#literally want to print this out and paste it in my notebook thank you

[thelaurenshippen]

okay i know im very very late to the party but i need to say that after listening to the entirety of tbs in the last month and a half and reading 2/3 of the books (sfp is arriving in a few days and i will be reading it then) i want to thank you for such an amazing experience. i had SO much fun and felt so many emotions while listening to all 7 seasons, and i have never felt more seen. especially when it comes to adam, who is actually me in a scary number of ways, from my love of shakespeare and baking and music to my gayness to my experiences with insecurity and loneliness and depression and sh, and a million more things. reading the infinite noise made me feel like you ripped every part of me out of my head and put me on the page to publish in the best way possible. your writing is going to stick with me for the rest of my life, and i cannot express how grateful i am to see myself represented in so many ways. so i guess what i'm saying is thank you, and you have touched my heart more than any other writer has in a very very long time, if ever. your work, and the work of everyone else who was part of the tbs universe, means so much to me. you have inspired me and helped me learn more about myself. i hope you have a lovely day :)

oh my gosh, you're gonna make me CRY! I am always over the moon to get these kinds of messages and I really love hearing that people relate to any of my characters, but especially Adam (and Sam of course) - Adam is so much of my teenage experience put into words and while I hate that anyone can relate to the rougher parts of that experience, it means so much to me when people do, because it means that neither you nor me are alone.

there's a line from "The History Boys", a wonderful play (and movie!), that is perhaps the only quote I have memorized verbatim because of how often I repeat it:

The best moments in reading are the ones in which you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you thought special and particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

that's all I'm ever trying to do with my writing. and I'm so grateful you're reaching back <3

[socstudies]

Hi, as someone who is going to be in their first year of college this fall, I'm curious about the note taking part

Is physical or digital note taking easier?

Is spending money on a laptop nessesary?

What is something you wish you would've done differently during your first year?

Do you have any advice?

If by any chance you see this, your blog and your aesthetic are amazing!

I'm wishing you a wonderful day/night.

If you do decide to reply, thank you in advance <3

helloo! sorry for the late reply & thank u for the ask! :)

ive tried both and i think i prefer handwritten notes, however they both have their pros and cons:

handwritten pros

proven to be better for retaining information

can't get distracted by other tabs

lighter to carry

costs less than a laptop

i've had some classes where we weren't allowed to use laptops so it's good to already be used to taking notes this way

cons:

much slower. sometimes i find im missing stuff and i have to go back to it at the end

have to print out diagrams etc if u want to include them

could possibly lose them, spill something etc

not enough space on desk for both laptop and notebook so u can't get slides up or google something

digital pros:

much quicker

easier to organise & pull up different notes at any time - u don't need to carry around or find older notebooks to be able to study or refer back to past classes

some people make notes directly onto the slides which u would have to print out if u wanted to do by hand

can also use for research and writing essays which u will need a computer for at some point so might as well do everything in one place

cons:

expensive

more stressful if u lose or break it

if u forget to charge it and u don't have paper .......

this upcoming year, im using a combination. most of the time i'll handwrite my notes, but for classes where they talk too quickly i'll type them (it's not worth the stress & extra time having to go back to recordings after). my notes for readings will be annotated straight onto the pdf. i'll be taking pictures of notes to put them all together.

---

unfortunately, i think it is because you'll need computer access to research and write ur essays, as well as to find course information etc. HOWEVER some universities (most?) have laptops that u can borrow and computers in the library, so if u know that you'll be motivated enough to get up and do all of ur work on campus, you could save this cost - bare in mind when u move off campus after first year it might be even harder. definitely look into this if cost is an issue for you! it doesn't need to be a fancy one if u do buy a laptop though, just remember u'll be carrying it around so don't get a super heavy one!

---

as for something i wish i'd done differently: as a sociology student, none of my classes have exams where i have to memorise things, instead it's all essay based. this led me to not 'study' i guess ??? like the stuff that i wrote my essays on, i knew like the back of my hand, but everything else i couldn't remember well. so if ur taking an essay based subject, remember that u still need to study a little & remember these things !! i was so overwhelmed tbh that i forgot about this oopsie!

---

extra advice:

when people say that after u skip one class, u'll skip the rest THEY. MEAN. IT. literally try so hard not to miss class bc you will never go again if u do. my classes would start off with not enough seats for everybody and end up with just a handful of us by the end of term.....

make time for urself !! it can become all consuming, especially if u live on campus, but pls make some dedicated time away from studying !!

u will find ur friends eventually. pls remember that it won't last or be that fun if u stick with friends who u don't have that much in common with just bc they were the first u met. tell me why i was going to bars and clubs with people in first term bc that;s what they wanted to do ????? it's ok to move onto different people bc u will eventually get tired of doing these things u don't like just to be able to hang out with people !! now i go to bookstores and cafes with my new friends and i love it!! don't settle !!

[humanperryfic]

i'm coming here from perryverse and just like. how do I get as good at writing as you are? what's your secret?

Awww thank you! Crazy that you're saying that since I think I've actually improved a lot since writing that fic.

Obviously the number one answer I have is going to be to just write, a lot. I got good as fast as I did because I bingewatched Phineas and Ferb in the first three days of the original Covid lockdown in March 2020, and then wrote a ton of fic because I was lucky to just be insanely bored.

So write. Write a lot. Write when you can. Slap it all out there on the internet. See what sticks.

Answer number two is going to be read, a lot. But not just passively. Read great fanfiction. Ask yourself why it's great. Read terrible fanfiction. Ask yourself why you hate it. Read real books. Ask yourself about what's going on that you like or don't like, especially between the two mediums of print and fic (because they are different! Also, "real" books tend to use a broader variety of vocabulary, which is always good). Read fic written by people who write English as a second, third, fourth+ language (assuming you're a native english speaker). Ask yourself why you would write/rewrite things to flow a certain way.

Read with an eye for things you want to do yourself.

Answer number three? Always have a little bit of outside perspectives and advice coming into your mind. The best way I've found to keep learning at this point is following people that give advice on writing particular characters or things. @cripplecharacters, @writingwithcolor, and @howtofightwrite are some of my favorite blogs to read whenever they post, and they have invaluable advice.

You're never too good of a writer to not learn new things or unlearn biases/misconceptions.

Answer number four is to keep things rotating in your mind. Not always at the front. But somewhere back there. Keep a running list of ideas on your phone or whatever somewhere I have a Discord server that's literally just me, where I keep my ideas for various things sorted, as well as a Noteful notebook for just...random ideas and plotting things out.

You never know what kind of random idea could be your most interesting fic idea.

Answer number five: Don't throw out any of your writing. Keep things around in whatever form you write in. Microsoft Word, Google Drive, whatever. Keep things around, even if they suck and all you wrote is a sentence and a half. You never know what you might come back to...and hey, keeping the old stuff is a great way to look back and see how far you've come.

Every scrap of writing tells a story. Keep it.

Answer number six: With that in mind, do try out writing an entire fic, plot bunny to published, in the AO3 editor at least once. You have to finish it in the month timespan. You have to publish it. It's a challenge, best suited for a shorter oneshot (though I've done it with fics up to 16.5k words lol), but it'll tell you something about how you write.

(If you fall short, copy/paste it all into a separate document and finish it. Don't waste your work.)

Answer seven: Plot brackets. Plot your fic out by writing the very very basics of what you want to happen in square brackets (ex. [perry goes home] [candace teases him about having a crush on someone]). Fill it in in whatever order you want. Make the brackets short and sweet. Use meme references. Or whatever. Make them stupid. Whatever gets the plot and vibes out onto the page.

[insert summarizing quip here]

Answer eight (the random stuff that I can't do a whole paragraph on each): Onelook Reverse Thesaurus. Lifechanger. When you can, write with your internet/cell service turned all the way off so you don't fall into a research/distraction rabbit hole. Try to write ten words every single day. Take a look at TVTropes every so often- Tropes are Tools, and you should know what's in your toolbox. Write about things you're obsessed with. Write the bad stuff. Write the dumb ideas. Write for the fandom with ten fics.

It doesn't matter. Just write it.

[rwhiteside123]

1. This project is called gum printing. First of all, I just want to say this project is probably the most hardest of all of the projects I have ever experienced making. It’s because dealing with different types of paints and toxicity when my teacher said you can cause cancer by making this type of imagery. I was scared and terrified oh what this would do to me. So I stood up and stared the process.Once I started, I didn’t quite understand the process and it was super frustrating to the point that I would literally cry, but at the end of it and made more sense understanding how to do the process. I had to ask questions and writing things down in a notebook, it was super helpful to get the ingredients correctly by measure out everything to the point of making this mistake. I’m not going to lie, this project took over a century to finish. When the students in my class took over 40 hours or more just to make the perfect images. I was impressed by his work and intelligence for being the first time using this type of lab work.

Steps for this project:

1. Crop, frame and print. First, take the photo of any kind of your favorite image that you have taken in the past or recently put it into Photoshop. Second; crop your image in Photoshop. Make it black-and-white or split channels if preferred. invert your image after that, select all your layers and flatten the image. 

2. Print; once you’re done with the Photoshop, and everything else you have done for your photo, go to the printer, set up the settings and print your image to a negative.

3. Cut paper; take your paper take your negative lay on top of the paper to see what size you need before cutting. Cut your paper to the size of the negative make sure you have little bit of paper left in the corners to fit the negative.

4. Shrink your paper; once you’re done with all the paper, cutting and cropping, you go to the dark room and put your paper into soaking hot water to let the paper shrink for 30-1 hour.

5. PB8; once it’s done soaking you get the PBA make sure it’s all coded twice before exposing your paper into the V LIGHT. (Let it fully dry)

6. Expose V LIGHT ; put the negative onto the white piece of paper that you just coded with then expose it to one to two minutes depending how much you want to expose your picture.

7. Almost there; Put it into the chemicals and see the magic happen.

8: DONE: Get it out of the chemical, put it in water. Let it soak for three hours or overnight for the better results.

Note:

Well, you’re exposing your pictures you want to write down some notes in your journal to remember what you did and what exposure you have done so you can make sure you get the exposure correct on this second image.

Images:

Most of my images are people and portraits that I have done in the past or recently just to give a closer. Look on how I done the images. I only done two layers on one or two of the images because it is a lot of time and effort.

Overall for this class

Overall, I have really enjoyed this class by learning a lot of things how to print images from decades, and willing to understand what people had to go through to make their images. I enjoyed every single process and learning to accept the hard times and failures. Not only is frustrating but the same time it’s fun and time-consuming knowing that people have done this to give credit and just enjoy the process of making magic through chemicals and experiments of working in the lab.

Teacher:

I just want to say thank you so much for always helping, and helping others to an extent of really getting the knowledge of photography. You’ve been such a great help and everyone seems to really had a good time in this class. I know I did.

1. The first image is a baby. The baby is my friend child. It’s a boy in a crib.

2. The second image is me in my front yard. I thought it would be pretty to take a picture before of all the different colors. Wish I have put more effort to add more colors.

3. The third image is my sorority sister, on a balcony of Pismo Beach. I wanted to take a picture of her, just looking out and viewing the ocean. Thought it would be nice. I had two colors in here: ten and red together and it blend out nicely together.

4. The fourth image is a picture of my friend Ashley. She’s been in my pictures a lot and she helped me build my portfolio because she wants to become a model. I have two colors, red and blue and I forgot to put yellow to make her face pop.

5. The fifth image is a baby eating a cake with his fingers. He’s sitting on a ground with a tent behind him. it was his birthday that day. He’s so cute. I wanted to do a red because I thought it would look something cool and different. I like the dark and light from the behind. 

6. My other images are just images that I done just to sample and practice on my skills of this project.

Thank you for listening and caring.

This semester was really fun!

[loumauve]

For the writer's ask: 12, 16 and 17!

thank you for the questions!! <3

[the list of questions can be found here]

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

couldn't possibly remember all of the ones that have slowly grown on me over the past what.. almost two decades of reading fic, but 'Hanahaki Disease' has been a recent one. and I don't always like it, just when it's done well. don't think I'd ever write it though

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

I LOVE AUs. most AUs will do. love me a good 'one of them is a monster, actually' and a lot of 'they get to live. fuck you, canon'. magical realism is always nice, too.

also a big fan of 'let's change one thing and see how everything spirals from there' really, really love that.

OH! also the whole 'let's put these characters in a whole different setting but keep them exactly true to who they are and go from there' SO GOOD. can really tell a good writer from that, they have their characters pinned down SO WELL.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

well, as we know from this amazing art, Skate AU for Horizon has been on my thoughts, somewhat parallel to trying to figure out an Old Ones/modern au and what they would all end up doing post school in that timeline.

@finrays and I have also been pondering a His Dark Materials AU in the broadest sense, those are always present in my mind whichever fandom I'm in.

then there's still the everyone lives au for Horizon, which.. if I was at all able to write long-fic I'd love to write someday, because I have a whole bunch of feels about so many things in that.

and then, and I know nobody here really remembers, there was a little show called Haven and another show called Fringe and I really wanted Olivia Dunham to meet Audrey Parker, and I have legit notes on that in a notebook somewhere, but I'll never end up writing it, again, bc long-fic and my brain do not cooperate (I don't know how y'all do it, I'm so impressed)

..I just looked through my folder of handwritten notes and printed out fic I wrote, and there's a bunch of crossover AU ideas like one with Thelma (from Hex) meeting Annie (from the og Being Human) like.. this heavily dates me lol but I did love those shows at a time, and still kinda do even if they're a little cringe now.

there's also an AU for Crossing Jordan where Lu lives and Hoyt dies instead. bc.. ya know, I wanted it to be more gay and that seemed like the perfect solution (don't blame me, I was still in the figuring out I'm actually queer phase of my life then. literally half my life ago)

anyway, I used to really love thinking up crossover AUs which is funny considering how I don't really love to read crossovers these days

[k3rm1e]

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

sickly

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

:^) anon my beloved;;;;; i love your brain. this could go two ways depending on whether you’re staying with phil or if you guys are online so i went with your staying with him. i also did a one shot but if you want hcs i hv no problem writing some :) i hope this is good!

cw: cursing

mumza and dadza take care of you:

  it had finally happened. while covid wasn't fully over just yet, many had gotten the vaccine and conventions were opening up again. which meant two things: meetups and twitchcon. finally, you could meet some of your supporters and see your friends.

  “mom, are we almost there?” your mom was driving you to the airbnb you’d be staying at with a few of the other dream smp members. at first, you assumed you’d all be staying in separate hotel rooms. but, this way, you could spend more time with friends, save money, and your mom wouldn’t have to be with you the whole time. there had already been many long conversations between philza and your mom to make sure you’d be safe staying with everyone.

  “yes, sweetie. almost there. we’re just two minutes closter than when you asked earlier.” ok, sue you, maybe you were a bit excited. but really, who could blame you? making in person friends had never been easiest, so the majority of your friendship were with people online. not being able to see or meet anyone for so long had been excruciatingly painful. 

  within ten minutes, you had finally arrived at the airbnb. quickly jumping out you ran to the door, obnoxiously ringing the doorbell. through the door, you heard an accented voice yell out, “i’m coming, i’m coming!”. at this point you were springing up and down on your tippy-toes, ready to spring out of your skin.

  the door opened and you were greeted by a very tired and annoyed looking wilbur, “hello?”.

`   “WILBURRRR!!!” you were screaming in his face (unintentionally), waking him up from his drowsiness. you launched yourself in his arms, not paying attention to your mother’s bewildered expression. you quickly let go of him and shoved past him, “i’m gonna go say hi to everyone!” distantly you heard wilbur begin to talk to your mother, explaining what you guys were doing.

  while running around you said hi to tommy, tubbo, ranboo, eret, fundy, niki, techno, phil and kristin. the others were either staying in another airbnb or in their own hotel rooms. after about thirty minutes, wilbur had finally stopped talking to your mom.

  “yes, ma’am. i can promise you they’ll be completely safe. you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” wilbur was calmly talking with your mother, looking more and more tired by the minute.

  “alright. thank you.” your mother called you over. “come give me a hug and say bye!” slowly dragging your limbs over, you let her hug you. behind you you could hear wilbur and phil laughing at you.

  “bye mom…” she was holding onto you tightly, petting down your hair.

  “oh, sweetie, i love you so much. i’m so happy you found something you're passionate about and made so many lovely friends while doing so.” as much as you loved your mom, the small snickers behind you were getting quite embarrassing. you could hear that tommy had joined in on the laughing. 

  “... i love you too, mom. can you let go now?” you tried pulling back, but all she did was pull you closer.

  “oh, but i just don’t wanna let you go. i love you so much, you know that right?”

  “i know, mom. i love you too. but you’ve gotta get home and i have to unpack and get ready for meeting with fans tomorrow.” you finally got her to pull away, “i love you mom, okay? thank you for letting me do this.”

  “oh, i love you too, sweetie.” and with that, your mom left. after watching her pull out of the driveway and down the street, you whipped around.

  “not. a. single. word.” you stared dead in the boy’s eyes, seeing just how much wilbur was about to burst out laughing.

  “what? personally, i think it’s very sweet.” tommy was smiling, purposely pissing you off. “so sweet, how much your mom loves you.”

  “shut your fucking mouth, tommy.” you stared deadpan at him and began walking inside and over to the kitchen.

  “what? i didn’t say anything wrong! i was just simply commenting on your very, very sweet relationship with your mother.”

  kristin moved forward to talk to you, “for what it’s worth, i do thing you hae a very sweet relationship with your mom.”

  “thank you. you’re the only good one in this house, kristin minecraft.” with that she laughed, and you all continued on with your evening. after staying up late watching old youtube videos, you all went to bed. in the morning you would have your first day of three at twitchcon, meeting fans and other creators alike. 

  for around 10 hours, you stood in booths signing fanart, prints, notebooks, and the like. meeting so many different people was eye opening, just learning who supported you. at the end of the day everyone went to a restaurant to eat dinner after so long.

  “this food… is so… fucking good.”

  “agreed.” you and the rest of the so-called ‘bench trio’ were eating at what wilbur had deemed the ‘kiddy table’. after eating so much food you were all tired. the rest of your friends had already left, walking back to the airbnb. when it was finally time to leave the restaurant, it was pouring rain.

  “WHY IS THE RAIN SO COLD IT’S LITERALLY SUMMER”

  after running home you had gone to sleep while the others had changed and taken showers. after sleeping for around ten hours, you had finally woken up. frankly, you felt like dogshit. you could barely breathe out of your stuffy nose and your head felt like it had been shoved full of wet cotton balls.

  instead of staying in bed, you got up and tried to get ready. on the way downstairs to get food and see who was making so much noise, you fell face first down the stairs. “owwwww…”

  hearing a ruckus, phil and kristin left the kitchen, where they were making pancakes. “holy shit! are you alright, mate?”

  pushing phil over, kristin walked over to you, “obviously they’re not okay phil! the poor kid is lying on the floor.”

  slowly getting up, you try to reassure both of them that you’re okay. “no, no, no, don’t worry. i am perfectly okay.” while you don’t know exactly how you sound, based on the expression on phil’s face, you don't think you sound very good.

  “uh, yeah, how about no. you sound like you’ve draken a whale bottle of vodka.” phil walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm, trying to hold you up.

  “i’m fineeee”

  “no, your fucking not. you’re burning up.” phil looked at you, angrily. “you need to go to bed.”

  “but i don’t wannaaaaa. i feel fineeee.” you felt like crying, for absolutely no reason. with that, you passed out on the floor.

  phil and kristin somehow managed to get you back up the stairs and into bed. once you were safely in your room, with no risk of cracking your skull open, phil took your temperature. “mate, your temperature is at nearly 102°. you’re lucky i don’t take you to a hospital.” he started at you, disapprovingly.

  “i’m sorryyyyy dadza. are you mad at me?” in your deluded state you pouted at him, like a child.

  “no, i’m not mad at you. just disappointed. you should’ve known not to do that. you’re old enough to know when you’re sick.” he stared at you with a disapproving look.

  “but that’s even worseeeeee” you felt like balling your eyes out. out of embarrassment, you tried to hide under your blanket. “can you tell mumza i’m sorry for worrying her?”

  above you, you heard phil laugh. “it’s not that big a deal, kid. i’m just upset. you could’ve seriously hurt yourself. i was worried.”

  “you were worried about me? awwwww, i love you too dadza.” you moved your head out of the blankets, smiling at him with dried tears and sweat on your face.

  “yeah, yeah. now shut up and go to bed.”

  kristin walked in, hearing what he said. “phil, don’t bully the kid. they already feel like shit.” out of the corner of your eye, you saw her look over to phil and smile at him.

  “i’m not doing anything, swear on my life!” he put his hands up in defense of himself, making you laugh.

  turning away from him, she directed her next question towards you. “how you feeling, kid? took quite a tumble there.” she smiled at you and ushed your hair out of your face.

  “i’m sorry for worrying youuuuuu. i love you, mumza. promise.”

  laughing, she leaned down to kiss you on the head. “love you too, kid. now, want me to sit with you and we can all watch some netflix or something?”

  you silently nodded and the two of them joined you on the bed, not caring very much if they got sick. after not even an hour, you all passed out.

  a few hours later, everyone returned back from the convention. let’s just say wilbur now had some very valuable blackmail.

hope you like it! this was so wholesome i- wfowcsjvri

i want parents like dadza and mumza now

[xonepeacelovex]

stray kids imagines as taylor swift’s songs from taylor’s version album ft. hyuncam | part 2

part 1

han jisung

jump then fall

it is rude to stare

you know and yet you can’t stop yourself

you are surely deeply madly lovestruck with jisung

and it’s driving you crazy

jisung, a transfer student

good at everything

aces every exam

that you studied hard to pass

that he made it looks so easy to ace

he’s a threat to your standing

and yet you can’t hate him

not when he’s the only one who is not scared of you

he became a friend

and then someone who makes your heart flip

truth hit you too hard

when the uninvited feeling crawled to your heart

you hate how jisung makes you feel like a puppet doll

you mirror everything he does

when he smiles you automatically smiles

you laugh at his dad jokes

which you don’t do

you like a quiet and peaceful high school thus the lone wolf facade

catching yourself smiling

you cough and made your way to your seat

beside jisung

he greeted you a good morning

which you just nodded

and despite the tight lipped smile and cold greetings

he still smiles at you and excitedly listens to your class

accustomed to you already

“it’s rude to stare”

your eyes widen, caught red handed

you are in the library, looking for a reference book

when you saw jisung sleeping, sun shining down on his face

you’ll walk away that moment when your heart starts pounding

though you thought he’ll be uncomfortable with the sun light

and what if the librarian caught him

so you absentmindedly walk towards him

blocking the sunrays with a book

like you are bewitched you stare at his face

he still hasn’t moved, eyes closed

you can’t think of any good excuse so you decided to go with the flow

he opens his one eye, to check your reaction

closing it again before chuckling

he sit up properly and stretch his arms

“if you’ll remain silent, i’ll think you did it on purpose”

“what if i did?”

“are you telling me you like me?”

