#i'm gonna take four different summer classes.

[mhaccunoval]

apparently it'll be the summer of doing things

[hoshigray]

My Professor's Final Spring Praise ༄ K. Nanami

"Before my summer break officially started, I had to finish my last in-person exam with Professor Nanami. It was so tough, but I made it through! I was the last to leave, so I thanked the professor and shared some final words before heading to my dorm to finish packing up. However, how do a few gratitude and praise exchanges end up with me on his desk and him between my legs?"

A/n: Yessirrrrrr!! First work of my very first series!! I'm very nervous about this as this is the first time committing to writing consecutively for a specific theme, but I got faith in myself!! Also, it's Nanami and my birthday!!!ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ So as soon as this is posted, I'm signing off and enjoying my day with my hubby Kento~ (sike I'm not, just gonna hang with friends, lol). But anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this piece, and thank you so very much for 1k followers~~~!!! Not my best work, but it's a decent start for the series! >:D (will proofread l8r tmrw)

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: professor! Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content so minors DNI - taboo (consensual sex b/w a professor & undergrad) - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Nanami approaching early 30s) - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - semi-missionary position (reader lies on their back on a table while Nanami stands) - public sex/sex in a university classroom - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - pining if you squint - praise - pet names (baby, darling, love, sweet pea) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - kissing/makeout sessions.

Wc: 3.4k

Dear Diary...it's been a long while since I had to come to you as an outlet for my thoughts. But something happened today that caused my mind to go rampant, and I need to rely on you again...

Today is supposed to be the best day of the year. You just finished taking your last in-person exam, you were able to finish packing up all your stuff, and you're now ready to kiss this campus goodbye until the upcoming fall season.

You could not wait to start your summer plans. Not only will you work in the internship you've been hoping to get into since last semester, but you'll finally have ample time to hang with your best friends ever — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara!

The summer break has been the end goal for the four of you, and now that your finals are finally over, there's no stopping you from enjoying the season to the best you can!

However, as much as you say you're excited, it doesn't correlate to your actual feelings at this point in time. Something happened that altered your entire perception of what the future was supposed to be.

Something so out of the ordinary that you don't know how to properly feel or think about the situation.

Something so out of the ordinary that you turn to a diary to let your thoughts out, alone in your shared dorm room when all the other roommates have left earlier in the week.

Something so completely out of the ordinary that it sends chills down your spine just reminiscing the moment before sitting at this exact desk writing about what transpired earlier.

It all started when I went to my last in-person exam with Yuuji, where everyone else was waiting for the professor...

You and Yuuji had the same Biology class to take care of one of your science credits, and the exam was to take place on the last day of finals week. Although you've been told it's not supposed to be a difficult test — it's a bunch of multiple questions, short answers, and one essay — the exam period starts from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Three hours of endless testing was enough to put you, Yuuji, and all the other classmates in shambles, embracing guaranteed failures and having no idea how to study.

Luckily, a true saint descended from above to bless you and your peers with a professor who knows what he's doing and is patient enough to lead you to the right path. Your professor, Kento Nanami, was relatively young enough to connect with his fellow students but held a well-mannered and stern cadence that gained the respect and admiration of those around him. He was able to steer you guys into a secure approach to your studying: taking in questions, making study guides for quizzes and midterms, and highlighting significant areas from the textbook throughout the semester that will be shown on today's exam.

So through all the diligent preparation and practical labs you've attended, you feel way more confident with the material than at the start of the semester. Can't say the same for Yuuji, who's more nervous than you (with his three unexcused absences and constantly coming to you for help). But as long as y'all are suffering together, that's all that matters.

The only problem is that the exam is sectioned into three parts — sixty multiple-choice questions that are one point each, ten short answer questions that are also one point each, one mix-and-match portion, and the essay is ten whole points by itself (twenty if you can answer five bonus questions afterward). So, off the bat, everyone understands why three hours are given to complete the exam. But Professor Nanami said, "You all should be fine because it doesn't necessarily have to take you all three hours to complete. So if you finish early, you can get outta here." Say less.

So once you entered the usual classroom with Yuuji, you followed through and sat distant from each other at the same table. The professor came on time as always, instructing the class on where to get the exam on the class website, giving the password to unlock it, and wishing you luck.

The only sounds in the space were people clicking their keyboards, sighs, and groans, and people packing up to leave after submitting their exams before thanking their professor for a great semester. Soon the number of students would thin out, leaving just you and Yuuji still completing your exam.

Yuuji finished at the two-hour mark, releasing an extended sigh of relief before hurriedly stuffing his laptop in his backpack. He goes down to thank and bear hug the professor. And you giggle at the expression of Nanami's dismay because he would've sufficed with a simple handshake like the other students. But that's what makes Yuuji an anomaly to the mass, being exceptionally himself no matter where or who he's with. The salmon-haired boy walks up and wishes you luck, going to his dorm to pack the last of his things and promising to pick you up when you're done.

And then it was just you and him: the professor standing at the podium in front of the classroom, reading a book while you finish the last bonus questions before submitting it on the class site. You sigh heavily, and a massive wave of relief washes over you. You did it. You handled all your exams. You're finally free!

"Finished?" You look for where the voice comes from. The professor looks up from his book at your figure.

You place your laptop in your bag and stand up from your seat. It took you twenty more minutes just to finish compared to Yuuji. "Yup! It wasn't so bad like you said, but I had more trouble with the bonus questions than everything else." You stretch your arms and legs.

Nanami chuckles at your feedback. "I see. I did say the bonus questions would be more lab-based. Good thing those who couldn't make it to some of the labs got to see me so I could help them or assign them with the other students who missed."

"You mean like Yuuji?" You walk up to the podium to be in front of your professor. "Because the poor guy couldn't make it to some of the labs because of club activities."

"Yes, Itadori is one of those students." Nanami smiles at the mention of the salmon-haired other. "He's undoubtedly a hard-working student, asking questions and enjoying the lectures. But that's for when he is in the class."

You chuckle as the subtle shade at your friend. "He does try, though! All the times we've studied together since this exam shows that he wanted to put his whole heart into this class. Not to mention that you're secretly his favorite teacher~." You mention the last part hoping it sparks something in the professor, and you're glad to see that the older man releases a wee chortle at the tiny piece of information.

"Hmm, well, I appreciate his enthusiasm and that he was deeply interested in the class. However," your professor closes his book and walks to the side of the podium, erasing an imaginary barrier between the two of you. "You also play a huge part in his engagement. He's lucky to have a friend like you."

Your brows trench, but a smile creeps past your conscious. "What makes you say that?"

"You've been a particular student in my class. Not only are you an easy grader, but you capture the material so well that Itadori trusts you enough to help him when I'm not available to do so. Anytime you ask me a question, it's always outside the textbook or linked to something you looked into outside the lectures."

The smile on your face grows large, and you look away to shield it from his vision. "Thank you, Professor Nanami."

"I won't be surprised if I check the grades later and see that you got an excellent grade." He removes his glasses and places them on the podium with his book. "I'd also suggest you consider minoring in this field if you'd like. And did you sign up for that scholarship I mentioned to you around two weeks ago?"

"Yes, I filled it out last week."

"Good." He moves a hand to place on your shoulder, and the action takes you aback because it's the first time he's ever touched you. "I expect great things from you, Y/n. I'm sure whatever you want to do in this life, you'll do just fine."

You bashfully nod at his kind words. And you extend your hand up to him to signify a ready handshake. "Thank you, professor. And thank you so much for all your help this semester."

The hand that was on your shoulder grabs hold of your hand. But what happens next was far from what you expected.

Nanami lifts your hand with his and faintly sets his lips on the back of your knuckles.

And this is the provenance of what sets everything in motion.

What he did to your hand didn't just surprise you, but also surprised him. Nanami froze with your hand still in his, not daring to move as you have yet moved an inch.

Why did I do that? It's the biggest question that runs through his mind at this time. One moment he was praising you for being one of his best students, then he busses his lips onto your hand the next. But why?

Nanami knew he was done for. Unable to look into your eyes, he can only tighten his hold on your hand. This was so not part of his routine. Today was supposed to be like any other exam day. He only came here to see his students for one last time before the start of summer break. He only came here to see his final class and have them take the exam before heading home. So why?

Perhaps it was the feelings of spring blinding him like a child. Or maybe his emotions got the better of him. But today was the last day of the semester he'd see his favorite pupil — you. Until now, the professor has done a phenomenal job maintaining an appropriate relationship between teacher and student, keeping a respectable distance while tending to his scholars.

And yet, he still would catch himself sneaking a selfish glance at you following through with his lectures, his heart swooning when you use your lovely voice to ask a question, or going blind when you flash a smile that rivals the sun's beam.

It's never right to have favorites; however, you clearly were the one that caught his attention the most.

Yet, also, this type of relationship is not the best for Nanami or you. You are a student, and he is your teacher. This could damage the reputation of both of you. It's the least favorable outcome between the two of you...

...So why haven't you snatched your hand away from mine yet?

Your hands tighten back with his, and the man finally chooses to look at you.

You're eyes bore into him, looking at him as if he's the only thing meant to have your concentration. Your breathing descends to a slower pace, but the rhythm of your heart beats the more you look at the man before you. "Professor Nanami..." you said his name in a whisper, and God, did it feel so wrong to do such a thing. As if your mouth would be thrown into a pit of flames for even calling to him with an indescribable connotation. Your mind is now fueled with a deep emotion rooted within, rooted with a scary longing.

"Y/n..." It felt even more wrong to have your name hushed in his voice, so hot to the ears that they could melt any second. Even so, a part of you wishes he would repeat it in the same tone again. Expressing the exact feeling of wanting something, wanting you.

Observant brown eyes lock in with your eyes. Faces move forward with hesitance. Eyes close. Noses begin to brush their skins against each other. And pairs of lips seal an unfortunate yet desirable event that cannot be revoked.

It takes a few minutes for you two to melt into each other from the makeout session. It takes a few minutes to block the glass windows with portable whiteboards to block the view from the outside. And it takes a few minutes for you to be a disheveled mess with your back on a table with Nanami between your legs, fingering your throbbing vulva and licking your slick and sensitive clitoris.

"Hoooh...Mmmm, Professor Nanami, your tongue. I-It feels too good—Nnnmph!!"

Nanami flicks his tongue on your sensitive, the cause for you to cry out. "Y/n, I told you. It's just the two of us, so call me by my name."

No, you mustn't. That's taking things too far. But, "K-Kentooo," that name is too tempting to not have seeped through your moans. "Your tongue and fingersss, they're too much!"

His middle and forefinger pull and push inside your gushy walls, prompting more of your sweet cries to fill the blonde man's eardrums. "Is that so? Too much for you? Think you're gonna cum?"

You nod desperately with each question, your cunt clenching around his digits as if you were to snatch them off. But that would be impossible when he's playing with your pussy like a toy. Sweat starts to form on your forehead, your orgasm inching in closer and closer by the second.

And Nanami notices, resulting in him coming to your aid for release. His tongue goes back to lapping around clit, kissing and sucking on the bud while the tempo of his fingers increases.

Your climax hits you hard, having your body twitch and quiver as the inner walls of your slit contract around the digits scraping your velvety texture. You grab tufts of his blond hair, messing up its neat shape. But neither of you cares, too engulfed with each other to worry about the details. Tears form at the end of your eyes as you experience your high, and you try to steady your breathing when your professor withdrawals himself from you.

"Good job, sweet pea. Made a mess on my fingers." He praises you while undoing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing his well-defined torso for your eyes to see. But the real prize is when he unzips his pants and pulls down his briefs, his erect cock out in the open for you to marvel at.

But before you could look at it with all its glory, the tip of his dick presses up against your cunt, sliding it up and down to warm you up before entry. The feeling of his shaft grinding on your folds and clit is enough to have chills travel down your spine.

"Alright, love, I'm gonna go slow for you, okay?" His chocolate brown eyes examine your face to give him a response. You nibble on your lip and brace yourself after confirming your cooperation. "If you want me to stop, let me know. So, take some breaths for me."

And with that, the blonde pushes his cock into you with every exhale you take, the twinge of pain making it difficult to focus. Yet you still pull through because you want this so fucking much. There's no turning back now. And when the tip of his cock finally nestles inside your vagina, a choked shriek departs from your lips.

Slowly, Nanami pushes himself into you, every inch of his cock venturing further into your welcoming, throbbing chasm. He brushes up against your sweet spots causing you to jerk up. Nanami coaxes you through it. "It's okay, darling. You're taking me so well."

Tears come streaming down when the base of his cock kisses your folds, your union now solidified. The blonde gives you a moment to get acclimated with his girth inside before he gradually instructs a patient pace of the hips.

"Mmmm, Kento. 'S so good..." You mewl into the air, your face feeling hot and sweaty. The slow rhythm of his ruts is tantalizing, but it feels so good having his length scrape your insides. "Pleaseee, go fasteeer—"

"Want it faster? Nnmmm, damn, I'll go faster, baby." When the moment is right, his thrusts quicken the cadence, provoking more blissful whimpers to fill the silent room.

Your hands find purchase on his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to cage him close to you. And Nanami takes the notion as a signal for him to dial up the speed, thrusting so deep into your pussy with an erratic tempo. Pelvis smacking hard on your slit and tender clit that it has you seeing stars.

"Hmmm, Ahh—Ahhhh! Ohhhh, fucking shit!" The harsh ruts to your lower half keep your ground to the table beneath you, sweat sticking your clothes to your back. The sounds of skin slapping each other are on par with your pornographic noises, having you feel indecent and shameful. But it's too late now.

"Hmmph! Oh, fuck," husky groans exit from Nanami, the man putting his forehead on yours. "You feel so good and tight around me, love. So close to—Ahhhh!! Shit, so close to cumming.."

You swallow the spit that secretes your mouth. "Haaaah, Kentoooo—" your eyes are shut to wholly focus on the commotion beneath you. Your sexes smacking each other, forcing you to clench around him with every thrust of the hips. "I'm about to—Nnnaaahh!! Oh, Jesus, I'm gonna cummm!"

He kisses your forehead. "You want to cum, sweet pea?"

"Yesssss, please, please, pleaseee!!" Begging for your release is all you can do as your mind turns into mush, the familiar sensation crawling back to haunt you.

He hushes your cries with his lips on yours, the final kiss filled with scorching passion while Nanami pistons a few thrusts plunging to your vulva.

Your orgasm washes over you again, and you moan blissfully into the blonde's mouth. Your gushy walls flutter around his member for the last time, coating it with your essence. And Nanami had to be quick not to sink too deep into the feeling, or else he'd spill his release into you. He removed himself from your lips and body, ejaculating his load onto your bare stomach, and you gasped at the contact of his fluids spilling on your exposed skin.

You look up to survey the man before you, and you're met with an image you never thought you'd see. Blonde hair that was once slicked neatly now had messy strands that framed his face beautifully. Sweat covered his sculpted physique, and hooded brown eyes examined your body under him.

Letting the silence calm the both of you down from your aftershocks, Nanami glances at your face and smiles. He brings a hand to cup your cheek, brushing off tears that painted your face.

"Glad to have you this semester. Have a good summer, darling."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

BAM! BAM!! BAM!!!

An abrupt sound has you stop writing on the entry, bringing you back to the present time.

It sounded like it came from the front door, so you stuff your diary into your bag and exit the room to find out who's causing all the ruckus. When you open the door, the first thing that enters your line of vision is pink hair.

Your friend, Yuuji Itadori.

"Yo!" He greets you. "Ready to go? I called up your phone like four times."

"Oh, you did? Sorry, I must've forgotten to put it back on vibrate after the exam." You move out of the way for Yuuji to enter your dorm, closing the door behind him. "My stuff is in my room. I got two suitcases, a duffel bag, and my backpack."

"Alright then, let's hurry and get out of here! Think we can take the freeway since it's late at night, and traffic should be gone by now."

Yuuji grabs your two suitcases and heads outside to put them inside the trunk of his car. You walk around to check and see if anything is missing or misplaced before heading to your room and grabbing the other bags.

Yet before you leave the space entirely, you grab your diary again and write your final thoughts.

...I don't know what possessed me to let what happened happen. But, at the same time, I don't hate it for happening? I don't know...it was probably the feelings of spring taking over me or the relief that I finished all my exams.

But one thing is for sure; if I wasn't the last person to leave that classroom, none of that would've happened. I wouldn't have experienced that new side of Professor Nanami.

And as long as this keeps between me and him, then I'm kinda glad that it happened.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

just steve harrington being so selfless and not taking time for himself melting into a puddle if the reader or you or y/n (idk which one to put 💀) just asked him if he was okay a lot (I do that 24/7, this is purely self indulgent) and the many times he said yeah and the one time he said no :(

i was originally gonna do a full fic style blurb on this but words have been very hard for me lately so i'm just gonna do a text post about this! hope you don't mind 🫶🏻

warnings: reader is sorta implied to be fem!reader, allusions to steve being treated not so well by his parents as a kid, part of this does mention some upside down violence, tiny mention of food, no use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

send me steve thoughts | ask box

I imagine the first time it happens is probably in gym class when you're younger.

You accidentally hit him right in his pretty lil face with a dodgeball ☹️

And Steve being Steve insists he's okay because "I get hit all the time in basketball and football. I've broken bones and nearly busted my teeth out. A lil dodgeball never hurt anyone."

But you can tell he's hurt.

Whether it's him that's hurt or his bruised ego, you can't really tell.

But some part of him was clearly hurt.

more under the cut!

The second time it happens is when you get paired together for a study group during senior year.

Steve struggles with a lot of subjects, but math is probably his worst.

And it's not like he doesn't want to get better, his parents just never sat down at the table and helped him with anything growing up, and when his nannies told his dad about his report cards, it didn't end very well ☹️

But math is the one he's always had the hardest time with.

So when the two of you get paired to study for the calculus final, you can almost immediately tell he's struggling to understand the questions on the example sheet.

At one point, he just kinda places his head in his hands and groans into his palms.

And you're just kinda like, "Hey, you okay?"

And again, Steve is never one to admit defeat.

"I'll be fine. Can you just help me with question four?"

Surprisingly though, after just a few nights of studying together, you become sort of reluctant allies.

He surprisingly excelled in human biology, which you did not. So, the two of you helped each other where you could.

And then it happened a third time, during the summer after you'd graduated.

Steve had had a rather unsuccessful time trying to flirt with the ladies that often came into Scoops Ahoy.

This day had been no different.

He'd really tried his hardest to get the beautiful ginger in front of you to go with him to the movies on Friday.

But she and her friends just moved along, double-scoop ice cream cones in hand, back to their shopping.

"You good?" you asked, nearly on the verge of laughing, as you stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he answered sarcastically. "Just a little bruise to my ego. That was definitely the first time any lady has turned down this beautiful face."

Part of you, though, was hurting. Hurting that, even though you were right in front of him, he'd never bothered to look at you that way.

The fourth time it happened, you really started to question everything you thought you knew about Steve.

Somehow, despite being back in town for a total of two days, you'd gotten roped into something to do with some evil dude named Vecna.

And for once, after everything you'd learned since arriving back in Hawkins for spring break, Steve was the one asking if you were okay.

Also for once, one of you was answering the question truthfully.

However, in the week that followed after, even in the midst of alternate dimensions and weird mutations of bats, you'd learned that Steve might have been causing his previous lady problems on purpose.

And when you saw the painful expression he sported as Nancy Wheeler was reunited with her boyfriend, your own heart shattered all over again.

