#not to mention I have a midterm on Wednesday that I was supposed to be well in my study plan for

[nadvs]

the power play (part seven)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

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“When’s that part supposed to be done again?” the voice buzzes from your laptop.

You glance up at Rafe when he steps into the study room, locking eyes as he shuts the door behind him.

“By Wednesday night,” you answer, looking at your screen again. The other students in your group project stare back at you, three guys who haven’t even tried to pull their weight.

“And we have to do the peer evaluation, too,” you add. “She expects us to be transparent about how everyone contributed. And I’m planning to be totally honest.”

Rafe settles in his seat, diagonal to you at the corner of the desk like always. A smile pulls at his lips. He hates when that serious, disappointed tone of voice is directed at him, but watching you give that attitude to another guy is something else entirely.

He places his laptop on the desk and crosses his arms as he watches you in amusement.

“Is that review thing online?” one of the guys asks. You tap your foot against the floor in frustration. You’ve mentioned where to find it at least five times.

“I have an appointment now,” you say, “but everything you need to know is in the rubric. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You exit the call, looking over at Rafe with wordless exhaustion. He doesn’t need you to tell him; that was about the group project you were venting to him about last week.

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip. It was hot to see you assert yourself like that. And he knows you’re just doing your job as his tutor, respecting the time you set aside for him, but it still makes his ego grow a little that you ended the call so quickly after he arrived.

And now he’s convinced you can’t do a single thing without it sending him into a mental spiral.

“Someone’s mad,” he murmurs.

“They’re killing me,” you say with a defeated chuckle. “I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repeat myself about things they can figure out on their own. Why do I have to hold grown men’s hands?”

“Damn,” he jokes, looking down and nodding, feigning offense.

“Well, I signed up to hold yours,” you laugh. “And you kind of hold mine with all the free therapy, so win-win.”

Rafe smirks. He’s not sure if he’s helped you nearly as much as you’ve helped him, if his version of therapy even comes close to how you’ve talked him down.

You need a physical reset after that frustrating call, a way to release the tension sitting in your body. You arch your back as you extend your arms above your head, stretching your muscles with a deep exhale.

Rafe’s mouth goes dry watching you dip your head back, your arms pulled high.

His thoughts are self-willed, running off with no warning, compelling him to imagine putting his lips along the column of your exposed neck, kissing you open-mouthed, cradling your head, hearing your sighs.

And because you have a special talent for driving him crazy, your shirt falls over your shoulder when you lower your arms. And you don’t fix it.

His eyebrows inch upward, left in stunned silence, fantasizing about planting his lips down your neck, over your collarbone, along your shoulder. Over and over again.

“Okay, I’m in tutor mode now,” you say, pulling his laptop towards you and opening it, oblivious to what you do to him. “Midterm on Monday. How are you feeling?”

How is he feeling? Like infatuation and lust are burning through him. Like he might lose whatever sanity he has left.

He clears his throat.

“Where is it again?”

“Should be in the same lecture hall the class is in,” you say, dragging your fingers over the trackpad. “But we can check the message board to be sure.”

You feel his stare on you, then look up to see humor twinkling in his eyes.

The realization hits you. He’s messing with you, acting like the guys you were just on a call with.

“Notice how I don’t get annoyed when you do it?” you chuckle. “I told you that you were my favorite student.”

Rafe’s smile slightly fades as you turn your attention back to his laptop.

He doesn’t like the reminder of the birthday party, of the bitterness that made itself a home in his chest that night when you made it clear what he is to you. Just the guy you tutor. Just a friend.

And he swallows his pain down, because he’s not going to unleash his silent grudges on you. Not anymore.

════════

There’s only four games left of the tournament. A loss means the season is over. And Rafe can’t lose.

He’s in the middle of a scoring drill, preparing for a nerve-wracking match against the visiting team. The rolling of skates cutting over ice, the smacks of sticks hitting pucks, the din from the filling stands, all fill his ears.

As always, not giving this his all is not an option. No matter how much the dread of his shoulder acting up again hangs over him.

Hockey gives him an outlet, a purpose. When he sets out to block a shot or hit the puck into the net, when he throws himself into a game with nothing but aggression guiding him, the fervor that courses through him is unlike anything else.

He can’t lose that.

You settle into your seat at the side of the rink, many rows up, chatting with Lyla. Your eyes have been almost exclusively on Rafe since you came in and you can’t believe you used to attend games without paying him any mind before.

Then again, you didn’t know who he really was. You didn’t know that under the hard exterior was such a complex man that would unexpectedly start turning anything and everything in your world inside out.

“There’s no way,” Lyla mumbles to you, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Look.”

She points forward and you lean closer to her to see a couple of girls a few rows ahead looking at a phone. They’re on the college’s athletic department’s website, on the men’s ice hockey team roster page.

Rafe’s headshot and name is at the center of the screen as they whisper and giggle.

“There are eyes on your man,” she laughs. “Watch out.”

The jealousy that swirls through you is hot and unwelcome. You don’t bother trying to hide it. It’s what his real girlfriend would do anyway.

You meet Lyla’s eyes, flashing her an exasperated frown.

“I guess it comes with the territory?” you say, tense.

“Oh, my God, they’re trying to find him on Instagram,” she chuckles, then looks at you again. “You obviously have nothing to worry about. He only has eyes for you. Everyone can see it.”

The same frustrating, overwhelming discomfort you felt the night of the last game fills your senses.

You meant it when you told Rafe that you need to take some time for yourself, to not date until Beck is no longer on your mind.

But you can’t deny that since then, it’s like Rafe is claiming the space in your heart that Beck once owned. Except Rafe is taking it over with a thousand times more force.

While you thought Beck was what you needed – friendly and level-headed and calm – you’ve seen him for who he really is after putting distance between you.

Whether he meant to do it or not, he strung you along. With a clearer head, you can see his flaws. And you’re pretty sure he’s a people pleaser.

And it kind of feels manipulative. You don’t doubt he’s a mostly genuine person; it’s just that he chooses the comfort of being liked over the discomfort of honesty. You used to love it about him, seeing it as kindness, letting it cloud your vision, letting it lull you into infatuation.

Rafe gives you an entirely new thrill. He’s not concerned with people liking him. He says what he thinks, and even though he can be harsh, you appreciate being around a man like that. He may be moody, with little control over his temper, but at least he’s direct.

And it’s because of that that you know you can’t take Lyla’s words that everyone can see it to heart. What everyone’s seeing is fake.

He’s playing it up, pretending to like you because that’s what you agreed to do. If someone like him felt something real, they’d cut the bullshit and tell you.

You think of the fleeting moments you’ve had with Rafe, the soft, gentle vulnerability and the heart-racing affection brimming with what you wish was chemistry.

Maybe he feels something, too. But probably not. Your mind is heavy with fog after years of pining for someone and being sure they felt the same, only for it to crash and burn in heartbreak.

This is why you’re trusting your instinct to stay away from romance for the time being.

The familiar pain of a confusing crush pinches in your heart. You can’t believe you’re back here, back to sitting in the stands, a spectator to your heart’s choices, dwelling over a man you can’t take your eyes off of.

You didn’t break the cycle.

You just started a new one.

════════

At the end of the second period, you head to the bathroom with Lyla. You’re washing your hands in the middle of the long row of sinks and instinctually glance up when someone appears next to you.

Tension crushes your chest when you realize it’s Emma. You make brief eye contact, then abruptly end it. You step away to dry your hands when, to your surprise, she speaks as she walks by.

“Do you not have any of your own shirts?” she murmurs.

You have to take a second to absorb her words as she storms out.

You look at your reflection, Rafe’s jersey draped over your body. You wish she wouldn’t have caught you off guard, so you could at least laugh off her dig.

Even though you’re annoyed, you’re not offended. Because if you lost Rafe after having him for real, you’d be bitter, too.

You leave the crowded bathroom and wait in the hall for Lyla, deep in thought.

You agreed to this whole thing to make two people jealous. Beck stares at you like you’ve broken his heart. Emma’s pissed that her ex has a new girlfriend. You’ve achieved your goal. You can end this now.

For your own good, you think it’s finally time to do just that.

════════

Rafe is coming down from a high. It was a tight game, but they took the win. Three games left and they could be the champions.

He’s down to his boxers in the locker room when he checks his phone before heading to the shower. A smile perks on his lips when he sees you texted him.

Congratulations! You were amazing. I won’t be able to come out to celebrate because I’m drowning in school work :( Try to have fun without me (even though you can’t)

You’re kidding, but you’re right. He can’t imagine having nearly as good of a time if you’re not there.

He slams his locker shut, donning a scowl.

════════

The next night, you step into the humid house, your arm linked with Lyla’s, the memories of the last time you were in a frat house fresh in your mind.

Rafe had you propped up on the counter, his steely blue eyes fixed on you, his large hands on your thighs. It was weeks ago at this point, but the thrill it gave you still lives in your mind. So does the sight of him shirtless the morning after.

Rafe’s eyes land on you as you pace into the living room through the pockets of crowds. He texted you about this party, offering to pick you up, and you told him you’d meet him here. He’s been practically staring at the front door since.

He’s never felt like this before. Like he’s constantly holding his breath and he can’t breathe easy until he sees the girl who possesses his every thought.

You’re saying something to Lyla, your smile bright and your eyes dazzling and God, of course you’re wearing a dress that shows more of your body than he’s ever seen before.

If he didn’t know how sweet you are, he’d think you were purposely torturing him. And he knows other guys are looking at you. It makes his blood boil.

“I just shouldn’t talk when she’s around,” Isaac murmurs.

“Huh?” Rafe looks to his friend, who’s standing beside him, taking another drag of his beer.

“Huh?” Isaac mocks with a grin. “I was in the middle of saying something.”

Rafe can’t even pretend to be annoyed. Not when you’re in the same room.

“My bad,” he says, looking forward again. When you find his eyes, you flash him that smile that both breaks and mends his heart, pressing through the crowds to close the distance.

Rafe’s palm is flat against your back when he hugs you, stroking his thumb between your shoulder blades, your skin warm and soft. His body buzzes from the relief of reuniting, even though it’s only been two days since he saw you at the library.

“I have to thank you,” Lyla says to Rafe, half-shouting over the noisy chatter and music. “She never came to this many parties before she dated you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rafe replies, his eyes on you even though his words are directed to your best friend.

“Funny,” Isaac says to you. “He used to go to everything, but he wouldn't come out last night because you weren’t there.”

Your brows knit, pleasantly surprised, hesitatingly touched as you look up at Rafe.

“Really?” you say.

Rafe needs to play it off. He’d thoughtlessly admitted it to Isaac yesterday after leaving the locker room, saying you weren’t coming out anyway, so why would he?

“Can’t have fun without you,” he replies, repeating your text back to you. You’re unsure if he’s just saying that as your fake boyfriend, or if he really feels that way.

“That’s cold,” Isaac mutters in his usual joking way. “I’m right here.”

Lyla laughs, then squeezes your forearm.

“I saw some girls from my film class,” she tells you. “Do you want to go say hi with me or stay here?”

“I’ll stay here,” you reply.

“Thought so,” she says with a knowing grin. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’s the deal with your friend?” Isaac asks the moment Lyla scurries away.

“The deal?” you say.

“What’s her type?” he asks. “If I ask her out, would I get laughed at?”

“Ohhh,” you say with a conspiratorial smile. “Are you trying to get a date?”

“I’ll owe you big, okay?” he replies, putting his hand to his heart. “For that and for my essay. What do you think of it, by the way?

“I’m halfway through,” you reply, having taken a look at it that morning between your classes. “I think you need more annotations, but I’ll get it back to you by tomorrow night with my notes.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Isaac says. “Be honest. Who’s the better writer? Me or Rafe?”

“Rafe,” you reply immediately, gazing up at him. He’s pretty sure that the sound of you saying his name is better than anything he’s ever heard.

“Well… obviously you’re going to pick your boyfriend,” Isaac mumbles, then gazes past your shoulder. “So? Do I stand a chance?”

You follow his eyeline to see he’s staring at Lyla. You can imagine her liking Isaac.

“You might,” you say, then turn back around. “She likes when guys are direct, but don’t be presumptuous.”

“Whatever that means,” Isaac says, then looks at Rafe. “Is she always using big words?”

You chuckle, “Be yourself. And don’t be too forward. Be a gentleman.”

Right now, Rafe would be wondering what your type is, what you like guys to do. But he knows. It’s Beck, who’s different from him in every way.

“So, don’t be yourself,” Rafe chides.

Isaac flashes him a humored, but sarcastic smile, flipping his friend off before downing his drink.

“See you guys,” he says, stepping past you.

You let out an amused exhale, resting into the first private moment you’re having with Rafe tonight.

“Hi,” you say, taking his strong features in as he towers over you.

“Hey.” His eyes drift over your face. The bass of the music filling the thick air is no match to how loud his heart is thumping in his ears. “I know you can hold your own, but you don’t have to help him.”

“Back up,” you say, your smile widening. “Hold my own? Did you just give me a compliment?”

“That call I walked in on was intense,” he says with a half-chuckle. “It’s obvious you don’t take any shit.”

It’s meaningful praise, not only because it’s coming from him, someone who’s usually so aloof, but also because of how many times people have mistakenly seen your kindness as a sign that you let others get away with mistreating you.

And it’s unexpected. You never imagined feeling like Rafe sees a part of you that so many don’t.

Your crush on him was supposed to stay noncommittal. Meaningless. Shallow.

The squeezing sensation in your heart is telling you that might not be a possibility, because seeing this kind, tender side of him is proof that maybe he could be the type of boyfriend you’d want.

“I would’ve told Isaac no if I couldn’t do it,” you reply, “but I’m happy to do a favor if I can manage it.”

He still looks worried. A warm, comforting sense of endearment zips through you. You weren’t lying to Lyla when you’d told her that you liked Rafe’s protectiveness.

“I appreciate you looking out for me,” you add, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

Silence sinks between you, your gazes locked, your smiles slowly fading as tension replaces every remaining sense of amusement.

Rafe breaks the stare. He looks down, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. He can’t have these types of moments with you. He’s fighting everything in him not to kiss you.

“You want a drink?” he asks, looking towards the dining room. “If you can pace yourself.”

You glance at the beer bottle he’s holding.

“Is that all they have?” you ask.

“I grabbed the first thing I saw,” he replies.

“I never tried that kind before.”

Rafe doesn’t think. He just holds it out, perching the neck of the bottle towards you.

Your fingers brush over his as you accept the offer, taking the cold bottle and lifting the smooth cusp against your mouth, your knees weak as you think about how he just had his lips right where yours are.

You take a small sip, promptly cringe at the sourness, and hand it back to him with a look of disgust. He laughs that sweet, innocent, boyish laugh you’ve only heard a few times before.

“No?” he murmurs, his smile bright.

“You really enjoy drinking that?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug.

“Awful,” you mumble.

You shuffle in place, remembering what you’ve been eager to tell him.

“Oh, I have two things to tell you,” you say. “First, these girls sitting in front of me yesterday were looking at you on the school website. You know how they say a determined girl investigates better than the FBI? Just a warning, they’ll find you. If they haven’t already.”

Rafe smirks, unable to believe he ever found your rambling anything but entertaining. And cute as hell.

He should probably be taking your words to heart and thinking about dating for real, going out with girls who actually like him, but it’s unimaginable when he’s certain that he couldn’t find the feeling he gets when he looks at you in anyone else’s eyes.

“And you got jealous and lost your shit?” he quips.

“Yeah, they had to kick me out,” you play along. “How has your shoulder been, by the way?”

The sudden question is an intrusion, an assault on the happiness he’s been feeling since you walked in. He’s still getting used to it, to how you prod, to how you try to saunter past the wall he has up as if you don’t even see it.

You gaze up at him as he looks away, raking back his hair and offering a tense, “Good. I’ve just… been in my head about it. It’s messing with my game.”

A crease forms between your brows as you gaze at him in confusion, hoping he’ll say more. But he doesn’t.

“Are you worried you’ll hurt it again?” you ask.

You step just an inch closer, craning your head to look up at him, wishing he’d just lean down instead of being so unnecessarily impenetrable. He’s quiet and cold, drawn into himself like he was the day you met him.

“Yeah,” he says. “One wrong move and…”

Rafe’s convinced you’re about to judge him, to look at him like he’s a wuss. But the confusion on your face fades and is replaced with sympathy.

“That makes sense,” you say. “You want to give it your all like you always do. I bet playing it safe just feels wrong.”

He’s in awe. How do you take the tiny pieces he gives you and still get him? You’ve teased him for being perceptive, for reading people so easily, but it’s nothing compared to you.

“Yeah, I – I don’t know how to just half-ass it,” he says with a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ve never done it that way.”

You study him, curiosity stirring in you, along with a certainty that there’s nothing but beauty behind the front he puts up.

“You said you were better after you started playing in high school, right?” you press. “It must mean a lot to you.”

He scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tell. You know he does it when he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Hockey did so much for me and it – it makes me me, you know? I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Bad word,” you remind him with a soft smile. “It’s not stupid. Tell me more.”

Rafe bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t want to go back there, to when he was a kid, needing a place to let everything festering in him out. Not here, with other people around. Not now, when he’s unsure if you feel something, too.

“What was the other thing?” he says.

“What?”

“You said you had two things to tell me.”

You flatten your lips. It hurts how he’ll begrudgingly give you some vulnerability when you’re insistent, but most of the time, remind you that he keeps you at a distance.

“The other thing,” you eventually say with a nod, willing yourself to go back to how you used to be when Rafe’s mood drops didn’t affect you as much. “Your ex made a little dig at me.”

His face hardens, wearing that look you know well by now. The one that silently, impatiently tells you to explain.

“Something about how I’m always wearing your jersey,” you say. “Like I don’t have any shirts of my own.”

“When?”

“Yesterday at the game,” you chuckle. “She left before I could even react. But she obviously noticed me wearing it before. That girl is jealous. And very, very mad.”

He wants to ask if you’re okay, but he can tell by the amused smile on your face that you are. It takes a lot to shake you. Still, he hates that his ex tried to embarrass you. That you were in that position because of him.

“Is this the point where we call it?” you ask.

“What?”

“Do you want to still keep this up?” you clarify, motioning between you.

This is how his last breakup happened. In the throws of a party. Unexpectedly. But even though this one isn’t real, it hurts a thousand times more than the last one.

“You’re… done?” Rafe asks, embarrassed at how thin his voice sounds.

“I don’t want to care about what Beck thinks anymore,” you say. You swallow down that Rafe’s the reason why. “And we got what we wanted, right?”

You both agreed to an easy-out clause. He owes you to follow through on that. If you want to cut and run, you should be able to.

The thought of not getting to touch you, to hold you, even though it is just to make another person in the room jealous, makes his blood run cold.

But you deserve to get what you want.

“Yeah, we did,” he says. “Good luck getting over me.”

“Thanks,” you laugh. “We don’t have to announce it or anything. We just have no reason to lay it on thick anymore. Friends?”

You hold out your hand, and he gently squeezes it, shaking on it just like you did when you started all this.

“Friends.”

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The next night, you and Lyla and a couple of your mutual friends go out to dinner to unwind from studying. The off-campus restaurant is elegant, the entrance decorated beautifully. Lyla asks the hostess to take a photo of you all before you sit.

When you settle at the table, you look at the photo and post it to your story. You put your phone down, just to pick it up again a minute later, the impulse to see who’s looked at it too strong to ignore.

You got so used to doing it with Beck, eager to pick up on the breadcrumbs he’d leave for you. Now, you’re doing it to see if Rafe looked at it.

You tap to see who’s viewed the story and see two familiar icons. Beck’s. And Rafe’s.

It’s almost taunting to stare at, one man who led you on and another who helped you get back at him for it.

You can hardly stomach how desperately you crave indifference. How badly you wish Beck had never taken so many years from you. And for the first time, how deeply you regret putting on this ploy with Rafe.

Because all it led to was allowing another man into your heart and having to tell yourself not to let him steal it.

You lock your screen and put away your phone, determined to be present with your friends.

════════

As you finish up dinner, Lyla suggests going to a bar.

“It is a school night,” she says, mainly looking at you, “but we don’t have to stay out late. We could invite some boys if anyone feels inclined.”

“Do you have a boy in mind?” one of your friends asks her.

“Isaac’s cute,” she says, pointing to you. “He told me he asked you about me.”

“He better be following my advice to be a gentleman,” you reply.

“Do you want to invite Rafe?” she asks. The mention of his name makes your heart drop.

“No,” you say, sure you didn’t do a good job masking your sadness. “He has a midterm tomorrow.”

“Are you guys doing okay?” Lyla mumbles, surprised by how quickly you declined. This isn’t the time to drop the bomb that you’re technically broken up.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” she says, taking her last bite. “I really don’t want Beck to be right.”

You tense up.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“He told me not to say anything,” she explains, the way her face is twisted in confusion making it clear that she has no idea why her brother wanted to keep this from you. “He’s worried about you. He thinks Rafe isn’t the best guy and you jumped into this with him too fast and that you’ll get hurt. I told him you wouldn’t be with someone who treats you badly, but you know Beck.”

You’ve managed to stay composed up to this point. You’ve held yourself together, even in private.

But this might be the thing to finally break you. The cold, hard confirmation that Beck isn’t jealous, was never jealous. He was just concerned.

Because he’s a friend and nothing more. And you were delusional to think otherwise.

“He shouldn’t be worried,” you say, forcing a smile. “Anyways, you guys go without me. I’m pretty tired.”

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Rafe watches you walk to his car through the dark, rainy night air as he idles in front of the restaurant’s front doors. You’d texted him ten minutes ago, asking if he could give you a ride home.

You’d said goodbye to your friends and waited for Rafe behind the front doors, fighting the urge to cry.

You open the passenger door, the interior light fades on, and his stomach drops when he sees that the girl who’s always smiling has tears in her eyes.

You settle in the car, putting your seatbelt on, staring at the dashboard. Rafe stills.

He’s witnessed you disappointed, happy, sad, annoyed, but he’s never seen you like this. Like all the joy has been drained from you, not a single trace of optimism or humor or anything left.

“You okay?” he rasps. The car light fades off, blanketing both of you in darkness.

He stares at you, moonlight just barely pricking the edges of your profile, your eyes gleaming with tears.

“No,” you utter, your voice fragile over the sound of the rain pattering on the roof.

Rafe leans in just a little closer to get a better look at you, but you’re only gazing ahead, stuck in place. He wishes he didn’t have to ask. It’s like he’s losing you, like you don’t want to tell him what you’re thinking anymore.

“What happened?” he rasps.

You don’t know how to say it. He surely already knows that he has a bad reputation, but you care too much about him to repeat any gossip. There’s so much more to him that people don’t see and you don’t want him to not believe that.

“I need a moment,” you say. “Can we go?”

He grimaces, his brows furrowing, shaking his head slightly.

“We’re not rushing anywhere,” he says quietly. You haven’t heard his voice like this before. It’s soft. Soothing.

You can’t think of what to say.

This doesn’t feel fair to Rafe. You pick at him and expect him to open up to you, but now, you’re shutting him out.

He grew to love how you share what you’re thinking, rambling so he’s completely clear on what’s running through your mind. Now, he’s on the outside, behind a wall you never had up before.

It feels like rejection.

“Can we go?” you repeat. “Please?”

He scoffs in disbelief and hurt. And then, he switches gears and steps on the gas pedal.

════════

Rafe pulls up to your dorm. You haven’t said anything to each other the whole ride.

You’ve caught discreet glances at him. His jaw is tense, a grimace on his face. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. He’s always mad.

You’ve been silent, sniffling and wiping away tears with your sleeve.

He’s losing his mind. You’re just sitting there, your breaths shaky, like you’re breaking right in front of him and he can’t do anything about it.

“I’ve never cried over him,” you finally snap the silence.

He’s caught off guard. The sympathy you’ve been needing is etched into his face, the scowl replaced with tenderness.

“Even when I felt the worst over it, I… managed to keep myself together. But tonight, Lyla told me that he doesn’t like me and it just made it all crash down on me. I wasted so much time.”

He puts the car in park. Kills the engine. Looks at you.

“What the hell did she say?” he says sharply, his anger directed at your best friend now.

You’ve been thinking about how to tell him without causing any collateral damage. You don’t want to hurt him or risk the dynamic between him and his teammate.

“You know that I never dated anyone before,” you tell him. “To jump into something so intense with you is unlike me. Beck thinks I’m being impulsive. He’s just worried I’ll get hurt. That’s all. It was never jealousy.”

Rafe scratches his jaw. He thinks back to how every time you’re in a room with Beck, his eyes are on you.

“I thought you said you saw it for yourself,” he says after a moment. “He’s into you.”

“He was just looking at me like a concerned friend,” you mumble, your throat feeling raw again. “You’ve fed my delusion enough.”

He sighs. It’s impossible. There’s no world where a guy gets to know you and doesn’t feel something.

There are too many possibilities. Beck could simply not be into you. Or he is and he hasn’t told his sister. Or he is and he has and she’s been sworn to secrecy. Or a thousand other things that you can’t know for sure.

It’s all a confusing disarray of what you know and what you don’t, so uncertain about where you stand with Beck that it’s forcing your heart into a knot.

“I need to talk to him and get everything out into the open,” you conclude. “I don’t care if it makes things weird. I can’t keep overthinking.”

When your eyes meet Rafe’s again, an uncontrollable shudder escapes your lips, a result of how hard you’ve been crying.

And he can’t stand it. He puts his palm on the back of your hand, the words sitting in his throat, awkward but necessary to say.

“He’s not good enough for you, you know that, right?” he murmurs.

“Rafe,” you laugh sadly, his words wringing your heart. “You’re just making me cry harder. Stop being nice. It’s unlike you.”

A smile pulls on the corner of his lips. There’s the glimpse of you that he’s been craving. It’s like the sun is finally rising after a long, cold night.

“What do you want, then?” he says.

“Tough love,” you joke. “Call me annoying or something.”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head.

He can’t even do it as a joke. He’s told himself he feels too much his whole life. He’s not going to do it to you, too.

You sigh, looking down at his hand on yours. There’s nobody around to fool. He’s doing this because he wants to.

“I’m… so mad I still care,” you say. “I don’t even like him anymore, but I need to tell him that he was cruel to string me along. And then I’ll finally be done with it.”

You look out the window, seeing your reflection in the side mirror.

“And I need to be on my own and live my life without worrying what a guy thinks,” you continue. “I don’t think you see how much you’ve helped me through all this.”

