#okay so i’m probably transferring colleges HOWEVER i still need to get classes and room here incase i stay and im so fucking pissed bc it’s

[joanbaezed]

so stressed my body hurts ummmmmmmm

[a-dorin]

crush

pairing: college au! maul x female!reader

word count: 2.411k

warnings: smutttttt, teasing, cursing, mentions of death threats, endless teasing, some filthy talk, nsfw, pet names

a/n: hi so this is my first time writing over 1k in months. please be gentle with me, as i'm really proud of this & i can never get enough of college aus. feedback is very much appreciated. request was anon, but i hope you enjoy <3

prompt: "Hi yes if this managed to make it in time for request, can I please request a Maul x Fem reader smut,,, like anything I’m a desperate hoe ahdhdbsbsbzb"

“so,” there’s the crisp crinkle of a page turning, “why’d you choose university of coruscant?”

“the atmosphere.”

“come on,” he scoffs, “are you a tour guide now? what major are you anyways? isn’t it something really nerdy? something along the lines of biochemistry? a minor in genetics or some bullshit like that?”

“i think you’re thinking of some other girl you’ve fucked because that is nowhere along the lines of what i’m studying. you weren’t even in the right college. some partner you are.”

sitting right across from you, was the star recruit of the university of coruscant. a lacrosse player who transferred from mustafar central. he was the reason why the team was expected to qualify for nationals. why they were supposed to even make it to the championship.

over the summer, it was almost as if the entire campus was buzzing about it. after all, it wasn’t often that the university was able to snag such good athletes. well, it was a division one school so of course it was a given that everyone was pretty good in their respective sport.

however, the zabrak sitting right across from you was utterly exceptional.

in almost every way.

all everyone raved about was his looks. which, you had to admit, the zabrak was gorgeous. with rich crimson skin, complemented by inky tattoos, sharp cheekbones, a dashing smile, and eyes that were pools of pure honey, it was difficult to deny the fact that he was attractive.

however, it was not hard to accept the other truth, either. he was quite acquainted with a majority of the women on campus, matching with almost every single one on tinder. that was if you were a part of a sorority or part of a sports team, of course.

what made matters worse was his intelligence. so, when you were paired with him for a project in your astronomy class, you learned fairly quickly that the zabrak was quite the smartass. and not a nice one, either. he seemed to enjoy harassing and berating you with his jokes and punchlines during every encounter.

he was everything you despised in a man. cocky, stubborn, and careless.

so why were you so attracted to him? you had absolutely no idea.

there’s a beat of silence, and the only noise the zabrak emits is a quiet exhale. the sound of his breath as it whistled through his teeth. yet, it’s followed by a quiet huff.

“you wish you could fuck me. you’ve mentioned it before, to that nautolan friend of yours, hmm? kit, right? he’s on the lacrosse team. your name may have come up a few times.”

heat flourishes through your cheeks as you glance upwards, any last remnants of focus completely crumbling away. your breath hitches in your throat at the smug smirk plastered on his lips, incisors poking against his lower lip.

golden eyes scour you, almost analyzing the sheer and utter shock plaguing your features. satisfaction glints within the depths, and you blink, scrambling to formulate some sort of response.

leaning forward, the zabrak tilts his head, so close that the tip of his nose grazed yours. this time, the words are a low rumble, harsh and gravelly.

almost like a growl.

“you told your little friend kit that you wished that i would just take you right here, in the library, and fuck you senseless. i find that interesting though, because you’ve been feeding me this little premonition that you absolutely loathe every aspect of my existence. now, do you actually want that little wish of yours to come true, or are you going to keep putting up the act and we act like this never happened?”

shrinking in your seat, you could almost feel the eyes searing into the both of you. there’s arched brows and low murmurs, a few giggles ringing through the space. swallowing thickly, you pull the collar of your hoodie over the lower half of your face, in a vain attempt to conceal your obvious embarrassment.

of course your fellow peers were staring. in the corner of your eye, you witness a group of girls roll their eyes. from the decals on their laptops, along with the other memorabilia, you pick out they’re chi omega girls, a popular sorority on campus.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you hear them whispering amongst each other. there’s a few points, and you were dead sure the dusty rose twi’lek in the black nike hoodie wanted to end your life right there.

maker, were you so flustered.

and he had you right where he wanted you.

“m-maul,” you stutter, fidgeting in your seat, “pe-people are s-staring.”

“do i look like i give a fuck?”

“i’m pretty sure the chi omega girls over there are going to send me death threats once they find my instagram,” you grumble, burying your head in your hands, “it’s your fault they’re all looking, you know.”

“hey!” the taunting tone in his voice sent your eyes wide open, strands of curses flowing from your tongue as he called over to the group, “i know we may have matched on tinder, but i’m not yours. i’m not territory to lay a claim on. i’m my own zabrak, you know. i can talk to other girls.”

letting out an exasperated sigh, you bury your head into your arms, laying your head on the table.

getting any work done with him was a lost cause.

“you okay? you gonna make it?”

for a moment, you melt under the tenderness in his tone, the way the words just sounded so gentle. he lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up, the heat in your cheeks lingering as your eyes lock with his.

“we could get out of here, you know,” maul murmurs, “i live in an apartment with a few other guys on the lacrosse team. they’re all out, though. we could get some peace and quiet. and i could get you away from those chi clowns. i think they already found your twitter. i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.”

i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.

“um, sure. i don’t have anything else tonight. at least, i don’t think. i cleared my schedule so we could get this project done.”

“don’t worry about packing up your stuff. act like you’re on the phone or something and i’ll grab your things. i made this mess so i’ll clean it up,” it takes a moment to register the suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t a suggestion.

he wasn’t going to budge.

clearing your throat, you press your phone to your ear, “hello? oh hey! no, you didn’t catch me at a bad time. i just need to leave the room really quick.”

carefully, you weave your way through the maze of chairs and tables, pushing open the door. moments later, you’re outside, inhaling the brisk january air, grateful for the coolness as it seeps into your skin.

“you okay?”

you nod, probably a little too quickly, “yes.”

maul’s brow furrows, yet he doesn’t press any further, adjusting your book bag, “don’t worry about carrying this. i got it. i feel bad.”

“don’t feel bad i mean, you were just teasing--”

“i do,” he cuts in, “i feel bad because i know how you much you dislike unwanted attention. you always get so flustered when the professor calls on you with no warning. you either stutter just a little bit or you pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. i was a little bit of an asshole back there, and i apologize for that. i took care of everything with those chi omega girls too.”

in the darkness, you nearly trip over the sidewalk, “you.. you notice that?”

“i sit right by you and have been for the past two weeks,” he snorts, “i pick up on a thing or two. take a left here.”

all around you, the lights of campus glow softly, illuminating the surroundings with a warm golden glow. the night sky is clear, a few stars glittering over the light pollution of the city. you follow the zabrak, unsure of what to say.

“were.. were you serious about what you said earlier? did kit really say something?”

your knees buckle at the sound of his laughter. how it was so sweet and melodic as it rang out into the night.

“he did say something,” the zabrak raises a hand, pointing to a complex just a few hundred feet ahead of you, “i’m right here. you still up for the offer? i mean, we still have a week and a half but i don’t want to waste your time. you have a lot going on with your classes already. how’s chemistry going?”

“how do you know about chemistry?” you arch a brow, a shudder coursing through you as the breeze rolls through the campus.

“you bitch about it all the time on your instagram story?” the zabrak holds his id next to the door, pulling it open, “regardless of what you may think, i do pay attention to you sweetheart.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” your tone shifts, “i’m not sure what you’re referring to, maul.”

“well,” a hand finds its way to the small of your back, just above the curve of your ass, pushing you gently. realizing that you have to go up the stairs, you begin to trudge upwards, his hand still lingering.

“you have this belief that you’re unattractive because you don’t possess conventional beauty set by the standards of social media and society. i know this because you’ve talked about it on your twitter and your instagram. also, your comment about ‘some other girl i fucked’ really took me aback because i don’t just sleep with anyone. you know that, right? i have standards. and i have goals too, outside from ‘how many bodies i have.’ you also said that to kit, which made me upset. is that what you really think of me?”

in that instant, it was almost as if your heart dropped. you stop at the top of the flight, the clammy sensation coating your hands only growing. wiping your hands on your leggings, you dodge his gaze, clamping your mouth shut.

gods, were you in deep shit now.

fingers grasp your chin, forcing your head to the right. maul takes a step forward, pushing your back against the wall. the concrete sends goosebumps lining your arms, hairs standing on end.

“i asked you a question,” your heart thuds as he leans forward, “is that what you really think of me sweetheart?”

“i-i--” you stammer, heat flourishing to your neck, “t-that’s not i think of you. i was just frustrated because i didn’t know how to process the feelings i had and i’m sorry.”

“feelings?” maul’s lips were practically brushing against yours. and gods, were they so tantalizingly soft, “what kind of feelings?”

“i may have a crush on you.”

“a crush? what is this, fifth grade?” the tease was edged with somewhat you couldn’t quite place your finger on. what was it? lust? want? hunger?

“a crush,” you affirm, “i have a crush on you, maul.”

“you wanna know what i told those chi omega girls?” he inquires, one hand on the wall, the other reaching for your face, cupping your cheek.

“what did you tell those girls?” fuck. were you in deeper shit now.

“i told them we were talking. that you were my girl,” your lashes flutter at his touch, “and you know wanna know what else i told them?”

“what else did you say?” puckering you lips, you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly.

the sound that you hear is nothing like you’ve encountered before.

“i-i,” you feel your lips curve into a smirk as he grits his teeth, “i told them that i was going to fuck you after this. that i was going to completely destroy you.”

“you didn’t---”

his mouth connects with yours for an open-mouthed kiss. it’s electrifying yet blissful, something that would sweep you off your feet yet keep you grounded, keeping you wanting more and more. gods, was it such a craving. to stay in this stairwell, to cherish this moment.

it’s gratifying, enough to make you light-headed with giddiness.

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

yet, he pulls away, panting ever so slightly.

“fuck.”

“fuck?”

his jaw clenches, “you have no fucking idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that. ever since i met you. fuck, i need more. i need more of you. ‘taste so good.”

“we could always--”

“finish this in my apartment? yeah, i want to. but i don’t want to force anything on you and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. i’ve just -- i’ve just been having dreams about you.”

“dreams?” you watch as the zabrak’s eyes squeeze shut, his body shifting away from yours. he’s heading towards the door now, nearly throwing it open.

“dreams about being inside of you. fuck. i need to know how you feel. if you’re as tight as i imagined. and fuck, i need to feel how wet you are too. how wet you get for me. have you ever tasted yourself before?”

you shake your head, “i haven’t.”

maul practically stalks down the hallway, finding his door. sliding the key into the lock, he steps inside, placing your bags on the floor, “would you rather study or would you rather let me express how i feel?”

thumbs loop through the pocket of your hoodie, pulling you close to him. fuck, you could feel him against your body. the stiffness of his cock underneath his sweats. how hot and bothered he was for you, practically aching for some sort of release.

“what do you mean ‘express how you feel’?” carefully, you dip a hand into the waistband, hand wrapping around the outline, squeezing gently.

“oh fuck,” maul throws his head back, moaning ever so slightly, “i-i may have a crush on you too. and i wanted to express how i felt. i-i’m not good with words.”

“why don’t you show me then?” your clit throbs as you feel along his shaft, fingers grazing over the ridges, thumb pressing against his tip.

“bend over the fucking counter then and i’ll fucking show you then, princess. you better not utter a single fucking word about this fucking project because it’s my turn to study you.”

☆☆☆☆☆

taggin' some maul moots: @maulieber @maulfrk @hounding-around @maximumninjavoid @xcertaindarkthingsx @zabrak-show @anakinswhore @arsonistvoyager @bonesaldente @catsnkooks@darthmaulslut

[streetlight11]

Deep Scar

Summary: He used to be the popular kid in high school where everyone has a crush on him. He always gets Valentine's Day gifts be it presents, chocolates, homemade brownies, etc. He somehow brought his name to college where there were people who still finds him attractive. What happens when he bumps into a girl who treated him a lot different compared to others? Will he find out the truth behind her behaviour?

Theme: college au, childhood schoolmates but with a bad past

Genre: a little angsty, fluff ending though

Warnings: mild swearing (literally just one word), slight mention of harassment but nothing too crazy

WC: 4.6k

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hey hey :) I've had this in my google drive for quite sometime so my writing might not be so good here but bear with me. P.S the words in italics are his flashback, and hannie might sound like a jerk at one point but this doesn't portray him in real life because irl he's an absolute sweetheart :') Anyways, enjoy reading!

Coming to campus every morning only to find gifts and plenty of love letters in his locker has been becoming a daily routine for Jisung. Although he has never actually reciprocated any of them, he must admit that he did love the amount of attention that’s been drawn to him since back in high school.

He was the popular kid in school where he was known for his intelligence, charming personality and of course, his good looks.

Back in high school, girls would often slot in their confession letters in his locker almost everyday. Every Valentine’s Day, his table would be filled with chocolates and homemade brownies specially for him.

But all of those gifts would eventually be passed to his close friends for them to finish it for him.

Even now when he’s already in college, words spread around the campus of his status back in Saebom High, making everyone in Hankuk College know about him. Despite this new set of attention that was being directed towards him, he managed to make friends with a few people that he trusts.

Some of them were his classmates in college, some were his friends from music class, and some were his good friends back in high school. 

That day was no different as he walked down the hall to go to his designated locker, only to find a pink paper that had been folded into a cute little heart.

“Another love letter? Dude, at this point you should really date one of them so that this whole shenanigan would stop.” Chan said with a soft chuckled as Minho and Jeongin nodded in agreement with the elder boy. Jisung rolled his eyes as he unfolded the paper and read the confession, that was pretty much the same as the other notes he received.

All of which, never got reciprocated simply because Jisung believes he hasn’t found anyone that peaked his interest yet.

After about 5 minutes, he slammed his locker shut as the four boys began to walk down the hall, not missing the constant shy giggles and whispers from every direction. Jisung simply walked with his charming smile plastered on his face, making some girls feel their heart flutter in their chest.

Just when they had made a left turn, a figure smaller than them came crashing straight into Jisung’s shoulder, causing both individuals to stumble back a step from the impact.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” The girl who was rubbing her shoulder said as she locked eyes with him firmly. Jisung was slightly baffled as no other girl would even dare to look at him straight in the eye.

“Excuse me?” He said, his voice clearly confused but the girl simply rolled her eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

“You heard me. I don’t have to say it twice.” 

“Do you even know who I am?” He asked, slowly starting to feel anger boiling through his veins.

“Do you think I care?” She taunts.

“Other girls would be scrambling away by now.”

“Oh, how exciting. Next time, wear side goggles so you can watch where you’re going.” Was all she said before she shoves past him to continue her journey down the hall to go to her class.

Everyone in that hallway was surprised with their little interaction. Some of them even snickered at her for behaving that way in front of him. As far as he knows, all the girls in school never dared to speak to him in person, nor would they even look at him straight in the eyes for they would either run away in embarrassment, or their face would turn flushed red.

Jisung tried not to think much of it as he continued his walk to his class.

During lunch, the boys had gathered at their usual table. However, Hyunjin and Seungmin were running slightly late this time. They were just a few bites into their meal when Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone at their table’s attention.

“Hey guys! Is it okay if our new friend joins us? She just transferred here so me and Seungmin offered her to have lunch with us.”

At the mention of a female, Jisung whips his head around, only to lock eyes with the same girl he bumped into just a few hours prior.

“You again? Try not to miss your mouth this time when you eat.” She said as her gaze locked on Jisung, leaving him speechless.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanged glances at each other in confusion but decided to just carry on with lunch as they ended up sitting with her. If she weren’t too direct, Jisung could almost agree that she was acting quite the opposite towards Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe with the others as well. She seemed genuinely friendly and almost effortlessly bright with them. 

If he was being honest, it almost upsets him that she treated him like an outcast as compared to the rest of his close friends. Days slowly but surely became weeks as she started to grow visibly close to Hyunjin and Seungmin probably because they were her classmates.

It was a Friday evening and they all decided to go to a pool bar where they had pool tables for people to play and also have light drinks if they wanted to.

They rented out two tables for themselves as they divided into two teams.

“Y/N! Join our team!” Hyunjin called as Y/N giggled, only for her to catch Jisung staring at her from one of the high stools beside the bar.

“I’ll join if he does.” 

She said as she nodded her head towards Jisung, only for the others to immediately drag him to Hyunjin’s pool table. The game soon started as Hyunjin served first. She seems to surprise them everytime she serves because all her shots were smooth and almost effortless. It was as if she’s done this multiple times.

“Wow, how are you so good at this?” Seungmin asked as she smiled at him, only to answer his question.

“I guess I’m pretty good at aiming.”

The boy giggled as they watched Hyunjin score a ball. All the while, Jisung was silently watching her by the side. 

Not in a creepy way but more like in a confused way. After they finished their one hour at the pool bar, they left to get dinner but she decided to call it a day for her and that she needed to go home to feed her starving kitty.

The boys bid her goodbye as she left, only for Changbin to question his friend.

“Jisung ah, you cannot tell me you’re not the slightest bit intrigued by her…”

With that, Jisung frowned as his mind came swirling back to all the times they’ve hung out with her and gotten to know her better. From all the mean comments tossed at each other like they were flat bread, to the time where she seemed genuinely concerned when Jisung nearly got run over by a speeding truck.

“No… No I’m not.”

Only he knows that it was a total lie but he wasn’t going to admit it to his friends. 

His ego was too high for him to easily admit that after all these years of girls trying so hard to win his attention, all he needed was Y/N to come into the picture and that was all it took for him to finally fall for someone.

Nobody needed to know his true feelings for her. He didn’t think it would be much of a big deal so he opted to keep his feelings to himself. It was another week into April, when Chan decided to invite them over to his apartment to hang out and chill on a chilly Saturday. Chan of course included Y/N in the list, hence the reason why she was currently standing outside his apartment door.

She was wearing a brown fitted crop top, her favourite denim ripped skinny jeans, a bomber jacket and her white converse.

She was greeted by Chan as he opened the door wider for her to enter.

She made it inside only to find Felix and Minho challenging each other in a game of Mario Kart Race. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin were busy playing Call Of Duty on their phones. Jisung, Jeongin and Chan were in the kitchen, cooking up some hot kimchi stew.

Y/N took off her jacket as she went to snuggle in between Changbin and Hyunjin, watching them play an intense game of COD.

She was just laying her head on Changbin’s shoulder when he jerked forward, making her body shake as he turned to Hyunjin and high fived him after winning first place. Just then, he noticed the sad pout on her face at the loss of warmth, making him giggle as he sat back down to let her rest her head on his shoulder again before he whispered.

“Sorry baby.” She giggled as she pinched his abs, making him squeak. He laughed as he corrected himself.

“I’m just kidding.”

She smiled as she nuzzled into his shoulder while they were all occupied with doing their own things. A few minutes later, the 3 boys from the kitchen came back to the living room with the pot of kimchi stew and a rice bowl. 

However, Y/N didn’t miss the subtle frown on Jisung’s face when he saw her leaning her head against Changbin’s shoulder.

The 9 of them began eating diligently as they fit in almost any possible topic they could think off. After they finished their meal, she offered to wash the dishes since they were all busy. Chan told her not to trouble herself but she insisted on helping him.

She was scrubbing the second last bowl when she heard Jeongin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Noona! Come join us after you’re done washing the dishes okay? We’re gonna play truth or drink!”

“Okay Jeonginie.” She sang in a sing-song tune as she could hear some of them chuckle in the back.

As promised, she joined them after she was done with the last bowl, only to sit in between Minho and Seungmin. They went in a circle starting from Chan. It was in a circle until it reached her, only for Changbin to eagerly raise his hand.

“Oh! Oh! I have a good one!” Changbin said as his inner corner of the lips curved up into a cute smile, making her giggle.

“If you could go back to your past, what is the one thing that you would choose not to do?” His question was good. It was theoretical but good.

Suddenly, her eyes just instantly found Jisung’s soft brown ones as she told them her answer.

“The one thing I would choose not to do? Probably allowing myself to think that whatever people said to me was true.”

The guys started to frown as they asked if something bad happened to her back then but she simply shrugged them off and told them to continue the game. It went on until it was Jisung’s turn, only for Y/N to speak up.

“I have something I wanna ask him.”

This came as a surprise for the others but they let her do the honours anyway.

“Do you remember the girl who confessed to you back in high school?” She said. His eyebrows began to link together as he frowned at her sudden question.

“Huh?”

“The one where you rejected her confession by humiliating her in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Think harder.” She said.

Suddenly, memories start to flood in his mind like a flash flood.

“H-Hi. I made these for you. I hope you like cupcakes. I k-know a lot of other girls do this for you too, b-but… I-I just thought maybe I should give you something too. I- umm, I like y-you Han Jisung.” The girl confessed as she held out the box filled with her homemade cupcakes that she took time to bake for him the night before.

She bit the inside of her cheeks nervously as she diligently avoided his gaze. Just when she saw his arms reaching out to her thinking he was going to take the box from her, he forcefully smashed the box down making it slip out of her hands.

The students around them began to laugh as Jisung lifted a brow at her.

“Did you really think I’d accept your confession? Look at you. Who would date a girl who ties their hair in pigtails, have her tummy sticking out of her uniform shirt and constantly push the bridge of your spectacles up every 5 minutes? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Nobody will ever fall for you.”

With that being said, he kicked the metal box away to reveal the fallen cupcakes as he went ahead and stepped on them like it was an insect.

The whole school laughed at her as she ran to the girls bathroom and locked herself in there as she cried her heart out. She was only 13 so it was slightly depressing for her to go through this terrible rejection.

Not only did he reject her in cold blood, he also humiliated her in front of everybody in the process. However, what made her even more upset is the fact that he didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit of remorse for saying those things to her.

That memory was as clear as day as he winced at the thought of how immature he was back then. Nevertheless, he didn’t forget the question he got from Y/N as he went ahead to answer her.

“Yeah… Yeah I remember…”

“Do you remember what you said to her?” Her voice softened as she kept her eyes on him while the rest of them had their eyes trained back and forth between Jisung and her.

“I said… I said she should look at herself in the mirror and that no one will ever fall for her.” 

The boys were shocked by how harsh he was to that said girl. Y/N could only smile sadly to him as she slowly continued. 

“Do you feel bad saying those things to her now?” 

Without much thought, he replied something that broke her heart.

“Why should I?” With that, she tried to hold back her tears as she looked at him dead in the eye before saying these next few words.

“Looks like you’re still that same cocky bastard huh?”

She soon got up from her seat on the floor, only to grab her things to leave when Jisung stood up to grab her wrist, stopping her from taking any more steps further.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, now genuinely confused as to what was going on.

“You’re really dense for someone as arrogant as you.” A scoff left her lips as her eyes bore into his, hoping he understood what she meant. After what felt like forever, Jisung finally realized as it was as though his life just flashed before his eyes.

“Wait… that was you?!” His voice was loud as it was laced with confusion and slight disappointment.

“And what happens if I say yes? Are you gonna ask me if I’ve looked into the mirror and realize that no one will ever fall for me?”

Her words stinged like venoms as he winced yet again but this time, at how hurt she seemed. She didn’t realise this but her tears were no longer held back as a few droplets rolled down her cheeks.

“Your words hurted me back then. So I tried to ignore it and move on. But when you said your answer just now, I realized that maybe you really are just an arrogant jerk.”