“yes.”

you said confidently, there’s no backing out

you nervously look at his reaction

he’s searching your eyes for a hint of mischievousness

he remained silent

“if you’ll reman silent, i’ll assume you don’t like me”

“no. it’s not like that. i’m just scared.”

“of what?”

“of falling harder for you”

lee felix fearless

“wait felix. you’ll catch a cold.”

you shouted to your prom date

he happily hopped on the way to his car

you look at the suit in your hands

he gave it to you to use as a shield from the rain

“have this” he said then running towards his car

if only you have a choice not to go to this prom

but felix somehow made you go

*flashback*

“what the heck is this felix?” you whispered to him, making him satnd up from his kneeling position

“a promposal” he answered

your friends are giggling behind you

“for whom?” you asked him, perplexed

“for you.” he said a little louder, kneeling again with the bouquet of flowers

you look at him

he’s definitely paying you back with the stunt you did to him

everyone is cheering him on

you smile at them and look at felix

holding his arms to make him stand up again

you accepted the flowers without words

and he smiles at you and then at everyone surrounding both of you

you want to wipe that grin in his face

*end of flashback*

you can’t let him be alone in the rain with his suit above your head

so you decided to run under the rain, following felix

and he’s still unlocking his car, you cover his head too

even though it’s useless now

the suit too small for the both of you

you became soaked up by the rain

you thought you’ll hate being wet by the rain

but as every rain drop fell on your face you felt different

it’s exhilarating

lowering the protection you are holding, forgetting to use the suit as a cover up

a smile making it’s way to your lips

you look up at the sky

feeling every raindrop, it makes you feel like a kid again

no wonder why felix is smiling while looking at you

“you look like a kid” he teased

you look at him, keys still on his hands

he planned this

he has no intention of getting in in the car

“may i have this dance with you?” giving his hand out to you

you take his warm hands

he suddenly pull you towards him

heat radiating from his body made you stayed close to him

hugging him completely, closing your eyes

while he sways and your body just follows his

going to prom isn’t bad at all, you thought

and you are glad he asked you to his date tonight

you open your eyes, and he’s already looking at you

“not bad, right?”

“not bad if we don’t-”

he sneezed, moving away from you

“catch a cold” you continued

he shiver and then fix his messy wet hair

and your heart did a somersault

you look at the man responsible for it

“glad i didn’t turned you down”, you whispered

he heard you and hold your gaze

you sneezed also, ruining the moment

while you both laugh heartily under the pouring rain

kim seungmin

hey stephen

you don't really see the point of crushes

until you met kim seungmin

your first happy crush

and you see, happy crushes are supposed to be happy

but you're not

seungmin indeed is one of those heartbreakers

that didn't meant to hurt others

he's either oblivious that everyone likes hin

or he doesn't care about love

like you, before you developed feelings for him

it was just supposed to be a happy crush

plus feelings are not your thing

but seungmin really did captured your heart

and you are happy with just his existence

so you don't know why he's walking towards you

smiling, waving at you, like he knew for years

"y/n"

your brain stopped working that moment

how the hell he did know your name

and why is he smiling 🙂

that moment you thought to yourself, “you’re doomed”

and started thinking “is is still a crush?”

seungmin called you again

flustered that he caught you staring at him

“hey seungmin”

you brushed off the way he’s looking at you with playful smile

“what are you writing?”

and not to be simp but you are writing a poem about feelings

feelings for him, specifically

you immediately closed the notebook

“how do you know my name?” you asked, getting yourself together

“what?”

“how do you know my name? we are not even classmates”

“uhm... you are right” he looked around, avoiding your eyes

you looked around also, noticing the group of girls from a distance

you chuckles when you saw it

“are you using me as an escape?”

“yes” he confessed without hesitation

you nodded

“and i knew your name through jeongin”

it’s safe to say you are not the only one with a happy crush

i.n/yang jeongin today was a fairytale

directing a play is stressful

you are not even the club president

your best friend was though

so when she asked for help with puppy eyes

you can't just say no

you did say yes to production

making stage props and wardrobe are manageable

and watching them rehearse for it is enjoyable

the leading man, jeongin, is a good actor and singer

he also helps you make the props during their break

“does this need a second paint?”

you jump from the scare, hands flying to your chest

you are currently humming the song for the play

when you saw him, laughing at you, you sigh

“please don’t scare me like that again”

“i’m sorry”

“okay, and yes”

“why are you alone though? where are the others?”

you shrug and his facial expression turned into some kind of anger

that you don't think he can express cause he's so nice every time

he silently paints with you

it’s not that you are not aware the other official club members are not helping at all

cause they are, leaving all the works to you

and you can’t complain to your best friend

she’s stress enough to manage the production

you came home exhausted that day

the next day, all the club members that are supposedly helping you with the production are there making props

and you see jeongin winking at you

you thought it will be smooth sailing from there until

when the leading lady literally broke her leg

your best friend breakdowns in front of you

you and jeongin are comforting her

“who’s gonna replace her?” your best friend said, exasperated

jeongin points at you, “y/n has the script memorized!”

your eyes widen, “what?!”

your best friend looks at you with expectation “do you?”

you bit your lip, “yes”

she holds both of your hands “please?”

you sigh, “okay,”

and now, you found yourself as a leading lady

you are not for the spotlight and yet you are starting to enjoy acting

"okay now we are at the scene where jeongin will kiss you"

"what?!" you both said as you look at each other

"did i forget to give you the updated script? oh my gosh yes!" your bestfriend answered her own question as she opened her laptop searching for its soft copy

"i'll print it for you guys but let's continue rehearsing"

jeongin slowly walks up to you

following every words of your bestfriend

your eyes stayed at him, as he stop in front of you

you gulped, heart beating faster

your first kiss

your first kiss will be with jeongin

you bit your lower lip as he leans forward

his left hand on your back while the other is holding your cheek

you closed your eyes, not ready for any of these

jeongin felt your nervousness

so he angled your face

you felt his breath on your cheeks

he kisses your nose

you opened your eyes and stared at jeongin

as he smiles at you

"cut! let's take a break" your best friend shouted

you back away from him, heart pounding louder

you cleared your throat as you walk to your best friends without saying anything to jeongin

dragging her outside the theatre

"why you didn't say there will be a kissing scene?" you confronted her

"i'm sorry really the scripwriter changed it last night. he thinks it is necessary to the story," she apologized

you sigh, you can't just say to her that it will be your first kiss

on the day of the play, you are nervous but for another reason

you don't know if jeongin will kiss your lips

you can't fake the kiss in front of a hundred people

but he act so well that he made the kiss like a real kiss as he angles your face

and you are thankful and disappointed too

why?

for the past weeks you've harbored a crush for jeongin

as the curtain closes and all the actors and actresses went to the backstage

jeongin slowly walks up to with a rose in a hand the one he got, he handed it to you

"i know you don't like me but i like you" he confessed and as he walk away you hold his hand and pull him to you

finally kissing him

A/N: I need to make a part 2 because Tumblr won’t let me add anything on the first post. I had to cut Jeongin’s part abruptly because this post is too long (Tumblr said it). Anyway, have a good night. 

Copyright © 2021 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.

[vintagedolan]

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question. 

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.” 

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine. 

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places. 

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways. 

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa. 

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago. 

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least. 

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue. 

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him. 

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef. 

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him. 

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef. 

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad. 

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed. 

“I don’t know how to tell.” 

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.” 

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up. 

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled. 

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest. 

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing. 

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said. 

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.” 

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

[spicedcinnamoncake]

‘Flowers’ Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader  summary: you are slowly failing herbology. Neville’s here to help warnings: none TW: fluff💕 1.2K words

  You stared down at your paper. 45%. Failed. 

  Herbology was never your strongest subject, but this year you were really struggling. You went from a 70% to a 50%. Now you were slowly but surely failing. 

  You rubbed your eyes and shoved the test into your bag. Class was over and everyone started to pack p and head out. 

  You were about to leave when Professor Sprout pulled you aside. Oh no. 

  ‘Ms. Y/L/N, you have been struggling a lot in my class lately. Are you not understanding the lessons?’ she asked, giving you a disappointed look. You gulped and tried to avoid eye contact. ‘I have no idea Professor. I can’t grasp the lessons as easily as everyone else, and i don’t know why.’ 

  Professor Sprout scanned the greenhouse before her eyes fell on a dark-haired boy who was tending to some sort of magical plant. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

  ‘Ah, Neville! Would you come over here for a moment?’ Professor Spout called to the boy. He walked over and stood there shyly, hands in his pockets. ‘Yes Professor?’

  ‘This is Y/N. They are really struggling with herbology, would you be willing to tutor her?’ Professor Sprout asked, gesturing to you. Neville turned a light shade of pink and gulped. ‘S-sure. Meet me at the library after classes.’ He said, his voice was mellow and sweet-sounding. He seemed like a shy guy, but shy in a cute way. 

  You smiled at him. ‘Ok, see you then.’

  You left the greenhouse and went on with your day. Potions, charms, ah finally. Lessons were over with. 

    You walked to the library, quills and an empty parchment in hand for notes. Neville was sitting at a table near the back next to a window that looked out to the garden. 

  ‘Hey Neville’ You said, sliding into the chair in front of him. You saw his cheeks turn a slight pink as you looked up at him. You noticed a few books in the middle of the table, all about different flowers, herbs, trees and their magical properties. 

  ‘Hi Y/N. Ok, let’s start. So, what are you mostly struggling in?’

  You tapped your chin and thought. Thinking back to the test, the part about this type of flower stumped you the most. 

  ‘Magical flowers, literally that. I keep getting their properties mixed up and it’s just really confusing.’ You said, twisting a quill between your fingers. Neville nodded and picked up one of the books, flipping through until he stopped on this one page. He held it up and a picture of a beautiful orange flower was painted on the page. ‘Let’s start here.’ 

  Neville was a really good teacher. He helped you understand so well, always going over it again if you didn’t understand until you could retain information as quick as possible. You smiled up at him. 

  ‘Wow, thanks Nev. See you tomorrow?” 

  ‘Sure. Same time same place.’ 

  You skipped out of the library. Neville watched as you went and sighed. He has liked you forever now. He nearly passed out while tutoring you. You were so eccentric, beautiful, nice, how could he NOT like you? 

  Perhaps he thought you were too good for him. No, he just needed to speak up. Maybe he’d ask you out... tomorrow? after tutoring? No, it was too soon. 

  Weeks went passed, and you found both your grades and your feelings for Neville get higher. You loved that concentrated look on his face whenever he cared for plants, he looked so smart and controlled. 

  You were a clumsy mess. He was a sweetie. 

  One day you were walking through the garden, when you heard footsteps running behind you. You whipped your head around. Neville caught up to you, panting. He held out a notebook. ‘you left this in the library.’

  You grinned as you took the notebook from him. Your fingertips brushed against each other when you took it, and you felt a blush start to creep across your cheeks. ‘Well, thank you Neville. I’ll see you at dinner later?’ 

  ‘Yep, see you.’ 

  You watched as he walked away. You sighed. How long could you two keep up this silly ‘just friends’ charade? 

  You soon discovered the answer when you flipped to the next empty page in your journal. Inside was a pressed flower, and a small folded note. The note was in Neville’s neat scrawl. It read: ‘Would you like to go out with me?’ 

  You felt your heart beat out of your chest and your face turn pink. The corners of your mouth turned up into a wide smile as you re-read the note. You pressed it into the small leather cover of the journal so it wouldn’t get lost. 

  The flower was a pink little one with delicate petals containing all shades of pink from coral to rose. It smelt wonderful too. You taped it to a page before sliding the book back into your bag.

  At dinner, Neville was visibly redder then usual when you walked past him. You were going to sit with your usual friends, but before you did you dropped a small note into his lap before walking off. 

  Neville opened it carefully. Inside was a few printed words that made his heart flutter: “Of course! Surprise me;)” 

  His heart jumped. He knew exactly where to take you:  The gardens. Not just the gardens though, this secret secluded part where lots of vegetation has already taken over. 

  The next day after your tutoring session, Neville took hold of your hand and began to lead you out of the library and into the hallways. ‘Where are we going?” you asked, giggling. Neville gave you a sweet smile. ‘You said to surprise you, so I’m doing that.’ 

  You blushed. Neville seemed confident, but his heart was beating fast. 

  You two turned into the garden and went down a path. The area had a floral scent hanging in the air, and plants and flowers of all colors were hanging off the walls and growing in between the cracks in the stone. You gasped at the beauty of the place. It felt so calming. ‘Oh Nev, it’s beautiful.’ 

  ‘Like you.’ 

  You turned around. Neville had a single purple flower with heart-shaped petals in his hand, and a shy smile across his lips. ‘Y/N, I just want to say, I really, really like you. Your so beautiful, and nice, you make my heart flutter. Would...Would you like to go out with me?’

  You went over to him. He put the flower behind your ear, tucking a loose strand of hair away from your face. 

  ‘Oh Nev, i like you too. Of course i’d go out with you.’ 

  He smiled, hooked an arm around your waist and brought you in for a kiss. His lips melted slowly into yours, creating a sweet sensation that pumped your blood with serotonin. You put your hands on his chest and kissed him back. He tasted like nectar, sweet and magical. 

  You pulled away from him and hugged him tight. He rested his chin on top of your head, planting small kisses in your hair. 

  The moment was magical, surrounded by plants, love, and your now boyfriends arms. 

  From that day forward, you have been finding small pressed flowers in all your textbooks or in your pockets after Neville hugged you. 

  He was the sweetest boy ever. You loved the way he blushed when you gave him winks or pecks on the cheek in the corridors, or they way he held your hand under the table during herbology. 

  You and him weren’t complete without each other. Like the flower needed the sun, to fully open up and blossom. Just like your relationship.   

[magicalsalamander]

Sangre Solium

            Sequel to Sangria Wine

Pairing: BTS Yoongi ⇆ Reader 

Genre: Vampire | CEO | Medical | Fluff| Angst | Slight Horror | [Eventual] Smut

Summary: When rent is cutting short and you’re at your last resort. Your job has been cutting your hours slowly, and bills were stacking up. You walk into a donation center, blood donating center for the undead to earn some quick cash, but…the thing is…you’re afraid of needles.

Word: 6.3K

Rating: Mature; mentions of blood and phobia of needles/blood, fainting, vampiric activity, and mentions of mating.

A/N:  Sangria Wine was posted on 20 Oct 2018 and it received so much love. Originally I didn’t want to continue the story. It was supposed to be a oneshot and done. However, after deliberating with myself, I took the time to think of how I want to continue the story. Now, here we are, chapter 2. Thank you for reading

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Blue fluorescent light passing under the copy machine’s lid wasn’t enough to wake you from your stupor. After it had printed out your college-textbook-thick worth of copies you stared at the white top aimlessly.

God, you messed up, you messed up big time.

The clinic had you marked, banned from returning to the clinic. A literal red strike was crossed over your chart. Your file probably was thrown into the shredder just for emphasis. How could you pass out when your donor was taking from you? He wasn’t even there when you woke up. However, the prick marks from his fangs were like a tattoo on your neck. They were faint, but you could see the marks distinctly.  God, you were so stupid. Despite your embarrassing episode, you were still paid though. You would’ve normally refused, but you took the envelope with your head hanging down. You were able to make rent, yet here you were, a week later, panged with more questions, the most blaring question was of the next month’s bills.

Rolling your shoulders your bone cracked and popped as you dispelled tension. There was a constant knot in your shoulders and a small throbbing pang in your head. The pain would intensify at work and your temples become sensitive like a sunburn. Maybe—you were pretty sure—it was the endless stacks of paperwork piling at your desk thanks to your boss. The other day it was nearing the tip of the wall of your cubicle. There was one thing you could hold onto though. It was Friday.

You picked up the papers with a grunt. The weight dug into your forearm which was leaving a dent in your skin. You struggled back to your desk passing rows of filled cubicles. As you reached your desk you dropped the stack with a tremor. The minor earthquake sent your precious coffee splashing over the edge of the cup nearing towards your fresh textbook. With a hushed curse under your breath as you reached for your cup, you wiped up the lost paradise with a tissue before it caused another disaster. You stood there for a moment as you let out another sigh. You rolled your shoulder once more. The morning was as old as the paradise lost un-sipped coffee. As soon as your heel touched the lobby floor you hit the ground running this morning. Your coffee was past lukewarm and brimming on disgustingly bitter from the air conditioner. You grumbled under your breath, great, just great.

Swiveling the chair around, then adjusting your chair cushion, you sunk in like a ragdoll. Everything has been off since your trip to the clinic. You couldn’t shake the feeling, the odd tingling in your joints that vibrated your skin with unease. What were you going to do? How were you going to make this month’s bills? You couldn’t ask anyone to help owing something to anyone was just a bigger headache.  Especially your parents, you couldn’t ask them, they hound for the money back immediately. Living in the city away from your family was something you prided yourself on. You were independent, that’s the promise you made to yourself and them.

Your manager, an old, portly man with a poorly glued toupee, walked down your isle greeting your other coworkers. He slowed down when he passed other female employees, purposefully giving them the extra attention; and they always played into it, knowing he’d suck up all the attention. A promotion was a promotion. That was where you “messed up”, you never buttered him up or took the compliments without turning it back to business. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him picking up pace as he speeds past your desk. He dropped folders on top of the stack you just printed out. With more authority than he could ever muster with an overtly fake commanding voice, “On my desk by noon Y/L/N.”

Numbly you gazed over to the tower still being worked on against the cubicle as you slowly observed the stack of manila folders just added. You tried turning to catch him before he rounded the corner, standing up haphazardly, jerking to a halt your skirt caught on the ajar top drawer. “Sir, wai—ouch!” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you heard your skirt rip. You slumped back down, holding your tongue as your manager rounded and disappeared around the corner. With gentle fingers you held the three-inch tear together, your cold hand soothing the scrapped tender skin under. You didn’t break skin, but it still stung. Sighing in defeat, your eyes slowly moved over observing the ever-growing tower on your desk. You pulled the scrapper open and fished around through your junk bin. When you found a safety pin, you held it in your hand and closed the drawer. You bit on the bars releasing the pointer then held the pin between your teeth. You scooched back and with two hands you pleated the tear tightly then pinched it tightly with one hand.  

Why was he piling it all on your desk? Did he hate you? You’ve never done anything to him. You were the newest, but the distribution of work was still unfair.

Skillfully with your other hand, you weaved the pin through the frayed fabric. You pulled the fabric through the pin and with only a bit of pin left your thumb nicked the tip. Hissing through your teeth you retracted your thumb with lightning reflexes and automatically bringing it to your lips. Inspecting your thumb you sighed in relief you didn’t break skin, but the prick mark was there. That’s when it hit you. You didn’t pass out.

Just-just maybe…just maybe…

You unweave the pin and closed it shut as you fisted it tightly in your hand. You put your computer to sleep and grabbed your coffee cup. You left your towering papers and walked towards the breakroom focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The handle of your cup became slippery as your grip grew sweaty. You checked the breakroom for anyone inside, but at this odd hour, everyone had already grabbed their morning cup of coffee or snack. The plastic table and chairs were thankfully abandoned.

You slipped inside, closing the glass door behind you and walked over to the sink. You poured your old coffee out and rinsed it out, the pin too, then set your cup down and pin next to it. You took the coffee pot and filled it with fresh water. You poured it into the container and started it up again. The crackling noises filled the empty room and the pot began to fill with coffee. You stared at the black droplets as it dripped and rippled. For a short second, you smiled at the small paradise before it disappeared. You knew what you were doing here. You were prolonging it; you could pick it up and get the prick over with. You were stalling. Your hands were trembling as you clutched onto the countertop. Your hands were soaking wet with sweat. You paced over and ripped a paper towel dabbing your trembling hands as you whispered to yourself. “It’s just a prick, it’s just a prick, it’s just a prick.”

Why couldn’t you handle a single prick? You weren’t going to die, but why did your body react so dramatically. If you could do this then you could go to another clinic and all your problems would be solved. You could do this.

With sudden confidence, you crumpled and tossed the paper towel away. Picking up the cold pin that instantly heated up in your hand, you pushed in the pin and hooked it around the clasp. You stared at the needle and the sudden confidence vanished. All the reasons why you shouldn’t do this come flooding over your system. Your fingers locked up the knot in your shoulders intensified. Saliva pooled on your tongue and gulping was hard as it hurt your throat. Subconsciously your shaking, tight fingers managed to move as you forced the motion of wiping the pin and your sweaty hand on your skirt.

You just need to prick your finger, just prick your finger and not pass out.

You stabilized your hand as you brought the pin up and near your thumb.

Just prick it. It’s only a second. That’s it.

You just need to press it lightly and that’s it.

There’s no big deal.

It’s-just-a-prick.

Your breathing shortened as you lower the pin closer to the pad of your thumb. Your hearing began ringing in your ears, knees losing tension, but you stood still. You inhaled deeply and held it for a few seconds hearing your heartbeat in your ear. You pulled your hand back like pulling the string of a bow, reading your arrow, and—release.

It was faint, but it was there. It was always there, correction, you were always there.

The pulled curtains over the ceiling to floor windows only let in a sliver of light. His nearly bare grey walls absorbed any of the strayed light. There was a screen protector over his desktop computer, alongside an open notebook and a stack of papers, clipped, ready for dispersal.

Throb, throb, throb.

Both eyes closed, an eyebrow perked, as his open palm supported his thrumming temple and his other was busy. His fingers from his pinky to his index in a flowing rhythm was countering the ticking of his desktop clock.

He was fine Monday. He’s a patient man after all.

Tuesday was okay.

Wednesday wasn’t bad, but Thursday felt nearly intolerable. Yet, he held it together.

Today��oh, today. He could feel you frantically in his veins. Your heartbeat was pulsing in his head like a migraine. He was fine with light, the stereotype was false, but today, the small light leaking in was intensifying the pain. He was so in tune with you. It irked him because the pain was pointless. He’s always been one to understand, ahead of the game, planning the game, but he wasn’t sure why he was in pain. With his middle knuckle raised in the air, he stopped tapping abruptly. He pressed all his fingers flat against the desk to center himself. The table felt warm compared to his temperature. That was another thing that had been happening to him lately, he had been feeling warmth randomly in bursts.

His world has been off kilter…and it all started with you.

False breathing for a moment, he let himself feel the pain. The beating in his head grew louder and louder. He dug into his inner blazer pocket and pulled out a small, tin mint box. Inside, instead of mints, were synthetic blood pills. He swallowed three raw, feeling them travel down his throat. He breathed in heavily waiting for the soothing effect to come over, the clock on his desk counting down in the background. Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three…the throbbing pain was still there.

With a rumbling growl that vibrated his chest, he stood from his chair like a feral beast trying to escape. He chucked the pillbox into the trash. He couldn't stand it anymore. He adjusted his grey suit and tightening his black tie as he walked towards the doors. He pushed through without pause, stuffing his fidgety hands into the pockets of his pants.