Rafe is sure that he hates Beck. He fucked with you for years, stringing you along, making you question everything. You shouldn’t have to cry all because that idiot refuses to be upfront with you.

He wouldn’t treat you like that. But he’ll never get the chance to prove it. You��re blind to how fast his thoughts are racing, how hard his heart is pounding. To what he’d give to you if you felt what he does.

“You helped me, too,” he says. He wishes he was better at this, that he could say more, but there’s no way he can utter what he’s really thinking without opening up a wound that you can’t patch up.

That’s the last thing you both need right now. Especially after you told him you’re not looking to tie yourself to a relationship anytime soon.

“I’m glad,” you say. You shift your hand to unbuckle your seatbelt, leaving him to pull away. “Thank you for the ride. You should get back to studying now.”

“Who said I was studying?”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” you quip with a small smile, meeting his eyes one last time before you push the door open and step out of the car.

════════

It’s Wednesday night and Rafe’s sitting in an unfamiliar locker room, two periods into a vicious game.

They’re down by two goals. He’s exhausted, his shoulder is aching, yet all he can think about is you, in your dorm room four hours away.

You’d texted him twice since the night he picked you up at the restaurant. The first was on Monday, a good luck message for his midterm. The next was last night, letting him know that you can’t make tonight’s away game due to the long distance and the fact that you have a huge paper due.

If they win this game, they’re in the semi-finals. The hunger he’s feeling for a victory is the one thing driving him right now.

He’d love it if you were in the stands, behind the penalty box again, holding your phone up against the screen, lightheartedly counting his indiscretions, giving him brightness in his otherwise bleak life.

Rafe stares down at the scuffed floor, chest rising and falling rapidly, the tension thick in the room as he holds his helmet in his hands. Coach enters the room, jumping right into his pep-talk.

“We’re missing scoring opportunities,” he eventually says, his voice booming through the room.

“That’s on me, Coach,” Beck pipes up from the other side of the room.

“Then step up,” Rafe mutters with vitriol, meeting his eyes. “Instead of being such a kiss-ass, try playing better.”

“Whoa,” Isaac mumbles beside him. “Chill, man.”

“I’ll do the coaching here, got it, Cameron?” Coach says sharply.

Rafe stares down at the floor again, rage flooding him. He’d swing at Beck right now if he could, if there was nothing on the line.

Not because of the game. Because of you.

════════

When the team is back in the locker room, all the stress that was previously cutting through the air has dissipated, replaced with pride. They managed to secure the win. They made it to the semi-finals.

Rafe gets to his locker and tries to take off his equipment. But the pain in his shoulder is so blinding, so hot, that he can’t ignore the agony.

It was a hard body check, minutes left in the game. The sharp stab he felt was undeniable.

He knows that this is it.

════════

“Thank you,” you say to the security guard who walked you over to the athlete’s dorm.

It’s nearing midnight and, as promised, Isaac texted you that they’re back on campus. He’d sent you a message that Rafe got injured near the end of the game.

You called him then, learning that Rafe could barely move his arm, that he was taken to urgent care, that he was muttering about being sure his season is over.

You texted Rafe right away, concern burning through you: Isaac told me what happened. Can I come by when you get home?

He replied: yes. And then hours later, the text came in a minute after Isaac’s.

Home. Don’t walk by yourself.

You’d planned to text Isaac to open the front door for you, but you’re lucky to sneak into the building as a resident leaves. You rush in, take the elevator, and scurry down the hallway.

Your heart is pounding when you knock on Rafe’s door.

“It’s open,” you hear grumbled from the other side.

Rafe is in the dark, a pinch of moonlight gleaming into the room through a crack in the blinds as the door shuts behind you.

He’s sitting up in his bed, resting against the headboard, and when you see the sling on the same arm that he’d injured before, your heart cracks down the middle.

You don’t bother turning on the light. You have a feeling he doesn’t want to be seen right now. You settle on the edge of his bed, the side of his thigh against your lower back.

Rafe stares at your profile in the dark, his breath evening out, the dread he’s been battling losing some of its power now that he’s with you.

When Isaac said he let you know what happened, Rafe was glad he hadn’t told him about your breakup. And he was relieved that Isaac shared the news, because Rafe’s not sure he would’ve been able to tell you himself.

“Hey,” you say. “How bad does it hurt?”

“You got security to walk you here, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply. The fact that he’s thinking about your safety right now is unbelievable. “What happened?”

“I tore my rotator cuff,” he says into the dark.

“Your season’s done?” you ask, although you know it is. That’s too serious of an injury to play with.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah.”

Your throat tightens. His fear came true and now he’s like this, in pain, miserable. And surely blaming himself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice trembling.

His heart shifts when he catches the fragility in your tone.

“Don’t cry,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He can’t help but huff a quiet chuckle. Leave it to you to make him smile at a time like this.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask.

“No.”

“I’m going to hug you because I need to do something,” you decide, giving into the impulse to get closer to him.

He shifts lower, resting his head on his pillow, and you turn to your side, leaning on his good shoulder, making sure to stay as far away from his injury as possible.

Your arm is draped over his torso, your cheek at his upper chest, feeling the faint thumps of his heart. The soft, rhythmic beating is what beckons the tears threatening to fall finally come out.

“How bad does it hurt?” you ask again, your voice thick with sadness.

He doesn’t see a reason to lie.

“Like hell,” he admits, the painkillers barely numbing the pain.

Rafe shuts his eyes, grimacing, angry at his body for betraying him.

Your arm around him brings him a sense of peace. And the fullness warming his heart doesn’t come from simply liking someone.

This is love.

But you’ve told him so many times that you need to be on your own. He can’t mess that up for you just because he wants you for himself.

He’s never been this worried about his selfishness. He’s never really liked himself and he’s always wanted to be a better man and being with you is the first time it feels achievable.

“Why’d you come here?” he asks, desperate for you to tell him you feel it, too. That he’s worth breaking your rules.

“Because I care about you,” you say with an offended laugh. “Should I leave?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“Then try being a little more welcoming,” you joke.

If you want to feel welcome here, in his room, in his bed, in his heart, in his life, he’ll make it happen.

And he’s always been the type to show, rather than tell.

He still feels a pinch up his neck, but he fights through the ache to sit up half an inch. He brushes his lips against your forehead to leave a chaste, featherlight kiss on your skin.

“How’s that?” he rasps, settling back on his pillow.

Your body numbs, the air heavy with pressure. It’s an avalanche coming down on you, the excitement of his touch, the confusion of his intentions, the fear of giving another person all the power to break your heart.

And it’s like you’re buried under your overwhelming emotions, barely able to move.

You don’t know what to say.

So, you nuzzle closer, squeeze him tighter, and close your eyes, hoping that whatever happens next doesn’t hurt you anymore than you’ve already been hurt.

next >

author’s note um so i think we’re at 50k words and all we have is a forehead kiss... next part will be the last and the slowburn will be OVER. i promise. don’t hate me <3

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[earlysunshines]

order for delivery!

pham hanni x fem!reader

synopsis: hanni is a terrible multi-tasker and it's very evident when her phone is in between her ear and shoulder while she orders delivery. she's messily figuring out what to tackle on her calendar first as she mumbles her order, what lecture notes to go over, when her midterms fall---and oops, she just said 'love you, bye' to the worker on the other end of the phone.

warnings: none(?) i think it's just rly silly and cute and fluffy ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: ugh she's so cute and such a loser and UGH anyways i wrote this so quickly but maybe that's because i love thsi fic so much it was so so so fun to write omfg ENJOY!!

hanni is a terrible multitasker, it only ends up in her getting things mixed up and done slower. still, she does it anyway.

her phone is tucked awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, fingers tapping at the laptop keyboard while scrolling through lecture notes. “uh, yeah… chicken lo mein with extra chicken… and um also…” she squinted at the calendar on her screen. “what was i supposed to— oh, right… midterm next wednesday. right, cool.”

on the other end you listened patiently, smiling to yourself and holding back a small giggle as she mumbled half an order while clearly being busy with other things.

“wait, sorry!” she apologizes quickly, realizing she hadn’t ordered what minji and haerin had asked for. “also six steamed pork dumplings— no, twelve please. shrimp fried rice and… wait, i already said that, right? ugh—anyway, just, yeah, add that too.”

you ring it all up, smiling wider. “anything else?”

there’s a brief moment of silence until you hear, “huh? oh, no, that’s it.” she replies absentmindedly. she had been paying no attention at all, flipping through her notes and muttering to herself quietly about what she needed to review before the weekend. “uh, yeah, thanks—love you, bye.”

another beat of silence passes before you chime in, voice playful. “love you too.”

you could practically hear her freeze, the realization hits her. you hear a gasp on the other end of the phone, sharp and followed by a small curse.

‘w-wait, what?” hanni stammers, cheeks heating up like crazy. everything hanni had been bombarded with halts. her hands freeze on the laptop, her phone almost slips from her shoulder, and the papers she had been holding with the other hand have all landed on teh counter. everything hanni had been thinking about—midterm wednesday, lecture notes, module 2.2, chapter three reading—dissapear from her mind in a blink.

she hears a laugh on the other end, then a voice that sends a shiver down her spine. 

“your total is $28.41, by the way.”

“god, i’m sorry.” hanni rushes out the apology, face palming herself. “i didn’t mean it— not that i don’t love you! well, i mean, i don’t know you, so i don’t love you. not that i hate you! no hard feelings. i’m not saying you’re— okay i’m, i’m going to go. bye. thank you. sorry.”

hanni presses the red button on her phone, ending the call and cringing to herself. hanni is more than glad that her friends in the living room hadn’t heard the most embarassing phonecall of her life. if any of them were to witness it, she’d never live it down. her cheeks are fuming against her hand; she��s a mess, she really needs to stop tackling twelve things at once even though it brings her some type of comfort—less chaos during lots of chaos makes it seem like something manageable.

she clicks through a bunch of tabs, skims through a few lines on her paper, and then closes her laptop. she does this while being distracted by the whole one minute interaction from earlier, shooting herself in the head mentally everytime she thinks of it.

less than twenty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up. hanni knows it’s not the person on the phone, because when the man speaks, it’s not the same voice that sent a weird shiver down her spine when she realized they said “love you too” back to her.

she takes the two bags over to her living room, setting them down in front of two ravenous students—otherwise known as her best friends danielle and minji—watching their eyes sparkle just from the sight. she rolls her eyes at them, sitting down against her small couch and leaning against as they waste no time to dig in and unbox.

hanni’s the last one to reach in and grab something to munch on—mistake number one. mistake number two is catching minji furrowing her brows at a piece of paper, pickiing it up and reading, instead of stopping her before she can do any of that.

her best friend reads it outloud in a confused tone: “i put two extra fortune cookies in there,” minji begins, danielle scoots over to read too. “hope your fortune is as sweet as your voice. love, the girl you don’t hate, but don’t love :(“

“p.s. you sound cute when you’re caught off guard ;-)”

minji finishes reading, and then the two of her friends look up, staring down hanni.

“hanni, what’s this?”

“i— give me that!” hanni says, face burning up. she swipes the paper from minji’s hand, looking at the paper and covering it with her hand like her friends hadn’t just read it together. she cringes, closing her eyes and falling down on teh floor. “i’m an idiot.”

“hanniiiiii” danielle whines, scooting over to shake her by her shoulders while she’s on the floor. “what’s that about? do you have an admirer or something?”

“i can’t tell you, i just, i’m so stupid.”

“dude, what?” minji questions, completely ignoring the steaming, delicious food on the coffee table. “explain—now.”

hanni feels her heart beating like crazy, then she gives in and sits up. her face is most definitely beet red, maybe even worse when she glances at the note again.

“i accidentally said ‘love you, bye’ to the worker on the phone.” hanni says quietly, shaking her head. “and she said it back.”

“she what?” danielle and minji say in unison, looking at her in disbelief.

hanni lets out a weird noise, overwhelmed and flustered beyond words. she looks down at the note again through the spaces in her fingers as she covers her face, not noticing any name or anything that might lead to another encounter with the mystery girl on the other end of the line. this disappoints her a bit, but even if she were to have a name or number or anything, she wouldn’t be able to face you. 

after getting teased to death, the trio indulges in food after a very long and tiring study session. the conversation shifts to annoying professors, upcoming midterms, plans for when they all have free time—but hanni is still thinking of you, oddly enough.

—

a little over a week from that day, hanni orders takeout again. she’s somehow forgotten (for the most part) her embarrassing interaction, probably because her midterm is tomorrow and she’s completely forgotten to eat. her phone sits in between her shoulder and ear again, head tilted awkwardly to rush out an order. 

“alpha waves, altruism, anorexia nervosa… shit, sorry. um yeah, i’d like six steamed dumplings please, pork. umm… chow mein— no, scratch that. shrimp fried rice please.” her words are hurried out her mouth as she furrows her brows at her laptop screen, clicking through slides and trying to comprehend two units of psychology in one night. “that’s it, thank you, love you.”

hanni stops in place, frozen in shock. there is no way.

“wow, you must be smitten, huh?” she hears on the end of the line, followed by a small chuckle. “love you too, ‘hp.’” hanni had never used her full name when ordering things, well, only food. she always had this fear of sharing her legal name unless it was for unconsumable orders. “your total is $14.89 by the way.” 

you hear a groan on the end of the line, followed by what sounds like pens and pencils hitting the floor.

“...you alright?”

hanni, caught off guard by the whole conversation for the most part, but also the fact that you noticed how she had just spilled half her supplies onto her apartment floor, answers with a simple, “yeah.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“i’m really sorry, again, for the… you know.”

“your undying love for me?”

“what?” hanni says, completely disregarding the pens, pencils, and highlighters on the floor. “i- no! no. i’m not in love with you! i didn’t mean it—”

“i’m teasing, hp.” she hears the smile in your voice. “would you like an extra fortune? last time i had heard from you i remember something about a midterm.”

“you remembered?” it sounds a little pathetic, maybe desperate coming from hanni, but hanni couldn’t care less. she’s tired, overwhelmed, and has gone over so much work in the span of a few days that she really can’t think or function correctly.

“yeah, not many people sound as young as you. it’s usually a parent or something ordering for their family at this time. plus, you made my shift.” you confess, “i thought it was cute, you know, how frantic you had ordered your meal.”

“i’m really sorry about that, like seriously, i’m really, really sorry.”

“it’s okay hp.”

“right, yeah. i uh, i have to study. sorry— i don’t know why i’m saying sorry, ugh, sorry. thanks, bye.”

“no ‘love you?’” you ask, and before hanni can answer you respond, “kidding. i’ll throw in two fried wontons, have a good night hp.”

the call ends and hanni blinks a few times as she tries to process what just happened. she’s embarrassed beyond words, just as flustered too. there might even be a blush on her cheeks, she can’t stop thinking about how smooth you were with your teasing, plus the way your voice sounded. 

hanni thinks it’s the midterm getting to her, the stress. she cleans up the mess on the floor and goes through her vocabulary notes. she hears a knock on the door twenty minutes later which makes her jump in her seat.

she grabs the bag of fried rice and dumplings, placing it on the counter before taking everything out. hanni hears her stomach rumble a bit, she definitely underestimated how hungry she was.

before hanni digs in, she notices two fortune cookies and a note at the bottom. she completely ignores the cookies, grabbing the note and opening it up to see the same small handwriting from last time:

“i’m guessing your initials are hp? i could be wrong… 

hp like harry potter? it makes sense because you’re magical.

good luck on your midterm! hopefully you’ll order for a post-midterm celebration.

p.s. there are extra fried wontons ;p”

hanni smiles as she reads the note. pause. hanni stops smiling immediately when she becomes aware of the fact that she’s smiling because of a note. a note from a mystery woman on the other end of the line.

—

midterms are over, all of them. hanni had gone through all four midterms. all four. hanni’s burnt out to oblivion, finding comfort in her bed as soon as she gets back from her last midterm. she checks her messages and is greeted by the groupchat she’s in with danielle and minji.

minji: FINALLY i feel like a fish that’s been gutted out it’s not even finals lowk wasn’t even that bad actually how about you guys

danielle: my midterm is in an hour!  wish me luck :D how was yours hanni?

hanni: i’m about to PASS OUT why did i choose forensics

minji: because you’re a nerd don’t let one biology midterm screw you over who’s going to take care of my body parts when i suddenly get murdered

danielle: woah quite a situation, no?

hanni: uagghshhskafhjk i’m going to sleep GOODNIGHT do you guys want to come over later dani do you need time to unwind before you come over

danielle: no that’s alright! i find your apartment quite cozy i’ll just crash there right after, thanks han okay i’m going to review a bit more wish me luck!

minji: good luck mo dani!! you can do it  we love you

hanni: good luck! you’ve got this

danielle:  ❤️

hanni smiles at danielle’s message, she’s always so positive—even through text, even during these trying times. she decides to pass out for almost two hours, waking up groggy and finding herself almost tripping all the way back to her couch in the living room. she sighs as she collapses onto the cushions, waiting for minji and danielle to come over.

then her thoughts race back to you, embarassingly enough. she thinks about your stupid flirting, your stupid voice, and the stupid giggle she could hear through the phone. she thinks about how stupid she is for smiling, how stupid she is. everything is stupid.

hanni is fantasizing about some random person she’s ordered affordable chinese food from, she doesn’t even know her name. 

(hanni’s brain is mush.)

instinctively, she goes through her recent calls, dialing the number of the restaurant that serves her favorite dumplings. 

it rings for a few seconds before someone answers, “hello?”

the voice isn’t familiar whatsoever, hanni feels a strange discomfort in her stomach. 

hanni doesn’t realize that she hasn’t spoken a word until the second “hello?” is uttered. she breaks from her trance.

“hi, hello, yeah, hi.”

“hello, what can i get you?”

hanni purses her lips before replying, “oh, um.” she sounds like a sad child. “fried rice, i’ll do chicken. wontons, fried, twelve of them. could i also get beef-broccoli lo mein?”

she hears nothing for about three seconds, then a hum. “got it, could i get a name for that order?”

“hp.” 

“y/n’s ‘hp?’” who the hell is y/n? hanni thinks to herself. 

“what?”

“nevermind.” the worker says with her monotone voice. “will that be it?”

“yeah, thank you.” hanni doesn’t say ‘love you’ this time. she tells herself it’s because she’s not preoccupied with at least three things in that same moment, but a part of it is because it’s not the same voice that she had been expecting to hear. “what’s the total?”

“$24.12. it’ll be over in a little more than twenty minutes.”

“okay, thank you.” hanni says, and instead of hearing something snarky back—she hears a hum, and then the call ends.

…

you walk into work later than usual, one of your midterms had been pushed a bit later, so your hours were cut off. 

as you walk in, you catch your coworker’s head snap up. as soon as she realizes it’s you, she relaxes a bit.

“good evening haerin!” you beam, somehow upbeat and lively even after your grueling calculus midterm. “miss me?”

“just had to take more calls than i ever do in one week.” she sighs, watching you move over behind the counter and push your bag under the desk. “so maybe a little.”

“awww, you missed me so much.”

“shut up.” haerin groans, sitting down in the little chair where no customers can catch her. “you know what you missed?”

“what?”

“your girlfriend called—miss hp.”

“hp?!” you say it like you’ve just missed the train that comes every two hours. “seriously? did she say ‘love you?’”

“of course that’s what you’re so animated about.” haerin rolls her eyes at you, shrugging. “she didn’t.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips, a very exaggerated one for that matter. then you frown, sitting down in the spinny chair nearby and rotating yourself in your seat like a little kid.

“i can’t believe i missed her.”

“you’re actually insane for flirting with a customer.”

“she has a cute voice.”

“you don’t even know her y/n.” haerin scoots over, but only to flick you in the forehead. she leans back in her seat, smirking. you rub your skin and pout at her, making her roll her eyes once more before she continues on, “she could be old, crinkly, and married or something. what if she’s like… balding? what if her teeth are falling out and she—”

“why are you assuming the worst haerin. you’re so— whatever. she sounds my age, i guess. it’s just fun to mess around, it’s cute.”

“i will never get you.” your coworker crosses her arms, jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. “could you get that? i’ve run out of social battery.”

“it’s a phone call haerin.”

“talking to you drained me already.”

you frown, making her giggle at you.

—

the next time hanni calls is two days later, because she’s a loser that can’t seem to get the thought of the chinese restaurant employee who keeps flirting with her (albeit smoothly) out of her head. the phone rings twice, then someone picks up, and hanni waits eagerly.

“hi, pledis plates, how can i help?” it’s you, it’s you. the memory of hearing ‘y/n’s hp?’ pops up in her head—could you be y/n? you have to be.

“hi.” hanni says simply, biting the inside of her lip. she hears a small chuckle on the other end of the line, slightly relieved.

“if it isn’t hp.” it comes out cheeky, making hanni blush. “missed you, you know?”

“what?”

“did you miss me too?”

“i–” yes. hanni did miss you, not like she’d admit it, at least out loud. “i’d like to order dumplings.”

“harsh.” you respond jokingly, “six, pork, and steamed, got it.”

“you memorized it?” 

“you ordered it last time.”

hanni can’t help but laugh, smiling as she holds the phone against her ear. “you must be head over heels to be remembering my order.”

“you’re the one who confessed first though?”

“that was a mistake.”

“uh huh.” amusement is laced in your tone. “it’ll be five dollars, should be there in less than twenty.”

“great.”

 hanni doesn’t know what else to say. you both pause, letting silence and the faint static ring in your ears.

“what happened to the usual goodbye?”

hanni feels herself shrinking in her bed, feet kicking slightly, blush forming. god, she’s head over heels, she’s insane, she doesn’t know a single thing about you other than the fact that you have a really endearing voice and that your flirting is enough to have her smiling like an idiot.

“thanks, bye.” neither of you hang up after hanni says it, knowing there’s something missing. hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling her stomach closing in on herself and simultaneously doing a flip. her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she chokes out, “love you.”

“i was waiting for that one.”

“a-are you— really?”

“yeah.” you simply state, and you say nothing else but, “bye hp.”

“you’re not going to say it back?”

you grin to yourself. hanni hears a small, amused laugh fromthe other end, sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t fold that easy, maybe next time.” you hang up right after, leaving hanni dumbfounded.

hanni looks at her phone like you’re going to call back, but you don’t. she drops the phone on her bed, putting both hands over her face and feeling her skin burn against her palms. she groans, then groans again, and sighs finally. 

maybe next time. there’s going to be a next time—hanni has that at least.

—

hanni calls again the next monday, around two days after the last call. it’s the same day she had first said the infamous ‘love you’ to you on accident. she calls at around the same time, laptop on her lap as she taps lightly on the backspace key, though not enough to actually press it. she wonders to herself for a moment, is the dent in her wallet really worth it? has she really reached rock bottom?

“pledis plates, what would you like to order?”

it’s not you. hanni sinks into the cushion of her couch and feels herself deflate. she can’t always call with the assumption that you’ll pick up, there are other employees after all. this time, it’s the same monotone voice she had heard before, a stark contrast to your flirtatious, lively tone.

“hi, i’d just like—”

“ah, hp.”

“how did you—”

“i remember your voice from last time. y/n was quite sad when she realized she’d missed your call by twenty minutes.”

“what do you mean?”

“she came into work late, midterms or something.”

midterms. the information alone gives her the assumption that you’re also in college, maybe even in her grade, and if she’s pushing it maybe you even go to her university. she conjures up a better picture of you now, not quite clear or concrete, but it’s something.

“is she a student?”

“i don’t know if i can leak that, she told me to be very secretive about her. i don’t think you’ll have trouble finding out more though, she never shuts up.”

hanni snickers, so you’re a talker too. yeah, hanni’s into that.

“well now i know her name.”

“do what you will with that.” the girl mutters. hanni hears a small sigh, then another response, “hey, y/n was curious about you. are you in high school?”

“what— no! do i sound like it?”

“you sound young.” the girl on the end of the line—haerin—shrugs. she continues, “y/n thinks you’re the same age as her, she also assumes you’re cute. i guess no one will know until a miracle happens.”

“i can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” hanni chuckles awkwardly, but haerin doesn’t respond.  “but if it helps, anyway, i’m a sophomore in college. tell her i’m interested in forensics.”

“okay.”

silence follows again, but haerin hasn’t hung up, and hanni still holds the phone against her ear expecting something more. hanni decides to take another step, asking, “y/n, how is… could you like, describe her?”

“physically or…? well, i can do a brief description. to start off: annoying, jokes a lot, pretends to be all mopey when insulted. physically: taller than me—i’d say taller than a lot of women. she has a nice smile i guess, but it’s the kind you want to wipe off her face, ugh, it’s like she’s making fun of you when she does it. her hair is also always a little messy, she says its for the ‘appeal,’ but i see none.”

hanni fights back a giggle. this woman has just spilled a good amount, a perfect amount in hanni’s eyes (any amount is alright, anything more than a name). this ‘y/n’ is tall, taller than most women, and hanni is shorter than most; hanni is into that, she loves taller girls. and messy hair too? that’s cute, probably. as long as it’s not the same type of messy that men rock around—men that barely shower or do anything. essentially: compsci majors—then hanni will be alright. you sound wonderful.

“did you want to order anything? or are did you just want to flirt with the idiot.”

“hey! hey, hey. lets not— ugh, okay, could i just get um, six pork dumplings—steamed.”

“okay.” the girl says quietly, and then hanni hears some light tapping. “six dumplings for hp.”

“hanni. it’s hanni. my name is hanni.”

“got it the first time.”

“you’re bright, aren’t you?”

“your order is going to be there later, bye.” and then the girl hangs up, leaving hanni speechless.

—

hanni waits a few days to call, because she doesn’t remember dialing on tuesdays or wednesdays and hearing a voice that brings her a little thrill. she leans against her counter waiting for a response, then lights up when she hears,

“pledis plates, how can i help?”

“y/n.” hanni says, almost relieved. “hi.”

“hi hanni.” your coworker must’ve leaked that conversation, hanni thinks. “nice to hear from you.”

“likewise.”

“can i get six dumplings? pork and—”

“---steamed, yes.” you’re smiling as you say it, like an eager little child. “nothing else?”

“no.”

“alright.” you respond, clicking two tabs and ringing up her order. you don’t give her the cost or anything, staring at the screen and deciding to huff out, “forensics?” you’re starting a real conversion now, what a step.

hanni is smiling hard, she’s so giddy that she’s twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger. 

“yeah, i think it’s nice.”

“cute.” you mumble, “i’m studying kinesiology.”

“is that so?”