She finally pulled her arm out of his grasp as she left without sparing a glance to the others. Jisung has never felt so utterly remorseful, today was the first time. He mentally scolded himself for saying those words back when he was young and immature.

He has never felt so fucked up before, this was definitely the first.

A few days went by, Y/N hasn’t talked to either of the boys, not even Hyunjin and Seungmin. Every time Jisung tried to reach out to her, she would always successfully avoid him. It has been almost 2 weeks since they last talked to her as the boys agreed to go release their stress by going to the downtown club.

They had booked a booth for all 8 of them as they sat in there with some girls coming back and forth to try and get laid with either one of them.

Just then, Jisung’s eyes seemed to scan the room only to see a familiar figure dancing freely on the dance floor. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him.

He double confirmed that it was in fact Y/N, as he got up and left the booth ignoring the boy’s calls.

Right when he was about to reach the dance floor, he saw her deliberately get dragged through the sweaty, intoxicated humans and towards the back door. He followed them close behind as he saw her struggling to free herself from the man’s hold.

The minute she was out the back, the man pushed her against the brick wall as he attacked her neck forcefully.

“Stop!” She begged.

The man ignored as he started to caress her waist and moved up.

“Stop it!” She tried again as tears started to roll down her cheeks desperately.

The minute she managed to put a distance between herself and the man, the metal back door swung open harshly only for her to lock eyes with Jisung as he rushed down the steps, only to land a solid punch to the man’s jaw.

The man fell to the ground drunkenly as he struggled to stand back up.

“What the fuck man? Get your own girl!” The man said as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist and was about to pull her when Jisung roughly shoved him off again.

The man threw a few drunk punches to Jisung and soon they were both in a fist fight. The two males were starting to have blood clots and bruises all over their bodies and faces when Hyunjin and Changbin came to stop the fight.

“Jisung! Jisung! That’s enough!” Hyunjin yelled as they both grabbed Jisung by his arms and pulled him back.

“Don’t ever touch her again.” Jisung growled as the man stumbled back into the club.

Y/N frowned as she visibly hugged herself, only to see Hyunjin and Changbin give Jisung a subtle nod before they both went back inside, giving privacy to Jisung and Y/N. Once they were alone in the dark alley, that’s when she spoke up.

“Why did you come? Afraid someone might fall for me?”

“You clearly weren't comfortable with him.”

“So what? Why do you care? It’s not like he would fall in love with me. Who am I for someone to even like me? Right?”

Jisung frowned as he called out her name softly but she was quick to intercept.

“I didn’t go to Hankuk to get back at you for what you did to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d even see you again. But now that you’re standing here in front of me, that very day comes back to haunt me again. Because of your words, I have been so afraid of falling for someone, even just a tiny crush. That’s what you did to me Han Jisung and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

With that being said, she turned in her heels and left. Jisung stood there like an idiot as he cursed himself for letting her walk away yet again. 

If this happened back in high school, he would probably laugh at her. But now that he was actually starting to like her, he has never felt so upset and disappointed. This was probably even worse than a break up.

She refused to speak to him for days after as she avoided everyone in the friend group.

It was a gloomy Friday night as she was laying on her couch sideways, watching a sappy romantic movie to drown her sadness. She was wearing a loose sweater that made it look like a dress on her. Her calf high socks and a pair of shorts she always wore to sleep.

She had just thought about what she could get for supper when there was a knock on her door.

“Who the hell comes at a time like this?” She thought to herself as she went over to her door and opened it without checking the peephole first. She almost stumbled as she locked eyes with the same pair of brown orbs that she’s been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” She asked, genuinely shocked at how he knew her address.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please just hear me out. I don’t need you to say anything, I just need you to listen.”

She fell silent for a moment before she opened the door wider for him to enter. Once inside, he followed her to her living room, only for them to sit 3 feet apart. She urged him with a slight nod as he took a deep breath and soon began.

“Look. I know whatever I did to you back then was horrible. It was my ego talking. I didn’t know any better. We were so young… How could I possibly feel bad at the time when all I thought was to reject you?”

Just then, she cut him in by saying something that made him rethink his choices.

“You’re telling me that everything you said to me meant nothing to you just because it wasn’t you who received it?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was young-”

“Bullshit. Even a 5 year old kid knows what’s nice and what’s hurtful to say to others. Don’t pull the young card on me.”

“Y/N please-”

“Get out. If you’re still gonna be the same arrogant, highly egoistic jerk then get out. You’ve said things that left a deep scar in my life and here you are saying it doesn’t mean anything? Get out.”

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” She finally screamed as her chest was heaving, her tears streaming down her face in anger but she didn’t care. She got up as she dragged him to the door, while he tried to fight back. The minute he was out, she slammed the door behind her only to lock it as she found herself sliding down the door, only to sit on the wooden floor.

Her cries were soft, but they were filled with so much pain. On the other side of the door, Jisung could hear her cries as he too kneeled on the ground with his hands against the door.

He could hear her loud and clear as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t bear to say a word to her as he remained quiet.

The next morning, Y/N woke up suddenly wanting to get herself breakfast to clear her memory from last night. She got out of bed, took a warm shower, got changed into her sweatpants, a big hoodie and a cap. She unlocked her door and had just taken a step outside when she jumped at the slight of Jisung seated on the ground beside her apartment door.

Since he was a light sleeper, the sound of her door opening, woke him up as he quickly got on both feet.

Before she could re-enter her apartment, he pressed his palms against the door to prevent her from closing it as he spoke up softly.

“Y/N, please, please let me explain.” He begged as she wasn’t sure why but she decided to let him in. Once he was inside, they didn’t even bother to go anywhere further into her apartment as he stood by the door and began to explain himself.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know what I did was bad. At the time, I didn’t realise how humiliating it was for you. But now that I’m an adult, I realized that my actions were extremely horrible and I would never, ever do that to anyone now.” He paused before he continued on.

“I know that whatever I said and did back then, I can’t take any of it back. And I don’t blame you for not forgetting or forgiving me for it. I admit that I deserve this from you. All I ask is for you to give me another chance to start over. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” He said with a tiny hope laced in his voice although he wasn’t so confident that she would forgive him this time.

She knew he felt guilty for whatever he did back then so it wasn’t wrong for her to give him a second chance right?

“How would I know you’re not just acting this way to set me up for humiliation again?” She asked.

“Would I say all those things and bring my ego down just to prove that I felt like utter shit after everything you told me, only to humiliate you even further?”

“Nobody knows what your ego is capable of.”

“If my words won’t convince you, would my actions do?”

“What if you do it, only to leave and tell on me to everyone else?”

“I can’t seem to get your trust now, can I?”

“Try being in my shoe and you’ll know.”

“Y/N please… I know I left a deep scar on you emotionally and mentally back then, but please… I beg you, please just… let me start over. I need you to trust me just this once.”

“Fine. But if you abuse my trust, I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Believe me, you have no idea how fucked up I felt that night at Chan’s.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he didn’t waste anymore time as he reached up to cup her face in both hands and soon kissed her. She instantly melted against his body as he pulled her closer by the waist. His kisses were so gentle, as if he was afraid he would break her again.

His touch was soft as he slid his hands under her shirt only to draw random patterns onto her waist.

Just then, he pulled away from her lips but it was so addicting he couldn’t help but peck her lips one last time before he spoke up.

“I’m really, really sorry Y/N for everything back then. I couldn’t help but feel like complete shit after that night when I found out that was you. You don’t have to forgive me, I totally understand.”

Y/N just smiled as she gently tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck before she spoke up.

“Would I have let you kiss me if I was still mad?”

He remained quiet as she then continued.

“Besides, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself so please, don’t take advantage of this.” She warned gently.

Jisung kissed her for slightly longer before he pulled away and whispered against her lips.

“I promise.”

With that, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest while he snaked his arms around her smaller figure. 