His secretary, Hoseok, the only man—a vampire—on this planet who could put with him, abruptly stood from his desk nearly toppling over. Papers he had been working on spilled over as he attempted to pick them up and pay attention at the same time. Forgetting his formalities for a second, “Yoongi, what—?” He swallowed his question as Yoongi’s gazed flicked over to him for a split second. They were fiery red, a raging fire that could turn anything into ash. Regaining professionalism, he attempted to put together why his boss was out of his office. “Sir,” checking his watch twice, ”it’s not time for the meeting yet.”

Hoseok was completely in shock. He swore he’s never seen his boss look this automaton and hagride. The creases on Yoongi’s suit weren’t fully pressed. Yet, Hoseok was still slightly timid in Yoongi’s presence, despite being best friends for centuries. His status didn't change the fact that the look in Yoongi's eyes was near lethal. There was a physical air around him that if it could only be described as a black cloud.

Yoongi’s voice was low and tense as it rolled out, “I’m doing random floor assessments.” Yoongi walked past Hoseok and into his private lobby, pressing the elevator’s down button.

Hoseok gathered what he could, dress shoes loudly clicking on the marble tile as he jogged to catch up. He barely swept passed the closing doors and into the elevator. Adjusting his suit and demeanor as the CEO’s secretary, best friend aside, “What-what department would you like to see first Sir?” Yoongi pushed the button for a floor without telling his secretary. Hoseok cast a slight glance at him only to look back quickly unnerved by his utter nonchalance. Clearing his throat he dared not to ask.

Yoongi rolled his neck slowly before the ding of the elevator signaled their arrival. As he stepped out Hoseok was hot on his trail matching Yoongi’s air of confidence as soon as the door opened. Yoongi rounded the corner and out to the large, open floor plan office floor. It was in a state of half-organized half-cluttered with light pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows that traveled all along the wall. The light intensified the pain, but he kept on. People lingering in the aisles lost in their smile and faux chuckles. A man cleared his throat and adjusted his tie suddenly cutting his conversation off as he stared in awe. A woman sipping from her mug suddenly choked spilling her drink on her shirt a bit. Yoongi made his way dead center through the major divide between the left and right desk. The noise in the room overall died down in a cascading wave to a hushed murmur. Yoongi kept his chin high and eyes straight as he walked, not bothering to meet the gaze of anyone who dared stare at him. Yet it was a given that people avoided his gaze. Yoongi drowned out the babbling, yet he heard the whispers, “It’s the red shadow.”

A tall, gangly man cleared his throat, along with a few others, cutting through stunned individuals and the aisles and came to meet Yoongi as he crossed their path. The man ushered a few others with him like stooges. With a trembling hand and voice, he attempted to approach Yoongi, following behind when they passed them without a word. The posse dumbly followed. The floor manager attempted again, “Mr. Min, Good morning. What…,” the manager exchanged glances with the other lingering employees, “ to what do we owe a visit from you today?”

Yoongi raised a brow, but without a true response, he continued to walk around in a short tour. The manager’s murmured among themselves, however, Yoongi could hear their whispered panics clearly. Yoongi never visited any of the departments, he always resided at the top of his tower. He had others to do that, come to him at the top, and report back. He had no interest in what they were doing, but he wanted to stall. He wasn’t sure his body couldn’t handle the intense wave. He wasn’t even on the right floor yet, seven floors above the intended. This was a practice round for himself. He could feel it, you, your heartbeat was raising and raising.

With a group of people behind him now, he prowled through the department. He could feel the individuals in their cubicle's heart rates skip as he walked past. It was so loud with all the noise. This was one of the main reasons why he never came down to the departments. After making around he returned to stand in front of the elevators. Hands locked behind his back he nodded and his secretary pushed the button for him. He stepped inside the elevator first then Hoseok followed to stand behind him. He stared directly ahead unblinking at the managers who stood their dumbfounded, silent, yet he could see their pupils trembling.

The doors closed.

Hoseok cleared his throat, “What floor next, Sir?”

Without glancing sideways, passing his tongue over his fangs, “Marketing.” His secretary nodded and pressed the button.

It felt slow like the mechanism was moving through molasses as he observed the digital numbers count down. He’s never felt the need to tuck his hands into his pants pocket enough, for the first time he's never known what to do with his restless hands.

Throb, throb, throb.

He patted his blazer in habit, searching for his pillbox, only to remember he threw it away. Rolling his shoulders needlessly then closing his eyes, he counted to ten resting his expression. As he opened his eyes slowly, narrowed and forward, they were glowing red despite his attempt. He stared at his own wicked look in the chrome reflection of the metal doors.

Hoseok with a soft gaze stared at him through the reflection, “Yoongi, are you alright?”

With no other choice, Yoongi tucked his hands in his pockets and grunted. The elevator dinged in arrival. He could feel it deep in his chest, that pull. He grunted ticking his head to the side disheveling his neatly done hair.

He lunged forth on instinct as a light sample of your scent filled his senses. Rounding out into the bright light that filled this floor as well, but like the pain, it became background noise as he focused on your scent. In practice, he followed the same routine walking down the middle part. Your scent grew stronger and stronger as he passed aisles until he came to a stop. He looked left and right up and down the aisle and followed instincts to the right. He paced as he passed cubicles. He paused in front of a cubicle that was empty. It was your desk, he could recognize your scent, even though he had only met you once, he knew it was yours.

A small shadow cast over him as the portly man greets him, “Good morning, Mr. Min may I-I-I help you?” The manager's eyes follow where he had been staring, especially licking his lips at the tower of papers. He clears his throat and copies Yoongi’s pose by putting his hands in his slacks, attempting to appear taller. “Ah, Mr. Min, I’m sorry for the mess. Ms. Y/N she’s quiet the slacker, she never gets her work done on time. She's new so maybe the company motto hasn't seeped in yet. But don't worry Sir, I promise you I will keep her in line though.”

Yoongi broke gaze for the first time, sparing his narrowing glance at the man. Although his face was neutral it spoke a thousand words.  

"Where is she?" You hadn't been gone long your scent still lingered, and warmth still coated the air.

When the manager was left stunned quiet and stuttering, a chilling sensation seeped through Yoongi’s body. He shuttered out an unstable breath, closing his eyes for a moment. The manger mistook it as anger and began apologizing immediately drowning out his sound until he heard it. He heard it loud and clear echoing in his ears a sound of a sharp cry…that came from you.

Having not realized another small group had formed around him. He plowed through the group and began rushing towards the sound. The sound of panting filled his ears as he allowed the sound to act as a radar. At the door of the break room, he looks through the glass door. Your standing at the counter your hand comes out to clutch at the counter, but your feet staggered. Your knees begin to buckle and his eyes widen as he realizes what's about to happen. He could hear it. Your breathing paused as you began collapsing. Nearly ripping the door open fear fills him as on your downfall he catches you pulling you into his chest.

You didn’t look up to him, your face was hidden as it hung low and your hand trembled as they latched onto his blazer. The glimmer of the pointy end of the safety pin dripped a single drop off blood onto the floor. His pupils dilated, engulfing the red into pure darkness. A feral awakening within happened as he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head and your knees unlock, you begin falling like silk. He bolted forward and caught you in his embrace. He slumped to the floor with you embraced in his arms he held your head in one hand to get a better look at your face. It was almost unreal, he knew you were here, imagined it for days even, but here you were. Your face was relaxed as your unfocused eyes fluttered and his in panic.

The scent then hit him. He smelled it intensely in the air filling up the small space form such a small concentration. He brought up your hand and a small drip had made its way down your fingers. He grunted holding himself, everything he had in him back. On instinct he brought his finger to his lips and licked, his saliva sealing the small wound instantly. He resisted feeding, resisted biting, the need to protect you overrides baser instincts. He whispered your name, but you already passed out. Pulling your face to his chest, he felt the need to protect you. Your hand slumped from his grip and the safety pin slipped from your hand. Hearing a small clink he followed to the sound and noticed the open safety pin with a bit of your blood at the end. His heart squeezed. Cupping your cheek gently he pushes your hair out of your face. His eyebrows creased as he looked between the pin and you. He whispered, “Why?”

 Soon enough in the doorway of the breakroom, it had filled with his entourage. Your manager and a few others stood wide-eyed at the door. The assistant manager nudged your manager, "Go, don’t let the CEO take care of your employee.”

Choking on his saliva he pushed through and into the breakroom. “I’m so sorry Sir, please, let me take her." In a panic, the manager reached for you trying to take you away from Yoongi.

His back was towards the manager, a growl sounds, “No.” The manager panicked, trying to save face still by inching forward still. He had intended to do this earlier, but now seemed timely, “You’re fired.”

The manager sputtered, “I’m sorry, Sir, I’ll have a replacement for her soon. I will hire a better employee. This is my mistake.” He again tried pushing through to grab you from his embrace.

This time Yoongi growled out in a near roar, “You idiot, you’re fired! GET OUT!”

The manager stuttered as Hoseok pushed through the small crowd as he easily pushed away the manager. The manager stumbled back, face aghast and white as he was treated no better than a fly.

Hoseok questioned, “Sir?” 

Gently he gathered you in his arms and held you under your knees. Yoongi turned head gazed over his neck with a hard stare, eyes deep red, unspoken words between them. He stood up with you in his arms bridal style, your head tucked in his neck. It sent a shiver down his spine. Your soft breathing tickled his neck and again the hair on his body raised. His secretary and other managers were equally as shocked, shaking in their shoes, afraid for you and themselves. Hoseok had never seen Yoongi act like this, he was wondering what was going on with his best friend, especially a random girl from marketing.

Yoongi didn’t spare a glance his way, but he spoke directly to the manager, “I’ll make sure to it personally no one hires you again.”

The smell of urea tainted everyone’s nose.

Naturally, everyone parted as he walked through the crowd with you tucked close. Everyone in the cubicles had their eyes on him, but he could care less. He gallantly walked through the office. He entered the elevator and looked down at you as the doors closed.  

Your eyes lazily blink open as you blearily stare at the tall, grey ceiling. It’s so dark. Your eyes are open but you can’t comprehend why. A chill washed over you and settled over you like a wet blanket. Your teeth chattered as you internally groan, it's freezing. With a deep inhale, your heavy arms struggle to raise and wrap around yourself. You slowly sit up but as you move in slow motion you feel your skin pull away from the leather couch you’re resting on. You felt sticky, like semi-dry glue, gunky and dirty. You blink trying to take in where you are, where were you? Slowly you swung your legs around and down onto the ground. You need to feel it. It’s eerily quiet. Trying to focus on anything in the darkness none of the silhouettes seemed familiar. Just exactly, where were you? Weren’t you in the breakroom a moment ago?

Slumping forward and running your hands through your hair you held your head for a moment. Hunched over as you tried finding common ground for all your senses. Your manager was going to be so upset. Were you going to get fired? Your head raised on that though. You couldn’t afford getting fired. You couldn’t get fired! At the sudden movement, a wave of dizziness flooded you. Focusing on what was before you, your mind froze. You blinked a few times before the shadowed image defined itself. A silhouette of a man was sitting on the coffee table with his hands clasped on his knees hunched forward. Raising his head he met yours, his narrowed red eyes were beaming at you with intensity.

A choked cry for help forced itself up to your throat as you jolted away. You raised your feet off the ground and tuck them close to yourself. This must be some twisted nightmare, but it felt so real, your pounding heart and head felt all too real. He sat up straight, his eyes rounding out a bit. He tried leaning forward to you but caught himself. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to take in the disheveled dark hair of a fair-skinned man. If this was a nightmare why were they still there? This means—he was real. The longer you stared you realized his features looked tired, red eyes still narrow but softer around the edges as they held your curious gaze. Oddly, the shock washed away immediately and a weird sense of familiarity filled you. Those eyes, you knew those eyes. you realize, “You?”

He cocked a brow, repeating after you teasingly, “You?”

You racked your brain, trying to remember his name in the endless bank, but it was just on the tip of your tongue. His face was so familiar. You blinked away the haziness as his face began connecting the dots before you had a constellation. Stars lit up in your eyes, then you cleared your throat, “Yoo-Yoongi?”

Of course, you remember him. The man who you had embarrassed yourself in front of, not only once but now twice. You felt your cheeks heat up.

You lowered your feet back down.

A small smirked perked upon his lips exposing the tips of his fangs.

You squinted, “Wait, why…how did I get here?”

His smile softened up his glaring features. He stood up and rounded about as he poured a glass of water. You carefully watched his back, the suit he wore looked expensive. You gazed around the room for a second noting all the equally expensive-looking décor. This office looked straight out of a magazine with minimal but luxurious details. This lounge was a part of his office, his presidential desk faced towards the lounge.  

“Here, drink this.” He handed you a glass of water that you gladly expected with a hushed thanks. “You were in the breakroom when I found you, so I brought you to rest for a while on my couch.”

You sipped on the water, nodding in understanding. Everything he was saying made sense so far. And with the glass raised to your lips, you realized—you realized why you had passed out. You cringed internally as you tucked your thumb into your fist. You felt mortified, frozen in place. Yoongi had seen you again in such a pathetic position. You wished the world would open up and swallow you whole. Wait, his couch? This was his couch?  Wait...Yoongi…the receiver you were supposed to donate— wait, the one you had passed out on. You passed out in front of Yoongi. You were at work, and Yoongi found you in the breakroom? Gazing around once more you looked at the desk and read off the plaque on his desk. Min Yoongi CEO. Nausea filled you as your jaw unhinged. Yoongi—CEO Min Yoongi of MYG Technological Corps. You passed out in front of the CEO! The CEO! You began breathing in deeply as a slight panic set in. Oh god, you couldn't be here. You have never felt so utterly humiliated.

You got up and stumbled as you held onto the edge of the couch. You smoothed down your clothing and rapidly conveyed your emotions. “Thank you, Yoongi-I mean Mr. Min, uhm, thank you for…goodbye.”

His voice broke through, feeling the sudden rise in your heart rate. Your sudden behavior change surprised him. “Hey, what’s going on?”

When he realized you weren’t stopping. It was like a force unbeknownst existed physically pulled him up as he raced to the door. A throb began pulsing as you speed away from him. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, not again. He gently pushed the door closed as you tried opening it to leave.  “Wait, don’t go.”

You turned around and came face to face with Yoongi. Nose inches apart for a second before he backs away politely clearing his throat. He wasn’t weak to his instincts, he wasn’t. He asked, “Please, stay.”  

You avoid eye contact, hand still on the door handle. On a single exhale, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Sir. Again! Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m in your—your office! This is your office.” Taking your hand off the door handle for emphasis, you then point to his whole visage, ”You’re the CEO. I’m so, so, so, so sorry.” After your monologue, your out of breath and flushed.

The ticking of his clock is the only sound that accompanies your harsh breathing. He chuckles, which turns into a laugh. You curl in on yourself. He immediately corrects himself. “Excuse me, I’m not laughing at you. Your…your just too,” he pauses, wanting to use another word but settled for, “honest.”

It really would be great if the world would open up now. You could hear your heart in your ear. It took a second to remember he probably could too. He was a vampire; he could probably hear everything.  

It was odd, you had this power over him, the glow immediately diminishing and his eyes returned to brown. He realized how strong he must’ve been coming off. In a husky low voice, his eyes glowing again, “Stay Y/n. Stay and let me explain.”

Something was rooting you to the floor, you couldn’t explain it, but you wanted to listen. Your chest was rising and falling. “Okay.”

You followed him back to the couch as he sat across from you on the opposing couch. You couldn't believe it still, your receiver was your CEO. How had you not seen this earlier? Well, Yoon—Mr. Min never has shown himself publicly. He is anonymous to the public. Anonymous to the office—well you have only been working for a few months.  

Silence built between you both, you weren’t sure what he needed to explain. To him though, a full orchestra was playing, to his ears through your heartbeat was drumming. He was feeling overwhelmed with your sweet scent as it filled his office. The need to be near you was like an itch, but he purposefully sat across from you. The small taste of your blood, a droplet of a sample, had him fishing his pills out of the trash as soon as he laid you down on the couch. You, you made him weak.

You needed to know, “Why?”

He arched a brow, “Why what?”

You twiddled your thumbs, “Tell me you were the CEO. When I was donating you let me speak so openly to you. I'm sorry for speaking so out of term. I'll leave my resignation letter on my manager's desk by the end of the day."

He smiled. "Y/n." You wouldn't have to worry about your manager anymore anyways.

You looked at him finally. His eyes had returned to normalcy. The same pull you had felt the day you had met him pulled underneath your skin. Although, maybe you were mistaking it for nausea.

Sternly, "I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I don't let anyone know who I am beside the people closest to me. But I don't want you to resign. Stop apologizing."

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks. “Thank you Mr.Min.”

He chuckled, “Please, call me Yoongi.”

You nodded, although, it felt too informal now that you know who he truly is.

You swallowed hard, suddenly whispering, “Why’d you leave?”

His eyes widened, “You were being taken care of, there was no need for me to stay.”

In truth, he felt overwhelmed. For the first time in centuries since his turning, he felt overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to do, besides run. Run from the fact that you were his mate and he didn’t know how to handle that. He couldn’t articulate it fully, he felt it would be too much to drop on you that you were his mate. A human, you couldn’t understand. Yet, his body surely hasn’t forgotten, his senses surely haven’t that you’re his mate. The throbbing in his head was a constant reminder. Finally, it stopped with you, here in his office. You’re none the wiser about this, you don’t know anything about his kind. He can’t spring that onto you, you don’t know what it means.

“Oh.”

“Why’d you prick yourself?”

Your headshot up, a flush of heat traveling up your neck and steaming your brain. “I-I-,” you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. In a near mumble, “Iwantedtoprovetomyselfitisn’tabitdeal.”

He had exceptional hearing, but he couldn’t make anything you said out. You heavily sighed, taking a deep breath, “I,” licking your lips, “needed the extra money.” He couldn’t help following the motion. “I wanted to go to another clinic to donate.”

His eyes snap narrow in anger, no one, no other of his kind or human could touch you. No one should ever get to taste you besides him. Genuinely mad he commanded, “No.” You shrunk back into the chair, trembling a bit. He realized his mistake in predation taking a deep breath in. His limbs were vibrating as he stands up and paces for a bit. You rub your forearms unsure of what to do in this situation. He took a seat next to you. Feeling your warmth radiate from you just by sitting next to you calmed him a bit. “Do you realize what you’re going to do Y/n?”

You nodded not looking at him. You were unsure, but not uncomfortable. “Yes, I know, but what other choice do I have.”

He rubbed his palm together. “Let me make a deal with you Y/n.”

“A deal?”

“How about I help you overcome your fear?”

You quirked a brow then squinted at him. “What’s in it for you?”

"I don't want to see my employees seek work elsewhere."

Your face relayed you were unconvinced.

“If I help you overcome your fear, and if it’s successful, will you let me feed from you? If you are that adamant about donating again, then let me be your receiver.”

There it was, the catch.

You edged yourself to the corner of the couch, fully turning your body towards Yoongi. “That’s illegal! I can’t be your personal donor Yoongi.”

He smiled, “This isn’t a donor situation, simply I’m helping you overcome your fear of needles…just with my fangs. As a vicarious, non-intentional consequence, you may bleed and I will clean it, essentially feed, but that will be voluntary not by obligation.”

He could see your brain working a million miles per hour.

He tossed in, “I’ll consider this as a personal assistant job, the other portion of overcoming just subsidiary as it may possibly be beneficial on my end. So I’ll pay you well for the time you spend with me. You won’t ever have to go to a clinic again.”

You pondered for a moment; the deal seemed great. This was partially why you had started in the beginning, to challenge yourself. Well, bills were also great motivation. This was an answer to your problems. You oddly felt you could trust him. He had been nothing but assuring. Thinking it over, you were sure you had gone silent for at least five minutes.

“If you don’t want it, I understand." Although it ripped him to think about it, he didn't want you to feel trapped. He never wanted to push you. Even though he knew you were his mate, he wasn’t going to ever push you, but being close to you often would ease the headache and thirst. “We’ll figure something else out.”

You looked up, decidedly, “Okay. Teach me.”

Copyright 2020 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved. 6.3

[allforhader]

As The World Caves In

Barry Berkman x (F) Reader

Warnings: Langauge, Violence, TW: Abuse

“Alright that’s the end of acting class. See you next time” Gene ends the class as Barry instantly gets out of his seat grabbing his backpack and waiting for Y/N to simply walk by him. But at least she’s sweet enough to-

“Great work today Barry!” Y/N smiles happily at Barry before exiting the building.

Barry follows respectfully behind her as Nick and Jermaine walk beside him expecting to get drinks. When Barry suddenly stops outside they both bumped into each other watching Barry watch Y/N embrace a man who he thinks is her boyfriend. It’s most definitely the case when he sees the two kiss.

“Damn. We getting drinks or what?”

“Definitely” Barry replies to Jermaine as he pats his back. “Who’s uh. Designated driver?”

“It’s LA Barry. There’s Uber.” Nick laughs walking ahead of the two.

A few rounds later...

Barry was standing outside of the bar with Nick half-passed out on the curb propped up against Jermaine. They waited for their Uber, but the waiting seemed longer than usual.

“Hey, Barry sit down. It’s gonna be a while” Jermaine states as Barry sat down on the curb beside him. “You kept lookin at your phone when girls were tryin to get your attention”

“Hmmmmm he wants one girl” Nick laughs a bit. “Y/N~”

“Go back to sleep”

“Alrighty” Nick laughs a bit more before relaxing on Jermaine’s shoulder.

“What’s so interesting about her anyway?”

“So many things” Barry sighs holding his head down.

Jermaine looks at his friend confused on why he didn’t elaborate but they were all under the influence. Some more than others *cough* Nick *cough* but that’s the biggest reason why he didn’t elaborate that Y/N is the most beautiful talented girl he ever laid eyes on.

“I know the girl is taken. But you can still do a scene together that can make her realize” As the most sober compared to them all, Jermaine’s idea is only going to go downhill of some sorts. “Pick a scene with a kiss and do it with her. Any dedicated actor would do any scene. Despite their relationships off stage”

That could’ve been phrased better, but way to put that idea in Barry’s fucking head.

After finally getting to their apartment of sorts, Barry instantly laid on his bed and pulled up the messages to Y/N.

Barry: You are a god

Y/N: What?

Barry: A god at finding great scenes to do for class

Y/N: Oh! Thank you 🥰

Barry: I know I’m not very good

Barry: But I’d like to do a scene with you

Y/N: Barry! I’ve been waiting for you to ask!!! Plus you are really good! Better than me 😊 What scene would you like to do??

Shit. Think of a scene. FAST BARRY. FUCK

Barry: Um. Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 5?

Fucking Shakespeare?!?

Y/N: Give me a sec to look up the scene!

Barry: Ok

After a minute passed. Literally. A minute.

Y/N: I’d love to! Hell if we do a good job, maybe Mr. Cousineau would pick it for the next showcase he’s planning!

Y/N: Want to practice tomorrow? After class? I can print you a copy of the scene

Barry: Sounds good

Y/N: Yay! 😊

Y/N: See you tomorrow!