“unfortunately.” you say lightheartedly. hanni doesn’t know what to respond with, she wants to continue the conversation and hear your voice longer, but there’s nothing she can think of. does she ask for your number? how you are? hanni is useless, she’s always been useless when it came to girls.

“hanni?”

“y-yes?” hanni cringes at the slight stutter.

“your total is five dollars. it’ll be there soon.”

“oh,” hanni says sadly, “i mean, um. okay.”

and then she hangs up, a little defeated, but there’s always a next time…right?

when her food gets there, she hurriedly pays the delivery driver, making her wallet cry even more. there’s a note in the bag, along with two fortune cookies. the note has your name and a number on it, making hanni gasp and smile to herself again. there’s a little ‘text me, miss hanni. i’m looking forward to it.’ and as soon as hanni reads it, she clasps her hands together, squeals quietly into them, giggles, and kicks her feet in the air.

hanni tries to do some schoolwork, managing to get ten minutes of reading down, a few sentences jotted down, and then the rest of the time she’s thinking about her new saved contact. she hasn’t texted you yet, mainly because she had been overthinking about what and when to text you. she contemplates texting danielle and minji about it, but she’d just be teased. 

this is the first time in a while since hanni’s gotten anywhere close to something romantic, or maybe this is platonic, but the flirting doesn’t support that idea. she’s tried tinder—once, once and never again—and going to parties. nothing works out, none of them make her giddy and giggly like this. 

before she knows it, two hours have passed, and so she decides to send a simple “hi, this is hanni!’ 

too enthusiastic? too bland? too basic? ugh. hanni groans, lying on her couch in an uncomfortable position.

you reply almost immediately with ‘hey, i’m off in twenty minutes. let’s call?’ and hanni has to put the phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

twenty minutes passes by too quickly, hanni hasn’t even figured out what to say. she looks at her phone, waiting for you to call, and when you do, she short circuits; hanni drops her phone on her face.

“hello?” it’s you.

it’s you.

“hey. um, how was work?”

“aw, even asking me about work.” she can hear the smirk in your tone, rolling her eyes as she smiles to herself. “it was fine, my favorite part was when this girl ordered pork dumplings though. she has a cute voice.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. hey, can i ask you something?”

“what is it?”

“i work tomorrow, but its the morning shift. i end at one, i was you know… wondering if you… wanted…” you sound nervous, this is a first for hanni. “if you wanted to share some dumplings, free of charge.”

hanni covers her mouth almost immediately, suppressing any signs of her freaking out.

“are you asking me out?”

“only if you say yes.”

you hear a giggle before you hear a “yes.”

“really?”

“mhm.” hanni smiles again, thinking of something that’ll leave you just as flustered. “okay, well… i’ll see your tomorrow. bye, love you.”

“love you too hanni.”

—

minji’s usually the one who picks up orders if it’s not delivery, and hanni is almost always taking the orders. so when hanni enters the shop for the first time, she’s quite fond of the smell of ingredients being stir fried or steamed, as well as the interior of the place. it’s very nice inside, hopefully the nice person she’s been meaning to see shows up soon.

there’s a girl by the counter, she’s only slightly taller than hanni, and her eyes are oddly cat-like. she looks up at her with those eyes, then shoots a small smile.

“hi, how can i help?” this is who the monotone voice belongs to. her image somehow matches perfectly with the voice.

“hi, i’m hanni.” as soon as she introduces herself, the workers eyes widen.

“woah, you’re real.”

“surprising, i know.”

“y/n is changing in the back—she was eager to get off fives minutes early so she wouldn’t be in uniform when you showed up.” haerin explains, shaking her head. “it’s nice to meet you, you’re very pretty.”

“thank you! i appreciate it. you’re pretty as well.”

haerin doesn’t get to respond. the person who does respond is the girl walking up to the register, scooting haerin to the side with her knuckles and tapping at the screen. the girl isn’t in uniform, and she’s also really good looking. 

you run a hand through your hair as you clock out through the system. “hey, did hanni ever stop by?” you ask haerin, not looking up from the screen because you’ve typed your code in wrong. 

“look up idiot.” your coworker snickers, and when you do, you’re met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

you notice her right away, hair flowing down past her chest, curtain bangs perfectly framing her face. her plump lips and striking features make you pause. sure, you expected her to be pretty—maybe even conventionally attractive, everyone is in their own way—but seeing her in person? she’s beyond that, practically model material. my god. your lips part slightly in surprise, and you catch yourself, quickly swallowing as you both smile at each other at the same time.

you clock out—thankfully not typing in the wrong code again from nervousness—and step out from behind the counter. a small tote bag hangs from your shoulder, and a plastic bag dangles in your hand. you glance down at it.

“twelve dumplings—steamed, pork, everything you like—for the pair.”

hanni’s smile lights up her face, and you can't help but think about how adorable she looks, how effortlessly charming she is.

“why thank you,” she says, her voice soft and playful. it sounds better in person than through the phone.

“you’re gorgeous, by the way,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, still marveling at her. “like, i expected you to be pretty, but… wow.” you can tell haerin is fake gagging or rolling her eyes or something like that from behind, she’s probably already on her way to avoid witnessing this interaction.

hanni blushes instantly, the red creeping up her cheeks. if she were at home, she’d probably be giggling and kicking her feet, but for now, she just looks away shyly, smiling. “thanks, you’re really cute too.”

“you think?”

“yes.” she meets your eyes, still flushed. “can we eat? i’m hungry.”

“right, yeah. i hope it’s not too forward, but is the park nearby good? we can settle down and, um… talk more. you know, more than just about your usual order.”

hanni laughs—you might die right then and there—before responding, “that’s perfect,” and then she nods, looking at you. her eyes are soft and warm and wonderful.

“great,” you echo.

“great,” she repeats, a small laugh escaping her.

you both walk side by side, still a little stiff at first, the mutual attraction between you creating an unspoken tension. but as you settle into the rhythm of conversation, the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by the easy flow of natural chemistry. each step feels lighter, the distance between you shrinking with every passing word.

—

—

—

hanni hears a knock at her door, confused because she hadn’t expected any guests other than minji and danielle—who are already in her living room leeching off her netflix account. 

she opens it to see you, which immediately brings a smile to her face. she almost leaps over to hug you, nearly making you drop the large bag in your hand.

“someone missed me.”

“shut up.” hanni says before pecking your lips. she looks at you, your dorky, adorable face, and then presses another longer kiss. “come in babe. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“i got off early because i had to cover. i wanted to surprise you, and i know you had company over.”

“oh yeah,” hanni had almost forgotten that her best friends had been there.

she leads you over, helping you take off your tote and setting it on her counter. her friends catch the two of you from their peripheral and wave, then their eyes light up at the sight of the familiar bag in your hand. you set it down, placing a the container of fried rice, lo mein, and dumpling down as they treat you like a savior.

“thank you so much, i owe you my first born.” danielle says, giving you a playful pout.

minji snickers, scooting up to the coffee table. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us—to hanni.”

you look over to your girlfriend, that’s right, she’s your girlfriend. hanni is rolling her eyes at you, pushing your shoulder, and then pulling you in by the wrist to sit next to her. she’s not one for pda—especially in front of danielle and minji—but under the table her fingers graze your skin, which makes you smile.

you grab a secret container from behind your back, handing it to hanni. when she opens it, she opens her mouth, shocked and grateful for the six steamed pork dumplings that you brought just for her.

[melrodrigo]

Lovesick - W.A.

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Wednesday are polar opposites. Do they really attract?

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Request from ages ago, I didn’t proofread this. Please excuse any mistakes. Happy reading! <3

Wednesday had a problem.

When Wednesday had first transferred to Nevermore, and gotten the infamous Enid welcome and introduction, she couldn't have cared less about you.

"That is Bianca Barklay, the closest thing to Nevermore royalty they'll ever be."

Then Enid pointed to a girl sitting next to Bianca, staring at the bubbles in the water fountain with intrigue.

"And that, is YN. She's the school heartthrob. It's just impossible to not love her, you'll see."

"She looks like a mushroom." Wednesday replied dryly, swiftly turning on her heel and heading back to her dorm.

"She's a sweetheart. Everyone likes her. You'll find out what I mean. I'm always right!" Enid shouted out, before quickly catching up and walking side by side with the goth.

Enid had warned that this would happen. God, how was Enid right?

Wednesday's frown only grew deeper as she thought back to the moments you've shared over the past year.

-

"Hey, you must be Wednesday right? New girl?"

All you got in return was a curt nod.

"Allllright, I get it, you don't wanna talk. Trust me I get it, I was so silent the first week here, some people thought I was mute!"

Silence.

You frown a bit but redirect your focus to the teacher emerging from the door.

-

"Enid I do not understand why I have to suffer not only with you, but her. I was content just sitting down in the dorm and practicing my cello."

The werewolf had recently gotten three free passes to Jericho, and decided to drag both you and Wednesday out for a cup of coffee.

"I hate to agree with her Enid, but I really have a lot of biology homework to do." You mused from behind, still sore from fencing class you had that day.

"Oh come on! It's good for you two to bond. My two besties, we're gonna be so cool together!" Enid makes an excited sound, "We should come up with a group name!"

When Wednesday quips back that she'd rather die in a long long torturous death (which she'd probably enjoy) instead of have a group name, you can't help but snort in agreement.

You shoot Wednesday a look, small smile playing on your lips.

-

Ever since that first day at Jericho, Enid had you guys connected by the hip. Unwillingly.

But as the days went on, Wednesday found out you weren't so bad.

She was particularly late to lunch today, catching up with updates on the hyde case.

In fact, she was debating skipping lunch all together. But as she glanced over to the pentagon, a hand shot up along with a shout.

"Wednesday! Over here!" You were waving your hand wildly, gesturing for her to walk over.

Wednesday bit back a sigh as she moved towards you, and to her surprise, there was one empty seat opposite of you, plate full, apple on the side.

"I got some lunch for you. Oh and a plain granola bar, I see you always like eating them." You tell her absentmindedly, munching on a sloppy joe.

Wednesday hesitates, before saying a quiet thank you.

"It's my pleasure Wends. So, how's the hyde case going?"

You both don't mention the fact you used a nickname to address her. She sighs, she supposed it was nice of you to get her lunch, so she tells you about the case.

"It's going well YN, I've just had a breakthrough......"

-

"Come on Wends, pleaseee? I really really really wanna go to The Weathervane."

You stare at Wednesday with your famous puppy eyes, and see Wednesday's glare soften just the slightest bit.

"I....suppose we can go in a few hours. After I've finished my writing hour, I have hyde business to do there anyway." She says, even though she'd already taken care of the issue already.

"Could you help me study for midterms? I do not understand anything for the life of me." You whine and throw the book back on her bed. Flopping onto the soft fabric dramatically.

"Bring it with you to the Weathervane." Wednesday says sharply, and returns back to her typewriter.

-

"Sucky Birthday to you Wednesday! Come, follow me." You squeal excitedly, reaching for the goth and pulling her by the wrist.

Physical touch has come sort of, natural to you with Wednesday. You were a naturally touchy person anyway, but when you were around Wednesday everything felt very...heightened.

Hm, I wonder what that is.

Wednesday was constantly complaining about your intense need to be touching her at all times, but she never actually pulled away when you did; and you're well aware she could if she wanted to.

"Where are we going?" She asks, tone somewhat annoyed.

You turn to her and smile; so bright Wednesday swears light shone through your teeth.

"Grave digging!"

Wednesday's eyebrows twitches in amusement, a small but noticeable movement. You've become sort of professional in her mannerisms over the past few months.

"I knew you'd like it. Come on." You say, practically sprinting to your destination. It's not a smart move, and you stumble over your own feet; arms still connected with Wednesday's.

You fall flat on your back into the soft grass, Wednesday on top of you.

She looks so good, the moonlight shining on her face. You steal a glance at her lips.

She's staring at you with wide eyes, arms on both sides of your face. Her braids frame your head a little.

She coughs awkwardly, then gets up and looks the other way.

You follow suit, trying to calm down your racing heart.

"Ooookay. Let's- let's get grave digging now." You say finally, watch as Wednesday walks toward you but avoids your eye.

She's grateful it's dark out, or else you would've seen the red coating her ears. And when you reach for her wrist she pulls back, afraid you'll be able to feel her racing heart.

-

It's parent's day. The long awaited dreadful day where Wednesday has to talk to her parents.

They'll be able to tell right away, she has no doubt. She's lovesick.

They’d see right through her. They're like magic love wizards in that way.

"You ready Wends?" You muse from behind her, take her hand in yours. You were currently situated in her dorm room, the two of you alone; waiting for your parents to come.

"No." She replies, but not in a sarcastic or dry way. She sounds kind of...scared.

You poke her cheek and watch as she tries and swat your hand away.

"You look a little on edge." You observe, staring at the hairs on the back of her neck.

She's a little afraid if she tells you why she's nervous for this specific meeting she'll let it slip that she might've accidentally caught feelings for you.

Ugh. Feelings.

It's come to the point where she can actually say she has feelings for you. It’s pathetic, and quite frankly sickening.

"I'm fine. Let's just get this over with." She grumbles, and bursts through the door; leaving you standing dumbly in her room.

"Wednesday, darling how have you been?" Her mother drawls, smile on her lips as she speaks.

"I've been good mother. Apart from the gigantic monster that's trying to kill me. Actually, I think I'm having lots of fun." Wednesday says, looking over her moms shoulder to spy on you.

Just a little bit.

You look lively, and happy. It makes her feel weird in her tummy.

"My little storm cloud, what are you looking at?" Her father asks, watching Wednesday with keen eyes. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, but Addams were very observatrice people, and he could tell straight away when Wednesday has lost focus.

He follows his daughters gaze to a certain werewolf. He has to blink one more time to make sure he's not seeing things.

“Oh," He smiles, soft. "I see what's going on."

Wednesday turns sharply, face impassive.

"You don't see anything." She says hotly. Too fast for her normal speech.

Her mom smirks, catching on quick.

"Oh sweetie, we think it's cute. Our little storm cloud is in love." They coo, leaning forward to whisper with Wednesday.

The black hair girl scoffs, and folds her arms in front of her chest.

"I am not in love. I do not know what you are talking about." She replies.

"Sure you don't." Pugley adds, peeping in between his parents.

Wednesday suddenly feels hot underneath their gaze. She gets up abruptly, tilts her face up in hopes for some high ground.

"You all annoy me. This is why I don't write to you." She says before turning on her heel and heading over to you.

You stare at her with curious eyes as she walks toward you. Stops in front of you, hands stiff like a soldier.

"Hey? Whatcha doing?" You ask, pat the seat next to you. She ignores the feeling of something fluttering in her stomach when you accidentally touch fingertips.

"I would like to stay here with you. If you do not mind. My parents are being...unreasonable." She says, picking her words carefully.

You chuckle, smile softly.

"Of course you can stay here Wednesday. Come, come meet my family."

Wednesday’s heart almost jumps out her chest. She's really not one to be scared easily, but this was easily one of the most intense moments of her life.

She usually didn't care if anyone didn't like her, but there was an underlying nagging feeling that told her this was important. Your family was an essential part of you, and if she wanted to win you over; she had to win over your family too.

"I can't wait."

[nonclassyparty]

pretty on the outside [masterlist + preview]

summary:

just take off that disguise, everyone knows that you're only pretty on the outside

It's not a secret that you like to get around despite the trail of broken hearts you leave behind. Jeong Yunho, the sweetest prudish frat boy in the history of frat boys, is supposed to be just another guy you'd discard after you grew bored of him. Very soon, you realize you bit off more than you can chew and that Jeong Yunho might not be so easy to handle.

pairing: jeong yunho x reader, choi san x reader, mentions of past jung wooyoung x reader

status: work in progress

notes: *evil giggles* hello! enjoy the little preview of my new series that i'm working on (i will be using this post as a masterlist for it) and it won't be posted until i'm done with soot. it will have nine parts, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for it just reply below &lt;3

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // click to donate to Palestine

first chapter preview;

In his earliest surviving work of dramatic theory Poetics, Aristotle wrote, “A whole story is what has a beginning and middle and end.” This is not only fundamental to storytelling, it’s the closest reflection of an entire life cycle. It can be applied to anything in this life. Everything has a beginning, middle and end.

Which is why when San introduces you to his new girlfriend, you try not to be too bothered. Not only because it's his seventh new girlfriend this year but because, as all relationships, just like it had it's beginning and middle - it will have an end too.

Her name is Mijoo, her bleached hair is curled and looks slightly fried and the only thing that you've learned since she sat down with you is that her interests include pilates and taking care of her Instagram feed. They met at a frat party two weekends ago and hooked up in a stuffy room on the second floor, as romantic as it sounds.

San eats his lunch next to her while she scrolls through her phone and plays with her water bottle, looking absolutely unbothered that he barely knows his new girlfriend and seems like he has no intention of getting to know her better either. Hongjoong and you share a knowing look.

You can already tell that this is one of San's relationships where he calls it a relationship just so neither one of the parties participating feel like whores.

Still, the fact that he'd be in a relationship with just about anyone manages to leave a bitter taste in your mouth as you swallow down the last bite of your sandwich and clean your hands with a napkin.

You clear your throat, "I have to go. Have class in ten minutes."

San's head lifts up from the screen of his phone that he held in one hand as he ate, "You didn't answer if you're going to Vortex with us tonight?"

By 'us' he probably means him and his girlfriend and some of his other sleazy friends that he managed to make ever since he started going to the gym freshman year. It's definitely not Hongjoong because Hongjoong wouldn't be caught dead in a nightclub for college students that could only be classified as a dump.

You deadpanned, "It's a Wednesday."

San stares at you like he's not seeing the problem as Hongjoong snorts from next to you, "Like that's stopped you before."

You roll your eyes at him before looking back at San, trying not to dwell on the way his soft hair falls over his forehead. "I have my first midterm on Friday, so no."

"Ah, sucks." He says with a scrunched up nose and you look away quickly as you plaster on a smile that definitely looks sarcastic and a little sour.

"Well, see you guys later." You say, standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, "Bye."

San's new girlfriend gives you a sweet smile that makes you hate her.

You think about her and your own hypocrisy as you make your way to class. You barely spoke to her, she's done nothing to you and it's unfair to dislike her simply because she temporarily has...maybe the only person that you ever truly wanted but will never have.

You sigh as you pass through the door of the classroom that's already fairly filled out. The board stationed in the front filled out with a list of students attending the class, stops you in your tracks.

Partners assigned for Lab Exercise 1-3. is written in big bold letters at the top of the board.

You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes as you curse your professor who suggested this as an elective class. He said this class was a breeze to go through. Anything that has lab exercises is not a breeze.

Your eyes sweep over the list before they land on your own name. Y/L Y/N - Jeong Yunho, table 6.

Never heard of him, you think to yourself which isn't much of a surprise. The campus is huge, you'll always meet someone new.

Alas, you make your way to your designated table and are satisfied to find it empty which means you can slide to the seat near the window and hopefully make it know that it's your spot from now on.

You sit for the next ten minutes, scrolling down your phone and checking for your partner because almost all of the seats in the classroom are occupied by now and class is supposed to begin in two minutes. You'll be pissed if you have to do the first lab exercise alone.

Soon enough, a tall guy walking through the door a minute before the professor is supposed to show up catches your attention. He walks to the board, eyes roaming over it, he turns around and skims the classroom before his eyes stop on table labeled with a big number six and he makes eye contact with you.

You immediately look away through the window, trying to hide your grimace.

The guy, Jeong Yunho, even without ever meeting him before, looks undoubtedly like a frat boy.

A dark blue cap turned backwards sits on his head and his backpack hangs off of one shoulder. He's handsome in a boy-next-door type of way and tall. Definitely plays a sport of some sort (maybe soccer) judging by his broad shoulders and fit build. Frat boy and a jock. How boring.

"Hi." He greets you with a small smile that you return quietly with a squeamish smile as he sits down next to you. The smell of his cologne is instantly overwhelming. It's a smell that you can't describe as anything else except male and you feel like this is about to be the longest three weeks of your life. "I'm Yunho."

"Y/N." You say politely, again making eye contact with him that he tries his hardest to hold as he leans on the table by his elbows and his mouth quirks up. Oh God, here we go.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around, are you a Chemistry major as well and just new or is this your elective?" You blink at the question.

"Ah, yeah, this is an elective." You respond, glancing at the door again to see if the professor will show up soon. 

He hums, "The Chem branch is a really small circle here so everybody knows everybody by now, that's why I asked."

"Right." You blink at him again, observing this Jeong Yunho as he starts pulling out a notebook, calculator and a wide array of pens out of his backpack. The last frat boy you knew, Bangchan or Chris as they like to call him because his real name isn't sleazy enough, came to class with a pen and a folded piece of paper tucked in his back pocket.

So, maybe you're a little judgmental. Who isn't these days?

The class starts and Jeong Yunho continues to make you hide your surprise at him as he actively participates in the discussions. From what you can tell, he's very articulate and smart. 

That does absolutely nothing for you but still, it's a little surprising. 

Not because you think all frat boys and jocks are stupid or something (even though most are, you know from experience) but because the way he speaks and carries himself is nothing but respectful and nice and it just does not fit the stereotype. An hour in, you expected at least a crude joke during the presentation but it never came. Hm.

Since you were extremely competitive, you wanted nothing more than to beat him to answering the professor's questions but you knew jackshit about polymer chemistry so all you could do is sit, faintly annoyed, watching someone be better than you.

After class is done and you're packing your stuff while texting Yeosang, Yunho gently touches your elbow with his fingers to get your attention. You turn to him and he quickly withdraws his hand.

"Would you like to...uh, go work on the exercise at a coffee shop nearby? I think it would be good to get a head start since we're not yet busy with out other, actually important, classes." He chuckles before checking the watch around his wrist, "I have free time now."

You bite your lip, thinking it would probably be the smart thing to do but you were texting Yeosang. Making plans to see him. Scratch that, making plans to fuck him.

"Uh, how long would it take exactly? Just so I can organize the rest of my day-"

"Oh, well, I have practice at six-thirty so I was thinking until six." He shrugs, his backpack hanging over one shoulder and making him look like a poster for golden college boys. "Does that work for you?"

It works better than having to work on the exercises on other days of the week. It just means seeing Jeong Yunho more than necessary, one day a week is perfectly enough in his presence.

You bite your lip again, glancing at your screen one last time before texting Yeosang that you'll see him at seven. "Yeah, let's go."

Yunho leads you to a coffee shop near campus that you've never heard of. Hidden deep between buildings and almost entirely empty, there's no regular customers let alone anyone from campus.

"I study here sometimes if the library is full. Nobody comes here." He chuckles, holding the door open for you and motioning for you to go in. He almost seems shy to let you know that he goes to the library. It's, unfortunately, kind of cute.

After you both order and make yourself comfortable in the small booth you've picked out, you start to work on the assignment. Yunho leads the way, as a Chemistry major, he's much more well versed in this subject. You, a future engineer, are completely lost so you just scribble down whatever he does and keep quiet.

He likes to talk a lot, you notice, after every done question, he makes sure to ask about you, your interests, hobbies, whatever and you shut it down every time with a dry response.

It's not that you dislike him, really it's not. It's not even that he's a frat boy and a jock that bothers you anymore because it's obvious that he's a little bit of a nerd as well. It's that, in the hour and a half that you've spent sitting here with him, you realized just how much he reminds you of San.

And that's enough to make you keep your distance from him. You don't want him, you don't want anyone like San.

The corny jokes, shy smiles, a blush that spreads all the way to his ears when he gets flustered, attempts to be cocky but then growing absolutely embarrassed by it that it ends up being endearing - it's all very San-like. And it's a version of San that not many people know. 

Once it starts nearing six and you both start packing up your things, Yunho clears his throat next to you.

"So, uh, would you be interested in getting a cup of coffee sometime, like, in a non polymer chemistry related way?" He nervously stutters out, ears already burning red. You slow down the action of pulling your jacket on as your phone is in one hand, the chat with Yeosang opened.

Maybe you should've seen this coming. 

He wasn't shy about the fact that he found you attractive since the moment he sat down next to you. You just didn't expect for this to happen so soon. Geez, how awkward will the next three weeks be after today.

You sigh, pulling your dark red hair from under your jacket. "No offense Yunho, you seem nice and all but you're not my type."

He seems almost offended by that as he chuckles, "You barely even know me?"

You give him a once over.

The matter of fact was that you did not, under any circumstance, date anyone or get into relationships. You had hook-ups, one night stands and no strings attached agreements.

If there was any way to describe your mindset it would be pretty simple - men, women, people you were attracted to - you treat them like horderves served in front of you. You'll take a bite (might save some for later) but that's about it, you make sure not to get full because there's way too many flavors, too many of them to try, taste, pick apart...

And if someone really managed to impress you, maybe you'd pick another plate up.

But that didn't happen often and when it did, it usually didn't last.

Jeong Yunho, in every single way, reeked of romance and good intentions.

 The typical boy next door type. He seemed like a momma's boy that wanted a proper and traditional relationship, brought flowers and texted you 'good night' and 'good morning' religiously and had extremely romantic but bland missionary sex. The type to want you to wear his jersey to his games so he could take cheesy photos with you in it and, if he was religious, maybe he'd want you to go to church with him on Sundays. He was the last thing you needed.

If Hongjoong and Seonghwa found you with someone like him, they'd never let you live it down.

You open your mouth to respond to him but your phone rings and you look at it - a photo of Yeosang lighting up the screen. He's always so impatient. You told him at seven, why is he calling already?

You wave your phone in front of Yunho's face, pointing out Yeosang's photo that you took one drunken night while the two of you were messing around after leaving the club and that you've been using as his contact photo ever since where he's in all black, long hair tucked behind his ear as he lights up a cigarette, "My type."

Yunho blinks at the photo before looking at you again resembling a kicked puppy, you sigh feeling only slightly bad but still you have to say something more out of courtesy. "I have to go, I'm sorry if I seemed rude or something, it wasn't intentional and nothing against you but I'm not interested. I hope we do well on the lab exercise though."

He opens his mouth to say something else but you're already standing up and walking towards the entrance of the small, dingy coffee shop.

The discomfort you feel is only temporary because, once again, everything has its beginning, middle and end. This 'partnership' with Yunho will end soon so why bother yourself by feeling guilty.

[hislittleraincloud]

I'm confused (but not at ALL hating on!) the concept of Wenovan. I guess I could say I'm confused how they work together and how their age gap isn't a strange thing to you (again, not trying to hate OR come off as passive aggressive!!)