Ever since then, Jisung did everything he could to redeem himself for what he did to her back in high school. She slowly began to fall for him as she gave him a solid second chance and she could see how genuine he was now whenever he did something nice for her. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew that he really tried his best to win her heart. And it worked.

~~~

[dal3ks]

coming home

pairing: peter parker x female reader 

word count: 2.7k

warnings: sexual remarks, smut, cursing, allusions to sex, marking 

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin​, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic! 

“so when does your flight leave columbus?” peter asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

“tomorrow at nine a.m.,” you answered, “i can’t wait to see you.”

he beamed, “me either, love. it’s been a long three months without you.”

currently, you were sitting in your dorm room at ohio state university. you were on a facetime call with your boyfriend, peter parker. it was approaching midnight, 11:38 p.m., to be exact.

 the next morning, you would be boarding a plane home. you were beyond excited to see everyone during thanksgiving break, as you hadn’t seen your parents in a few weeks. parent’s weekend was the last week of october, so it had been a while. 

your heart ached at the thought of being curled up in bed with your dogs. your heart also ached at the thought of being curled up with your sweet, loving, boy.

peter had opted for a small private college in town for engineering and psychics. since he was a part of the avengers, they provided most of the funds for his tuition. it also helped that stark industries was on his résumé. meanwhile, you were about five hundred and thirty-three miles away in columbus.

yet, ohio state was your dream school. you wanted to go there since you could remember. it also helped that your father was an alumni. the university granted you a scholarship for that, and your ACT and SAT scores helped as well. you felt extremely blessed to be at your dream school, and you always remembered to remain humble.

“well babe,” peter began, “i need to start my term paper for my english class. anything on your mind before i go?”

“i just can’t wait to fuck you,” the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

peter raised a brow, “oh really? well, i can say the same for you princess.”

hearing your favorite nickname made your heart skip a beat, “i’m sorry i said that.”

“don’t be sorry,” peter smirked, “i loved hearing that. just you wait, princess. i’ll take care of you, just like i always do.”

“i want you now,” you whined.

“wait twenty-four hours and you’ll have me,” peter cooed, “i promise, princess. i have to go work on this paper, okay? i love you. text me.”

you pouted, jutting out your lip. peter sighed, “i can’t get distracted. it’s a ten page research paper. it’s really important babe.”

“okayyyy,” you huffed, picking a string on your comforter, “i love you too. see you tomorrow, handsome.”

“see you tomorrow, beautiful,” peter grinned, and the facetime call ended.

you plugged in your phone, letting it charge. you used to have a roommate, until she had to transfer in the middle of the semester. now, there was more empty space in the room. it was truly inevitable not to feel so lonely. especially when you were so fucking far away from everyone.

you hopped out of bed, opening the curtains. from your hall, you could see some of the glittering lights of the city. you could feel your heart aching, longing for the familiarity of your home. queens was your home. columbus was your second home. no where could ever compare to the place you grew up.

only a few more hours, though, and you would be home.

******

“is this seat open still?” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

startled, you glanced up to see a young man standing in the aisle of the airplane. even though you had the middle seat, the plane wasn’t entirely full. you decided to scoot closer to the window so you could see the sky.

you nodded, and the young man slid in beside you, “sorry, my seat was supposed to be the window seat, but i think you’re sitting in it. i don’t want to make you move. besides, looking out scares me a little bit.”

“i’m so sorry,” you apologized, “i didn’t know. you can have it back if you want.”

“oh no,” the man chuckled, “it’s not a big deal. don’t even worry about it.”

“where you flying to?” you inquired, as the man settled in his seat, “i’m (y/n), by the way.”

“i’m trying to get to manhattan,” the guy shrugged, “i’m aiden.”

“oh that’s cool!” you nodded, “i’m from queens.”

“gotcha,” aiden smiled, “actually, i’m coming from ohio state. i’m guessing you attend there as well?”

“yes,” you gushed, “i’m a kinesiology major, how about you?”

“i was a political science,” aiden replied, pulling out his phone, “but i switched to business. international marketing, specifically. i’m a junior though. i assume that you’re a freshman?”

“yep,” you answered, “navigating everything myself.”

“you’re not doing too bad,” he chuckled, “our background has probably helped a lot. do you have a snapchat or anything like that? don’t worry, i’m not hitting on you or anything. if you have a boyfriend back home, or at ohio state, i completely respect that. i just don’t want someone struggling alone. i’m not saying you are struggling, but i know the ins and outs of the school. if you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“oh yeah, i do,” you pulled your phone out of your pocket, “i’ll just add it to my notes and add you later. you’re extremely kind.”

“it’s not a problem,” aiden smiled, and that’s when you truly got a good look at him.

he was more than likely a college athlete. probably at ohio state for something like rugby, lacrosse, or rowing. he was fit, with a darker complexion. freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, and his dark brown curls were full. his jawline was clean, his handsome face completed with hazel eyes. god, if you weren’t single, you probably would have tried to make a move on the guy. he was gorgeous.

however, your anticipation to see the love of you life was eating away at you. your knee bounced up and down as you talked to aiden the rest of the flight. it was nice to have someone to talk to, as the it made the time fly by.

in no time, the plane was landing. aiden followed you as you boarded off, and towards the gate. security and bag checks felt like forever, but you finally made it through. you said your goodbyes to aiden, hoping that you two would reconnect once again. almost immediately, you were entering the train that was going to take you to your next stop. then, you would only be walking a couple blocks home. peter informed you that as soon as you were home, he was gonna come over.

you were excited, but a little anxious. insecurities started to creep into your thoughts. what if you had gained a noticeable amount of weight since the last time you saw him? what if you looked different? what if you weren’t good enough? even the thought of being naked in front of peter frightened you. however, you figured it was a little normal to be a little anxious. after all, it had been about three months since the last time you saw him.

suddenly, you were home. in front of you was your house, the crisp blue sky making the white paint appear clean and bright. the late november air was brittle, and the sun was on its way to dip over the horizon soon. skyscrapers in the skyline began to glisten as the sky got darker and darker. the traffic, people, and animals all became white noise as you walked up the sidewalk.

happiness flooded over you, especially as soon as you heard your dogs barking. you turned the knob, opening the door. your parents welcomed you with warm hugs, your dogs jumping everywhere with excitement.

after talking with your parents for a while, you trudged upstairs to your room. as soon as you opened the door of your room, you let out a sigh of happiness. so this is what pure happiness felt like. the feeling of bliss was immense.

you heard some commotion from your dogs downstairs, which you figured was a passerby or an animal. it happened often in your neighborhood. you could hear someone walking up the steps, and you inferred it was one of your parents.

it was not your mom or your dad. it was peter. immediately he scooped you into his embrace, and you felt yourself crumple into his arms. tears rolled down your cheeks as he squeezed you slightly, kissing the top of your head.

“i had no idea you were on your way,” you sniffled.

“once you stopped responding to my snaps for a bit i was worried,” peter murmured, “but i figured you were here. so i just decided to head this way.”

“i love you,” your eyes met his, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” peter grinned, “i love you more than you know, princess.”

******

“so what were you saying yesterday?” peter turned to you.

you raised a brow, confused, “what are you talking about?”

currently, you two were in your bed cuddling. it was the day before thanksgiving, so your parents were out buying groceries for the big dinner. so that left you and peter alone. the room was dimly lit by the christmas lights strung on the ceiling, and your favorite playlist was on low volume. peter’s shirt was off, and so were your pants. it just made things more comfortable.

“you talked about wanting to fuck me,” he answered, gently kissing your neck. he ran his fingers through your hair, “or was i mistaken?”

“i think you have a hearing deficiency,” you snorted, rolling over.

“heyyy,” peter whined, “how about i give you a back rub?”

the idea was tempting. it had been a long time since you had received a backrub from peter. sighing, you slipped off your hoodie, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. you laid on your stomach, and peter straddled your back.

his hands worked in gentle, soothing patterns on your skin. they stayed on your shoulders and back for a while, but started to drift downwards towards the small of your back, along with your butt. as he continued, you could almost feel the sexual tension in the air of the room. it was almost electric between the two of you as his hands roamed your body.

“hey princess,” peter’s voice was low, “can i take off your thong?”

you felt yourself stiffen, “no.”

“is something wrong?” his tone shifted from lust to fear. peter shifted his body so that he was now laying beside you again, “baby, what’s wrong?”

“i feel ugly,” you muttered, “it’s been a while, and i don’t know, i guess i feel insecure.”

“hey,” peter’s hand cupped your face, “you’re still beautiful (y/n) i fell in love with. i don’t care if anything has changed. if there are more stretch marks, i’ll kiss them all. whatever you’re worried about, let me handle, okay? you’re beautiful, (y/n). you’re so gorgeous. three months has no change to your beauty.”

“i love you,” your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“i love you more,” peter’s lips met yours gently. he pulled back for a second, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

peter looked as handsome as ever. it was clear he just shaved, as his face was clean. his floppy brown hair was somewhat contained, and his brown eyes shown, as there was nothing but love for you in his eyes. his lips were full, and he a looked wiser than he did since the last time you saw him. you figured stress, college, and being a hero all were factors. his muscles were apparent, rippling whenever he moved. god, you were so lucky to have this man.

you pressed your lips to peter’s, this time a little more forceful. he was taken a back by your actions, but regained control. he licked your bottom lip, and his tongue entered your mouth. he shifted you so that you were now underneath him. his callused hands trailed down the sides of your body, going up and down in slow motions. you could tell he was being careful, as you both wanted to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

“fuck,” peter mumbled.

“what?” your lips were still against his.

“i’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he admitted, “i can’t wait to make you cum.”

“then do it,” your words almost pushed him over the edge.

he tilted your head up, kissing directly under your jawline. you moaned softly, urging him to continue. he placed sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin. he had barely even started with you and you could feel how wet you were.

“can i take this off?” peter’s breath was hot against your skin.

“yes,” you answered, arching your back so his hands could unclasp your bra. he casted it to floor.

he placed kisses all over your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your thong.

“is it okay if i take this off too?” his tone was full of lust, you could tell he was beyond turned on.

peter’s cheeks were a slight tinge of pink, and his ears burned bright red. you figured you were just as bad, as you laid naked in front of him. his eyes casted over your entire body, taking it all in.

“you’re so beautiful,” peter seemed completely awestruck, “like fuck. can you do something for me princess?”

“what’s that?” you bit your lip.

“please sit on my face,” his question was more a plead as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “i want you to ride my face.”

“peter i don’t know,” your were unsure. it had been a while since you tried that position with him, and you didn’t want to suffocate your own boyfriend.

“i’ll still be able to breathe baby,” peter chuckled, as if he was reading your thoughts, “please? i need to taste my princess.”

his words were enough. you nodded, and peter laid on his back. nervously, you swung one leg over his body, and he pulled you closer to where he wanted you. once you were situated, his eyes met yours once more.

“just relax,” peter cooed, gently kissing each one of your thighs.

his tongue found your clit, going in slow, circular motions. a moan escaped your lips, only encouraging peter to keep going. one hand was on the small of your back to keep you steady, the other reaching up for your breasts. he began to suck slightly, which drove you closer and closer to your orgasm. god, you had missed this. peter knew exactly what you loved, and he showed no signs of slowing down either.

peter glanced up at you, watching as you moaned for him. his tongue slowly began to lick up and down, “such a good girl, keep moaning for me. i love when you’re loud.”

your moans echoed off the walls as peter continued to lick all over your pussy. his fingers tugged at your nipples, and you could feel your orgasm coming. you came without warning, your vision becoming blurry. your thighs trembled as pleasure washed all over you. peter gave your pussy one final lick, sending a shudder through your body.

“are you okay?” peter’s voice was no longer demanding. it was more gentle and soft. he helped you off his body, laying down with you in the bed. he began to trace his fingers down your exposed back, going in slow, soothing motions.

you nodded, “just tired, now.”

peter smirked, “did i wear you out?”

“just a little bit,” you scoffed, rolling over.

“don’t roll away from meeee,” he protested, wrapping you up in his arms, “i love you, princess.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, giving him a chaste kiss.

peter sighed with content, pulling you closer to his body. the door to your room was shut, so your parents wouldn’t bother the two of you. as you began to run your fingers through your hair, peter began to drift off. soon enough, he was out, his chest rising and falling. it wasn’t too long after that you fell yourself yourself.

coming home to peter was your favorite thing in the world.

[sierraraeck]

Daylight

Spencer x GN! Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After a long time without answers and your relationship ending on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and can finally put things to rest. Part one.

The prompt from @veraiconcos Fic Writer Challenge was “If I asked you to stay, would you?” This is bolded within the fic.

Category: Angst. Just pure angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mention of normal CM stuff. Suggestive content.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This was initially a songfic and now it’s not, however it was still inspired by the song “Daylight” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Internal dialogue

Flashback

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

In one word, complicated.

Yes, that was a cliche and overused, but there was really no better way to describe your relationship with Spencer. Unless of course people preferred terms like arduous, intricate, convoluted, twisted, entangled, or your personal favorite, fucked up. Although, that might be a little harsh. Kind of. It was complicated.

And things continued on that path when you waltzed into the San Jose precinct, ready to defend your client against none other than the BAU.

Despite being 28, you were already one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state, and had already had a couple run-ins with the FBI. Luckily, none of those had been against the ‘all-powerful’ behavioral analysis unit, and you were able to wrangle out some wins, or at least, the best you could have hoped for given the circumstances. This time, a man, Brayden Lee, had been arrested as a suspect for a series of strangulations, all of the victims tall, blonde, college athletes. Looking over his case and the amount of evidence against him, you felt sure that you could manage a favorable deal.

But now, your strides faltered as you saw the team of profilers standing around in a circle, speaking in hushed voices, immediately turning around to watch you in. Well, it wasn’t necessarily them that teetered your confidence, it was more like him. And that damn hair.

You were at your older brother’s graduation. A small, skinny kid with moppy brown curls walked across the stage, the gown he was wearing clearly three sizes too big for him. He looked really young, about your age, which immediately interested you.

“Spencer Reid,” the announcer called. He accepted his diploma, moved his tassel from one side to the other, and plopped right back down in his seat.

You just stared at him from your place high up in the bleachers, almost missing your brother as he walked across the stage. You clapped and cheered, but you still couldn’t tear your eyes from the strange kid who’d walked across moments before him. When the ceremony was over, you asked your brother who he was, and all he gave you was a shrug and an arched eyebrow. That was not exactly the answer you were looking for. So you took it upon yourself, being the awkwardly brave kid you were at 12, to find him and learn more. You ended up taking him home after the ceremony, and that was that. You still remember the dopey smile he gave you as he hopped out of the backseat, a smile that you would miss for three more years.

You tried to compose yourself as you avoided eye contact with any of them, marching toward the interrogation room to have some time alone with your client. But it had never been this hard to concentrate before.

Snap out of it. It’s been four fucking years, six if you really think about it, so you need to get it together. This man, the one right in front of your face, needs your help.

So you did just that. As a lawyer, you had to have intense focus, so you made yourself hone in on that skill. The two older men of the team came in to have quite the nice chat with you and your client, but it ended fairly close to how you predicted. He would be let off, for now, but you would have to stay on call in case they found more evidence of your client’s guilt. You ushered Brayden out of the station and into a cab, telling him that you’d be in touch if anything else came up and to keep a low profile.

You were ready to be done, but had to make sure there weren’t any other loopholes or things they weren’t telling you before you could leave. You trudged back into the precinct, expecting to talk to the two men you saw earlier, but found that once-nerdy boy you used to know waiting for you. Not to say he wasn’t still nerdy, you were sure he was, but he’d definitely changed since the last time you saw him.

You tried to act as professional as possible, “Is there anything else that I need to know about this case and your evidence against my client?” Honestly, you were shocked at how calm your voice sounded.

“As long as you’ve heard about his recent purchases and easy access to the material used to strangle these women, no,” he responded, just as casually.

“Okay great, and nothing else in the profile I should be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then,” you said, turning on your heels to walk out.

“That’s it?” Spencer’s tone suddenly sounded confused, even accusatory, which was such a stark contrast to the smoothe, gentle voice you remembered.

You were at the local library studying for your midterms before the holiday break. No one really went there anymore, and there were a ton of good research tools available, so it was the perfect quiet study spot. Well, mostly quiet, that was, until the ever-so-irritating ping of books being checked out was going off non-stop. You’d had enough, so you shot over your shoulder, “Jesus, how many books do you need?”

The pinging immediately stopped, and you heard a small, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lot, but something about that voice seemed familiar. You turned fully around to see those piercing gold eyes staring at you, and you recognized those curls.

“No way. You’re the kid who graduated high school at age twelve! I remember you,” you blurted before really thinking.

“Yeah. Hey (y/n),” he said.

“I’m so sorry I snapped at you like that…”

“Spencer,” he filled in, after hearing you hiss like a snake, trying to jog your memory of his name.

“Spencer! Sorry about that, I’m just kinda stressed about my exams,” you explained.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Spencer replied, gesturing to his ever-growing pile of books.

You inquired about how things were going for him, and he told you all about how his first year and a half in college had been, already obtaining his bachelor’s in mathematics.

“That’s so impressive. Think you could help me?” you said in a somewhat mocking tone.

Of course, he took you seriously, not picking up on the half-joke. “Sure.”

Although, you were thrilled he offered, and the two of you spent the next couple of hours talking about high school and college classes, your seemingly easy math compared to his, and him helping you with any other subject you needed help with, like AP biology and psychology. At the end of the night, you gave him your phone number, trying to cover up your little crush with a joke about needing his help as you rushed out into the freezing night air.

He never used it.

“Yeah. That’s it,” you shot over your shoulder.

“(y/n), hold on, I-” he started.

“Doctor Reid, they need you in the conference room,” some lady said. Now that caught your attention. You spun back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes flitted between you and the lady who told him he was needed.

“What are you waiting for, Doctor,” you sneered. He let out a sigh, giving you one last pointed look before turning away. You didn’t even know people called him ‘doctor’ now.

You returned home, hoping that the case would get cleared up easily, that they’d find a different culprit and you wouldn’t have to risk that floodgate of emotions bursting open. No such luck. They found Brayden at the scene of the crime, literally in the middle of digging up an old victim to do god knows what with, and took him back into custody. When you got back to the precinct, you told your client not to say a word, and asked what the charges were and if he was going to be transferred in the meantime. The answers to your questions were not in your favor, and you had one of the worst client-lawyer conversations you'd ever experienced. The man wouldn’t tell you a damn thing, and if he didn’t tell you anything, then you couldn’t help him. Of course, it was your job to try and help him as best as you could, but you whole-heartedly believed he was guilty too, which didn’t help you keep the right mindset. Plus, your heart was pounding into your ears for more reasons than being across the table from a serial killer.

Focus, please, you begged yourself. And you did, for a while, but it became a futile effort. At one point you just wanted to say ‘fuck this shit, lock him up’ and leave, you were that desperate.

When it was all over and the station was getting everything together in order to transfer him to a holding facility, you tried to slip out the doors and wait outside. Only moments after, though, you heard the door squeak back open.

“(y/n),” Spencer started.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly interjected. You had been contemplating for the last day or so if you needed to apologize, and just figured you would, if not for your sake, for your clients’. I mean, they would probably end up testifying at some point, not like that was the main thought going through your mind, but you convinced yourself it was. “I shouldn’t have conducted myself like that earlier. It was unprofessional and you were just trying to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it,” he acknowledged.

“Probably, but that’s all in the past and I should have left it there,” you concluded. You both stood in absolute silence until it became too much to bear. You decided you’d at least try to act natural, “So how have things been since the last time I saw you?”

Spencer looked at you with surprised eyes, but answered with, “They’ve been interesting. There always seems to be a new case. How about you?”

“Same. Just one after the other, but it’s nice knowing I’m helping people,” you added.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Come on, what else can you throw out there? “Uh, so, they call you ‘doctor’ now?”

He offered a small laugh. “Yeah, they do. When I started, you know, I was much younger than anyone else in the bureau-”

“Still are,” you interjected.

He continued, “-true, but one of my mentors, who’s gone now, told people to call me that and I guess it just stuck.”

“Well, it sounds nice.”

“Thanks. I hear you are doing pretty well yourself, getting national mentions and such,” he stated.

You raised your eyebrows, “You heard about that?” A year or so back you got recognized as the top rising talent in your field of work, but you didn’t think that news would make it to the other coast. Unless he was specifically looking for that information…

“Yeah, I did. The FBI likes to keep tabs on people that might cause them the most trouble in a case, you being one of them.”

“Seriously?” You were astonished. The FBI was keeping tabs on you? “Why?”

“Just in case they get tired of opposing you and would rather work with you,” he shrugged, “But you seem to be having fun opposing right now.”

You let a smile reach the surface at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m a profiler. Plus, you’ve always had a thing for opposing the ‘overbearing’ power and sticking up for the little guy.”

That was a little too close to home. You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and you couldn’t help but think about that god-awful night when you were just two kids trying to take a walk in the moonlight. The night that solidified your friendship.

It happened so fast. All you did was walk away for a second to throw your trash away, but that was all it took for the boys to pounce. Spencer had been attending CalTech for three years, and you were there to pop into the chemistry class, which you conveniently had with Spencer. Those other 20 year olds hated you and Spencer for the sole reason that you were two nerdy 17 year olds that were making them look bad. They’d already gotten in a few good punches before you returned, but when you did, you were livid. They were holding Spencer up while taking turns at him. You worked quickly, setting your phone to record before stepping in between one of the boys and Spencer. You hadn’t intended on getting caught in the crossfire, but you did, landing yourself a pretty bruise on your cheek for the next two weeks. You yelled at them about how they were assaulting a minor and how you now had all of their faces on tape, along with some other legal shit. One of them smashed your phone and went for another punch, but you kicked him in the throat before he could get to you, putting him flat on his ass. He tapped out, and you later found out he’d gotten whiplash from how he landed on the ground. They ran off, and when you turned around, Spencer collapsed in your arms. He was littered with cuts, blood, and already developing bruises. You took him back to his dorm and cleaned him up, spending the night before figuring out how to recover the footage. Once you did, you showed it to the board members, effectively expelling the boys and bringing them up on charges for assault. They got convicted, and no one screwed with either of you again. That was the moment you really decided to become a lawyer.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you murmured. Brayden was brought out in cuffs and shoved into the back of a squad car, which was your cue to get moving. You had a full case on your hands.

You turned to leave, but as you did, Spencer stopped you. “Hey, would you maybe want to catch up later?”

You didn’t remember him ever being so bold before, and were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled out, “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just … coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” you said, and immediately saw Spencer’s shoulders relax. “Do you still remember where Arnette’s is?”

“Of course,” he responded. That used to be your favorite go-to spot.

“Alright then. I should be done with this at around eight,” you said, hopping into your car before he could respond. The officer with Brayden had already sped away, and you needed to stay close behind.

The whole drive you kicked yourself for saying yes. You were getting over him. You had gotten over him. And you loved Jordan and couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow betraying him. Plus, why should you be meeting him to catch up? He hadn’t been interested in that for five years! I mean, you put everything into making your relationship work. Sure, you were realistic that it wouldn’t last, but he could have at least tried.

You had it planned out. You would keep in touch until you could go out and visit him during the summer for Fourth of July during your sophomore year of college. The next year, he’d visit you, and the one after that, you’d visit him and so on. But that was the problem. There was no ‘so on.’ You visited him for the second time and that was it. And pretty soon, you could barely get him to pick up the damn phone. The last thing you heard from him was that he was pretty busy starting out with the BAU, along with an unanswered text wondering how his first case went.

But, you already agreed, so you might as well just see what happens.

You threw on some nice, non-work clothes and drove to the little shop on the corner. God you felt like a teenager.

It was just before eight and Spencer was already there waiting for you. Of course he was.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was supposed to be two people who used to care about each other, and honestly still do, just catching up. Simply talking. About the present, no need to worry about the past.

“Hey, (y/n).” You always liked the way he said your name with welcoming confidence.

“Hey,” you replied. He opened the door for you and you shuffled in. With no surprise, you were the only two in there, and he went ahead and ordered for both of you, remembering what you wanted with ease. You gave him a bit of a confused look as you waited for your drinks.

“What?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable by your staring.

“Nothing, it’s just that you remember my order, that’s all.”

“I do have a really good memory,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but you also told me once that that only went for visuals, and your eidetic memory didn’t really work on audio,” you quipped.

“That’s true. I guess some things just stick. Plus, it’s not like you made it hard on me. You always ordered the same thing.”

You laughed a little, “I guess that’s true.”

You grabbed your drinks and left the hole-in-the-wall, autopilot kicking in, taking you both along the path that went around the park. Spencer sighed.

“Hm?” you questioned.

“Just, you know, thinking,” he said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“How we used to do this all the time. You’d finish your high school classes, drive over to CalTech for chemistry, and then afterward we’d stop by for coffee and a walk,” his voice sounded like he was in a dream, and he looked into the night air as if there was some answer or memory floating around out there. You guessed there was a memory floating around out here.