Still, if there was one thing you were, it was a good friend to Steve.

So, you pulled him aside and asked those three little words.

Steve simply ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a slow nod.

But you could tell he was nearly at the point of breaking.

And the time when he finally answered truthfully, he really did break.

You'd drove with him to the hospital to check up on Max Mayfield, who somehow he'd became friends with despite the age difference.

The room was dead silent, other than the annoying buzzing coming from the lights.

You finally gave him a good once-over as he sat at Max's bedside—his messy hair, his pale face with newly acquired purple spots under his eyes, a small cut under his lip.

And for the first time since you'd known Steve, you watched as tears formed in his eyes.

You were quick to rush over to the other side of the bed, your hand splaying across his back and rubbing soft, small circles against his frame.

"Steve, I know this is a silly question to ask, because we both know the real answer, but seriously, are you okay?"

He knew he couldn't hide. Not any longer. So, he simply let the walls come down, croaking out a small, "No," through his flood of tears.

After crying into your shoulder and allowing himself to finally let go of everything he'd been holding in for all those years, he just simply held you.

Finally, after explaining everything—from the reason why he never told you about the Upside Down, to why he'd used Nancy and all those girls as a distraction from the person he really wanted—he just grabbed your face and kissed you. A sweet and tender kiss, not a desperate or lustful kiss, but a longing one—one he'd waited much too long to give you.

And somehow, even in the midst of all the bad stuff, even in the midst of Steve finally breaking, the two of you could finally find a way to maybe, just maybe, be okay for once. ❤️‍🩹

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .3

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: hotdogs in central park

word count: 3441

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

October was always an exciting period in New York. The brownstones were decorated top to bottom in thick spiderwebs, glowing skeletons and some of the most incredibly carved jack-o-lanterns one could find. The air had picked up a distinctive chill and many people's denim jackets and summer shorts had been traded for thicker-lined coats and scarves.

And of course with the turning of the seasons came midterms, written essays and memorized monologues that had to hit emotion, rhythm, believability, and of course, a time limit. While Tom had spent his evenings memorizing his lines, Noelle was busy practicing her combinations. She wouldn't come home until seven or eight at night as opposed to her usual four-thirty. Dragging herself through the hallway, bleary-eyed and exhausted, she could discern the sound of preaching through the paper-thin walls. Tom's voice stood out distinctly, booming and self-assured, a stark contrast to his usual timid and bashful demeanour.

Because midterms never held back, Tom was curious when one of his professors instructed them to come in loose-fitting, easy-to-move-in clothing. Their next lesson was on movement, and they were to have the honour of having some training from the second year ballerinas.

Tom picked out a simple t-shirt and some baggy, grey joggers, he felt more like he was on his way to the gym than he was school. He found Sunny was already up, munching on a bowl of frosted flakes while he watched some YouTube videos on his phone. He looked up curiously when Tom walked in, noting his baggy attire.

Tom threw his hands out at his sides, giving a listless shrug, "How do I look?" he asked.

Sunny shrugged back, "Like you should be asking for pennies on the street corner," he replied.

Tom glowered at him, "Are you serious?"

"Well, you don't look professional!" Sunny replied honestly, "Unless that's the assignment, today?"

He shook his head, "We're learning about movement with the ballerinas,"

Sunny stifled a laugh, "You're gonna learn ballet dance?"

"Not ballet, just movement. Posture and stuff,"

Sunny shook his head, "Well, you can't go like that," he scoffed.

"Why not?" Tom asked, glancing down at his outfit, "They just said loose and easy to move in,"

His roommate stood from the table and started for the hall, "There's a difference between easy to move in and wearing your pyjamas to school," and he disappeared into his room, "How tall are you?" he called suddenly.

"Six feet. Six one, maybe?" Tom shrugged back.

Not a moment later Sunny returned with a pair of black training pants. He unfolded them before his eyes, the crisp white Adidas logo on the pant immediately catching Tom's attention before he focused in on the rest of the look.

"Here, I wear these for football. Freshly washed," he tossed them to Tom, and he barely caught them at his chest.

"Are you sure?" he gawked back.

"Sure I'm sure. You wanna' make a good impression for the ballerinas, right?" he patted Tom's shoulder before taking his seat again at the table.

Tom's brows furrowed, "I'm not -- I'm not gonna' be scouting for a girlfriend, if that's what you mean," he said.

"I know, but still -- give them a reason to remember you... that's not those trousers, anyway," he replied simply.

"What's wrong with these?" Tom cried, somewhat defiantly.

"You look like a chav who just finished up at his nine-to-five and's about to settle in for a twelve hour GTA marathon," Sunny explained, "Trust me, mate,"

Tom changed into the training pants nonetheless, and he had to admit they made him look way less baggy than before. With that, he grabbed his notes and bag, his jacket, and was out the door in a split.

"Come in! Come in, everyone! Come have a seat!" the professor for the ballet's morning class, an older man with a moderate Eastern European accent, bellowed out to the acting students as they filed into the studio space. It was a gorgeous, large room with wall-to-wall mirrors, all accept for the window space that overlooked the bustling Manhattan streets below.

Jordan, a twenty-year-old first year acting student, had been bellyaching all morning to Tom about how ridiculous this all seemed. He was nice enough, but he had a proclivity for complaining.

"This is so dumb," he grumbled, falling into line with the others, "They're gonna laugh at us,"

Tom glowered at him, "They're not gonna laugh. We're just here to learn," he whispered back.

"Learn to do what, Swan Lake?" he scoffed.

"Would you just relax, please?" Tom grumbled back.

"We could be doing our monologues, right now," Jordan pointed out.

Tom simply shook his head and remained silent, sitting cross-legged against the mirror as the others filed in. The ballerinas were already here, clumped in their groups and sneaking glances at the actors. A handful of girls and guys, statuesque, lithe, adorned in shiny black leotards, tights, and some of them had leg warmers on. Among them was Noelle, sitting in the corner with Bianca and another dancer while she laced up her pointe shoes.

"Oh look, your ramen buddy's here," Bianca muttered. Noelle caught Tom's eyes when she glanced up, that dazzling, gentle smile pulling at her lips and she gave him a wave. Tom smiled and waved back subtly.

Their friend, Iseul, scanned the faces, "Which one?" she asked.

"The one who looks like he's shitting his pants,"

"They all look that way,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Would you guys keep it down?" she muttered.

Jordan spotted the small interaction from the corner of his eye, "You two friends?" he asked.

"She's my neighbour," Tom replied simply.

"You lucky bastard,"

Noelle quickly got to her feet as her instructor, Stanis, began to debrief the actors, "You originally came here to learn about acting. How to show character, evoke emotions, but a major part of theatre is how you use your body to show, not tell. Just like in a good book, you become much better story tellers when your body reflects pain, joy, agony," the man paced slowly across the studio, his hands flourishing with every exaggerated word. The dancers stood at the ballet bar behind him, casually leaning, watching, handful of eyes were passing over the doe-eyed first years some with boredom, some with intrigue.

Jordan leaned over to Tom, whispering, "Is he a ballet instructor or a high school teacher?" he was referring to Stanis' moppy jeans, beaten sneakers and band shirt. Tom hushed him.

"Of course it's impossible to exhibit any of these emotions if you're stiff," he straightened his posture but stood as still as a statue, "Or if you look bored," he slouched outwardly, posing like a delinquent teenager outside a convenience shop, "Or you look like a geek --" he hunched his back and pulled his shoulders in, making his limbs stuff.

A couple students tittered behind him.

"Now, obviously I am a ballet teacher, I am not a theatre teacher. But some of the key principles of dance are posture awareness, balance, coordination, spatial awareness, and physically expressing your emotion. These are principles utilized in ballet, and these are principles you will need if you hope to -- quote-on-quote -- break out in the industry," a hand went up from the end of the actors' group, "You there! Kip Dynamite!" Stanis called on him.

The attention turned to 'Kip', a lanky boy with thin hair and glasses, "I just wanted to ask -- are we expected to learn actual dances? Not many of us have any experience," his squeaking voice traversed the room.

Stanis chuckled, "Don't you worry, I don't expect you to performing grand jetes. You will however be learning these principles over the course of your studies," he explained, "Today we will start with the basics. Everyone please take up a position at the bar. Don't be shy!"

The actors took up spots along the bars against the mirrors. Jordan however raised his hand. Stanis nodded to him, "Ichabod Crane! You have a question?"

Jordan's face twisted momentarily, not quite sure how to respond to the nickname as he spoke up, "I don't mean any disrespect -- but why are they here?" he pointed to the ballet students.

Stanis shrugged simply, "To laugh at you, of course," he replied. Whatever little confidence Tom was struggling to hold on to, figuring there was no way in hell he was being serious. Luckily, Stanis began to chuckle, "No, no. They will be helping you. Directing your posture, your form, and I gave them permission to kick you if you're doing it wrong," he smirked.

"He's joking!" one of the dancers called, sensing the fear within some of the actors.

Stanis ignored her comment, instead he turned to his students, skimming them one by one until he settled on, "Bianca! Come be our przykład!"

The acting students glanced between each other, though Bianca didn't bat an eye as she stepped forward. Her expression was different from when Tom first met her, she had a little more get up in her step, more sparkle in her eye. That being said, her smile was a little too stiff.

"Assume first position," he directed, and Bianca did just that; shoulders back and head poised high, "Now, in this position our heels are touching and knees are squeezed together. Your bottom is also squeezed. First position improves awareness and control in your body, imbues confidence; you essentially feel like you have a string pulling you up. For some of you I imagine this may be the first time you've ever held a proper posture like this,"

He then turned to the actors, "Now, keep your right hand on the bar and assume first," and they did as they were told. Some had more poise than the others, some were loose in their arms or hunched in their shoulders, "My little soldier ants will be coming around to silently judge -- I mean help you,"

The ballerinas came around, some shyer at the approach then others, while Stanis continued to have Bianca demonstrate positions and stretches.

"When we warm up on the bar, we bend our knees into a demi plie, really focus on that plumb line being brought down from your crotch and between your heels, making sure your butt's not sticking out like a chicken," he too paced around the room, inspecting his new pupils one by one, "Keep your shoulders stacked over your hips. I'm talking to you, Kip!"

Tom followed along as best he could, he wasn't the worst but he certainly wasn't the best. He kept his eyes focused ahead, following along to Bianca's changing positions, but now and again his vision wandered to the rest of his classmates.

Jordan was two students ahead of him, and he was as stiff as stiff could be. When the female ballerinas walked by especially. It was then Tom realized why he was so opposed to this in the first place: he was trying to look cool in front of them.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Noelle making her rounds. He tried to keep his form as best as he could, realizing that he was suddenly no better than Jordan in the moment. Noelle approached him with curiosity in her eyes, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected.

"Hey,"

"Hi," she admired his dedication to try, but she could tell from his tight grin, his stiff eyes that he was a little uncomfortable, "You doing okay?"

"I'm great," he nodded, "Your instructor seems like fun,"

Noelle simpered, "He's got a zany sense of humour. You get used to it after a while," she said, "You ever do dance before?"

Tom shook his head, "Not as much as I should've," he replied with a sheepish grin, "How bad is it?"

Noelle stood back and looked him over, all in all she thought he wasn't doing too terribly, "Push your chest out," she told him, "And bring your toes in a little more. You'll have better balance when you bend down,"

He did as she told him and she nodded in approval, "Way better. You won't feel as much strain in your arches now,"

"Thanks," he smiled at her.

"No problem. You got any questions?" she asked.

Tom mulled it over, the exercises were the last thing on his mind though. He glanced down at her pointe shoes, the satin a pearly pink and the heels peeking out from under her long leg warmers.

"I have one,"

"Shoot,"

"When you stand in your shoes, are you fully on your toes?" he asked, chuckling, "Sorry -- is that weird?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, stepping before him and placing a hand on the bar, "My feet are fully vertical, no pressing," she pushed herself up on her toes, her long legs perfectly straight and with hardly any shake. It was such a simple move and she made herself look so elegant at the same time. They were just about at eye level.

Tom cocked a brow, "Doesn't that hurt, though?" he asked.

"No. If you stand a long time then they cramp a little but... ya know," Noelle stepped back and forth to make her point, " -- And I gain a couple inches,"

Tom gave a little smirk back, pushing up on his toes and towering over her again. Noelle scoffed and gently smacked his arm as she dropped back on her heels, "Dickhead," to which he only laughed like a rascally child. Her skin tingled at the sound, she picked off how his eyes crinkled and his chest shuddered.

"Noelle!" Stanis suddenly called for her, garnering their and everyone's attention, "Are we giving a pointe lesson today?" he asked, a snide smirk playing at his lips.

Noelle smiled politely, giving a simple shake of the head, "Just previewing what's to come," she replied. Tom simpered beside her.

Another student piped up, "Wait -- are we gonna have to wear those shoes?"

"No, no. It was just a joke," Stanis assured him, "But if anyone slouches or slacks off today, they're going to be laced up and have to work on a solo for next class!" that statement seemed to light a little more fire under Jordan.

Tom's legs burned a little more than what he was expecting, his walk was a little stiffer and his face contorted when he had to go up some stairs. Noelle walked beside him, virtually unscathed by the warm ups and practices from the morning class. She watching him move with a little concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she held the door open for him as they exited the campus, eager to get some lunch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, "Haven't done that much bending since... well I don't know," he shrugged listlessly.

"The more you practice the better you'll feel. Like with any workout," she assured him, "What do you want for lunch?"

Some good food was sure to cheer him up, and he hadn't really had a sustaining breakfast either. He wondered it momentarily, glancing around at the plethora of signs for cafes, sandwich shops, and hot dogs stands. In fact there was one right on the corner, vending just a block away from the gates of Central Park.

"Would I be a terrible person for suggesting a hot dog?" he asked.

Noelle's eyes went wide, "Have you not tried an nyc hot dog yet?" he shook his head with a knowing grin, "Well, c'mon then!"

Fifteen minutes later they'd found a little bench to park themselves up, bags disregarded on the cold cement beneath them as they unwrapped their foil-lined lunches. Tom opted to get the typical New York style dog with mustard and onions, while Noelle just stuck with relish on hers.

"Now -- you gotta promise not to tell my dance instructor, or my classmates, or even Bianca. Because I will be strung up for eating this," she looked at him with a point of pure earnest, leading Tom to panic for a moment.

"Wait -- if this is gonna ruin your regimen or anything --" he stumbled over his words, but Noelle began to laugh.

"I'm kidding! Relax," she patted his shoulder and he settled, "Besides, what is the point to life if you deprive yourself of all the good things it has to offer? Like cat-meat hot dogs," she spoke just as Tom was about to take a bite of his, pausing momentarily and side-eyeing her hard. She was trying to stop herself from laughing.

"Eat your fucking hot dog," he grumbled before chowing down. The meat was perfectly salted and the mustard tangy, the sweetness of the onions and bun cut the edge off of the pure sodium bite.

"Sorry," she giggled, taking a bite of her own. This was the first time she'd ever heard him swear and she wasn't mad about it.

Tom simpered back, "Have you ever eaten anything really weird? Like totally weird? No one would ever think it should exist?" he asked.

Noelle mulled it over, her pink lips pursed and her brows furrowed, "Balsamic vinegar on vanilla ice cream," she decided.

Tom gawked at her, "No!"

"Yeah," she nodded bashfully.

"On purpose?"

"... Kinda," she shrugged, "There's this fancy shmancy restaurant in Soho that has it with strawberries for a ridiculous price, and Bianca and I thought -- what's the big deal?"

"... And what was the verdict?" he asked curiously.

"It's actually really good," she admitted with another giggle.

Tom refrained from making a face, "But it's dairy and vinegar! Wouldn't it curdle together?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's kinda' good," she replied.

"So, we've gone from 'really good' to 'kinda' good'. I'm not convinced," he smirked.

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Okay smart-ass, next time you come over I'll make it for you," she decided.

"I don't eat desserts,"

"Since when?"

"Since forty-five seconds ago,"

"Oh, please," she shook her head, "Alright, what about you: weirdest thing you ever ate?" his lips curled up, menacing and eager to spill what she only could perceive as some sort of harrowing secret, "What?"

"You're not ready," he told her.

"No, no, I'm ready," she assured him, "What was it?"

Tom didn't even have to think about it, "My mum used to make mashed potato sandwiches," he admitted.

She cocked a brow, "Mashed potato sandwiches? Like -- wait, really?" she set her hotdog in her lap and rested her chin in her palm, intrigued to learn more.

"Yeah, she's psychopathic," he nodded, trying not to laugh himself, "Mashed potatoes -- usually from a packet -- scooped between two slices of bread and some butter. And when she was feeling a little fancy, she'd put mayo on it,"

"Nooo, shut up!" Noelle gaped, "Was it good?"

"It was bread and mashed potatoes, of course it was good!" he laughed, "It was her comfort food, believe it or not,"

"That sounds very comforting," she giggled with disbelief, "Oh, bless her heart! Okay -- if I go to England, I'll visit you, I'll meet your mom, and I'll try a mashed potato sandwich,"

"You got a deal, then," he raised his hand and they shook on it, "You can bring her balsamic vinegar and ice cream and have her throw you out of the house,"

"And why would I want to disrespect your mom in her own home?" she teased back.

"Just forewarning you," he smirked back. She liked that he was opening up to her a bit more, his louder side was coming through and his quirky personality was beginning to shine through.

"How gentlemanly of you," she simpered.

Tom knocked her shoulder with his, growing increasingly at ease in her company with each passing moment. He wasn't an idiot, he could recognize that his feelings for her were starting to spark into a small crush. He found himself hanging off every word she spoke, every time she moved her hair behind her ear or she always found something new or intriguing to talk about. His stomach was flipping at every enthusiastic giggle and reaction he got out of her. It was as if her enthusiasm had a magnetic pull, leaving him captivated by her every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up and her laughter bubbled forth filled him with an intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness. His heart raced in sync with her infectious energy, and with each positive response he evoked from her, a cascade of warmth flooded through him, leaving an indelible imprint of happiness amidst the fluttering sensations in his stomach.

[loveysloveclub]

THE MAN! UMICH AU chapter i. new opportunities arise

in which, molly gets the opportunity of a lifetime.

molly maxwell had never been the type to have any sort of luck on her side.

she passed all her classes, and therefore graduated high school, because she worked hard. she made an all boys hockey team by training everyday and being good at what she does. and her female rugby team won their finals because again, she was good at the sports she played. everything she had in her life, she had because she worked for it.

so, when a video of molly smacking a grown male hockey player into the boards at one of her home games last year vent semi viral on some nhl fanpage, she was feeling pretty lucky. the hit had gotten her sent off for the rest of the game, but she didn't quite care. playing in a male dominated sport on a male dominated team had its ups and downs, and the downs were something molly had become accustomed to. she was treated differently as she was seen as an easy target, and the man in the video had made the mistake of thinking she wouldn't retaliate when he shoved her a little too hard or swiped her feet out from underneath her. molly had no issue breaking a few rules for a few men to get what they deserved.

her luck streak continued when she received an email by someone by the name of brandon naurato, who happened to be the head coach of the mens umich hockey team. molly, who was taking the bus home from practice at the time, almost fell out of her seat when she read the email, asking her to come play for his team.

all events lead up to this exact moment, with molly laying on the floor of her bedroom as clothes surrounded her. her three best friends rummaged through her closet, all discussing how jealous they were that she was going to go to frat parties and meet cute american guys.

mika holland was the newest addition to the group, molly having met her when she was dating one of her teammates. the relationship didn't last long, but molly got a new friend out of it. she was the shortest out of the four, but had the loudest personality. you could hear the girl making inappropriate jokes and laughing at her own jokes from a mile away.

summer smith and molly had once hated each other. constantly at each others necks throughout the first few years on high school. but when they were forced to pair up for an english project in the tenth grade, they quickly found out how similar they were and both abandoned any distasteful feelings the two shared. summer was down for anything, much like molly.

finally, scarlett hamilton, molly's best friend since the fifth grade. the two were always together, where one went the other followed. she would be molly's hardest goodbye, albeit her own mother. the two were never not stirring up some sort of plan to get the rest of the group into trouble. life would become significantly more boring once molly moved away, leaving both troublesome girls to their own devices.