I understand that you (I do think it was you) mentioned that it's similar to Cairo and Mr. Miller. I'm confused on how exactly Wenovan relates to Cairo and Miller though, when their situations are much, much different (a barely grown high schooler lusting after her English teacher and a freshly 16 year old and her sort of ex's dad who hated her dad and tries to stop her from butting into a close case).

Also age gap thing, like I said.

I really do hope that this doesn't come off as rude or passive aggressive or anything, I know the part comparing Miller's girl and Wenovan definitely sounds that way (even to me) but I pinky swear I really don't mean for it to. I'm just curious about your thought process with all of this, that's all.

To answer this means examining both Wednesday and Cairo as characters and how they relate to those around them. That means comparing both, and I've been meaning to do this since I learned of MG (through a fic wife and an anon).

Like I had written in shortform before when I ranked on Ortega for being a bit airheaded when she said she'd never read a character like Cairo before: Both Wednesday and Cairo are (supposed to be, there's evidence in both canon that they're not) gifted characters whose vocabularies allow them to write the stuff that they write as aspiring authors (I would actually say that Wednesday is the better writer). They both live in 'haunted mansions', they both love their solitude/find interests in books over ✨boys✨, and their one goal in life seems to be to harass the old men around them into spending time with them.

You don't have to see a direct parallel, because it becomes more direct in my portrayal of Wednesday, i.e. 'Afterburn Wednesday'. I was wholly unaware of Miller's Girl (well before it came out, and before I was sent the old script) when someone told me that it sounded like Afterburn Wednesday, and that was before I published Chapter 7.

Chapter 7 contains a flashback where Wednesday is trying to seduce her English professor. After she goes to him about her research paper/midterm. Because she asked if she could do it on a controversial book/author, and he was now telling her that it might not be appropriate.

🤦🏽‍♂️

It's about a type, not about all sixteen year old girls. Given how scarily similar my passage is to that of the premise of MG, ABW draws from the same archetype/the Precocious Girl trope (type).

I wouldn't be able to write this stuff about Enid Sinclair (though I tried to conceptualize it, and now that I look back on those notes, it just doesn't work well and would have to be a complete AU), or most of the other Nevermore girls that we know. It doesn't work like that. And the type that I read from the show is the same rare type that can be read from Cairo (Wednesday actually strikes me as slightly smarter than Cairo--she definitely would have a better shot at Yale than Cairo LOL--but we also have to consider the two different worlds). No, there was no literal romantic entanglement between Wenovan on the show, but there was an entanglement, starting with the little grin she gave him after he threatened to keep his eye on her all the way to the end when she warned him that his own son would turn on him too.

And that type who hates being around high school things and high school boys and types her novels on an old typewriter in 2022 and listens to records on a freaking gramophone* wouldn't think much of a man's age more than he is a man who can offer her intellectual stimulation (among other things 🫠). I hate to sound like Winnie Black's parrot, but hot slabs of man meat trump deli meat every single time. Pretty sure I recently reblogged someone's post about that.

Hope that helps.

*ETA: There are canon indications that Cairo also likes 'old'/vintage things too (she uses corded earbuds, listens to Celine Dion and the Gin Blossoms, watches old movies, is obsessed with a classic porn writer, etc.)

[astralaffairs]

voltaire to versace 04 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 04

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 7.4k

warnings: this one is chill just like sexual tension. sorry ive been gone for two years lol

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @cubedtriangle @lunariasilver @lexylovesfandoms @fanfic-addict-98 @stephyra17 @notebookgirl30 @exorcisms-with-elmo @kmsmedine @itshaileyn @honeyand-roses @laic2299 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @luckyfriesss @golddiggs-x @drreamhugs @sillyteecup @notebookgirl30 @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow— let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

SHE STILL FINISHED grading the first round of essays for Thomas, but she dropped them off at the faculty mailboxes that Sunday afternoon — she couldn't face him at that point. On Monday, she gravitated back to her seat at the rear of his lecture hall. She did the same on Wednesday.

Her responses to his emails and his texts were short and to-the-point. He needed her to grade the recent papers from his International Security class? Sure, but she was busy during his office hours; any chance he could leave them in his mailbox so she could pick them up the next morning? Thanks, that'd be great. He wanted her to work with him on laying out the rubric for an essay? No problem. She'd set up a shared Google Doc right away.

It was a week after Y/N had last spoken to Thomas that Dolley was over his apartment that weekend with James. She was smug when she came home to Y/N.

"Thomas is looking for you," she said mildly, and Y/N glanced up from her laptop on the couch with a skeptical gaze.

"And what, exactly, makes you say that?"

"He asked me to tell you."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously?"

"Mhm." Dolley's smile was self-pleased. "He was home when I was over, and he said he needed to talk to you."

"Thanks for letting me know." Y/N's voice was tense as she looked back to the paper she was writing, and Dolley took a seat beside her with a glass of water.

"Can I ask why that might be?"

"No clue."

"So are you going to talk to him?"

"I have class with him Monday. I'll see him then."

"Y/N." She gave her a deadpanned look, and Y/N looked tired when she met her eyes. "Did something happen? You haven't mentioned his name even once all this week."

"No, everything's fine," Y/N assured her, but Dolley looked less than convinced.

"Then why do you look so unhappy right now, dear?"

"What? I don't," she replied defensively, and Dolley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"How daft do you think I am?" she asked, folding her arms after she put her glass on their coffee table. "You can deny wanting to sleep with him all you'd like, but I know how much you like Thomas. It isn't exactly subtle. So what happened with you two?"

Y/N sighed, rubbing the side of her nose. "It's not really that big of a deal. I'm probably blowing it out of proportion, but he drove me home from the party at their apartment last weekend, and..."

"And?"

"And I came onto him." She was wincing at even the memory. "I was drunk, though, and he knew that, but it was so stupid. I'm still kind of mortified, so I've been dodging his attempts to talk to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to face him."

Dolley took a deep breath, eyeing Y/N where she sat with her head in her hands, her laptop closed on her lap. "Well, he clearly wants you to talk to him, so I'm sure he didn't think it was quite so bad."

"But I'm gonna be an anxious wreck the next time I have to talk to him," she groaned.

"You're his TA and his student," Dolley pointed out. "You can't avoid him forever."

"I'm not trying to," Y/N said. "But… y'know. I can still put it off for a little while. Midterms are only a week away, and then it's spring break. If I can make it that far, I don't have to talk to him until fourth quarter."

"You're being ridiculous."

“I’m being practical,” she replied, “besides, it’s only two weeks till break. The only time I’m gonna need to talk to him is when I turn in my midterm.”

Dolley snorted. “I’d wish you luck, but this one’s a lost cause, dear.”

————————————

IN THE END, Dolley was right. He hardly let her get away with it for more than a week.

"Y/N, can I have a word?"

She cringed.

It was 6 PM on Wednesday; the rest of her class was filing out of the lecture hall, but she paused where she stood in the row second to last. She'd already turned to leave. She shifted on her feet as she turned to Thomas, pulled her bag further up her shoulder, but when she saw him standing at the front of the room, arms folded and brow creased as he watched her, she couldn't meet his eyes.

Her classmates shot her curious looks as they left — Thomas never asked students to stay after class. If something was wrong, he sent them emails, he asked them to come to his office hours, he’d even used Twitter messages to reach people before, but he never publicly asked someone to hang back. She’d learned that it was against his ethos as a professor; he’d told her a story or two of his college days that made her understand why.

However, as much attention as this anomaly in his behavior drew, she had a feeling she knew why he wanted a word with her. She slumped back into her chair beside the aisle until everyone else was gone, and finally, the door fell shut, echoed through the hall, and she approached Thomas's desk with a looming sense of dread. He glanced up from packing his bag.

"Hey."

"Hey." Her voice was hesitant. "You couldn't have just approached me after the class got out?"

"In my defense," he started, "you haven't been makin' yourself all that easy to find. Everything okay lately?"

He was watching her expectantly, an eyebrow raised, and she folded her arms. "Yeah. Just fine."

"Then lemme rephrase that." Then, he turned fully toward her, his bag pulled shut and pushed aside. He frowned. "Why've you been avoiding me?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What? I'm not."

"Yes, you are." The words left no room for negotiation, and she sighed. "And I mean, 's your prerogative. You've still been comin' through as a TA, so I'm not about to try and criticize you, but can I at least get an explanation?"

He looked pretty frustrated for someone who wasn't about to try and criticize her.

"You're not that oblivious," she said. "I have a feeling you know why."

Several moments passed in a tense silence. He was eyeing her tentatively, unmoving, and she couldn't meet his scrutinizing gaze, shifting on her feet. Finally, he sighed.

"The party?"

"Got it in one."

To her surprise, he let out a dry huff of laughter. "To be honest, I'm surprised you even remember that."

"I kinda wish I didn't."

Thomas offered her a reluctant smile. "I hear that. But..." He hesitated. "Which part of that night’s still bothering you?”

Y/N furrowed her brow, looking back up toward him. "Seriously?”

She figured it was obvious. Trying to seduce your professor while well-past drunk seemed like a clear, egregious issue, and she wasn’t quite sure why he was playing dumb.

"After all that time you spent avoidin’ me, you've gotta know what I'm talkin' about. C'mon." She stared at him blankly for another moment, and finally, he sighed. "Nevermind. I'm sorry about what happened then. We don't have to keep discussin' it if you don't wanna."

"No, hang on, what are you sorry for?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice, and he raised an eyebrow. She hesitated before she went on, "I... I'm sorry for coming onto you like that. It was really stupid, and I know I crossed a line, but that's all my own fault; I don't—"

"You were drunk. Don't feel bad about it," he said reasonably. She was searching his apologetic expression as he spoke; she couldn't fathom why he looked guilty. Had something happened that she didn't remember?

"But why are you apologizing?" she asked softly, creasing her forehead. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I got real close to doin' something I shouldn't, though," he said, carding a hand through his curls. "I shouldn't have let it get that far. 'Specially not when you were drunk. I got too close to crossing that line."

"Too close to..." Y/N repeated, trailing off with her brow furrowed, but that was when it hit her. Had she not been so mortified by her own actions, she realized, she'd have been dwelling instead on the way his hands had tightened around her waist, how he'd pulled her into himself with a bruising grip when she tugged at his hair. That evening, she'd convinced herself he was going to spend the night. "Oh."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard, hands tucked into his pockets. "So, 'm sorry. I should've shut that down, and I get why you've been keepin' your distance."

"No, no, relax." She dismissed his apology with a flippant wave of her hand. "I was in the wrong. You were trying to be considerate."

"You're givin' me too much credit," he sighed, and a flicker of a smile graced her lips.

"I wouldn't say that," she argued, and she hesitated, cocked a brow before adding, "Unless, of course, you had an ulterior motive for insisting on taking me home in the middle of the night?"

His eyes widened. "Oh! Jesus, no, I swear, I didn't— I wouldn't..." As an amused grin split Y/N's controlled expression, though, he trailed off, squinting at her. "You're just messin' with me, aren't you?"

“Maybe,” she answered mildly, giving an innocent shrug. He scowled. “But, really, Thomas, it’s fine. We can forget it ever happened, okay?”

He watched her warily as she offered him a tense smile. He wasn't sure it was fine, and quite frankly, he knew he'd have a hard time forgetting it ever happened — he felt like there was more left to say.

But as his pause stretched on, as she raised her eyebrows at his uncharacteristic silence, he didn't have the words.

"You sure?" was all he finally said.

"Yeah."

“Alright.” He eyed her for another moment, wary, before he pulled his bag up onto his shoulder. "That’s good. I… guess I'll see you around. Good luck with midterms, Y/N."

She didn't miss the final, unreadable once-over he gave her before starting up the stairs out of the lecture hall. She didn't go after him.

————————————————

WHAT FOLLOWED WAS midterms week, which came and went without much pomp or circumstance. She didn't see much of Thomas that week after finishing with his test, which was more intentional than she’d like to have admitted. On Friday night, she finished grading the papers he'd delegated to her, but she just left them in his mailbox.

When Saturday afternoon rolled around, she was perched on the couch in her apartment flipping through the same Netflix suggestions she'd been seeing for the past hour. She'd had an incredibly relaxed day, and she assumed it would stay as such until Dolley came bursting in with a wide grin.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Where are you coming from looking so excited?"

"James's."

"Ah." No further questions were necessary, but when Dolley circled around to stand right between Y/N and the television, it was clear something more was up — something Y/N had no interest in finding out about. "Do you mind? I was watching that."

"Oh, please. No, you weren't," Dolley scoffed, but her eyes were alight despite her contrived annoyance.

"Well, I was going to," Y/N grumbled, and Dolley could only smile.

"You're going to want to hear what I have to say."

"Am I?"

"Certainly." Y/N raised an expectant brow when Dolley took a step closer to her. "Spring break just started."

"What else is new?"

"James's family has a home in the Outer Banks."

"Good for him." Y/N's responses were short as she tried to lean around Dolley, scrolling through the 'New to Netflix' category. Dolley groaned, rolled her eyes. Y/N's noises of protest went entirely ignored as Dolley pulled her remote from her hand, and she deadpanned as Dolley rested her hands on her shoulders, sitting down to straddle her lap on the couch. "Seriously?" Y/N whined.

"And we are going to the Outer Banks for spring break."

"I'm sorry, what?" She let out a dry laugh at the conviction in Dolley's voice. "Alright, maybe you're going to the Outer Banks over break, but last I checked, James and I aren't exactly on the level of road trip buddies."

"Please consider it. He told me I could invite you."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because he likes you. Not because he wants me there."

"Oh, what does it matter?" she whined. "An invitation is an invitation. James just doesn't know you yet. I'm sure he'll come to love you."

"I don't care," Y/N groaned, shoving her off, and Dolley rolled off to sit beside her on the couch with a huff. "As much as I love you, I refuse to let your infatuation with James take over my social life."

"What social life?" Dolley scoffed. "I've already taken it over. Now I'm just adding James."

"Hey, I have other friends," Y/N said, but Dolley gave her a disbelieving look.

"Your professors and your study groups don't count."

"There's also the kid I see every day in the library," Y/N defended. "He's the only other one on the sixth floor."

"Do you even know his name?"

She hesitated. "That's not relevant."

"Darling," Dolley groaned, shifting onto her side to face Y/N. "Just come with me. It'll be fun. And I'm sure James is bringing Thomas; after all, they're roommates."

"That doesn't add to the appeal, Doll." Y/N wasn’t sure she trusted herself on a vacation spent with him in the Outer Banks, sleeping in the same house as him, trying not to stare at him shirtless on the beach. "I let you drag me to their apartment for a night, and it ended up sucking. I'm not gonna subject myself to that for a whole week."

"Ten days," Dolley corrected her.

"That's worse." Y/N’s huff was heavy, and as she raked a hand through her hair, Dolley wore a pout. “Besides, I can’t. I have that scholarship dinner thing, remember? I have to wine and dine all the donors.”

Dolley wrinkled her nose. “I forgot about those. I’ve always thought they were exploitative.”

“Oh, they are,” Y/N agreed, “but they’re giving me too much money for me to be able to complain. I can be their little academic Miss America for a night as long as they keep paying my tuition.”

Dolley hummed in acquiescence as Y/N returned to scrolling through her suggested shows on Netflix. “So it’s like a beauty pageant, but instead of hair extensions, you bring your resume.”

“Feels more like a strip club. I had to go to two at my old school, and it’s just putting on a show to get rich, wrinkled old men to throw us a few bucks. May as well wear a g-string and try to find myself a sugar daddy.”

“Mmh, let me know if any of your DILFs have pretty sons, alright?”

Y/N gave Dolley a skeptical look. “You’ve already got James; leave the rich legacy boys for me.”

“Sharing is caring.”

———————————————

ULTIMATELY, DOLLEY WENT to the Outer Banks without her. She left the next morning (but apparently couldn't leave without giving Y/N a serious tongue-lashing). And from there, Y/N was left to fend for herself.

The first couple days were fine. She ate the remainder of the groceries in the apartment. She watched seven seasons of Grey's Anatomy before deciding she hated all the characters. She cleaned out the fridge. She drank Dolley's nice red wine (with no plans to replace it). She organized her sock drawer.

Alright, so maybe she was going a little stir-crazy in Dolley's absence. So much for her having a social life outside of that apartment.

However, she didn't leave until she was clean out of food, bourbon, and episodes of SVU.

She was just around the corner from the nice CVS, though, so when she left, she didn't particularly expect to have any reason to look her best — if any of her classmates saw her in her pajama pants, it was far from her greatest concern.

She emerged with two white plastic bags, both stretching around the edges of the fruits of her pseudo-grocery run; the fact that she hadn't bought anything with nearly the nutritional value of actual fruit was beside the point. Regardless, she was feeling rather self-satisfied as she turned onto the sidewalk headed back to her apartment, arms weighed down with junk food, holding her CVS rewards card in the corner of her mouth, lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to re-organize her wallet — but apparently, she was too preoccupied to realize what was immediately in front of her as she took the next left.

"Woah, there."

She screeched as she ran directly into the man on the other side of the corner. As she stumbled backward, not managing to spare herself from falling on her ass, two of her grocery bags went tumbling to the ground; three split right through the bottom of the plastic, and as her pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream rolled to the feet of her accidental assailant, she let out a defeated groan.

She dropped her shoulders with an angry huff, and when the man before her leaned down to pick up the ice cream she'd spent the past week working up the energy to leave the house for, her gaze followed it up as he rose.

"Mint chip? Really?" When she caught sight of Thomas's amused expression, the exhaustion on her shoulders only compounded. He'd clearly been out running; he ran a hand through his curls, wiped the sweat from his brow as he popped out one of his earbuds. "You've got some awful taste, there."

"Of course, it's you," she grumbled. "Because I couldn't have been bulldozed by some stranger to, at least, spare myself the humiliation."

His smile was entertained as she dusted herself off, sparing what she could of her CVS haul, tucking her rewards card into her wallet and her pack of razor heads into her purse before she stood. "I think this belongs to you?"

"Yeah, yeah." The annoyance was clear in her voice when she looked up to see his outstretched hand, offering her back the ice cream, but (although she took the pint back immediately, as her priorities were still in order) that wasn't where her gaze stopped, instead trailing up his arm to his heaving (bare) chest and the earbuds hanging loosely from one of his ears. Her breath caught in her throat.

Sweat trailed down his torso to his abs, glistening in the mid-morning sunlight and drawing her eyes down to the waist of his sweatpants where they hung low on his hips. Her stare was only broken when he pulled his headphones out, wrapping them around his hand and yanking her gaze back up to his arms. The shift didn't help; instead, she couldn't break her wide-eyed, gawking stare from his biceps.

"Y/N?"

She was jolted back to earth with a start at the sound of his voice as he stuffed his earbuds into his pocket. His grin was broad, and her cheeks were on fire. "Shit, sorry, I, um—"

"Relax, it's fine," he said, tucking his phone in his pocket. "Need a hand with your, uh..." He picked up her extra-large jar of Nutella, "groceries?"

As he watched her expectantly, she swallowed hard, shaking her head with a tense smile. "No, no, that's fine," she assured him. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your run. I can manage."

He quirked a brow. "You sure? You're gonna have a hell of a time carryin' all of these on your own."

"I don't live far."

"I know," he said, and as she did her best to collect all her goods from the pavement around them, he did the same, "but there's no way you can get these all back by hand."

"I'll be alright," she said, her words taking on an undertone of annoyance (although it was ultimately born of her unease). Thomas didn't look so convinced.

"C'mon, just lemme help you out?" he reasoned with her, and as she tried to pull her purse shut around her two bags of mini tacos, balancing a package of laundry detergent pods on her lifted knee, she couldn't put up too much resistance. "You 'n I both know you need it."

Y/N pursed her lips. "Fine. Thank you."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Call me crazy, but you don't sound too grateful, now."

"Let's just go."

Though it took them a moment longer, between them, they did manage to balance all of her quasi-groceries in their arms, and Y/N nodded in the direction Thomas had been coming from. "My apartment is back this way."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Still?"

He shrugged. "I'm good with directions. And I've taken you back there twice, now."

"Right.” Against her will, the memories from those two separate nights began to surface in her mind, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. “How could I forget?”

Her tone was dry, uncomfortable, but to her relief, Thomas laughed it off.

"Someone's feelin' hostile today, huh?" he commented. Although she rolled her eyes, her face was burning; his presence had her on edge, reacting to even the smallest of his movements, and she was still trying to shake off how mortified she was from having run into him in the first place.

"Sorry. I'm just tired." He raised an eyebrow. "My sleep schedule's been all over the place without Dolley around to nag me about it."

"Oh, yeah, she's outta town with James, huh?" She hummed in confirmation. “Why didn’t you end up goin’ with ‘em? James told me he invited you.”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah, he invited me as an extension of Dolley because he wanted her there. I’m much happier alone in my apartment than stuck in the Outer Banks with people I hardly know.”

“Yeah, you ‘n me both.”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “I thought these were your friends that were going.”

He shrugged. “James ended up bringin’ a lotta grad students I’ve never met. Some undergrads in there, too. Would’ve been a shitty ten days, ‘specially once he let me know you weren’t comin’.”

“‘Especially once you knew I wasn’t coming’?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself,” he replied. “I stayed behind ‘cause I knew I could pawn more papers off on you to grade.”

“Well, that is part of my charm,” she said frankly, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“That and the pajamas you’re always wearin’ around campus?”

“Oh, come on, I’ve seen you when I was wearing pajamas once. That’s it.”

He hummed skeptically, and she glanced up at him as they walked. “I know you’re no math major, but addin’ today to the day you stormed into my office makes two days, not one.”

“Today doesn’t count,” she argued. “The plan was to go to CVS, go back home, and interact with nobody. Besides, you’re not even wearing a shirt, so it’s not like you have any room to judge.”

“At least you know that I own shirts, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you only own pajamas, sweetheart. Didn’t think I had to spell it out for you,” he said matter-of-factly, casting her a sidelong glance, and while his expression was playful, she could feel her cheeks flush.

“Oh, shut up; you know that isn’t true,” she defended. “Just because I’m partial to my sweatpants doesn’t mean I can’t dress up when need be. I have nice clothes.”

He eyed her skeptically. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

————————————

IT TOOK THE pair of them just a few minutes to reach Y/N’s apartment building, but it took several more for them to actually make it up to her apartment. Trying to get the door unlocked without dropping anything was a fiasco — it ended in one of her mini Coke cans rolling down the hall, no doubt fated to explode the minute she opened it, and a bag of pizza rolls splitting open at the corner when she dropped it. Thomas had little sympathy for her complaints about them being exposed to carpet germs.

"Thank you for all the help." Y/N turned to Thomas with a sheepish smile when she finally put her groceries down. "Sorry for ruining your workout."

"Don't mention it." He dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand after he put the rest of her things down into the pile she'd started. "After all, you're tiring enough that it doesn't make a difference."

"Shut up." Despite her scowl, he snickered, and she rolled her eyes as she went to open her fridge. "I should put everything away so it doesn't go bad, but is there anything I can get you as a 'thank you'? A drink? Something to eat?"

"This just your way of askin' me to stay longer?" He raised a teasing eyebrow, but when she turned to him, her eyes were wide.

“Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean… I mean, you don’t have to, I just—”

“Woah, relax.” His voice held a trace of a laugh at the panic that was slowly dissipating from her gaze. “I was kiddin’, alright? Didn’t mean to rattle you like that.”

“I’m not rattled,” she defended, closing her fridge, and she could feel her cheeks heating up as he eyed her with disbelief. “I just felt like I owed you something for all the help. I know I kinda derailed your day."

"I told you, it wasn't a problem," he said mildly. “But, y’know, if you wanna pay me back, I’ve got a whole lot more papers that need gradin’.”

Her groan made him laugh. “God, please don’t make me regret becoming your TA. I have better things to do with my spring break.”

“Like what?”

“Like eating all the ice cream I just bought?” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and he rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, if I give you the rubric, you really can’t multitask?”

She sighed. “Yeah, alright, if you really need the help. I’ll come to pick them up sometime this week if that works for you?”

“That’s just fine. I wasn’t plannin’ on going into my office, though, so you’ll have to swing by my apartment.” Her most vivid memories of the last time she’d been at his place flashed in her mind’s eye. “That okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat when she realized how long her moment of hesitation had been. He creased his brow. “Just tell me what time you’ll be home. I won’t have any scheduling conflicts.”

“What, you don’t have any big parties on the calendar?” he asked, cracking a lopsided grin, and she let out the lightest of laughs, the sound quiet and forced. “You aren’t gonna find yourself gettin’ arrested when a professor calls the cops on your rager?”

“Nah, not this time,” she said. Her smile was stiff, and he pursed his lips as he watched her continue unpacking her groceries, bending down to tuck various packages into different cupboards.

“Good to know,” he replied. In the pause that followed, Y/N was aware of every twitch of every muscle in her body; she could feel his eyes on her as she moved through her space. “I’ll text you when I sort ‘em out, then.”

“Cool.” Her mouth was dry. She didn’t look his way.

“Alright.” The hum of the fridge had never sounded louder. They could hear footsteps on an adjacent floor of the building and the soft buzz of their AC unit. Y/N swallowed. His next words were cautious. “So, should I, uh, head on out, then?”

Her eyebrows jumped. When she turned her head to look at him, she realized he hadn’t moved from his spot. She shrugged hesitantly.

“I mean, it’s your call.” His gaze flitted away from her when she met his eyes. “If you have somewhere to be, I don’t wanna keep you. I can finish putting my food away.”

“Wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome is all. I dunno if I should be spendin’ any more time in your apartment than I need to.” His expression was nonchalant, uncaring, but his shoulders were tense. She could see the tendons in his upper arms twitching, and it was only then that she was reminded that he was, in fact, very shirtless in her kitchen.

He glanced back at her with tentative eyes.

“That might be smart.” She stood up to her full height, looking down at the counter before her. “It’s getting kinda late anyway. You should probably head back before it gets dark.”

It was nowhere near sundown, but the message was certainly received, and Thomas nodded. “‘Course. I’ll see myself out.”

“Thanks for the help with the groceries,” Y/N said softly, and he smiled.

“Anytime,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

———————————————

“WHAT CLASS GOT a multiple choice midterm?” The indignance in Y/N’s voice made Thomas laugh.

“The freshmen.”