“Yeah those were crazy years,” you recalled. “I felt like I was constantly on the move and everything was happening all at once and I had all of this stuff I needed to get done. But this was always a nice place where I could clear my head and forget all of that.” That feeling was starting to return as you kept walking, the sticky air of California clinging to your skin.

“It was nice. I miss those days sometimes,” he said.

What is he getting at? “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You walked in silence for a while, but you could see Spencer’s posture tense up more with each step. There was something on his mind and he wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he acted bewildered.

“What’s on your mind?” He tried to shrug it off and deny it, but you knew him better than that. It might have been a while, but some things, like he said, just stick. And the way his body acted when he was thinking was one of them. “Don’t even try that. I know when there is something bothering you, now out with it.”

“Who is it?” That was all he offered and it was your turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

“Who has the other one?” he said, voice a bit harsher than before, motioning to the gold ring around your finger.

“His name is Jordan.”

“Jordan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What does he do?” Spencer inquired.

“He’s also a lawyer. We actually met in law school,” you answered somewhat hesitant. You still didn’t know what he was getting at, if anything.

“Oh. Nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your attitude starting to flare up.

“Absolutely nothing. Just not what I thought,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What did you think?” You were trying not to get offended by whatever he was implying, but you couldn’t help it. He asks me to catch up just to make passive aggressive criticisms?

“I don’t know. Not that, I guess.”

At this point, you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Well, you know, you could have changed that,” you replied in the same passive aggressive manner.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” his voice was raising, obviously picking up on what you were putting down.

“Uh, I don’t know, how about respond to one goddamned text?”

“I tried.”

“Not really. And then you just went dark,” you spat.

“You seemed to be fine with that. You moved on pretty quickly,” he hissed, not even bothering to look at you.

“Why do you think that is, genius? I visited you, and then you stopped answering my calls. You stopped responding to my texts. I basically never heard from you again, and then the next thing I know, your showing up on my fucking tv, in California for a case, and you don’t even reach out. You didn’t even ask to meet up anywhere, not even stop by to say hey. Nothing. You did nothing once your job swallowed you up whole. I know what that’s like and it’s hard, believe me, I’m a lawyer for Chrissake, but I found the time. Plus, for all I knew, you had already found someone else, so I wasn’t going to wait around for the guy who seemed to love me much less than I loved him.” By the end, you were yelling, and thanking the stars above you that no one was around to hear it.

“You’re right,” he whispered after a while.

You were stunned, and could only manage a small, “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “I should have put in more effort. I don’t know, (y/n), I wish I had a better answer for you but I don’t. I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I let my insecurities get in the way of us, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“What?” It was seriously the only thing going through your mind, however, you were able to force out, “Insecurities?”

“Yeah. I was worried that because I was away, you were going to tire of me, that you weren’t going to want to stay in a relationship. I thought that maybe, by being ‘tied’ to me, so to speak, that I was holding you back, which we promised each other we would never do. We said that we would never get in the way of the other’s dream, and I wondered if maybe I was going to do that to you. I just … I had all of these doubts, so I panicked. I stopped responding. And I was so wrong to do that.”

Now that he’d said them, they sounded like some of the same doubts he expressed to you the night before he left.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven, which means I have to be there by six, which means I have to be leaving here by four-thirty at the latest,” he recited. He had all of his stuff piled by the door, which was hardly anything at all. You were in his hotel room because his house was soon to be taken over by a young couple, since he’d be living in Massachusetts, and his mother was in a mental facility. You’d just come back from visiting her, which left Spencer in tears.

You ate dinner while playing chess, which he effectively beat you at. You were actually pretty good at it, but no match for his math-based brain. You snuggled into bed next to him, willing yourself to keep it together because the last thing you wanted to do was spend your last night with him an emotional wreck. He queued up a movie, but neither of you paid any attention to it. His arm was draped around your shoulders and yours were clasped around his waist.

Spencer’s hand lazily circled your back until it moved with purpose down to your thigh. He continued his lazy patterns when you looked up at him, a question in your eyes.

You’d been with Spencer for over a year, and recalled your first time. You were ready before he was, which came as no surprise, but that didn’t stop the nerves from racing through your head. But if you thought you were nervous, you had no idea what was going through Spencer’s head. He later told you that he was absolutely terrified because he didn’t want to do something wrong, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to think less of him because of his body style, and a million other things that he was scared about. That’s how you accidentally said the ‘L’ word. “Spencer Reid, I would never judge you and you could never scare me away. I love you and your body and your brain, and you are not going to do something wrong, not like I’d know because we are both new to this and are doing it together. Understand?”

He gave you a shy smile. “I do.”

Now though, it was very different. Comfortable, confident, safe.

“Can I have you?” he asked, “All of you, one last time?”

You leaned up to kiss him, and he sighed when you pulled away. You looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m all yours.”

And you were. You felt like you always had been and probably always would be, and could only hope that he felt a fraction of the same. Your bodies pushed and pulled in perfect unison, fitting together as if you were two pieces of a puzzle, specifically crafted for the other.

You returned to your curled up position beside him, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears silently flowed out of your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself peel your arms away from him long enough to wipe them away. You attempted to sob without making a sound, knowing that if Spencer saw you crying, it would make him cry, and he couldn’t cry because it would make you cry more, splitting you right in half. It didn’t matter how quiet you were being about it, because when you looked up at Spencer, you saw the same silent tears glistening on his cheeks. It was only then that you pulled your hands from around him and brushed away his tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” you apologized. “This is supposed to be exciting. You’re going to the best school in the country to get your PhD.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, moving his hands up and down your arms, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decision.”

This took you by surprise. He’d always seemed confident about this, passionate about furthering his education. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to complicate things for anyone. For my mother. For you.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You knew it was unfair, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The only thing you wanted to say. You needed him, and it was sickening wondering if soon, he might not need you. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, so you quickly covered it up with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You are about to start a whole new part of your life, and you should go, pursue your dreams with the best education this country can offer. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

You repositioned yourself back on his chest, and started to drift off to sleep when you felt him sigh. You lazily peered up at him, meeting his restless eyes. “Spence, you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep on the plane. I need this more,” he said, smiling at you. You tried to stay awake like you knew Spencer would, but to no avail. You did, however, wake up to him getting ready to leave. He kissed you goodbye, and you held yourself together until he’d walked out, the door shutting with a definite ‘click.’

All the air had been stripped from your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you’d never again without him by your side. You cried yourself back to sleep, willing this all to be one giant nightmare, but when you woke, he was gone. And you felt completely numb. So while you may have been two pieces of a puzzle, aiming to create the same beautiful picture, you no longer fit together.

You felt yourself starting to get flushed from constantly going in and out of anger then feeling bad and forgiving. It was exhausting, and probably part of the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you. That didn’t mean you loved him any less, though. He was, in fact, your first love, and you guess people were right about that stuff being more powerful and affecting you longer. Hell, you walked into the precinct for a total of three seconds before he was affecting you all over again!

You took a deep breath in before saying, “I guess we both made mistakes and wished we would have handled things differently.”

“What would you have handled differently?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“When I saw that you were in California for a case, instead of … doing what I did, I should have been the one who reached out. I could have just asked you then what was going through your mind and what was going on between us. Who knows how that might have changed things? But, I was petty,” you gave a cold laugh, “I guess I still am sometimes, huh?”

You had definitely been acting that way lately. You felt guilty and ashamed about it, but in that moment of anger four years ago, knowing that Spencer was out there ignoring you, you sent him a hurtful message and then blocked his number. Only a week or so prior, you’d met Jordan who was clearly hitting on you, and you were so firm about moving on that you asked him out. He eagerly agreed, and the rest was history. Or, at least, you thought was history.

Spencer shrugged and dodged the somewhat rhetorical question. “We can’t really dwell on that now.”

You knew he didn’t really mean that, considering he was the type of person who dwelled, but he was right. You were engaged to a great guy and soon to be married. This, Spencer, was something you were just going to have to come to terms with, something you realized you hadn’t come to terms with yet.

You’d been walking so absentmindedly next to him that you hardly noticed you were outside of a hotel. He stopped just outside the lobby entrance and turned to face you.

“Walk you to your room?” you offered. What the fuck did you just say? Why did you say that? You can’t say things like that. Stop it.

Spencer gave you that small, closed lip smile of his which immediately ended your inner scolding, and nodded, holding the door open for you. You walked up the stairs together in silence. When you reached his door, instead of getting out his card, he leaned his back up against the heavy wood.

“Alright, well, it was nice catching up, and I wish you safe travels in the morning,” you said, turning to leave. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks, and you spun around to face him.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” Those words pierced through your ears, ringing all too familiar from when it was you who said them.

“Spence-” you started. And then his lips were on yours. Those sweet, soft lips. It had always been so natural between the two of you, and you felt his tongue bypass yours as you pushed further into the kiss. Then you remembered where, and when, you were, no longer that hopelessly devoted kid but an adult with a wonderful man waiting for you when you got home. You pulled away. “Spence-”

“I would have said yes, you know,” he confessed. The question must have been etched on your face, because he continued, “When you asked me that night, given the chance, I would have said yes.”

His words stung, and your whole body ached from rehashing old feelings, to igniting new ones, to the guilt of what just happened weighing on you so heavily you might just crumble beneath it. You murmured out, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you were right. I thought I was doing the right thing. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the regrets I have, you, (y/n) (y/l/n), are my biggest one.” His honey brown eyes peered right into yours, like he was looking at something far greater than just your eyes, and repeated, “So right now, if I asked you to stay with me, would you?”

It was too much to handle. After all the time you’d spent wishing he was still yours, he finally could be, but you could no longer be his. Tears were streaming down your face as they once did, the first time you lost him, and you choked out, “I can’t.”

One More Night

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

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@wooya1224

[clumsyclifford]

For the writers prompt! 16 with jalex please and thank you, I love your work!

damn yall are really obsessed with sleepy jalex huh? well i can’t blame you because i am too <3 thank YOU for sending this in i liked writing it

read on ao3

-

There's a tap at Alex's window. Alex ignores it. Sometimes branches sweep down over the house on particularly stormy nights, and sometimes there are birds, and there's always the possibility that he's imagined it.

The tap comes again. Alex sighs. He knows where the sound is coming from, and it's not like he'd been falling asleep to begin with, so maybe this will help in some way. 

Slowly he kicks away his covers, drags himself out of bed, and opens the window.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Jack whispers. "Did I wake you?"

"Not really." Alex shrugs. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway. What's up?"

Jack peers into Alex's room, which looks strange for how empty it is. So much of it is in suitcases or boxes, ready to be packed into the car tomorrow and driven off to college. The only thing in Alex's room that isn't quite ready to leave is Alex.

"You wanna sit out here with me?" Jack asks. He's on the roof, a place Alex's parents have repeatedly instructed them both not to climb on. Alex thinks Jack only really does this for the drama of breaking the rule, but he has to admit there is something unique about sitting on the rooftop. Especially doing so with Jack. 

"Yeah," Alex says, because why not. Sleep had been a failed venture, and Jack is a familiar presence. In the strangeness of Alex's room right now, he'll take all the familiarity he can get.

Jack shuffles away so that Alex can slide the window open wide enough to climb through, trying to tread as lightly as he can. It's not that he thinks the roof will cave under them, necessarily, but it's definitely an ever-present possibility of which Alex is hyper-aware. Four years ago, when Jack first climbed up the tree to the roof outside Alex's bedroom window and knocked like some Juliet-esque forbidden lover, they'd both been a lot smaller. As they've grown up — and gotten more freedom — they've taken up residence less and less on this roof.

It hasn't changed at all, though. Maybe it's a little leafier now. Alex brushes away some leaves and stretches his legs out in front of him, and at his left, Jack does the same.

"So I guess you couldn't sleep either?" Alex finally says.

Jack breathes a laugh. "Ya think?" He shrugs. "Yeah. I don't know. I've been excited to go to college this whole time, but now that we're going it feels like…"

"Yeah," Alex murmurs.

"Yeah. I don't think I'm scared, you know? But, I don't know, maybe. It's all just so weird."

"Yeah, who'd have thought we'd ever make it this far?" Alex deadpans. "I thought for sure we'd be high school dropouts."

"I seriously didn't think they would let me graduate," Jack says. 

"Nobody thought they would let you graduate. I'm still in shock."

"Just waiting for the call. 'Hello, Jack Bearcat?'" Alex laughs. Four years at their high school and somehow their principal had never managed to correctly pronounce Jack's last name. "'Yeah, we need to revoke your diploma. You actually don't get to graduate because you skipped so many classes and we hate you.'"

"It's too late," Alex giggles. "They already let you. No take-backsies."

"No take-backsies," Jack repeats, folding his hands together between his legs. "Yeah."

They fall silent, and for a moment Alex doesn't break it. 

Through the open window into his room, Alex can see a bare stretch of wall where there used to be a blink-182 poster. That poster is now folded up and hidden somewhere in the depths of one of the myriad boxes stacked upon Alex's floor. When he gets to college, he'll put it up in his dorm, and hopefully it'll feel more like home. But when he comes back for holidays and breaks, his room won't have the poster. The room where he grew up — really grew up, not from a baby to a boy but from a boy to a man, or whatever it is they’re calling him now — won't have Mark Hoppus, Tom DeLonge, and Travis Barker's judgmental gazes watching over it anymore, and neither will Alex as long as he's here. 

Packing for college is just deciding how much of home you want to take with you, and how much you want to leave to come back to in the summer. Alex still isn't sure if he's one of the things he wants to leave or take with.

"At least we'll be close," Alex finally says. His voice is a little rough, but it doesn't get better when he swallows. He clears his throat. "Right? An hour, that's not far."

"You won't be able to escape me," Jack says. "I'll be at your dorm every weekend, like it or not."

"I'm counting on it," says Alex. "I’m really gonna miss you, y’know?”

Jack exhales. “I’m really gonna miss you too.” He glances around them. “I’m really gonna miss this. I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t just walk five minutes and be at your house. Knock on your window. How am I supposed to be your annoying best friend if I can’t wake you up in the middle of the night and make you sit on the roof with me?”

“Hey, you’ll always be my annoying best friend,” Alex says, linking his left arm in Jack’s right. He leans his head carefully on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack slump down a bit so it’s more comfortable for both of them. “And I’ll sit on any roof with you. Time and place, I’ll be there.”

Jack hums. “But I don’t want to sit on any roof,” he mumbles. “I like this one.”

A dizzying feeling swoops through Alex’s stomach. He closes his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

They’re quiet again, and so is the world. It, like Alex, might be holding its breath, waiting for some kind of resolution, some happy ending to this moment. Where Jack and Alex realize that they would rather stay together no matter the cost, and one of them decides to transfer schools; some kind of sweeping rom-com finale that has the audience in tears. But Alex knows it won’t come. Life isn’t a romantic comedy. Life is just life, and they’re both forging paths. Setting down each stone right before they take the next step across it, maybe, but forging paths nonetheless. 

They’re not starkly different, but they’re not the same. As much as the two of them had dreamt of being together forever, pointing at adjacent unclaimed clusters of stars in the sky with bright, optimistic fifteen-year-old eyes and calling them the Jack and Alex constellations, Alex had never really thought they’d end up in the same place. 

That might be part of the magic, though. If Alex is searching for a silver lining, he can find one in this: however far apart he and Jack drift on the map, they’ll always come back to each other. It’s only an hour now, but Alex knows the way that life can grab you by the collar and whisk you away to another state, another country, another continent, how forcefully it can shake away all the strings you try to attach to yourself to keep you from being adrift in the world. He’d been too young after his first move; now he knows better. It’s not a string this time so much as an anchor, locked around Jack’s heart, braced against his rib cage, and Alex knows with almost unyielding certainty that wherever he goes, or wherever Jack goes, they’ll always find each other. 

“Hey,” Alex says, cracking the silence down the middle. “Can I give you something to bring to college?”

“Sure,” Jack says.

Alex pats his thigh. “Okay. Give me a minute to find it.”

He detaches himself from Jack and crawls back through the window into his bedroom. Compared to the breezy nighttime atmosphere, the house is eerily silent. Alex hurries over to the stack of boxes — thankfully he’d had the presence of mind not to seal them shut yet — and begins digging through the first one. He’s pretty sure it’s in this one. He’s pretty sure it’d been one of the last things he’d packed.

After emptying the box of almost all its contents, he hits jackpot. “Aha,” he mutters, carefully tugging it out from under a stack of notebooks. Ignoring the mess of stuff on his floor, he returns to the window and clambers back through it.

“What’s this?” Jack asks.

Alex unfolds the poster and holds it out for Jack to take. “You should take this to school.”

“Your blink poster?” Jack looks up from the poster and through the window, and Alex knows he’s picturing it fastened to the wall across from them. That poster has been up for almost the entire duration of their friendship. “Don’t you want this?” 

“No, I want you to have it,” Alex says. “If you want, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack says, glancing back down at the poster. “Man. The things this poster has seen. The things this poster will see. I hope these dudes can keep a secret.”

Alex knows what the poster has seen: the two of them, growing up in tandem, constantly pulled together by something akin to gravity, making a home not out of any room or rooftop but out of each other. 

If all Jack brings of Alex to his dorm is this poster, Alex thinks that’s enough. 

“I should probably go,” Jack says reluctantly, and panic seizes Alex, because however much he can kid himself that he’s ready to say goodbye, he’s never really going to be. They’ll be counting down the hours once it’s tomorrow, but until then they have forever. And Alex isn’t letting go.

“Please don’t,” he says quietly, looping his arm in Jack’s again and shifting closer to him. “Please just stay a little longer.”

Jack breathes out, leans his head on Alex’s shoulder, and nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to go anyway.”

The breeze ruffles Alex’s hair. He closes his eyes, cheek to the top of Jack’s head, and breathes as quietly as he can, like maybe if they’re still enough the world will mistake them for statues and they’ll never have to leave. Like breathing slowly will delay the inevitable. These things are impossible. Alex knows that.

But Jack makes a lot of things possible, and Alex isn’t willing to give up just yet.

[justpeachii]

Pairing: Sugawara Koushi x Female Reader 

Summary: After getting bored with your love life, you download one of those silly dating apps. However, things don’t go as planned, leaving you crying in your best friends arms.

Genre: College AU (Juniors), angst, comfort, platonic, mutual pining but both are dumb, kind of a cliche ending but :’)

Warnings: profanity and that is all.

Word Count: 3.2 K

Author’s Note: hello! This is my first fic here on the good ole tumblr and i hope you enjoy it! This was very much (sadly) based off of real life events and really just something i wanted to write to get my feelings out. i do suggest listening to the little playlist below while reading because not only were they what i listened to while writing, but also what got me through it (along with some great friends). Also uh… i didn’t expect this to be this long hehe YIKES. Anyways, enjoy! (also i’m SORRY TENDO he got the short end of the stick 😭 i’ll make it up i swear)

also tagging the lovely @noya-sannnn​ !! who inspired me to write this!!

Playlist

blame game (acoustic) by mxmtoon

Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

dream of you (acoustic) by mxmtoon

did it to myself by orla gartland 

ready now by dodie 

Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray

Late nights were always the worst. Between the endless torrent of thoughts or the overwhelming amount of homework, sleep was a luxury you could hardly afford. Afterall, juggling not only 18 credit hours of classes, a part-time job, and work projects for your major was not the norm, but for you, it was. 

Not only was sleep something you often overlooked, but love was as well. That is until one night you decided to download one of those silly dating apps on one of those late nights. After choosing a few of your best selfies and creating a fun little bio, you got to swiping.

Left. Left. Left. Pause. Scroll profile. Left. Pause. Scroll profile. Pause. Right.

It’s a Match!

After a moment of hesitation, you closed out of the message prompt, continuing to swipe and scroll before feeling the weight of sleep upon your eyelids. 

It had been two months since matching with Tendo Satori. Two months full of laughter, late nights at each other’s apartments, and confessions of love. Or at least what you thought was love. What started as a spark had grown to the size of a wildfire, burning inside your chest. A newfound love so strong it made your heart ascend to the highest of places.

However, what goes up must come down. 

While you would like to believe it was sudden, all the warning signs were there. Him growing distant, opening texts but not responding, cancelling plans last minute; the list goes on. The one thing that was sudden was the text you received before class.

Of course this would happen to you fifteen minutes before a two hour lecture. The last thing you would want to see: a paragraph of half-assed excuses followed up by “i just don’t think im ready for a relationship”.

You wanted to scream, throw your phone against the concrete, cause a scene, but you didn’t. As the tears began to flow, you scrolled on your phone for your most trusted friend, pressing on the call button next to their name. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Y/n? Don’t you have class soon? What’s going on?”

At this point, you were holding back sobs, voice coming out in a quiet whisper as you held the phone to your ear with a shaking hand.

“Suga… I have class in a few, but I- he-” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. What would you tell him after all? While you and Tendo had never put a label on it, it still felt like a break-up. 

“He? Y/n, are you okay?” There was a faint rustle on his end of the line, the sound of him putting his shoes on. “Can you take a few breaths for me? Take your time, I’m here when you’re ready to talk.” 

Doing as he said, you took a few snot-filled breaths before managing to get the tears to stop falling. While you did so, you found a spot outside the lecture hall, sitting beneath a tree and leaning your head against its trunk, letting your eyes close. 

“He ended it. Tendo… He texted me saying all this stuff of how he was sorry for pushing me away and that he wasn’t ready for a relationship.” You said in a firm voice. It was as if you were willing yourself to be strong for his sake, not wanting to worry him more than he was. 

There was a pause from Sugawara as he processed what you had just said. When he spoke, his tone was bitter, one you rarely heard.  

“That piece of shit. Over a text! He didn’t have the decency to call you or, hell, even set up a dinner or something!” He gave a sigh followed by a beat of silence. “I’m so sorry, Y/n… I know it is probably the dumbest question to ask, but are you okay?”

“Not really, but I have to be since I have class in,” you glanced at your watch, groaning, “six minutes. I don’t really want to go, I just want to go home, curl up in my blanket, and cry.”

While your heart was breaking over some boy you had known for a couple of months, Sugawara Koushi’s was breaking for you. Not only was he your closest friend since you transferred to the same university, he was also head-over-heels for you. When you mentioned to him the dates, he feigned happiness for your sake, supporting you through all of it. Now, hearing you in shambles on the other end of the phone made him want to run to you, pull you into an embrace, and give you the world.

Sadly, he couldn’t do what he wished. He knew your professor had a strict attendance policy, which meant that you would have to sit in class for two hours with a broken heart. Two hours for him to prepare as much of the world as he could. 

“I know this is one of the last things you want to hear right now, Y/n, but I know it will get better. If your professor didn’t have such a stick up his butt you would be able to skip without a problem.” As your friend spoke, the tears began to fall once more, your free hand coming up to swipe them away. 

“I know it won’t be for another two hours, but after your class, do you want to come over and we can have a movie night? We don’t have to talk about anything, just watch Tangled or Your Name.”

It took you a minute to find your voice once more, the ball of despair tight in your throat, leaving you to silently nod. Then you find your voice.

“I’d like that, Suga… I’d love it, in fact. I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight, but I also don’t want to bother you and I know-”

“You know you’re never a bother. Trust me, Y/n. After class, come over to my place. You can have my bed and I’ll take the couch.” His voice cut you off from finishing your thought, leaving your lips parted with an apology, a breath falling out in its place.

For the first time in the past nine minutes, you smiled. It wasn’t much, but Sugawara could hear it in your voice from the other side as you whispered, “Okay. Thank you, Suga. I love you, you know?” 

“I love you, too.” His own face was graced with a smile, though behind it he held all his emotions. How he wished to hear those words uttered in a non-platonic way. “Now get to class before you’re late! I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

While you were busy in class, both from note taking, group discussions, and trying your best to not break down any minute, Sugawara was busy in his own way. As soon as the phone call ended, he was out the door, making his way to the nearest convenience store, buying the essentials for healing a broken heart. Four pints of ice cream, a mix of his favorite flavors and yours, a couple bags of chips, some candy, and even a new stuffed teddy bear later, he was checking out, checking his phone constantly for the time, in case he had spent more time than he thought.

With his bags in hand, he made his way back to his apartment, getting everything set up for the movie night. While it wasn’t going to be a joyous occasion, he wanted it to have a happier atmosphere than what the topic of discussion would be. He placed the bags of chips and candy on the coffee table, the teddy bear placed between them; ice cream in the freezer for future consumption. Once the snacks were in place, he began to gather the softest blankets, grabbing your favorite along the way. 

Every time you would come over, no matter the temperature outside, he would find you curled up in it. One finals week while the two of you were cramming for an exam the next morning, he found you dozed off at the coffee table, the same fuzzy grey blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He even took a picture of you, asleep with your cheek in hand, other hand slack from writing notes that had since been abandoned. You still didn’t know about the picture to this day, but it was one he cherished. 

Time seemed to pass quickly as he finished getting everything together, not realizing the time until you knocked at his door. Answering it within seconds, he gave you a gentle smile, opening his arms for a hug he knew you desperately needed. That was all it took for the dam to break once more. As your arms wrapped around him, the tears fell in steady streams onto his t-shirt. 