Barry: See you!

Y/N didn’t come to class the next day, which made Barry think he said something he shouldn’t have. But his texts were surprisingly not drunkly influenced for the most part.

“Okay class. Y/N called me saying she won’t be able to be here for the next few classes since something came up. Barry, pick another scene partner or a monologue before we share to pick for the showcase. NOW. Sally you have a monologue you’d like to run by us” Gene states as Sally got on stage to do her monologue but instead of paying attention Barry took his phone out thinking of messaging Y/N to ask what happened. But a part of him thought space was key.

After class, Sally grabbed Barry’s arm to catch his attention.

“Barry, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure?”

“So I need a ride to Y/N’s place. I have her address and everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah I can drive you” Is he going to know what happened along the way? She wouldn’t be going over there if she didn’t know.

The drive was far. Surprisingly further than all of their other friends. Note, Barry has at least driven everyone in their class somewhere at least twice. Usually because it’s expensive to get your car fixed let alone pay rent in LA. So it’s a coin toss and usually the car doesn’t win. Plus his source of income is...not acknowledge and he’s fine giving people rides. But Y/N lived really far in LA that he found himself heading somewhat close to Anaheim territory. Her neighborhood looked still typical LA agriculture and similar to few neighbors closer to the acting class. But when they were driving Sally did tell Barry that this is where Y/N’s boyfriend lives. So who the fuck knows where Y/N actually lives. To his knowledge.

“So Barry, I told her that you were driving me and that I didn’t tell you anything. But we’re here to pick her up then go back to my place. Are you okay with that drive?”

“Anything for the both of you. But I can’t help but be curious” Barry frowns watching Sally give a hesitant halt in what she was going to say but-

“I’m not comfortable sharing something that isn’t mine. She trusted me by telling me. I’m not going to play a game of telephone Barry”

“Okay...just do I go with you?”

“No I’ll go get her myself, just hang tight okay?”

“Okay” What the fuck did this guy do...

Barry waited in the car seeing Y/N step out with Sally, she looks fine for the most part. The closer she got he couldn’t really pin point anything. Just...the girl known to wear colorful clothing and mainly dresses, came out in sweatpants and a hoodie. Style doesn’t describe a person but it made Barry think about what caused a sudden change that isn’t just “to be comfortable”. Y/N sat in the back and Sally day with her.

“Your place right Sally?”

“Right” Sally says calmly setting Y/N bag by her feet.

After the long drive to Sally’s, Barry stayed in the car watching the two go inside. But before he left, Y/N ran over to the car knocking on Barry’s window. He quickly opens it as Y/N slips in a script she had packed before they came and got her.

“I-It’s a monologue for the showcase. S-Sorry I couldn’t do t-the scene with you. Hope this repays for that”

“You didn’t have to repay anything Y/N” Barry frowns watching Y/N pushes her hair out of her face making the man catch a glimpse of the shiner on her right eye that extends to her cheek as well.

“I wanted to Barry” Y/N states before going back inside.

Barry frowns and once she entered Sally’s place. A switch flipped in his head and he drove back to her boyfriend’s house waiting out there until he came home. Barry watches the light turn on inside the house and as he was about to reach for the gun in his glove box. He hesitated.

You don’t want to be defined that way anymore.

The hitman life will only continue if you do this.

You have the make the change.

Take the leap of faith.

Don’t let the past still define you Barry.

Find. A. Different. Way.

“Shit...” Barry frowns smacking the wheel holding his head down thinking. “He doesn’t deserve her...”

The next day came and Barry watches Sally walk into class alone. Where’s Y/N? Thought she stayed with her. He gets up from his seat sitting behind Sally.

“Hey...where’s Y/N?”

“She went back”

“What?”

“....She’s stupid. But aren’t we all? She went back during the middle of the night. I didn’t hear her leave” Sally frowns as Barry felt the fire start to burn again.

Find a different way

“FUCK” Barry exclaims catching everyone’s attention as he sinks into his seat. “Sorry”

“No! Use that energy. Come up here and show us what you got for the showcase” Gene states as Barry immediately regretted it.

Barry got up from his seat after taking out the monologue reading it’s from The Notebook. He laughs a bit to himself before looking out and seeing Y/N walk in in a turtle neck with a hoodie over it and makeup covering the bruises.

“That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the a—, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the a— thing.” Barry frowns looking at Y/N as the rest of the class grew intrigued.

“So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day. But I want you. Not for today, or next week, but forever.” He states stepping down from the stage glancing at the script making his way in Y/N’s direction. “Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be? If it’s with that guy, go. I lost you once. I suppose I can do it again. Just don’t take the easy way out. Answer one question for me. Forget about me and your fiancé and your parents for a minute. Forget about what you should do. What about you? What do you want?” Barry ended up in front of Y/N watching her hesitantly reach for him before retracting.

“Jesus CHRIST Barry!” Gene smiles proud of the man as he walks over to the two. “If you can be the closing to the showcase with that same amount of energy. Recruiters will definitely want to represent you!” he smiles watching Y/N retract herself a bit before getting an idea. “If it works best with Y/N on the stage. She can be there. Prove you’d be good with a partner even if it is a monologue.”

“If...that’s okay with you” Barry frowns looking Y/N as she nods agreeing to do so.

“Great! Now let’s go to the next person, better have that off script Barry!”

Barry frowns looking at Y/N as she just stares at him. She watches him reach to reassure but the automatic stepping back indicated she didn’t want to be touched. By any one for that matter.

When the class was over Barry stepped out carrying a weight on his chest wishing he can break a barrier and risk it all. But he didn’t want more people to get hurt and he didn’t want to disappear. Barry made his way toward his car about to get in when he felt a small hand grab his sleeve. He turns around locking eyes with Y/N as he of course stopped for her.

“...can um...s-shit”

“You need me?”

“yeah...”

“Just. Text me, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do” Barry says calmly as he connected the dots to why she’s wearing a turtle neck and her voice was low.

First stop was a pharmacy. Barry walked with her as Y/N grabbed what she needed. Ice pack, bandages, anti bacterial spray, and foundation. He felt very protective of her in the public scene thinking her “boyfriend” can pop up at any minute or really anybody would look at her a certain way and he’d want to kick their ass.

“can..I stay with you...B-Barry?” Y/N asks after she paid. She looks down at her feet for a moment thinking he’d say no when he obviously said it’s okay for her to stay with him.

“Um. I have roommates”

“That’s ok...I j-just...don’t need t...the lecture from S-Sally” Y/N frowns watching Barry hesitantly step closer to her afraid anything he’ll do she’ll feel uncomfortable. She looks up at him seeing the worry in his expression.

“Can you let me....take care of you?” Barry knows she won’t directly tell her what the asshole did. Barry expecting a no wasn’t coming from her. She nods watching Barry take her things to carry for her. “Just need to make...one more stop before we go to my place”

“Ok...”

Y/N found herself staying extremely close to Barry in the grocery store as he grabs what he needs to get. She watches around them having the same feeling Barry has except hers is fear driven.

“Broth?” Y/N asks picking up the carton from the cart.

“I’m not gonna give you straight broth if that’s what you’re thinking” Barry laughs a bit catching a smile from Y/N. “Even though I like straight broth” he states putting in a few seasoning in the cart. “Are you allergic to anything so I know not to get it?”

“No, you’re good” Y/N smiles making Barry feel a bit better but he still worried.

A few hours went by and Y/N found herself sitting on Barry’s bed staring down at her phone seeing texts from him and she immediately felt awful. Y/N started to cry thinking about what she’s gotten herself into because she was blind to it all until it got to this degree. The blame was definitely being put onto herself when no one sees it as her fault. Barry especially didn’t and all he wants to do is see her happy again. That smile of hers brightens his day...he misses it. Barry steps in carrying a bowl of soup he made, being in LA for some time you pick up at least ten minutes to watch cooking videos, and he immediately set the bowl and spoon on his desk before moving everything to the side of the bed and sitting in front of her. He didn’t want to pull her into his arms to comfort her but his presents was enough until Y/N grabbed his face resting her forehead against his. She continued to cry but it slowly burned into sniffling. He leans into it feeling her rub her thumbs against his cheeks taking a minute to take it all in.

He cares about you. He’s there for you right now and he always has been. Take a minute to appreciate what he’s doing. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere....

He’s dedicated to caring about you.

No more words were said that night between Barry and Y/N. Except when Barry wanted to see what he did because he knew Y/N couldn’t see most of the “damage” so he offered to help. He also carries quite the first aid kit with him since he used to get hurt a lot and Fuches was a terrible doc so he had to learn. Y/N took off her hoodie before hesitantly slipping off her turtle neck. Her arms instantly covered herself but once Barry got a look where everything is, he got up going into his dresser and grabbing one of his t-shirts having her wear it so she doesn’t have to sit in just a bra. He moved himself closure looking at most angles of the bruising as he goes into his first aid knowing she bought ice packs but those were ones that’ll take time in the freezer when he has ones you punch and it’ll take a little moment to get there but it’d be cold enough. He popped two of them, one for her neck and the other for her cheek. Y/N had a few bruises on her arms that weren’t as bad as the ones needing the ice packs, he mainly focused on disinfecting the scratches and putting bandaids on the few that need them. Barry watched her start to shake making his worry get worse as he took her hand carefully into his sitting it out with her.

After putting everything away and Y/N eating what he made for her...she took his bed as Barry laid on the floor. The two were awake the entire night and thinking about their own deals...

I love her

He cares about me

I don’t want to step over the line

Why couldn’t he be like Barry?

I risk my life every day...I don’t want her to get hurt by it if she becomes apart of it.

Barry Berkman...you truly do make me feel lucky to be alive.

When the day of the showcase came, Barry took his roommates advice to wear the part with a white button down tucked into his black slacks with a belt and shoes were just his pair of converse. He didn’t wear a tie but the first few buttons were unbutton and his sleeves were rolled up. Y/N was apart of his monologue, clearly with no lines, and she wore one of Barry’s long sleeves for the soul fact that she’s playing a love interest and on the other hand wants to be comfortable. His part was last and he waited behind stage with Y/N until their time to get on stage came. Barry watched Y/N check her phone every now and then watching her eyes trail from one thing to another as her tense expression said everything.

“Barry! Y/N! You’re up next. Be on deck” Sasha states to the two before going back to helping Nick out of his costume.

Barry looks at Y/N seeing her look up at him smiling a bit to reassure them both.

“You’ll do perfectly Barry”

“Y/N....”

“Hm-“

“ON DECK”

The two flinch to the yell before going to the deck staring at Natalie and Antonio get close to wrapping up. Barry quickly turns to Y/N and before he could say anything Y/N grabbed his collar pulling him down to her level kissing him suddenly. The startling factor being the tears that rolled down her cheeks during it. Barry frowns parting gently resting his hands on her face.

“YOU TWO ARE ON!” Sally pushes the two in when the lights were down.

Y/N stood on her mark staring at Barry’s back where he started before turning to the crowd wiping away the tears that shed but a figure in the crowd stung in her heart. She held her head down for a moment before bringing it up when the lights turned on and Barry turned to her.

“That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the a—, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the a— thing.” Barry states stepping forward and as he got closer to her his body retracted when she started crying. “So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day.....But I want you.” He says resting his hand on her cheek watching her ease into it.

“I-....” Y/N choked looking up at Barry seeing he’s meaning what he’s saying. For them. Not the scene.

“Not for today, or next week, but forever. Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be? If it’s with that guy, go. I lost you once. I suppose I can do it again. Just don’t take the easy way out. Answer one question for me. Forget about me and your fiancé and your parents for a minute. Forget about what you should do.” Barry states feeling her grab his shirt shaking right in front of him as the crying got heavier. “What about you? What do you want?” he whispers but the mic picked it up for everyone and before the lights went down, he presses his forehead against hers.

When the lights went off Barry pulls a bit away feeling Y/N grip onto his shirt for dear life. He looked out into the crowd watching the asshole stand up and he couldn’t take it.

Think of a different way. Fuck a different way.

When the students merged with the crowd, Barry immediately pushes her abusive boyfriend out into the open. Forcing him outside and before any of them said another word.

“Barry please—“ Y/N quickly caught up with the two staring at Barry look at him and the asshole. “Josh. Leave. Please just leave.”

“The fuck? I came to support you. But you went up with this guy? Are you cheating on me with this fucking asshat?” Josh got up in Barry’s face which wasn’t a good choice.

“I DIDNT ASK YOU TO COME” Y/N yells watching Josh push Barry only to make him retaliate the same way. “Barry please don’t do anything”

“Yeah. Listen to the fucking slu-“ before he could finish, Barry had head butted him in the face watching him stumble.

Y/N knew she could get in the crossfire but didn’t care as she tries to step in when Barry stepped in front of her when Josh grew infuriated immediately punching Barry in the face. But before he could retaliate, Nick and Antonio pulled him back as Sally and Sasha pulled Y/N into their embrace keeping her away from them.

“You gotta leave dude” Jermaine states to Josh as he gives Y/N an annoyed looked before looking back at Barry.

“Are you really fucking worth it? Or just an asshole like the rest of us” Josh states pushing Jermaine away from him before storming off tending to his broken nose.

Barry frowns relaxing so Nick and Antonio can let go of him. He adjusts himself before going back inside where Y/N quickly followed him. She grabs his arm forcing him to look at her when they were alone in a hallway.

“Why? Why did you...you didn’t have to”

“He shouldn’t have come..”

“I know but Barry—“

“That asshole doesn’t deserve you. He never did. You deserve so much better. I—FUCK” Barry frowns looking away to take a minute.

“Barry...”

“What?” He frowns looking at her watching embrace his arm being directly close. She looks up at him with a questionable look.

“You care about me....”

“There’s..so much more Y/N” Barry took his arm back to move his hands to her face locking eyes with the gorgeous woman in front of him. “I love you...I love you and it hurt me seeing what he did to you. All....all I want to do is protect you. Protect that smile of yours...only if you let me...and you did that night, but it started a hatred seeing him come tonight. He shouldn’t have come”

“I know...It was...a surprise to the both of us...” Y/N started to tear up again feeling Barry gently wipe them away with his thumbs. “You love me...? Even if...I’m broken goods?”

“You’re not broken goods Y/N...and if it takes a life time for me to show how worthy you are to me and everybody. Then I’m willing to take that time....because you mean the world to me”

“Oh Barry...” Y/N moves his hands off of her face bringing her arms around his neck hugging the tall man as Barry instantly wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her from the ground slightly. Holding her like his life depends on it digging his face into her shoulder. “You mean the world to me too....”

“I love you...I love you Y/N”

“I love you too Barry....”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Study Sessions

Calum’s always wanted to go back to school and it’s the first midterm that makes him realize just how long it’s been since he’s been in a class. Thankfully, Noa’s nice, albeit a little too organized, and more than happy to help. 

Who asked for a 21 page long fic about Calum, Valentine’s Day, smut, and poetry? Bc I got one hot off the presses. 

There is 18+ content in this fic. Please, no one under the age of 18 interacting or reading. Thank you!

You can support me on ko-fi. I’m saving up for graduate school.

____________________________________

Noa really wants to kick herself. She always left her pencil pouch in the front zipper of her backpack. Everything had a system; everything had a place with Noa. The placement of the full-length mirror in the corner of the dorm room, the cleaning supplies, the rotation of who cleaned what, making sure her books were always in the same spot, and always, always putting the pencil pouch in the front zipper of her backpack was important to Noa. She was sure it drove her roommate up the wall in their dorm room. But Brooklyn, Noa’s roommate, could be just as anal retentive about the trash and boxes from their addictive online shopping, and keeping the room free other people past 11 pm. Their crazies matched. So things worked out well. 

Maybe Noa was panicking a little too much about a pencil pouch. That didn’t really matter though. Her system was out of whack and she would have to backtrack to the science building on the other side of campus before making a loop and going to the library after class. Her printer refused to print properly and while it was annoying having to go to the library at the end of the day to type up and print out her notes to study later, it made catching group dinner with her friends easier on Thursday’s because she didn’t leave the west side of campus to go to her dorm. This did, however, mean that when Noa was going to get a lot more steps in today. Not bad, but not ideal. 

This also means that she’s going to have to use a laptop. She hated using her laptop because it meant she’d have to rewrite her notes so there were no gaps in her notebook. Noa could see that it was a very contrived system--at the end of the day, all she needed were the notes. That’s it. But it mattered to the deep recesses of her mind. It had to flow from handwritten notes to her laptop, no matter how she had to backtrack 

“Here, I have an extra.” 

Noa blinks at the hushed voice. A black pen slides in next to her open notebook. The hand is tan and tattooed. She knows those initials anywhere. Calum. She smiles and looks up to him, even if the shadows cover his face thanks to the bucket hat. It’s a staple she’s noticed over the course of the semester. “Thanks. Promise I won’t steal it,” Noa grins. 

Calum exhales his laughter. “I’d be a little upset but they are really good pens to write with. So I’d understand.”

“I’m a woman of my word, though. So you won’t have to chase me down.” Noa dates the top right corner of her blank page and then pulls out her book. She hates the book. She wasn’t able to get a copy to rent and had to kick out 50 bucks for the anthology for class, one she never really use again either. 

Calum gives a hum in response, his own pen twirling around his fingers. The professor, a man in his late sixties at the youngest, with thinning white hair and thick circular glasses walks in through the doors. There’s still five minutes before class starts and the chatter amongst students quiets just a little but doesn’t stop. Calum looks to her notebook, the way she’s written the poet’s name at the top of the page, her handwriting is tight together with a lot of width for each letter. It’s pretty with a little mess to it.  

He’s noticed that she normally uses purple ink for her notes and part of him feels bad for not having a purple pen for her. “Sorry it’s not a purple pen,” Calum states turning to face her. 

How the hell did Calum notice that? Sure she had a color for every class she took each semester. But surely no one else would’ve noticed that. It had only been three weeks of the semester. No one could’ve known that besides her group of friends and her roommate. “No, no, it’s okay. I forgot my pencil pouch in my last class so you really saved me from having to use my laptop.”

“Don’t like it?”

Noa shakes her head, feeling some of her Senegalese twists falling from the bun she put it up into on her walk across campus. Though this part of campus was walkable the heat of summer was dry and it took no prisoners some days. “I remember everything better if I write it down in my own words instead of just typing everything down the professor says. It’s like I’m not learning anything.”

He gives another nod. Though Calum studied for his high school diploma on some late nights, on tour buses, hell even in the studio, he liked sitting in class. He liked processing things and attempting to get the right words together to understand the core of things. He liked the sense of normalcy. It was nice to be learning not just from a textbook but from everyone else in the room. Sure this is just a poetry class, and sure he hadn’t really known what to expect with a title like “Modern Poetry from 1920” but he was straddled in and was surely going to see until the very end. 

Before Calum can respond, the professor clears their throat. He fishes his book out of his bag too and flips to the poems that he read the night before. “Hope everyone’s having a great day,” the professor starts. Even from the fifth row of the tiny room, Calum notices the shakes in the older man’s hands. The room is full of three to four gray rectangular tables pushed together to create rows. They sit two at each table comfortably. Each row sits about forty students comfortably. 

“A quick reminder, your first midterm is next week. All the poets we’ve discussed including today’s poet is going to be material that I will pull questions from. I’ll be providing the excerpts if a question calls for it. I’m saving about ten minutes at the end of class for us to discuss it more in-depth.” 

With a quick dab to the corners of his mouth, he finds a volunteer to read the first poem up for discussion. Once the first reading is concluded, the professor looks around for another person to read. Noa lifts her gaze and she locks eyes with the professor. A fucking rookie mistake. Something she knew better of in her eighteen years of being in school. But here she is making it. They smile at her and point at her. “Miss Noa, right? Why don’t you read for us?”

With a nervous habit of biting her pens, Noa puts Calum’s pen down and picks at her nails underneath the table. She nods and lets her eyes drift down to the page. “When over the flowery, sharp pasture’s/ edge, unseen, the salt ocean/lifts its form.” Her voice is a little shaky and though William Carlos Williams's poem is short, she becomes more confident by the end. 

Calum watches her reading more than he listens. In the three weeks classes have started, she’s never read. Neither has he. But it’s already a little awkward to walk around campus, being in a classroom isn’t too bad but it’s a confined space. He knows people are looking. He knows that they know who he is. He does what he can do just blend in and even hide. He likes listening to her reading. Her insights in class have always kind of blown Calum away too, now that he thinks about it. 

As discussion opens up, Calum finds himself taking fewer notes than usual and waiting for Noa to speak again. She doesn’t say much about the first poem but the second about the death of a cat she cuts in to make reference to Robert Frost’s poem. “I know there’s a literal connection of fire and ice in each poem but there’s death in both pieces too. Frost and Williams’ are on opposite ends of the same spectrum in a way. Williams is talking about fleas that couldn’t escape death and Frost mentions that nature is powerful that if it doesn’t take you with the sweeping fire then it will swallow you up with water. Williams's titled his piece, ‘Complete Destruction,’ and he details the destruction of a pet, of maybe even memories. While Frost is more metaphorical with some religious undertones too about the destruction of society and earth.”

Calum grins a little, watching the way she shrugs at the end of her thought. As much as if she weren’t so sure of herself. When she glances over to him, he nods at her, writing down a condensed version of her thought. The class goes on and the professor ends early like they stated. There are a few questions about the style of the midterm but not too many about the content. So the professor pulls up a small canvas bag. “Before you leave, feel free to grab a piece of candy. I know it’s Valentine’s Day and you guys may or may not still have classes after this. So I hope it helps your day just a little. I have chocolate and non-chocolate options.”

He upturns the bag gently, shaking the wrapped candies onto the table next to the podium. Laptops are shut, people get up to venture to the candy. Noa slides the black pen across the gray table to Calum. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Without much thinking, in the shuffle of packing up belongings, Noa lets what she intends to be just a thought fall over her lips. “I haven’t had a Valentine’s in so long, candy from a professor feels special,” she jokes. 

Calum laughs a little, pocketing the pens and stands. “What’s your poison?”

Noa looks up at him, the cut of his jaw and the soft smile on his lips, puffing out his cheeks. “I’m a dark chocolate fan. But anything chocolate is fine.”

He nods and shuffles, backpack thrown up over one shoulder. Calum gets to the table and picks up what he estimates to be the two biggest Hershey's kisses on the table. He picks up one for himself too. Noa finally gets her backpack zipped and she slides out from between the tables. Calum drops the kisses into her hands when she pauses at the door to the classroom. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Her heart shouldn’t flutter like it does when Calum smiles at her. She pulls the twists down and slips the silk tie around her wrist. “I’m sure you’ve got someone to get too. But thanks, though.”

Calum pushes open the door to the English building and holds it open for her. “See that’s where you might be a little wrong on your analysis.”

Noa scuffs, attempting to bite back the smile. The kiss doesn’t last long before she’s biting into the candy. She shakes her head. The joke is cheesy but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t like it. “I won’t be won over by academic pickup lines.”

They pause at the end of the pathway that leads up to the building. Students are carrying on around them, to and fro they scuttle across the asphalt and brick. “Do you have another class after this?” Calum asks. 