They were at Thomas’s apartment. Dolley and James would still be gone on their road trip for five more days, though, and that left them living alone about a block away from each other. Y/N wasn’t sure she knew where they stood, but when she went to pick up the midterms Thomas needed her to grade, he first had to walk her through the rubric. Then she started asking questions, and they both ended up sitting; then Thomas returned to sipping his coffee, and Y/N started leafing through one of the papers with a pen, and it only made sense for her to stay.

At least, that was how she justified it to herself as she reached the end of her second hour parked on his couch.

“I swear to god, you coddle those freshmen,” she said, twirling her pen absentmindedly as she went through the answer key. She scowled. “And they’re still getting, like, 25% off.”

“See? I’ve gotta coddle ‘em,” he defended. “If I make that class any harder, I’m gonna have a full class of Fs on my record. Won’t be gettin’ tenure, that’s for sure.”

“If you treated them like they were competent, maybe they’d be forced to learn,” she suggested, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. When you finish grading ‘em, d’you mind calculating the curve for me?”

“This is curved?” Her tone bordered on genuine annoyance, but her dramatic reaction was only entertaining Thomas. “I’m gonna need another cup of coffee to get through this.”

“Now, this feels exploitive.”

“You don’t even pay me to TA,” she pointed out. “With the bullshit I put up with, you owe me a drink from that fancy espresso machine you have tucked away.”

“Aw, c’mon, is workin’ with me really so bad, sweetheart?” He plastered on a pout, but the casual term of endearment made her pulse jump. It didn’t feel so natural to hear him call her that anymore.

"Don't get me started," she said, but she knew how shaky she sounded. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice (and if he did, he didn't mention it).

“Alright, alright. I was just headed to get myself another, anyway.” He acquiesced easily, and she was all but relieved when he left the room, taking both their mugs with him.

She wanted there to be a way for her to shake off any of the nerves he always seemed to leave her with. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair — he was her professor. He used terms of endearment without a second thought. She needed to stop overthinking it, especially given that she’d heard him call both Maria and Angelica “darling” and “honey” on more than one occasion. “Sweetheart” seemed to be reserved for her, though.

Stop thinking like that.

She cringed as the observation surfaced. She knew she was reading into it, and her mind was running a mile a minute to try and replace the idea with something else, any kind of distraction. She decided to chalk it all up to the caffeine she’d been consuming en masse.

So maybe another latte wasn’t the greatest idea. She pushed herself off of his couch with a grunt.

All she wanted was a glass of water, so she didn't expect that there'd be any problem with her just barging into his kitchen since she was already at his place.

But she'd just turned into the kitchen's doorway, and Thomas wouldn't have minded it if she hadn't turned with the worst timing imaginable.

"Oh, fuck." She felt the coffee scalding her skin before she processed what'd happened. Her grimace was involuntary and pronounced as she stumbled away from him, pulling the back of her shirt as far away from her body as she could. "Shit, shit, shit, that's hot."

"Jesus, are you alright?" It wasn't until a split second later that she turned to see Thomas standing behind her, mortified and frantically going to set down his mugs so he could go to check on her.

But she only shook her head, doing her best to regulate her breathing, control her expression despite the searing pain across her upper back. “Shit, I—” Her voice broke off as she swallowed hard, far from concerned with being a considerate guest when she pushed past him into his kitchen. Thomas was frozen to the spot, watching her rush to the sink and frantically yanking off the nozzle of his sink to run cold water over her shoulder blade (she’d never been more grateful for his bougie interior design). Her focus was nowhere near him.

She had no clue how to treat a burn. However, she didn’t think twice before tearing her shirt off — it was searing her skin.

Her tunnel vision may have blinded her to the larger context of her panic (and for good reason, all things considered), but Thomas was stunned as he watched her strip off her button-down in the middle of his kitchen, run it under water to use it as a rag. She tucked it under her left bra strap so that she could press the cold cloth directly against the burn.

Thomas was gawking. When Y/N caught her breath, turning to him, she met his eyes, and— well, actually, she didn’t meet his eyes. His gaze was focused a good ten inches below her eyes, and she chose to conclude that he was staring at her chest because he was concerned about having burnt her with coffee. The fact that not even a drop of the scalding coffee had touched her chest was a nonissue.

“Do you know anything about treating burns?”

“Not…” He cleared his throat, redirecting his stare up to where her eyes actually were. “Not much. I— Holy shit, are you alright? God… lemme Google it. Hang on.” She tried to catch her breath as Thomas pulled out his phone, and the first thing he said was, “Alright, says you’ve gotta get rid of any clothes over the burn.” He glanced back up at her. “Looks like you’ve got that covered, though.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out for myself. Thanks.” Her tone was dry.

“Right.” Thomas cleared his throat. “You wanna use my shower to run it under cold water, then?”

She nodded frantically, grimacing as she pulled her damp shirt out from under her bra strap, holding that as far from her skin as she could without her bra coming off. “Please.”

It took just about all of Thomas’s willpower to keep his gaze north of her collarbones as he showed her where the bathroom was and told her how to work the shower. If any god happened to be real, he was fairly sure he was being tested that afternoon — and all because he didn’t feel like calculating the curve on his midterms. He could safely say that this was far more difficult.

He gave her a towel and some of his spare clothes to change into, but when she dug the Neosporin out of his medicine cabinet, he heard her call his name.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Everything alright in there?”

“Yeah, I just…” Her voice was muffled as she trailed off. “I can’t reach the burn.”

“Oh.” He swallowed audibly, although Y/N was far enough that she couldn’t hear it. “D’you… need help?”

“Please.” Her voice was hesitant and nervous.

“Can… can I come in?”

“Yeah, just hang on a second.” There was a pause. Y/N didn't meet his eyes when she came to open the door; she held a towel over her bra-clad chest, one of the straps having slipped off the side of her left shoulder. "I, er… can't reach my back to bandage it. Can you… ?"

Thomas's eyes widened. "Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I've got it."

"Thanks," she said quietly, and when she turned to the sink, passing him the ointment and gauze as she faced the mirror, she kept her hand towel held over her front. "Sorry about… all this."

"Why're you sorry?" The amusement in his voice eased the tension in her shoulders. "Sorry for gettin' coffee spilled on you? Sorry for havin' skin on your back?"

"Sorry for having burnable skin on my back," she corrected him, and he laughed.

"Yeah, alright, good point. If you weren't so damn flammable we wouldn't have this issue," he teased, but he pursed his lips. "In all seriousness, this one's on me. Wasn't watching where I was goin'; I was the one that ran right into you, not the other way around."

"Yeah, but I was in the way," Y/N pushed back, and Thomas raised a skeptical eyebrow, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"You've gotta stop apologizing for things, sweetheart. Especially things that I think we both know weren't your fault." How frankly he spoke made her sigh, and in that moment, it felt as if she was back in the entrance of her apartment, clinging to him as he tried to keep himself from pulling her closer. She swallowed her pang of guilt. “Lemme know if this hurts, yeah?”

“Okay.” Her voice was small.

Neither of them spoke as he dabbed ointment onto her wound, and his gentle touch had a warmth filling her skin that had nothing to do with the burn. He stood within inches behind her. The air in his bathroom was tense; both of them were aware of every movement the other made, every brush of their skin against one another, and it took every ounce of her willpower to keep her eyes down, to keep from staring at him in the mirror. She glanced up to see him knitting his brow, concern in his gaze. 

He placed the ointment back onto his sink, instead unraveling the gauze he held in his other hand.

"Pass me the medical tape?" The sound of his voice made her look up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. It took her a moment to process his words, but when she did, she broke his gaze immediately, clearing her throat and nodding as she reached for it and handed it back to him.

Her skin tingled as he laid the gauze softly over her wound, doing his best to give her skin room to breathe. She shivered as he taped it down by the sides. "Alright."

"You're done?"

He nodded and although his touch was tentative as he pressed the tape down to her back, it was firm. "Yeah, that should hold. Looks good."

"Okay," she said quietly, giving him a small smile. "Thank you."

When he finished, she expected him to take a step back, to let himself out of the bathroom so she could get dressed, and so she turned to him, anticipating that he'd move out of the way and she could retrieve her clothes from the bathroom floor. However, it was at the same time that she turned that he leaned forward to put the gauze back on the edge of the sink behind the ointment. They moved in synchrony, but it wasn't the synchrony either expected.

They were both far, far too afraid to move, then.

Thomas's hand was on the side of the sink, now to her right as she faced him, and with him leaning into her, between his arm beside her and the rest of his body in front of her, Y/N didn't have much of anywhere to go. Thomas, however, could've moved. He should've moved, too, and he knew that well. But when she turned to him, he found his face mere inches from hers. His nose brushed against her cheek, and with her having used his shower, with her wearing his spare clothes, he could smell the traces of his woody cologne mixing with a sugared scent he couldn't describe as anything other than her. She swallowed hard.

This felt familiar to both of them, by then. The proximity between them was all but second nature with how much time they spent together, with all the late hours in his office or her apartment. But this atmosphere was charged.

Every interaction between them had been measured and meticulous for months — while they had both been pushing boundaries, neither dared to cross them. But this? Neither of them had meant for this to happen. Neither had meant to make it so easy for them to simply fall into each other, but something about it seemed so natural, almost fateful.

Thomas was exercising every last drop of his willpower as he looked down at Y/N's wide eyes, her wet hair, her (his) pajama pants that were far too long for her. He tucked one of her damp locks behind her ear.

"We can't do this." Y/N's words were cautionary as Thomas's eyes wandered to her lips, but there was no feeling behind them. She didn't want him to stop.

"I know." His thumb traced her jaw, and he made no move to step away. He did know that what he was doing was wrong, but with how caught up he was in everything that was her, he was having trouble remembering why. "So stop me before I do something stupid."

She couldn't take a breath. Her voice was trembling.

"I don't think I want to."

He was hesitant to lean in toward her, but when he shifted forward, she met him halfway with every bit as much trepidation, and this kiss was nothing like the night they met. His touch was careful. His lips were slow, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He held her as if his gentle touch would negate all the implications of their actions, all the damage this might cause.

Because this didn't feel like the illicit affair that Y/N knew it to be. This was Thomas, her friend, her coworker, her fleeting one-night stand, and she held him against her in an embrace like that of a lover, her arms looped around his neck as the side of her nose brushed against his. This was easy. This was natural.

But this was her professor.

"Stop." She pulled away from him, a hand on his chest as she struggled to catch her breath, and Thomas's gaze didn't read as dejection or hurt, but instead it came with an air of concern. The silence that followed her single word was excruciating.

"Y/N?" His voice was hoarse, but it was heavy with guilt. She didn't meet his eyes.

"I… I'm sorry, Thomas. I really…" She trailed off as he took a wary step back; she let out a breath of relief when he was no longer boxing her in against the counter, his hips no longer pinning hers back. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

She left the bathroom in a rush, grabbing her shirt from the floor and pulling it back over her head without a second thought. When she took off, he didn’t try to stop her.

[fayesrossua]

PORCO GALLIARD: HOMEWORK HELP

Minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT

Prompt: MODERN AU. Porco X F!READER. It’s Friday, your roommate is out of town for the weekend and right as you’re about to relax, your college flings texts you. Porco hasn’t done the homework yet and needs to copy off you. You won’t let him get it without trying.

Warning: NSFW, 18+ CONTENT. Use of terms: bitch, slut.

Tags/keywords: college relationship, mention of past encounters, FEMALE ORAL SEX MAINLY. handjob, fingering, finding the clit. Porco being a cocky bitch until he’s face to face with a woman who wants to get fucked for real. Making out. Mild degrading. Cum tasting.

Notes: I formatted the texting part on my laptop so I know it’s kind of fucked up on the phone so apologies in advance

Word count: 3.1K

ENJOY BABES! 🥰

Your roommate was going to be gone for the weekend. Thank god, you think to yourself. You opened the door, mentally cheering to yourself to see her bed was made, her stuff was put away, and you would have an entire 48 hours of peace and quiet.

You slump your bag against the wall, and flop down on your bed. You close your eyes and let your mind wander. I miss Porco. It had been about two weeks since you last saw him. You two met in the library, in the hopes of studying but ended up shooting the shit for 3 hours instead. You recall the 45 minute segment of him showing you his camera roll, and your heated makeout session in the empty quiet zone of the library. The rings building around his eyes as midnight approached and tiredness blinded you two, making you incoherent and giggly.

You sigh deeply, stretching on your bed and enjoying the aching feeling of your lower back. You roll onto your front, and kick off your shoes, letting them fall on the floor. I should text him. Why not? You had one more midterm to study for and that wasn’t until Wednesday. As soon as you picked up your phone, a notification popped up on your screen.

Porco G

Can you send the psych homework ? I have plans tn

The seductive, hot image of Porco in your head dissipated as you read his message. You click your tongue, making a ‘tsk’ sound. Trying to think of something witty to respond with.

Sounds like a you problem dude

Not your best but it’ll suffice

Porco G

You’ve never had a problem giving me the homework before lmao

You rolled off your bed, deciding to leave him hanging for a few minutes. It was a lab, and your results couldn’t be copied. You didn’t want to get flagged for plagiarism. You went to use the washroom and wash your hands, coming back to your phone lighting up over and over again.

Porco G

I didn’t have time to make it into the lab

That fucking prof has it out for me, he didn’t include me in the email of the lab details this week

Are you really leaving me on delivered right now?

BITCH OPEN UP

You laugh at his outburst. You can picture him right now, computer tab open, looking at his blank lab report. You think of a response, watching as he goes to type, a small bubble appearing, and then quickly disappearing. An idea bubbles to the surface to your mind, and you go to type.

If you want it so bad, then come get it.

You hesitate for a second, and send. If he wants to cheat so bad, he’ll have to earn it. You’ve had a hard week, working so hard to maintain your grades, keep on top of your club activities and a part-time job — you’re not going to let some guy use that to his advantage without cost. Fearful of his response, you set your phone down, pacing around your room.

Bzz. You breath, and brace yourself as you look at his response.

Porco G

What am I supposed to fuck you for it?

I’m busy, come get my homework and take a picture of it if you’re so desperate

Porco G

K i get it

You turn off your phone, shaking the situation off. I mean I wouldn’t complain, you think. A eruption of butterflies bloom in your lower stomach and your mind replays the library. His craning head, aching to kiss you deeper. The way he groped at your waist, pulling you closer against a shelf of books, feeling just the imprint of his dick against your inner thigh.

It took all your strength to not let curiosity win. Instead you changed into something more comfortable, prepping yourself for a little bit of studying before unwinding completely. You chose silky pyjama shorts and an oversized hoodie. You grab your laptop out of your bag and start editing one of your essays in bed. Minutes pass and the words begin to blur on your screen, your eyes growing heavy and mind sinking into your pillow. You want to fall asleep. Letting your eyes shut, you feel warmth in your body stir, sleep blanketing you.

All too soon there’s a furious knock at your door. You jolt awake, and stare at the door, hearing Porco’s voice on the other side. You go to open the door, smoothing down your hair.

“Yes?” You say, feigning ignorance to what you just discussed over text. Porco shuffles himself into your room, closing the door behind himself. You sit back on your bed, criss-crossing your legs together.

“Did you die? Why weren’t you responding to me?” He asked, a hand on his hip and his other hand waving around his phone.

“I was doing homework.” You say simply. Porco raised his eyebrows at you, looking at you doubtfully. “What? I just got back-“

“Do you have the psych homework?” He cut you off, looking at you very intensely, but before your eyes you saw the cogs in his mind spin, and his face softened. “I’m really depending on you here.”

“I would give it to you but I still need to finish it.” You reply.

His fiery annoyance returns, he lifts his hands up, stuttering and feigning confusion “uhhh, uhhh- then why did you tell me to come here?” He says in a mocking tone. Porco steps forward until he’s almost towering over you. You look up to him, meeting his steely gaze with a meek expression. Porco was always short tempered but whatever anger or annoyance he had toward you was usually run short.

“If you wanted it, I said you could come and get it. I didn’t say I was finished it.” You say. He exhales an annoyed scoff, being silent for a few seconds. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking down in contemplation. Then he reaches down to grab the side of your face. His fingers are cold.

“If I ate you out would you give me the homework?” He asked, tipping your head to look at him. Your lips turn into a smile, and you start laughing.

“Is Professor Zoe’s psych lab really why you’re offering to eat me out?” You say. Porco’s expression was filled with both anger, infatuation and passion. He bit his lip before bending down to whisper in your ear.

“Take it or leave it, Princess. I’m only asking once.” He whispers, planting a small kiss on the lobe of your ear. Your breath hitches slightly, and you nod slightly, turning to face him.

“I accept. Hopefully I didn’t ruin your plans for tonight.” You say, watching as his eyes watched your lips.

“I’m used to that from you.” He said. You hum in response, pulling him to sit next to you. Porco lays his hand on your shoulder, and lays you down. He propped himself slightly on his elbow, using his knee to separate your legs, allowing him to swing one of his legs in between. Arousal builds and your lips can’t meet his fast enough.

Porco kisses you with such intense hunger, grunting slightly as his warm lips slid with yours, biting your lip and holding it in his teeth for a brief second. He was a sloppy kisser, and you loved it. It turned you on so much to feel his tongue in your mouth, to feel his horniness build as you swirl your warm, wet tongue against his. Porco likes to move around no matter what, so while kissing you, his hands roam all along your body. He lingers at your thighs, gliding his cool fingers on the sides, then tracing your inner thigh, brushing against your outer V as he explores up your stomach. You moan breathily into his mouth in between kisses, grinding your hips against his and kissing him with as much fervour as he is. He circled his hips, pressing his growing cock into you. The pressure felt so good, and slowly all the stresses you had about life took a back seat. “I didn’t know you were so hellbent on getting that assignment done.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh yeah,” He said in between kisses, “I take school” he kissed you, “very seriously.” You laughed, straddling him with your legs and continuing to kiss him.

The two of you are all or nothing, and you’re only as aroused as the other person. So it’s always a competition to see who can turn on the other the most. The needier you are, the more turned on he is, and so you are both loud kissers, loud and passionate love makers.

Porco pulls away from your lips, sitting up and taking off his t-shirt. “Your shirt,” he grabs your hoodie by the shoulders and you raise your arms, letting him pull it off of you. Porco’s eyes perked up at your bare chest. Placing both of his hands at the base of your waist, he slid his hands up, cupping your breasts and giving each of your nipples a gentle suck. He kissed all around your chest, inching further down. Finally, he reached below your waist, and he took your shorts off. He began smirking, drawing a finger down the center of your soaking underwear. “You’re already wet? Were you thinking of me before I got here?”

Anything clever you had to say died on the tip of your tongue as he massaged your clothed pussy, and you squirmed at his touch. He pressed into you, slowly stroking the length of you. You close your eyes, choked moans coming out of your mouth as you feel Porco get a handle on you, seeing concentration build on your face. “You like that?” He says

“Hmm yeah,” you reply, reaching to pull of your underwear. He grabs your hand, stopping you.

“Don’t be so eager. I’m getting there.” Porco delayed taking off your underwear, instead just tracing the outline of your V and going up to leave a couple hickeys on your neck. To really get him annoyed, you reached down, and began touching yourself. He pulled away from your neck, forcefully grabbing your wrists. “Do I need to restrain you or something? You’re such a horny slut.” He says, and you just nod. The wetness pooling in your underwear is making you uncomfortable and you want nothing more than for him to take care of it. “Keep your hands to yourself.” He whispers in your ear, finally reaching down and twisting the sides of your panties in his fingers. He leans back, settling on his knees and slides your underwear down, revealing your already dripping pussy. Porco makes a noise in the back of his throat, and that made you look up at him, only to see him gaze down at you in wonder and awe. All the confidence he had previously seemed to be extinguished by the sight of you — legs spread open, your core soft and wet just for him, your lips glossy and swollen from his kisses, and your doey eyes looking back at him lovingly, and so full of lust. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but he would never let you know that. He wasn’t letting your pent up energy go to waste. He was going to do this and he was going to be fucking good.

Porco settled himself down, laying on his stomach and wrapped his hands around your thighs. He first placed a gentle kiss on your pubic area, letting the knuckle of his hand graze your centre. You squirm at his first touch, before closing your eyes. He keeps kissing you, reaching down to the top of your clitoral hood, and kissing down your lips. Slowly, his tongue pressed against your labia, making little licks along each ridge, tasting the tangyness of your fluids. He breathed in through his noise and he looked up at you — seeing your face scrunched up in concentration as he put his tongue to work. Porco felt his already hard cock twitch against your hard mattress and a wave of lust fell over him, and he wanted to keep going.

“Feels good, Porco,” you breath out, you kept your hands latched to your chest, holding your tits and running your fingers over your nipples. Porco grunted, his tongue flat against your pussy, flicking it against you. His warm, soft tongue was making you feel so good. He took his lips away for a moment, using his fingers to run through your soaking folds, reaching up and accidentally finding your clit. Your head jolted up, and you almost made a choking sound at the unexpected pleasure of what he just hit. “Do that again,” Porco rubbed over that spot again, gently, before bringing his mouth back down and sucking it. He listened to your whiny moans, revelling in his feat of finding the clitorus. He was so hard, and wanted to touch himself so bad. Porco could cum just like this. He kept sucking on your clit, bringing his hand up and fingering you gently. His thick, calloused fingers teased your viscous, slippery entrance and he slowly stuck two fingers in. “Porco — oh my god,”

Your pussy clamped down around his fingers and Porco slowly started making a C shape with his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of you. “You’re so tight around me, fuck-“ He moved down to continue licking you, “You like that? You like how I’m making you feel?”

“Yes — yes, please keep going-“ you whimper.

“I’m so fucking hard,” he says, before quickening the pace of his tongue against you.

You hiss at his rapid change in pace, “Then .. touch yourself-“ you try to say, he’s bringing you close and your thighs clamp down on his ears. Everything he says falls unheard as your brain becomes solely focused on how he’s making you feel. The hot, wetness that is seeping out of you is rendering your whole body weak. The little waves of pleasure each time his tongue lands on you, pressing into you sends shivers up your spine. Porco keeps tongue fucking you, while he slowly adds a third finger into you.

Porco shifts his hips against your bed, moaning at the pressure he dick felt, and craning his head further into you. He feels your feet move to on top of his back. Porco moans against you, the vibration and hot air only making you more aroused. “Cmon baby, come for me, come for me.” He says, pumping his fingers in and out of you with increasing speed. His tongue finds it way back to your clitorus and he begins sucking and licking it. Feeling your thighs clamp down on his again and your hips buck against his fingers, he moans, over and over again, egging you on to cum. “Cum baby, cum. Fuck, you’re such a good slut for me.”

“Por-co— I’m, I’m” Your eyes roll to the back of your head — and Porco’s voice, his low groans and grunts wash over you as a tingling sensation prickles down your spine, down to your core, and an earth shattering amount of pleasure and ecstasy stuns you, your hips convulse and you feel Porco’s fingers shove themselves deeper into you, fluid leaking all over him and all over your bed, “Oh my god-“ He’s continues sucking on your clit, letting you ride out every inch of the pleasure you’re feeling.

“Good girl, good girl. Keep coming for me.” He comes up to say. It feels like 20 seconds pass before the tsunami of pleasure passes, leaving you with shocked nerves and wetness everywhere. Your feet slide off Porco’s back and your legs collapse, splaying outward as Porco slowly works his fingers out of you. One at a time, he pumps into you, then pulls out one finger, then another, until he is hands free. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispers against you. “I can’t believe you came this much.” He pulls up his hand, his fingers pruney and covered in a stringy fluid that is all because of him. Him, and his irresponsibility. Porco plants one more kiss on your clit, which made you lurch away from overstimulation, and he sat up, his dick was creating a tent in his pants.

You gestured him to come near you, and he did. Laying down beside you, he swung his leg around yours and began kissing you. You could taste yourself on his lips and you were reaching down to unzip his fly, “Can I take care of that for you?” You asked in between kisses, a tiny flutter of excitement rolling in your stomach. Porco looked down at himself, and then looked at you, his face slack and relaxed. You loved seeing him like this, you knew he didn’t have the energy or the desire to be such a bitch.

“Please,” he said, almost pleafully. You nod, and unzip his pants. He quickly pulled his pants and underwear down, leaving you now both naked. You sat up, and pushed him to lay down. Your started stroking his swollen, pink dick, watching how it twitched in your hand and how precum was leaking down his shaft already. Porco hissed at your touch, “yeah, yeah, just like that.” He put his fingers in your mouth, and you began sucking them, savouring the taste of your cum and warm it still was. Porco took his fingers out of your mouth and grabbed the back of your head, bringing you in for a kiss. His breath was quickly becoming stifled and heavy as you pumped his dick in your fist faster and faster. You greedily swallowed each one of his breathes, loving how hot and vulnerable he was. Porco felt he was coming close, he held out as long as he could before it became too much and he broke away from your lips, “Oh god. I’m cumming,” He groaned loudly, his eyes closed as you continue jerking him off until he cums, a stream of fluid spurting from his tip, before dribbling all over your hand. His breathing slows, and you become more gentle with your strokes, kissing him on the mouth before stopping completely and putting your cum covered fingers in his mouth.

“Little payback.” You giggle, as he spits out your fingers, wiping his mouth in disgust.

“Gross, I don’t want to taste my own cum.” He said.

“You seemed to have fun doing it to me.” You whisper, rubbing the excess on your thigh.

Porco just sighs, a little laugh coming out as he pulls you down to lay next to him. You wrap your arms and legs around each other, and hold each other in silence for a few minutes. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to completely relax.

“That was really good.” He said.

“It was.” You say, a yawn coming on. “You did a really good job.”

Porco’s hand grazed up and down your back, “Thank you. I had no idea what I was doing to be honest. I watched a porno on the way here in prep.”

“Of course you did.”

“I had to be prepared”

You hold each other in silence before you got up to pee. “My psych homework is in the pink binder.” You say getting up.

[dionysus-complex]

It’s 6:03 am on a Tuesday and in the next ~48 hours I have to: take my spouse to work, walk to campus, teach two classes, prepare a presentation handout for a presentation I’m supposed to give Wednesday morning (the morning before Thanksgiving!!), drive to the Valley to get a Covid booster shot, drive back, pick up my spouse from work, immediately get on Zoom for a two hour seminar tonight for which I’ve read the secondary reading but none of the Greek, eat, sleep, give above-mentioned presentation, grade my students’ midterms, do laundry, pack a bag, eat, sleep, and then get to the airport by about 6:30 am on Thursday for our flight to go see my family in New Mexico

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .epilogue iii.

after hours

masterlist

Warnings: dub con sex (oral, intercourse)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is surprised.