His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back as he slowly shuffled backwards, pulling you two past the threshold, allowing him to close the door behind you. One hand rested on the back of your head, holding you close to his chest, the other in the middle of your back. The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours before you lifted your head, eyes red and puffy. Sugawara’s hand moved from the back of your head to hold your face, wiping away any remaining tears.

“Sorry for soaking your shirt.” you said with a small laugh, as you finally met his gaze. Warm, brown eyes full of nothing but comfort and safety met yours. There was a soft smile on his lips, while it was kind, it held a hint of sadness. 

“Don’t worry, I like my shirts soggy.” He said with a chuckle of his own. After making sure your face was dry of any tears, he nodded towards the living room. “Now come on, I have a little surprise for you!” 

After slipping your shoes off, you followed him into the living room, spotting the assortment of treats, along with the teddy bear. You swore you were done crying, but a few tears found their way out once more, but this time for a different reason. As you made your way to the coffee table, Sugawara disappeared to the kitchen, grabbing two pints of ice cream and spoons. When he reappeared, you were already curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, bear in your lap, and a few tears rolling down your face.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, Suga. A movie and talking would have been just fine,” you said as he sat down next to you handing off your chosen flavor and spoon. He scoffed at your remark, gesturing with his spoon.

“And just fine isn’t good enough! No one deserves to be broken up with through a text. Especially you, Y/n. Why, the next time I see him, he better watch his back.” He said, his glare pointed off to the side.

“There will be no fighting him, okay? Physical or verbally. What happened is… What happened. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming when I could have if I just looked.” You said, opening up the pint and taking a spoonful. With a small huff, he copied your motions, a beat of silence falling between the two of you. 

The lull in conversation lasted for a little while as neither knew what to say. You didn’t want to speak anymore on what had happened, but it was eating away at you. Sugawara could tell it was, so finally he spoke, clearing his throat before doing so.

“I’ll listen,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. The look you gave him was almost that of a puppy that had been scolded. Hurt. Sad. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything, okay?”

The two of you sat in silence for a minute more before he decided to put on a movie, filling the void. By the halfway point, the two of you had finished your pints, the cartons since abandoned on the coffee table. The other snacks are left untouched. Finally, you turn towards him and take a deep breath.

“I’m ready now.”

Those three words were all it took for him to pause the movie and shift to face you. For the next two hours, you spilled your emotions to him, both the highs and lows of the two month endeavor. At some point, he had pulled you into his arms and between his legs, his back against the arm of the couch with you on his chest. Your tears soaked his shirt once more as his hands ran up and down your back. Soon, you found yourself asleep in his embrace, exhausted from emotions.

Sugawara looked down at your finally peaceful face, cheeks stained from tears. Carefully, he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, closing his eyes as he silently prayed he would never see you like this again. 

After that night, you and Sugawara started to spend more time together. Not only for study nights, but weekly movie watch nights, daily lunch meet-ups, and impromptu ice cream runs. 

The three months leading up to finals left your old feelings to return, but somehow stronger. While you had gotten over Tendo rather quickly (and likewise with him. Not a week after your “break up” he was in a relationship with someone else) you didn’t want to admit your feelings for your best friend. At least that was the plan until a particularly late night study session that had you banging your head against a textbook that lay on the coffee table. 

“You know you can’t actually cram the information into your memory, right?” Sugawara said with a chuckle. You groaned in response, wadding up a piece of paper and throwing it at him. He batted it away swiftly, leaning on his elbows.

“I know that, but what I don’t know is how I’m expected to memorize all of these algorithms in order to pass!” You whined, giving up as you flopped onto your back, tugging the blanket that was around your shoulders closer. From his spot across the table, Sugawara continued to type away on his laptop, stifling a yawn. 

Laying there, you looked up at the ceiling, thinking back over the past few months. Your mind wandered back to that one terrible day and the lengths that Sugawara had gone through to make sure you were alright. It brought a smile to your face as you closed your eyes, giving a soft sigh. This caught the grey-haired boy’s attention, looking away from his work to see you with the dumbest grin on your face. He couldn’t help his own from pulling at his lips.

“What are you thinking about over there? Doesn’t seem like it’s math by the smile on your face.” 

“You.”

Caught off guard, he blinked a few times before responding. You, however, hadn’t realized what you had said just yet. While it wasn’t wrong, it was very bold.

“Me? What about me?” He asked, his curiosity overpowering his nerves for the time being.

“How you surprised me that one night. Ice cream, snacks, a teddy bear… Your smile, how much you always seem to make me laugh, you good of a hugger you are… How much I think I love you.” As you listed things off, you grew quieter and quieter, your voice a whisper by the end. 

Sugawara’s heart felt like it had just gotten done running sprints after losing a match back in high school. He felt his cheeks flush as he shifted to better look over the table at you. Never had you said you loved him outside of a friendly manner and here you were, on his living room floor confessing your love for him. 

“You think… You love me, Y/n?” The breath that he had been holding exhaled in a sigh afterwards, only to be replaced with another as he waited for you to respond. 

It was then that you realized what you had said. Immediately, you felt your cheeks flush as you sat up with wide eyes, abandoning the blanket on the floor. Looking like a deer in the headlights, you searched his face for a sign of anything. What you found were cheeks as red as your own, a hint of excitement behind his eyes, and a semi-confused look plastered on his face. You felt it was as good a time as any to get it off the table. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“I do, Suga. And I have since the first semester of sophomore year and I never told you because I didn’t think you felt the same way or that things would get a little awkward between the two of us. I tried to just push the feelings away or ignore them, hoping they would go away, but they didn’t and I was too dumb to say anything.”

In the silence that followed, you prepared yourself for the worst. However, the worst didn’t come. Instead, a small string of laughter fell from his lips as the corners of his eyes crinkled, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

“Then we are both dumb, Y/n! I did all of those things for you that night because not only are you my best friend, but I truly do love you. It hurt seeing you like that and I knew I couldn’t tell you how I felt because it wasn’t right.” 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you moved back to the coffee table, placing your elbows on it before laying your hands flat on the surface. Soon, his hands found yours, thumb brushing against the back of your hands. With a small laugh, you gave a small shrug.

With a breathy laugh, you responded, “Even so, why didn’t either of us say something sooner! Then we would have avoided all of that to begin with.” 

Sugawara just shook his head, giving your hands a tight squeeze. “True, but that was the past. Where we are now is where we were meant to be. Like I told you, it got better.”

“It did, and it was all because of you.” Turning your hands over in his, you gave them a gentle squeeze, to which he returned.

“I love you, Y/n”

“I love you, too, Suga.”

[rami-hoe]

Confessions Part 6

Pairing: Josh x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: smut, swearing 

Josh had ended up deferring his acceptance to the film program so he could take his first year at home. It was a good deal- he was taking a full time psychology program, so when he transferred, he would have almost all of the electives he needed, and he could take some film courses on the side to get familiar with the subject. The best thing about it by far was that it gave us another year before he moved out of state. 

To be honest, I felt like one of those over dramatic teenagers who treat their boyfriends going to class like he was going off to war. I missed Josh like crazy. I was starting to feel a little co-dependent. I guess I was just spoiled; I’d spent our entire relationship seeing him pretty much every day. We spent at least six hours a day in the same building, stealing kisses in between classes, having lunch together, driving there and back in his car. I just wasn’t used to having to make actual plans to spend time with him. But since he was at the university most of the time, and I was working almost full time, I had to text my boyfriend in order to see him. It was horrible, really. 

I had been a little worried about Josh going off to college. I’d heard a lot of relationships didn’t make it through the transition. People changed, they grew apart, and before you knew it you were looking at an entirely different person, not the one you’d fallen in love with. But Josh was finishing up his first semester, and we were still going strong. He was changing, there was no doubt about that.  He was going to more than his fair share of parties, of course, but he was really taking the whole student thing seriously, becoming a responsible, self-motivating student. My goofball was turning into a goofman. But in all the ways it mattered, he was still my Josh: warm and loving, and so much fun to be with. I got the distinct impression his classmates had that same opinion, especially the female ones. I’d seen more than a few of them shooting some serious daggers my way when he took me to parties or just to hang out on campus. 

Josh was used to having plenty of women interested in him, and I’d gotten used to it as well. As far as I was concerned, they could look all they wanted- but I was the only one who got to touch. Josh made sure I knew he only had eyes for me. As nice as it was that he wanted me to feel secure, it felt pretty great to know I didn’t need the reassurance. It used to bother me when I saw other girls looking at Josh. I would ask myself if they were prettier than me, smarter than me, if they would put out for him. I would question whether or not I even deserved to be with a guy like Josh. But the first time we were sitting in the dorms with his college buddies and a woman with a short skirt and full lips walked past with a wink and a smile for Josh, I just felt… nothing. It was fine. I mean, I felt kind of bad for her. She was flirting with a guy who had his arm around someone else- she must not have much else going for her. There was no reason for me to be insecure because some girl thought Josh was hot and decided him being friendly meant he was into her. 

That was how I decided I was ready to have sex with Josh. You have no idea how good it felt to realize I was past that place of petty, immature jealousy. I was completely comfortable in our relationship. I loved him, I trusted him, and I couldn’t remember the last time I doubted if he felt the same. Maybe it was because we weren’t seeing each other as much- if we didn’t have faith in each other, our relationship would have imploded by now. However it happened, I was grateful for it, and I was ready to take the next step with him. 

I decided I was ready just as Josh was going into exam season- not stellar timing on my part. I didn’t want to distract him. I’d waited this long, a few more weeks wouldn’t kill me. Or so I thought. I didn’t know exactly what it was- it was like some kind of switch went off in my brain the moment I decided I wanted to have sex. Ever since then, everything Josh did was just so… hot. Not that he wasn’t hot before, but now I was getting turned on watching him eat chips by the handful. I found myself making full use of my graduation present. Josh liked to help out when I used it, but I got the feeling having him in the room would only make the problem worse. I was having a hard enough time not telling him to fuck me when we made out; I didn’t think I’d be able to stop myself if he was holding a vibrator to my clit. He always got hard when he did it… I could never do justice to how incredibly sexy it was to have Josh beside him, his hard on pressed into my thigh, while he worked the toy between my legs. 

Josh’s exams all fell in the first three weeks of the period, and they were the hardest three weeks of my life. Every time I went over to his place, he would be hunched over his desk, going over his notes. He was so damn sexy when he was concentrating. I just wanted to straddle his lap and beg him to take me right there on the desk. Josh definitely noticed something was up, but he didn’t push it further when I denied it; his exams were keeping him preoccupied. 

His last exam was scheduled for 9:00am this morning. I’d spent the last three hours waiting for him to call me to let me know he was finished. We had plans to go out for a celebratory lunch at Dairy Queen. Ice cream seemed like a bit of an odd choice, considering it was December, but it was Josh’s first pick. I’d seen how hard he’d been working the whole semester; he’d more than earned whatever lunch he wanted. 

My phone rang just before noon, and I picked it up embarrassingly fast. Or it would have been embarrassing if I had any problem with Josh knowing I’d been waiting by the phone all morning. 

“Hey! How’d it go?” I asked. 

“Pretty good! At least, I think so. I feel okay about it.”

“You’ve been studying all week,” I said. “I’m sure you did great.” I’d seen all the work he put into this. I couldn’t imagine that work would go unrewarded. 

“I dunno,” he said with a sigh.  “I’m just a little worried. Think I’m gonna go crazy waiting for the results.” 

I chewed my bottom lip. “You know… I think- it’s just, I have something to tell you… I think it might help your mind off things.” 

“What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you at lunch,” I said. This was really a face to face conversation. “Pick me up?” 

“I’ll be there in ten.”

*

Dairy Queen wasn’t as empty as I’d hoped it would be. Surprisingly, people craving terrible burgers and ice cream in the winter wasn’t that uncommon. Josh had been a bundle of nerves since he came to pick me up, no matter how much I tried to reassure him. It was getting me a little anxious too, to be honest. Josh wasn’t usually the worrying type. 

We ordered our food and found a table near the bay window. “Relax, babe,” I said, reaching over the table to take his hand. “It’s done, it’s out of the way; obsessing about it now isn’t gonna make it any better.” 

Josh sighed. “It just sucks… I know I could’ve done better if I had another hour,” he said. 

“Did you study?” 

“What?” Josh’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, you helped me.” 

“Did you answer all the questions?” 

“Yes, but-” 

“Then you did the best you could,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I quizzed you myself- you knew your shit.” 

“Being quizzed by my girlfriend in my room is different than taking an exam in a fucking lecture hall,” he said. “I know I left shit out.” 

“You can afford to leave a couple things out,” I said. “That doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail.” 

Josh groaned. “Why couldn’t it be a fucking scantron? Those take like two seconds to grade.” He sank down in his seat so he could lean his head against the chair back- no easy feat for a guy his size. His legs ended up on my side of the table. “This is fucking killing me. What did you wanna tell me? I could seriously use a distraction right now.” 

And just like that, all of Josh’s nerves slammed themselves right into my stomach. “Right… Uh, well-” 

“Here ya go!” A waitress who seemed far too perky for a fast food place put out food on the table. “Two mushroom swiss burgers, fries, and a chicken strip basket. Enjoy your meal!” She scampered back to the kitchen as Josh unwrapped the first of his burgers. The parchment was already covered in sauce, and my nose crinkled at the sight. Josh just laughed. 

“It’s better than it looks,” he said. 

“You say that every time.” 

“And it’s true every time.” He grinned. “If you’d give it a try, I think you’d like it.” 

I shook my head. “Chicken strips seem like a safer bet.” Why was this so easy? This completely unplanned conversation was effortless, but when I turned my attention back to the speech I’d spent the last month planning, I was tongue tied. 

Josh cocked his head to the side as he brought his milkshake to his lips. “You okay?” 

I managed a smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” I said. It was a struggle not to stare down at the basket, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t come across as a mature adult ready for sex if I couldn’t even meet his eye. I cleared my throat and took a breath. “I’ve been thinking-” Christ, my heart is pounding right now- “We’ve been dating for a long time-” My palms are sweaty. Is the rest of me sweaty? Can he see it?- “And I just feel so comfortable and safe with you now-” What if he doesn’t want to? Why the fuck would he not want to, idiot? You were dry humping last week- “I think we’re in a really strong place-” Does everybody get this nauseous when asking someone to take their virginity?- “And I’m ready. To, uh… to have sex. With you.” 

Josh was silent for way too long. It was probably only a couple of seconds, really, but it felt like fucking hours. I was trapped in Schrodinger’s box, simultaneously existing in a state of excitement and terror before Josh responded. 

He slowly put the milkshake back on the table. “Wow,” he said. Well. At least it was a word. That was better than complete silence. I resisted the urge to cry out my relief when he smiled. “I mean, I kinda figured we were going in that direction,” he said. “But still, that’s… big. Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I said. “Or anyone. I know it’s taken me a while to get here, but I’m ready. I love you, and I trust you, and I’m so fucking horny, Josh; every time I look at you my vagina hits me with a rolled up newspaper and demands to know why I haven’t fucked you yet.” 

Josh laughed. “That’s an… interesting description. But I think it was a compliment, so thanks for that.” 

“It’s an accurate description,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth. “I don’t know how I lasted this long. I’ve never been this frustrated in my life.” 

He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. That shouldn’t be turning me on as much as it was but that’s where we were now. “So, we gonna get a nice hotel? Cover the bed in rose petals, get a bottle of fancy champagne and chocolate covered strawberries?” 

“We could do that,” I said. “Or we could go back to your place and do it before your sisters get home.” 

Josh chuckled. “That doesn’t sound very romantic,” he said. 

“Yeah, but it means we get to have sex, like, now.”

“Don’t we have to talk about it first?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “We talk about it like every time we fool around,” I said. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what to expect.”

“I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, you know? Losing your virginity is a major thing.” 

“It is,” I said. “But I took my time. I waited for the right person, I waited until I was ready, I waited until your exams were over.” I reached over and ran my hand up his forearm. “I’m done with waiting. I don’t need it to be some big romantic thing. It’ll be perfect, as long as it’s with you” 

*

After the big confession, it didn’t take either of us very long to finish our meals. It was safe to say we were both pretty eager to get back to his place. Beth and Hannah usually got home around 4:00 and we wanted as much time to ourselves as possible. 

We got to the house and made a beeline for Josh’s room. My hand hadn’t left his since we got out of the car. The butterflies in my stomach refused to leave, but I didn’t mind so much anymore. They were kind of fueling my excitement. 

Josh’s lips were on mine the second we stepped into his bedroom. By the time he kicked the door closed, his hands had firmly planted themselves on my ass. I tangled my fingers in his hair as we stumbled towards the bed. We lost our shoes and jackets on the journey there. 

We fell onto the bed and Josh maneuvered his way on top of me. I instinctively spread my legs and let him settle between them. I could feel his growing bulge against my core as his lips trailed down my neck. I ran my nails down his back, gripped the soft fabric of his t-shirt and tugged on it. Josh pulled away long enough to yank it off and toss it to the floor. His lips reattached themselves to my skin, this time my collarbone. He sucked light bruises onto the sensitive flesh and I hummed my appreciation. 

“Josh~” I moaned as he slid his hands up my shirt. I lifted my back off the bed and he undid my bra. His hands moved back around to my chest and palmed my breasts. His thumb rolled over my nipple and I arched my back onto his touch. 

I pushed him back and sat up so I could pull my shirt over my head. Josh looked like a starving man staring at a turkey dinner. His pupils were blown bigger than I’d ever seen them, and I was sure I looked just as desperate. 

His lips were beyond excited to explore the newly exposed skin. He took his time, making sure to give each boob the proper treatment, dividing the efforts of his hands and his mouth evenly. 

I felt my stomach flip when he started moving further down. He kissed along the waist of my pants, pausing to suck on each hip bone. He looked up at me with dark, devilish eyes.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he said as tugged the fabric down my legs. I kicked the pants off and leaned down to tug off my socks. My heart pounded as he spread my legs and laid down between them. He dragged his tongue over my panties, keeping eye contact as he did. I bit my lip and gripped the sheets in anticipation of what was about to happen. Josh grinned as he pulled my panties to the side. “Now, I know my tongue isn’t a Satisfyer, but I think you’re really gonna enjoy this.” 

My laugh turned into a gasp as his tongue delved between my folds. He spread my lips with his fingers and pressed his tongue into my entrance. We’d done our fair share of fooling around, but he’d never used his tongue before, just his fingers and the toy. As his tongue moved inside of me, his nose pressed against my clit. My hips bucked into his face, and he pressed one hand on my stomach to hold me still while he worked. His tongue slipped out of me and was quickly replaced by his middle finger as he licked up to my clit. 

I cried out when he curled his finger to hit my g-spot. His lips wrapped around my clit and he sucked on the sensitive bud. My hands flew to his head and gripped his hair. He slipped a second finger in as he swirled his tongue around my clit. There was just a little bit of burning as he added a third finger, but that was as far as the discomfort went. The pleasure of him massaging my walls as his tongue worked my clit far outweighed the pain. 

It was hard to believe it had been so long since Josh did this. Obviously he’d been keeping his skills sharp. I’d never been touched like this before- I didn’t even know what I needed, but Josh didn’t need any instruction. He kept going, three fingers fucking me while his mouth licked and sucked, until my back bent and I felt my soul leave my body. My fingers tightened in his hair; it had to be hurting him, but he didn’t let up. He refused to stop until I moved my palm to his forehead and pushed him away. 

Josh grinned and dipped his head down to kiss my stomach. “How was that?” he murmured. 

It took me a minute to register the question at all, then another minute to convince my mouth to move. “That was… that was fucking incredible.” I chuckled. My head was in the clouds as I fought to push off the post-orgasm bliss long enough to get my body working against. 

I pushed Josh off of me and very shakily crawled over to him. My hand drifted over to the bulge in his pants, which was now a full on tent. I ground my palm into his groin and Josh let out a low groan. I swear to god, that was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I pulled his jeans and his boxers down, and his erection leapt out at me. I must have seen him hard at least a dozen times by now, but there was something different about it now that I knew it would be inside of me soon. 

I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked his hot shaft. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said with a grin. “I’m pretty much ready to go over here.” 

“I know,” I said as I leaned down and licked his head. “I just wanna make you feel good.” I’d only sucked him off a couple of times, but I loved doing it. I was sure I wasn’t the best at it, but Josh was just so reactive. I loved feeling him squirm and hearing his groans as I took him into my mouth. The way he looked down at me with his mouth hanging open and his eyes clouded with pleasure… shit, even the thought of it sent shivers down my spine. I closed my lips around his tip and started bobbing my head, taking him just a little deeper with each movement. I still couldn’t take all of him without gagging, but I’d worked my way up to a little more than half. Josh pulled my hair into a ponytail to guide my mouth along his shaft. 

“God, I fucking love your mouth,” he groaned. 

I pulled back, stroking his cock leisurely as I said “I hope you love the rest of me too.” 

“You know I do,” he said. “But at the moment, your mouth’s the part of you I’m most focused on.” 

I sat up. “Really?” I asked. “There’s no part of me you might want just a little more?” I straddled his hips and ground my core against his cock. “Nothing at all?” 

Josh’s eyes rolled back as my wetness coated his shaft. His hand flew over to the bedside table, opened it, and groped around until he found the box of condoms. My hips continued to rock as he snatched one of the packets out of the box. They only stilled when Josh paused to scrutinize the back of the packet. 

“Did you forget how to put them on?” I asked, only half joking. 

Josh chuckled. “Just checking through expiry,” he said. “I’ve had these since we started dating.” He lifted the plastic square up triumphantly. “Still good!” 

“Woulda really sucked if it wasn’t,” I mused as he opened the packet and slid the condom onto his hard cock. “I mean, just imagine it. We’re here, I’m all ready to lose my virginity, and we get cockblocked by an expired condom.” 

“You know, as arousing as this conversation is-“ 

“Down to business, right.” I looked down at his covered cock and swallowed. This was it. I raised my hips up and positioned myself over his member. 

Josh grabbed my hips before I lowered myself down. “I just gotta ask one more time- are you sure about this?” 

I moved my hands up his forearms and nodded. “I am.” I kept my eyes locked on his as I sank onto his cock. His eyes widened and he let out a soft moan as my walls closed around him. I sucked in a breath at the feeling of him filling me completely. It was… different than I expected. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Not actual pain, at least, but there was this weird pressure right at my entrance. It was strange. I’d never been this full before. 

I was so wrapped up in the sensation, I didn’t realize it’d been a full minute since I moved until Josh squeezed my hip and asked “you okay?” 

I adjusted my position and let out an entirely involuntary noise as I felt him move inside of me. “Jesus…” I took a breath. “I’m good,” I said. “It just… takes some getting used to.” 

“Take your time,” he said, his fingers caressing my waist. 

I rested my hands on his stomach. “Am I supposed to, like, bounce or grind or what?” I asked with a breathy chuckle. Maybe I wasn’t as well prepared as I thought I was. 

“Just do whatever makes you feel good,” he said. 

I lifted my hips until just his tip remained inside of me, then sank back down on him. That was… interesting. There was a spark of pleasure. Nowhere near as big as when he was going down on me, but it was there, and it was helping me forget about the pain. I braced myself on my hands as I started to ride him. Josh’s head fell back onto the pillow and he moaned. That sound made whatever discomfort this caused more than worth it. Josh’s tip just brushed against my g-spot and I gasped. I pushed my hips forward, simultaneously pushing his cock against that sweet spot and grinding my clit against his groin. I repeated the motion and moaned “fuck, Josh~” 

“You’re so fucking tight, babe,” he groaned. “I don’t- shit- I’m not gonna last very long.” 

“That’s fine,” I mumbled. “Want you to come.” He’d already made me feel so good- I just wanted to return the favour. I’d made him wait our entire relationship to get to this; I wasn’t about to ask him to hold off his orgasm too. 

I moved my hands to either side of his shoulders and leaned over him. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer to him as my hips continued to roll. He leaned up to close the rest of the distance between us and captured my lips in a heated kiss. His hands clenched into tight fists and his hips bucked up into mine. He buried his cock fully inside of me and moaned against my lips. I broke the kiss so I could watch his expression melt into pure bliss as he came into the condom. 

Josh collapsed back onto the bed and I lowered myself onto his chest. We were both sweaty, sticky, and hot, but I didn’t give a second thought to rolling off of him and cooling down. He rubbed my back as his cock softened and slipped out of my body. 

“So…” Josh brushed my damp hair away from my face. “How do you feel?” 

I buried my face against his neck to hide my smile. “I’m, uh, I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

“No regret?” Josh teased. “Not feeling like a part of you is missing? Like you’ve been forever changed?” 

“I think you’re overestimating the power of your dick,” I said. 

Josh gasped and clutched his chest. “I’m hurt,” he said. 

I laughed and nuzzled into him. “I bet I can find a way to make it up to you,” I said. 

“Mmm~” He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sure you can,” he murmured. “What time is it?” 

I glanced over at the clock. “Two,” I said. “We’ve got time.” 

“Good,” he said. “Don’t wanna move.” That was fine by me. I didn’t feel like getting dressed right away. I wanted to stay here with him as long as we could. Just like this, skin to skin. 

“Josh?” I asked 

“Mhm?” 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” he asked. 

“For everything,” I said. “For being so patient with me right from the start.” 

“I was just trying to be the kind of guy who deserves you; you don’t have to thank me-“ 

“No, I do.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows so I could look down at him. “You were amazing,” I said. “You are amazing. I couldn’t ask for a better guy. I wouldn’t have wanted this to happen with anyone else.” I ran my finger down his cheek. “I’m just… I’m so happy I’m with you.” 

Josh leaned up for a soft kiss. “Since we got together, all I’ve wanted to do is make you happy,” he whispered. “You mean the fucking world to me, Y/N. And I’m glad we waited. This was the right way to do this.” 

I rested my forehead against his. “I love you. So goddamn much.” 

“I love you too,” he replied. That big, goofy smile I loved so much painted on his face. “And I always will.” 

[jaehyunhour]

the breakfast club | seven

art student!reader x art student!jaehyun college AU 

summary: in which you have to write a short film for one of your classes and somehow end up falling in love.

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

1526 words (finally the yn and jaehyun content we all needed).

yn arrives at doyoung and jungwoo’s home approximately 15 minutes after she sends her last text to them. she raises her hand to knock on their door, and in that moment jaehyun opens the door.