"molly, do you think any of your teammates are gonna be hot?" summer asked as she continued to go through molly's entire closet, throwing things into either the 'yes' or the 'no' pile. "oh my god, you have to get with one. that is the story of the fucking century!" mika exclaimed, following her statement with a loud laugh.

"i'm not getting with one of my teammates, you freak." molly shot back, screwing her face up in distaste. "what a waste of an opportunity." mika retorted, flopping onto molly's bed.

scarlett hummed in agreement before flipping her phone screen around to show the rest of the girls whose instagram she was stalking. it was no surprise that she was stalking the univeristy of michigan's hockey team page. "this one's cute." scarlett zoomed in on one of the players. "i think that's my new captain." molly grimaced before returning to packing her belongings.

the four girls quickly fell into a vast conversation, topics ranging from who summer saw at her grocery store job to whatever scarlett's father had done to piss her off this morning, and finishing when mika got too in depth about her sex life.

and as summer finished packing molly's bag, signalling the end of their last hangout for a while, molly couldn't help but tear up about how much she was going to miss her friends. her only friends. the only people who weren't blood related to ever love her unconditionally.

moving across the world to play hockey was already proving to be the most difficult thing molly had ever done.

and she hadn't even met the team yet.

next chapter

[ink-and-hedera]

Acquaintance

"Brewed in academia, we sip knowledge, each cup filled with life's realities. In the shadow of ancient trees and hills, we find comfort, learning to endure our shared existence. Like an over-roasted coffee, life blends bitterness with inexplicable charm."

My go-to is black coffee - drip when I'm in a rush, or filter when my favorite barista is working at the coffee shop near the dormitory. The other barista over-roasts the coffee beans and brews it without passion. I'd rather skip coffee altogether than face that disappointment in a small white cup.

You can always tell when a person loves what they do.

I'd love to say that I wake up to the first rays of the sun sneaking into our room through the solitary window, but the truth is we live in the shadow of a hill and old trees. It's unusual, given that we're in the center of Kyiv, but neither my roommates nor I complain. In the summer, the shade provides welcome coolness.

Our room, a cramped 10 square meters, houses four of us. There's no such thing as privacy here. It's not a life, but a fairy tale. But you get used to it. The options are limited: a) find a third job, neglect studies, and rent an apartment; b) sell a kidney; c) endure.

Since I don't have a spare kidney, and a day only has 24 hours - the first two options are out. As for the third - I'm a born endurer.

Back to the room and its inhabitants. To protect privacy, I've changed the names, ages, appearances, and some biographical details. Girls, if you're reading this, know that I love you. Probably.

We're four girls of different ages, tastes, and views. Essentially, we're strangers forced by circumstances to share a roof. In such a situation, you must find common ground. Living together requires rules and responsibility sharing, and quarrels over household matters are inevitable. Sometimes, someone might eat your dinner, the one you've fantasized about all day during tedious lectures. Sometimes, you spend two hours deciding who should pay for the internet and who should take out the trash.

It's like a family.

“Alaska, are you busy?”

A friend messages me while I'm sitting in class, rubbing my forehead. My students are in an anti-bullying lecture, so I'm doing my own thing. Teaching in college at 22 while studying for a master's? It’s a cruel joke. Don't get me wrong, I love my students. But the administration, colleagues, standards from the ministry, and bureaucracy that has me rewriting the curriculum for the sixth time...

I sigh heavily and return to the message.

“Yes,” I answer, though I'm not really bothered. I have at least 20 free minutes.

“Come outside.”

Ugh.

“Why did you even ask then?” I text back, irritated.

“Just come, grumpy.”

I sigh again, shut off my work laptop, and leave everything in the office. I put on a black trench coat with a packet of two remaining cigarettes, a lighter, and keys in the pocket.

"I hope you didn't call me just because you're bored. I have zero desire to climb back to the 4th floor," I say as I exit the building. The cold autumn wind hits me as I descend the stone stairs of the old building.

Oliver is sitting on a bench next to an abstract statue. He waves as I approach. We study Computer Science together at the university, though we don't fit the programmer stereotype.

Oliver, half a head taller than me, has red hair and freckles covering his nose and cheeks. He might seem cute to some, but his snarky sarcasm ruins that image.

"And I missed you too, grumpy. Let's grab a coffee," he says as I stare at him in disbelief. "You're a jerk. Couldn't you just come to me? I'm gonna die climbing back to the classroom."

"I care about your health. Maybe you'll finally quit smoking."

"Shut up," I snap, though I still follow him through the green gates marking the college territory. "So, what brings you here?"

"Had some business around, decided to stop by, check on our grumpy," Oliver says, smirking.

"And who told you I'm at work, and not in the dormitory or elsewhere?"

"Mary. She's worried because you've been acting strange lately," he says as we reach a coffee shop.

The coffee shop is spacious and not crowded - it's the middle of a workday. The interior is green and white, and I momentarily drift away from the conversation, observing every detail of the décor.

The spacious café is cozy and calm, as if immersed in a peaceful oasis in the middle of the city, where time meditates to the rhythm of coffee drops. Modernity intertwines with elegance in every detail. The walls, made of fresh white brick and adorned with green accents, seem to reflect the trends of nature that seep into the modern urban landscape.

Filling the space, the soft light shimmers from stylish pendant lamps with glass shades, creating an atmosphere of tenderness and tranquility. Tables, made of glass panels and metal legs, embody the spirit of innovation and refinement. Interwoven green and white accents add whimsy and refresh the space, creating a sense of lightness and harmony.

Meanwhile, the café does not lose its functionality. Comfortable chairs with soft cushions invite you to relax and enjoy the aromatic drinks brewed in copper coffee makers on the kitchen windowsill. The taste notes of coffee, complemented by the delicate aromas of freshly baked pastries, awaken all your senses, prompting instant relaxation and rest.

Thanks to its refined design and sophisticated approach to decor, the café in green and white color becomes not just a place where you can enjoy the taste of coffee, but also a true masterpiece of modern urban life, inviting you to discover new horizons of taste and aesthetics.

“Are you even listening to me?” Oliver asks, and I just stare at him, momentarily forgetting that I'm not alone here. “I asked what coffee you'll have.”

“Yes, sorry. Americano,” I finally respond. He smiles again and turns back to the barista, while I decide where we should sit.

My gaze lands on a table by the window, and I head there to claim it.

After a few minutes, Oliver joins me, holding two sandwiches. I look at him with a silent question in my eyes.

“You clearly haven't eaten anything,” he says as if he knows me like the back of his hand.

Indeed, I haven't eaten because I overslept three damn alarms and ran to work as if I had been scalded.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully and unfold the bag. The smell of food makes my stomach somersault, and just from that, I let out a pleased “mmm…”

“God, don't rush. When was the last time you ate properly? You're losing your mind with your work. Mary said you were acting strange, but I think I see that the reason for it is your workaholism,” Oliver says, taking a sip of his cappuccino, which the barista has just brought.

“Just... a lot of work,” I say, just having chewed my long-awaited food. “Mary worries in vain.”

“I think she is doing the right thing worrying. I, of course, call you a workaholic, but that doesn't mean you should actually become one, for God's sake,” he says, looking straight at me and exhales with disappointment. “Anyway, we'll talk about this later. Anyway, I came with a proposition.”

I stop eating and look at him in surprise.

“I won't marry you,” I say, with a note of sarcasm, joking.

“Hey! Actually, I'm a great catch,” he adds, laughing openly. “But no, you're wrong. Not that proposition. I know a guy who really wants to open a private educational institution. Somewhere in the summer. The building is great, and so are the ideas and programs. They promise a room, food, and decent salary..." he says, and I look at him with irritation.

“Oliver, you must be joking? I dream of escaping this teaching pit, and you're offering me to dive deeper into it... sorry, frankly, this shit? You know how I'm counting down the days until the end of the contract,” I add, exhaling.

“Alaska, wait and don't get heated. I know, I know, you're planning to go into the gaming industry. And yes, I know how much you like teaching. But this is a really cool opportunity. At least temporarily, until you finish your master's degree. You've been needing to move out of the dorm for a long time, get away from all the problems and start... living. Come on, where else will you find a job with such conditions? And there's a young team there. Lots of opportunities. You'll be able to balance everything appropriately and finally take care of your health.” Oliver says with such determination, trying to convince me. “You don't have to answer right now. Just think about it. It's a good start... Considering... events. Don't refuse right away.”

I take a sip of my Americano.

Damn.

The beans are over-roasted again.

[gunsli-01]

I was tagged at @qrevo in this tag game. Thanks for the tag! Anyone else who wants to do it can. I am gonna tag a few people to pay it forward but no one has to do it. @apatchworkstar, @peccadrome, @givemeanaccountalready, @genderqueer-miharu, @doctorbunny, @siverfanweedo.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yeah my middle name is my grandma's first name and the first letter of my first name refers back to my father. It's the same with his last three kids.

2. When was the last time you cried?

This week and I will cry again. It's allergy season and on top of that I have spring seasonal affective disorder. So, that's here until like summer.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope and right now I don't have any plans to.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I've never played a sport. I was told that I was in ballet when I was way younger. Because my mom signed me and my sister up for it but I don't really remember it. if we're speaking casually I played all the ones you'd find in a regular american high school gym class. Basketball, dodgeball, jumprope etc.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes, but it's very extragerated instead of catty which people say takes the bite away from it. I tend to be sarcastic for fun unless really ticked off.

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

Their facial features be it their hair eyes or something else.

7. Eye color?

Brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm a fan of scary movies mostly psychological horror or horror comedies.

9. Any talents?

Writing. Though people also say I'm a good listener and give good advice to the point I've been getting prompted into going back to college for psychology. The thing my family did not want me to do when I did want to do it~

10. Where were you born?

The US state of Michigan. Been here my whole life. It's pretty decent and the people tend to be personable and interesting in various ways. However, it can be very stereotypically American out here. My sister came into town with her bf who'd never been to the midwest and he was stunned at how talkative the everyday person is here. It was funny to hear that sort of culture shock actually exists. Plus when I visited London it wasn't much different in atmosphere. So, I was pretty comfortable. The people did keep to themselves more though.

11. Hobbies?

I'm slowly getting back into enjoying writing original stuff. I've been doing it since I was ten. My first longest hobby is music appreciation if that counts which i've been doing since earlier than that. I tend to like listening to all sorts of music there's this good graphic novel on it I saw at the library a while back too.

Oh and i like video games too. I tend to play roguelikes and rhythm games a lot.

12. Any pets?

I have two cats. Angel who is going on fourteen and Luco who I adopted last year and is going on two.

13. Height?

I'm around five feet and four inches. Though I haven't gotten it measssure in a while.

14. Favorite school subject?

Science mostly the parts focusing on biology and medicine. I really enjoyed it in high school and when I was in college.

15. Dream job?

My dream job and life plan was to be a school psychologist and a writer under a pseudonym. However, writers have become a sort of influencer these days and I literally have zero interest in that sort of attention.

The school psychiatrist thing was burst by the college I was going to literally being too expensive for me. Made funnier by the fact I was going to a community one that mysteriously lost my grant mid semester. Putting me in a pay us this pile of money you don't have or leave situation. I had all A's at the time. Ha, ha... So, I'm at a I don't even want to bother anymore point honestly. Also schools are unsurprisingly dangerous in the states and pay staff very little. So it's more risk than reward.

[dragonofeternal]

2 tag memes

I got tagged in two different memes this week! Yaaay~

Current things tag meme!

Tagged by @ghoul-misadventures

3 ships: Millionsummers, Vashwood, LeoJoker

Last song: "radio protector" by 65daysofstatic

Currently reading: The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Currently watching: I don't really watch a lot of TV, but I have been on and off binging through the "how it's actually made" parody dub-overs by huggbees on youtube. I also want to check out Flanagan's "Fall of the House of Usher" but starting shows is hard for me XDD

Last movie: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh assuming that hours long youtube documentaries don't count, then I think the last thing I watched might have been the fucking FF7 Advent Children Director's Cut that we rewatched over the summer. (I feel like I've watched something since then but I can't. Remember. What it would have been. So. Yeah.)

Currently consuming: After binging through it in like 2 days, I am now more slowly replaying through Paranormasight

Currently craving: hot chocolate bc it's really cold and rainy here =A=

15 people 15 questions tag meme

tagged by @rosemirmir!

1. are you named after anyone? My first name is the name of my cut-throat great- (or was it great-great?) grandmother who earned the family fortune, and my middle name came from my mom's college roommate.

2. when was the last time you cried? Uhhhh... Like... a couple therapy sessions ago? I have a really good therapist, so we're working on a lot of shit, but unfortunately that means I cry somewhat frequently ><

3. do you have kids? Nope! Not really my scene, but more power to those who do.

4. what sports do you play/have you played? I did basketball on and off in elementary school, and my high school tried to get me to join the basketball team there too, but uhhh I wanted to do theatre more and I only had time to do one or the other. Not a "sport" but I'm gonna be taking an aerial silks class soon!

5. do you use sarcasm? Never. (yes)

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? I don't. (I dunno? Height? I'll be honest and say I'm not the most observant about other people lol)

7. what’s your eye color? Blue~

8. scary movies or happy endings? That's a weird dichotomy to present XDDD I guess happy endings if we're talking movies, because I prefer horror in games, writing, comics, and audio mediums slightly more than movies.

9. any talents? Writing and acting spring to mind as two that are both "I've always been fairly talented in this" and "I have worked a lot to hone this skill."

10. where were you born? DC~

11. what are your hobbies Numerous. Uhhh, I write, I draw, I play video and tabletop games, I take walks, I enjoy watching anime and getting way too serious about it.....

12. do you have any pets? We have four cats at home! Two are technically "mine" and Killians, and two are technically Pat's, but yeah. They're good kitties

13. how tall are you? 5'9"

14. favorite subject in school? History! (Though I also honestly very much enjoyed Math bc it was one of the easiest to keep on top of homework and shit in lol)

15. dream job Honestly I'm really, really happy with my current job. It's not anything I necessarily would have expected being like HOMGORZ DREAM JOBBBBB but it's like? Really fulfilling and enjoyable? So uh. Admin for an LGBTQ Health Equity Center XDDD.

tagging @rosemirmir @ghoul-misadventures @arahith @onlines @clockworkspider @setsuntamew @ehyde @jacenbren @orcelito @xx-bluesummers-xx and whoever else feels inspired to do either of these in the most "seriously no pressure guys just do it if you feel like it" way XDD

[teenagelife-101]

Highschool sucks

When I was little I was always getting called ugly. I used to have a little mustache when I was little so they would make fun of me for that. Then when I got older they would make fun of my teeth saying that I looked like a rabbit and asked me if I wanted carrots or something. Then I got even older and it got worse, the girls in my class wouldn't let me play with them because I was so ugly.. or they would call me a man. So when I got in middle school I switched schools and got braces, silly little me thing that it would fix things. It didn't. When I had my braces I had two little gaps in my teeth where my teeth would grow in at and they would make fun of me for that.

They called me four teeth and said that I looked like a man all the way to end of my eighth grade year. I finally thought that I would be free that summer and that I could had a glow up and everything would be ok, but then they posted about me on tiktok. They posted about how ugly I was and how I thought I was all that. None of my "friends" tried to stand up for me. All they did was laugh and egg them on. Not once did they asked if it hurt my feelings.. or if I was ok. So I stopped talking to everyone. I hated myself, and I begged god every night to take my life and let me be with him.

Cause I didn't understand my purpose anymore. Why did I have to go through this when I didn't do anything. All I wanted was to be like everyone else.. to look like every other pretty girl in my grade. So I spent my whole summer trying to glow up. I put on makeup, got a new clothes, new shoes,, the whole shabang ya know? So then i went to school and got some new friends even found myself a boyfriend and made the varsity volleyball team.

Yeah that happiness only lasted for a little while. Soon people started to think i was aggravating and loud. I hang around them but you can tell they don't want to hang around me. Then my boyfriend got tired of me and dumped me. Which turns out he only wanted me so he could hit. Which i kind of knew that there was no way he could really like me because he's so handsome and I'm just me. plain old aggravating me.

After we broke up he got with a different girl just a few days after. He even asked her to be his valentine. He gave her the gift that he got me. I told all of my friends it didn't matter course i had been cheating on him even though i wasn't.. i just need something to make me feel better. The girl was so much more prettier than me too.. she's short and very curvy. She has pretty teeth and great humor so no wonder he wanted her.

So now here I am. Its almost the end of freshman year.. all my friends are tired of me.. my boyfriend left me.. and I feel like I literally have nobody. I thought that's this year would have been different but I'm at the same spot I was last year. I'm have a lot of best friends but I'm nobody's bestfriend.. and all the boys that I wanted to talk to ended up talking with my friends. Not to mention that my friends like to make jokes at me.. calling me ugly and saying that nobody likes me. Even though I know that their joking I just cant help but think about it yk. But deep down I know they mean what there saying, I'm just scared to ask them about it because I don't wanna be alone again. So yh.. great way to start off my fucked up years of high school.

I don't know who's all gonna read this but I just wanted to make sure I'm not alone yk.. so yh bye

[randomdancingwhore]

Secret’s Out - Peter Parker x Bimbo! F! Reader

Summary: It's time for Peter to tell his girlfriend about Spiderman. It won't be that hard, right?

Request: "I was wondering if I could request an x men bimbo reader? Or a spider man reader where peter goes to school with a girl who seems like a Total bimbo but instantly is like 'yeah of course I've been knowing that you're spider man, duh!" @chipster-21​ hope you like it!

Warnings: Sexual role play hinted at.

Notes: This request was supposed to come out ages ago, but I kinda got carried away with it for a while but don't worry, I shortened it, lol.

'Today is the day,' Peter thought, 'I'm gonna tell her.'

Peter paced back and forth in the hallway wearing his aunt's long frilly robe as Y/N reclined in his bedroom.

She had caught him off guard. He had just come back from a crime-fighting spree and was still in costume when Y/N burst in. With no other choice, Peter threw on the nearest clothing article, which just happened to be Aunt May's light pink robe.

He tried to explain that he just put it on for fun, an excuse that would typically work on her, but when Y/N furrowed her brow and said,

"That robe is salmon, and that's def' a summer/spring colour, but you have mega winter/fall undertones, and you know it. There’s nothing fun about unflattering colour combinations. Peter...are you like hiding something from me?"

He didn't know how to react, so he didn't. He stood there and stuttered till Y/N had walked into his room, most likely texting her friends about the situation.

He hated lying to her; she was already clueless about so much, but it was for her own good; she was known to talk without thinking much, and if she ever let it slip that she knew who Spiderman was, his enemies could hurt her.

But enough was enough. Lying to her was hurting her too.

Gathering his wits, he opened his bedroom door, ready to face Y/N.