Note: Fic daddy here. Please tell me to stop calling myself that. I’m here, writing this still and this part is 🔥🔥🔥 I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply!

...

Sunday morning. You woke up in a foreign bed with a foreign feeling of someone laying next to you. Steve's hand was on the blanket along your stomach. 

You barely remembered falling asleep. He was too tipsy to drive and didn't trust your own state on the subway. So you relented and stayed, only too eager to sleep. Now you wished you'd left as you peeked over at him.

He laid on his side, his arm stretched across you. He was peaceful. He looked older. Well, he acted younger than he was. You rubbed your forehead and slipped out from beneath the covers. 

You grabbed the white robe hanging from the closet door and wrapped it around yourself. You went to the floor length windows that overlooked the city and stared out at the early morning traffic. You yawned and lost yourself in the distant lights and muffled cacophony of the streets.

You sensed movement behind you. You didn't look back as you focused on the colours and people below. What were you doing? Why had you done it again? 

You just couldn't help yourself. He had this power over you. The ability to pull your guiltiest urges to the surface. To make you forget all qualms and surrender entirely.

"Coffee?" His voice was still thick with sleep. "There's a machine here."

"No, I think I'll get one on my way out. I gotta study. I've got my first midterm this week." You turned slowly to him as he neared. Naked.

"You got your bag. You can study here." He coaxed as he pulled you into his arms. "I have some running around to do so I won't bother you...until I get back."

"Thanks, but I can't." You ran your hand along his chest.

"Fine," He shrugged, "Will you at least leave me with a little something to distract me?"

Your brows knitted as you considered him. He was insatiable. "Again?" 

"It's a new day," His hand dipped down and squeezed your ass. "Let’s end the weekend on a high note."

You sighed and brought your arms up along his shoulders. "I suppose you've got a point."

-

Monday you had class until one and then the workshop at three. You expected it to last a couple hours and you’d be ready to settle down and study until you fell asleep. A full day to start a full week. 

Wednesday was your midterm and you spent every empty minute going over your notes, even at the expense of your other classes. Next week, you’d deal with those as you crammed for three exams in as many days.

Your morning classes were slow. The first lecturer was a small old lady who refused to use a mic so every student hunched over their desk to hear her. Your second was a younger man, a new hire all too eager to enrich the minds of those only a few years behind him. You diligently recorded your notes and ignored the buzzing of your bag. Steve was as relentless in text as he was in person.

In the hours between, you grabbed lunch and checked your messages. Kylie wanted a study night as she crammed for the exam she’d forgotten about and Steve wanted what he wanted. You told both you’d see what happened. Neither was happy. The Rogers’ were rapacious.

You were early to the workshop as you were early to everything. The door was open and you peeked inside to find only Professor Barnes inside. He was fiddling with the projector remote and you shyly stepped inside. Since your night of beer with the two older men and you little conversation with Steve, your nerves had grown more frantic when thinking of him. 

“Um, hey,” You alerted him to your presence as you entered. “Looks like I’m early.”

“Or just in time,” He flipped the projector on and tossed aside the remote. “You wanna help set up?”

“Um, sure.” You set your bag down along the front table and crossed to him. “What can I do.”

“Just have some packets that need to be distributed. We have about twenty people. You can space ‘em out.” He pulled out a stack and dropped it on the table along the front. “Oh, and another favour…”

“Yeah,” You looked up at him as you pulled the pile over to you.

“Don’t mention our little beer night to anyone.” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“Oh, of course,” You agreed with a nervous chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks,” He smiled and turned back to dig around in his bag.

You went along the tables and doled out the packets. You glanced over at the professor now and then and wondered. Had Steve been wrong? He surely didn’t want to fuck you. Steve just liked to flatter you. He was good at that. Liked to tease you over your stupid little crush. You shook your head as you came to the end of the stack and kept the last for yourself.

You sat beside your bag and tapped your fingers on your desk. You picked at the corner of the front page and Bucky cleared his throat. Professor Barnes, you corrected yourself as you looked up. He neared the other side of your table.

“You have class after this?” He asked.

“Nope, only studying for my demise,” You answered.

“Hmm,” He nodded. “Would you be open to discussing your last paper then? Only fifteen minutes or so but I thought you’d rather that than stay behind on Friday.”

“My paper?” Your voice quavered without your consent.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad,” He assured you. “Don’t worry so much. So, does that work for you?”

“Sure, yeah,” You shrugged. “I haven’t got anything else to keep me.”

“Great,” He smiled and backed away. 

He glanced up as voices echoed down the hall and grew nearer. Other students began to trickle in and you pulled out your phone. You sent the same message to Steve and Kylie. ‘Appointment tonight. Dunno when done. Sorry.’

-

The workshop went relatively quick. Barnes reviewed the schedule and the basics of journalism and publishing. The ten-week program would include visits to magazines and editors all over the city and culminate in the chance to have an article published by one. It was exciting and you wondered what kind of strings the professor had to pull to set it all up.

When he dismissed the class, chairs scraped and voices filled the silence quickly. You packed up and checked your phone. Kylie had sent a sad face and Steve was much less affected; ‘no problem ;)’. As you slipped your phone away, Barnes looked up from his bag.

“Hey, you didn’t forget already, did you?” He kidded.

“Of course not,” You grabbed your jacket and bag. “Just in here?”

“Nah, there’s a class coming soon, we’ll have to head to my office but it’s just a few floors up.” He hooked his bag over his shoulder and waited at the end of your table. “Elevator’s under service right now though. You’ll get a decent work out in.”

You giggled and followed him out of the room. You hated how dumb you sounded when he was around. How you must have seemed like some little girl. You weren’t, not anymore. The summer had made you a woman and you were tired of being treated otherwise.

When you reached his office, you were out of breath. You needed to start walking as much as you read. He unlocked the door and ushered you inside with a wave of his arm. You entered first and were surprised when he closed the door behind him. Most professors made a point of leaving their offices open.

“I don’t wanna keep you all night,” He put his bag on his desk and threw the flap open. “We’ll just go over a few things.”

He sifted through the papers within and pulled out a stapled bunch. You neared the chair opposite his desk and set down your bag and jacket. he was beside you before you could sit. 

“I’ve underlined all the errors, as few as they were. Comments in the margin.” He handed you your paper. “Again, minimal, but helpful. We learn something new every day.”

“Uh, yeah,” You took it and thumbed through it. “Thanks.”

“You make all the corrections and it’s perfect.” He praised. “Ready for submission.”

“Submission?” You turned and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a contest in Media Scope Journal. I think you’ve got a good chance of winning and I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity.” He explained. “A second year, published in a scholarly journal is a hell of a thing to have on your CV.”

“You--you really think I could get in?” You marveled up at him. “I--” You looked down and let the title page fall flat. “Thanks. I’ll make the changes and get it back to you.”

“Great,” He patted your arm but his hand lingered. “You’re a smart girl. You could go very far.”

You looked at his hand and then up at him. His blue eyes gleamed and his silver-laced beard defined the natural angles of his jaw. You smiled back at him and your cheeks burned. He squeezed your arm and slowly his fingers brushed along your sleeve. 

Without a second thought, you stood on your toes and pecked his lips. The tickle of his beard and the smoothness of his lips broke you from your trance at once. You backed away and slapped your hand over your mouth as the paper threatened to slip from your grasp. He blinked but was calm as ever.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You pressed your palm to your hot cheek. “I didn’t--I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have--” You turned and grabbed your bag and shoved the paper inside. “I should just go work on this.”

“Wait,” He followed closely, his hand planted on the back of the chair to block you as you turned to flee. “You don’t have to. It’s...okay.”

“It’s really not,” You cringed. “That was so--so--”

“Right.” He finished for you. “Don’t you feel it? This thing between us.”

You stared back at him stunned. Did you knock your head and pass out? What was going on?

“It’s wrong,” You insisted. “You’re my professor.”

“So,” He countered. “It shouldn’t matter. I mean, I’ve never...with a student. Never felt like this but…”

“Professor--”

“Bucky,” He corrected breathily, his hand on your shoulder again. “Call me Bucky.”

“I...I...I…” You stuttered. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” His hand came up to cradle your face. “You’re young. You have the whole world ahead of you. What’s one little lapse.”

You searched his face. His finely lined eyes, his cheekbones still perfectly chiseled, his soft lips just beneath his thick beard. He was a handsome man, despite his age. The time only seemed to have complemented his looks. He leaned in and all your reticence slipped away. As his lips met yours, the tension snapped and you were swept up in the rush. You dropped your bag and jacket to the floor.

He turned you and pushed you against the desk so that you were caught between him and the wood. He was strong but gentle, his hand tickled your neck as he kissed you deeply. He was fervent, determined, as if he has been thinking of this as long as you had.

His hands traveled along your arms and gripped your hips. They slipped around and he lifted you onto the edge of the desk as he slouched to keep his lips on yours. He pulled at the hem of your knit sweater as he pushed between your knees.

You raised your arms as he parted to pull the sweater over your head. Your wore the same grey bra beneath and his eyes flared along the top of your breasts. He cupped one and bent to bury his face in your chest. 

His beard tickled and you giggled. His teeth surprised you as he nibbled the flesh and you exclaimed. He was rougher than Steve, his touch as decisive but without the same tenderness. Bucky didn't think of you as a girl, you realized, liked Steve did. He treated you like a woman.

His fingers unhooked the button of your fly and pushed the zipper down. He slipped below your panties and you spread your legs wider. You welcomed him as he played with your clit, his lips inch back up you neck and to your mouth.

He rubbed your bud as your breath caught and you pulled away to gasp. He kissed your neck and teased your skin with his teeth as he continued to toy with you. You grinded against his hand and his fingers slid back to your entrance. 

He pushed two fingers inside and you moaned in surprised delight. You never expected him to be like this. Straight to the point. He pressed his palm to your clit and curled his fingers. His hand moved steadily and he raised his head to watch your face contort in pleasure.

You pouted and rasped as your nerves started to buzz. His other hand grasped the back of your head as his blue eyes bore into yours. Don't look away. You were ready to burst as you clasped his shoulder and your other hand squeezed his bicep.

"Come on," He bent and whispered in your ear. "Let it go."

The orgasm tore through you like a storm and left your wits scattered. He eased you down from your peak and slowly removed his hand. He held up his glossy finger and licked them. The sight inflamed you.

"Get down." He ran his hand along your thigh. "Turn around."

You stood shakily and obeyed. When your back was to him, he took your hands and placed them flat to the desk. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back so you were slightly bent over. 

He tugged your jeans and panties past your ass and the cool air tickled your pussy. He grabbed your ass and squeezed. Then slapped it so hard you squealed. He gave a dark chuckle and drew his hands away. You heard his belt, then his zipper. Your lashes fluttered and you peeked over your shoulder. 

He spanked you again. “I didn’t say you could look.”

You bit your lip and faced the wall. A small window behind his chair looked out onto campus below. You had a sudden sense of deja vu. He stepped closer and his cocked poked your ass. He purred as he pressed himself to your back and his hand fiddled around between you. He guided himself to your entrance and pushed inside. 

He was thick and stretched your as he got deeper and deeper. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk and he reached around to cover them with his own. He bottomed out and nibbled your ear with a growl. 

“Fuck.” He swore and squeezed your hand as his other floated up to your chest. He pushed your bra up and tweaked your nipple. He kneaded your tit and gave a long slow thrust. “You want more? Ask.”

Your tongue slipped out between your lips and you groaned. You pushed back into him and wiggled your ass.

“Ask,” He pinched your nipple again.

“More, please?”

“Please?” He repeated and nuzzled your neck.

“Please, Professor Barnes.”

He snarled and slammed into you. The buttons of his shirt rubbed against you and caught on your bra. You were on tip toes as he crashed into you again and again. You whined as the reverberations rippled through you. Your thighs and back tingled with the mounting pleasure. Steve was firm but never this harsh. Never this savage.

Your hips hit the edge of the desk each time he rocked his hips. Your hands slid across the wood and messed the papers and pens atop his desk. He pounded into you until you were bent over it entirely. His hands went to your shoulders and he pinned you down.

He never wavered. His grunts and groans filled you with pure heat. You gripped the far edge of the desk and panted into the wood. You exclaimed as you came again. This time it was even more intense. Your feet were off the floor as he rutted against you.

He grabbed your hips and fucked you harder. His thrusts grew erratic as his breathing got louder. He pulled out of you all once and growled. You felt warm ribbons spill along your left thigh as he came. His fingers spread across your ass as his other hand stroked him through his climax.

When he was done, he tapped your ass and backed away. You trembled as you pushed yourself up and looked between your legs. His cum was all over your panties. You turned to him as he tucked his cock away. You would’ve been embarrassed if the haze of lust hadn’t blinded you.

“Just take ‘em off,” He said as he smirked at your dirtied panties. “Or keep ‘em on...that’d be kinda hot.”

You glanced up at him in shock. The eloquent professor, the disciplined scholar, was as lewd as any fratboy.  You shoved your pants down and swiftly untangled your panties. You pulled your jeans back up and buttoned your fly. You frowned at the wet fabric. You folded them carefully so that the mess was hidden.

“I...should go.” You took your bag and buried your panties at the bottom. You grabbed your sweater from the floor and stood. “Study.”

“Sure,” He neared and his hand traced the curve of your waist. “I need those changes by Thursday. Can you do that, baby?”

You blanched at the nickname. It sent a thrill through you and yet it sent you into a spin. You had fucked your professor. In his fucking office. And he just happened to be buddy buddy with your best friend’s dad. Who you had also fucked.

“Of course,” You smiled and he brought both his hands up to cradle your face. 

“Good girl.” He kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushed inside and he didn’t stop until you were breathless. “Go. Study.”  He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll see you around.”

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Watches Anime (Nov 15)

BOI, I HAVE A MIDTERM ON TUESDAY AND TEST ON WEDNESDAY. SCREW THAT. I’M GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE ANIME I’VE BEEN WATCHING IN BETWEEN STUDY SESSIONS! Yeah, the studying is like 2% while the anime and games are like 98%... I’m working on that, okay? Anyway, I’m going to cover mostly seasonal stuff with some other stuff.

Let’s go over the seasonal stuff first. Summer had so few anime coming out whereas Autumn/Fall came in like, “OPEN THE FLOODGATES! LET’S GO!!!” I haven’t even gotten around to all the anime airing this season that I want to like Yuukoku no Moriarty, Majo no Tabitabi, and Adachi to Shimamura. I missed some last season too like Deca-Dance which I just didn’t want to commit to if it was only for the good animation.

Taisou Samurai (DROPPED) 

I dropped it after two episodes. MAPPA has two major series this season, but they clearly gave more time and attention to the one that was actually going to make money here (which I’ll talk about later). This one seems like a passion project without the passion in it anymore. It’s like opening a bag of chips and finding out they went stale long before you even reached into the bag.

Taisou Samurai, at its core, has a premise that I found really promising. I happen to like watching gymnastics sometimes, and the idea of an athlete who doesn’t want to retire is interesting. They went wrong with the execution. I don’t know what they were trying to pull here, but with unlikeable characters and a terrible run at it, it’s like they weren’t playing with a full deck of cards here.

Also, if you don’t know what a gyaru is, one of the supporting characters will look like a racist caricature. Also, this bird has no other point than to try to make up for this show’s lack of usable humour by using Kappei Yamaguchi’s range and going, “Please, save this show. I beg you.” 

I didn’t even bother giving this show three episodes to drag me in because I just couldn’t see myself wasting another 20 minutes here. Maybe I’ll have a change of heart, but for now, I should be having better things to do.

Munou na Nana (WOULDN’T RECOMMEND)

I know everyone has made this joke already, but this is really just My Hero Academia x Among Us. I feel like if there was some more... budget put into this anime, they could’ve made it a lot better. The manga had a lot more detail, so a lot of the gruesome scenes with zombies or killings, etc. were muted and toned down beyond belief. Not to mention, I guess watching it after I read the manga just made me feel stupid. This is such a junkie show that pulls tricks that everyone knows is coming. Nonetheless, I can’t find some big reason to say “do not watch this” because it’s still a very mediocre show. It has its good points, but its presentation devalues it, the voice acting is meh (especially since Yuuichi Nakamura is playing THREE overpowered main cast characters this season), and the jig is up after the first episode, so the twists are just to make you sympathize more with the imposter. I haven’t seen a show like this for a while though, so I guess you can watch it if you want something refreshing like that. I don’t think you’re supposed to like this cast of characters, so I won’t say anything against not liking this cast. 

Kamisama ni Natta Hi (CONDITIONALLY RECOMMEND)

Jun Maeda... the man who manages to incorporate baseball into every anime he does... seriously, every anime I’ve watched by him has it from Angel Beats to Charlotte to that unfinished Little Busters I just left on hold. Anyway, Kamisama is no exception. Jun Maeda has a reputation for building touching stories that start off strong then really lose their footing once he realizes that he’s not going to get 24 episodes and needs to squeeze all of those 16 episodes of story left into 4 episodes or so. It also doesn’t help that sometimes he goes off on useless storylines that pay no use to the story. 

Hina is really funny sometimes (but can be annoying). Narukami is funny. Really, everyone has some valid point about them that makes the show better compared to the previous entries. 

Seriously, some little kid comes up to you and goes, “The world is ending, I am God, and I’m going to stick by you.” Meanwhile, you’re just a simp that’s trying to get your childhood friend to fall for you.

Honestly, I’m still having a blast watching this. As much as Maeda’s writing can really suffer from tonal shifts (mostly in the end), I still wanted to watch this anime simply because I always like his storytelling in the beginning, and the laughs it brings can sometimes still muddle out the bitter taste that’s left in your mouth when the series finishes. I can already feel this train going down a slide and off a cliff. I already paid for my ticket though, so I’m obligated to stay on this shootshow until the end.

Seriously, I do not like where some of these relationships are heading. 

Maoujou de Oyasumi (CONDITIONALLY RECOMMEND)

This anime is relatable. It can get stale fast for a lot of people, but every time I think I’m going to get sick of it, it pulls one of the same gags that makes me go, “This. This is why I’m sticking with this.” I’m not sure how much more there is to say. It’s just an abducted princess who couldn’t care less that she’s a hostage and instead, takes this newfound time to take some good ZZZs. What a life.

Oh yeah, this princess is also willing to commit murder, mutilation, theft, and assault to get the sleep she wants. 

Tonikaku Kawaii (CONDITIONALLY RECOMMEND)

I’m not dropping this show... even if it makes no sense. The premise is astoundingly stupid, but it pulled a Zombieland Saga on me. It sounded so stupid, but once I gave it one episode, I found myself being entertained and almost rooting for the characters and their relationships. 

Imagine this: You are about to get into the high school of your dreams when you see the girl of your dreams cross your path. You want to ask her out so you jump over the barricade and get hit by a truck. You’re on the brink of death when you realize you can’t die there without confessing your love. You chase her down with blood coming out of your head and confess. She says that she’ll only go out with you if you marry her. You then... somehow survive, drop out of school, then get a job to search for her. I kid you not. This is the setup. It’s as stupid as it sounds, and the anime knows this. It doesn’t try to fool you into thinking that this series is supposed to be anything but some highway fast-track way to convince you into watching a married couple. I think what irked me the most is that the character designs didn’t change from when they were in middle school to when they were adults. It wasn’t the being hit by a truck and not being sent to another world, it wasn’t this girl who stopped the truck without ruining her hair, it wasn’t anything else but their character designs staying the same. 

Anyway, this anime is cute as long as you can jump some hurdles. It’s basically puppy-love marriage with anime stupidity through and through. I don’t know what about this series people, including myself, find charming. 

Jujutsu Kaisen (RECOMMENDED - BUT DON’T COMPARE TO DEMON SLAYER TOO MUCH!)

It’s Shonen Jump. “Will it be the next Kimetsu no Yaiba? The next big Shonen Jump series? One of the next big three? Five?” No, I don’t think so. I’m not enjoying this nearly as much as I did binging KNY. The cast isn’t nearly as likeable, but I’m still having a good time. It’s not all that fair to make that comparison anyway. The cast for Jujutsu Kaisen is passable. I like some of the main cast, but I feel like they lack the same kind of depth with its main heroine. I know she gets more stuff done in the future chapters, but her backstory so far is, “I had a friend once... No, she’s not dead. She just left our small town.”

The fight scenes are actually so much fun to watch. MAPPA gave this series a lot more time and budget than say that first anime I mentioned. It’s fluid, the camerawork is amazing, the choreography is on-point. 

The voice acting for this anime is spectacular among the main cast... when character dialogue allows it.

I feel a bit of imbalance, but Yuuji does offer a good protagonist template. Junya Enoki makes his lines so funny and gives this nonchalant approach that is the polar opposite of his performance in Tonikawa. This is definitely his season.

Junichi Suwabe voicing the main demon thing is amazing too. It fits so well, and he sounds so cool and evil. It’s great.

Gojou is also one badass mentor played by Yuuichi Nakamura. Overpowered, part of the main cast, etc. Insert your reverse Kakashi joke here. Just give him more Sharingan genjutsu, I dare you. 

Yuuma Uchida is back playing another tragic character that’s serious and uptight. I can’t say much more about him.

The opening and ending are both worth listening to even if you don’t want to watch the anime. Lost in Paradise by ALI has been on repeat for me.

Besides that, I’m going to go over some other anime that I’ve been watching.

Hunter x Hunter (AS IF THIS HASN’T BEEN RECOMMENDED ENOUGH)

Slowly. Slowly but surely. 11/148.

I know this is going to be amazing... I just want to be in the right mood to full savour it. I don’t want to be consumed by stress and not pay attention. The reason why I like a lot of those seasonal anime is because I don’t pay the same kind of attention. 

If you told me these characters’ ages, I probably would’ve believed everyone... except Leorio. The guy looks like a middle-aged money-hungry gangster.

What I would give to have the energy and serotonin of a Shonen Jump protagonist. 

Haikyuu (YEAH, IT’S GOOD)

I’m watching this one with my mom and sister as they go “OMG OMG OMG” as we watch while I’m sitting there like -_-

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good show, but sports anime are made like shounen battle anime (because they are in a way) with different stakes. I’ve felt more “nervous” about some of the Haikyuu matches than I did with some of the Hunter Exam. Worst case scenario in Haikyuu, you lose the match. Worst case scenario in Hunter x Hunter? You die. 

I knew what I was going to get into when I was watching Haikyuu, and it’s given me what I remembered (since I did watch 10 episodes of it a few years ago) and expected.

SKET Dance (HIGHLY RECOMMEND)

Unfollow me. Unfollow me right now. This is what I’m going to be talking about for the next month. I can feel it. I’ve had this show for like 3 days and watched around 33 episodes along with some of these other titles. I have a problem. I know that, but I don’t feel like fixing it. This show is just too good.

I get why people call this a poor man’s Gintama, but it’s not quite that. I can get the similarities, but it’s like eating an empanada and saying that it’s just like that dumpling you tasted last week. It looks alike on the surface... if you’re not that great at... telling the difference between things... but once you get to the meat of it (PUN HAHA), you realize that they are completely different, and you were a fool for thinking otherwise. 

That’s our main heroine! Go go go!

Dude, episode 25 hit me out of nowhere, AND I READ THE SPOILERS! I won’t say any more than that.

The cast is one of the best that I’ve seen in a while. Their chemistry is basically the entire show. Without one of the main three, you wouldn’t have the show anymore. It handles its female characters better than some of its fellow competitors at the time, and it may have what some may call a “token fat character”, but the character never makes fun of her for being fat. They make fun of her for saying “Yabasu” every single sentence. It hurts that the manga ended with some loose ends, and this anime isn’t getting a season 2.

But at its weird and mushy core, this show is about three people with heavy and complex pasts who simply want to help people work out their issues in their own... unique ways. 

I don’t want to say much else, but I wish more people would watch/read it and create/post most content for it even if it’s a bit old because it deserves it. I’m almost a decade late, and this anime still holds up.

I gave Mairimashita Iruma-kun its own post.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Ahhhhh I love your Drabble games!! Okay situation: college au sentence: look at me are you sure you’re alright. Yeah I’m in uni struggling so I’d love a college au to make me feel better😂

Ahhhh thank you friend!! 

OOF i feel the college struggle lmao here you go fam, hope you enjoy!!

Situation: 21. College AU

Sentence: 3. “Look me in the eye; are you sure you’re alright?”

-

10:02 PM.

The numbers stared right back up at her.

Taunting, menacing.  

Vaguely threatening.

It was official; she had less than two hours to get this stupid, dumb paper that she was supposed to be working on all week but instead spent a majority of her time with other assignments turned in. MJ wasn’t normally one for procrastination; she liked to think of herself as a relatively organized person. See, midterms were next week, and her professors thought it would be nice to make all the big projects and papers due the week before, to help alleviate some of that good old collegiate stress. 

But, nice as the thought was, it doesn’t really help when literally all of her professors decide to do that. 

Which left her with two exams to study for, two papers, and one group project. All happening within the same three days.

And now, she has two hours.

Two hours to bullshit her way through one of those papers, through ten pages all about the absolutely riveting life (note: sarcasm) of Christopher Marlowe. 

And it really shouldn’t have been that hard. Writing papers had always been something that came incredibly easy to her; she honestly could probably do one in her sleep. 

But right now, right at that moment, her eyes burning from staring at the computer screen for hours on end, her hands cramping from all of the furious typing, it’s a little more difficult. 

“MJ.”

Peter’s voice startles her out of her zombie-like trance, the clacking on her keyboard stopping abruptly. Her head jerks in his direction, eyes wide. “Hmm?”

“Hey.” He looks at her for a moment, brows pinching together as he gives her a brief once over. “You good?”

She scoffs, moving to take a sip of her tea. “Yeah, I’m good. What makes you think I’m not?”

“There’s nothing in there,” he says simply, cautiously, gesturing to the mug in her hand. “You finished it thirty minutes ago.”

Oh.

Her lips quirk into a dissatisfied frown. 

“MJ,” He says again, grabbing her attention. “Look me in the eye; are you sure you’re alright?”

No matter what, Peter never fails to make her heart do some funny things, especially when he’s looking at the way he is right now. 

And it’s that concerned, worried puppy-esque look that compels her to tell the truth. 