“No, it’s my last one of the day.”

“Since we’re both lonely on Valentine’s Day, do you mind if we study together? For the midterm? It would really seal our fates.”

Noa nods. Who is she to say no to Calum Hood? She could say no of course and it’s as the breeze kicks up another heavy and slightly stale pocket of hot air that she’s reminded of her misplaced pencil pouch. “Shit, I have to go to the science building. I left my pencil pouch there. I have no clue if there’s another class in there and like I need that.”

“I-I can walk with you. If you’d like. I don’t get to see much of the campus.” Calum keeps his schedule to Monday, Wednesday, Friday. He’s here from about eleven to four most days and then he heads back home. Hanging around campus would only serve to get Calum caught but he knows it might be awkward to offer his place to study. 

“Are you sure? It’s kind of far and I’m not a slow walker.”

Readjusting his hold on his strap, Calum nods. “Lead the way.”

Noa ties her hair back. “Less scenic route to get there. More scenic route on the way back.” When she steps, it’s more like a run. Noa cuts straight across, over the grass and dodging the bushes. Calum wasn’t sure what he was expecting but her power walking like his mother when they go to the grocery store wasn’t it. He keeps up though, regrettably passing by the dogs playing fetch without cooing at them. 

They cut behind buildings. A less-traveled path Calum can tell but it’s well known amongst though that have to use it to get to and from classes. He watches the others power walking past him and he’s glad he was able to keep most of his classes in buildings close together. Though parking was terrible and required him parking sometimes a block away, it was better than this walk, especially on the short time they had between classes. 

His thighs start to burn just a little when they reach the towering brick building. It looks almost like every other building on campus, minus the sign hammered into the ground--it’s the only thing that denotes its uniqueness. Noa takes the front stairs two at a time. “Holy shit, how do you do this every other day and still live?” he huffs once they enter. The lights are bright against the sterile white tiles and marble. Another marker, he notes, the older buildings on campus have dimmer light, less white. This has a more modern feel to it. 

“I don’t. I die about three minutes into the walk.”

He’s laughter leaves him in bursts, as he attempts to get his breathing back. Thankfully she stays on the first floor. Any more stairs and Calum’s sure he would’ve just opted to wait at the doors for her. The room she stops at does have some students piling in but she doesn’t stop for too long. When Noa ducks her head inside, she notices her pencil pouch sitting on a folding chair at the back of the lecture hall. Not where she left it. But she’s glad she doesn’t have to go sifting through some three hundred seats in the classroom. 

She’s quick to grab it. She can feel the eyes of the other students looking at her. Because she doesn’t raise a ruckus, the stares don’t last long and she closes the door quietly behind her. “You all good?” Calum asks. 

She holds the black pouch with roses up and grins. “All good. I just hope I didn’t kill you with that trek.”

He watches her slip into the front pocket. “I mean, I died about two minutes into it. But I’m okay now.”

Noa sucks on her teeth, a tsk falling over her lips. “Gotta keep at it. You’ll be a pro at it in no time. Is the library cool? Doubling seal our fates?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The walk back is less intense. They take the asphalt paths and go the long way around in front of buildings. They stop for a moment to just watch the dogs running on the green. They loop back around to the English building and continue on down past it. “So are you getting a degree or auditing classes?” Noa asks. 

“Auditing. I thought about going back full time but it works better for me to just audit them. The whole getting grading thing still kind of gets to me.” Calum likes to fulfill his curiosity. He just didn’t want the fear of failing to hinder him. And while he had loaded his schedule at nine credits, which was only three classes, it was more than enough. He was tempted to drop one of his classes and though Calum wasn’t super fond of the intro to psychology class, he wanted to tough it out. Prove to himself that he didn’t have to avoid the obstacle but could instead tackle it head-on.

Noa gives a hum. “Gives you time to still work on music?”

“Yeah.” He isn’t shocked that she knows. He is glad though that she doesn’t treat him differently. That she hasn’t made a huge deal of his fame. He wishes he could cloak that, at least here at school. “What about you? What are you studying?”

“I was Community Health Sciences. I switched to Public Affairs last year. So I have another semester tacked.”

The trek to the library feels somehow too short and too long at the same time. Calum’s sure it’s his thighs still angry at the stairs to get inside the science building. He learns she has an older brother and that’s she the first one in her family to go to college. She worries about the extra semester and the finances but her parents have encouraged her to keep going. Noa finds out that Calum has a dog and if he had to pick something to study it would probably be in English. He could see himself in Religious Studies. Calum’s not sure though and he’s glad he doesn’t have to be sure. He can just take whatever for the moment. 

Inside the library, Noa goes to make a beeline for the open computers and then stops. “We can book a study room? I’m not sure if you just want to be, like out in the open?”

Calum looks around. It’s nearing about 5 in the evening. No one is really in the library. Most people have plans. There’s no reason to sit inside the library on Valentine’s Day when one can drink in sorrows or be out celebrating. “Whichever you prefer.”

“Let’s just get a room. I doubt anyone’s going to be hanging out here on a day like this. But I doubt you’ll be back here at all. So why not go for the full experience? The only thing you're missing is final’s week and hunkering down in a study room where you pull an all-nighter and show up to your class in your pj’s and with your pillow in your backpack.”

He doesn’t want to believe that actually happens. But she says it so matter of factly. “You’re kidding right?”

“I am speaking from experience.” She walks one of the open computers and pulls out her laptop. She logs into both of them and then pulls up the scheduling system for the various study rooms located throughout the library. “We can only technically schedule in thirty-minute blocks for up to two hours. But there’s a trick around that.”

Calum logs in as he’s instructed to do on her laptop and they agree on a room. She books it, for every hour and when the blocks show up gray for Calum on his refresh, he goes in and books it for every half hour so that they have the room from 5 to 8. “So the library has pretty strict rules about noise. Generally, the higher the level you are the quieter you have to be. The second floor is as far as I go. You can talk inside the study rooms but nothing super chatty unlike the ground floor,” Noa explains on their ascent. “I have my notes from the other classes printed out. And I was going to type up the notes from today before working on a study guide. How does that sound?”

“Anything sounds good right about now because I literally have no clue how I’m supposed to study for this at all.”

Noa grins, cracking open the door to their room. It’s tucked towards the back of the floor, in a corner. It’s behind the bathrooms and not too far from the stairs so it’s not hard to navigate to and from for bathroom or snacks located in the vending machines on the first floor. “Trust me that’s my entire college experience. You kind of figure out what works best for you as you go along.”

The room isn’t big by any means. The white table sits in the middle of it with two trash cans near the door and a whiteboard that holds the left behind lettering of study sessions past is the complete setup, not including the four chairs pushed into the conference length table. Noa drops her bag into a chair and finds her pencil pouch, she pulls out a couple dry erase markers and an eraser in a plastic bag. 

“Do you want to write down the different poets we’ve studied on the board? Start there at the very least.” 

Calum, putting his bag down in the free chair, nods. It’s when he glances down at his phone just to check the time that he worries for a moment that he should get home to Duke but after shooting a quick text to his roommate he confirms that someone is there to take him out and feed him. Noa opens up her laptop, notebook and pulls the textbook out too from the depths of her backpack. 

Calum’s handwriting is mostly uppercase and narrow. But it’s mostly neat. The markers thankfully don’t squeak on the board. He draws columns for each poet, thinking that will at least help contain the guaranteed mess of ideas during this window. He even goes a step further and creates squares for each poem, scribbling down the titles into corners 

The room’s not even that hot, while Calum browsing through his notes. Noa’s been typing for a while since he finished setting up the drawing board. But suddenly from the walk around his jacket is too warm. He knew he shouldn’t have worn it but out of some sort of habit, out of routine, Calum snagged the extra layer and now he was regretting it. It’s like his body finally caught up and he slips out of it. 

“I thought we were studying, not getting a show,” Noa teases. The thought slips through her lips with a grin. She’ll admit that she does find Calum attractive. Most times he didn’t really flaunt his body or even his status in class and that made him even more attractive. But she didn’t think she’d ever have a shot. She didn’t really think she had one now all things considered but he was the one that asked her for help. But he had started it and she was just going to see if it would continue. 

Calum feels the heat immediately flooding his cheeks. “It’s just warm, is all.” 

“Kidding, sorry.” Her gaze flicks up from her screen. Her fingers are still going, the taps echoing amongst the silence of their room. 

Calum recognizes that gaze, the smirk that tells him she is joking, but she is also not joking if he’s willing to take that step. Calum goes back to his laptop, he’s on nothing right now just staring at a blank google doc. But he makes the initiative to break the tension and ask her what her school email was. “We can just use a Google doc to make things easier.”

As she rattles it off, Calum adds her. Maybe Noa completely misread this. Maybe he really only wanted to help to study. It definitely was a hit to her pride. She almost felt like a deflated balloon as she typed down the last bullet point in her notes. “I’m going to print these out. I’ll be right back.”

Calum nods, watching her leave with her laptop in hand. His brows knit together. She sounded hurt and Calum feels like he could absolutely kick himself. Of course, he found Noa attractive. He would’ve made a move and even though he wasn’t technically getting a grade for this midterm he wanted to at least feel confident going into. God, he was an idiot. Even after all the partying, and all the girls before, Calum still finds a way to fuck something up--even innocent flirty. 

Standing at the printer, Noa exhales. Just a hit to her pride, a hard hit too. But she wouldn’t chicken out. That’s for sure. She’d march back up there and she’d see this study session through. She could do that much. Maybe she could convince the girl to her left to switch seats come Monday. That way at the very least she wouldn’t feel awful going to class. She couldn’t drop the class now--not without a Withdraw showing up on her record. Professors weren’t too keen on adding students this late into the semester. Withdrawing, would thankfully, not hurt her graduation credit hours.

She almost wants to laugh. Just because some guy rejected her does not mean she had to drop a class. All she had to do was keep a level head about all of this. Even though asking to switch seats would be blasphemous, she still enjoyed the class. It was one of the few classes she could take each semester that were just for fun. She would not give that up just because Calum turned her down. As the last of the pages spits out from the printer, she grabs her stack. All she has to do is go over the notes. They don’t even have to stay in the room until 8. 

The stairwell is stuffy as she ascends back to the second floor. She’s always hated them in the summer, the way the air clung to the sweat and humidity of the temperatures outside. Noa wasn’t sure who designed it but it was only ever the library stairs that felt so awful in the summer and even the early fall. She can see Calum with his head in his hands from the glass walls that separate open library from the study room. For half a second, she wonders if something is wrong--like with his dog. If that were the case, he could’ve just left. 

“You alright?” she asks opening the door. 

Calum, not even hearing the door, pops his head up. His heart thunders in his chest. He was wallowing in his own misery a little too deeply. “Yeah-yeah, I’m good.”

With a nod, Noa pulls at the silk tie around her twist and stares up at the quadrants on the whiteboard. “So the best place to start studying is just as the beginning of the coursework. Lame I know. But professors usually start there for a reason.”

There goes his window. Gone all within two minutes to print notes. He nods and flips to the starting poet. “So we have Frost,” Calum starts, the blue dry erase marker semi firmly gripped between his fingers. 

“Start with basics. The year he was born, maybe what his life was like, his most famous works.” 

Calum spins his chair to face the whiteboard, attempting to recall some of the biography from memory. It’s when the lulls hit that Noa steps in. He hears the table creak but he doesn’t turn. He can almost feel her leaning into it. He can see just how the tops of her exposed thighs, not dared to be hidden by her denim shorts, would squeeze and smush against the end of the table. The weather is still warm. It’s still perfect weather for shorts and skirts. 

He turns his attention back to the task at hand though, listening to Noa speak behind him. “I’ve had this professor before. He’s a kind of lenient grader. But he wants to make sure you can back your shit up with context from the poem. You can’t say someone’s trying to talk about rainbows in their poem when they’re clearly allusions to chickens.”

Calum snorts at her point but nods. “Understood. Now this is going to sound dumb--”

Noa’s quick to cut him off. “No such thing as dumb questions.”

Calum turns, seeing her leaning on her hands on the table. One knee is resting on the chair she once sat. Her gaze is stuck on the whiteboard. For a brief second, Calum lets his gaze fall. The jade green of her top nestled against her dark skin and the way her breasts are almost threatening to spill over the flimsy material almost makes Calum forget his question. She was not wearing that before. She wore a white shirt, tied in the front. There was something green underneath it--he knows that. He clears his throat. “I assume you don’t mean illusions like magic tricks and I’m a little confused.”

Noa finally brings her gaze back down, pushing back upright realizing the position she’s in. “Allusions, they’re like indirect references. So you’re talking about a thing without actually stating what it is.” She picks up a different colored marker and writes the word down in the corner of the whiteboard not holding any information. 

Calum watches the way her undershirt rises a little as she stretches up to write but flicks his gaze to the floor. “Think he’ll ask about those on the midterm?”

“He could,” she says and then leans against the table again. Calum stands. She’s too close and he’s at a bad angle to keep his focus on the material at hand. 

Facing the spread of her notes, their laptops, and textbooks, Calum looks out over the sea without really seeing any of the details. He wants to make a move that shows he’s interested without it being too subtle or too brazen. Resting his weight onto his palms, he shakes the thought from his head. It’s probably too late now. “So, like, for example, a question could be what are allusions in whatever poem of his choice?”

“Yeah, but he’ll probably ask something more like compare and contrast.” Calum nods. He definitely feels a bit better about going into this exam than he did before. But he still feels like an idiot with Noa. 

Noa turns her head just a little. Not a lot. Just enough to see the bucket hat still on his head and the way his face is almost entirely hidden. She knows though. She knows the cut of his jaw and the way his lips are a little chapped but mostly plump. As she stares at him, she does feel the urge to apologize. At least just to let him know that she didn’t mean to cross any lines and that she hopes there are no hard feelings. She can feel her heart thumping in her throat as she gently rests a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sorry about earlier,” she whispers. His head never raises and she drops her touch before going back to the whiteboard. “That was a poor taste joke.”

Calum’s breath hitches. It catches right on his inhale and he nearly chokes on it. “You don’t have to apologize.” His voice is soft, so much so that she barely catches it before turning to grab her phone to take a picture of their notes on the board. 

“What?” She’s not believing her own ears. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I thought--I was sure I had crossed a line.”

“No, it didn’t make me uncomfortable.” His gaze is soft when it lands on her. Her brows are pulled together and he has to stop his hand from raising to smooth them over with his thumb. He feels the twitch, the pull to take her hand and he lets himself to that. Just gently brushing his fingers over her hand pressed into the table next to his. 

“But-what?” She could’ve sworn the way he diverted the topic was a sign that she was pressing her luck. 

“Really, I didn’t mind. I don’t mind.”

Noa shakes her head, the twist slipping over her shoulder a little. “I know I’m not a math major but this isn’t adding up.”

Calum really can’t tear his gaze away from her lips. They glisten a little, dark brown and a hint of pink from the saliva on her tongue as she licks them. It’s really lame, he thinks, that he’s this hesitant to make a move on her. But she hasn’t pulled away from him just yet so that must mean something. Maybe he could show her what he meant. “Is-Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Fuck. Oh fuck. Noa nods, she’s sure her eyes are blown wide. She’s not sure however that she’s breathing properly until the whisper of “Yes” falls from her lips. They inch closer together. Like stuttering traffic that stops and starts and soon there’s no more space to be hesitant. Their lips brush, slightly parted too. He can smell the chocolate she had earlier and it’s so sweet in his nose. Before the first kiss truly ends Calum reaches for her waist, turning her into him. He leans into the table, his back facing the door, and she leans into him. 

Her arms loop around his neck, nails trailing at the edge of his t-shirt and his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine when her nails scratch at his skin. Calum encases her waist with his arms, pulling her into him. Her kiss tastes like the Hershey kiss and her skin is so soft beneath his fingers. When he breathes in, his nostrils are lined with the smell of coconut. An intoxicating scent if he’s going to associate it with her at all. 

The sounds of their kisses, lips meeting and pulling apart before meeting again echo slightly around the room. She reaches up, pulling away from his lips just a little. Calum stretches out for her though, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth. She laughs, mostly from her chest before she gives in and recaptures his lips. 

His cologne isn’t too strong. It’s got a hint of musky to it with some more floral overtones and Noa thinks she has to figure out the exact scent because she would love to just bathe in it. She doesn’t stop her previous movements though and pulls the hat up. Calum ducks his face into her shoulder and chest. 

She didn’t expect a buzz cut but it looks good and she runs her hands over the back of his head. “Can’t kiss you if your face is buried in my shoulder.”

“But I can kiss you,” he counters, gently capturing the juncture of her neck and shoulder between his lips. The touch is so feather-light, almost as if her skin were made of glass. But it makes her hot and her heart strums steadily in her chest. It’s almost sad how the softest touch is turning her own. She’s glad for the moment Calum can’t see what effect this is having on her. It’s shameful how wet her underwear is. 

Noa lets her head go as Calum kisses across her throat too, his tongue trails after the places his lips have touched first. Her hair brushes over Calum’s fingers, as they start to travel down to her ass, cupping her over the denim shorts. They hardly do much to stop the imagination from running wild. His fingertips run across her skin, digging into the crevice between the line of her ass and the tops of her thighs. 

A moan escapes her. Noa doesn’t even feel the shame anymore. Not as her hand reaches between their bodies and trails up his chest. She cups his throat and pushes him up. His grin is lazy on his face, eyes heavy with lust. “So I see you really didn’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The vibrations of his voice tickle her palm but she doesn’t drop the hold and Calum doesn’t duck away from it. Would Noa let herself go? She could attempt to bring Calum back to her dorm though she’s not sure if Brooklyn is in the room. If so, that’s definitely an awkward shuffle to text Brooklyn and then walk all the way back to her room. 

She drops her hand from his throat, before running it up under his shirt. He tenses for a moment at her touch but grins. Noa decides not to think too much about where things go and where they wind up at the moment. Instead, she kisses at his neck, running her tongue over his adam’s apple. Calum has to bite his lip just a little to keep the groan from escaping him so loudly. He knows she knows just what she’s doing as her nail scratch at his lower abdomen right along the band of his boxer briefs.

“I have another question,” Calum asks, a soft sigh escaping his lips when she kisses up to his ear. 

“Which is?”

“I can only assume we’re not studying poetry anymore. But I just want to make sure it’s okay if I study your anatomy?”

Noa snorts, her laughter shaking her shoulders as she presses her face into Calum’s chest. “I told you I wouldn’t be won over by academic pick up lines but I’ll be damned if you don’t keep trying.”

“They seemed to work,” Calum takes the sides of her face into his hands. There’s still a grin on her face when she lets him pull her upwards a little. “Is that a yes though in all seriousness?”

“That’s a yes,” she sighs, enjoying the slight roughness at the tips of his fingers as he brushes them over her cheeks. 

“How likely are we to get caught in here?”

“If we don’t make too much noise, pretty low. I mean, who else is coming to the library on Valentine’s Day?”

Calum presses her in close before pushing up with his hips and spinning them around. He clears away a spot before hoisting her to the table. “I must admit, I like the sounds of those odds.”

Calum stands between her legs. She spies a set of chains around his neck and pulls them out, gently holding the gold and silver chains in her palms. She’s not sure what they mean, the symbols on the black enamel or the gold plate but they look good hanging around his chest. “Sentimental?”

Calum runs his fingers over the strip of skin just under the edge of her green tank top and the top of her shorts. “Yeah.”

The subject is dropped rather quickly and she kisses the underside of his jaw. Her fingers find the hem of Calum’s t-shirt. He pulls the black tee up without much thought and she lets her hands wander of the expanse of his chest. She lingers at his tattoos. She doesn’t question those either. Just admires them and the way the black ink stands out on his golden skin. There’s a moment, in the back of her mind, that she’s acutely aware of how much darker she is compared to him. It's a thing she’s always been aware of for sure, it’s a general fact about herself that is generally inescapable. But she’s not sure why it matters now. 

Calum can see her mind wandering and he tips her chin. “You can always say no. It’s okay.” He doesn’t want her to feel pressured. It won’t hurt him at all if she backs out of this. He’d rather her protect herself than worry about him. 

“It’s just--a thing, a small thing. Nothing to do about this.”

“You sure?” 

Noa nods, flicking her twists over her shoulder. Calum raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question. “I’m very sure,” she says, tugging at the band of his pants. 

There’s a soft chuckle he gives and nods, satisfied with her answer. “I was going to break out another taboo pickup line.”

Noa gets a grip around his neck and brings him down. Her kiss is soft and slow before she pulls back just a little. Their lips brush as she speaks. “As much as I hate those, they are effective. So I hate that fact a little more.”

Calum dares to bring his hands down, under the shorts and underwear. What he finds makes him groan into her lips. She’s dripping onto his fingers. “Very effective,” he whispers, teasing her heat with his fingers as he collects just a little taste of her onto his fingers. She watches through slightly hooded eyes as Calum licks his fingers. “God,” he huffs. 

He goes back to get yank the shorts and panties. She pushes herself up to assist and Calum wastes no time slipping down to his knees. Noa reclines back, hands pressing down into the table and the edge of a notebook. Calum takes a generous lick from her. She’s sweet on his tongue and all he wants is to drown in the arousal she drips. 

Noa shudders at the first touch and she’s glad she’s facing the whiteboard and not the window because the look on her face, of pleasure and also desperation is a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone. Her breakup sophomore year kind of scorned her. She’s had the offers at parties or even out at bars, but never took them. Right now, the way she’s responding to Calum should be embarrassing but it’s the last thought on her mind. 

All Noa wants and can think about is how Calum’s tongue flicks against her clit, the way his lips wrap around it to give it a gentle suck before planting a kiss. “Shit,” she heaves, trying to keep from being too loud. It’s not lost on her that too much noise will get them caught. But god is her rock shaking at the feeling of Calum’s tongue working at her. It’s going to be the end of her, she thinks, staring up at the ceiling attempting to keep her breathing under control. 

Calum feels her thighs starting to shake and he throws them over his shoulder. She falls deeper into her recline. Every lewd slurp echoes. The first finger into her is all too easy to get inside and he works the second one in while teasing her clit with his tongue. It’s a moment, with a breathy instruction of “Back and up,” before he’s brushing over her g-spot. Her vision spots for a moment and she presses her lips together to swallow down her own moan. 

“Fuck,” she whines when Calum sucks at her clit. The knot in her stomach grows, she can feel the heat radiating from the top of her head to her toes. She’s going to make a mess. She can feel it bubbling in her lower stomach but she can’t find the words to warn him as she works to keep her cries in her chest. 

It’s evident though when she finds the edge and falls over it. Her legs close in around Calum’s head. He works her through the orgasm, gentle licks. Calum kisses over her inner thighs before pulling his fingers from her. She’s spent above him, panting. But she stops him-- a hand tight around his wrist and brings his fingers to her mouth. 

“You wouldn’t?”