She sat up on his bed and looked at him expectantly,

"Y/N, I have to tell you something..."

The girl suddenly began to bounce up and down, clapping ecstatically. "Omg! The big secret is coming out, this's just like that one episode of 'Love and HipHop Atlanta' where Erica told Safaree that she was like super preggo and then he literally drove off on a mini four-wheeler, which was like totes lame" Y/N watches a lot of mindless reality TV "Anyways, what were you saying?"

"It's just, I don't want you to think of me any differently after this"

"Babe, just spill already. The suspense is totally breaking me out, and I have an Insta shoot tomorrow."

Peter sighed, and with brief hesitation, he ripped open the bathrobe, exposing his spider-suit.

Y/N gasped "Are we like finally doing the Spiderman role play thing?" Instantly and without cause, Y/N begins to imitate a stereotypical damsel in distress "Oh, Spiderman won't you come save me from the evil men, please take me home and show me how that web-shooter of yours really works-"

"No! T-that's not what's going on, we're not doing that. This isn't just a costume; I'm Spiderman, Y/N, that's what I've been keeping from you, and I can't anymore because...I love you."

There's a brief moment of silence.

"Duhh," The girl chimes matter-of-factly.

"You knew I loved you?" He says softly

"No, I didn't know that part yet and ILYT BTW, Peter. I said, 'duhh' because I like already knew you were Spiderman."

Peter's eyes widen. "What?!"

"Spiderman has saved me like a dozen times and I’m doing this über exclusive perfume mixing class so I started like noticing scents and you two totally have the same smell," she explains.

Peter is horrified. "I have a smell?"

"Yeah,” she sang “You smell like 'teenaged boy who uses AXE body spray as a substitute for a social life,' with unique notes of A4 paper, freshly ironed clothes and strawberry shortcake frosting."

"That's...interesting, but why didn't you ever say anything about me being Spiderman?"

"Because I'm not supposed to say your secret out loud, obvi, that's what good super-hero girlfriends do; I read that on Pinterest."

Peter's heart warmed at that. He realized now that he never should have doubted Y/N.

The touching moment was cut short when Peter's bedroom door was swung open by his aunt.

The scene before her was of Y/N sitting on the bed with Peter standing in front of her, May's bathrobe held wide open and her nephew was seemingly showing off his 'web shooter' to his girlfriend.

"Peter!!!" She screamed.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: when you're paired with the most popular girl in your grade for Chemistry class, you definitely don't expect to start liking her like that...

warning/s: none i don't think??

author's note: okay so i have a ton of requests to work through but i got sidetracked and before i knew it, five parts of this imagine were written.

It's based off the song 'Teenage Dirtbag' and idk, i thought it was cute to write! Who doesn't love the popular girl!wanda and loner!reader concept?

Here’s a cover of the song to listen to because i really liked it and a girl sings it so it immediately made the song 10x more gay, just how i like it 🥰

masterlist | wattpad | part two | part three | part four | part five

"Are you all comfortable?"

The class stayed silent, watching our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Hale, as he looked to everyone with a raised brow.

"You all like who you're sat with?" he asked again, as if expecting an actual response from someone.

I exchanged questioning glances with my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat beside me. It was the first day back in Chemistry class of our final year of high school and we were just waiting to begin.

"Anyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," a few students mumbled in response so we could move on.

He clapped his hands together. "Great! Well, don't get too comfortable because I made a seating chart."

A chorus of groans erupted from the class, including from me and Y/BF/N. Every other class had successfully managed to not give us a seating chart. I'd heard that Mr. Hale was an awkward teacher who hated students (ironically), but I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to pair us with students who weren't our friends. These new seats were also our partners for the rest of the year and were non-negotiable, so any projects or work we did would have to be with our seat buddy. Fun.

Students began to shuffle to their newly-assigned seats reluctantly as Mr. Hale read out the chart. When Y/BF/N left my side, I frowned dramatically, waving goodbye to him.

"Wanda Maximoff, you're now partners with Y/N Y/L/N," said Mr. Hale, making me look up at the mention of my name.

I didn't get chance to register what he'd said as the aforementioned girl soon approached me, settling her bag on the table beside me. I looked up and saw Wanda Maximoff smiling my way before taking a seat on the stool.

Huh. Wanda Maximoff. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade. Everybody loved her, either wanting to be friends with her, be with her or be her. I'd personally never crossed paths with her apart from the few classes we shared. She seemed nice enough, but I guess I had preconceived notions of what she was like since she'd made the very poor decision to date the most obnoxious guy ever. Anyone making decisions that terrible definitely had a flaw.

She had a twin brother, Pietro, who was also in our grade and played on the football team alongside her boyfriend. Her parents were good friends with mine, through mutual friends, I think, as I recalled my mum mentioning 'Mrs. Maximoff's boy' or 'Mrs. Maximoff's girl'. And I remembered when her family moved into our town back in second grade.

Admittedly, Wanda was the star of the show back then, too. We were only kids, but child Y/N wasn't blind. She was the first girl I'd crushed on, an innocent child crush – the crush that made me realise I liked girls. Apart from that, and the fact that she had a locker behind me in the hallway, I never really thought about her.

I glanced behind me, catching Y/BF/N's gaze across the room as he sat beside some other kid. He frowned, implying he wished we were partners, and I knew just how he felt.

Once Mr. Hale finished assigning seats, he gave us five minutes to get to know our new partners as he struggled to find the powerpoint for today's class. If there was anything worse than getting assigned seats, it was ice breakers.

"Er, well, hi," Wanda greeted, turning to face me. Green eyes sparkled brightly behind a friendly smile. "I'm Wanda. But, I mean, we already know each other."

"That we do," I said with a nod, returning her smile. "How're you doing? Your summer go well?"

She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her stool. And as she did, a waft of her perfume washed over me and I blinked, trying to ignore how nice it smelled. Floral. Subtle. It suited her.

"Good, yeah," she answered with a nod. "Could have gone on longer for all I care."

I chuckled. "I feel that. I'm definitely not ready to be back."

"Right?" she said with raised brows. "It's gonna take a while to get back into routine, that's for sure. But I guess I did miss seeing my friends everyday."

I hummed in agreement, eyes flickering to Mr. Hale as he attempted to tackle the oncoming stream of animations on his powerpoint. I tried not to laugh as I looked back to Wanda, who clearly noticed the same thing as me and stifled a smile.

"Have you had Mr. Hale before?" I asked, nodding his way.

She shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Never."

"Sucks that he makes seating charts," she said with a sigh, before realising what she said and looking to me with panicked eyes. "Not that I don't like you or anything–!"

"It's fine, I get it," I cut her off with an amused smile. "I wanted to sit with my friend, too."

She breathed out quietly, a hint of relief in her eyes, and scrunched her nose with an apologetic smile. Okay, yeah, maybe that was kind of cute. Older Y/N wasn't blind either. Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, with long brunette locks and matching hazel eyes that seemed to change from blue to green to brown in a kaleidoscope of colour. A winning smile and soothing voice was enough for anyone to fall for her unintentional charm, but it was purely admiration. Everyone pretty much had a mild crush on her, you'd be stupid not to.

"If we're gonna be working together, d'you wanna get the whole awkward number exchange out the way now?" she asked, half joking, half not.

"I– er– sure," I stumbled out rather carelessly, before cringing internally. Where did that come from?

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on it (or just saved me the embarrassment of acknowledging it) and was already writing her number on a slip of paper. Sliding it my way, she capped her pen and gave me her signature smile.

"Thanks," I said with a nod, accepting the paper and pocketing it. "Can't wait to start those lovely science projects we've got coming up!"

She let out a quiet laugh at my sarcasm. "It'll be fine. You're not dumb, right? So, we'll be fine."

"Can't promise you that," I joked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"Maybe if we–"

But she was cut off when Mr. Hale spoke up loudly, interrupting everyone's conversations.

"Five minutes are up, let's begin!"

I wondered if everyone was thinking the same thing as me – that was not five minutes.

"So it begins...," I mumbled to myself, facing forward.

Wanda breathed out, a stifled laugh, probably having heard my comment, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Maybe I judged her too harshly. She wasn't actually that bad.

—

Since being paired with Wanda, I was surprised by how much she'd made an effort to befriend me outside of class. We'd always been back to back with our lockers though not quite speaking, but since becoming Chemistry partners, she'd wish me a good morning if she caught me, or greet me briefly as we collected our books.

She didn't have to, but I could see why everybody liked her now. She was just genuinely nice. Due to circumstance, we'd become partners, but rather than leaving it at that, she made a genuine effort to befriend me. And not even just me, but also Y/BF/N, who was at the locker next to mine. He was as surprised as I was, expecting Wanda to mind her own business as we weren't exactly in the same social circles.

This was, I guess you could say, the start of our friendship. And it was a good one at that. I grew to learn how funny she was, how much she loved her brother, the passion she had for art and painting... she was a wonderful person. Which is why I didn't understand why she was with her boyfriend, Nate. He was a grade-A dick and everything Wanda wasn't. How were they a thing?

It sounds like I'm being a bitch and judgemental, but he really is the worst. The few unfortunate times I shared a class with him or caught sight of him around school, he was causing some sort of trouble with the teachers or picking on students in a way that made it seem like a joke but everybody knew it wasn't.

For example, there was a time when Wanda and I were studying for an upcoming Chemistry test we had. We decided to just help each other study since we already worked together in class, so knew we could motivate each other to actually put in the work. It was, maybe, the fourth studying session we had, and I was going over some notes when I felt her eyes watching me.

"You need a hand?" I asked, unable to take the staring any longer. I looked up at her, quirking a brow.

She seemed to fall out of her daydream and straightened up, eyes flickering to mine. "Huh?"

I gave her an awkward smile, unable to maintain her gaze. "You're staring."

She didn't seem fazed as I called her out, instead leaning back in her seat and continuing to study me curiously.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Subconsciously reaching for my hair, I straightened up my ponytail and shook my head. "No...?"

She chewed on her lip, saying after a pause, "You tied it up. You usually leave it out."

Did I? I wasn't sure. I just knew that her noticing something like that made me feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"It looks good," she decided, before offering up a small smile. "You should do it like that more often."

Quickly, I felt warm. Was it stuffy in here or was it just me? God, compliments already made me feel stupid. And compliments from pretty girls made me feel ten times that. It didn't help that she was watching me with an endearing expression, making me focus on my book before me.

"Thanks," I got out quickly. "I– yeah."

Her smile widened before she looked back down to her own book. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the way her leg brushed up against mine under the table.

Thankfully, the strange fuzzy feeling following her compliment faded and we were able to get back to work without her tuning out again. As we were going over each other's practice questions, an annoying voice shouted from across the library.

"Wanda, head's up!"

"Hey, no talking in the library!" a librarian hissed at the voice.

Wanda and I looked up just in time for a football to smack me in the side of the head. I didn't even see it coming until I felt the thing slap my head, giving me an instant urge to strangle whoever threw it.

"Fuck," I cursed, holding my head and closing my eyes to breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Wanda's voice made me open my eyes and I saw her leaning forward, hand resting on my shoulder and the other on top of mine that was clutching my head.

"Been better," I admitted, trying to make light of the situation because as angry as I was at the idiot who threw it, I was also embarrassed because it hit me.

Wanda seemed concerned as she gently pulled me hand away, not letting go as she got a better look at the side of my face which I was sure was burning red. At least that's what it felt like.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up and saw none other than Nate Green, Wanda's boyfriend, hovering and stifling a laugh as he looked at me. He had his stupid varsity jacket on and I was tempted to strangle him with it.

"I thought Wanda would catch it," he explained stupidly, before moving around the desk to collect his football.

Breathing out through gritted teeth, I pulled away from Wanda and nodded reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Just need an ice pack."

"You're such an idiot, Nate!" Wanda snapped, looking to him with a glare. "You need to watch what you're doing!"

He smiled sheepishly, making me roll my eyes and clench my jaw at the heat on the right side of my face. Fuck, that really hurt.

"What did you want?" Wanda asked him with a quirked brow. She definitely wasn't impressed. I'd hate to ever be on the wrong side of that condescending glare.

"I thought we could go out," he said like it was that simple.

"I'm studying," she quipped with crossed arms.

"I'm happy to wait," he said, toying with the ball in his hands.

Knowing I definitely didn't want that, I closed my books and said, "It's cool. You guys go. I think we're done here anyway."

Nate grinned. "See? S'all good."

Wanda ignored him and looked to me with worried eyes. "Y/N, are you sure?"

"You know your stuff," I said, referring to the work. "You'll be fine in the test. I'm sure."

I offered her a small, forced smile, before standing up to pack my bag. She did the same, beginning to pack her own things, but her eyes kept flittering towards me.

"D'you want me to go to the nurse's office with you?" she asked, shame laced in her voice.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," I said, hurrying up with my actions so I could just get out of here whilst I still had (some of) my dignity left. "See you in class tomorrow."

She nodded, sending a guilty smile my way. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Without giving either of them a look, I shouldered my backpack and left the library. Just another reminder of why Nate Green was literally the worst person ever.

—

Liking Wanda as more than a friend wasn't something that happened for a while if I'm being honest. I guess I started to enjoy her presence more and more the longer we spent time together.

I'd come to appreciate it whenever she'd say something completely out of the blue that made no sense whatsoever, or whenever she'd laugh at something I'd said that was arguably not funny but she didn't want to make me feel bad, or even whenever I teased her about something stupid she did, resulting in her doing that cute little nose scrunch she did. But I didn't think of it as liking her, more just a randomly-formed friendship that I was glad to have.

Maybe it was this misinterpretation that didn't make me see how I was acting around her, such as the time I was in the dinner queue at lunch when I realised she was stood behind me.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she said when she noticed it was me in front of her. Her usual bright, friendly smile was on her lips as she looked to me. "You good?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yeah. Just getting some doughnuts for Y/BF/N and I. You?"

"Same," she said, before nudging the guy next to her, who I recognised as her brother. "Pietro and I thought we'd treat ourselves."

At the mention of his name, Pietro looked down to his sister before his gaze fell on me. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he put out his hand.

"Pietro Maximoff," he introduced. "You must be the Chemistry partner, Y/N, right?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as I shook his hand. "You, er, know who I am?"

He glanced at his sister with a cheeky smile. Wanda was avoiding both of our gazes, her cheeks dusting pink.

Clearly saving face for Wanda, he said, "We've been in the same grade since kids, right? 'Course I do."

Despite the truth to his words, something told me that wasn't how he knew who I was. Especially since I was sure I'd never spoken to him in my life. But, to save Wanda the embarrassment of clearly having spoken of me at home, I nodded to Pietro.

"Right," I agreed with an amused smile. "Duh."

I moved down the queue and grabbed two doughnuts from the display, putting them in two separate paper bags.

"Dibs the last one!" Pietro exclaimed as soon as I returned the clippers to the display. He reached around his sister immaturely and bagged the last doughnut.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You know I can ask for more, right?"

Pietro grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on then."

The two were twins, but they couldn't have been more different. I simply revelled in their interaction, finding it adorable.

Wanda did as she said, asking the dinner lady if there were any more doughnuts in the back. Unfortunately for her, those were the last for the day, making Pietro laugh as Wanda pouted.

"Sucks to be you," he teased her, as I paid for mine and Y/BF/N's doughnuts.

"I hate you," she mumbled playfully, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes as he lovingly but annoyingly waved his bag before her eyes.

Without even thinking much of it, I held out one of the bags in my hand. "Here. You can have mine."

Wanda looked to me with surprise. "Are you sure? I can live without a doughnut, if that's what you're thinking."

I chuckled, grabbing her hand and making her take it. "It's okay. I wasn't in the mood anyway."

Plus, you look better when you're smiling and not pouting, I added in my head.

She accepted the bag reluctantly. "I– thanks. At least let me pay for it–"

"It's just a doughnut, Wanda," I teased, before nodding her way. "See you later."

Leaving her and Pietro to it, I headed back to the table Y/BF/N was sat at and took a seat opposite him before giving him his doughnut.

"Sweet," he said, quickly opening the bag before realising I didn't have one. "Where's yours?"

Over his shoulder, I saw Wanda and Pietro taking a seat at their lunch table, doughnuts in hand and a heartwarming smile on Wanda's lips.

"They ran out," I answered Y/BF/N. "Wasn't in the mood anyway. Enjoy."

He shrugged before digging in. I'd like to say I didn't spare glances in Wanda's direction every now and then for the rest of the lunch hour, but I'd be lying if I did.

—

I'm in the art department. You okay to bring it here?

I read over the text Wanda sent me before shooting her an 'okay' and heading to the Art department. I'd grabbed her notebook in class earlier on, only realising as I was studying with Y/BF/N in the library and pulled out an extra one, so I was going to give it her back.

I guess, when you realise you like someone, it comes randomly, suddenly, without warning. Liking someone isn't instant, it's constant and gradual and subconscious. I guess I'd been falling for Wanda for a while, without even realising, but today was the day I acknowledged that fact.

The Art department wasn't somewhere I frequented regularly – give me a paint and brushes and I'd probably present you with a finger painting – but it was definitely worth the visit. Art pieces from current and past students were hung on the walls, a mural of the school was spray painted on another, and sculptures stood around. The whole department brought a smile to anyone's face with its bright colours and open space – I could see why Art students always hung out here, Wanda included.

Speaking of Wanda, I found her in one of the classrooms sat at a stool in front of a series of canvasses. The room had a few other Art students littered around, working on their own pieces during their lunch period, otherwise it was empty.

"Hey," I called, getting her attention as I approached her.

She followed my voice and straightened up with a cheery smile. "Y/N, hey. Thanks for coming. I'm working on my Art project, so I couldn't pull myself away."

I waved my hand dismissively, joining her side. "It's all good, don't worry." My eyes wandered to the series of canvases on easels she was working on and widened. "Holy shit, these are so good."

Three unfinished hyperrealistic portraits of people were before us, one whom I recognised as Pietro. The paintings were so detailed, despite their medium-size, and I couldn't imagine how long they must have taken.

"You think?" she asked, glancing between them. "I think I messed up the nose here." She pointed with the back end of her paintbrush to the nose of Pietro. "It's a bit bent."

I almost laughed as I looked to her with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Wanda, these are amazing. How did you even do this?"

She looked down bashfully, a nervous smile on her lips. "I don't know. It's for a project. I chose to do family portraits." She pointed to each one as she said, "My mum, my dad and my brother."

I was in awe of her talent, jaw dropped with amazement still. I always knew she was an artist, but I'd never actually seen her work. I was starting to wish I'd come here a lot sooner.

"So, you got my notebook?" she asked, pulling me back into reality.

I looked away from the paintings reluctantly before getting her notebook from my bag and holding it out for her. As she accepted it, she must have forgotten she was holding her paintbrush as the tip brushed my wrist, leaving a swipe of red there.

"Oh, my bad," she said with a laugh, before setting her notebook and brush down and grabbing a paper towel from beside her.

Wetting it with water from her bottle, she pressed it to my wrist and swiped the paint away. It was such a mundane action, but the way her fingers gently held my wrist and emanated a warmth only she seemed to carry sent shivers down my spine.

I glanced up at her, letting her do it, and noticed the swipe of paint she had across her cheek, as if she'd touched her face without realising.

Now that I paid attention, I noticed how cute she looked in her Art getup. An old, oversized shirt covered in paint was being worn to cover her clothes, sleeves loosely rolled up to her elbows. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail, but her baby hairs framed her forehead adorably.