“Honestly? No,” she half-laughs. “I have a test in brit lit on Wednesday, and one for stats that I still need to study for. I have this stupid group project for public speaking, and no one in my group seems to know what the fuck they’re doing. And Zeke from Lambda Theta Pi can’t ever meet because he’s got ‘brotherhood’ events every night this week and chapter on Sunday–apparently academics aren’t an excuse?–and doesn’t wanna get fined for missing them.” She barely takes a second to breathe, only rambling faster. “And–and–and I have two papers. One of them? No idea when it’s due. I’ve asked for a course calendar three times, in class. Over email. Dr. Vincent hasn’t even posted any kind of description of the assignment. Just mentioned that we need to be working on it. So no idea what I’m doing there. And finally, I have this paper, the one for Dr. Partenheimer, due at midnight, so please, Peter, I love you, but I gotta get this done, and I really need to focus.”

Peter’s remained silent throughout her rant, nodding every once in a while when he deemed appropriate. 

At his lack of response, she goes back to her computer screen, letting out a tense breath as she starts typing again. 

Suddenly, Peter’s face scrunches. “Wait, you mean the paper for Partenheimer… the one due Tuesday?”

“Uh, yeah. Today. So…”

A beat passes.

“MJ?”

She almost rolls her eyes, but fights the urge. “What?”

“…Today’s Monday.”

[strangerchoices]

Leave

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Turning your attention to your professor you say,

“I’m sorry, can we pick this up another time? Maybe next Monday?”

You couldn’t tell exactly but it seemed like he was disappointed. You felt a bit bad but if you weren’t going to focus on studying then you might as well go hang out with Steve. Grabbing your things, you start to walk out of Dr. Alexei’s office.

“Goodbye Professor. See you on Wednesday!”

“Ah yes, goodbye.” He replied

You walked down the halls of your school with Steve doing a little happy dance in the process.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a goofy smile

“It’s my happy dance.”

“I know that. You’ve done that same happy dance since 3rd grade. What are you doing it for?” He jokingly questions

“Well I’ve been doing really well in class lately and my professor said that he knows I’m going to be able to answer the questions on the midterm!” 

“That’s awesome! How about we go celebrate?” Steve suggests

You and Steve arrive at the car. Stopping to look at him you ask,

“And what do you have in mind?”

“Cheap Pete’s Pizza Parlor. It’s been our place since we were allowed to start going out without our parents.”

Getting in the car you place your stuff in the back seat. You watch as Steve slides across the hood as he always does. Ever since he learned to drive that had been his favorite move. Actually, ever since he was tall enough to do it, it was his favorite move. You remembered how he used to say ‘Cool Steve coming through’ as he’d slide across the hood of his dad’s car in his garage. He had gotten pretty good at it with all the practice over the years but it still made you smile remembering the times where he’d fall off or have to slide himself across because he didn’t have the momentum. Once he gets in the car you turn to him.

“I don’t know about Cheap Pete’s Steve. You want to drown yourself in soda again?” You tease

“How dare you bring that up! It was one time! I had just gotten a tooth pulled and the laughing gas made me think I was drowning when I was just drinking it.” He complains trying to hide a smile

Pushing him you playfully say,

“C’mon let’s go already.” 

With that Steve pulls out of the parking lot. Driving down the road the top is up but the windows are down. Sticking your head out the window you let the wind blow through your hair. Every now and then Steve takes a glance over at you. He watches as the sun shines on your head, how your hair blows in the wind, and the smile on your faces as you two drive along. He can’t watch for too long because he’d be dead if he crashed the car but he can’t help but look over ever so often. You being happy was his favorite sight to see. Pulling into the parking lot of the pizza parlor Steve parks the car in your special spot. The one with the pothole that no one wants. With the car finally stopped you start to open your dorr but Steve tells you,

“Oh no you don’t, if we’re celebrating you then you’re gonna be treated like a queen. Close that door so I can open it.”

Rolling your eyes, you close the door to the car. Steve saunters from his side to your door and opens it for you with a bow.

“This way your majesty.” He jokes

Always the comedian. Before you step out though you see a massive puddle in the pothole. You decide to be a comic as well and exclaim,

“Oh my! I could never get out the car in this condition! The puddle right there is too deep! My entire shoe would be permanently damaged!”

“I have an idea.”

Before you could ask what it was Steve grabs you from out of the seat and throws you over his shoulder. Closing the door with his foot he carries you from the parking lot in the back towards the front of the store. The whole way you laugh and lightly hit his back telling him,

“Put me down!”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

He opens the door with one hand, still using the other to keep you perched upon his shoulder and walks to the cashier. Since you facing the other way, you couldn’t even begin to imagine the look that the cashier had on his face. All he could see was steve’s face and your backside. You tell Steve,

“Put me down!”

But he ignores you and instead orders his food.

“Uh yeah. I’ll take uh- hmm. I have some garlic knots and a slice of Million Cheese Sicilian.”

“Will that be all?” the cashier asks in a monotone voice

Steve turns around so now you, still on his shoulder could order. You give the cashier a sympathetic look that he doesn’t seem to care about.

“Can I get a coke and a slice of Cheese-plosion crust pizza.”

The cashier punches in all the orders before stating,

“Your total will be $6.71″

Finally, Steve puts you down and you make your way over to the booth in the corner. He pays the total and waits for the food to be ready before heading over to you. As he slides you your food and drink to you, you can’t help but say,

“That was so embarrassing! My butt was in his face!”

Steve rolls his eyes and just laughs at you.

“This is not funny Steve Harrington.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he states taking a bite from his pizza

Any tiny bit of anger you may have melted away. Steve, your Steve, just called you cute. Sure, he had before, but for some reason this time it felt more sincere. Like he actually meant it this time. You felt butterflies form in your stomach. This was a normal occurrence though. You got butterflies ever since you first started liking Steve as more than just your best friend. You remember the first time it happened. It was the end of 7th grade and Steve was hosting an end of the year pool party. Tommy H. was trying to kiss you but you didn’t want him to, so Steve pushed him in the pool with all of his clothes on. He came out soaking wet and was so embarrassed he called his mom crying and went home. After that moment you got butterflies around the boy who was supposed to just be your best friend. You started to eat your pizza slice when you noticed Steve staring off at the wall behind you.

“Steve?”

He snapped out of his trance

“Yeah?” he asked

“You okay?”

“I was just thinking.”

Going back to eating your pizza he slipped into a trance again. He must’ve been thinking again, but God knows about what. Unbeknownst to you though, it was you he was thinking about. Steve thought you were cute. He thought about how he said you were cute. He started to panic thinking that it might’ve been the wrong thing to say you were cute. You didn’t reply anything when he said it so maybe it was okay. But what if it wasn’t? What if him saying you’re cute is what pushes you away. He couldn’t deal with that. You’ve been his best friend forever. He wouldn’t be who he is without you. No, it’s fine. You’re still here. You didn’t just up and leave. It’s okay. Hopefully.

“Hey Steve, when do you have to be back at work?” You asked him

Steve looks down at his watch before his eyes shoot wide.

“Oh shit, I was supposed to be back 3 minutes ago!”

Grabbing your hand he pulls you out of Cheap Pete’s and drags you behind him to the car. You both scramble to get in and he peels out of the parking lot. Speeding down the street he zooms into a parallel parking spot near the video shop. Pulling some coins out of his pocket, he throws them your way and quickly says,

“Put those in the meter for me.”

He then bolts into the shop while you place the coins in the meter. Robin is at the desk when he gets inside and comments,

“You’re late Harrington. I hope you have a good excuse.”

As she finishes her statement, you walk through the door. She looks between you and Steve.

“I see you have a decent excuse. I’ll let you off with a warning this time.” She says winking at him “Also I already punched you back in so don’t worry about it.”

Steve breathes a sigh of relief and starts to catch his breath. Before he heads off to start working you mention to him,

“You’re cute when you're flustered.”

You then head off towards the boxes of new arrivals that need to be shelved. Steve, on the other hand, was frozen in place. His heart skipped and beat and his stomach started to do flips. You called him cute. You had before but this time it felt different. It sounded like you meant it. He couldn’t move, all he could do was watch you walk away.

“Hey, lover boy. Snap out of it.” Robin said still at the front desk

Steve shot her a look and went towards his task. But he couldn’t get over it. You called him cute.

*****

Minutes turned into hours and it was almost time for closing. You and Steve were almost finished with restocking the last-minute returns when you heard the bell of the shop ring. You couldn’t see who came in but you had an idea of who it was when Robin called out,

“Hey! Mom, Dad, your child is here.”

Steve put the box down and made his way to the front of the store with you trailing behind.

“Dustin!” Steve called out excitedly

The two of them did their secret nerdy handshake before Dustin turned his attention to you and said,

“Hi Y/N!”

You went over to him and ruffled his hair a bit before replying,

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to rent a movie.”

“Well we’re closing soon, so go grab it,” Robin told him

Dustin runs off towards the section where comedy and fantasy mix before quickly coming back. In his hand, he returned with Ghostbusters. Robin helped him to check out while Steve turned the open sign to closed. Once Dustin got his movie he turned to you and Steve and asked,

“Can we watch it together? I already told my mom I’d be at a friends house.”

You look at him. His eyes wide with excitement. How could you say no to that face?

“Of course!” you answer

*****

The three of you had finally gotten to Steve’s house after finishing up at the video store. While you were in the kitchen making popcorn, Steve was helping Dustin set up the VHS tape.

“So are you two together yet?” Dustin asks 

“No,” Steve replies fiddling with the VHS player

“But you have a huge crush on her,” Dustin says a smidge too loud

“Keep your voice down Henderson.” Steve scolds looking to see that you aren’t there 

“Sorry, It’s just I have a girlfriend and you don’t. So I’m trying to help you out.” 

“Well you’re not helping,” Steve replies

Just then you walk in with the popcorn and ask,

“He’s not helping with what?”

Both of them turn to you. They’re like deer in the headlights until Dustin pipes up saying,

“The VHS player. I wasn’t helping to set it up.”

“But it’s all good now! We’re ready to go!” Steve chimes in

Dustin takes a seat on the floor while you and Steve sit on the love seat couch. You notice as Steve places his arm around your shoulders. You don’t know if it was intentional or not but either way, the act made you smile. As time goes on you one by one start to fall asleep. Dustin first, then Steve and lastly you. The movie is close to its end but you can’t keep your eyes open. Getting comfy you start to lean on Steve. You can hear the rhythmic sound of his heart as your eyes start to close and the last thing you remember is thinking that this feels right.

[astralaffairs]

do you think we could get a v2v 04 snippet 🥰🥰 im so intrigued in this fic and definitely excited to see where it goes! - 🎈

ill give u the lil opening scene for now ;) a girl’s gotta have SOME secrets (aka the draft is under major construction rn lol)

----

MUCH TO HER dismay, Y/N woke up with a splitting headache and an unimpaired memory of everything that'd happened the night prior.

She still finished grading the essays for Thomas, but she dropped them off at the faculty mailboxes that Sunday afternoon - she couldn't face him, at that point. On Monday, she gravitated back to her seat at the rear of his lecture hall. She did the same on Wednesday.

Her responses to his emails and his texts were short and to-the-point. He needed her to grade the recent papers from his International Security class? Sure, but she was busy during his office hours; any chance he could leave them in his mailbox so she could pick them up the next morning? Thanks, that'd be great. He wanted her to work with him on laying out the rubric for an essay? No problem. She'd set up a shared Google Doc right away.

It was a week after Y/N had last spoken to Thomas that Dolley was over his apartment that weekend with James. She was smug when she came home to Y/N.

"Thomas is looking for you," she said mildly, and Y/N glanced up from her laptop on the couch with a skeptical gaze.

"And what, exactly, makes you say that?"

"He asked me to tell you."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously?"

"Mhm." Dolley's smile was self-pleased. "He was home when I was over, and he said he needed to talk to you."

"Thanks for letting me know." Y/N's voice was tense as she looked back to the paper she was writing, and Dolley took a seat beside her with a glass of water.

"Can I ask why that might be?"

"No clue."

"So are you going to talk to him?"

"I have class with him Monday. I'll see him then."

"Y/N." She gave her a deadpanned look, and Y/N looked tired when she met her eyes. "Did something happen? You haven't mentioned his name even once all this week."

"No, everything's fine," Y/N assured her, but Dolley looked less than convinced.

"Then why do you look so unhappy right now, dear?"

"What? I don't," she replied defensively, and Dolley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"How daft do you think I am?" she asked, folding her arms after she put her glass on their coffee table. "You can deny wanting to sleep with him all you'd like, but I know how much you like Thomas. It isn't exactly subtle. So what happened with you two?"

Y/N sighed, rubbing the side of her nose. "It's not really that big of a deal. I'm probably blowing it out of proportion, but he drove me home from the party at their apartment last weekend, and..."

"And?"

"And I came onto him." She was wincing at even the memory. "I was drunk, though, and he knew that, but it was so stupid. I'm still kind of mortified, so I've been dodging his attempts to talk to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to face him."

Dolley took a deep breath, eyeing Y/N where she sat with her head in her hands, her laptop closed on her lap. "Well, he clearly wants you to talk to him, so I'm sure he didn't think it was quite so bad."

"But I'm gonna be an anxious wreck the next time I have to talk to him," she groaned.

"You're his TA and his student," Dolley pointed out. "You can't avoid him forever."

"I'm not trying to," Y/N said. "But… y'know. I can still put it off for a little while. Midterms are only a week away, and then it's spring break. If I can make it that far, I don't have to talk to him until fourth quarter."

"You're being ridiculous."

“I’m being practical,” she replied, “besides, it’s only two weeks till break. The only time I’m gonna need to talk to him is when I turn in my midterm.”

Dolley snorted. “I’d wish you luck, but this one’s a lost cause, dear.”

[lynnearlington]

Supercorp: Kara has to report on the industry of college football and drags Lena along cause she’s never been to something like this

I took some liberties with this one. Shocking to no one, I’m sure. 

Lena doesn’t care much for football - or for sport in general. She’d much prefer to spend her Saturdays getting work done in the library or in the engineering labs in the hopes that she can spend her Sunday not worrying about it.

Even as classes begin and the student body descends into a fixation over the school football team, Lena steadfastly stays out of the entire ordeal.

It works for her first two years of college. She manages to attend none of the games and falls easily into a routine of Saturday work and Sunday relaxing while her classmates are recovering from hangovers.

In the spring of her sophomore year she meets Kara Danvers through a friend of a friend, and they become loose acquaintances. She sees Kara around campus, they grab lunch a few times. Over the summer, Kara randomly texts her and they strike up a conversation that begins to sprawl outward in scope and they become something like real friends.

Kara changes her life, in the end. In thousands of good ways - none of them at all predictable to her in the fall of her junior year.

One of the ways that Kara’s intent on changing Lena’s life becomes apparent nearly as soon as they first see each other that fall, when Kara mentions the first game of the season on the way to lunch, diving into a discussion on their quarterback situation as though Lena knows anything about “QBR” or whoever Elias and Nate are.

“You’re a football fan?” Lena asks as they stroll across campus towards the student center. It’s still warm enough outside that it doesn’t really feel like fall yet, but campus is bustling with new students - freshmen scurrying around looking lost and upper classmen greeting friends they haven’t seen in months. Kara looks like she’s had a good summer, tall, blonde, and still a little bit tan. Lena had always thought she was cute, but knowing her has made a difference in her attraction.

“Duh,” Kara says, kicking a rock under her feet idly before turning quizzical eyes to Lena. “Are you not?”

It’s clear there’s a right and wrong answer there - Lena’s adept enough at reading situations to tell that much. But she’s not going to lie. Not to the honest blue eyes looking her way. “It’s never really been my thing,” she admits. “I’ve always been too busy to go to the games.”

And maybe the last bit is a slight lie, but incredulity is starting to spread over Kara’s features and Lena just reacts to it.

“Lena, it’s football!” Kara exclaims, clearly appalled.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Lena jokes which is the wrong thing to say because Kara’s eyes seem to get even wider.

“You’re coming to a game with me this season,” Kara states as if it’s been decided. The thought of going anywhere with Kara tinges her chest with warmth but the thought of piling into the massive stadium on campus with a bunch of drunk college students screaming all sorts of insane chants and not being able to sit down at all sounds awful.

Lena makes a bit of a scoffing noise, but swallows it at the determined look in Kara’s eyes. They’ve reached the student center and Kara moves forward to open the door for her.

“I have a very busy semester,” Lena tells her softly, warming at the way Kara jumps ahead of her as they walk through the first set of doors to open the second.

“We’ll see,” is all Kara says and it’s ominous sounding enough that Lena has to laugh.

–

The Fighting Bulldogs open up against the Gotham University Nighthawks. Lena finds the naming conventions of sports teams to be nothing short of ridiculous, but she can’t deny it’s a bit cute when Kara shows her a series of selfies she’d taken at the pep rally of the Bulldogs mascot - a fat English Bulldog named Handsome Dan.

“Are you excited for the game this Saturday?” Kara asks, abandoning her phone to pick her fork up and start to stab at the plate of pasta in front of her. Lena tries to ignore how Kara’s got her legs kicked out, feet resting just short of Lena’s ankles.

Lena blinks. It’s definitely Monday and Lena’s barely thought about her classes on Tuesday much less a football game five days from now. “I suppose,” she answers neutrally, turning the page over in the student newspaper she has sitting next to her tray.

“Are you reading my article?” Kara asks, lifting a curious eye toward the paper as she twirls her fork.

“I don’t think I need to read your op-ed about which campus coffee shop serves the best latte when I’ve already heard you tell me about it in detail,” Lena says. Kara makes a humming noise, poking again at her plate. Lena gets through three lines of an article about a malfunctioning fire alarm in the theatre building that someone is certain is a ghost when Kara sighs loudly.

“I hate the Nighthawks,” Kara intones, twisting noodles around her fork.

The tone is surprising. She’s unused to Kara saying anything negative about anyone, but the vitriol is palpable in Kara’s voice as she continues, “They’re seriously the worst and their stupid mascot should be banned from our stadium. It’s this awful tree. I don’t know why it’s tree, even. They’re the Nighthawks.”

Lena makes a sound of agreement, a bit bemused at the frown on her friend’s face and having nothing else to offer other than support. “What time is the game?”

Kara makes a face like Lena should very well know what time the game is, but answers regardless. “Two,” she says. “Are you going? Will you come with me?”

“I have a lot of work I’d like to get done,” she says and Kara’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t seem keen on pushing Lena. She does, however, sigh heavily.

“Sundays are for homework, Lena, not Saturdays.”

“Says the girl that spent all last Sunday watching reruns of The Golden Girls,” Lena points out, laughing at the attractive flush that creeps into Kara’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her around a mouthful of pasta, her foot kicking softly against Lena’s shin under the table.

–

The leaves start to change and a fall chill rolls onto campus. It means classes start to ramp up on the slide into midterms and campus starts to settle into rhythm.

It also means something Lena hadn’t thought to prepare for - Kara Danvers in jeans and sweaters bringing her pumpkin spice lattes every other morning before their shared philosophy elective.

Lena’s crush is something she’s tried to fight as much as she can for the sake of their friendship, but it’s hard when Kara’s smiling at her on the sidewalk outside her dorm and there’s a warm color to her cheeks from the chill and her blonde hair is curling down around a rust colored sweater.

The latte is far more sugary than anything Lena’d normally drink, but Kara hands it over with a happy grin and she had look so delighted when she’d informed Lena PSLs are back! that Lena doesn’t say anything other than a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Big game tomorrow,” Kara says one Friday morning as they walk to class. Lena takes careful sips of her drink and hovers close to Kara’s warmth.

“Oh?” Lena asks, having absolutely zero idea what qualifies for a big game considering it’s what Kara says nearly every Friday before a game weekend with a serious gaze on her face.

Kara makes an affirmative sound, scrolls through something on her phone as they walk down the sidewalk. From what Lena can see, it’s a table of college football teams. Their school is highlighted at around seventh place. “Vandermeer,” she says, referring to a small school somewhere in the middle of the country. Lena couldn’t name their mascot with a gun to her head.

“Well…bully up?” Lena says tentatively, trying out the chant she’d been hearing around campus for the past two years.

Kara laughs, a happy little sound as she pockets her phone and slings an arm over Lena’s shoulders. “There’s hope for you yet.”

The rest of the conversation gets lost to Lena. Kara keeps their bodies tucked against each other and the heat of her seeps through Lena’s light autumn jacket. That’s all she can really focus on the entire rest of the way to class.

–

Six games into the season and the Fighting Bulldogs have yet to be defeated. Apparently it’s a big deal.

Kara gives her the breakdown over lunch one day after the rest of their small friends group has abandoned them for classes and Lena elects to wait while Kara finishes the rest of her massive tray of food.

“I saw one projection that had us finishing top five for sure if we can close out the season,” Kara says, looking wide eyed and infectiously excited at the prospect.

“That’s great,” Lena says, not entirely knowing what that really means other than something positive by context.

“It means playoffs,” Kara tells her and Lena just nods, laughs at the massive grin on Kara’s face. That thrumming urge to kiss her friend buzzes so acutely over her skin that Lena has to spread out the fingers of her hands to resist the impulse.

–

The excitement over the recent success of the teams seems to be campus wide, not just contained to the bubbly enthusiasm of her best friend. It’s almost something tangible everywhere Lena goes.

The majority of the student body can be seen sporting a football jersey in the middle of the week or breaking out into spontaneous chants as the game creeps closer.

Lena doesn’t attend, despite Kara’s efforts to cajole her into it. Per usual, she spends her Saturday in the basement of the engineering building working out the kinks in a project due the following Wednesday.

But, uncharacteristically, her mind starts to wander to what Kara’s doing, how the game is going. It itches at her enough that she finds a livefeed of the game on her laptop and puts it on mute as she works.

The game still means nothing to her - the scoring conventions seem a bit contrived and inconsistent and though she picks up some of it by context, she really has very little idea of what’s actually going on.

At least she knows enough that when the game clock ticks to zero and the score is 39-37 in favor of the Bulldogs, it’s a good thing. From the looks of it, the stadium goes crazy, the student section rushing onto the field and the players jumping up and down, throwing their helmets in the air.

It makes Lena smile a bit and she watches the revelry for a few minutes before clicking out of the stream. Before turning back to her project she sends Kara a quick text - good win!

The reply comes much later in the form of a phone call and Kara sounds out of breath and overjoyed when she answers. “What are you doing?”

“I’m working on a project,” Lena tells her.

“You saw the game?” Kara asks, the happy sound of her voice stretching a smile across Lena’s.

“I caught the end of it,” Lena admits and Kara lets out a whooping sound that has Lena laughing.

“We’re going to a party at Winn and James’s place,” Kara says. “You wanna come?”

Lena eyes the work in front of her, hesitant for a moment. “I’m not -”

“Come on, Lena,” Kara entreats. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Bully up! Bulldogs are undefeated!”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Lena replies dryly, but she’s already packing up her stuff and Kara’s laugh in her ear makes her chest feel fluttery.

–

The off campus house that Winn and James share is packed when Lena gets there, people spilling out onto the front porch and the loud booming sound of music emanating a block away as Lena walks there.

Tugging her jacket tighter over her shoulders, Lena sidesteps a couple stumbling down the long walk up to the house and carefully avoids a pile of empty beer cans. She pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and pulls up her thread with Kara to text a simple I’m here.

Not even a minute later, Kara’s throwing the front door open and scanning the front yard to find Lena, beaming when their eyes connect and all but skipping down the steps to wrap Lena into a tight hug.

Kara’s just a few inches taller than her, but considerably stronger and it does nothing to calm the dance of nerves in her stomach when Kara picks up her up a bit off the ground as she hugs her, her face colliding with Kara’s neck.

“We won, we won, we won, we won, we won,” Kara chants in her ear, bouncing Lena around into the hug until Lena has to hold onto the back of Kara’s jersey and laugh.

“Congratulations,” Lena says as Kara sets her back down.

There’s a soft detachment in Kara’s gaze that fairly easily conveys how behind Lena is in the drinking portion of the evening, but her smile is the kind of genuine that always makes Lena have to take a deep breath of air in reaction.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Kara says, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Lena’s and tug her towards the front door. “Let’s get drinks.”

Lena easily follows the tug, sees the virtue in finding a drink as quickly as possible if only to give her mouth something to do that isn’t kiss the life out of Kara Danvers.

–

The excitement of victory is palpable throughout the party. Nearly all of the party goers look as if they’ve come straight from the game - still wearing jerseys and face paint. Kara pulls them both deep into the house towards the kitchen where a smattering of their friends are congregated around a table there.

They all seem surprised but happy to see her as Kara goes about mixing a drink on the counter with the wide range of alcohol there. She thinks to pay attention to whatever Kara is doing - sometimes letting Kara mix the drinks can be dangerous - but she gets distracted by Winn who offers her an overly exuberant high five upon seeing her as well as a recap of the last few minutes of the game.

“It was unreal,” he’s gushing, face red and hair in a disarray. There’s blue and gold streaks of paint across his cheeks and what looks like glitter poking out of the neck of his blue jersey. “Boomer is the only man in the whole world who matters to me now.”

Kara comes back to her side, hands her a red plastic cup that Lena inspects a second before taking a hesitant sip. It’s as fruity as she expects it to be, but not completely offensive and just on the side of strong that’s tolerable.

“Boomer Suthfield, best kicker in the game,” Kara exclaims as she catches Winn’s conversation. Winn reacts to it with a low exclamation of agreement and the two of them bump fists. “We won on a last second field goal. Amazing.”

“That’s exciting,” Lena comments, unsure what to do with the all the unbridled energy she can feel in the room, but feeling herself get swept up in it nonetheless.

“Bully up! Beat Quakers!” Kara yells, wrapping an arm around Lena’s shoulders like she’s been apt to do these days. The whole room yells in appreciation, starting to chant BULLY UP with the distinctive syncopated clapping pattern. It’s absurd that a bunch of drunk people can do it with perfect rhythm and performance. Nearly cultish.

Lena lets out a careful breath, but doesn’t fight the pull of warmth from Kara’s side pressing against her own. Winn starts to go off on what Lena realizes from context is the Bulldogs’s next opponent, and she drowns the conversation out in place of leaning into Kara’s body and sipping at her drink.

“Lena, you’ve got to get to a game, I can’t believe you don’t go,” Winn says eventually, pulling Lena’s attention back more fully to what’s being said.

She shrugs, takes another pointed sip of her drink and flushes at Kara’s loud laugh next to her. “I’m usually pretty busy on Saturdays,” she answers.

“It’s just wrong,” Winn says, shaking his head at her, eyes solemn, but his lips in a teasing smile.

“I’ve tried,” Kara tells him, tugging Lena tighter into her side companionably. “Trust me.”

“Well if you can’t get her to go, she’s hopeless,” Winn says, putting his hands up in resignation.