“yn!” he says, surprised.

“oh, hi, jaehyun. good to see you again! are doyoung and jungwoo here? they invited me out with you guys tonight.”

“yeah they’re just inside getting ready, go on ahead and make yourself comfortable i’m just going to go get the mail,” jaehyun says, letting yn into the house and walking past her to the mailbox.

inside, yn decides to sit on the couch while waiting for doyoung and jungwoo to finish getting ready. moments later, johnny comes downstairs and is surprised to see yn on the couch. he waves hi at her and mumbles a “hope you’re doing well,” while grabbing his shoes and going back upstairs to his room. jaehyun comes back inside, dropping the mail on the dining room table, and sitting on the couch across from yn.

“so how do you like seoul art academy?” yn asks. “jungwoo told me you just transferred.”

“it’s great so far! i went to another art school in japan up until now, but johnny is my best friend and somehow convinced me to transfer to seoul. i gotta say, it’s nice being home.”

“ah i bet it is! i’m jealous you got to go to japan, i’ve always wanted to visit but have never managed to get around to it.”

“if you ever decide to go, let me know. i still have an apartment there so i could house you and show you around, if you want,” jaehyun suggests.

yn smiles at him, “that sounds great! wow, thank you, jaehyun. that’s very nice of you.”

before jaehyun gets a chance to say anything more to her, doyoung, jungwoo, and johnny finally emerge from upstairs.

“let’s goooooooooo,” jungwoo cheers.

***

3 plates of tteokbokki, 4 plates of mandu, 7 bottles of soju, and countless pieces of kimbap later, everyone is sufficiently fed and significantly drunk. jungwoo has been trying to tell the same story for about 10 minutes, and continues getting distracted by johnny laughing at absolutely nothing. doyoung keeps looking back at the menu debating if he wants to order more food for everyone. yn is sitting next to jaehyun and she’s telling him all about her weekend trip to busan. jaehyun, by far, is the least drunk of the group. he’s never really liked to get shit-faced drunk, but he does like to have fun every once in a while. but right now, in this moment, what he likes is yn. maybe he’s a little more drunk than he normally gets, or maybe she really just is that beautiful, but he can’t help but be enchanted when she locks eyes with him.

“i-i i’m so sorry,” yn says, between hiccups. “i’ve just been going on and on, that must be annoying.”

jaehyun lets out a giggle. “no, it’s okay, i really don’t mind. keep talking.”

“okay,” she responds, smiling at him. she continues telling him stories about her friends and jaehyun really wishes he could focus. whenever she giggles in the middle of a sentence, he feels his face heat up but he blames it on the alcohol slowly creeping up on him. a strand of her hair falls in front of her face, and before she can reach up to fix it, jaehyun’s hand shoots up and tucks it behind her ear.

“o-oh. thank you, jaehyun.” yn blushes. he smiles at her, feeling his face heat up again. yn and jaehyun both subconsciously begin to lean into each other, but are interrupted at the sound of johnny bent over the side of the street dry heaving.

“aw fuck,” jaehyun says, standing up and going to his aid. “alright guys, night over.”

“y-yeah, i should probably go home. i can leave from here,” yn says.

“are you crazy? come back to ours, you can sleep on the couch if you’d like and we’ll take you home before class so you can wash up.” doyoung says, reaching out for yn’s hand to help her stand up. “i’ll call a car.”

***

“here you go, yn,” doyoung says, handing her a few articles of clothing. “my ex-girlfriend left these here a long time ago, i’m not sure how well they’ll fit but i’m sure it’ll be more comfortable than what you’re wearing now.”

“heeeey, thank you, doyoung,” yn says, still very drunk. everyone else has begun sobering up, but it’s always taken yn a little longer to feel okay again. she takes the clothes from him, “sorry about your ex, tell me about it some day when i’ll remember.”

doyoung laughs, “you got it, yn. you can go change in the bathroom.”

yn goes into the bathroom, changes quickly, and goes back out into the living room to sleep. while she was in the bathroom, someone set a pillow and blanket out on the couch for her. she’s about to lay down and get comfortable when she hears a voice behind her, startling her.

“i put out the blanket and stuff for you,” jaehyun says, walking up to her with a glass of water and some aspirin. “i’m going to leave this on the coffee table for you, for you when you wake up.” he sets everything down.

“jaehyun,” yn whispers. “come here.”

he steps closer to her, confused, and she grabs him by his shirt and pulls him close to her. she tentatively wraps her arms around his torso, nuzzling her head into his chest. he hesitates for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her and putting one hand on her head, petting her hair.

“thanks for taking care of me tonight,” she says, muffled by his shirt.

“i hardly did anything.”

“you’re nice, jaehyun.” yn pulls back and looks at him.

“thank y—“ jaehyun is interrupted by yn pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“goodnight,” she whispers, laying down on the couch and falling asleep before jaehyun can even kiss back.

***

yn wakes up the next morning to the sound of johnny throwing up in the kitchen sink. she groans at the sound, feeling her head pounding and her stomach swirling.

“johnnnnyyyyy,” she whines, rolling over on the couch. when she opens her eyes, she sees water and aspirin on the coffee table, and whether or not it was for her she’s unsure about but she takes it anyway. she sits up, immediately reaching her hands to her throbbing head.

“is doyoung awake?” she asks. johnny is hunched over the kitchen sink, and nods at her question. after yn changes in the bathroom into her clothes from last night, she goes to doyoung’s room and knocks lightly on the door.

***

although yn went home that morning, ate, showered, and put herself together, she still felt miserable the entire day. she felt gross from all the alcohol she had the night before, her head was pounding, and she could barely remember anything that happened last night. the last thing she very clearly remembers is ordering the fourth bottle of soju. thankfully, she doesn’t have work today so immediately after school she comes back home to lay in bed. however, her after-school nap is interrupted by a knock on the door. when she opens the door, she’s surprised at who is standing behind it.

“jaehyun! what are you doing here?” she questions.

“you, uh, left your phone charger at our house last night. i figured you need it, so i brought it back to you.”

“oh! thank you, come on in. do you want a snack or something? i was just about to nap.”

“i’m okay, thank you. i’ll leave soon then, so you can rest.. how are you feeling?”

“terrible. i’m reminded why i don’t like drinking, and i probably won’t be doing it any time soon. i can barely remember anything from last night,” yn says.

“really? that sucks… i don’t really like drinking either. so, you don’t remember anything from last night?”

“nope,” she says. “the last thing i remember is ordering the fourth bottle of soju. i black out pretty easily.”

before jaehyun can respond, they hear the doors unlocking and someone walking in.

“yn, i came to— oh,” wendy says, noticing yn is in the living room. “jaehyun?” wendy questions.

“wendy?” he says in the same tone.

“you guys know each other?” yn chimes in.

“i could say the same to you, bub… jaehyun and i grew up together. after i left canada and moved here, my dad became best friends with jaehyun’s dad. yn, you know this, i told you about jaehyun a few times before.”

yn thinks, and then suddenly remembers how wendy felt about jaehyun while they were growing up. “oh! yeah, oh my god, you did tell me. wow, that’s crazy.”

“small world,” jaehyun says, nervously laughing and standing up off the couch. “yn, i’m gonna head out i have to go home and work on some homework, i hope you feel better.”

“thanks, jaehyun,” yn says, watching the door close behind him.

previous | next || au masterlist

[jackbabewang]

At first sight...

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader Genre: College au, Fluff, That library crush theme Word Count: 2,554

It can be hard to seduce someone in total silence.

Final exams are approaching, so now you are spending a great deal of time in one corner of your room at a clustered study desk, constantly reviewing notes, and grumbling. There are just too many distractions to interrupt you at the dormitory. The residents above are deliberately harassing you by stomping on the floor, classical music blasted from the room next to yours making your unit feel like some strange musical theater of the absurd and then there is your bed. So so inviting. You have enough points going into the exams to pass easily, but the pressure has not lifted because you are keen to scoring the highest possible marks. Well, that is just you being you. To pry yourself away from disturbance, the university’s library seems to be the ideal place for better concentration. And so, your routine begins.

Day 1

Unknowingly excited. Your nerdy self got a seating in a booth that offers the most privacy. Though the library is crowded with students studying frantically, it is still quiet. Your body sinking into the cushioned padding, laptop opened, bookmarks orphaned on tables, highlighters and pens began their labour. 

Day 3

Still going strong. Probably. You need some fresh air and a break from your studies. After a couple of hours sitting hunched over books, you are worried that you can even try out for the role of a hunchback. You decide to take a walk outside on the campus park. You miss warmth, the heat of the sun on your skin, needing the light for some kind of photosynthesis.  

By the time you return to the library, there sits a paper cup on top of your table with a square note beside it written, ‘Hey little fighter, soon things will be brighter!’ There is no name, no initial that gives away the identity of the alleged person who left it there. A small smiled etches on your lips as you reach for the source of warmth, the tip of your fingers have turned icy cold the second after you walked in. A string of white steam escapes through the small opening, turns into vapour around your nose, kinda dumb of you to take a sip without hesitation. The intense heat burns your upper lip and you wince in reaction. “Fuck!” 

Day 5 

Your enthusiasm surely died down. Two days away from the first paper, you are feeling the tension in your shoulders, in the air, when you come across topics that you are unsure of. The ink runs out in your flimsy pen, the cheapest in Target, and your writing fades away into almost invincible marks on the paper, until you reluctantly switch for another. Consequently, you are feeling numbness in your head after reading, with pressure in temples. Faintness and migraine give you a ready-made and honest reason to excuse yourself from the books momentarily. A short walk to the water fountain or the upper floor toilet will do. 

It seems like deja vu all over again when you come back to the same paper cup but with a different note this time, ‘Wish you luck for whatever you’re struggling with :)’ Kinda creepy… not going to lie. The idea of someone watching you has the hair on your neck prickles. However the ever encouraging words compensate for your terror. 

Fifteen minutes prior to closing time, the librarian makes an announcement and requesting patrons to leave. The sun has already set, and the moon is slowly peeking in the darkened sky. That is when you realize you have been staying in for approximately eight hours.

You make your way out immediately, the drink from an anonymous individual in your hand left untouched and disappointingly you have to throw it away. 

“Hey!” 

Your hand stops in mid air, head turns to the rippling voice. A guy in gold rimmed glasses jogs over. With a closer look, he has a strikingly handsome face and you are left wondering what exactly did you associate with a fine man like him. 

“Glad I caught you,” he says, panting slightly. His eyes flitting nervously back and forth between you and the paper cup. “Do you… Do you not like hot drinks? I’ve got you hot chocolate this time since you weren’t drinking the coffee…” 

 “Oh.” So he is the secret delivery guy. 

There is an uneasy silence in the air. He rubs his collarbone and then the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. “I guess you don’t.” 

“No, no! That’s not it. I just- Don’t get me wrong. I don’t wish to catch myself heart attack cause I had two shots of coffee earlier.” Well, the pounding of your heart should be stopped by now but it does not seem to. Weird. “And this… hot chocolate?” You pause for confirmation and is rewarded with a nod. “Is kinda too sweet to my liking and it’s not such a great idea to get jazzed when I’m wracking my brain.” 

He chuckles, mumbling coherently to himself that he has understood girls wrongly. Little did he know, you are no ordinary girl. You are a girl of determination; a girl of the new millennium. Sugary-sweet desserts work no effect, and you do not fawn upon pick up lines and impassioned gestures. You are too, too difficult to please.

“So…” You look everywhere except in his eyes, feeling awkward in the presence of this stranger, a hot stranger to be frank.

“I- I was asking if you wanna have… dinner with me?” Gulping so loudly he can hear himself, enough for you to hear it too, and you can see his Adam’s apple moving rapidly. 

“Sorry… I’m going back now, though…” And have yourself a bowl of bland oatmeal with fresh-cut fruits. Now, however, your stomach grumbles on cue, reminding you that you have not been eating since morning. 

He chuckles again, a pleasant throaty sound, and humiliation nips your skin like sand fleas. “Let’s go. I believe it can’t wait.” 

This is just odd. What has gotten into you to come into agreement with someone you have known for less than an hour. Anyone else will figure you are a pair of couple just by walking together shoulder to shoulder, and if anyone among your circle of friends were to find out, they are definitely going to be nosy about it.

“Hey, I may be strange, but not weird! There’s a difference.” Jaehyun is his name, and he sure has the balls of steel. Let us put it that way. That is cause the guys in your classes are incomparable, they get intimidated by you while he does not even flinch in the face of the wolf (for some reason they gave you the nickname). 

As much as you hate to admit it, the more time you spend with him, the more you enjoy his company, his wit, and his willingness to discuss anything—whether it be politics, Ironman versus Captain America, or Joji’s latest track. He is courteous, ambitious, and attractive, and he can dance with the best of them. Most of all, he does not seem to mind your independent ways of thinking. 

“Are you going now?” He is probably pushing his luck, since he certainly does not want you to leave just yet, but he has to ask. 

“I am.” You can swear you see disappointment flickers in his eyes and if you are not mistaken, his bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout. But it is gone so fast when, “I can stay for… a bit longer.” 

“Great. Follow me.” 

Without another word, he turns and stalks up the stairs. On the third floor landing, he stops and looks back to make sure you are still following closely behind. An amused smile emerges as he watches you panting breaths, and a blush blooms like hothouse roses in your cheeks. Past the hall and into the narrow passage, thence leading to what you assume is the back door which he has already broke open with a flexible plastic ruler. Flipping the light switch, turning on the lights, illuminating the space, and you come to realize it is the abandoned classroom where you attended tutorials for Business Communication last semester. 

“We could’ve taken the elevator!” 

“It won’t be fun then.” 

“You mean, it won’t be fun if you don’t have me to laugh at.” 

“Besides, nobody saw us. We can’t be seen in here.”  

He proceeds to scramble around like he has done it before, maybe not a lot, but a few times at least. He connects his phone to the stereo system and soft, soothing music drifts lazily on the air from hidden speakers. He then joins you at the table, sitting beside you, closer than your very first meeting. 

“I didn’t know this was possible until now.” 

“Oh, they’re a lot I haven’t shown you yet,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows lasciviously and giving you a cocky grin. You just have to have a pep talk with yourself that if Jaehyun is not hinting something else—you can imagine. 

“Do you always bring people here?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug your shoulders, turning sideways and lean against the chair back with him mirroring your posture. “You know… Girls… Is this how you impress them with your lockpicking skills?”

“Are you, perhaps, a wee bit jealous?”

You scoff at such a ridiculous prospect. In fact, you might get salty if you figure you are just one of the chicks he brought over this place. You are not going to fall for him and his antiques like the stupid bitch they are. 

“No. I never bring women here. I don’t bring anyone here. You’re a first.” 

Your interested gaze transfers to him. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head. 

“But… why?” 

“Policy.” He glances at you, sees you frowning and says, “Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

Yet for long the study session is either neglected or long been buried and forgotten, the mood of the times is a very different one. You continue to talk, and really got to know each other well, not romantically but just as good friends. Suddenly your conversation is broken with the sound of keys jingling, followed by a quick turn of the knob coming from the far side of the corridor. 

It is the security guard patrol. 

Immediately you scutter about the classroom, switching off all the lights, locking the door while he runs to unplug his phone, making sure to return the place to its original state. You find yourselves under the table and stealing glances out of the small window and the crack beneath the door until it passes. 

Though the guard has already left, it does not seem as if Jaehyun has any intention of moving an inch. He is too close—so close you can smell the musk of his cologne, and he smells so damn good. He is too close—so close you can feel the heat of him, and your backside is all but paralyzed from the uncomfortable position. It is dark, but you can still make out the twinkle in his eyes. The tall guy seems fascinated by you, looking you up and down, then openly studying your face. 

The thought must have form in both your minds at the same time because your eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, kissing you gently on the lips. A deep, lingering kiss that have you wanting more. This kiss is so soft that it’s like a memory of a kiss, so careful on your lips that it is like someone running his fingers along them. Slowly, gently, the tip of his tongue traces your mouth, outlining your lips with exquisite, excruciating care. A growl of pleasure escapes him when you part your lips in welcoming at the first prod of his tongue. The lemon drop he had before adding flavor to a kiss that is already the sweetest of your life. 

One of his hands settle at your waist, the other cups the side of your throat. His thumb slides beneath the neckline of your jacket to stroke the hollow beneath your collarbone. On a soft moan, you plunge into the mindless whirl of your senses and allow yourself to feel. Just feel. For the first time in your life, you finally understand that one kiss can helplessly seduce. And if your heart has not been racing earlier, it now goes into overdrive, hammering against your chest.

Jaehyun knows he should not be kissing you. He has told himself he cannot let it happen so soon. But something about you calls to him. Every rational thought vanishes as he gives in to the sensations rampaging out of control. He holds you close, relishing the feel of your breasts crushed against his chest. Sliding his hand down your back to where your skirt has ridden up, pushing his hand beneath the fabric, gliding it up your thigh. A firm squeeze on the curve of your flesh making you yelp and jolt. The loud collision when you banged your head against the desk above bringing you both to your senses. 

“Shit, sorry.” He is breathing hard, his eyes fierce with arousal, his lips red and moist and a little swollen from that hard kiss. You believe yours appear just the same as well. 

Deep in the foggy recesses of your mind, Jaehyun has crawled from under the table and turned away with downcast eyes as he seemingly adjusting the sudden tightness in his pants. 

What just happened? 

“Are you coming out, or not?” He offers his hand, you blink before sliding your shaking one around his. 

Talk about awkward. His shirt is a wrinkled mass from your gripping fingers, your hair swept to the side still you can feel his delicate touch on your skin, both your faces flushed a luscious crimson from the passionate moment.

“I- I should get going…” You nervously clear your throat. Actually, you are ashamed of yourself about it all. You have never thought of yourself as needy, thereto committing to the blind decision of having a hookup with an incredibly gorgeous man. God must have sent a guardian angel to knock out your head before it takes on another level.

However all these thoughts are gone when he says, “May I see you again?” 

“… Sure.”

“Tomorrow?” Boy, he sure is eager.

“Patience.” 

“Right, that’s why I said tomorrow. I want to see you again in another hour. But I’m willing to wait.” 

Has he always been this sweet and smooth? His words, eye contact, and all body gestures operate in the fashion of sweet talking and alluring you, to really basically falling for his suave, smooth ways. This has never been you. 

Unfortunately, the following days should not be possible because you have to keep your mind active and your sanity intact. 

“After finals?” 

He lets out a deep guttural groan. On a second thought, he wants to take back his words, he is not willing to wait for a week, let alone a day. He wants to greet you with a kiss on the back of your hand and a bouquet of fresh flowers, he wants to take you out for a proper date at an exclusive cafe, he wants to pay for the meals— The list goes on. 

“Right. After finals.”

[7-wonders]

Blame It On My Youth

Summary: You’ve seen enough of Michael’s world to last you three lifetimes. Now, it’s time to show him some of your world.

Word Count: 4907

A/N: Did that sound a bit like the Little Mermaid? Yes. Do I care? No. Hope you guys enjoy, feedback is always appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you reblogged, liked, and commented.

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE

Out of all of the fantasy books that you read as a child, none was more frustrating than Lewis Carroll’s classic Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland. It was a fine book, filled with whimsy and adventure, all things that a child can devour like candy, but one particular passage captured your attention and warranted your problem-solving abilities for an entire week after you first finished the book. The famous question of “why is a raven like a writing desk?,” posed by the Mad Hatter to young Alice at their tea party, drove you nearly as mad as a Hatter in trying to solve it. It’s not as if there was an answer; the protagonist, herself, declared that “I think you might do something better with the time than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers,” but you were determined to be the first to solve this unsolvable riddle. Obviously, you didn’t solve the riddle, and the answer still eludes you to this day. You haven’t thought about that old riddle for quite some time, but your current predicament, and the amount of time spent thinking about it, gives you an odd sense of deja vu and reminds you of Lewis Carroll’s question with no answer.

It’s been two weeks since your trip to the Murder House, and your mind has spun with hundreds of questions that seem to have no answer. Michael, of course, hasn’t been any help at all. The man seems to be a walking paradox; when you don’t need him, he’s impossible to get rid of, and on the rare occasion that you do need him, he can’t be reached. You’ve been able to talk to him, your weekend visits to his mansion forcing you to make some conversation, but Michael has diverted every question you’ve shot at him. He doesn’t get mad that you’re constantly coming up with questions that, to you, have no answers, which only confuses you even more. Although you shouldn’t be pushing your luck after his show of mercy at his childhood home, you feel that you’re entitled to some answers.

Michael, the infuriating, confounding, caring husband that he is, has patiently reminded you time and time again that your finals are more important than any questions you may have. You hate it when he’s right, especially when he pulls out the contract and points out that it was you who made it a point to refuse dropping out of school. Your questions, he tells you, can be answered after you’ve finished the semester and gotten the grades you know you’re capable of. If you’re being honest, at this point you would take a year of being trapped in the Murder House over a week of finals (“Your dramatics truly never get old,” Michael commented dryly when you complained to him during a study break on Sunday). Finals week, you’ve decided, is certainly the work of Michael’s father.

Regardless of your opinions on the week of tests that largely decide your grades, the feelings of joy and relief that flood through you upon walking out of the classroom in which your last final of the semester was held. You have a high enough grade in the class to be able to keep your ‘A’ even if you flunk and, if you were brave, you would have just completely skipped the final. Worst-case scenarios, however, prevented you from doing so and made sure that you actually studied for this test. No matter how you did on the tests, you walk across campus feeling like you’re floating on air. No more school for an entire summer! The bliss that accompanies a last day of school does not, thankfully, fade with age.

Part of you wants to literally put the school in your rearview mirror and stay at least a mile away for three months straight, but you’re also a good person who promised to meet her friends for lunch and isn’t about to back out of a commitment. College dining halls, contrary to popular belief, are not nearly as clique-y as high school lunch rooms. Although there’s a few tables that everyone knows the athletes sit at, the rest of the tables are up for grabs. This can make things difficult when you’re one of the last to an already-packed dining hall and you have to awkwardly stand in the middle of the room while you search for your ‘group.’ Having friends like yours makes this move a lot easier, waving at you to get your attention once they notice that you’re looking around for them.

“You had finals today, right? How’d they go?” Kate and Brennan sit across from you, a bowl of cucumbers sitting between them. You grab at one when you take your own seat, deciding a water-based vegetable is better than nothing.

“They went okay, especially considering they were my last finals,” you reply, glancing around the table to catalogue who is and isn’t here. It’s the usual crew, but you take note of a new face. Shooting Kate a glance, she quickly picks up on your question.

“Oh yeah, you two haven’t met before! (Y/N), this is Mallory. She’s in my Russian Lit class, her other friends have already left for the summer so I invited her to come sit with us today.”

Mallory’s beautiful, her large doe-like eyes and golden leaf headband nestled in her brown locks giving her the appearance of some sort of angel. She’s wearing a black dress that’s cinched with a belt that matches the headband, her outfit looking like it costs as much as a couple of textbooks.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N),” you smile warmly, Mallory returning your smile and waving at you.

“It’s really nice to meet you, (Y/N),” she says.

“Why haven’t I seen you around campus before?” Although it’s a large and populated college, you’re sure that you would have remembered seeing someone as unique as Mallory.

“Oh, we must just run in different circles.” The buzzing of your phone draws your attention from the conversation, sending Mallory an apologetic look before checking the notification.

“How did your tests go?” You can’t help the smile when you see Michael’s message, thumbs flying across the keyboard to type a reply.

“I think they went really well, thanks!” 

Barely thirty seconds pass before Michael’s responded, and you stifle a laugh at the mental image of Michael sitting at his desk and just waiting for you to check your texts. 

“You should call me when you get a chance, maybe we can go out and celebrate?” After the Murder House escapade, you had become a lot more lenient with your “two phone calls a week” rule. Sometimes it’s actually you that calls him first, much to the shock and surprise of both of you. 

“Wow, our second date? Amazing, maybe we can even go steady after this lmao,” you can’t help the sarcasm, especially not when the opportunity is right there.

“-and--(Y/N),” Kate whines, drawing your attention back to the people in front of you.

“I was listening!” You unconvincingly insist.

“Really? What was I talking about, then?”

“Um...Brennan?”

“No, but nice try. I was talking about the end-of-year party at Colin and Noel’s.” Colin and Noel are two best friends who live together and, at least once a month, throw the type of parties that are the stuff of legends. The first, and only, time you went to one, Noel got so drunk that he body slammed himself onto the pong table, somebody tried to crowd surf, and multiple people ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. 

That was on a regular Saturday in January.

“I don’t know, Kate, I’m still trying to recover from Thirsty Thursday at the Stadium House.”

“That was almost a month ago.”

“That’s the point,” you say jokingly. “But really though, I don’t like crazy parties, and I’d rather not deal with the cops.”

“They’ve scaled their parties back so much since the last time you came to one! No hospital visits related to events at their house, even!”

“Really?” You can’t help but be skeptical at her claim. 

“Really. Listen, you don’t even have to stay for long, but I’d really like to hang with you one last time before I go back home for the summer.” Kate smiles when you sigh, knowing she has you. A good chunk of your friends are all going off to the far corners of the country for the break, and this will probably be the last time that you’re all together for three months. 

“Alright, let me talk with, uhh--yeah, I should be able to swing by for a bit,” your friends don’t know about Michael yet, and you’d prefer to keep it that way.

“Yay!” Kate squeals, drumming her hands on the table in excitement. 

“I should get going.”

“I’ll see you tonight though, right?”

“...Right.”

“Are you going to the parking lot? I’ll walk with you if you are,” Mallory says, a twinge of guilt running through you at the realization that you practically forgot about the poor girl.

It’s impossible for you to say no, and you find yourself walking side by side with Mallory towards the parking lot. It’s a bit of an awkward silence, as it usually is when two people who don’t really know each other are left alone.

“Seriously though, how have we not met before? Are you a freshman?” You ask.

“No, but this is my first semester here. I transferred from a school in New Orleans.”

“Oh, I love New Orleans! I went there for a week last year, it was amazing.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Mallory looks down towards her heeled shoes, nodding, “I miss it a lot.” Your heart aches at the sudden look of homesickness on your new friend’s(?) face, causing you to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Well, at least the school year’s over and you can go home now.”

“Actually, I think I’m sticking around for the summer. My aunt thinks it’s good for me to get out of New Orleans and out of my comfort zone. My best friend Coco’s letting me stay with her.” Mallory’s phone starts to ring, and she laughs when she looks at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil; it’s my aunt.”

“I’ll see you at the party tonight?” Mallory nods. 

“See you tonight, (Y/N).” Mallory watches you continue towards the parking lot, only answering her phone when you’ve rounded the corner. “Hey, Cordelia...Yeah, it’s her alright.”

////////////////////////////