When her hair wasn't in her face, her eyes only seemed more intense, glistening with excitement and happiness. I almost forgot to breathe when they met mine briefly, a hint of embarrassment there from when cleaning me up. She was in her element here and it made sense to me now.

I knew I'd fallen for her.

—

"You don't get it," I was saying to Y/BF/N as we hung about the school gym, waiting for the teacher to start the lesson. "It's bad. I like her. Like, like like her."

Y/BF/N laughed, clapping me on the back with pity. "You're screwed."

I frowned. "I know."

As he stretched for class, he continued, "I mean, I get it, I do. She's super nice. Pretty. And you guys seem to get on."

I chewed on my lower lip worriedly.

He gave me a knowing look. "There's one problem though."

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I know, I know. She's got that dick of a boyfriend."

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

I sighed, crossing my arms with annoyance. Since realising I liked Wanda as a little more than a friend, things weren't going well for me. Whenever we worked together, I'd forget what I was thinking because I was too busy admiring her side profile or getting lost in her eyes. If she spoke about the work, told a joke or was simply speaking her thoughts aloud, I'd focus on every little thing she was saying, knowing I could listen to her speak all day. It was bad, but thankfully I hadn't stumbled over my words or made a total fool of myself in front of her. I was determined to not let it get that far.

My eyes wandered around the gym as Y/BF/N tried to give me advice, but admittedly, his words flew in one ear and out the other when I caught sight of Wanda.

She was standing with her friends, smiling and laughing to whatever they were saying. Like everyone else in here, she was wearing her gym kit – black athletic shorts and a blue and white tee shirt, the colour of our school. It wasn't anything special, yet she made it seem that way, outdoing anyone in here. Her brown hair was tied back, the ponytail falling down her back, showing her stunning profile and making my mouth go dry.

Another clap on the back from Y/BF/N pulled me from my reverie and I looked to see he was laughing at me.

"Majorly screwed," he corrected his previous comment.

He was definitely right.

[ambrossart]

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 26

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content (not smut), bullying, physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, love triangles, unrequited love, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 7,241

MASTERPOST

At a table of freshmen and sophomores, ninth-grader Donny McGinty rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. "Man, I love hamburger day!"

Elsewhere, Belch Huggins was weaving through the cafeteria with four hamburgers, three cheeseburgers, and a massive serving of fries on his tray: a substantial lunch by any standard, yet it would do little to satiate the hunger of a growing sixteen-year-old boy, especially one of Belch Huggins's impressive stature. To remedy this, Belch snatched another burger out of some random freshman's hands... out of poor Donny McGinty's hands, and just as he was about to take his first bite, too.

"Oh, come on, man!" Donny whined like a baby, but one good shake of Belch's fist shut him right up. The kid's mouth closed with a snap and he gulped uneasily. His schoolmates sat in silent trepidation, their eyes like vacant windows.

"Take it," Donny said to Belch Huggins in a whimpering voice. "Take it, it's yours."

After all, a cheap cafeteria hamburger was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, and as a freshman, you gotta learn when to take your lumps. So while Donny McGinty didn't relish the thought of going to class hungry, it sure beat the hell out of a knuckle sandwich... two, if Belch Huggins was feeling especially generous. Donny took his lumps like a champ that day and settled for a joyless lunch of soggy fries and sour dill pickle slices. Hopefully, the next hamburger day would go his way.

Belch Huggins arrived at his friends' table with a tray overflowing with burgers and fries. He sighed deeply, contently, and sat down. "Man, I love hamburger day."

He received a grunt from Victor Criss, who was sitting with his forehead smushed against his palm. Vic had a government quiz next period and was hoping to squeeze in a quick review during lunch. Yeah, so much for that. He reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the chicken scratch on his notebook and pretended to take an interest in the burgers on his friend's tray.

"I can see that," Vic said to Belch, his face a dull mask of boredom. "You think that's gonna be enough, though?"

Sarcasm often soared over Belch's head. Today was no different. He looked down at his tray for a minute, like he was actually considering it. "Well, if it's not, I can always grab another one, right?" He popped a fry into his mouth, chuckling as he chewed. The fry was cold and under seasoned, but otherwise not half bad. He made a motion toward Vic's untouched lunch tray. "Hey, you gonna eat that?"

"Hm?" Vic had gone back to studying and, therefore, had little interest in anything else—food included. "Nah, I'm not hungry."

Belch frowned. "Teeth hurt that bad, huh?"

Vic read the same bullet point twice before looking up again. This time, his brown eyes had sharpened into an irritated glare, his most polite way of saying, Shut the fuck up. Belch got the message loud and clear and backed off. Meanwhile, Seth McFadden was on the fifth leg of his goodbye tour and bawling in front of a table of juniors. Vic observed him with a smirk and felt his temper cool down considerably. He decided that whatever anger he felt toward Belch, he would gladly pass on to Seth McFadden after school, because that was the kind of guy Victor Criss was now.

That's right, Vic, you're just as filthy as the rest of them. Eventually, she's gonna see that... and when she does, I don't think she'll like you very much. 

Behind him, there was a squeal of feminine laughter, annoying and shrill. Vic peered over his shoulder and saw a group of senior girls sitting with no food on their table, just a couple cans of Diet Coke. One girl, a busty brunette with a silver scrunchie in her hair, was waving her arms and shouting belligerently over the others: "Look, I was drunk and horny and Matt had literally just passed out in front of me, okay?" She slapped away her friend's accusing finger. "It was a momentary lapse of judgment, nothing more, and I don't think I deserve to be crucified for that."

Her snickering friend said, "Hey, we're not judging your morals, only your taste in men," and the seniors howled with laughter.

Victor turned back and found himself burdened with a great weight of tension in his neck and shoulders. He closed his notebook and said to Belch in a low voice, "Hey, you heard that rumor, right?"

"Which rumor?" Belch asked with his mouth full.

"The one about Henry and some girl."

"Oh... Yeah, I heard that one." Belch kept chewing. "So?"

"So, what do you think?" Victor's eyes were grave, and he was frowning. This made Belch Huggins a little uneasy. All of a sudden, the food in his mouth had no taste. It was sticking to his teeth like glue.

"Do I think he raped somebody?" And these words became sticky, too. No longer glue. Now it was like wet cement slowly filling up every nook and cranny in his mouth, and if he didn't hurry and swallow, it was going to dry and harden and seal his mouth shut forever.

Belch forced everything down his throat in one painful gulp. Then he shook his head. "No way."

"But you paused."

"Yeah, because it's so stupid."

"You paused," Vic said again. His gaze was pensive and grim.

Belch took off his cap and combed a hand through his hair. The hamburgers still lay in a clumsy pile on his tray. Six, seven, eight—why the hell had he grabbed so many? Belch put his hat back on and gave it a little twist so that it sat just right. "You really think he did it?"

Vic sucked in a deep breath, then let it out. "Shit, I dunno, man... Couple years ago, I would've said not a fucking chance. But now, with everything else he's done, I honestly wouldn't be shocked if it was true."

"Oh, come on..."

"Look, you didn't see him that night, Reg. He was acting weird, really weird. Something definitely happened when he went off on his own."

Belch thought, Okay, something, maybe, but not that. No, Henry wasn't capable of anything like that. That was some next-level shit. That was something Martin Davers did when he was drunk and bored on the weekends. He would pick out a girl at a party, usually an underclassman because they were the most desperate and eager to impress, and he and his bonehead friends would plow her with cheap beer and booze until she could barely stand. Then Martin would play the gentleman and offer to drive her home. The next morning, the girl would wake up in an unfamiliar place (usually in a park; sometimes on the side of the road) with an unexplainable ache between her legs. A small few might come forward and say something, but most knew it was better to just shut up about it. After all, it was partly their fault, right? They should have known better than to get wasted at a party. That's what Cheryl Lamonica's father told her, anyway, and he forced her to drop out of school when he found out she was pregnant.

Belch was a freshman when he first saw it all play out. It happened right in front of him at some house party. At first, Belch felt like he was watching a movie or something. He stood there with his half-empty beer and thought, There's no way this is really happening right now. I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. 

He nudged Victor Criss and asked if he was seeing the same thing. Vic just told him to mind his own business. "This has nothing to do with us," he said, and looked the other way.

But Belch Huggins couldn't look the other way. He watched Martin carry the girl out the front door while thirty drunk teenagers pretended to ignore it. Then something inside him snapped, and he was moving, but by the time his feet hit the porch, it was too late. The pickup was already gone; those red tail lights got smaller and smaller and smaller... When Belch got home that night, he could barely look his mother in the eye.

It got easier after that, something Belch Huggins wasn't too proud to admit. After a while, he trained himself to look the other way, like everyone else.

See, Martin Davers was an S-tier scumbag—a special kind of asshole, truly—and Henry Bowers, rotten as he was, had yet to reach that tier. At parties, Henry preferred to sulk alone in the corner and glare at everyone. Sometimes he would get blackout drunk and start a fight for no reason. He might punch a hole through someone's wall or break a window or kick in a door. Sometimes he might run his mouth a little too much, make a lot of threats, shoot off a lewd comment or two, but that was it. Anything more than that would have sent Henry Bowers teetering a little too far across the thin line he always walked. And if Belch Huggins ever thought Henry was going to cross that line, he would step in and pull him back, because Belch owed him that much.

This morning, his friend came dangerously close to crossing that line. The way he stormed over to Evelyn Tozier, the way he grabbed her, and that look in his eyes—that wasn't the Henry he knew. And there was a good three to five seconds where Belch honestly thought he might have to jump in and wrestle Henry to the ground before he did something he would seriously regret.

That's why he paused.

Vic rubbed some of the tension out of his neck. "He's spiraling, isn't he?"

"No," said Belch. "No, I don't think he is."

But every day that line gets thinner and thinner. How much longer until he...? Belch couldn't bring himself to finish that thought.

Henry Bowers had been using the same lunch chair since the seventh grade.

It was one of those stackable ones you can find in just about every high school across the country. A soft plastic shell on a tubular steel frame, with rivets and cut-outs for air ventilation. They make your ass and thighs stick to the seat if you sit on them too long—or if it's summer and you're sweating your balls off and the school's too cheap to invest in proper air conditioning (but that's okay because your seat is equipped with these special air-vents that do absolutely fucking nothing)—and when you go to stand, you can actually feel your skin peeling off the plastic like you're a human fruit roll-up.

That was Henry's chair, except by now the legs on his were all scuffed and scratched, and the seat had about a dozen cracks in it. Henry used these cracks to identify his special chair (this was before he carved his initials into the backrest, first with a pen and later with a knife). If he ever found it out of place, he would track it down, yank it out from underneath whatever sorry sonofabitch was sitting on it, and take it back to his table where it belonged.

Today, he found his chair at a table of ninth- and tenth-graders. And who was sitting on it? Well, Donny McGinty, of course, because that kid was having the unluckiest of unlucky days. One minute Donny was eating his lunch and trying to make the best out of the shitty hand he'd been dealt, and the next he was on his ass and drenched with milk from his own carton.

Would this torture ever end?

"You didn't have to do that," Donny said while Henry Bowers dragged his chair away. "I would've given you the chair! I would've given you the chair! Man, this school sucks..."

Henry flipped his chair around before sitting down. That's when he first noticed the stares, those not-so-secret glances. It was a lot harder to ignore them in the cafeteria, when he was sitting right in the middle of it with his back against the wall. Half the looks were nervous and fearful. The other half were disgruntled and fatigued—sick and tired of the same old bullshit. Nobody wanted him back, not the students, not the teachers, not even the janitor, Mr. Marsh. When Henry walked into his homeroom class, his teacher gave him this worn-out, miserable look, like she'd spent hours cleaning up after her sick dog and discovered a smear of shit on the bottom of her shoe. Henry Bowers was the dogshit on her shoe, and now here he was, walking all over her floor.

Henry asked, "Where do you want me to sit?"

She said, "Does it really matter?"

Henry turned to grab an empty seat in the back, and she said under her breath, "God, why'd you have to come back?"

He figured that's what everyone was thinking right now.

Well, everyone except her.

Henry glanced to his left and saw Evelyn Tozier sitting with her student council friends. Their table was right next to the faculty table because Evelyn thought it made her informal student council meetings appear more legitimate. It drove all the teachers nuts. Today, like most days, she was talking absurdly loud with wide, animated hand gestures, even though her friends were literally right in front of her. It was probably really boring, whatever she was talking about, but she acted like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Evelyn had a special talent for that. She once spent ten minutes raving about a new pen. After the first three, Henry wanted to bash his head against the wall.

It's a pen, Evelyn. 

No, it's a gel pen. Gel. See how it glides across the page? See that? See? Effortless. I couldn't do this with my old ballpoint pen. And, look, they come in so many colors! Red, orange, yellow... I've got the whole damn rainbow in this one packet. It's gonna completely change the way I take notes. I almost bought some glittery ones, but I thought that'd only distract me, y'know? It'd be like a party on the page; I'd never get any studying done... Anyway, you want one? I've got plenty.

I've got pens. 

Yeah, 'cause you steal all mine... and my pencils. Here, take a blue one. 

I don't want it. 

Oh, take it. You can never have enough pens. 

Henry took the pen, but never used it. He just threw it on his dresser when he got home. It was still there, right next to an empty, broken picture frame.

He looked at the remaining burgers on Belch's tray. "You gonna eat all those?"

"No," said Belch, sounding nauseated. He pushed the tray at Henry. "You want 'em?"

"No," said Henry. He didn't have much of an appetite. Instead, he turned toward Victor Criss and said, "So, where were you this morning?"

Vic answered with his nose buried in his notebook. "I had an appointment."

"Yeah? What kinda appointment?"

Vic shot him a dirty glance. "A doctor's appointment," he said with an unexpected burst of anger. "What the fuck does it matter to you?"

And that made Henry's temper flare up and explode! He grabbed Vic by the collar of his jacket and ripped him out his chair, pulled him up so that they were nose to nose. "The hell's your problem? Huh, Criss?"

"Nothing," Vic said, and tore himself free with little effort. "I'm just trying to cram for this stupid quiz..."

"Well, I don't give a shit about your quiz, Vic. When I ask you a question, you answer."

"He got his braces tightened," said Belch from Henry's left. "Cut him some slack, man. He's in a lot of pain right now."

Vic's fist slammed against the table. "Goddammit, Belch!"

"What? It's true!"

Henry rolled his eyes. "That's what you're all pissy about? God, you and those fucking braces, Vic... Just rip 'em out already, if you hate 'em so damn much. Or maybe I should do it for you."

Vic gave Henry the finger, and Belch busted up laughing. He turned to Henry and said, "Doesn't it feel good to be back, Henry?"

Henry opened his mouth and said... nothing; the words got tangled up in his throat, and now they were strangling him. Because when Henry Bowers turned at that exact moment, he saw something that made his stomach drop into his boots. All at once, he felt hot and cold, and he couldn't seem to find his breath. Bursts of anger and fear shot off one after the other like cannon fire. BOOM, boom, BOOM, boom, BOOM! He wanted to hit somebody, but he couldn't lift his hand. He wanted to scream at somebody, but he couldn't unscrew his jaw. And all the while she sat there sipping her Diet Coke, her blood-red nails curled against the can. They might as well have been curled around his throat.

Has anyone kissed you yet? a phantom voice asked.

Henry saw the answer in his head, spelled out for him like tiles on a Scrabble board, but he couldn't say it out loud. His throat was too tight.

Belch Huggins was talking to him now, but Henry couldn't hear him. He was miles away, deep in the woods, in the dark, pinned helplessly against the tree. He could feel the bark scraping against his elbow. Feel the wind nipping at his skin. His pants had fallen around his ankles, and now they were fastened around them like shackles.

I suppose you've never had one of these before, either, the phantom voice said. Then—

A hand landed on Henry's shoulder, and he wrenched himself away, ready to swing. "Don't fucking touch me!" he hissed, but it was only Belch Huggins. He had both hands up like he was surrendering. His expression was nervous and deeply concerned.

"Whoa... you okay, Henry?"

Henry sucked in a breath, let it fill his starving lungs. "I'm fine," he said, a rumble of frustration in his voice. Henry unclenched his fist and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Then he grabbed a hamburger off Belch's tray and tore off a huge chunk with his teeth. He chewed it up and swallowed it down without even tasting it.

Belch kept watching him out of the corner of his eye. "You sure you're good?" he asked while Victor Criss observed Henry with a troubled expression.

"Yeah, I'm good," Henry said, and thought he meant it.

In time, he supposed he could forget what Manda Bosch did to him, and he could ignore all the glares and the groans, all the whispers behind his back (So what if nobody wanted him back in school? They could all go to hell, for all he cared), because there was a girl sitting over there who poured her heart out in four single-spaced pages, talking about how incredible he was, about the potential he had... still had, despite everything he had done. It took Hellyer nearly ten minutes to get through the whole thing; by the time he was done, his face was beet red and he was stumbling over his words. Henry sat there speechless, overwhelmed by emotions he didn't quite understand. He decided at that moment that if he was lucky enough to be given another chance, he wouldn't waste it like all the times before. He would do everything he could to stay in school, tough it out for a few more years, just like she said. And one day, one day, maybe he would be dragging his chair over to her lunch table... and sliding it right next to hers. Maybe one day he would—

Henry lunged across the table and burst out: "What the fuck is Hockstetter doing?"

Evelyn felt a cold metal leg push against her foot and shove it aside. It crammed itself into the much-too-small space beside her, without warning, without regard for her personal boundaries, and made a home for itself at her table. When Evelyn tried to settle her foot back into place, it landed on top of a black boot and jumped back, startled. A bony knee bumped against hers way too many times to be an accident (Evelyn kept knocking it away, and it kept coming right back). Broad, sharp shoulders loomed over her like a great bird of prey, making her feel small and weak, making her feel trapped.

Evelyn recoiled a little, what little she could, and said, "What are you doing here, Patrick?"

Patrick smiled and leaned in even closer. "Well, you're always so busy," he said. "I figured I'd squeeze myself into your schedule."

"No..." Evelyn's head shook on its own. "No, I'm not okay with this."

It was one thing for Patrick to show up at her house unannounced. He could stalk her around school, around town, even break into the Denbrough house and scare her half to death. That she could handle. That she could let roll off her shoulders. (Insane and disturbing as it was, at least it was happening to her privately.) But when Patrick approached her at school, in the cafeteria of all places, he was creating a major inconvenience for her.

Evelyn peeked over her shoulder and saw Steph Price, who was SO NOT JEALOUS, glaring daggers at her from across the cafeteria. Zero interest, huh? those razor-sharp eyes screamed. Zero interest, my ass, you lying bitch!

Evelyn winced and turned back around, unaware of the second pair of eyes that were watching her—the bright blue ones that flickered anxiously between her and Patrick Hockstetter, the ones that blazed with rage and jealousy, but also hid a lot of hurt.

"Look, Patrick, we use these lunch periods to discuss very important student council business."

Patrick cut her off: "Well, then I'll join student council. Where do I sign up?"

Paul and Lenny blurted out in perfect unison, "You can have my spot!"

"And just the record," Paul went on, "I don't have any pets."

Lenny said, "I only have turtles."

Patrick acknowledged them briefly, with a smirk. "Relax, guys, your pets are perfectly safe. I don't do that anymore." His eyes passed over to Evelyn as he said this, and she felt a shiver roll through her.

Yeah, you've evolved, haven't you, Patrick?

(But into what?)