Kara laughs again, looks down at Lena with a grin that has Lena clearing her throat out. The hat on her head is turned backwards, her cheeks red from alcohol and the warmth of the room. She looks gorgeous. “We’ll see.”

Though Lena rolls her eyes, her cheeks grow warmer and she has to hide her face in the rim of her cup lest Kara catch on.

–

The party seems to only get bigger after Lena gets there. More and more people arrive - from where Lena’s not sure - but the house stays packed late into the night. Random chants of BULLY UP break out every few minutes. There’s even a reenactment of the last play of the game staged in the front yard to the joy of not only their house but those of the surrounding neighbors.

Lena hovers close to Kara, and Kara stays close to her, but engages with the rest of their friends. She and Winn take on James and Lucy in a spectacular game of beer pong - the games close enough that Lena starts to feel a significant buzz by the time she and Winn come out on top.

After that they play a series of drinking games around the kitchen table. Mike pulls out a deck of cards for a round of Kings Cup and later Kara loses a game of Never Have I Ever in dramatic fashion.

It’s a good party. Energy is high off the earlier victory and Lena starts to feel it creeping into her own system, the infectious way Kara keeps leading their friends into a chorus of the fight song doing its part to make Lena laugh.

Eventually, sometime after James talks Mike into doing a keg stand but before Winn takes his shirt off, Lena finds her way out to the back porch of the house. It’s blissfully devoid of anyone else and a chill contrast to the heat of the kitchen. She presses her hands to the warmth of her cheeks and breathes out into the crisp fall air.

The sound of the door swinging open indicates Kara’s arrival, and her friend paces across the back deck to Lena’s side, sitting next to her on the steps there. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Hot in the kitchen,” Lena answers, just drunk enough to lean over against Kara’s shoulder and take a deep inhale of Kara’s presence.

“Mmm,” Kara agrees in a low hum, shifting closer to Lena’s body and looking out across the dark backyard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lena answers, feeling inexplicably sleepy all of a sudden, but unwilling to let go of this quiet moment with Kara. She sits up to avoid falling asleep and smiles at her friend.

Kara smiles back, her eyes holding Lena’s in a short still moment. “I’m really glad you came out tonight,” Kara says in a quiet tumble of words that pull against Lena’s chest in a way that starts to feel inevitable.

Lena blinks, licks out against dry lips and knows her usual resistance to this all consuming crush she has is vulnerable right now. “Me too,” she replies, her eyes unable to stop from straying to Kara’s mouth.

The moment feels like it stills, the muted sound of the party the only sound around them. Kara takes a deep breath and Lena wishes she had a drink in her hands if only to have something to do with them that wasn’t wrapping into the fabric of Kara’s jersey.

“Can I do something?” Kara asks quietly, her cheeks flushed - whether from alcohol or from the cool night air, Lena’s unsure. “It might be crazy.”

“Crazy?” It’s unclear what Kara’s talking about and Lena thinks that might have a lot to do with how they’ve shifted closer and she can’t stop her brain from spiraling down thoughts of what it might be like if she just gave into temptation and pressed her lips against Kara’s.

“Good crazy,” Kara says quickly and Lena laughs noiselessly.

“Well then by all means,” she says, but she barely gets the last word out before Kara pushes forward, their noses bumping softly on the way until suddenly they’re kissing and Lena feels her breath get sucked out of her chest.

It happens quickly, so fast that Lena’s brain barely registers it even though her lips respond, slant against Kara’s and her fingers come up to play at Kara’s chin, pulling her in closer.

And then it’s over.

The back door to the porch bursts open in a loud thud and Mike is stumbling across the deck in loud drunken footsteps until he’s all but falling into the yard and puking his guts up into the grass.

Winn comes jogging behind him, hunched over and patting his back as Mike continues to hurl.

Lena gags at the sight of it as they both jump up from where they’d been sitting and Kara moves down the steps towards the two boys.

“Go back inside,” Kara tells her over her shoulder, laughing a little at the disgusted face Lena’s making.

Lena doesn’t argue, is already turned that direction anyway. It isn’t until she’s back in the kitchen that she fully realizes what’s just occurred. Her lips feeling tingly and her throat dry and her chest expansive and oh god she should go.

Without so much as a goodbye to anyone, she makes her way through the house and out the front door, past a group of people tossing the Bulldogs’s mascot’s head in the air across the yard and back towards campus. 

–

Late Sunday morning, Lena gets a text from Kara. I’m outside your dorm.

And so she is. Standing at the bottom of the front steps in a navy v-neck sweater and light wash jeans, holding two cups of coffee that Lena knows instinctively are pumpkin spice lattes.

“Hi,” Lena greets, feeling shy and uncertain as she takes one of the cups from Kara. She’s dressed in the sweatpants she slept in and a long sweater against the chill morning. Her head feels a bit thick from the drinking the previous night but the look on Kara’s face is wiping her fatigue away.

“Hi,” Kara parrots, pocketing one of her hands and shifting on her feet in an adorably hesitant movement. Her hair is pulled back, but a few wisps have escaped at the sides and Lena wraps her hands around her coffee to avoid reaching out and tucking them back behind her ear.

Everything feels like it’s tilting precariously on the events of the night before, and Lena’s not sure which way they’re going to fall.

That is, until Kara looks away, her lips twisting in what looks like a smile trying to burst across her face. “So, I totally kissed you last night,” she says in a quick sequence of words that makes Lena laugh. “You totally did,” she agrees, the memory of it flushing across her skin.

“And then Mike puked.”

“Yes.

“And then you ran away.”

“It was gross,” Lena says defensively and Kara’s lips thin.

“The kiss?”

Lena steps forward in reaction. “The puking,” she says definitively and Kara’s lips creep into a smug looking smile.

“So the kiss was good?”

“Crazy,” Lena says, echoing Kara’s words from the night before.

“Good crazy though,” Kara says, her smile hiding behind the rim of her white coffee cup.

“Good crazy,” Lena agrees softly, feeling her chest is stretching out and up into her throat. “Why did you do it?”

Kara shrugs, eyes a bright blue against the overcast sky above them. “I’d been wanting to,” she answers quietly. “And I figured if Boomer could make a forty-eight yard field goal against the wind to win the game, I could probably kiss my best friend that I’d been crushing on for months.”

It beats warmly up Lena’s throat as she laughs, her cheeks flushing. “Bully up,” she replies between chuckles and Kara joins her in the sound before stepping forward and cutting it off with a swift kiss.

–

It doesn’t change much other than Kara seems to take their new relationship status as a free pass to talk even more about football. As if now that they’re dating Lena wants to hear about rushing yard averages and ranking systems.

She doesn’t.

But that doesn’t stop Kara who continues to try and get Lena to the games or game watch parties every Saturday and feels it necessarily to fill her in on all football related news over meals or late at night when they’re lazing about Lena’s little dorm room. The only good thing about it is that Kara looks cute when she talks about it all, her hands waving around and her eyes excited.

The Bulldogs go undefeated. Become the undisputed number one team in the nation. A fact that Kara’s been reminding Lena nearly every day since it was announced, as though Lena has no access to the news or doesn’t live on campus with thousands of other people who are also obsessed with the Bulldogs.

They head into a playoff system which puts them in a win-or-go-home game to make it into the National Championship.

“I got press passes to the game,” Kara tells her one night, as they’re sitting on Lena’s couch and Kara’s watching ESPN. “We’d be on the sideline.”

“How did you get press passes?” Lena asks, quirking a brow and pressing her foot into Kara’s thigh to get her to keep massaging it. Kara grabs her foot without looking away from Lena’s face, her eyes intent.

“I write for the school paper,” Kara reminds her and Lena shoots her a pointed look.

“You write an editorial column, not the sports section.”

Kara shrugs, feigns a look of innocence. “So?”

It makes Lena laugh. “I don’t want to know.”

“Just say you’ll come,” Kara entreats. “It’s the playoffs and you’d have one of the best seats in the house. Who knows when you’ll get that kind of opportunity again.”

It’s been months of Kara trying to convince her to come to a game and maybe it’s the way Kara’s lips have that just kissed look about them and her hair is a little tangled from Lena’s fingers, but there’s something about the moment and the way Kara’s thumb is running up the arch of Lena’s foot that makes her finally say, “Okay, fine.”

The way Kara’s eyes light up in excitement makes Lena sink into a feeling of contentment and crawl across the couch until they’re kissing again.

–

The play-in game is on the first Saturday back from winter break.

The atmosphere around game feels combustible.

It’s at a neutral site, but the stadium it’s held at is only a few hours away from their campus, so she and Kara take the drive down way too early under the guise of Kara needing to interview people - when it’s apparent that Kara just wants to soak in as much of the atmosphere as possible.

Kara buys her a blue jersey with the number 10 across the chest in large white letters because she insists Lena can’t show up to the game without proper attire. It’s big enough that it fits over a thick sweater and she steals one of Kara’s many winter hats with the school logo on the front. When Lena comes out of her dorm with it on, Kara gets out of the car to kiss her for five minutes against the car door.

It’s deep enough into fall that it’s practically the beginning of winter and the air is cold by the time the game kicks off, the stadium rocking.

With press badges slung around their neck, they make their way onto the field and take their place among the crowd of people watching the game from the small press area in the corner of the endzone.

The energy in the building is undeniably electric. Loud music is pumping through the speakers and the crowd is engaged in a series of chants between the home and away fans. Lena can see how easy it would be to get swept up into something like this.

It helps that Kara can’t contain her own excitement. She’s practically bouncing in a mix of nerves and enthusiasm. It doesn’t get better as the game goes on. Kara’s body moves with every play the team makes as if her phantom throws and kicks will somehow translate to the game and make the ball or player move the way she wants them to.

Lena stands beside her and takes it all in, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold air. Eventually, Kara seems to notice and wraps Lena up in her arms in an offer of body heat.

Lena’s grateful for the warmth, sinks into Kara’s hold and enjoys the way Kara now whispers her commentary into Lena’s ear. It certainly makes the game far more interesting than before and though Lena’s distracted by the way Kara’s body feels pressed up against her, she actually pays attention enough to feel invested in the result.

When the Bulldogs win with a last minute touchdown right in the endzone they’re standing next to, Lena screams in reaction, a burst of sound she can’t quell the moment she’s realized what’s happened. The crowd goes wild along with her and Kara’s arms tighten abruptly around her waist, lifting her quickly into the air with an exuberant whoop. The player who’s scored jogs right past them, waving up at the fans and doing an absurd dance as his teammates start to swarm him. 

Kara does actually end up doing some reporting, taking Lena into the press conference room and scribbling down notes. She holds Lena’s hand the whole way home and only plays the school fight song three times on the drive.

–

Winn and James host the watch party for the National Championship. Apparently Kara couldn’t quite con her editor into getting press passes for a trip to Texas.

She spends the whole week looking squirrely, taking every moment as some sort of omen for the game on Saturday. On Tuesday, Lena has to talk Kara off the ledge after the poor student union worker tells her they’ve run out of Froot Loops. On Friday, Lena comes over to Kara’s dorm and is treated to a full hour detailing her ideal gameplan, complete with plays she’s drawn up on one of her video games. Saturday morning, she’s woken up at six by someone sprinting down the hall of her dorm screaming BULLY UP and hitting every door along the way. Kara is then incapable of falling back asleep, and therefore Lena is awake too.

By the game comes around, Lena’s grateful if only to get Kara’s ridiculous train of superstitions to come to a halt.

The house is crowded with their friends - there’s a very strict invitation policy: Bulldog fans only. How Kara convinced them to allow Lena there, she’s not sure, but she imagines it has something to do with Kara’s continuing insistence that Lena’s good luck for the Bulldogs. We went undefeated after we became friends.

There are jello shots in the school colors, but only Mike and Lucy seem interested in them. Winn sits about two feet in front of the massive television and nurses the same beer for the entirety of the first quarter. James spends most of the game pacing back and forth behind the couch and murmuring commentary. Kara won’t even touch the massive array of food on the table in front of them - a telling thing if anything. Instead she sits on the couch next to Lena and leans forward, hands pressed to her face. Lena spends most of her time running her fingers up and down Kara’s back in what has to be a futile attempt to calm her.

The Bulldogs do okay, but not great for the first three quarters. The game stays close, the other team staying in one score territory. Right before the start of the fourth, the opposing team scores to tie it and Kara looks like she may fall to her knees and start crying. Her hands scrub so forcefully over her face that Lena grabs one of them to get her to stop.

But then Elias Newsome, the starting quarterback who had been chosen in week four (after great campuswide debate that Lena had heard too much about from her girlfriend), takes over. Watching it happen is like a bomb going off, the energy rippling through the whole team. One minute, the Bulldogs are struggling against a tough defense, the next, Kara is standing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs as their star running back sprints down the field for a 98 yard touchdown.

They score 21 unanswered points and Kara cries through the whole trophy presentation, her head in her hands.

–

Lena thinks maybe winning a National Championship might temper some of Kara’s fanaticism about football. Why she ever thought this, she’s not entirely sure, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

At the start of their senior year, Kara spends the majority of the preseason talking at length about Nate Groblan taking the reins of the team now that Elias has graduated and been drafted. It’s in the middle of such a one-sided conversation when she pauses for a second, her head in Lena’s lap. It’s chilly, the first signs of fall starting to appear around campus. PSLs have arrived even earlier this year and Kara’s happiness is of the sort that bleeds across Lena’s chest.

“I love you,” Kara says. It’s not the first time she’s said it, nor will it be the last. But it still warms Lena up, her fingers tracing through the blonde curls stretched across her legs.

“I love you, too,” Lena says.

“More than I love the Bulldogs,” Kara says, very seriously. It’s concerning to Lena that the statement really means a lot.

“I feel so lucky,” Lena says drily. Kara laughs, reaching up to tug at the sweatshirt Lena had liberated from Kara’s collection last winter. BULLY UP is proudly written across it.

“You’re my lucky charm, that’s for sure,” Kara says. Her face turns serious. “You know that you’re never allowed to miss a Bulldogs game for the rest of our lives, right?”

“For the rest of our lives, huh?” Lena says, poking at Kara’s side. But she doesn’t look embarrassed.

“For the rest of our lives. For the Bulldogs,” Kara says, half-sitting up. Lena meets her halfway, pressing their lips together.

“Well, bully up,” Lena murmurs. She ends up forced into a very loud stadium the next Saturday, her girlfriend urging her though complicated chants and shotgunning beers afterwards, when Nate throws five touchdowns in his debut. Mike throws up, Winn takes his shirt off. Kara holds her hand.

It’s not so bad.

FALL PROMPTS | KO-FI

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

some positives

having a bleh day so checking in with some good/random things because it’s been a hot second

GOING TO LONDON ON FRIDAY WOWOOWOWOWOWOOWOWOOOOOHOOOOOOOO

Realistically could just end the list there tbh

Got a 100 on my midterm paper/preformance (debate) for one of my classes so that’s #lit

my friday/monday class got cancelled last friday and tomorrow 

the sun is supposed to finally fricken come out this week (i swear it has been sunny like 4 days total this semester)

studying my ass. off. for a certification exam im taking on wednesday and there is a very real possibility i might not pass it (85% is pass yikes) but we out here grinding anyway!

was talking to jared about running yesterday and he was like “I mean I know I’ll run a half marathon someday” and I was like B*tch YEAH YOU WILL (and a marathon but he doesnt know that yet) (then he was like, so when you train for that does your weekly mileage exceed that? and I was like aw you do not understand any of these concepts rn but ily so much for it)

bought new comfy soft jeans yesterday and i have worn jeans -2 times lately so im glad i finally have a pair that dont make me feel like my skin is crawling!!!!

also bought a cute dress

also bought girl scout cookies for roomie and me (team samoa who’s with me)

also also bought two new flowery scented candles (perpetually have a candle burning)

have rekindled my friendship with my journal after 2 months of near silence

did I mention I’m going to london on friday to see my favorite person ever for the first time in two months after spending literally every single night together last semester? yeah I’m a little excited

OOOO and then in a month we go to st. john for my mom’s wedding (still such a weird phrase wtf)

and I’m graduating in 2 months L O L

okay that’s enough for now let’s get this new week friends 🐌

[bountyofbeads]

It’s not just the Russians anymore as Iranians and others turn up disinformation efforts ahead of 2020 vote

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2019/07/25/its-not-just-russians-anymore-iranians-others-turn-up-disinformation-efforts-ahead-vote/

It’s not just the Russians anymore as Iranians and others turn up disinformation efforts ahead of 2020 vote

(Of course it's not just the Russians!! Other countries see how successful the Russian government was in their disinformation campaign so why wouldn't other countries try it.)

By Craig Timberg and Tony Romm | Published July 25 at 5:29 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted July 26, 2019

A recent tweet from Alicia Hernan — whose Twitter account described her as a wife, mother and lover of peace — did not mince words about her feelings for President Trump: “That stupid moron doesn’t get that that by creating bad guys, spewing hate filled words and creating fear of ‘others’, his message is spreading to fanatics around the world. Or maybe he does.”

That March 16 tweet, directed to a Hawaii congressman, was not the work of an American voter venting her frustration. The account, “@AliciaHernan3,” was what disinformation researchers call a “sock puppet” — a type of fictitious online persona used by Russians when they were seeking to influence the 2016 presidential election.

But it was Iranians, not Russians, who created @AliciaHernan3, complete with a picture of a blonde woman with large, round-framed glasses and a turtleneck sweater. It was one of more than 7,000 phony accounts from Iran that Twitter has shut down this year alone.

And Iran is far from the only nation that has, within its borders, substantial capacity to wage Russian-style influence operations in the United States ahead of next year’s election. That means American voters are likely to be targeted in the coming campaign season by more foreign disinformation than ever before, say those studying such operations.

Former special counsel Robert S. Mueller III echoed the consensus of independent researchers in his congressional testimony Wednesday, saying of Russian online political interference: “It wasn’t a single attempt. They’re doing it as we sit here, and they expect to do it the next campaign.” He added that “many more countries” had developed similar capabilities, based in part on the Russian playbook. A new Senate Intelligence Committee report released Thursday found that Russia began targeting the U.S. election system in 2014 and concluded that the attacks had continued into 2017.

A short list of countries that host online influence operations with a history of interfering across borders includes Saudi Arabia, Israel, China, the United Arab Emirates and Venezuela, researchers say.

They say it’s often not clear exactly who runs these operations — whether it’s the governments themselves or other actors — but that they typically echo the talking points of the ruling powers and back their geopolitical goals through tweets, posts and online videos. Operations in all of these countries, meanwhile, have the means and potentially the motives to seek to influence a U.S. election shaping up as among the most hotly contested in decades.

The influence operations in these countries, however, do not all share Russia’s demonstrated preference for Trump and other Republicans. The Iranians, for example, typically oppose Trump in their disinformation messaging, criticizing his decision to pull the United States out of the 2015 nuclear deal with Iran and administration policy on other issues, including Israel and the civil wars in Yemen and Syria, research shows.

“Multiple foreign actors have demonstrated an ability and willingness to leverage these kinds of influence operations in pursuit of their geopolitical goals,” said Lee Foster, head of the intelligence team investigating information operations for FireEye, a cybersecurity firm based in California. “We risk the U.S. information space becoming a free-for-all for foreign interference if, as a society, we fail to get an effective grasp on this problem.”

Researchers for FireEye and other firms have reported suspected Iranian disinformation on most major social media platform — Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Google+ and others — and on stand-alone websites, as well. In May, FireEye also alleged that U.S. news sites may have been tricked into publishing letters to the editor penned by Iranian operatives.

The firm’s analysis spotted a number of instances where letters in newspapers in Virginia and Texas appeared to share similar characteristics to accounts on Twitter believed to be part of an Iran-based disinformation network. FireEye also catalogued fictitious Twitter personas used by Iranians that included a Harvard University student, a Michigan bodybuilder and an Iranian American woman from Seattle.

Some Iranian Twitter accounts, FireEye found, even sought to impersonate U.S. political candidates, including a California Republican who ultimately lost the general election for Congress. That account tweeted about the confirmation hearing for U.S. Supreme Court Justice Brett M. Kavanaugh and a British royal wedding before beginning to promote Iranian interests, including tweets condemning the Saudis’ killing of Washington Post contributing columnist Jamal Khashoggi.

Some Iranian disinformation accounts, some of which were affiliated with state-controlled news operations, date back several years, but they have grown steadily more sophisticated. Twitter, Facebook and Google all have identified and taken offline accounts from Iran over the past year for engaging in coordinated, deceptive behavior.

“As part of our public archive of information operations, we have disclosed thousands of accounts and millions of Tweets originating in Iran that we have proactively removed,” said Yoel Roth, Twitter’s head of site integrity. “Every year is an election year on Twitter, and we will be applying all of our global learnings to protect and enhance conversations around the 2020 election.”

The Iranian tactics differ somewhat from those of the Russians, who through the Internet Research Agency in St. Petersburg infiltrated the online conversations of a wide range of U.S. political groupings — immigration hard-liners, African Americans, veterans, evangelical Christians, environmentalists — with messages attuned to the way those communities already were speaking among themselves on major online platforms.

The Iranian operations detected so far tend to lack that complexity, with messaging typically on a single side of an issue in line with government policy goals — countering Israel, for example — as opposed to multiple ones.

But there are clear signs of shifting tactics in the accounts identified by Twitter, Facebook and other companies so far. What’s known, researchers say, may be only small parts of much larger operations that remain undetected.

“The Iranian operations were a wake-up call to remind us that the Russians were not the only ones doing information operations,” said Camille François, chief innovation officer for Graphika, a network analysis firm based in New York that studies online disinformation.

Graphika found that among one set of 1,666 Iranian accounts taken down by Twitter in June, about 1 in 4 tweets were in English. Trump was mentioned more than 1,400 times — almost always in critical ways — with this anti-Trump tweeting peaking in early 2017, in the months around when he took office.

Researchers say that both the U.S. government and social media companies have grown more aggressive in battling online disinformation since the 2016 presidential election.

Cooperation between the FBI and Silicon Valley has improved markedly. U.S. Cyber Command blocked Internet access to Russian disinformation teams during the congressional midterm vote in November 2018, scrambling operations. Some researchers express hope that this rising aggressiveness may thwart — or at least deter — some foreign-based influence operations from interfering in future U.S. elections.

All of the major social media companies also have established teams devoted to combating disinformation, typically by identifying and shutting down networks of fictitious foreign-based accounts on an increasingly large scale.

This shift has been dramatic since 2016, when the companies saw foreign threats mainly in terms of traditional cybersecurity — hacks and bugs — as opposed to influence operations conducted by foreign adversaries with substantial resources. The Russian disinformation campaign in 2016 spent more than $1 million a month, Mueller reported in an indictment last year against the Internet Research Agency.

As social media companies crack down, the tactics of disinformation teams rapidly shift to improve operational security and more effectively evade detection. FireEye, for example, was able to identify some apparently fake Iranian accounts last year because contact numbers for supposed American Twitter users had the +98 country code from Iran, a tactical mistake operatives are unlikely to make again.

But among independent researchers and some lawmakers, significant skepticism remains on whether enough has been done to prepare for the threat in 2020.

“In 2016, Russia used bots and fake accounts to launch an unprecedented social media campaign designed to influence the results of our presidential election,” said Sen. Mark R. Warner (Va.), the top Democrat on the Senate Intelligence Committee. “That playbook is out in the open now, and you can bet that unless the platform companies get their acts together, we’re going to see more and more foreign-based actors using it to wreak havoc in our democratic process.”

The nations hosting significant disinformation capabilities typically first saw them active in seeking to manipulate domestic audiences, shaping public perceptions in line with regime propaganda. The next step often was working regionally, by infiltrating online conversations in neighboring countries, as Russia did in Ukraine in 2014 as it annexed Crimea and fomented unrest elsewhere in the country.

Disinformation teams in Iran initially developed their tactics while manipulating domestic political conversation before gradually expanding operations to include more languages, more themes and foreign targets.

Human rights lawyer Simin Kargar, of Harvard’s Berkman Klein Center for Internet & Society, said Iran for years has harassed journalists, political dissidents and artists in its internal disinformation campaigns. She has watched as Iran increasingly deployed such tactics against foreign targets.

“I would be surprised if the Iranians weren’t trying to expand their operations for the coming election, especially with the rising tensions between Iran and the United States,” Kargar said. “They would be far more savvy by 2020.”

Disinformation teams in Saudi Arabia have worked both internally and to manipulate other Gulf states, including in the nation’s struggle with rival Qatar, said researcher Marc Owen Jones, an assistant professor of Middle East studies at Hamad bin Khalifa University in Doha, the capital of Qatar. He said tactics in Saudi Arabia typically involve both sock puppets and automated accounts, called “bots,” echoing official government propaganda, including things said or tweeted by Trump.

Jones recently detailed in a series of tweets an apparent information operation emanating from Saudi Arabia following a visit to the White House this month by Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani, the emir of Qatar. Jones found a single tweet, “The Prince of Qatar a supporter of terrorism, should not be in the White House but be at Guantanamo,” had been posted up to 800 times an hour over several days, from 2,582 unique accounts. The tweets mostly were directed at U.S.-based targets, including Trump, the CIA and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, and at several news organizations, including Fox News, Reuters and The Washington Post.

“There’s still this pro-Trump message coming from Saudi Twitter, and I don’t think that’s likely to change,” Jones said. “They view Trump’s reelection as key to their own survival.”

A spokesman for the Saudi Embassy in Washington, Fahad Nazer, said, “Saudi Arabia does not interfere in anyway in the domestic affairs of other countries. It considers this noninterference principle to be a pillar of the rules-based international order. Just as importantly, Saudi Arabia does not engage in the dissemination of “disinformation” of any sort. Any allegations to the contrary are baseless.”

This trajectory from nationally focused to internationally focused disinformation campaigns raises longer-term worries about what other nations might have disinformation teams sharpening their chops on domestic audiences with an eye toward eventual use against foreign targets, including in the United States. In addition to those with known foreign disinformation capabilities, there are numerous nations — Turkey, Egypt, the Philippines, Qatar, Mexico and others — that now use such tactics mainly to influence domestic politics but could turn their attention to foreign targets.

In a related trend, online mercenaries have begun offering information operations as a commercial service. Facebook shut down 265 accounts from an Israeli company, Archimedes Group, in May for seeking to manipulate elections through social media targeting voters in Latin America, Africa and Southeast Asia. The company said on its website that it would “use every tool and take every advantage available in order to change reality according to our client’s wishes.”