Noa says nothing before licking her own arousal from his fingers. Calum shouldn’t be so turned on by her tasting herself but he swears he could nearly come from just the way she hums around his digits. It makes him wonder for a moment what else she can do with that tongue. She grins when she releases his fingers from her mouth with a lewd pop. “I would.” 

Calum stays on his knees, watching carefully as she slips off the table and back into her underwear and shorts. She taps at the chair. “Take a seat.”

He pushes up and into the chair. “You really could’ve just left those off.”

Noa bites her lip at the thought. “Even though I’m young, I’m not dumb. I never re-upped on condoms in my backpack and unless you have some. I think you’ll be pleased with my compromise.”

Calum mimes zipping his lips shut and tossing away the key. He nearly forgot about that and that’s not a risk he wants to take either. No matter much the idea seems tempting he knows that the potential consequences are not worth it. Noa doesn’t waste any time, to tie her hair back or get Calum’s pants and underwear down either. She’s not really sure what she expected but he’s more than he lets on and her mouth drools at the thought. 

She kisses his tip, the tip leaking just a little. Calum sighs, dropping his head back on his neck. He doesn’t really want her to tease him like this. But it does feel good. How gentle she’s being. The way she’s slow to coat him with her saliva. He exhales harshly when he slips into her mouth and when she doesn’t stop but continues on Calum groans. “Fucking hell.” It’s as if she could just swallow him whole and her mouth is so warm too. 

Noa hums a little at the taste and weight of him. She looks at through her lashes and keeps her eyes nice and big, playing innocent at the way Calum huffs above her. He blinks his eyes just enough to see her batting her lashes and he’s so tempted again to pull out of her mouth and just fuck her right here. He’s sure her pussy is just as good as her mouth, if not better. Another moan is crawling up his chest and Calum inhales to keep it from falling over his lips. She pulls back from him, swirling her tongue just around the top. Her fist pumps at him. Calum knows he won’t last. His head is starting to float and he’s reaching out for anything and everything to keep ground. 

He finds Noa instead, the very thing lifting his consciousness from his body. But it’s all he has to attempt to ground him. Calum lets one choked moan fall over his lips. “God,” he heaves like he’s been underwater for too long and is getting the first gulps of air again. His eyes screw up as she takes him back down and bobs her head along his length. The sounds of her slurping up her excess saliva are a little loud but he prays that they don’t echo too much before he cums. 

That’s all he wants. Just release. That bliss of orgasm. His toes are curling and he’s holding a little tighter to Noa he knows. But he can’t help it. His hips raise up from the seat, bucking into her and she has to readjust her angle to keep him down. But Calum’s so fucking close. He can feel it. His thighs are tensing and he’s nearly in tears with how badly he desires to cum. She’s toying with him, speeding up to build up that pressure--that need, but slowing down just enough to keep it far enough away. 

“Oh, please, please,” he begs. There is definitely a prickle of tears. Noa knows she’s playing with fire but she pulls back one last time, watching the way his jaw tense and he hisses, the air sucked in between his teeth. “I wasn’t-I wasn't this mean to you.”

Noa winks at him. Calum knows he’s going to have to do something to wipe that smirk off her face somehow. “Wanted to see how much you could take.” She says nothing else and finally takes him back into her mouth, hand and mouth pumping at him. He goes barreling towards his orgasm. He halfway expects her to pull away again when he finds his hips bucking again but she doesn’t. Calum holds her head tight and pours down the back of her throat. 

Noa brings him over the edge and she’s gentle, slightly suckling to get down every drop. When she finally brings her head away, she does leave a small kiss. The air is thick and Calum exhales, attempting to bring his vision back into focus. He nearly has to make sure that it’s actually his soul that comes back to him. Noa hands him a tissue and then excuses herself for just a moment to the restroom. 

When she returns, the table is clearned for the most part. Her books are neatly stacked and her laptop is sitting on top of the sleeve. The dry erase markers and erasers sit at the top of her pile too. Calum is dressed again, leaning against the table with the bucket hat back on his head. He watches her open the door with a tiny smile. The whiteboard’s been erased too. “Did you get a picture of the--” Calum nods before she finishes the full question. 

She’s not sure if she should move from the spot at the door but Calum’s gaze is intense so she waits. “I’m not going to bite unless you ask for it,” he grins. “How far away do you stay from here?”

“I live on campus actually. It’s like a fifteen minute walk to the other side.”

“I’m parked not too far from the English building. How about a ride and a round two?”

“For studying poetry or anatomy?” There’s no hiding her grin as she asks the question. 

Calum’s impressed at the wit. “I would say, after what I’ve seen and tasted today, I would call it poetry.”

She has to cast her gaze down. Because if not, she’s going to explode at delivery of the compliment. “Just don’t make any joke about tasting desire twice or I might nickname you Frost and I don’t think you’d appreciate that.”

Calum laughs and reaches out a hand. She takes it, stepping into him. She gazes up, the shadow of the bucket hat making the moment seem more private. “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Of course you are.”

The ride over is nerve wrecking. But the gentle pressure of Calum’s hand on her thigh keeps her just enough on the string that it doesn’t matter. Brooklyn agrees to give her the room until 10. It’s a little after six currently. Plenty of time but still. It’s not fun being sexiled. Noa makes a mental note to grab a few snacks on her next grocery run as a thank you to Brooklyn. The AC blasting in Calum’s car is Noa’s saving grace. The slight chill is welcomed to the warmth still radiating from her body.

She directs him to turn right at the next intersection. “It’s pretty out here,” Calum notes. The buildings follow the same brick patterns as most other buildings on the campus. But there are some trees that stand tall and it feels a little cozy. Noa hums and she directs him down to a parking lot. It’s not that far down from her actual dorm. The walk feels longer though for Noa, feeling Calum right behind her.  Calum follows with quick glances the way her ass shakes a little with her gait. The shorts are definitely higher than they were before and he’s sure that was done purposefully. 

Noa fishes out her keys and swipes into the building before directing Calum up the flight of stairs on the side. Their shoes echo as they ascend. Her room is the first one once they step outside from the stairwell. “I apologize now if it’s a mess,” Noa says with her key in the door. She’s praying that Brooklyn’s side isn’t a disaster.

 Thankfully at the first crack, the room is cool and clean. She carries past one bed to the second pushed against the wall near the window. Calum notes the white and black comforter and the posters decorating her wall. There are string lights and after a moment they twinkle off the white plaster of the walls. 

“Putting on the full works, huh?” Calum drops his hat and bag next to her desk. They shed shoes. Her bed is raised so she pulls out a step stool. 

“Something like that.” 

Calum cups her jaw. “I’m flattered.” Their kisses are still heated but less desperate. Both of them are aware of what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Calum pulls at the knot of her white shirt and pushes it off her shoulders. Maybe it was a little insane. Maybe it was the fact that Calum was a little tired of being lonely on Valentine’s Day even though he hated the whole institution of the holiday.

Whatever it was that brought him here to peeling Noa out of her shirt and revealing her breasts to him didn’t really matter. Because he was okay with it. He cups one of her breasts, teasing the bud with his fingers and he kisses along her neck. He feels her heart races with his tongue. “Love it don’t you?” 

Noa hums, pulling around his shoulders. “Maybe.” 

He laughs into her skin. She climbs up onto the bed first and Calum sheds his shirt before climbing up behind her. On the corner of her desk near the bed, he spies the box of condoms. Multiple boxes actually. He reaches over her to one of them. He’s going to drag this out just to have her begging like she did with him. “This is quite the collection.”

Noa knows part of this is payback but she reaches up running her hands over his sides to get him to come back to her. Calum resists the temptation to look down and kiss her again. If she does all his resolve will break. He studies another box and she lifts her head from her pillow finding one of his nipples and sucking it into her mouth. Two can play this game. And Noa knows that while she’s aching for me, she might have a better chance of riding this game out than Calum. 

Calum drops his head for a moment, letting the electricity of her touch travel up his body. One hand creeps up to his crotch, putting just enough pressure onto his growing erection. He’s so fucking screwed. Noa kisses across his chest, soft ones that barely make contact with his skin. “I’m going to be giving a pop quiz about the varieties I have. So study up,” she jokes before pulling her hand away. 

His laughter is soft above her. “I won’t be won over by academic pickup lines.”

“You were being stubborn and I had to try something.”

“You teased me. Don’t dish out what you can’t handle.”

“I can handle plenty,” she retorts pushing at his shoulder. 

Calum straddles her lower legs, popping the button on her shorts yet again. “Is that so?” The question is punctuated by him pulling her shorts and panties off. His fingers waste no time to part her and circle her entrance. Her back sinks into the mattress and her hips rise. Calum catches the small hard exhale of all her air leaving her lungs. 

Calum hovers over her, one arm keeping his weight steady while he teases her. His lips brush over her jaw. “What was that?” His question is answered by a moan that falls over Noa’s throat. He kisses down her throat, sucking just a hair too hard at the thin skin. It doesn’t leave a bruise but when Calum pulls way, there’s a red spot for sure on her skin. 

Noa lets herself be consumed by the way his stubble scratches over her skin. Calum kisses down the valley of her breasts. His teeth graze over her nipples. Maybe he’s better at the game than she thought he was. She liked to think she was tough, but Noa knows deep down the softest touch can turn her into putty. She doesn’t find it within herself to care when he flicks her nipple with the tip of her tongue. 

Calum drinks in every sound. She sounds so good beneath him at the mercy of his whims. Though he knows he’s going to give in soon. Soon his own tough act will dissolve and all he’s want is her to be thoroughly fucked. Calum carries down her body, kissing over her stomach before finding her heat again. All it takes is one lick, bottom to the top and Noa shakes, her thighs quiver and Calum knows he has her. 

Her hands find his neck though. She pulls him up before pushing up and Calum falls into the mattress. She works his pants down and kisses over his thighs as she goes. Her teeth are sharp when she takes a bite, nothing too hard, but it’s enough. It’s enough for Calum to know she’s serious. He’s serious too. His arm hooks around her neck once the pants are fully disrobed. “Come here,” he murmurs and she settles on his lower torso. 

Noa could lose herself in Calum’s kisses and never want to find a map out. Calum traces at her skin with the tips of his fingers as if trying to etch the roadmap of her into his memory. Noa reaches behind and strokes Calum’s length, almost too leisurely, like she knows she can just take her time with him. He lets her too. What else does he have to lose? What else does Calum have to do on such a bullshit holiday than just having some fun?

He does enjoy that this isn’t rushed. He’s also glad he’s not tipsy and neither is she. There’s something about alcohol and sex that never quite worked for Calum, though he’ll admit to some days waking with hickeys and blaming the vodka almost immediately. He likes the intimacy that they share, as crazy as it sounds. Like the way Noa looks at him after they break away from a kiss. She doesn’t look crazed or greedy, her eyes cradle him almost. She traces over his tattoos. 

The questions linger on her lips. Like what does ‘Choose Life’ really mean to Calum? Who was Mali? To whom did those initials belong too? But Noa knew those were questions she couldn’t ask. And she kind of liked the mystery of it. She liked knowing Calum but not getting the full picture. She had the frame. She has the beautiful man in front of her but she didn’t have his mind. She saw bits of it in class for sure. When he finally decided to speak. But that was a piece that would always linger behind the curtain. 

It was still a game for sure. Calum giving away what he wanted to give of himself but keeping everything else. Noa knew better than to think she could win that game. She knew better than to assume she could even be a player. It seemed cliche to think that maybe just maybe she could be the one to change that. That had to be loneliness talking though. It always crept in on days like this. At least for the moment, she was having her own fun. 

Her own fun--that’s all she needs to focus on right now. Noa reaches across Calum’s body to her desk and he uses the moment to bring the nipple and even part of her tit into his mouth, to tease her for just a moment longer. She barely keeps her grip on the box of condoms at the shiver running through her body. “Fuck,” she breathes. 

Calum hums at the praise and pinches her right nipple between his fingers. “You know,” he starts, tracing the swell of her breast with his fingers. “You do this thing when you’re thinking, where you bit the inside of your lip and you kind of zone out.”

Why is Calum so fucking observant? Why did he have to go and say that? He was really digging her grave. He might as well go and build the casket for her too. “I’m not backing out of this.”

“I was just saying,” he hums. 

“When you’re thinking you tend to play with whatever is in your hands,” Noa returns and then glances down her nipple, the way his fingers roll it and pinch. A moan builds in her chest--she can feel it. Calum immediately pulls his hand away. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

The grin that takes over his face is shy. Noa kisses his nose before tearing a condom from it’s foiled package. “How about a ride?” she grins. 

Calum has to laugh at the smirk and corny joke. But he agrees. “I hope I’m tall enough for it.”

“More than tall enough,” she laughs, rolling the condom done him. It’s the first sink, the stretch that makes Noa’s eyes nearly roll back into her head. Calum finds her hips, exhaling hard too at the squeeze and warmth of her. 

“Fuck,” they both exhale. Her pace is slow to start but Calum brushes everything inside of her, even parts that she didn’t even know could be brushed. It’s a little painful but the adjustment happens and all Noa’s concerned with is watching Calum fall apart beneath her. His fingers curl into the fat and muscle of her hips and thighs. 

The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo about the room and Noa releases the hiss, the only thing she can do at the feeling of Calum buried so deep inside of her. It’s true bliss when her pace picks up and Calum watches her tits bounce in time. “Fuck, just like that,” he encourages. 

It’s not easy work Noa will admit but it’s rewarding to hear how strained Calum’s voice is. How much he’s tittering closer and closer to the edge. Calum brings his fingers to her clit and her yelp, part surprise, part an exhalation of arousal, he hums. “That what you needed? Just a little attention for a greedy clit?”

Noa sighs, holding herself upon his chest. “But you like it, don’t you? You’re coming to cum for me and my greedy clit, aren’t you?”

He is. Not right now, but soon. It’s creeping up on him and god, will it be sweet. He brings her head down to kiss her, to swallow down every filthy sound she makes and save it for later in his chest. Calum plants his feet into the mattress and meets her bounces with his own thrust. “Oh, shit,” she whines, her voice straining at the added sensation. Time starts to lose its grip. They are just feeling bodies. 

It’s soon her face down into the mattress though, curling the sheets into her fist as Calum drives into her. “God, please,” she groans, feeling the twinge of her orgasm knotting at her lower stomach. 

Calum brings her up, her back into his chest with a hand tucked around her throat. It’s not tight and soon it drops to her nipples again. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just you,” she exhales. “Just you, Calum.”

His fingers dance over her sex. She clenches once, a sign of the impending orgasm that will be crashing over it. Calum kisses along her shoulders and across her back, the twists in the way don’t even matter. Not when he can feel her occasional spasms. He’s not going to last much longer. But he wants to get her there first. With a little more pressure at her clit, Noa grabs Calum's thigh. Another whine falls over her throat and she again lacks the warning. 

She cums with a heavy grunt scratching over her throat. Calum bites down onto her shoulder. His orgasm follows soon after thanks to her spasms. After they clean up, she falls into her sheets and Calum lays for just a minute. Just to catch his breath and he traces over the still red marks of his teeth. “Is it too much if I offer to buy pizza?” Noa asks, curled up into his chest. “Does seal the fate on Valentine’s Day as well when you’re single?”

Calum laughs. “It’s definitely sealed the fate on many of them for me in the past. But I should probably get home. Be an adult, even if I don’t want to be.”

Noa nods. It’s a little awkward when Calum has to crawl over her to climb down off the bed but all she does is giggle before kissing his cheek. Calum finds his shirt and she tosses him his underwear from the sheets. “I should write a personal note to Calvin Klein for that underwear. Your ass is ten out ten in those.

Calum shakes his head, his laughter loud. “And out of them?”

“Seven out of ten.”

“I should be offended.”

Noa shrugs, holding the sheets to her chest. “Alas, you don’t seem to be though.”

With the bucket hat situated back over his head, Calum shrugs. “Guess I’m not if it’s coming from you. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

She nods. “Sure.” Calum’s hand doesn’t quite reach the door before she calls out her next question. “You remember how to get out of here right?”

“Something tells me it’s like the same way I came in? But I’m not too sure.”

“Smartass,” she grumbles. 

Calum chews on his lip for a moment to hide the smile. He was worried him leaving would be awkward. But he finds himself not wanting to go really. He thinks he could split a pizza with her. What would be the worst that would happen? But he doesn’t want to push any more boundaries or piss off her roommate.“Bye, Noa.”

“Bye, Calum.”

***********

Now Noa is definitely worried after not seeing Calum on Monday that he freaked out about their hookup. She didn’t have his number and emailing him was out of the question. Emailing wasn’t the format to have the ‘what-happened-and-why-are-you-avoiding-me’ conversation. Everything seemed fine when Calum left. He even sent a thank you email when she sent him the notes she typed up from their study session. He had included the blowing a kiss emoji. That had to mean something. It had to. Even Brooklyn said it meant something. Sure Brooklyn was no expert. But who sends that kind of emoji unless they mean something behind it?

Though when Monday rolled around, Calum wasn’t to be seen. Today was Wednesday, the day of their midterm. Noa books it from her class in the science building but because of some rain, there is a mud spot and she slips. She doesn’t fall, thankfully catching herself on the edge of the brick wall but she knows the feeling of her pants splitting literally anywhere. 

Her shirt is most definitely not long enough to cover it and she can’t be late for the exam. So she carries on, wishing she had grabbed an extra layer to help save her from the embarrassment. First Calum ghosts her and now her pants rip. Today’s really not her day. Not that she needed it to be her day, but she would’ve liked it. 

Taking a quick moment to assess the damage, Noa feels behind. The hole is mostly towards her inner thighs but it does gape a little to the back and she’s mortified that half her ass is hanging out. She hopes this is the icing on her cake. She’d really rather not have too much else to her shit cake. This was more than enough shit for any one particular day. 

Just a few minutes before class starts, she opens the door to the classroom. The professor stands at the podium, exam in hand. Her eyes scan the room briefly and there’s Calum. His head down and she’s sure that he had to have heard the door opening but he doesn’t look up. There’s nowhere else to sit either, except for her spot right next to him. And she’s not going to cause a scene on midterm day either. 

She’s careful as she sits, to avoid further splitting, and slips off her backpack. She keeps her back turned and fishes out a pen, black ink this time. Just as she faces forward, a Hershey’s kiss and peppermint are placed in front of her. Calum grins, pulling the wireless headphones from his ears. “My mum used to give me peppermints before a test. She said it was supposed to help. I don’t know the exact science.”

Maybe Calum didn’t hate her? It definitely is a shock for him to be talking so casually. She’s happy though. She’d rather not have to shun Calum. She liked his stupid ass jokes and maybe, just maybe, she was letting herself get a little too close. That was a disaster she’d deal with later though. “Were you sick on Monday or something?” Something was going around and if Calum had caught it, she did worry that she would too, 

He shakes his head. “A gig ran late Sunday. I just emailed my professors that I wouldn’t be able to come in on Monday. I realized I needed the notes from Monday but I didn’t want it to seem like I was just using you. So I’m sorry about you not hearing from me after I said I would.”

Noa reaches into her backpack and pulls out a small bag of peppermints. There was just a misunderstanding. She can handle that. “My mom used to say the same thing.” She situates the bag between them. “In case you need another one during the exam. Also, I can give you my number.”  She finds a scrap piece of paper and writes it down. Calum saves it fast and sends her a text too so she has his number. 

As the professor starts to hand out the exam, only a list of four questions of which they’ll pick two to respond too, Calum feels the slight jitters coming back. Noa notices and slides her piece of chocolate over to him. They lock gazes for a brief moment and smile, both reminded of the last time chocolate was involved. 

The questions aren’t too hard. The practice ones Noa came up with fall right in line with what she said the professor would ask. She finishes first between the two of them and leaves the bag of peppermints. Calum notices her awkward shuffle and the hole in her jeans. He can’t use his phone to tell her to wait up but he’s almost done himself. So he scribbles down the last few sentences for his question and quickly gathers his things. 

From the pocket of his backpack, he feels his phone vibrate. He hands over his exam and slips out of the front door. Noa’s not in sight so he digs out his phone, stepping out into the bright sunlight. She’s not even halfway down the path, stopped by someone else as they chat for a moment. He thinks it’s her roommate, she looks familiar and the two laugh before going their separate ways. 

“Noa,” Calum calls out to her and she turns. These stairs aren’t as steep and he’s quick to get down them. Calum reaches into his backpack, revealing a sweatshirt and hands over her bag peppermints. “You can use this until you get back to get new pants.”

“I have a meeting with my advisor and then a club meeting. I was just going to tell them I’ll be a few minutes late to our meeting.”

“No, no, keep it. It’s okay. I don’t want you to be late.”

“I won’t be able to get it back to you until Friday.”

“I could come to pick it up too before then?”

Noa knows that look, the glint in his eyes as she ties the sweatshirt around her waist. “My last class tomorrow ends at 2.”

“I’ll pick you up from class. Just text me the building. We can study. I heard it’s Valentine’s Day. 

“That’s about a week late.”

“I was always bad at math,” Calum jokes. “You think I should sign up for one next semester?” Noa laughs as she steps backward from Calum. Of course, he would make another joke. They get her every time too. “Is that a yes though?”

“That is a yes. To Thursday and to you needing a math class.”

“Ouch.” He holds a hand to his chest, faking pain.

She twirls before throwing a wave over her shoulder. “Bye, Calum.”

“Bye, Noa.” He wipes out his phone, watching her walk down the bricked over paths. Next time you don’t have to split your pants to get my attention. 

She stops and spins around, fingers flying over the keys. I can and will take this hoodie hostage. 

“That’s my favorite hoodie,” he shouts at her. 

“Not my problem, sweetheart.”

“It absolutely is your problem.”

“My problem is that I’m going to be late.” 

___________

Tagging: @irwinkitten @5-secondsofcolor @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @glitterlukey 

[lideria]

Give Me a Few. | Johnny

Request: hi hi can you write smtg with johnny? like anything hhhh im soft for the man

Author’s Note: I miss school. Yes, that might be a crime but hear me out: this quarantine’s got me missing school and having crises over assignments and quizzes and tests, which is crazy to me. So, this shall be a college fic.

Warnings: A few swear words and a little anxiety. English is my second language so there might be errors + my brain is pushing a writer’s block on me but I won’t let it so there might be some complications with the flow loves I’m sorry.

Word Count: 1.752 IT’S SHORT.

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you like squint really hard, college!au, platonicfriends!au

Hope everyone who reads it enjoys!! 💚Have a lovely time, and good night for me lol

“The fuck?”

Johnny’s head bolts up at the frustrated question. He sees you hunched over the printed papers with your mechanical pencil in your hand and your phone in the other, scrunched eyebrows looking at the white surface scribbled all over with equations and formulas. The desk has eraser dust all over it, all from the past few hours of tussling with questions he thought must simply be too difficult. “That doesn’t make any sense, you sure that’s right?”

He can hear the faint “Dude yes, I used the calculator.” of your friend on the other end of the line, and sees your hand spring up to your temple, rubbing the spot as you let out a sigh. Shortly after, though, the mechanical pen comes back in contact with the paper. “Okay okay. Just guide me through that one more time please.”