Evelyn folded her hands in front of her and smiled a politician's smile. "I'm sorry, but you can't just join student council, Patrick. This isn't a social club. There's a process, you see, a very long and arduous process."

"Arduous, huh?" Patrick rested his chin on his fist and marveled at her. Beneath the table, his left hand started to wander.

"It is," Evelyn said, unaware. "You see, first you have to submit an official request for consideration. Then, if you're approved, your name gets added to the ballot at the end of the year. Then you have a week of intense campaigning, during which you might have to give speeches, participate in debates, and answer some very intrusive questions from the school reporters. Then, if you're lucky, you get elected. It's all very..."

A weight fell on her knee, warm and meaty. Evelyn shook it away. "It's all very official," she finished, and shot Patrick a sideways glare.

"It's not that official," Paul said. "The school practically begs us to apply. And Hannah-Beth didn't even get elected, technically. They let her join because Randall quit on the first day. Evelyn drove him to it, too. Man, he hated you."

"Well, not everyone's prepared for hard work," Evelyn said, and held in a gasp. The hand was back on her, and now it was crawling up her thigh like a pale, grotesque spider. She turned to Patrick with pleading eyes, begging him to stop, and he just smiled that same complacent smile.

Paul snatched a handful of fries, oblivious to what was going on. "Well, there's hard work and then there's slave work, and we tend to walk a fine line between the two—"

Evelyn yelped and leaped to her feet, her knees smacking the underside of the table with a painful whack. (Hannah-Beth gasped and drew back with fright. Paul almost choked on his fries.) Evelyn clasped her hand over her mouth and held it there, feeling the blood rush to her face and flood the apples of her cheeks. She looked down and met the colorless eyes of Patrick Hockstetter.

"You okay?" he asked.

Evelyn gaped at him, stupefied.

"What the fuck, Ev?" Paul said in a sharp, demanding voice. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," Evelyn said to him. "I, uhh, I thought I felt a bug crawling on my leg."

A very large, disgusting bug. 

She forced herself to sit back down. As soon as she did, Patrick's hand was right back on her knee. This time, Evelyn didn't push it away or even acknowledge it. She just closed her eyes and slowly counted back from ten.

You're in this now, Evie. Now the only way out is straight through. 

She reached for her notebook. "So anyway, guys, let's talk about the homecoming game. First of all, what is everyone planning to wear? And second, where did we land on face paint? Was that a yea or a nay?"

"That was a hard nay from me," said Lenny.

"Hard nay..." Evelyn wrote that down with her pen. "Okay, fair enough. No tiger faces this year."

"Someone gonna tell me what's going on?"

Henry Bowers posed this question to Belch Huggins and Victor Criss while he sat hunched over in his chair. It was a miracle he was still sitting there, actually, because every muscle in his body was fighting and straining to move, to go over there and rip Patrick Hockstetter out of that chair and beat the shit out of him with it.

Henry gnashed his teeth until his jaw got sore. "Well?"

Belch Huggins pulled off his cap and held it in his hands for a while, kept bending and unbending the bill. "You've been gone awhile," he said in a low voice.

It almost sounded like an apology.

As those words sank in, Henry's menacing expression disappeared, revealing the face of a frightened and confused child. He shook his head once and it was gone. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

He looked at Victor Criss, hoping to get a straight answer, but Vic seemed lost in a world of his own. He was staring at Evelyn and Patrick too, his brown eyes simmering with an emotion that Henry recognized right away but refused to acknowledge. After all, why worry about a fly when you've got a snarling wolf standing right in front of you?

Vic turned away when he caught Henry's eye. "Hey, don't look at me," he said cooly. "I got nothing to do with this."

That's when Belch spoke up again, in a pleading voice. "Come on, man, just ignore it. Patrick's just fucking with you."

"Yeah, I know what Hockstetter's doing," Henry snapped. "That's pretty fuckin' obvious right now, isn't it?"

He was taunting him, that lanky, smug-faced sonofabitch! He was sitting over there, putting his grimy hands all over Evelyn, because he thought Henry wouldn't do anything about it. And he was absolutely right—that was the most frustrating part! Henry couldn't do a damn thing about it, not at school anyway, because he was one fuck-up away from getting kicked out for good. Hellyer promised him that after the hearing on Saturday. He stopped him in front of the school and said, "If your name lands on my desk one more time, you're done, Bowers. You got that? One more time. I see your name on so much as a tardy slip, and you're outta here, pal. That's a promise."

Henry looked at them again, even though he didn't want to, and saw Patrick slide his hand up Evelyn's stocking-covered thigh. The sight of it made Henry's skin crawl, and not because of what Patrick was doing, because of what Evelyn wasn't doing.

Why are you letting him touch you? Henry thought, waiting for Evelyn to act—to shove him, slap him, do something! It's fucking Hockstetter, Ev! That vile creep shouldn't even exist to you! 

Henry looked to Belch and Vic for an explanation—any explanation—and when they couldn't give him one, he sought help from the only source of knowledge he had left.

In the end, Henry Bowers always went crawling back to his old man. No matter how much he hated him, no matter how many times he swore he was leaving for good, Henry always found himself climbing those creaky porch steps and dragging his feet through the door. This time, his father was waiting for him at the kitchen table, with a cold beer in his hand. He told Henry to take a seat, and Henry did.

So you wanna know why she's letting him touch her like that? His father's voice was jarringly pleasant, calm and reasonable. It's because she's a whore, just like your mother. Look at that dress she's wearing, that skimpy little skirt... You really think that's for you? 

(It's just for spirit week, Dad... She always dresses up.)

Oh, she always dresses up, does she? Butch's voice lashed out like a slap to the head, making Henry wince. Well, answer me this then, smartass: has she ever dressed up like that for spirit week? Well, has she, son? Has she? 

Henry sat in his chair, silent and unsure.

Oh, you've gone quiet now, have you, boy? That's right, you shut your damn mouth when I'm talking to you. Sitting there acting like you're so damn smart, like you know everything... 

You see, your mother used to wear dresses like that. Yeah, she used to doll herself up like a tasty little tart just to go to the damn store. And I would stand there thinking, Why the hell does she need to pretty herself up just to go to the store? Who's she trying to impress? Of course, I already knew the answer. It was right there, staring me in the face. See, once upon a time, your mother used to dress up for me and only me. Then she starts getting all high and mighty, says she's dressing up for herself now, to make herself feel good. Yeah, I bet she felt pretty damn good having all the men at the store stare at her. Bet she felt like a goddamn pinup model or something. Because the fact is, son, women dress like that for one reason and one reason alone: attention. Your mother wanted it, and so does your little sweetheart over there. And she's getting it, all right. Oh yes sir, she's getting it. Look for yourself. 

Henry did look, and he saw. Eyes. So many eyes. Full of lust and desire. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. All looking at Evelyn. They never did before, but now they were. And she was welcoming their eyes. She was smiling and laughing and basking delightfully in their gaze.

See, son? All women are whores. She's a whore, your mother was a whore. She was selfish, and she lied, and SHE LEFT US BOTH!

Henry jumped up and sat back down, putting his head between his hands. His temples were throbbing with pain and hate.

You're not a whore, Evelyn. You're not. I know you're not. You're not like her, you're not. You can't be because you're perfect and you don't make mistakes and you always do exactly what I want you to do. And I know that, I do, but I still can't get these thoughts outta my head. I feel like I'm losing my mind, Ev, and it's getting harder and harder to separate his voice from mine. But I'm stuck here, and I can't move. I'm stuck in this house, in this fucking kitchen, and he's the only one here. He's always here. And his voice, Ev, it echoes and echoes in this empty room until I can't hear anyone else... until I can't hear you anymore. And you're over there, Ev, you're so far away, and I know that's my fault, too. I fucked up, and I'm sorry, (but why did you have to say that?), and I'm trying to fix it, but I can't because I'm stuck here in this kitchen, in this chair, I'm glued to it, and he's talking and I'm listening and he's starting to make sense. 

My mom was a whore. She was a whore and she lied and she left me. She said she was gonna come back, but she never did. I waited for her, and she never came. But you came, Ev, you came and sat down beside me, and you looked at me and you smiled. It was sunny and perfect and you were perfect, but now you're wearing that dress and everyone's looking at you, and he's touching you and you're letting him, and he's talking and I'm listening and I think I hate you now, Ev. 

Because if you're not perfect, then you're just like her. And I hate her, so now I have to hate you, too. 

And I'm moving now. I can feel myself moving. I'm walking and I'm bumping into people and some kid is shouting, "Dude, watch where you're going!" And I grab him and I say, "Get outta my fucking way!" And I wanna hit him, but I don't, and he slips through my fingers, and I let him go, and I keep walking. I'm leaving the cafeteria, and you're looking at me now, and you're concerned, but you don't stop me, and now I'm gone. I'm walking through the hallway, I'm whipping past all the lockers, and I can sense Belch and Vic following me. They're following me like faithful dogs because they don't know what else to do. They think I'm spiraling and they're right and I don't give a shit.

I'm opening my locker now, and I'm tearing through it. Belch is talking to me, trying to calm me down, but I'm ignoring him. I'm snatching papers by the handful, grabbing books and notebooks and folders, and I'm throwing them all straight into the trash. 

Look at all this homework, Ev... I did all this fucking homework for nothing. I was up until three in the morning, reading and writing and pacing and struggling, wanting to rip my hair out because none of it made any damn sense. I probably got half the questions wrong, but I did them, Ev, I tried, because you said it was sooooo important. You said I needed to make an effort, so I did. I was gonna drop out and get a job somewhere, finally get outta this god-forsaken town, but I didn't, Ev, I stayed, because you wanted me back so damn bad. Because I was dumb enough to believe what you wrote on those four single-spaced pages. I thought it meant something, but it didn't, did it? It was all just talk. Because that's what you Toziers do, don't you? You talk and talk and talk, AND IT'S ALL BULLSHIT! 

And I kick the trash can, and everything spews out, spilling across the floor like a tidal wave. Those are my thoughts, Ev, scattered all over the floor like garbage. And now my head is empty, and I'm laughing, Ev, because I'm finally free, and at last I hear myself say, 

"You know what? Fuck this, let's get outta here."

Henry turned and saw Belch and Vic exchange a secret glance. A warning signal. Then Belch stepped forward, over the trash, and said in a calm, placating voice, "Okay, where do you wanna go, Henry?"

"I dunno," Henry said. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"Okay, Henry," Belch said, but his voice was unsteady. It was wavering, questioning Henry's sanity. "Umm, look, I think you need to take a minute and calm down. Just breathe for a second, okay? Because I don't think you're thinking clearly right now. Everything's fine, man. Nothing's happening. Nothing's changing. Patrick's just being an asshole, like always."

"Fuck Patrick," Henry spat. "He's done. He's out."

"And that's fine," said Belch. "Fuck Patrick. We don't even like him, right, Vic?"

Vic was keeping his distance and silently observing Henry's every move. "Yeah, I never liked him."

"See? We all agree. Fuck Patrick. He's out, he's gone, he doesn't even matter anymore. So now all you gotta do is talk to Evelyn. Right, Henry? Just talk to Evelyn, and I'm sure she'll explain everything. You know, I bet this is all just one big misunderstanding."

Henry let out a bone-dry laugh that made Vic and Belch uneasy. "Really? Is that what you think I should do?" Then his whole face lit up like he was having an epiphany. He strolled up to Belch, looked him dead in the eye, and said very slowly, "How 'bout I put my fist through your mouth and out the back of your skull? Huh, Belch? How does that sound to you?"

It sounded absurd and, frankly, impossible, but Belch didn't doubt Henry's conviction for a second.

"Okay, Henry," Belch said with an obedient nod. "We'll go. Let's go. Wherever you want."

Henry smiled—a bright, terrifying smile. Then he lightly smacked the side of Belch's face, gave his cheek a little patronizing pat. "That's better. That's real good. Come on, guys, let's get outta here."

Vic shook his head as soon as the bell started ringing. "I can't skip, man. I got a quiz next period."

Henry whipped around and screamed, "FUCK YOUR QUIZ, VIC!"

"I'd rather not," Vic replied in a small voice. "It's gonna be a bitch to make up."

"VIC!"

"Yeah, I hear you." Vic threw his head back and groaned the mother of all groans. This is getting really old, he thought, and not for the first time.

Vic tossed his notebook into his locker and slammed it shut, then followed Henry and Belch toward the exit.

So now here they were, all three of them, sitting in Belch's car on hamburger day of all days.

By now, Belch Huggins should have been in his sixth-period class, smiling contently with his stomach full, while the teacher droned on and on... and eventually lulled him to sleep. Instead, Belch was stuck behind the wheel, wide awake and rethinking all his life choices while the dice dangling from the ignition key went clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Victor Criss was in the back seat with his head thrown against the headrest, wanting to be there less and less, thinking of the quiz he would have to make up tomorrow, assuming the teacher let him make it up at all. As for Henry Bowers, well, he was long gone, staring at the school with a vacant expression. He was sitting there with the door open and one foot hanging out of the car. Stuck. Frozen. Belch said his name three times, and Henry didn't answer him once. Belch figured he was waiting for something—or someone, to be exact—but Belch kept that thought to himself. He just stared at the clock on his dashboard and waited.

Finally, at exactly twelve twenty-nine, Evelyn Tozier burst through the double doors in that blindly bright yellow dress and came running down the stairs. Henry pulled his foot in and closed the passenger door.

Here we go, Belch thought, and made himself comfortable.

"What are you guys doing?" Evelyn hollered at them with all the fury of an overworked schoolteacher. "Are you kidding me right now? Are you serious? I worked so hard to get you back in school, Henry. I stuck my neck out for you. Now you're back for less than a day and you're already skipping class? What the fuck!"

"Just go," Henry said. His first words in five minutes.

"Oh, now you wanna go?" said Belch. God, it's like we're back in elementary school. He put his hand on the gearshift, then brought it back to rest on the steering wheel. "Well, now she's blocking the car."

"Just drive," Henry said.

"And what? Run her over?"

Now Evelyn was glaring at them through the windshield like a killer in a horror movie, the wind ravaging her hair and making her appear crazed. "Go back to class, Henry," she kept saying through the glass. "I'm not gonna let you skip class on your first day back."

Henry sank into his seat and started sulking like a child. "Get out of the way, Evelyn."

"No, I'm not going."

"Get out of the way or I'll—Evelyn, get off the car. Get off the car right now."

"No, I'm not moving."

"Evelyn, get off the car!"

"Go back to class, Henry."

"Get off the car!"

"Go back to class, and I'll get off the car. It's not even your car, anyway. It's Reggie's, and you don't mind me being on the car, do you, Reggie?"

"Evelyn!"

Belch leaned over the dashboard, flashed Evelyn a friendly smile. "No, I don't mind at all, but please be careful not to scratch the paint, okay?"

She returned his smile. "Oh, don't worry, Reggie, I'll be careful."

"That's all I ask."

Belch sat back, turned, and met Henry's sneering face.

"That's all you ask?" Henry said. "Ask her to get off the damn car!"

"Why? It's not like she's gonna move."

With this in mind, Belch pulled the key out of the ignition and leaned all the way back in his seat. Henry saw this and gave his head a furious shake. His face was as red as a tomato.

"What the fuck, Belch? Start the car!"

"No, please don't start the car, Reggie."

"I said, start the car, Belch!"

"Reggie, do not start the car!"

"Stop calling him that!"

"That's his name, Henry! What else am I supposed to call him?"

In the back seat, Vic was using his thumbs to rub circles into his aching temples. "I could've been taking my quiz right now..."

"NOBODY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOUR DAMN QUIZ, VIC!"

"I care," Vic muttered. Then: "You know what, fuck this, I'm outta here. Belch, let me out."

"Sure thing, man."

Belch stepped out and let Vic climb over his seat and out the driver-side door. Henry's jaw dropped, hanging wide with disbelief.

He yelled, "What the fuck are you doing, Vic?"

And Vic just threw his hands up, tired and defeated... but mostly tired. "Come on, this is ridiculous, man. The period's gonna be over before we even leave the parking lot."

Vic turned and left, and soon after Belch was leaving, too.

Evelyn made a shooing motion with her hands, a triumphant grin on her face. "That's right, boys, go back to class. Everyone, go back to class. Go learn something." 

And when they were gone, her smile wilted and shriveled up into a helpless and hopeless frown. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the biggest she could.

Inside the car, Henry Bowers was doing the same. Then he cursed under his breath and got out of the car, gave it a hard slam.

Evelyn flinched as he drew near, thinking for a second that he might scream at her, but what he did was far worse.

Henry looked right at her with nothing but hate in his eyes and said, "You're dressed like a whore." 

Evelyn spent the rest of the day wondering what she did wrong. 

________________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

[heshoes]

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 1 (Word Count 4k)

Harry

Water droplets cascaded down my neck before I grabbed a towel to throw over my head. That shower was definitely needed. My muscles would be sore from my workout this morning, but I enjoy the ache. As I headed towards my room to put on clothes I noticed that my roommates door was still closed and for Michelle this can only mean one thing.

I pulled up my trousers and pulled my t-shirt over my head before layering it with a plaid button up. If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands. I walked halfway down the hall and then stopped to pick up the beanie that I let Michelle borrow last night. The hat was carelessly tossed on the floor along with a t-shirt of hers and a pink-ish orange lace bra. This was just one of the many downsides of living with a woman. Even if she is your best mate, finding the occasional bras and panties mixed into your clothes on laundry day can put a damper on your chances of trying and talk to a girl if you don’t have a washer and drier in house, and lets not even mention those four to five days out of the month when a tampon box is left on the bathroom sink and you have to explain that to a date. Not thinking, I picked all of the items up before I dropped the shirt and bra on the ground, feeling somewhat awkward touching something that was so close in contact with Michelle's...intimate bits.

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I  swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a  red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more. 

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know.  I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve." 

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I  laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.

"Hey, do you think I could borrow a pen? I seemed to have dropped mine."

[sunnysunoo]

Love Letters ; Sim Jake

Pairing: Jake X Reader

warnings: explicit language and cursing

word count: 3k words

genre: friends to lovers au! fluff with tiny pieces of crack lmao

Jake was always known for being this perfect guy in school. I mean, they're not wrong. They always described him as if he's this walking piece of art in the hallways. People would stop to just stare at him. You'd stare at him all day too, but you set priorities first: writing him love letters.

You're no Lara Jean, but I guess you can say that she's what inspired you to write Jake letters. Who needs Peter Kavinsky when Jake Shim exists anyways?

note: Not me completely disappearing off of tumblr for like months and then showing up again suddenly lol. I got really busy the past few months since I was completing requirements for school, and I really didn't have the motivation to do anything at the time so I took so time off to take care of myself first so I hope you understand :) But now since it's summer break, I am given at least 2 more months until I go back to school in August :)) Here's the long-awaited Jake imagine that I completely forgot about lmao hope you enjoy <3

P.S I finished writing this at 1:26 am so please excuse the really shitty plot and grammar ill rewrite it once i wake up

tag list: @cha-raena ( sorry for the rlly late post bestie )

Dear Jake, First of all, I will never call you Jaeyun because calling you by your English name makes me feel like I'm your friend. Calling you by your Korean name makes us feel like we're cold strangers to one another and I don't want that. I want us to be something more than that, but it's hard when you don't even know who I am. I'm surprised how you don't grow tired of me just dropping letters right into your locker every time you open it, and that's one of the things I love about you. You don't just throw away people's efforts and you treasure them with care. It makes my heart beat so fast as if I ran miles away from here.