Michael, as per usual, is in his office when you arrive at his home. Even though he has no logical way of knowing that you’ve arrived, the opening of his office door before your hand even makes contact with the knob gives you the sneaking suspicion that his Antichrist powers give him an advantage. You stroll in, Michael looking a little too nonchalant as he reads through some papers on his desk.

“Some serious Cooperative business?” You ask, falling into a chair on the other side of his desk. 

“You could say that,” he looks up at you, smiling. “How was your last day of the semester?”

“It was fine, finals were fine, it’s all fine, fine, fine.” You spin yourself in the chair, head falling back as you watch the blur of the ceiling above you.

“That’s a mood.” Stopping suddenly, you look at Michael in surprise before laughing loudly.

“Look at you, catching up on your slang!”

“Figured I’d try and actually learn what you were talking about.”

“Speaking of ‘moods,’ I might have something that would help to raise both of ours.” Michael raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “Some...friends of a friend are throwing a huge party tonight for the end of the year. Would you wanna go? I know you had talked about celebrating, but maybe we could celebrate this way?”

“You want me to go to a...college party? The same type of party that you drunk-called me from and where I had to get you from?”

Your face heats up at the reminder. “I’m not even going to be drinking at this party, I learned my lesson last time. Look, I know that you didn’t have the most normal upbringing, so maybe this could be your chance to experience some of the things you missed out on. You can’t tell me that you’re perfectly fine with going from a child to running your father’s army and planning the apocalypse practically overnight.”

Michael’s thinking about what you’ve said, which you’re not sure is good or bad yet. You know that you’ve made some good points, and he knows that you’ll go to the party even if he doesn’t. Maybe this is a question with no answer, like so many that you’ve encountered lately. Michael and parties don’t seem like they’d mix, and it’s impossible for you to read his mind like you can read his.

“Will I be out of place there?”

“Michael, there’s going to be so many people there that nobody will even look at you twice.” A lie; Michael’s far too beautiful for just one look.

“What time?” You aren’t even aware that you were holding your breath until he sighs and looks at you again.

“Really?” Michael nods. “Uh, probably nine or ten?”

“Is there not a set time for these parties?”

“Not really, just whenever people show up.” You stand up, smiling widely at Michael’s sudden apprehension and choosing to leave before he can change his mind. “I’ll leave you to your work!”

The good thing about being at the home of your Antichrist husband is that your wardrobe is limitless. A red satin top and a pair of black jeans (tightened with a Gucci belt, because how are you not going to take advantage of that?) is dressy, yet casual enough to be worn at a college party. When you trek down the stairs at a quarter to nine on a quest to scrounge around the kitchen for a quick meal, you’re not at all surprised to see Michael standing at one of the counters.

“You haven’t gotten dressed yet?” You ask, hopping up on the counter next to him and tearing apart a bread roll before popping a bite in your mouth.

“I figured I could just wear this to the party.” Michael’s expression sours when you laugh.

“I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t mean to laugh! It’s just--if you don’t want to attract a bunch of attention, then I wouldn’t suggest wearing a cloak, a suit, and a pair of red bottoms.” He looks down at his outfit, as if suddenly realizing how overdressed he is.

“But...I don’t know what else to wear?”

“C’mon, I’m sure we can find something in your closet for you to wear.” Michael hesitates when you grab his hand, obviously unsure of what to do next. “Kind of need you to lead the way, since I’m assuming your closet is in your bedroom that I’ve never been to before.”

“Right! Let’s go.”

The uncertainty that you feel at the threshold of Michael’s bedroom holds you back like a tether. It’s not as if anything unscrupulous is going to be happening, but the idea of invading the sanctity of your husband’s private bedroom is a little jarring. Peeking into the room, you’re reminded of a conversation you had with Michael during your first weekend here.

“Does every room look like this?” An unspoken question dangles in the air: does your room look like this? Michael grins widely, but it’s devoid of any of the emotions that a regular smile would accompany. It’s the smile of the devil. 

“Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?” He chuckles at the withering glare you give him, loping back towards the door and resting a hand on the silver handle. 

“So, every room does look the same,” you comment with a smirk, finally getting over your sudden fear and following Michael into his room.

“I had to have a little mystery surrounding me.” Michael smiles. “Are you going to help me or not?”

////////////////////////////

“Everybody here is in khaki shorts and printed shirts,” Michael hisses in your ear. Your hand grips Michael’s firm bicep, and you give it a teasing squeeze.

“Yeah, and you look a thousand times better than them. You always do.” Cars were already inconspicuously-but-not-really parked up and down the block, and you have to maneuver through at least fifty people just in the entryway and the living room. “College guys don’t really have a sense of style.”

“So I won’t lose you to one of these ‘boys,’ then?” Michael’s style, in your opinion, is timeless. You managed to work with his formal wardrobe, finding a white t-shirt and pairing it with an unbuttoned black shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows (although that part may be totally self-serving), and his black jeans are cuffed into a pair of boots. He still looks more formal than everyone else, but it’s way better than him showing up in a goddamned cloak.

“You never even had me in the first place,” you chuckle, shooting Michael a playful wink. “C’mon, let’s see if we can find any of my friends around here.”

There’s coolers set up in the kitchen to keep the different cans and bottles cool, as well as an array of liquor on the kitchen island. Michael looks like a fish out of water, standing around awkwardly while you start peeking into the coolers.

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking,” Michael comments.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to find some soda or water.”

“(Y/N)!” You turn around, smiling when you see Noel standing before you.

“Hey, bud.” Noel, one of two party throwers of legend, is a shorter guy who makes up for his lack of height with his absolute insane stockpile of never ending energy. His black hair is always carefully gelled and combed into place, and he dresses like a middle-aged rich dad who’s going boating for the weekend.

“Who’s your friend? If he’s a part of Sig Tau, he needs to get outta here before Colin sees him, because Colin still has a huge problem with--”

“No, don’t worry, he doesn’t go to our school.” Noel nods, drumming his hands on the table and picking up a bottle of tequila.

“In that case, can I get you two some shots?”

“I don’t know, Noel, I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), one shot’s not gonna get you fucked up. I’ve seen you drink before, you’re barely even gonna get buzzed.” He winks, already knowing that you’re going to say yes when you sigh.

“Two shots, then.”

Noel expertly pours two shots, sliding them your way with a friendly “enjoy” before leaving to continue his hosting rounds.

“What’s Sig Tau? Is that some sort of a cult?” Michael asks once Noel’s gone.

“It’s a fraternity, so close.” You slide a shot to Michael and pick up your own, downing it with a grimace. Michael just stares apprehensively at the clear liquid in the shot glass. “Are you not going to drink that?”

“What is it? It looked like you were drinking gasoline.”

“It’s tequila, which is kind of the same thing.”

“If I die, I’m holding you responsible.” Michael throws his own shot back, coughing and hacking as you cheer. “Satan, that was terrible. Why do people drink that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, grabbing two bottles of water from a cooler and tossing one to Michael, “quick little buzz, palate cleanser, there’s a million different reasons.”

Michael grabs your hand and pulls you out of the way when a girl, clearly already drunk, nearly bumps into you on her search for another drink. She mumbles an apology, choosing to take the whole bottle of Jack Daniels with her instead of pouring it into one of the hundreds of red Solo cups stacked on the counter. His blue eyes meet yours and you both chuckle, silently agreeing to move out of the cramped kitchen and somewhere with less people. While the living room’s not any better, you do manage to run into Kate and Mallory.

“You made it!” Kate exclaims, pulling you from Michael to hug you. Her eyes are wide while also managing to droop at the same time, and you can almost guarantee that she’s crossed. 

“I told you I would be here,” you say, giggling when Kate affectionately boops your nose. Mallory’s standing awkwardly to the side, eyes flickering between you and Michael. Kate also seems to pick up on her friend’s sudden change in demeanor, and smirks when she notices the man trailing behind you.

“And just who is this, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, this is my--uh, my friend Michael.” ‘Friend’ seems like a good term to settle on; you can’t explain your true relationship, Michael is not your boyfriend, and ‘acquaintance’ would be weird to say. Kate wiggles her eyebrows at you, sticking her hand out for Michael to take.

“Helloooo, (Y/N)’s friend Michael.”

“So, do you two have the same classes?” Mallory asks politely.

“No, Michael isn’t in college. He...well, he does--”

“I work for my father,” Michael interjects, smiling down at you. “I’m learning the ropes before I take over for him.” It’s technically not a lie, and you’re impressed until you remember that this must be one of his Antichrist powers. Mallory nods, but you can see a hint of something--doubt, or maybe suspicion?--in her eyes. Kate gasps before anymore words can be exchanged, grabbing yours and Mallory’s hands excitedly.

“I love this song! Dance with me, please!” You don’t really have a choice, the small woman amazingly strong when she wants to be. You look back at Michael apologetically, but he just smiles and gestures for you to go with. 

The familiar bass that underlays all hip-hop songs thumps loudly through you, acting as some sort of an electric charge. Where you had once been bored and ready to quietly slip out of the front door, you’re now controlled by the beat of the song. The congregation of partiers who have also decided to dance grows larger with each passing second, enveloping your trio in the middle. While the dancing isn’t so much dancing as it is bouncing in time with the rhythm, it’s carefree in a way that you didn’t know you needed until now. Mallory takes your hands, both of you laughing as she spins you in a circle.

Michael leans against the wall, head tilted as he watches the dancing college students. More specifically, he intently watches you dancing with your friends. He’s intrigued, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile as you move in a way he’s never seen you move before. While you’re more relaxed around him now, you’re still so reserved in your mannerisms. Here, Michael sees a glimpse of who you once were before he dragged you into his life. You smile widely, singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs along with everyone else in the group of dancers. Your hair flows freely around your face, and he finds himself enraptured by the movement.

Would things have been different between you two if Michael wasn’t the Antichrist? Maybe, in another life, or another universe, you both would have attended the same college. The image pops into his head like it’s burned there; Michael sitting next to you on the first day of some nameless class, becoming friends with you first. Slowly but surely, your bond would only deepen, and from friends would spring lovers. Michael shakes his head imperceptibly: a fantasy. He can’t dwell on these silly theoretical questions that have no answers. It’s a fruitless pursuit, and nothing good will come out of fixating on the ‘what if’s.’

Michael jumps in surprise when you’re suddenly in front of him, being too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the song ending and you making your way back over to him. You laugh, obviously delighted at finally catching him off guard. 

“I let you startle me that time,” he jokingly argues.

“Uh-huh, if that’s what makes this crushing defeat easier for you. Anyways, do you wanna get out of here? Kate and Mallory are the only ones I really came here to see, and if we’re not going to drink there’s not really any reason to be here.”

“I’m ready to go home if you are.”

“Actually, I might have a little detour for us…” you trail off, smiling conspiratorially.

“Oh?” Michael’s not sure if he should be excited or nervous for idea of yours, something that you easily pick up on. 

“I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on opposite sides of a booth in a small diner that you frequent with friends during the school year. A basket of french fries sits in the middle of the table, two tall glasses that are already beading with condensation standing guard next to the food. Amidst the fluorescent lighting, scratchy country music, loud ceiling fans, and run-down booths, you’re struck by how out of place Michael seems here, in your world.

He had stuck out like a sore thumb at the party, his uncomfortable posture and expensive clothing practically screaming that he did not belong in that small house. Here, in a restaurant with patrons ranging from a young family to an elderly couple, a middle-aged businessman to a homeless woman, he looks like some far-away traveler who landed in the wrong town. He’s a Renaissance piece of artwork, something far too beautiful and celestial for the eyes of these mere humans who couldn’t begin to comprehend the masterpiece that is Michael Langdon.

“Just what are we doing here?” Michael asks after the waitress, an older busty woman with red hair straight from the box, sets your order down and leaves. 

“We’re enjoying a late-night snack,” you say simply, grabbing at a fry and savoring the first bite into the just-fried food.

“A late-night snack consisting of french fries and--are these milkshakes?” Michael picks up one of the glasses, investigating its contents. 

“Uh, yeah? Have you never had a milkshake before?”

“(Y/N), my grandmother hid me away and refused to let me out of the house. Of course I’ve never had a milkshake before.” Your face falls, proving that you’re still not good at hiding your emotions like Michael is. Pushing the other glass towards him, you lace your fingers together and place them under your chin. 

“I’m honored that I get to be a part of your first milkshake experience, then. There’s vanilla and chocolate; try them both, and then you can have whichever one you like best.”

Michael looks uneasily between the two glasses, as if trying to decipher if one is poisoned. “Which one do you prefer?”

“I like them both,” you shrug. 

Finally, he takes a cautious sip of the chocolate. You’re mildly disappointed when he doesn’t have any sort of reaction, silently cataloguing his opinions on the flavor before taking a less-cautious drink of the vanilla. Without any fanfare, he pushes the chocolate back towards your waiting hands.

“They’re both good, you’re right, but I like this one better.” You smile, sliding the glass towards you and sipping the shake that he’s rejected.

“Um, Michael…” you trail, not sure how to phrase what you’ve been thinking of for the past week.

“Yes?”

“Would--is the offer to move in with you still on the table?” Michael smirks widely, and you rush to explain yourself. “It’s just that my rent is going up next month and it’s not worth it at this point, and your place is closer to campus. Plus, my cat likes you better than she likes me.”

You’re not sure why you’re nervous, since he’s obviously going to say yes to your request. You living with him was one of the only things he desperately wanted during the contract negotiations. When you think about it, you just don’t want him to get the wrong idea. It seems as if you’ve finally reached a comfortable relationship with Michael, a place where you tolerate him and could even see him as one of your friends. But an actual romantic relationship is so far down the list of things that you and Michael are, and you don’t want him to think that you’re finally going to be the loving wife that Satan wanted you to be. For lack of better wording, there’s no way in hell that will happen.

“Only because I like your cat better than you, and I wouldn’t want her to go homeless.” Your mouth drops and you laugh, picking up a fry and throwing it at Michael who, of course, deftly catches it in his mouth.

“You jerk!”

“You said it first, not me!”

“Fine,” you sit back against the booth and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your best poker face on, “but you should know that we’re a package deal.”

“Hmm, I suppose I can cope with that.”

“Do we have a deal, then?” Yet again, you’re struck by the irony of making a deal with the Devil (well, the Devil’s son, but close enough). Michael picks up his glass and waits for you to do the same, clinking your milkshakes together in agreement. 

“We, my dear, have a deal.”

////////////////////////////

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[turtle-steverogers]

Code: WTF (1/3)

hey, so here’s a little three part fun fic involving fbi agents and russian spies! (with just a little angst) enjoy!

warnings: a small depiction of death, but it’s not super bad

ship: platonic ralbert, platonic spalbert, soon to be sprace

word count: 1927

editing: ofc not

-

Making decisions, Albert has come to realize, is not his forte.  Granted, he’s generally good at helping others make decisions- he’s got that sort of innate way of looking at the whole picture, which is good when you’re trying to help someone sort through different situations.  But he can never seem to apply this strong suit to himself.  

Like when he was thinking of career paths and he’d spend hours at night staring at his ceiling and wondering whether or not he wanted to commit himself to a world of chance and danger and join the FBI.  Because, wow, had that been a dream of his ever since he watched his first James Bond movie at nine years old.  There was something thrilling about watching that action- seeing how he could use his sharp problem solving skills for something bigger than himself.  He wasn’t sure if he was ready to pledge himself to something that seemed almost like a life sentence, but he also was never one to run from a challenge.  So...after a couple years of college and a bachelor’s degree in engineering, he started studying for his Phase I assessment.  

It was grueling.  The entrance exam was no easy task and it only got harder from there with the ‘Meet and Greet’ and Phase II written assessment.  Not surprisingly, though, he had made it through and soon he was off to Quantico, where he was tested against his own willpower for upwards of 21 weeks.  It was tough, but he made it through with flying colors.  

Shortly after his 28th birthday, on a sunny and almost too hot July morning, he’d been trying not to let a giddy smile spread across his face embarrassingly as Director Larkin swore in his class- awarding them with their badges and credentials.  The smile did break through however when Larkin had looked directly at him while speaking of “Those most fit and impressively accomplished” and winked.  But he was proud of himself.  Sue him.

After the ceremony, Race- his roommate during Quantico whom he’d grown particularly close to- had handed over some suspicious looking store brand lemonade in a shitty, plastic cup and bumped their shoulders together, smiling as he raised his glass.  Albert mirrored his grin and clinked their glasses together.

“To the dream.” Race had said, taking a sip.

Albert drank too, and echoed, “To the dream.” 

Now, three years later, he’s finding that his bad decision making skills are still very present as he stares at the shelves of brightly colored cereal boxes, trying to decide what he wants this week’s breakfast to be.

As a Senior Special Agent, it’s very serious reconnaissance work.

Just as he’s reaching for a box of Dark Chocolate Crunch Cheerios, Race materializes next to him, looking a little tight around the eyes as he places a couple cans of Progresso soup into their basket.  

His movements are calculatedly casual, but Albert knows him well enough to know his stress tells.  The way his shoulders are just slightly raised, ready to launch into motion at the first sign of trouble.  The tense of his jaw and the slight scrunch of his nose- as if he’s smelling something off.  Bad.

“Hey, Al,” Race says, straightening.  Even his voice is that sort of forced casual it gets when he’s inwardly freaking out about something, “Do you remember our trip to Morocco?”

A shiver runs down Albert’s spine and he gives himself credit for only hesitating for a moment before recovering.  Morocco is their personal code for ‘hey, someone is definitely following us, so we either need to dip or do something about it.’

“The first or second trip?” Albert asks, his words just as rehearsed.  

And that’s their follow up code.  The first trip means it’s an unknown party; the second trip means it’s someone affiliated with whatever operation they’re currently assigned to.

Really, it’s counterintuitive to even ask, because they haven’t been on any major assignments in nearly a month now.  Director Larkin had given them both time off from the big stuff after their last operation had gone decidedly south when they lost a couple of the DEA guys they’d been teamed up with in a surprise shoot-out against the drug corporation they were tasked with bringing down.  

It was jarring to say the least, and neither him nor Race complained too much when Larkin had suggested laying low for a while.  It was the first time they’d ever lost their own men on a mission and in such a gruesome way.  Some arterial blood had sprayed Albert in the face, getting on his tongue and clogging up his nose.  He doesn’t remember much after that.  Race says he dissociated big time.  Albert doesn’t really care.  He just knows that he still can’t eat tomato sauce on his pasta, because the red of it still looks too much like--

Yeah, no.  Alfredo sauce is a new favorite in the Dasilva-Higgins apartment.

“First trip.” Race says, watching as Albert carefully puts the Cheerios box in the basket.

The sudden feeling of being watched pricks at Albert’s neck and he resists the urge to look behind him.  

“When’d you first notice?” Albert asks, dropping his voice lower and motioning for Race to follow him as he moves down the aisle, still trying to look nonchalant as he grabs a random box of Fruity Pebbles.  The gun that’s tucked into the waistband of his jeans becomes a noticeable weight against his lower back.  It’s a comforting weight, if not a little disconcerting.  But that’s basically in their job description.

“On the way here,” Race says, following Albert’s lead and plucking a box of shitty granola bars off a shelf behind them.  As long as they look busy, they look normal, “Noticed him walking behind us around the time we passed Suffolk.  Was wary, but didn’t think too much of it until I saw him lurking by the bananas while I was getting some apples.”

“Didya get a look at him?  Any discernible features?”

Race shrugs, eyes darting over Albert’s shoulder, then to the side, “Not really.  Short, I’d stick him around 5’4”?  Dark hair and eyes.  He’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket, kept his hood up.”

Albert hums, “And you last saw him by produce?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Albert says, “Come on.”

They forgo the rest of their shopping list and hurry to check out, trying to maintain a sort of ostensibly relaxed appearance.  Just as they’re leaving the market, turning the opposite way from which they came, Albert’s neck prickles harder.  His stomach swoops a little and he hesitates, waiting for the right moment to turn around and grab the collar of the offending party, pulling him into a nearby alley and pushing him against the bricks.

He hears Race curse, but doesn’t look at his field partner as the guy against the wall’s hood falls away.  For a moment, Albert’s stunned, instinct falling short as his gaze sweeps over the guys face.  

And as shocking as it is, it’s comforting in a way.  Because even after eleven years, Albert would know those brown eyes and sharp features anywhere.  

His grip on the guy’s collar slackens and he feels his shoulders slump a little, “Spot?”

Spot grins, “Heya, Al.”

XXX

“Wait, so you know our stalker?”

It’s probably the millionth time Race has asked that since they’d dragged Spot back to their apartment on 14th street, taking a few cautionary side roads just in case.  Now, they’re gathered in the kitchen, each of them settled in with a beer even though it’s arguably too early to drink.  

Whatever, Albert thinks, It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?

Besides, what else are you supposed to do when the guy you’d been best friends with until he allegedly fell off the face of the earth, shows up in your life again by stalking you while you’re grocery shopping.

Yeah, Albert deserves a drink.  And he’s technically not on the job right now-- ok, he and Race are always ‘on the job’, but he’ll digress.

“Yup,” Spot answers for Albert, taking a swig of his beer, “best buds since Lindsay Hartman splashed punch on him during ninth grade homecoming, then pushed him into the refreshments table where I was getting a sandwich.”

Race shoots Albert a bewildered look and Albert shrugs, “I was kind of a dick back then and I was going through a gay panic, so I brought her to the dance and then accidentally blurted out that I thought her brother was hotter than her during the slow song and...well, ninth grade wasn’t the best year for me.”

“Clearly,” Race sounds amused, but he’s obviously still too shook up by Spot’s existence to jab Albert too hard.  

Albert can’t blame him, either.  It’s inherently bizarre to have your current and past best friends standing in the same room after thinking you’d never see one of them again.  

“Albert never mentioned you,” Race says, looking at Spot.  He’s got his ‘agent face’ on- studiously taking in all of Spot’s mannerisms, while not wavering his gaze from his eyes.

“Wouldn’t expect him to,” Spot says, unbothered, “We lost touch after high school.”

“More like you disappeared unexpectedly and never answered my phone calls or texts and I thought you died, but I couldn’t find anything on you since you were off the fucking grid.” And yeah, maybe Albert’s a little bitter, because he and Spot had been closer than close, but during their second year of college, Spot transferred to some school somewhere in Europe and never spoke to him again. 

Spot looks a little guilty now, but he still manages to be the dick Albert always knew him to be and says, “Tomato, tomahto.”

Albert rolls his eyes, “What even happened to you, man?”

“That’s actually what I’m here about,” Spot says.  A shadow passes over his face and he suddenly looks sharper- rougher, “I- uh, there’s, uh, some...trouble regarding...things...”

Race and Albert exchange a look and Albert can see the words, well, that’s vague, bouncing around in Race’s head.

“What kind of trouble?” Race asks.

“So,” Spot starts, then stops, shaking his head, “This is a bit of a crazy story, but anyway.  I moved right?  Overseas?  And I ended up, um, getting into a bit of a...situation.”

Wary now, Albert places down his beer and crosses his arms, “What kind of situation?”

“I kind of got recruited by the FSB?”

The shocked silence is almost palpable.

Race recovers first, “The Russian intelligence agency?”

A pause, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Albert can’t handle this.  This is too much.  Too weird. 

He scrubs a hand over his face, “You do know what I, what we-” he gestures between himself and Race, “-do, right?”

He knows Spot knows.  He needs to ask, anyway.

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re telling a couple of FBI guys that you’re part of the FSB?” It sounds weird to Albert’s own ears.  He laughs a little, because really, he has to.

“Well...yes.”

“This is fucking weird,” Race states, pointing out the obvious, “Anyway, is there more to your so-called ‘trouble’? Or are you just now realizing the moral wrongness of being an American in the Russian spy network and want some sort of atonement?”

Spot seems to have an internal battle with himself before he mutters something that sounds like ‘fuck it’, “Albert, you’re my next mission.  I’m supposed to kill you.”

“Oh,” Albert says, frowning down at his crossed arms.  Then, Spot’s words process, “Wait, what!?”

-

hehehe we love an russian fbi drama

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[sugaxjpg]

02 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words:  8,048

Author’s Note: Hello, everyone! Before anything else, Laura and I would like to thank you all for the overwhelming support we’ve received for part one. We are beyond thrilled that you guys are liking this series as much as we are!! Without further ado, let’s get down to business (to defend the huns).

“There is no way in hell I’m wearing this, you hear me?” you screamed against the phone for the third time in less than ten seconds. A high-pitched ding indicated the audio had been sent, and that was your signal to toss the device aside. Jungkook would not listen to it, like he had not listened to the other ten voice messages you had blessed his chatroom with.

The last message you had received from him had been short and dry, more of a user’s guide than a text. It exhibited his advanced SAT vocabulary and his outstanding talent to be concise. Lambda Kappa Pi. 11pm. Say you’re my girl and they’ll get you in. Good luck with the dress.

My girl, as if there was a dimension out of the multiverse you had been thrown into in which you would say such nonsense. My girl, your brain echoed, this time in his voice, that you imagined would be hoarse and whiny during sex. No, no, that was not an image you wanted in your mind.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook’s girl,” you spoke as you imagined yourself babbling at the entrance of the frat house, clad in that skin-tight little red dress. Imagination is a very powerful weapon to use against oneself, and it immediately transfigured you into a Legally Blonde character, one of the sweethearts from Delta Nu but with no rich daddy, no fake tanning, and no equilibrium to stand over the sky-challenging high-heels he had sent along with the dress.

You’d look far more like a clown that had just ran away from the circus, that’s for sure.

You clenched your jaw at the absurdity of that idea, ignoring the butterflies that begun dancing in your stomach. His girl. Stupid ass. You would never do something like th—

—Ding!

In a reflex, you practically threw yourself on your bed to reach for your phone, chest bubbling up with the ridiculous excuses that he could have sent back to you. Instead, however, what you were met with was a simple series of condescending texts:

Jungkook’s only neuron said: u’ll look great bby

Jungkook’s only neuron said: im getting heated just thinkin of u in that ;)

You said: You prick

You said: That dress doesn’t even cover my ass properly

Jungkook’s only neuron said: that was what i was hopin for

You groaned out loud as your eyes read his message, mind working faster than the quick progression of your thumbs against the screen — you better be ready for me to ruin you with the favor I have stored up, then, you texted back.

Jungkook’s response arrived all too soon. There was no physical time to toss the phone back onto the bed, to try the diminutive piece of clothing on and see if there was a way your boobs could survive without suffocating. As the notification blared through the speaker, you imagined him, expecting your reply by the phone, biting his nails. In your imagination, he was nervous, at least a bit; but Jungkook and his cohorts did not know nervousness, at least not when confronted to tests of women. They followed all those ludicrous bro-code-or-whatever-they-called-it rules; and making girls wait for their replies was in the book.

“Ruin or be ruined, that’s the world we live in,” you read out loud, trying to find in between the words Jungkook’s personal trademark. Unexpectedly, there was no baby. No typos. No superfluous exhibition of his very pompous personality. Had he asked for help? Perhaps Namjoon, the only one in the frat house with a functional brain. Maybe Yoongi, but it sounded way too contained to his taste.