Your friend cleans their throat so clearly Johnny can hear it, and with that he returns to his own share of notes. He is much more relaxed than you are since he has left his fair share of difficult examinations behind, and although he has a lot more memorizing to do still, it is whatever. Just two more to go.

It takes a few minutes for your friend to go over everything they had just told you, with you writing the formulas and equations down step by step, circling the ones you deemed important. You thank your friend for helping before hanging up.

Which is when the mechanical pencil is thrown out of your hand and onto the desk. “I’m gonna fail this final so bad,” You whine out. “Why make the course mandatory if half the faculty doesn’t even get it?” Leaned back on the chair, you rub your eyes with your fists. There is nothing more you want other than being done with the finals already and to never have to be acquainted with this course ever again— but you also have to pass it in order for that to become true.

“Should I just help?” Johnny suggests, his own studies long forgotten at that point. Not that he had been doing a particularly good job at focusing on them.

He sees you hunch back over the desk, looking at him with your hands tiredly placed on your cheeks. “Hasn’t it been like.. 2 semesters since you’ve taken this? Plus, you have a test tomorrow.”

Johnny clicks his tongue. “It’s history anyway— I couldn’t care less, it’s easy. Multiple choice.” Shutting his notebook close (which still amazes you how he can take notes by hand of a class like history where it is dominantly lecture material that matters), he stands up and instead takes a seat on the chair beside yours. “I’d rather struggle with formulas than read about every revolution there ever was.”

“Easy to say when you ace tests without studying for them.” You mumble, which makes Johnny smile. He could not protest that because it was true. He was a good listener during class, which helped him tons with assignments, which in turn helped him not forget the class material. The only type of courses that truly got to him were the ones where most things are dependent on discussions, arguments or debates where he needed to improvise. Not because he is bad at any of them, just because he is the type to take problems more subjectively rather than objectively.

Johnny tells you to take a breather for a few minutes while he tries to get what is going on in the question. You see this as an opportunity to take a few sips from your sugary drink that is supposed to get you through this night’s study session that is sure to become an all nighter considering you still have a couple of pages to work out. Then you check your phone, scrolling through your social media for a little, until Johnny’s hand lightly lands on your forearm. “I think I figured it out.”

“You did?” The question sounds more hopeful than it should have. “Mhm,” His eyes land on your phone momentarily before he continues speaking. “Let’s have dinner first, though.”

For you to agree he almost has to literally drag you outside of the study room the two of you had occupied, but he manages to bring you out by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and waddling his way out until the door closes and locks behind you. The two of you then make your way to the cafeteria just because you could not be bothered with making any food or asking for delivery.

While you eat, Johnny tells you he is almost sure you could not get the question because your brain was fried rather than being unable to do it. Although not knowing if it is true or not you are thankful that he says it, because it gives you a motivational boost.

Both because you are hungry and because you really need all the studying you can get, you hurry up eating— barely even tasting the food before you leave to get back to the study room.

When you are back both of you immediately go back to your seats, putting your phones on flight mode before abandoning them at the far end of the desk. Johnny takes your mechanical pencil and eraser, erasing your jotted answer before starting to re-read and rephrase the question for you. He writes down the answer step by step, making sure you truly understand everything and stopping when you need to get your head wrapped on some things.

And when he erases his writings so you can write the answer down, he gives you encouraging pats on your shoulder, letting his hand rest there as a reminder that he is there if you need to ask something.

At some point he places his chin on your shoulder as well to watch you. Not you writing your answer down, but you. “You’re being annoying right now.” You mumble, to which he chuckles slightly. “Am I?”

“You are,” Confirming the statement, you tap down at the desk. “Just look. I got the right answer this time.”

He does. The smile that spreads across his face soon after he does so makes you proud. “See, I told you it was only your overworked brain.”

With a roll of your eyes you thank him, before turning back to the many practice questions that awaited you. The questions start coming as a breeze for the first couple of hours as you gather help from your textbooks with your freshened mind. Johnny starts to play one of his many playlists with chill songs on it, reaching out for his phone to do it before also reaching out for his notebook and highlighters, returning to history out of the sheer fact that it would make him feel better if he studied while you were.

The music in the background provides a nice ambiance in the room, much more lighthearted and relaxed than how it has been for the whole study session so far. Johnny and you take turns leaving the room to walk around, partly to get some exercise and partly to delay the point where you would get sleepy.

The night seems to go by faster after you start studying for the second time. And surely after some time, you had to start leaving the study room not for short walks, but to wash your face in order to stay awake.

Letters slowly start to form a gibberish language in your mind, numbers becoming a jumble of weird lines and strokes. What really breaks all that you have left of wakefulness, though, is when Johnny starts softly humming to the songs on his never-ending playlist.

His voice is deep and strains when he is using such a low tone to hum to the songs, but it is still quite the attention catcher. You cannot help but start listening to him, and you certainly cannot help your hand that trails off of the practice questions. Within a few songs’ time, your eyes get droopy and your world gets droopy, too. But you honestly try to fight off the sleep.

Yet, sleep is much stronger than whatever is keeping you awake.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” The announcement comes as a surprise even to you, but you reach out for your bag and drag it until it is in front of you on the desk. “What’re you doing?”  Johnny throws a soft yet questioning look at you even though it must be obvious what you are doing. “I’m gonna use it as a pillow.”

“Just lay your head on my arm,” He says as if it is nothing, and shrugs a little when you look at him with your own pair of questioning eyes. “My cardigan’s thick and soft enough to be comfortable for both you and me.”

You smile at him, and pull your bag full of books and binders aside. Reaching out for his left arm, you hold his hand lightly— even though he is fully capable of lifting his forearm to place it in front of you— and drag his arm to the space previously occupied by your bag. He returns to his notes, unbothered, and gets back to humming along to the songs.

When you place your head on his forearm you smile at the scent of his cardigan, the scent of the coffee he had had before you started studying still embedded into the fabric.

You shut your eyes that do not have the motivation to fight off the sweet invitation of sleep. And if anybody ever asked you, you would say you fell asleep before Johnny finished the line he was humming to.

And if anybody ever asked you, it was the one of the best (and deepest) sleeps you had; your face engulfed in him and his cardigan’s warmth, your arms closed around his forearm, hunched over the desk in a position that is surely going to ache your back— until there is a scratch at the top of your head and through your hair. “Hm?”

“An hour’s passed.” He whispers, his hand still in your hair. You draw his arm closer to you, nuzzling your face into the fabric. You were not the one with a test tomorrow, and you were surely not the one with a test tomorrow that you could ace with your eyes closed. “Gimme 15 minutes.”

You hear him laugh. “Okay, big baby.”

[steve-rogers-new-york]

August

Warmest greeting my sweet, soft snickerdoodles <3

Last Month — July

What a shock! Last month I got up-to-date on all my physical perks, posted all my scheduled posts, and made great headway on one of my long-term, major-massive-huge projects for the blog. So progress. So success. So respectable adult! It was so cool to post two posts I had been looking forward to: The US flag one and the Dip Pen’s post :D I hope you guys enjoyed them! I also revived our old love: Recipe Wednesday! I’ll try my best to keep them up.

The aforementioned mega-huge-totally-all-the-work project is an extensive list of period accurate slang terms. If you’ve been with me a while you may know I have a gorgeous 720-page dictionary of slang (”The Concise New Partridge Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English”) that is a beloved fixture of my small SRNY-related bookshelf. I have been, for a while, going through and compiling a list of terms that are historically-accurate language that would relate to both our boys, as well as Steve’s mother, Peggy, and the other Commandos. It really is a long-term project, and I am only just finishing up the C’s, but when I’m done, I’ll have the full list available to everyone for fic (and other) reference, as well as a series of themed posts!

Aside from posts, I have been trying to be more sociable. I’ve been semi-active on the Put on the Suit Stony Discord server, so if you see me (Owlish Fun) over there say hi <3 I’ve really enjoyed chatting with peeps over there about fic and cannon, and you know, whatever. And obv, I’m still loving the SRNY Discord, we’ve getting some new members recently and we’ve been having some great research-related chats!

Upcoming Posts — August+

August is a little behind on the post due to some health issues I’ve been having the last couple of week (see later in this post), so I might not get as much up this month as I would like :( I alway have a number of projects on the go, so below are some you can expect to see in the next month or so:

Asthma Cigarettes — Part of Patreon Ephemera Club Perk

Art Deco (art, furniture, architecture etc — on special request)

More Recipe Wednesday!

Coney Island’s Thunderbolt — Part of Patreon Ephemera Club Perk (late)

More 1920s-1940s slang

August Ephemera Club Perks (Patreon)

This month’s perk theme is medications, and will include...

ONE box for "Dr. Guild's Green Mountain Asthmatic Cigarettes" and TWO matchbooks featuring advertisements for medicines available during this time period! I was so excited when I found these boxes, and I’m really excited to share them with your guys! They have all the directions and commentary for the products, as well as price. I still have two more sets of these items for new subscribers in August, so if you would like to receive your own and support the blog, you can join the Ephemera Club tier over on the Patreon!

What’s Up with Me

So, as you may already know from my earlier post, I’ve been dealing with a rather persistent ear infection this past couple of weeks. Not only is it really painful and annoying, it also makes is nearly impossible to focus properly. As such, I’ve pretty much been unable to work on the blog for more than short bursts, and I’ve not written anything new in a while. I’m trying to be productive despite this, doing some clean-up of existing research notes and minor additions. Mostly, I’ve been working on the aforementioned vocab list of slang-terms from my dictionary. It’s just absent minded enough I can do it without too much trouble. I’ve actually made great progress actually, finishing the B’s and soon the C’s! I’m new about 1/4 the way through the dictionary! Very excite.

So yeah, I’m still under the weather. Most of the stronger pain is going thanks to a course of antibiotics, bit I’ve still only got about 20% hearing in that ear, near-constant ringing, regular discomfort and with occasional stabbing pain, and just generally feeling off thanks to having a problem ear. I guess the good news is that two doctors have said their pretty confident I don’t have COVID, so joy? It’s not fun guys — 0/10, would not recommend.

Beyond all that, I also moved at the beginning of this month, and how is that not the biggest news I have?? Dang health. I actually just moved (quite literally) around the corner from my other place, so with the help of my old housemate the move was quick and easy. The house is lovely, my new human housemate is great, and my new feline housemates are good company, if crafty and mischievous. Only downside is that I am allergic to cats xD Not extremely, but i get all-day sniffles if I don’t take antihistamine daily. Totally worth it.

August is a bit of hurry-up-and-wait. I start my Masters programme next months, and nearly everything is sorted by this point. I was lucky enough to be in a small programme so I got into all my first choice courses (enrolment was at 6am on the the day I moved, such fun!). This week I’ve been giving my credit card a work-out getting supplies so I’m ready for courses, including notebooks and other stationery products. I’m pretty picky about notebooks, so it took a month to finally settle on which ones I wanted to get. I might be mad.

I guess the last life note to make is the fun mid-point I’m occupying between intentional deluded calm and constant panic over my finances. I’ve been luck enough to live in a country that is providing financial support for those effected by COVID, so I have been receiving financial aid from the Canadian government since March. However, it’s going to be coming to an end soon, and with me starting a Masters degree in Sept, and my job still not really existing because of the pandemic (I work in tourism), it’s unclear what I’m doing for money come October. I have a line-of-credit set up to cover rent/food should it come down to it, if I cannot get any government assistance and my job continues to be unable to get my work. But that will just add to future Me’s debt coming out of my Masters, and a course I’m trying to avoid. I wasn’t able to get any scholarships this year, which was a huge let-down, as I had the academic clout that should have made me a shoe-in. While it is weighing on me, there is only so much I can do about it, so I’m keeping positive and know I have the worst-case safety-net of credit if it comes to it. In the meantime, I’m working on framing some vintage prints and comic book covers to offer on Etsy — something I’ve been wanting to do for a while but kept putting off. They’ll be items at a higher sell price and hopefully will bring in a little more income from the store. I’m also looking for suggestions on what other things people would like to get out of the Patreon, things that might make it more appealing for new and existing Patrons. I have recently added a Patrons-Only perk of a Masterlist of and access to my full research notes for existing and un-finished blog topics.

Ugh, this personal section won’t be this long in future, It’s just been a very eventful month so far. Love you guys, D.

[ Support SRNY through Patreon and Ko-Fi ] And join us on Discord for fun conversation! I also have an Etsy with upcycled nerdy crafts

[lamesiscanon]

lily + james if there wasn’t a war? (if you like

YES. Seren I’d literally do anything for you ((Though I am a fool, I thought I posted this a week ago and logged into my computer today to find it waiting so please forgive the tardiness))

     At the beginning of the summer holidays, Petunia had reluctantly approached Lily with the invitation to spend the rest of the warmest months with Vernon and their parents on a trip to Spain with Vernon’s family. It was some dumb plan of Petunia’s to get the families closer together, before the wedding next year that would most likely result in some bullshit conversations that would be too safe and not at all interesting. Or worse, she knew she’d have to keep up some lie about her “private boarding school for troubled youth”. And so no matter the amount of begging her parents had resorted themselves to, to get her to come along, Lily’s response was an easy Hell No. 

Consequently, her parents were never going to let her stay home alone for two and a half months, so she was arranged to stay with the Lupins. It was the best thing to ever happen to her, until James Potter found out. 

The mind of James Potter was able to come up with many excuses as to why he was constantly visiting the Lupin cottage, and increasingly become more and more ridiculous. 

“Remus! I need that book you promised to let me borrow.” 

“Remus, I am here to plan a prank against Peter. He sent me explosive confetti in the mail.” 

“Remus, I need the stitching repair charm. Padfoot chewed up all of mum’s pillows.”

“Remus, I need your help with this job application, I’m having a hard time understanding what they’re asking for here.”

“Remus, I need you to help me shop for an outfit to Alice’s wedding.”

Each time James popped in through the floo, or crash landed in Hope’s tomatoes, Remus invited him to stay and go to town with them, or hang by the pond. Lily tried her best to not act annoyed. 

It was obvious James was coming just to see her, no matter how brief. And it was obvious how he was much less subtle about his liking her, after finding her notebook in potions at the end of term and seeing that her last page included his name along with various attributes she and her friends “liked” about him. Yes, it was childish. Yes, it was the most embarrassing moment of her life when he returned her notebook. 

Lily only had her Head Girl badge to blame, since it matched along with James’ Head Boy one and they had been forced to spend more time together during their last year at Hogwarts. It made her notice that he wasn’t just some immature boy. He was a kind, cute, and talented young man, and Merlin, Lily hated to admit it. 

Now, however, as she read her book and listened to the storm, Lily had to strongly disagree with Mary and how she wrote “fashionable” when asked to describe James Potter. Her opinions were backed up by the bag of pink shirts he had slung over his arm as he walked in through the front door. The bag of horrid pink most likely had to do with his daily excuse to see Lily.

“Remus! I found some of your things in my trunk!” 

Lily set down in her book, and looked at James with mild annoyance. 

“Do you ever knock?” 

“I don’t need to. Hope and Lyall have made it known their house is open to all.” Though, his clothes were soaking from flying, and he dripped water all over the cottage.

“Well, I can’t believe graduation was three weeks ago and you waited until now to unpack your trunk.” Lily cringed on the inside, knowing at this point she was trying too hard to be annoyed and disinterested. 

“I didn’t wait three weeks, I unpacked two weeks ago but just now remembered to return these. I just barely gave Sirius his Robert Plant posters back.” James said, taking off his shoes and flying gloves, before carrying his bag onto the lounge chair across from Lily.

“Robert Plant? Are these posters for Sirius’ hair aspiration, or fantasy boyfriend material?” 

“It’s most likely an equal mix of both.”

Remus came into the room then, asking about the stuff he left in James’ trunk, until he saw the bag of pink.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Your Madam Pudifoot’s merchandise!” James pulled out a shirt with the words “Love is the way” printed on the back. 

“I don’t own any merch. This is all your-”

“Now, Remus, there’s no need to be embarrassed about your interests.” James looked at him pointedly, and Remus sighed in defeat. 

“The things I do for you.” Remus muttered, as he shook his head. James mouthed a ‘thank you’ in return, before turning back to the bag.

“AHA! And here’s your hat!” James draped the shirt over Remus’ shoulder and put the pink bucket hat on his head. Remus looked close to punching him. 

Lily couldn’t help but laugh loudly, and the look Remus gave her only made her laugh harder. Poor Remus, he needed to be put out of his misery. 

Lily got up from her spot on the couch and walked over the bag herself. Inside, she found many fabrics of pink and purple, and even some with feathers. The first thing she pulled out was a shirt with a much brighter, atrocious shade of pink than the last, with hearts and the Madam Puddifoot logo.

“No, I think Remus is right. I was working the day James bought this. Though, I never would have thought he’d be buying it for himself.” Lily turned to face the two boys, grinning wildly and holding the shirt up against her. “Besides, Remus’ merch of choice is Celestina Warbeck pajamas.” 

If Lily had a camera, she’d take a picture of both their blushes and keep it in her room forever. There was no greater feeling, Lily decided, than the feeling of knowing she caught James in his act. 

“Yet, I have to admit. This is an excellent choice of pink, Potter. I can see it really clashes with the hair.” She held the shirt out in front of him, faux contemplation all over her face. She was really enjoying this. 

“Oh, do you mean the hair that ‘looks so soft you could run your fingers through it’? Or did you write the part about how good it looks during quidditch?” 

Now it was Lily’s turn to blush, knowing he was referring to the things written in Lily’s notebook. Seeing how the tables had turned, James was back to all confidence and esteem, as if he hadn’t just been exposed and embarrassed.

“Your clearly imagining things, the only thing I wrote about you was how difficult it must be for you to get through doorways with that incredibly big head of yours!” Lily was a great liar, but she knew already. She knew James read everything on that page. 

“Oh, that’s right! Now I remember! Just below that bit was the part about how hot the ‘post-sex’ nature of my hair is.” James stepped closer to her, pink t-shirts and Remus forgotten. “In your same handwriting.”

“The only reason my handwriting is so recognizable to you is because you spent weeks in third year copying it and writing love letters to yourself, pretending they were from me.”

James’ grin fell, and he took a step back before turning an accusing glare at Remus. 

“I wonder how you found out about that.” 

Remus did his best to shrug innocently, barely controlling his laughter as he made his escape out of the room and up the stairs. They listened together as the muffled guffaws of laughter leaked through the ceiling’s boards.

“Well,” James began, trying to break the silence “I think my head just got deflated quite a bit.” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, and he avoided eye contact by staring at his shoes.

“It’s a good thing to have your ego taken back down every now and then.” Lily agreed. 

“Although it sucks to happen,” James admitted “I guess we’ve both done some... very embarrassing things in the past.”

They could still hear Remus laughing upstairs.

“I think...” Lily drifted off, swallowing hard and begging herself to gather up the courage. “I think a deflated head is all it would take for me to say ‘yes’ to a date with you. You know, if you’d ever ask.” 

James snapped his head up, and it made Lily wish he hadn’t. His eyes were too intense, and she blushed remembering she wrote something about how she could stare at them all day. She wanted to drown knowing James also read this.

“You r- you wha- Really?”

Lily shrugged, still holding the pink shirt as she turned to sit back down on the couch. 

“Well then, please excuse me for a minute.” 

Lily’s brows furrowed in confusion as James rushed out of the room and into the kitchen. After a couple minutes of drawers opening and closing, she heard his footsteps on the stairs, then heard James talking to Remus, and finally, his footsteps came back down the stairs and he was in the room again. Though, this time he had flowers in one hand, and chocolate in the other. The flowers were dripping water on the floor, like his clothes had earlier and it made Lily laugh. 

“Did you seriously take those out of Mrs. Lupin’s vase? And did you take Remus’ chocolate?” She was laughing again, clutching her stomach as James stood in front of her, confident and embarrassed at the same time. 

“I’ll put these back! And Remus said it was fine.” 

Lily laughed harder, watching water droplets glide down the stems and hit the wood. 

“Would you just... just let me ask you already?” James sounded exasperated, but his smile and shaking shoulders betrayed how funny he found her laugh. It made her insides warm. 

“Okay, okay. I’m listening. Go ahead.”

“Lily Evans...” He managed to begin, before she was laughing hysterically again. 

“Oh, come on.” James gave up, throwing the chocolate in her lap and falling onto the couch next to her. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Mmmm, now I don’t think I can go out with someone who laughs as bad as a hydrangea.” 

“You mean a hyena?” James was never good at knowing “muggle” animals.

James turned his face to look at her, ignoring the correction and moving the flowers so they were closer to her. 

“Lily. I’d like to take you on a date some time, if you’ll let me.”

Lily enjoyed how quickly he could go from joking and playful to sincere and serious. She smiled, and took the flowers. Then she vanished them back into the vase in the kitchen before she slid closer to him. 

“I haven’t spent years embarrassing myself in front of you to say no.” 

James smiled and leaned in to kiss her. 

After what felt like hours of fireworks and electricity running through her body, she broke away to give another tiny laugh. “Too bad you can’t fly home in this storm, you’ll have to stay here for the night.” 

“My, my, Evans. Making the moves already?” 

She huffed, and hit him on the shoulder. 

“Git. What I’m saying is, the only other clothes big enough to fit you in this house are the Madam Puddifoots t-shirts, and I’m so looking forward to seeing you in neon pink.”

The look on Jame’s face was priceless.

BONUS:

The next morning found Remus at the kitchen table peacefully drinking tea and reading the paper. He read about Celestina Warbeck’s recently announced tour, and took a sip of tea only to promptly spit it out as Lily walked into the kitchen in the over-sized pink t-shirt. James followed with a bright smile and real post-sex hair. 

“It’s... about time?” Remus offered. 

Lily just smiled. Yeah, it was about time. But now they had all the time in the world. 

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Buzzed - A Negan One-Shot

Summary: After an incident in the Sanctuary, Leigh takes matters into her own hands. What will Negan’s response be? 

Warning(s): Language. Angst. Attempted rape. Violence. Death. Slight Panic Attack. Anxiety. Leigh being a badass. Negan caught off guard (no pun intended). Mentions of what could be considered self-harm. Daddy kink, but not really. You’ll see. Protective Negan. Fluff. Sexual Innuendoes. Puns (Sorry Not Sorry!). Happy ending. Not Beta’d. I just finished writing this and had to post it! Sorry for any errors.

Author’s Note(s): 

I cut my hair myself, usually every 2 weeks, but no more than 3 weeks. I just can’t have my hair touch my ears; it makes my anxiety 10 times worse, and in a way, I kinda explain the reason behind that in this story. I was cutting my hair tonight, (it’s now 2:30 am, 5/24/2020) and I thought of this story idea and Negan’s reaction to the main character having short hair. 

Also, if any of the warnings are triggering for you, please don’t force yourself to read. The last thing I’d want to do is trigger someone into having a panic attack. Feel free to give me any feedback, thoughts, questions, comments and/or concerns you have with the story. I love hearing from y’all! 