We're already one year left until we graduate high school, and I don't want to end my high school years without you realizing my feelings for you. I know for sure that you would never reciprocate the feelings that I have towards you, so I want to treat this as closure in case we do forget about each other in the future. Yours truly,

Moon

__

"How is this person not over you? That's like the tenth one this month," Jay said, looking over Jake as he reads the letter from his secret admirer. Jake has always been receiving these letters from the same person everyday for the past four months. He's thankful for the letters because they definitely make his day better, knowing that there's someone out there who loves him as who he is regardless of looks. He's not gonna lie that these little notes and letters make his heart race too. "Do you have any plans with finding the person behind the letters?" Jay asked as he watches his best friend trying to hide the small smile that's been growing. No one really knows who this mysterious person is and why they decided to name themselves the moon, but we don't judge anyone in here. If they want to be the moon in their next life, then so be it. "I really want to find the person who's making these letters," Jake shoved the letter in his backpack, trying to not wrinkle it. "But I don't know where to start." "Who's finding who?" A voice popped suddenly beside the presence of the two boys. You leaned beside the locker beside Jake's, watching him as he grabs his books from his locker. "Did Moon drop your daily letter today again?" "They did as usual," Jake wasn't even surprised. He would expect the letters every time he enters the school in the morning. He would open his locker to see the usual small letter placed inside his locker. He usually arrives at seven or earlier, but he's surprised that he could never even catch a glance of this anonymous sender around the campus. "Should I go to school at five in the morning?" "Five in the morning? Isn't that a bit too early?" You questioned, followed by a shaky breath. "The school doesn't even open until six." "I could just walk to that nearby convenience store I always pass by to grab a coffee." He argues, closing his locker shut before walking towards his classroom.

You and Jay followed beside him, and you sneered under your breath, "You don't even wake up to your alarm clock."

"Why don't you even want me to go early anyway?" He glances as you try to give him an answer. But before you could say something, Jay replies first.

"You’re probably hiding something." He said. You rolled your eyes and narrowed your eyes at him. "You are so weird." You grunted, before walking ahead of them. You feel panicked because you were scared that you made yourself obvious to them.

__

You were inside your classroom sitting on your desk. There were only fifteen minutes left before lunch, but you had eaten your packed meal before instead of going to your school cafeteria. You were fidgeting in your place, conflicted about Jake finding his secret admirer, not knowing that it was you who's been sending him letters the past few months. You're not scared of him finding out that the letters were from you; that was the entire reason why you wrote him letters in the first place. You're scared of how he was gonna confront you about it. Would he like you back? Would he hate you? Would he avoid you?

Your mind was full of scenarios but you were suddenly brought back to reality when a hand planted itself on your desk. You look up and saw Jay standing in front of you, eating sushi with his other hand. His face kinda looks like he knows something, and it's freaking you out a bit.

"What?" You asked, suddenly flustered over how his eyes stared right into you. He took the seat in front of your desk and flipped it so it was facing you. He sat down and blurted the phrase that you were dreading to hear from anyone.

"So, you like Jake?"

You suddenly feel like punching him in the face with his sushi.

"What??" Your body felt like, and you were left a nervous mess. Your heart like it was going to pump right out of your chest any minute, and your hands started to sweat.

Jay's mouth formed into a smirk. He caught you. "Jake may be a bit oblivious, but I can totally see right through you."

“Haha...no you don’t,” You tried to deny, but it was all useless when his expression looked unconvinced.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you all red? You look like a bursting tomato.”

“You don’t know that," You leaned further into your seat, playing with the strings of your hoodie.

“C’mon Y/N, you’re not even trying. Just give up and admit it,” Jay was trying to help you confess your feelings for Jake. Frankly, he knew it was you sending him letters this whole time—how can Jake not see it?

With a heavy sigh, you slumped and laid your head on your desk, embarrassed. “Fine. I like him, okay? Are you happy now?”

The smirk on his face grew wider, feeling proud of himself. You are not dealing with his annoying crap this early in the morning. He grinned and munched on his half-eaten sushi. “I knew it.”

“Congratulations,” It was muffled because you hid your red face away from him. All that was on your mind now was how you could book yourself a flight all the way across the world.

“But seriously, since when did you have a crush on him?” You raised your head to face him, giving him a look that could kill, except Jay finds it entertaining rather than intimidating.

“I started having a crush on him when we were in fifth grade. It was at a friend's birthday party, and he saw me being all quiet and lonely. Honestly, I forgot who’s birthday that was.” You told him the very first time you had discovered feelings.

“He saw how sad I looked so he accompanied me the whole time. He was even trying to feel more included in the games and stuff.” You felt a smile ghosting on your lips as you can still vividly remember how you felt your heart tug the first time. “It was kinda like I fell in love at first sight.”

Jay faked a gag, so you lightly punched him in the shoulder. He may be a bit of an asshole, but he’s one the most caring and kind people you’ve ever met. It honestly felt good spilling out your feelings about Jake to him.

Speaking of, Jake was watching you two play around and laugh at Jay's little jokes from outside, and he felt something burning from inside him. Was it that he felt jealous of you and Jay?

No, he can’t be...right?

Maybe it was because of how he felt separated from you and Jay because of him being a separate class.

Yeah, maybe it's because of that.

__

Dear Jake,

I just had the most bizarre day today, and I felt like telling you about it.

It was chemistry period, and we had to be partnered with someone for a lab project. I ended up getting paired with Yeojin. We kinda created this unexpected friendship, which I love. We would crack jokes at each other, tell funny stories, it was so fun to be with her that we had completely forgotten about our project. So now, we both got a detention slip for making an accidental explosion.

How about you? How was your day? I hope it was just as fun as mine. If you feel like the day just wasn't as happy or you're feeling down, just now that it's okay to feel that way because days like these just lasts for 24 hours. It will be all over before you know it and you'll be greeted by another day. Maybe it will be different, and you would be all happy again just like how my day went. Maybe being with you would be my happiest day yet, and I couldn't wait for that day to come. See you soon :)

Love,

Moon

__

"Yeojin!" Jake called, seeing her walk down the opposite way. "Hey, mind if I ask you something?"

"Hey Jake," She greeted him with a smile. "Sure, go ahead."

"Could you perhaps give me any information about your partner in Chemistry?" He had hopes of getting any kind of description about his mysterious sender, but he was instead given a sad frown on Yeojin's face.

"Sorry Jake, but that person told me not to tell you about their information." She gave an apologetic smile. "I wish you all the best in finding them!"

Jake muttered a small "okay," and sighed before walking away, feeling defeated.

Yeojin knew that he was gonna ask about Moon the moment he called her from across the hall. She couldn't wait to tell you about this.

__

"Hey Y/N," A voice said from behind. You turned around to see Jake with his backup hung on his shoulder. He brought his hand up and raked his hair, and you felt your face grow red. Jake is like a gift from the gods. How can someone look so ethereal even if they're just standing there? You could stare at him all day. You couldn't even understand a thing he said until he started waving his hands in front of you.

"Hello?" You blinked multiple times as you were brought back out to reality. You saw Jake's face grow into concern. "Are you okay? spaced out."

"O-oh..No, I'm completely fine." You reassured him, feeling embarrassed. "What were you saying again?"

"I was asking you if you wanted to go to school with me early tomorrow."

Well, shit.

Your eyes started to go wide, and your hands started to go clammy.

"Tomorrow?" You repeated, voice trembling.

'Well, yeah." He pouted his lips, and you felt like melting into a small puddle in your place. Your heart started to pound heavily.

Oh my fucking god, he is so adorable.

"Okay, sure I can go with you tomorrow," You weakly smiled at him, slightly tense.

How we're you going to give him the letter now?

__

"Good Morning," Jake said as he watches you close the gates of your house. It was past five in the morning, and you were a mess.

"Morning," You replied back before running your fingers through your hair, getting rid of any flyaways.

As you started walking your way to the bus stop, Jake kept on glancing towards you from time to time. He knew you were pretty, but since when did you become really beautiful in his eyes?

The walk was pretty quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. For him, mostly.

Meanwhile, you couldn't stop freaking out. You had written a letter the night before, but you don't know how you were going to slip it into his locker without him taking notice. If he saw you, he would know.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've been like this since yesterday," Jake blurted. You looked at him before heaving a sigh.

"It's nothing," You mouthed, suddenly feeling anxious and gloomy.

"Something on your mind?"

"Something like that." It was hopeless. I guess he would have to miss this letter today. It was the first time you skipped a day, and you're feeling guilty that you would have to see Jake's face sadden that he wouldn't receive it today.

As you two stop at the bus stop, Jake looked slightly panicked as he was rummaging through the pockets of his blazer before looking through his bag. "Hey, do you have an extra pen? I left mine at home and I have a quiz today."

You snickered, "Out of all the days, Sim Jake. The same day you have a quiz is the same day you forget your pen."

"Very funny." He scoffed.

As you unzipped your bag to grab your pencil case, a folded piece of paper fell out without you realizing it. When Jake went to pick it up, he notices that it was folded the same way as the letters in his locker. It looked so identical.

Once you already got your pencil case out, you were about to hand it to him when you saw what he was holding that made your body freeze with your hand holding the case in the air.

"Why were one of my letters inside your bag?" He glanced at you, waiting for you to reply.

If you were freaking out before, this is a whole other thing. The thing that you were fearing the most is happening right before you.

"Maybe it fell into my bag yesterday..." You stammered, making up an excuse to look like it was an accident. You were tightly holding onto your pencil case, chanting many curse words in your head as you watch Jake unfold the letter.

"I don't think I've received this one yet," He said before he opened the letter and read it.

You watch as his expression formed into confusion as he reads through the paper. It only took a few moments before something in him clicked that it was you sending him the letters.

"Y/N," He began, and you started quivering in fear.

You should've known this would happen, but you didn't expect it to happen this sooner. In fact, you believed that this wouldn't happen at all. But it did.

"Let me explain," You eventually gave up and accepted fate and watch as your identity as "Moon" be revealed to your crush. You're now exposed so you didn't have any other choice but to explain everything. "Yes, I am Moon. I was the one writing you the letters that you've been getting in your locker."

Jake's face was unreadable. He looked bewildered and puzzled. He was trying to comprehend what was happening right now. All this time, it was you?

"I started crushing on you when we attended that birthday party before. I didn't want to confess my feelings for you because I was scared that you were going to harshly reject me, so I started writing down letters as a way to tell you how I feel about you without making you feel awkward around me." You continued, eyes suddenly taking an interest in your shoes. They were brand new too.

Jake was silent, and you felt your heart crack into pieces. You were mad at yourself for being so careless about it that he ended up finding out about you as his secret admirer. You wanted nothing else but to run back home, lock yourself in your room and cry with your sad playlist on loop.

You were expecting a harsh rejection coming from him, but what surprised was how he took dangerous steps towards you, minimizing the gap between you two. He placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"I don't plan on rejecting you Y/N," You stare into his eyes as it reflects the sunlight of the early morning. "I'm actually happy that it was you."

You look at him, puzzled. He lowly chuckles under his breath before leaning over to place his lips against yours. It was a light, quick kiss, but it brought you feeling ecstatic. You've dreamed of this moment before, and now that it happened, you thanked your clumsiness.

As he pulled away, you were sure your face was a red mess.

"Thank you," His smile was as bright as the stars in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Thank you for making me like I'm special to someone."

You felt flustered over his words. You were scared that he could hear the sound of your heart pounding loudly. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild, and you felt like this was all a dream.

"So, what am I to you now?" You broke into a smile as he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

Jake acted as if he was thinking, "Hm..maybe my best friend still?"

He bursts into a fit of giggles as he sees your smile slowly disappear, replacing it with a look of disbelief. You removed your hand from his and walked at a faster pace away from him.

He ran to match your pace beside you before holding your hand again, "I'm sorry, I won't ever do that again. Is my girl mad at me?"

"Oh my god, it's only five-fifty, Jake." You too broke into laughter over his cheesiness, but your heart fluttered over the thought of Jake calling you his.

__

HERE’S A LITTLE BONUS! since I've made you guys wait for 4 months :(

"What the fuck?" Was the first thing You heard from Jay as you and Jake entered the classroom. All of your classmates were staring at your and his hands intertwined together.

Jay stood in front of you two, crossing his arms together. "Can one of you explain when this happened?" he motioned towards your linking hands. You and Jake smiled at each other before walking away, leaving Jay in a fit of joy, and confusion.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Late Nights, Early Mornings.

Summary: Long distant relationships are difficult, made worse when it's between two men in different colleges. But Freed and Laxus will make it worse, and if secret phone calls late in the night are what's needed then that's what they'll do.

Notes: This was day three for my admissions to Fraxus Week. It's hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus, who you should check out for more Fraxus content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Four Ways to See the Dawn

Year: 1982

Location: Washington DC, USA

"Hey."

"Hey."

Laxus murmured the word, quietly fiddling with the cord to the phone as he glanced at the sleeping man in the other bed. The stranger seemed to be sleeping soundly, snoring without a care in the world, and so Laxus felt pretty confident that he had privacy. So long as he didn't make too much noise, he could speak without being overheard.

Good, this was going to work.

It wasn't ideal. It was nearing two AM, and Laxus had found himself fighting sleep as he'd waited for his roommate to pass out. The guy was apparently something of a party animal, and he was fully taking advantage of the many frat parties, drinking nights and mixers that filled the first weeks of college. Laxus had avoided them all – they were all too loud and rowdy for him – but he understood the appeal. He couldn't be angry that the man was so unpredictable; Bickslow would hardly know that he was stopping Laxus from his phone call with Freed, after all.

Freed didn't have the same problem. His college, which was half way across the country, didn't have roommates to worry about. He'd promised that he'd be waiting by the phone for him whenever he was ready to call, and he'd answered the moment Laxus had rung.

"You sound tired," Laxus teased. "Didn't wake ya, did I?"

"No, but it was close," Freed chuckled, and the sound was incredible. "I missed hearing your voice."

"Me too."

They'd promised themselves that, for the first two weeks, they wouldn't talk. College was a big thing, and they couldn't fuck it up, so decided they need to fully submerge themselves in college culture instead of becoming shut-ins who only spoke to one another. It was the right thing to do, they both knew it, but Laxus had been missing Freed's presence every day, and no amount of taster classes, tours around campus, and bottles of tequila would remove that.

Freed had always been there. They'd grown up on the same street, played on the same sports teams, and attended the same house parties. Jokes had been made that they were attached at the hip, and that they might as well be inseparable with how much time they spent together.

Laxus had to smirk at those jokes. If only they knew.

It had happened quite randomly, really. Laxus had broken his leg in the last year of high school, and he'd had to sit out on the final game in their baseball tournament. Freed had ended up hitting the home run that won their team the game, and had been rightly commended. Laxus had stumbled into the locker room on his crutches when everyone was left so he could congratulate the man in private. Freed had clearly noticed that Laxus was more melancholy that joyful, and forced Laxus to admit it felt shitty to miss the final game of his high-school career, even if they did win.

Freed had waited for a moment, thinking of what to say. Then, with his thigh resting against Laxus' non-broken leg, he quietly whispered 'I won it for you, you know. Not for the team.' The words were packed with years' worth of friendship and passion, and they were forever imprinted on Laxus' mind.

He'd kissed the man without thinking. Freed had kissed him back.

What followed was a summer of making out, going to the romantic spots around Magnolia under the pretence they were still just friends, and, on the last night before they left for college, they'd slept together for the first time. It had all been incredible.

But the summer had to end, and they could hardly keep going as they had. Magnolia was small, and their friendship was known well enough there for nobody to question how much time they were spending together. Now they lived in different states, a long and expensive train ride away from each other. The making out and the dates and the sex would have to stop, because it didn't make senses for it to continue. All they had left was quiet phone calls late at night where nobody could overhear them talking.

It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.

"You, erm, you done many classes yet?" Laxus asked, cringing at the awful question.

"No, they start on Monday," Freed answered, and shifted slightly. Laxus idly wondered if he were in his bed or not. Freed looked good in bed, curled up in a dressing gown with a book. If Laxus was there, he'd content himself by running his hand through his hair. "You?"

"A few taster things, just tryin' to find out what I wanna major in, y'know," Laxus all but scuffed his feet. He hadn't expected this to be this awkward. "Guess you don't have that problem."

"No," Freed agreed. He was training to by a surgeon, Laxus was at college mainly because he didn't know what else to do with his life. "How's your roommate?"

"He's good. A little weird but seems harmless," Laxus glanced at the sleeping man, who was stretched over his bed and drooling. "Seems to be out at parties most nights, so maybe I'll be able to call ya earlier in the night. Not force ya to stay up so late."

"It's worth it," Freed said without missing a beat. "I've missed you, Laxus."

"I missed you too," Laxus whispered.

Neither man spoke for a moment, and Laxus wished he knew what to say. He wished he had a ridiculous story of his fun, interesting college life that he could use to break that layer of awkwardness and entertain Freed with. But he'd done nothing; college was much less interesting than he had been led to believe. He couldn't think of a thing to say, and the electric humming of the phone was getting on his nerves.

Freed must have felt the same way, as Laxus could hear him fidgeting across the phone. Laxus wished he could just pull the man into his arms, as he often had in their quiet nights alone over the summer. But he couldn't. For months, he couldn't.

"It's gonna get easier, ain't it?" Laxus asked. "Doin' this?"

"It will," Freed said, and he sounded sure. "It'll take some time, but it will."

"Fuckin' better," Laxus mumbled more to himself than to Freed.

"It will," Freed repeated. "And thanksgiving is only a few months away, and we'll be able to see each other then."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded, trying to feel encouraged. "You still doing thanksgiving with me and Gramps?"

"If he'll still have me."

"He will," Laxus replied immediately, and then forced a smile onto his face. "And I promise it'll be more successful than last year."

"More successful? Is that possible?" Freed asked sarcastically, and Laxus chuckled.

"You saying that me and Gramps getting into a screaming match, the turkey ending up in the cat's litter tray, the two of us getting covered in cranberry sauce, and the neighbours making a noise complaint wasn't successful?" Laxus scoffed, smiling as he remembered the night the previous year.

He also remembered how, just before Freed drove back to his own home, he'd confessed that it was one of the most enjoyable thanksgiving's he'd had.

"You seem to not realise that, with long hair, pureed cranberries really have a lot of space to hide in," Freed chuckled. "A problem you don't seem to face."

"I'll aim for your face this year then," Laxus grinned.

"That's all I ask," Freed was grinning too, Laxus could hear it in his voice.

The situation wasn't immediately remedied, but they found themselves talking about the ridiculous shared moments they'd endured in Magnolia, and Laxus felt the awkwardness seeping away minute by minute. It was nowhere near as good as driving to the mountains, lying on his car's roof with Freed curled against him, but damn if it wasn't the best couple of hours he'd spent since arriving in Washington.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember waking up sometime later in the morning. The phone was clutched against his chest, the line dead, and the sunlight was fluttering under the curtains. He smiled privately, and closed his eyes, phone in hand.

---

"Freed, you okay? It's four in the mornin'?

"Hey. You're awake. Hi."

Laxus forced his eyes open, groggy and sleep deprived. He blinked a few times, sitting up. The ringing of the phone he'd just answered seemed to still be blaring in his mind, and the overly loud, inelegant words that his boyfriend had just near yelled into his ears made Laxus wince. It was nearly four thirty in the morning. Why the hell was Freed awake?

"Course I'm awake, phone's fucking loud," He complained, sitting up and leaning against the wall. "Why're you awake?"

"Ever and Mirajane," Freed said, as if that answered anything. Laxus waited a moment before he realised that was all Freed felt he needed to say.

"What about them?"

"I told them that it was my birthday tomorrow – or, well, it's today now, isn't it. But it was tomorrow when I told them. Well, technically it was yesterday when I told them, but in the context of me telling them about my birthday, my birthday was tomorrow, which is now today," Freed spewed the mess of words out, and Laxus could hear him frowning. "They said I needed to go out drinking. They wanted to take me out for my first legal drink."

"Yer turning nineteen, not twenty-one," Laxus deadpanned, though smirked.

"Oh yes, so I am," Freed was frowning. "I broke the law many times tonight then."

"Sounds like it," Laxus chuckled. "You only just gettin' in? It's pretty late. Or early, I guess."

"No, we left the club at about one. We've been in the dorms for a few hours, Cana knows someone who can get us beer cheap, so we kept going. Someone made me brownies, but I wasn't allowed to eat them because apparently they had pot in them, so Mirajane slapped the guy and said she'd report him to campus security because we only found out when Jet and Droy started talking about the walls having a face," Freed laughed heartily, and Laxus smiled, imagining the man's expression as he did so. "Why do people always put weed into brownies? It's so overdone. Why do you never hear of a pot carrot cake or banana loaf?"

"Brownies are easy to make, I guess," Laxus grinned.

This was uncharted territory for Laxus. Freed wasn't exactly a total rule follower, but his parents were strict and so alcohol was something he'd never risked. Laxus had always wondered what a drunk Freed would be like. Apparently, he rambled and was happy. It was a nice side of him to hear.

"You think brownies are harder than a banana cake? You know nothing about baking," Freed laughed at him, and Laxus smirked. "Do I have time to bake a pot filled gateau, do you think? It might make mother's book club interesting at last."

"Don't spike your ma with drugs Freed," Laxus instructed, and Freed laughed.

"Yes, it sounds bad put like that," Freed agreed. He was quiet for a moment, and Laxus heard the sound of something hitting the floor. Perhaps one of his boots, given the clunk. Laxus had become something of an expert at figuring out what Freed was doing by the sounds he made. "It'd serve them right. Rather see you than them."

"Come on Freed," Laxus sighed. "They're your parents, they wanna see you."

"Well they didn't on parents' weekend, or at thanksgiving, so why now?" Freed huffed, fabric shifting now. He was probably getting into bed. "They're taking me to dinner, and I saw the place. It's got five stars, Laxus. That means it'll be stifled and pretentious. They won't know what to say to me, so we'll just eat in silence and we'll all want it to end because we know we don't have anything in common and they're only coming because it'll look bad if they don't," Laxus wished he could deny the claim, but he knew Freed's parents and that was probably true. "Would've rather gotten the train to Washington so I could see you."

"Shouldn't I be coming to yours?" Laxus asked, trying to change the subject to something less maudlin. "It's your birthday."

"You saw my campus when you drove us home," Freed dismissed, and Laxus supposed he had. They'd driven back to Magnolia together for some time alone, as Laxus passed Freed's college on the drive back. "It's my turn to see your place. Your classrooms, your student lounge," He paused, and was clearly smirking when he spoke again. "Your bed."

"My bed, huh?" Laxus smirked. "What were you gonna-"

Laxus would have continued, but an airborne pillow slammed into his face. It took his sleep-lagged brain a moment to understand what had happened, and he slowly looked towards his glaring, very much awake roommate. He probably should have realised that the phone would have woken them both up, not just Laxus.

They looked at each other for a moment, Bickslow unblinking. Laxus wanted to speak, but no words came, and Bickslow was the one to fill the silence.

"Look, you know I'm cool with you two being together. Probably been to more of the marches than either of you two, so be as gay as you wanna be," Bickslow's voice was croaky and hoarse. "But don't phone fuck when I'm in the room. It's just bad manners."

"We weren't gonna-" Laxus cut himself off. He couldn't be sure of his words, so instead he said a guilty, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Bickslow shrugged. "Just give me my pillow back and we'll call it even."

Laxus did as he was told, and Bickslow took it, hooked it around his head so it covered his ears, and turned to lie facing the wall. It was as close to privacy they could get in the small room without either of them leaving, and Laxus appreciated the action. When he spoke again, his voice was more of a gentle whisper.

"You should probably get to sleep," He instructed, and grinned when he heard a yawn overpowering his words. "Make sure you drink water before you crash, okay? And don't bother with yer classes, you'll either still be drunk or too hungover to take anything in."

"Yes, I suppose I will be," Freed agreed. "I'll call you once my parents leave."

"Okay," Laxus nodded. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," Freed said softly. "Goodnight. Love you."

"Love you too."

Laxus hung up the phone, curled himself back under his covers and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to sleep, he heard the grinning words of his roommate as he said, 'you two are so damn cute.' Laxus' retort of 'fuck you' was only slightly less threatening because of the smile he couldn't shake, and the yawn he couldn't hold back.

---

"Don't talk, I need to say something."

"Laxus? What's wrong?"

Laxus was jittery. He'd been jittery all day. He'd had nervous energy throughout the night, and it kept waking him up and he did whatever he could to get to sleep but nothing had worked, and he'd found himself stressed, awake and jittery. He couldn't stop moving. Couldn't stop bouncing his leg or taping his fingers or flexing his arms because he needed to do something with this energy, but he didn't know what.

At six AM, after a night of awful, interrupted sleep, he'd decided enough was enough. He'd changed into running gear, pulled out his Walkman and stormed from his dorm room. He'd ran for however long, and yet the jitteriness didn't go. If anything, it made things worse.

Calling Freed had been a last resort.

He hadn't returned to campus yet, instead finding a phone booth to climb into. It had started to rain as he'd run, and he was dripping wet as he rang Freed's number. The cold and the wet were the last things on his mind. He just needed to get on the call with Freed, just needed to hear that thing's would be okay and that he was making a big deal out of nothing. Freed was a smart guy, and he wouldn't bullshit Laxus about important things. No; Freed would make things okay.

"Dad's court case was moved forward," Laxus spluttered before he could stop himself.

It was supposed to be in the autumn. It was supposed to be months away. That would give Laxus time to prepare himself, to know what he was going to say. To get out of his own head so that he could focus on taking the bastard to jail. It was not supposed to be next damn week!

Laxus was a character witness. In the trial itself, he wasn't all that important, but he knew that the media would love to know what he thought about his father. Ivan was a well-known businessman, and his scandal had been national news. He'd made many enemies over his years working, and people were relishing in his downfall. Everyone wanted to hear how not only was Ivan a bad businessman, but a bad father too. Laxus wasn't ready for the attention, he wasn't ready for anything.

Freed took a moment to think before he replied.

"Where are you?" He asked. "Are you in your dorm? I can hear the rain."

"Erm, no," Laxus shook his head, looking around. "I'm near a park. Not sure where."

"Right," Freed murmured. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need," Laxus faltered.

He needed to be told that everything was okay. That the court case would just be a single day in his life, and he could get past it and move on. He needed to hear Freed saying that he would get past this, and that his life would return to normal. He needed to see Freed's warm smile, the one he seemed to show only to Laxus. He needed…

"It's nothing. Sorry if I woke you."

"Go back to your dorm, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What?"

"The trains start running early. I can probably be at yours by ten," Freed mused aloud. "I want you to go back and try to sleep. You mentioned that Bickslow has hypnosis tapes he uses to sleep, borrow one."

"Freed, you don't need to come here," Laxus tried to argue, though he didn't want to. "You don't have the money."

"I'll find it," Freed dismissed. "The next train leaves at seven, I believe. I'll be on it."

"Freed."

"Laxus."

Anyone who thought that Laxus was the more stubborn one out of the two of them clearly didn't know Freed.

"You really don't need to come," Laxus whispered, the rain pounding on the small box he sheltered in. "I'll be fine."

"You deserve to be better than fine, Laxus," Freed whispered back.

Silence hung on the line, and at that moment Laxus' world only persisted of the small phonebooth, the rain clattering down on it, and the man on the other end of the phone. He closed his eyes, clenched them shut, and tried to focus on the soft sound of Freed's breathing. Freed was coming. He was coming to make things better. As much as Laxus wanted to protest more, because Freed couldn't afford it and he was going to miss his classes, he just wanted his boyfriend in his arms. He just wanted him there.

"Are you sure?" He asked in a shaking sob.

"Of course," Freed assured him. "Go back to your room and sleep, I'll be there soon."

Laxus did indeed return to his room. He showered off the rainwater, ignored Bickslow's questions as to what happened, and curled up into bed. The white noise tape that Bickslow gave him cleared his mind, and as he assured himself that the clump of blanket he was clinging to would soon be replaced with Freed, he felt everything become just a little more manageable.

---

Sun hit Laxus' face, a gentle warmth that woke him up. He smiled as it happened.

A roadside motel was hardly the most comfortable place to wake up, but Laxus couldn't think of anywhere better to be at that time. No amount of bitter coffee, cramped showers, awful breakfasts, and itchy sheets would stop that. Not when he was waking up with Freed in his arms.

It was Freed's graduation day, the final nail in the coffin of their shared college experiences. Once today had finished, there would be no more dorm rooms, no more phone calls, no more long distance. They just needed to get through the ceremony, and they would be free to spend as much time as they wanted together, without the looming dread of being split apart by the oncoming semester that had previously seemed ever present.

It was over. They were done with college and free to love each other fully and wholly.

They'd found an apartment they could afford. They'd gotten an odd look when their realter had seen two men wanting to live in a cramped, one bedroom apartment, but they didn't care. Three years split apart was over, and they felt they deserved their own place no matter what other people thought about it. They'd more than paid their dues in being apart; they were owed time, and a home, together.

It worked out well. Freed's career meant he needed to continue studying, and he'd found placement in a hospital on a partial scholarship in New York. Laxus, over his time in college, had decided sports journalism was where his passion lay, and he'd been shortlisted for multiple internships in the city. It was all perfect.

Speaking of perfect, Freed made a small mewling sound as he woke.

"Mornin'," Laxus smiled.

"Morning," Freed croaked. He leant up and pressed his lips against Laxus', resting against his body. "You're awake early."

"Excited to see you get yer degree," Laxus shrugged.

"Excited to see me leaving the dorms, more like," Freed chuckled, resting his head against Laxus' chest.

"Can you blame me?" Laxus asked as he ran a hand down Freed's side and kissed his crown.

"Not at all," Freed hummed, contentedly.

Laxus hummed, watching as the new morning sun filled the room. Flashes of a future where this would be his every morning, where Freed would always fall asleep in his arms and wake up beside him. Freed would be his, and he would be Freed's, as they were always supposed to be.

Their love story was quiet, made up of fleeting moments and late-night phone calls. Not the stuff of fairy tales, but, for them, perfect.

[amane-by-together]

Blue Hour || Amane Yugi pt. 3/5

(Amane Yugi x Fem! Reader)

genre: romance, drama and a bit of fantasy

summary: amane and [name] stopped communicating after the pen pal project

“When we lost each other.”

The quarter felt like a shooting star, it was fast in a blink of an eye. As the late night calls stopped and so as the letters.

Amane laid down on his bed, staring at the messages that he and [name] exchanged. Something was weird, it's been a week since they chatted after the pen pal project was over.

Though, he doesn't want to assume that he has been ghosted, yet the situation is the same. Not being able to receive messages from the person Amane likes, it's definitely ghosting.

Amane stayed up all night, not because of star gazing, his honey amber eyes had lost their shine and looked like a zombie with eyebags forming under his eyes.

She disappeared like a ghost.

“You disappeared for an instant, like a faint ghost, you disappeared.”

Amane felt his eyes brimming with tears, he didn't get used to it, it's like being alone again. He never met [name], yet why was he crying for her?

‘This is not supposed to happen right? You're not supposed to fall for your pen pal Amane.’ the voice inside his very own head told him.

‘She's just a pen pal, Amane. Nothing special, you shouldn't cry about her.'

'It's all gone'

‘Don't disappear now, I'm searching for you’

‘It felt like the summer was winter without you.’

‘It's all gone, now. It's over.’

“Now I just missed you...” Amane choked back a sob. His heart was clenching making it difficult to breathe. It felt like he was having an anxiety attack, he wanted to make the feeling disappear.

Now that [name] was gone.

He wanted to disappear as well.

Amane hugged his knees hunched over while lying down. His phone was the only source of light inside the room since the moon isn't there when he needed.

Just like he needed [name].

But the thing is,

She nowhere.

She's gone.

Amane doesn't know what to do.

It's all gone.

“Whoah Yugi, you okay bud?” Yamabuki sat next to the young boy who was staring into space, his eyes were sore from crying and his eyebags are turning darker. “You look wasted man.”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” Amane smiled, even though he was hurting and grieving inside. To everyone it looked like it was the brightest smile, but in reality it was fake.

“No you're not, Amane-kun.” Yashiro interrupted, crossing her arms in front of Amane. She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Truth to be told, Amane does need someone to talk with. He's been bottling up all his tears and suffering because of [name]'s sudden disappearance. His smile faltered, casting down to his desk and nodded gravely. Yashiro grabbed his hand before dragging him out to class.

“I thought you liked [name]?!” Yamabuki yelled out.

Yashiro stopped as the two of them arrived on the rooftop. Amane's shoulders slumped a little bit. “So tell me what's going on?” she asked.

Amane was silent for a while, he felt his eyes watering. Yashiro wrapped an arm around his shoulder, telling him to calm down before he can tell her.

And so he did, starting from the day he learned that [name] was his pen pal, to the epiphany of falling for [name]. Yashiro listened, nodding on every word he says. “Maybe it's a sign that you two should meet?”

“Huh?” Amane rubbed his eyes using his hands. “What do you mean?”

“I've read this somewhere in books!” Yashiro tells Amane with a smile on her face. “I always see this kind of plot, and it is time to apply it to the two of you!”

“The two of you are some sort of soulmates!”

Amane squinted his eyes in disbelief at Yashiro, a typical someone who doesn't believes in soulmates and then they meet in some point for plot purposes. After Yashiro had elaborated the term soulmate, she bids goodbye on Amane because she promised Aoi that they will go on a "date" together.

Amane saw her figure slowly going away from him, but he didn't try to call her back or even yell that he used to like Yashiro. Besides, the young boy already had fallen for [name] and was foolish for trusting his intuition that he wouldn't.

He gave a one last glance at the sky before going back inside to his respective classroom.

“Come on Minamoto-kun, beat Tsukasa-senpai up!” Mitsuba encouraged Kou who was randomly pressing the buttons of his controller whilst his electric blue eyes remain glued on screen. Tsukasa, his opponent, was concentrating really hard to win the video game.

Amane was sitting on his swivel chair, reading [name]'s last letter before the project's end. He was reading it for like...fifteen times already.

“Senpai, you've been staring at that letter for a while...” Kou worriedly pointed out. Tsukasa told him to leave him for a while since he was on a state of singularity.

Amane puts down the letter and sighed heavily. The three of them went over to the older twin to see what was going on. “Not gonna lie that pen pal is creative as hell.” Mitsuba remarked. “Anyways, may I see the letter?”

Amane nodded as he handed the pink haired boy the letter. Mitsuba carefully unfolded the letter and started to read. He grabbed the envelope and started to examine it. Mitsuba notices from the back of the envelope, a slightly peeled off paper. “Hey, Yugi-senpai,” he called. “I think there's a post card stuck on the back of the envelope.”

Kou scrunches his nose. “They probably didn't mean to stick the post card and paint it to camouflage it—”

“Okay who has long nails here?” Amane sighed as he looked at his cutted nails. “I recently cut mine.”

Mitsuba peeled off the postcard from the envelope with ease. He gave the post card faced down to Amane. As Amane receives the card, he flipped it up and saw something that made his stomach drop.

It was the ferris wheel that Amane saw in his dream along with the unfamiliar girl. The question is, what does the ferris wheel have to do with that? “A ferris wheel?” Tsukasa asked.

“This is the ferris wheel I saw in my dream last time—” Amane let out a shaky breath and pointed at the ferris wheel. “There was this girl who appears in my dream two times in different places. One with the carousel and the recent one is this ferris wheel on the post card.”

“Hm? I heard this one from an article that dreaming about a ferris wheel means that you don't want interruptions when you're excited.” Kou explained. “A carousel is a symbol of childish joy, which means that you don't want to forget in the past.”

“Then how about that unfamiliar girl?” Mitsuba asked.

“She could be someone from a past life?”

“If a carousel symbolizes as childhood happiness does that mean that girl was linked to you as a child?”

“I didn't even have a female childhood friend.” Amane crosses his legs. “Besides even if that girl was my childhood friend I wouldn't be able to recognize her.”

“Do you have any information about [name]-san, anyways?” Tsukasa asked.

“She goes to Sanaol Academy, which was far from here.” Amane answered monotonously. “It'll take a subway to go there.”

“How do you know then?” Kou asked.

“I researched her school online, and it was an all girls school.” Amane wetted his lips while brushing his hair back using his fingers. “It's a four hour ride—”

“Four hours?!” Tsukasa, Kou and Mitsuba yelled in disbelief. The three looked at each other and nodded as they knew what they're thinking. Amane raised a perfect brow at them, then looking at the post card on his hand. “That's just—”

“Hold up.” Amane raised his hand to stop them from talking. “The post card that Mitsuba peeled recently, there's something that was written on the back of the envelope.”

There are dots and dashes on the back of the envelope. It is some sort of morse code. Mitsuba thought it was kinda extra since they could've just say the actual letters instead of encoding the message for minutes.

The four of them spent hours to encode the morse, Amane leaned back to his swivel chair as he wiped a sweat from his forehead. “So what does it say?” Tsukasa asked.

Mitsuba and Kou looked over to Amane's shoulder to see the message along with Tsukasa.

“You and me in 5:53 at the ferris wheel...?” Amane says as if it was a question. He turned his head towards the four and gave them a lazy but determined smile. “How would you three like a bonding trip to find [name]?”

“I'm in!” Kou smiled whilst showing both of his canines and pointed at himself. “I'm totally in for some trip!”

“I guess I'll come too.” Mitsuba blew a raspberry and shrugged. “Only because I'm bored as hell.”

“If Amane's going then I'm going too!” Tsukasa wrapped his arms around his older twin causing the latter to elicit an 'oof' from his lips.

“Well that makes us four then. We'll go tomorrow.” Amane tells them.

“Tomorrow?” Mitsuba asked. “What time?”

“Since [name] said to meet at 5:53 pm by the ferris wheel, which wasn't specifically mentioned where and what, I guess we'll ride at dawn.” Amane looked at his laptop and started to peck the keyboard using his fingers. “When we arrive at Sanaol Academy, we'll ask for directions for the ferris wheel from the post card.”

“I have a theory though,” Kou tells him. “It could be a possibility that [name] is the person in your dreams.”

Then it clicked him into epiphany, why didn't he thought of that before? But again, Amane has no idea what [name] looked like anyways. He shouldn't be jumping in to conclusions that fast. Just because the girl who keeps appearing in his dreams doesn't mean it's already [name].

[name].

Amane lets out an exaggerated sigh from his lips and slouched against the swivel chair. He really did miss [name]'s company, even if it's just letters and texts.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow during their trip, they will meet. Amane makes sure of it, he wanted to see [name].

He wanted her to know how much he misses her after they lost each other. He can't go on.

Not without her.