As always, if you’d like to be added to my taglist, just let me know and I’ll happily add you!! 

Word Count: 5,301. (A lot, I know, but I think it’s worth it, and I just couldn’t get everything I wanted across in less words, so enjoy!)

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh Sullivan (OFC)

Characters: Negan. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Simon. Dr. Carson. 3 unnamed Original Male Characters. Sanctuary People.

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl

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Story Time:

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Then

They’d caught me off guard, for once. 

Normally, I never let anything or anyone catch me off guard. Or at least...I tried not to. Due to having anxiety, I was usually hyper-aware of shit going on. But, today, my anxiety had eased off after the relaxing morning I’d had with my husband. We’d spent the morning, snuggled up in his big king-sized bed, just shooting the shit and goofing off. 

He didn’t have to go out on a run today, so there was no need to rush the morning like we normally had to 95% of the time. Eventually, though, the day had to get started. Dwight came knocking on the door, interrupting our relaxation time, saying he needed my husband for something. Being the man my husband is, he grumbled, cussed Dwight out, and then got outta bed while apologizing to me for the interruption and assuring me we’d finish relaxing when he got back later.

After a kiss, and a soft “I love you,” he was gone. Off to do what he did. It was my day off, so I laid in bed for a little longer before I too got up, dressed, and made my rounds. As the top female Savior, something I’d worked my ass off, fought for, and took seriously, I said hi to who I needed to, did what I needed to, and finally, sat down under my favorite tree out by the greenhouses. 

I laid my leather jacket on the ground next to me, leaving me in my usually black t-shirt, holey but patched up and well worn blue jeans, and faded brown leather boots. Strapped to each thigh was a holster. In the right one was my signature gun, a .357 Magnum, 6-shot revolver. In the left holster, I kept my handcrafted 6 inch blade that I made back when I was 15, well over half a decade, shit closer to a decade ago, considering I was almost 25.

Bending my knees, and pulling them close in a comfortable position, I propped up the notebook I usually kept in my leather satchel with two backup knives, an extra gun, ammo, and a spare notebook for work along with several pens and pencils. The writing equipment was a rare commodity these days, so I always kept them close to me.

As I was writing a story I’d started a few days prior, I zoned out just a bit, focusing on it. I’d started writing when I was just 12 years old, and kept the habit up, even now, 3 years after the world ended and the dead started walking back in 2020 after the Coronavirus outback after the new year, new decade had started. 

I was writing, losing myself in the words I printed on the paper in my chicken scratch. I say chicken scratch ‘cause, well...that’s basically what it was. As a lefty, my handwriting wasn’t necessarily the best, and a doctor’s prescription note was probably more legible. It was a mixture between slanted and curved print and semi-elegant at times cursive. 

But, it was my handwriting, and I could read it. My husband sometimes had difficulty reading it, but he’d always put his black-rimmed glasses on, and fuck if they didn’t make him look sexier than he already was. Because of that, I sneakily wrote a little sloppier when I knew he’d have to read something from my notes about the runs I went on.

It was all an excuse to see him with those glasses perched on his nose, giving him that sexy professor look. He thought they made him look ridiculous, but I loved it. Since I was writing and zoned out, I wasn’t nearly as focused on my surroundings. I didn’t think I had to be. The tree was my safe spot when I wasn’t with my husband.

The Sanctuary was a relatively safe place, and that was thanks to the rules that were in place. So, it’d make sense that I wouldn’t focus on my surroundings as much and relax a bit as I wrote. But, boy was I wrong. I just didn’t realize it till it was far too late. Before I realized what was happening, I was being punched in the right side of my face, slinging my head to the side, as my notebook and bag were jerked away from me and my hair was roughly pulled, jerking my head backwards.

I went to grab my gun and my knife, but they’d already been taken from me. My eyes flirted back and forth in front of me, trying to process what was going on. But, everything was blurry and I was dizzy from the hit. I could barely make out three men close to me, far too close to me. They were basically on top of me. 

Fuck. One of them actually was. I could feel the weight of him straddling my thighs, keeping me from standing. I couldn’t hear anything as the beating of my heart flooded my ears. I tried to fight back as best as I could, but the other two men grabbed my hands and jerked them away from my body and pinning them to the ground as they shoved my upper body down.

When they jerked my arms away, I felt, more than heard, my left shoulder dislocate. I clenched my jaw. The pain wasn’t anything new. I’d been dealing with a shoulder that dislocates when I fuckin’ sneeze since I was 13 years old. The pain, when it happened, was now at a tolerable level since I was so used to it happening.

I didn’t cry out. I knew not to. Plus, the wasn’t the type of person I was. I knew what was ‘bout to happen. It, like my shoulder, was something I’d had to put with for years growing. It wasn’t anything new either. But, that didn’t mean it was enjoyable. It was anything but. I barely processed my jeans being jerked down my hips and past my knees. 

I could just barely hear the men laughing and joking around with each other, talking ‘bout what they were going to do to me and wondering why the fuck I was wearing two pairs of boxers under my jeans. I watched them, as best as I could with my vision being what it was. When the blurriness faded just enough, I could make out their features and recognized them as members of the new group that was brought in last week. 

Members I’d brought into the Sanctuary. Into my house. I dropped my head back down to the ground and groaned to myself. I let my body go slack, waiting for the perfect time. When the men realized I wasn’t struggling anymore, they laughed and the two dumbfucks holding my arms down eased up on their grip.

The man on my legs lifted himself up just enough push his own pants down. Their easing up on their grip was their mistake and ultimately what led to their demise. Since they weren’t paying attention to me, thinking I’d just given up, and instead focusing on getting their baby carrot sized dicks outta their pants, I was able to strike back. 

I immediately brought both my hands up, fingers curled in to form perfect fists without worry of possibly breaking my thumbs, ignoring the protest of my left shoulder, and cocked both the men on my sides straight in the noses. I internally smiled at the sounds of their noses breaking and their screams of pain. 

They stumbled back just a little bit, hands covering their faces as they clutched their noses in an attempt to stop the extensive amount of blood falling. Clearly, I caught the man on top me off guard with my actions and he was shocked for a moment. It was perfect. I bucked him up off me, managed to jerk my pants up as I stood. 

All one fluid motion.

Since he was still obviously in shock at me suddenly fighting back, he stumbled, tripping, and falling backwards on the ground. He tried to scurry backwards as fast as as he could. Despite being 5’3”, I was able to stay with him. I slammed my boot down on his stomach, making him howl in pain and wheeze as he struggled to get the air back that i’d just forced outta his lungs.

I kept my foot on his gut, putting most of my weight on it, digging the worn sole into his abdomen. He let out a sad excuse for a grunt as I did. I just smirked. This fucked had no idea who he’d fucked, or tried to fuck with. I leaned down and started pummeling the shit outta his face, keeping him in place with my foot.

Since he couldn’t get fresh air back into his lungs because of the position of my foot, he was too weak to try and fight back. To say I was a little disappointed at not having a challenge, would be like saying the dead weren’t walking around. It was a lie. I was disappointed, and I fueled that disappointment in with the anger as I literally beat him to death. 

He kept trying to apologize, tried to plead with me, to not kill him, but I didn’t give a fuck. He was ‘bout to rape me, and I’d had ‘nough of that in my life. I wasn’t putting up with it. I eased up just before I knew he was about to die. Gave him false hope into letting him think his words had affected me. I let him get one last breath in as I completely lifted my foot off his torso. 

“Than-” He started to say, but I cut him off as I slammed my boot into his face, effectively crushing his skull. 

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, prick.” I muttered to him as I wiped my boot off on his once clean but now bloody clothes. “You fuckin’ ruined my goddamn favorite fuckin’ pair of boots, asshole.”

Before I turned away from him, I spit on his crushed skull. Since it was destroyed, I didn’t have to worry ‘bout him coming back as a dean’un. I was a little sad that I wouldn’t get to kill him a second time, but he’d gotten what he deserved. Turning to the other two dumbfucks, I repeated my actions, and did to them exactly what I’d just done to their friend.

I knew my husband was going to be pissed that I killed these men, instead of letting him do it, but I’d deal with that. I wasn’t going to let these fuckers back inside the relatively safe concrete walls of the factory that was the Sanctuary. By the time I was down stomping in the skull of the third man, I looked up, as I finished, and noticed that I’d gathered quite an audience.

Including Simon. The right-hand man, third person in charge of the Sanctuary. His, and everyone else’s, eyes were wide, and everyone was silent. I knew I was gonna be in trouble since they’d just seen me stomp the life outta three men, but I didn’t give a fuck. I had shit to do. I gathered up my weapons, my jacket, and bag after shoving my shit into it and stormed inside the Sanctuary, flipping everyone off, not wanting to deal with their gawking.

Not caring ‘bout my bloody appearance, I made my way to the commissary, needing to grab a few things before I went back to my room. I found what I needed: a new pair of jeans identical to the ones i was wearing, a new t-shirt, undergarments, a pair of boots and a special item, an unopened, brand new boxed set of hair clippers. 

Once I had what I needed, I stormed up to the room I share with my husband, stripping down to my bra and one pair of boxers when i get there.

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Now

“What the fuck was that fuckin’ shit out there, Leigh?!?” 

I sigh as I hear my husband storm into our room, the door slamming shut behind him. I look at myself in the mirror as I lay the scissors down on the bathroom counter by the sink and pick up the clippers. Turning them on, I don’t reply to my husband. Not wanting to explain to him what happened at the moment.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I bring the clippers up to my shortened hair. I press the #2 guard to my head and move it backwards from my forehead to the back of my head, sticking to the once familiar hairline I used to see and live by religiously. I watch as the hair falls, joining the rest of my once long, curly locks, on the floor by my feet. I use my fingers to guide my movements, making sure I don’t go too high and completely fuck up my hair.

Once I have the hairline visible, separating what I want to keep and what I want to shave off, I move the guard down below my ear and with practiced ease, I shave the sides and back of head, getting rid of the hair. Keeping an eye on myself, making sure I don’t fuck up my haircut, not that I would since I used to do this every 2-3 weeks, I watch as my husband steps into the bathroom.

I watch as his eyes nearly bulge outta their sockets when he sees me. I watch as the anger vanishes from his face and body, being replaced with worry, sadness, and a hint of curiosity. I watch as his eyes traveling over the reflection of my face in the mirror, taking in my black eye, bruised and split open cheek, covered in blood and even the nasty black eye I’m now sporting.

I watch as he slowly moves his eyes up to meet mine in the mirror. 

“What...what are you doing?” He asks softly. 

My left eyebrow shoots sky high as I look at him. My husband rarely says a sentence without cussing every other word. And yet...he just asked a simple question without one sentence enhancer thrown in. 

“What the fuck’s it look like I’m doing? I’m cutting my hair.” I say. “Decided I needed a new fuckin’ look. Don’t you fuckin’ love it?” 

I know I’m being Captain fuckin’ Obvious at the moment, and a bit harsh, but I’m not ready to tell him what happened. That’s for after I get done. Cutting my hair is the only thing keeping me from completely shutting down and giving in to the panic attack that’s trying to take over. I watch as he lets out a deep breath as he slowly steps into the bathroom, padding across the tiled floor to me.

He places his hands on my shoulders and I do my best not to flinch. But he still sees it and quickly lifts his hands off me, holding them up in a surrendering pose. I know he’d never hurt me, and he was the one to save my life after this shit hole of a world started three years ago. But, I can’t help it. The feeling of those fuckers’ hands on me, plus the fact that my shoulder is still dislocated, keeps me from wanting to be touched.  

“Can...let me help. Please, sweetheart.” My husband’s soft drawl meets my ears.

“No. I need to do this myself.” I reply, tightening my grip on the clippers.

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat as he swallows deeply and nods. I keep my eyes on his in the mirror and finish cutting my hair. It’s been three years since I’ve cut my hair, but the muscle memory is still there. It’s like riding a bike. My husband watches as I finish shaving the sides of my head down to where there’s just a bit of peach fuzz. 

Switching the clippers off, I replace the guard with a #1 and go back over the bottom hairline on the base of my neck. Once I have that done, I take the guard off completely and just put the metal of the clippers to the back of my neck doing my best not to flinch at the burning heat coming off it as it meets my skin. 

I take that little strip down so there’s no hair there, running along along the hairline on my neck. I use the blending guard and even out the area, making the hair have a fade. Replacing the blending guard with the #7, I bring it up to the patch of hair on my head, and trim it down. When I finish, my feet are covered with a mountain of what used to be the long, thick, curly hair on my head.

My neck and shoulders are also covered with the little strands of hair that I buzzed off. Setting the clippers on the counter, I run my hands over the buzz cut I now sport and take in a deep, shaky breath. I let my head drop down, pressing my chin to chest and take another shaky breath in after letting out one. 

“Baby?” My husband asks softly.

I lift my head and look up at him. My eyes roam over the unzipped black leather jacket he’s wearing over his standard white t-shirt and down to the grey jeans he’s wearing, held up by two leather belts. I let my eyes rest on his feet, no longer hidden by his own pair of black combat boots, but rather a pair of white socks. 

Taking in another deep breath, I bring my eyes up to meet his. I can see the worry swimming in his muddy water brown eyes. I shake my head as i start to take my bra off and push my boxers down, stepping outta them as the pool ‘round my ankles.

“I need a shower.” I mumble and step ‘round him to walk to the stunning shower we share.

I grip the knobs tightly as I turn the water on, as hot as it’ll go. I need to feel the pain of the burning water over my skin. If I don’t, I know I’ll give in to that panic attack that’s already  on the verge of consuming me. Stepping into the shower, I glance back at my husband over my shoulder. 

“You can…” I mumble.

He nods as he understands what I’m trying to say. I look away, for the first time since we met, and eventually became intimate, not wanting to watch him undress. I know that if I were to watch, I’d see those assholes tugging their pants down, and I don’t want that. I don’t want my husband to be mixed in with them.

Standing under the burning hot water, feeling it flow over and pelt my skin, I bring my hands up and tightly grip what’s left of my hair, tugging on it. I feel Negan step into the shower, behind me. I don’t have to look.  I know he’s there. I can feel the heat rolling off his skin, along with the worry and helplessness. 

He hasn’t seen me like this in three years, and even then, it wasn’t this bad. I blindly reach for the bottle of men’s body wash he and I share and I vigorously scrub my body with it. Trying to get the touch and the blood of those men off me. It takes four harsh washes and rinses before I even begin to feel clean. 

Negan just stands behind me, leaning against the back wall of the shower. He’s giving me my space while still letting me know he’s right there if I need him. The bottle slips outta my hands when I go to pour more of the soapy liquid into my palm. I’d leave it there, but Negan gently reaches around me, picking it up. 

I hear the bottle open and can tell he’s pouring some into his own hands. I figure he’s just gonna wash his body until I feel his soft and gentle touch on my skin. I flinch and tremble at first, but eventually give into the feeling of him touching me. He takes his time, gently washing me, letting me get clean for the final time. 

Letting me know that it’s ok. That it’s over. That’s he’s got me. That he’ll take care of me. Neither of us say a word as he takes the removable showerhead from it’s dock and gently rinses me off after he turns the cold water on, letting the temperature of the water mix until it’s no longer burning, but rather warm and gentle.

He lets the showerhead drop and dangle as he turns the water off and steps out. I keep my eyes closed and feel him wrap a soft towel around me. I open my eyes and bring them to meet his, only to find him staring at my dislocated shoulder. He blinks and his tongue darts out just a little from between his lips.

“Want me to put it back in place, sweetheart?” 

I nod slowly. 

“Put your right arm ‘round my waist, baby, and I will.”

I follow his soft command and a moment later, I feel his palms against my left shoulder. He’s helped me pop my shoulder back into place enough over the last few years that he knows what he’s doing. I suck in a deep, shaky breath right as he pops it back into place. I bit my lip to hold back the whimper from the pain.

As soon as he’s done, he wraps both his arms ‘round me and just holds me close as I bury my face against his wet chest. We don’t say another word for a solid 10 minutes. He just holds me as we stand in the bathroom, water pooling ‘round our feet. Eventually, he gently scoops me up in his arms and carries me to bed. 

Sitting down on it, he just holds me in his lap, not saying anything. I know it’s his way of helping me get outta the panic attack and also letting me know that he’s listening when I’m ready to talk. It takes me a hot minute before I get the words out, and even then they’re just a whisper.

“They...they were trying to rape me.”

I hear him let out a growl and his arms tighten ‘round me, protectively. That’s his number one rule. Rape is not allowed. Followed by the prohibition of abusing women and children. He doesn’t say a word, letting me continue. I tell him everything that happened, as I tremble in his arms. He just holds me close, softly rubbing my back and taking even breaths to help me subconsciously focus on keeping my own breathing even.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, baby.” He finally murmurs after I finish recounting the events. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. They got what they deserved. I just wish I could’ve introduced them to Lucille.” 

My eyes flirt over to the barbed-wire baseball bat propped up against the wall by our bedroom door. She’s surprisingly clean. I guess Negan didn’t have to dish out any punishments today. Only I did.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, though, baby.” He whispers in my ear.

I look up at him, confused. “Proud?”

He nods. “Mmhhmm. You shut that shit down, and kept your cool until you were up here. I don’t know how you fuckin’ managed that, but I’m not surprised. I heard what you did, heard how you described it, and fuck, baby. I wish I’d seen you go Rambo on their asses. You’re my badass girl. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. Despite the events of the day, and me doing what I did, my husband still manages to make me smile. He slowly brings one hand up, keeping it in my line of sight, and cups my good cheek. 

“Will you let me send Carson up here to stitch your cheek up and get you checked out?”

His eyes search mine, waiting for my reply, and hoping I’ll let him. I nod against his palm, and he lets out a deep breath. He reaches over to the nightstand and plucks his radio off it. His thumb pressed against the side button.

“Carson. Get your fuckin’ ass up to my room now, and bring your bag. Fuckin’ now.” He growls into the receiver.

“Yes, sir.” Comes the doctor’s reply not even  a moment later.

Negan then pushes the button down again and talks.

“Simon. Bring two plates of food up to my room. Now. And make sure it’s some good shit too.”

Simon replies in the affirmative and Negan sets his radio down. He looks back at me and places his palm back against my good cheek. A gesture that always makes me relax.

“Can I ask why you cut your hair?” He asks softly.

“I refuse to let another man tug me around by hair, guiding me to do his bidding,  especially during a situation like earlier. It was a flashback to my dad doing what he did. It’s why I’ve also cut my own hair. It’s the one thing I about my body that I can control. So, I keep it short and no man will ever be able to use my hair against me again.” I say, the truth just spilling out. “Plus, having it touch my ears, always made my anxiety ten times worse.”

He knows what my dad did, and he’s known that tugging on my hair was a hard limit for me. So, he never did it, which is why I let my hair grow out. I felt safe around him. I still do. But, having long hair is just a liability, and I refuse to be put in that situation again. He nods in understanding.

“I’m gonna miss your curls, though.” He says. “And waking up with a mouthful of your hair in my mouth.”

I can’t help but giggle at that. It’s true. Most mornings, he’d wake up, sputtering to spit out the strands of my hair that ended up in his mouth as we slept next to each other.

“I left enough on top so you can still play with my hair, babe. And, there’s still enough to run your fingers through it.” I assure him.

“Can I?”

I nod and a moment later, I feel his fingers on his other hand stroke through my wet hair, lightly massaging my scalp as he does. I let out a soft moan at the feeling and lean into his touch on my cheek, closing my eyes. He chuckles as he plays with my hair.

“If that’s your reaction to me doing that every single fuckin’ time, I could get used to it. And I’ll just have to get used to having an even stiffer hard on from the soft moans.” He smirks as he looks at me.

I blush and open my eyes looking up at him. “You're my husband. I think I can manage helping you out with the baseball bat you have in your pants.”

He laughs softly. “Yea?”

I grin. “Mmhhmm. You’re fond of Lucille. I’m quite fond of your own bat.”

He grins, showing off his dimples. “I’m fuckin’ fond of you, baby. Have been since we first met in the woods. Why else do you think I got rid of the wives years ago?”

I try not to grin as I shrug. “It was the only way you were getting in my pants and scoring a homerun.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not the only reason, baby. It was because I love you, Leigh.”

I grin from ear to ear and turn my head to place a soft kiss to his palm. “I love you too, Negan.”

Before he can say anything else, there’s a timid knock on the door.

“Come the fuck in!” Negan calls out, holding me close.

Dr. Carson comes in. He’s no longer as nervous as he used to be when I first showed up. But he’s still a little nervous around the man. I’ve gotten Negan to ease up on the fear of himself he’s instilled in people, and gotten him to be nicer in the way he treats folks. He’s not the bat-wielding lunatic he was when we first met. 

He’s the man I always knew he was.

A soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

After Carson checks me out, determines nothing’s broken, assures me that everything is good, and stitches my cheek up, he leaves. Negan helps me get dressed in a pair of his boxers under my new jeans and one of his shirts before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. Simon comes in shortly after I finish getting dressed, holding a tray of food for Negan and I. 

His eyes widen as he looks at me, taking in my new appearance.

“What, Si? Never seen a girl with short hair before?” I ask, teasing.

He shakes his head. “I have. I just wasn’t expecting you to have cut your own. It looks good on you, fitting.”

I smile. “Thanks, Si.”

Leaning up, I kiss his cheek and then kick him out before Negan can Lucille him for staring at me. My husband knows Simon’s like a dad to me, the dad I never had, and that there’s nothing there. He just gets jealous and protective over me, not liking other men to stare. And, for once, I’m thankful, given the events of today.

As we eat, Negan and I stay on the bed, me snuggled up to his side. When we’re finished though, I look up at him. 

“I have to tell you something else.” I say.

His eyebrow raises and he looks at me, grining. “What’s that? You planning on buzzing anything else?” 

I laugh and playfully slap his bare chest. “No, asshole.”

He pretends to be hurt and rubs his chest, grinning. “Damn, girl. That hurt.”

I laugh and kiss his chest where I smacked him. “Feel better, Daddy?”

He grins that dimpled grin again and nods. “Mmhhmm. Now, what else you gotta tell me, babygirl?”

I smirk. “Well, Daddy…you see...”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t tease me, little girl.”

I giggle. “I’m not, Daddy.”

I bring my hand down to rub my tummy. 

“You full from eating?” He asks, covering my hand on my tummy, rubbing what he thinks is a food baby.

“Nope. But, it’s nice to see you already rubbing my tummy. I can happily get used to this over the next 7 months.”

“7 months?” His brow creases in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen. “You...you’re...we’re…?”

I giggle and nod as I lean up to kiss him softly. 

“Yes, honey. I’m pregnant.” I say. “I’m 2 months along, and found out a few days ago. I was working on a story earlier, and that was gonna be how I told you, but shit happened, so I figured I’d just tell you.”

He lets out a high pitched squeal that I never would’ve expected from him, and pulls me right back into his arms and his lap. His beard tickles my neck as he grins against it, placing a soft kiss there. I giggle and wrap my arms ‘round him. Like I said, he’s a soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather and I’m his buzzed haired girl.