“Quote your sources next time,” you typed rapidly, grinning all the way. “See you later, bby.”

Now Jungkook’s Only Neuron could type and ruminate over your odd response all he wanted. There would be no more texts until the party — except perhaps a picture or two of you in that dress, blurry and terribly illuminated. The ire of the gods would fall upon him when he tried to zoom in into your boobs only to find pixels. A taste of his own medicine, that was what you called this cruel stratagem.

Now, there were only a limited number of things which could count as social humiliation for you. As mentioned aforetime, failing a ridiculously easy class or exposing your underwear were near the top of the list, alongside some awfully personal experiences, but you never thought there would be something to top all your expectations. Turns out that 90’s movies make a so called “makeover” to be something great and empowering when, in reality, it had to be the spiritual equivalent of intestinal cramps in the middle of a road trip. And yes, you had been through that. No further comment.

Maybe the movie director of your life was sadistic. Maybe that experience was karma for ruining poor Jungkook’s mental health earlier that day. Whatever it was, it was the new number one on your list of social humiliation. You could not claim you hadn’t gotten anything out of that night — but experiences make you grow, right?

You knew you had fucked up the second you walked up to the fraternity house — that stupidly large, greek-like mansion that pulsated under the progression of the awfully loud music — and saw a pair of underwear on the grass, lost amidst a sea of bottles and beer cans. And then a bra. And then an used cond— Jesus Christ! Were those kids acting out Animal Planet? There were limits. There had to be. Goodbye to your long lost purity.

To top it all off, it was cold. Not nice, chilly cold, but winter-is-here kind of Game of Thrones bullshit. The wind was like cold daggers against your skin, piercing your naked legs as you moved closer to the entrance door, benumbing your senses to the fullest extent. Whatever it was that you had in store for Jungkook, it had to be equally torturous to that walk of shame — the night had not even started, and you were already constructing an escape plan.

“Hey,” you said as you stopped in front of two athletes, crossing your arms before your figure — thank God for your common sense, since the leather jacket you wore both covered your insanely tight boobs and gave you a bit of heat. You wouldn’t have started a conversation with them if not absolutely necessary and, in that case, they were blocking the passage. “Excuse me, please.”

One of them turned to you with arched eyebrows, looking you up and down, “You seem familiar,” he mumbled, infecting the atmosphere with a terrible scent of alcohol. To be fair, you thought you knew him too, but did not want to get into friendly terms with any of them. “Whatcha’ doing here?”

Hell, here goes nothing, “Jungkook called me here.”

“Jungkook, who?” The other one — the travel-sized counterpart — laughed, hitting his friend’s shoulder in his drunken haze. “We know no Jungkook.”

They were still blocking the entrance, and you were not in the mood to commence an arrogant dissertation on why they did know the Jungkook you were referring to, and why was their ruse so evident. Shivering inside the leather jacket, you tried to find a way around the words he wanted so desperately to hear. “I am his friend,” you said.

The smaller of the two scoffed. “Jungkook has no friends.”

“I thought you knew no Jungkook,” you smirked, devilishly, but the brainless pair would not subside in their efforts to rip a confession out of your — literal — cold body. “For fucks sake. I am his girl. Jungkook’s. The one that gets to fuck him every night while you two try to resist the homoerotic dynamics you have seen yourselves trapped into. Now let me in, Tweedledee.”

“A straight-up bitch. Hot.” They murmured as you made your way into the hall. Inside, a myriad of bodies crammed the room, pressed against one another. Girls in short dresses and stressed boys trying to get their attention roamed around, red cup in hand. Their scent was sweetly rancid, a mixture of alcohol, sweat and pheromones you would not be able to stand for long without a drink in your hand.

No. Wait. Probably wouldn’t be the wisest of ideas to be intoxicated while pretending to be someone else’s girlfriend for the night. You got awfully sincere when you had alcohol, and the last thing you needed was to ruin your saved favor, especially after going through all the trouble you did. Next step would not be to drink away your disgust, as compelling as that seemed to be, but to find out your pathetically inadequate fake boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath, you skirted the overabundance of bodies as you made your way past the main living room, finding solace in a somewhat calm corner of the ambient. You leaned your back against the asperous wall, taking your phone out of your purse. Numb, your thumbs cried under the effort of unlocking the device and moving to his contact — that arrogant smile on that nauseatingly perfect display picture — to type your impatient messages:

You said: Hey, loser

You said: I’m here already

You said: Where can I find you?

You waited for a few seconds to see if he would get online, but nothing appeared on your screen. For a moment your mind wandered towards the possibility of it all being a prank, after all: to get you, a serious and stuff girl, in that outrageously small piece of red fabric would be a huge joke on itself, even more if he managed to show it off to his friends. If that was the case, you would transfer colleges. Not to be overdramatic or anything.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I told you to wear a jacket, baby girl.”

The second you raised your gaze, you came to regret your reckless decision — not in the cutesy, hesitant manner you were feeling aforetime, but in the this-was-a-horrible-idea-and-my-life-is-over type of shit. Not because you were in any sort of danger, but because you accepted the fact that you had absolutely no way to control yourself near the sheer sexual temptation that was Jeon Jungkook. Not like that.

In all his glory, the idiot looked the best he ever did. With his black hair slightly disheveled, parted almost in the middle, and eyes gleaming under the neon lights of the frat house, he looked like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot for Men’s Health. His team’s jacket — blue and white, with the symbol of your college — had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins in his forearms; unbuttoned so it presented you with the v-cut shirt he wore underneath, grey. You could see the outlines of his fucking abs with that crap. Muscle pig. It was absurd. He should take it off.  

And of course, there were those fucking thighs. But you would not allow your gaze to fall under his waistline just yet. Yet.

A hum from his part interrupted your momentaneous fall into inferno, making you realize how quickly your heart started to beat. “You’re lucky you’re hot as fuck,” Jungkook acknowledged, his own eyes falling to your form, eyebrows slightly arched. “I always knew I had good taste for girlfriends.”

The silence between you was bubbling with an unspoken tension. Sexual, Cosmopolitan would have defined it as purely sexual. "Ten Easy Tips to Know if your Crush Wants you Too," or something of the sort would had been plastered all over the cover, where a barely-legal model would have judged you with doe-like eyes.

Jungkook's roseate tongue came out to wet his lips, to fill the void words had left behind with a heavy sigh. You wondered what those lips tasted like. Had you been asked to guess, you would have said cherry, or strawberry — although you were certain he had been drinking beer or, worse, cheap tequila shots.

The faux courage that had been motioning your body forward ever since you abandoned the dorms was now slipping in between your fingers as you reached for the hem of his jacket. "You look—" you started, but your mind went blank in a maelstrom of adjectives, amongst which you found barely no insults.

"—smoking hot?" Jungkook ventured. He was not mistaken, but still you scoffed. It the quintessence of your being, the endless sarcasm; you could not just abandon the truth of your nature for a boyfriend. A fake one, to top it all.

"I was going to say stereotyped, but hot also fits. I guess," index pressed against his chest, you leaned forward reducing the space between your bodies to naught. Air escaped in between his teeth when your lips caressed his ear with your murmurations. "What now, baby?" you mumbled, oblivious to his fingers as they traveled up your arm in a tender caress.

"Honestly?" the impish gleam of his eyes was a bad omen or, at least, the indication that you were not prepared in the slightest for what was to come. "I want to kiss the hell out of you, but not here."

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget that it was all an act. Without a second thought, you found yourself biting your lower lip in sheer desire. Lucky you, the boy would most likely think that was part of the fake love, and not your raging hormones coming out to say hello. “I would very much like that, yes,” you purred out against his skin, pressing your chest against his own. His heart was beating fast, but yours was no different. “Where to?”

Jungkook seemed to take a second to calm his nerves, clearing his mind from the impulses that flashed within his needs — if he were to be sincere, you two could forget that plan and just have a private place for yourselves, but there was a protocol to follow, his reputation at stake.  “Couch,” that word came out in a serpentine whisper, muffled as if had been verbalized miles underneath the sea. Against your waist, his palm held your skin in an almost protective manner — yet, both of you were holding back now.

You hummed in agreement. His scent was intoxicating you, the heat of his body was monopolizing your most logical of conceptualizations. “Take me whenever you need me,” you agreed as one of your hands slid down his chest — jesus, those fucking abs — and towards his own hand. You intertwined his fingers in his, loving that position a bit more than you probably should. “Should we?”

If he had said something in return, you did not hear it. Before you could control yourself any further, the boy was already guiding you past the chaotic ocean of exhilarated bodies, holding down to your hand as if it was his own version of salvation. Jungkook was lucky he was hot — very fucking hot, at that — otherwise you would have cracked another joke or two about how eager he appeared to be. Still, you were certain it would backfire.

“I see you want to put up a show,” was what you said instead, accompanying his harsh movements as the two of you arrived upon the center of the room — the heart of the party, if you could say that. From your peripheral vision, you could see splashes of blue and white moving around, signaling that more of his teammates were around. Classic show off. “Want everyone watching.”

“You have no clue, babe.” Jungkook turned around just in time so he could see the glimpses of lust coruscating inside your eyes. Bedroom eyes. Cute. “I want that jacket off.”

“No deal,” you told him promptly. With a groan, the boy threw himself on a beige couch nearby, sitting somewhat close to where another two jocks conversed vigorously, waving their red cups in the air like they were not half full. It was only a matter of seconds before they saw the two of you — more precisely you — and his pretty spectacle would finally begin. “Why do you want to expose your girlfriend like this?”

It was no problem. He could take it off himself.

As a response, Jungkook simply placed his hands on his thighs, signaling you that it would be your seat for the night — seems like you would be sitting in his lap, after all. “Come here, baby,” he requested. Okay, you would be lying through your teeth if you said that the place did not appear to be as inviting as possible. “Let me have a taste of you.”

To hell with it. If you were going to act it out, you might as well put up a show, and calm down your raging hormones as you did so.

And fuck, there were some things that 90s movies could never prepare you for. There was no scene, no soundtrack, no music video able to distract you from how firm his legs were as you sat down on top of them, dress slightly moving up your thighs. There was no director, no storyline that could guide your hands around his neck as you tilted your head and closed your eyes, falling to the absolute misery that was Jeon Jungkook. There was nothing in the entire world that could have made you pull away.

What a terrible fucking idea.

Jungkook groaned as soon as your lips met, quick to set the pace as a quick, needy, sloppy kiss. His hands, before so vacillating, now had traveled to your ass, where he squeezed your flesh, making you press down your hips against his, not letting it go for a second. You melted against his kiss, allowing yourself to sigh and moan against his mouth as his tongue encountered yours. Lacking places to hold onto, your hands moved to his cheeks, then to his hair, intertwining in his black locks and pulling on them.

Okay, there were things you regretted. You thought there was nothing capable of topping the preposterous plan of pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, but that was because you had not reached that point of the night just yet. Because you had still not pulled away just enough so you could speak, caressing his lips with your own, speaking in a voice so filled with lust that you were surprised yourself. “Is that all you can do, kiddo?” you provoked him. “Come on, Jeon, is this how you treat your girl?”

He smirked. “Believe me, princess, there’s nothing I’d love more than treat you the way you deserve. Anything for you. But, you see, the audience is waiting and, as much as I would love to fuck you raw in this couch, I’d rather give the show I promised, and then renegotiate the initial clauses of our little contract,” then, a small pause, “if you are interested, of course.”

The boy was an idiot, or so you had thought: Jeon Jungkook, the dumbass that lets his dick make every essential decision, and doesn’t grasp even half of the references you throw at him. Apparently, that was not the case, and his intelligence was extensive only when he had to protect his pride and bring to term an important business. In other words, he wasn’t dumb, he wa just a selfish little prick.

Fingers sauntering up your thigh, Jungkook murmured in-between delicate kisses, and it made it impossible for you to deliver a witty remark. Every few words he would stop to taste your flesh with the tip of his tongue, and then nip it with his teeth. Lost in the feverish reverie of his tender caresses, you abandoned yourself to the feel of his kisses as his lips marked the path towards your jaw, your cheek. With a sigh falling from your swollen lips, you hoped to express the thirst he had incited, but he merely watched your reaction, diverted. Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing.

“For now,” he said against your ear, marking each word with a tap of his finger against your thigh. “This will have to do.” His thumb slid past the hem of your skirt and fuck, how you wished he were to continue his journey towards your underwear. There had been no specifications about that matter, but you had added your distinctive touch to the outfit. Jungkook did not know yet, but he would have loved to take that off you.

“I really think you can step up your game, Jungkook.” You looked around, biting your lips. None of the players around you were particularly interested in your little affair. Short skirts and exhibitionism were the daily bread of all those jocks. Luckily, that night no one had pulled out their dicks to measure them or start a peeing contest. Perhaps later in the night, when alcohol run freely through their bloodstream, eliminating their inhibition — or what was left of it, anyways. “This show of yours will impress no one.”

As if motioned by the fuel of a good challenge, Jungkook pounced over your lips. His touch was no longer delicate, contained, or meticulous, as it was before. Earlier, all he had wanted was to create a beautiful painting in which you, a girl that would have never had any interest for the jock in the class, was head over heels for him. He cared not about his audience, not anymore, as he could not bring himself to think of the friends he was supposed to impress. His only and most primal desire was to prove himself, to erase the disdainful sneer tainting those lips that were like nectar against his tongue.

You threw yourself off his lap and leaned your back against the arm of the sofa, being trapped between it and his large figure. In the impetus of his sudden adoration, you lost your hold on reality and allowed for him to overtake you, pressing his chest against your own. Jungkook’s hand in the small of your back cushioned your descents to the inferno of his hips pressed against yours, hands exploring your waist, and the curve of your breasts over the tight dress.

It was getting more and more difficult to come to your senses when all you could feel were his palms against your breasts, only to go down to your ass a second later. Your dress was being pulled upwards, your heart overtaken by the intoxicated by rhythm of the song as one of his legs moved in between yours, pressing down on your core — gradually at first, but then strong enough for you to moan loudly against his mouth. This kid was playing with fire. You loved it.

You were out of breath and out of mind when a voice called from the outside world, that universe of flashing comets and red asters circulating around your sweltering bodies. “Hey kid! Jungkook!” the unknown timbre insisted further and, before you could recognize it, Jungkook had pushed himself away from you to smile at a stranger. Whoever it was, you wanted him killed for interrupting your search for nirvana. “You know we have rooms for that kind of unholy shit. Leave all the exhibitionism for Jimin, he loves it.”

With a smirk, his victory became plastered across his douchebag face, “I got carried away, sorry,” Jungkook explained, lips shining with the remnants of your gloss. His hand was still against your waist, but he showed no shame when he winked in your direction, purposefully following your eyes as they grew darker — he was loving it. “Tastes like heaven, y’know?”

The other guy, whose name you could not quite recall, simply rolled his eyes at the out-of-character sentence, “Whatever you say, dude,” he mumbled underneath the music, unaffected by show you two had put up. Instead, his gaze seemed to be a bit lost in the remanent liquid that dwelled on the bottom of his red cup — poor kid was completely wasted. “Uh, by the way, before I forget. Namjoon has been looking for you for like two hours or whatever. He says, and I quote, that he wants to see it or he won’t believe it.”

Jungkook’s smile grew by a few millimeters, finding in that sentence the opportunity he needed. He didn’t need half of your GPA to understand what his friend was referring to, “Yeah, sure thing, man,” he answered. You were amazed how casually he was acting for someone who still had one hand holding tightly to your ass, but you could not claim you did not like it. In fact, he could strip you naked for all you cared, fake boyfriend or not. “Where is he, by the way?”

Chewing on his words for a second, the guy paused. His chocolate-colored eyes got lost in the horizon and, at last, you came to understand that he must have consumed something other than alcohol — hey, no judgement, you were not precisely the morally superior person in that conversation. “He was at the game room with the dudes. I don’t know if they’re still there.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook exclaimed, his palm squeezing your ass once again. Only then did you notice that, in the meantime, his shirt had rolled up a bit. Now you totally could see those abs you have always dreamt about and, good lord, they were even better than what you imagined. If you were not acting then, you would have cursed out his unnamed friend for interrupting that slack of paradise — but hell, the ghostly sensation of his lips on yours still got the best of you. Fucking prick. He was too powerful. “Thanks, Tae. You didn’t see anything.”

Tae… Taehyung. Oh, now you remembered. The kid who got high and ate pizza from the bottom of the pool in freshman year. Disgusting and slightly worrisome. You thought some memories could be left forgotten.

Taehyung suspired. “I did, though,” only then did his gaze navigate back to you, lingering on your face for a couple more seconds than necessary. You didn’t know if it were the drugs acting up, or if he was examining your artificially naive expression. “Hot choice of panties, by the way. Your ass looks great in lacy black. Cheers to that.”

“You have really good taste, buddy.” With a radiant smile, you agreed. Past the blur of weed and alcohol, Taehyung replicated the gesture, and raised his red cup in a giddy toast. Whether he was lauding the glorious roundness of your ass, or the intricate beauty of your one and only pair of expensive panties, you did not care. There was no use for shame within those walls, especially when your ass was indeed hot confined within the soft lace. “Imaginary cheers to that.”

It was a moment of amicable comradery, even though Taehyung was one shot away from becoming the buffon of the party. Around your waist, Jungkook’s fingers tightened but, before you could turn around to face his predictable displeasure, the moment ended, and you were presented with a luciferous smile.

“Noted. Thank you dude, see you around.” Jungkook screamed over the loud bass of a terrible remix of a very popular song you wished was shorter. The constant chit-chat developing around did not help communicate but, luckily, you were not required to hold a challenging conversation that night. With a peck in the lips and a light squeeze of your ass, Jungkook prompted you to move. It was strangely loving — for a jock, at least.

Once anew, he guided you through the crowd, a hand in your waist and the other buried deep in one of the pockets of his jacket. The picture was magazine-worthy. One of those blurry shots, taken with a Polaroid, that could had made it into the cover of an Indie album — even if Jungkook could have starred in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, jacket and all.

“Where is that fucking game room?” The question felt extremely bitter against your tongue when you had to wipe someone else’s sweat off your arm. The party was heating up, and not in the good way. “Please tell me it isn’t some Fifty Shades of Grey shit.”

“Didn’t picture you as one of those.” Jungkook let go of your waist to interwine his fingers in yours. It was calming, the chilliness of his hand against your sweltering skin. “But no, here we never watched that. The dudes are, you know, more into anal compilations and shit like that— not me!” He rushed to say, hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Baby Jesus wouldn’t not approve.”

That was, by far, the weirdest conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Pity, now that I thought we would make a great pair.” You sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find another hot dude to watch my kinky porn with.”

“I— sweet lord.” With shaky hands he massaged his cheeks. You were exhausting, even for him. Good. “We’ll discuss that later.” Jungkook opened one of the doors in the hallway, leading into a big space that was, precisely, only meant to game. “Now we have business to do.”

Biting down on your lower lip, you took a couple steps into the large area, absorbing its details. The first thing you noticed, as your company closed the door behind you two, was that it was soundproof — finally, a blessing for the night. As the excruciating buzzing in your ears still lingered, your hearing started to focus on the diverse conversations that dwelled beyond those closed doors. From what you could notice, there had to be around fifteen people in there — stereotypical jocks and cheerleaders, if you were to be quite honest — and they were mostly segregated into two smaller groups. One of which, you recognized, had the individual you two had been looking for.

Now, Kim Namjoon was a specimen of his own kind. You had no idea what kind of satanic pact had he resorted to, but it had been good enough to gift him the brain of a Harvard professor and the body of a professional athlete — all wrapped up in that team jacket, which suited him so dangerously well. You would be lying through clenched teeth if you were to say you had not checked him out at least once or twice during your shared Advanced Literature classes — but that was a secret that would be buried with you. Again, he was still one of those fraternity types, and blowing up their egos was as easy as blowing other, less christian areas.  

Again, you would be lying if you said you had not considered that either.

Jungkook’s arm found the curvature of your waist once again, making you fall back into your usual acting state. Next to you, the boy was smiling freely — not in a sympathetic manner, but in a I’m-getting-good-sex-tonight kind of smile. He could keep dreaming, for all you cared. “What’s up, Kim?” he cheered, guiding you around the grey couch. Considerably large, it was surrounded by two armchairs, forming a square-like shape in the center of the room. On the wall next to it, a baseball game was silenced on the LED screen. “Thought I wouldn’t see you tonight.”

Namjoon had his elbows resting on a marble table, seating on one of the tall benches that surrounded it. You were surprised he had even found empty space in there, since all you could see was a pandemonium of empty bottles and pizza boxes. “I should be one one saying that, Jeon.” The other jock smiled just as freely, exposing those dimples you had always found unbearably cute. He did not look at you for a second. “You are not one to vanish during a party. Did you get laid or something?”

“See, Namjoon, your friend Jungkook is trying to get laid tonight, but let’s see how that goes, right honey?” You butted in, to Namjoon’s dismay. Very delicately, like the Disney princess you were not. You sat on the couch, paying no mind to the many diverse types of stains dotting it. Kim Namjoon was not going to ignore you, like you were a nothing but a pretty decoration Jungkook carried around to show off — especially not when you could beat his non-existent genius ass any day during a debate. “Hi, Namjoon. Didn’t see you in class last Wednesday.”

“Hangover.” He explained, taking a bite off a chewy slice of cheese pizza. “I have to confess I am surprised. I thought you were joking when you said you two were—”

“—dating, yes. I’m a married man now, Namjoon. No more getting laid with just anybody.” Jungkook flopped by your side. His hand went immediately towards your naked knee, and there it stayed. Very subtle.

“What do you guys talk about?” Namjoon pried, impertinently. In his timbre you could perceive a hint of disbelief, and it was understandable. He had seen you in action, going after your debate opponents like a shark in bloody waters. Jungkook was, compared to the you he had witnessed, a kindergartener in nappies, and he simply couldn’t comprehend how the two of you could work together — or even compliment each other, honestly.

“Volleyball.” Jungkook said, with an enthusiasm that made your wry smile pathetic. “She loves volleyball.”

Namjoon crackled at the unexpectedly joyful response. “Never seen her in a game.”

“I’m more of a theoretical fan of — of the sports.” Eyes disappearing into the fakest smile, you tried to escape the trap Jungkook had thrown you into. Namjoon was correct. You had not set foot in a court ever since high-school, and even back then you had only done so because it was mandatory. “I have watched Haikyuu at least thrice. I’m an expert.”

“She’ll come to the next one.” Jungkook kissed your cheek, interrupting your excused before it was too late. The touch of his petal-like lips was, at the very least, pleasant. “We made a deal. She wears my jacket and I use the shortest pants I own for the game.”

Namjoon chuckled at the idea, still skeptical. You knew he would be a hard one to convince, since he usually saw through your bullshit — both in debates and in real life.  “Yeah, right,” was all that he managed to say, still dodging your gaze. Oh, you saw what he was doing. Sneaky motherfucker. Sly little snake. By avoiding you and focusing on your fake boyfriend, he was both pressing on the one easier to slip on the lie, and annoying you. He knew how you got when you were hot-headed and that was, once again, a recipe for disaster. “In all seriousness, weeaboo anime aside, what do you… theoretically like about volleyball?”

No eye contact still. Fair. Two could play that game.  

“Physics,” you answered within a heartbeat, almost surprising yourself by how naturally that  response came from in between your lips. Not necessarily a lie, too. But that was a long story. “I told you this already. Volleyball can be explained with high school-level of mechanics. Energy and work, force, projectile motion… You know the deal.”

Namjoon hummed, watching closely the line of cheese that dripped down his pizza. “Yeah, I know the deal,” he told you. He had not bought it. “And I know you know it too. My question is,” he paused, looking up to point at Jungkook. “Does he?”

Well, you just had to know it would backfire like that. Still, you barely had time to feel panic starting to germinate in your throat before Jungkook interrupted the conversation with flawless grace, “Not much, that is why she’s teaching me,” perfect. Simple. Fail proof. You could barely believe that the single neuron that inhabited his mind managed to make a synapsis with itself and come up with that. “Yo, man, why are you so defensive all of a sudden? You’re making my girl uncomfortable.”

My girl. You hated how much you liked that.

His friend hesitated for a second, chewing slowly on the piece of food. It didn’t seem like it was any good. In the very least, it was cold. “Yeah. My bad, dude. Bad week,” Namjoon was quick to apologize, which you did not believe for an instant. He was smarter than that, more arrogant than someone that would so fast admit to his own fault. “Guess I just can’t believe you managed to get a girl like Y/N. Life sucks sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you were the one who asked it, even if both of you were thinking it. It was your turn to try and not to get defensive, but it was getting harder and harder by the second. You crossed your legs, which induced for your red dress to slip up your legs. Namjoon followed the movement, and then his gaze was stuck. Oh. Maybe there was another reason for his lack of eye contact. “Don’t tell me that the great captain Kim Namjoon is suddenly jealous.”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. But you do look hotter than ninety-five percent of the chicks I’ve seen all year,” and then, his next sentences were directed straight at Jungkook. “I don’t know if you had the chance to see it already, man, but she has a great taste for underwear.”

Ninety-five was a good percentile, but you were indeed hot in that dress. Namjoon trembled, almost imperceptibly, when you slid your legs over Jungkook’s lap, to cuddle against his chest. In all honesty, the posture was not comfortable, not in that dress. Had you been back in the dorm, in your PJ’s, the tale would have been completely different; but Namjoon’s expression was a poem — a terrible one, at that — and that was enough satisfaction for the moment.

When you sighed, Namjoon replicated it, in a long-drawled, cheese-scented exhalation. The sound he emitted was pitiful, but it helped you comprehend fully the frustration the poor boy was submitted to, and the ultimate reason behind his pizza binge. His was a severe case of blue balls, and you were the one and only cause it. Cute.

“Namjoon, if you really want to address my exquisite taste in underwear, you can tell me directly,” you said. A thread of cheese remained in precarious equilibrium in between his lower lip and his hand, as he struggled for once to follow your words. The genius had short-circuited over lacy panties and the grossest kind of PDA. Another achievement unlocked in the marvelous experience that was college. It would look beautiful in your curriculum, right beside your volunteer work. “Jungkook is more used to seeing me without it. He wouldn’t understand our fantastic taste.”

“Babe,” Jungkook whined, caressing your thigh to make you cognizant of his presence. “I do love your underwear—”

“—Scattered all over your bedroom.” You whispered in the most impish little voice. By the glance he returned, Jungkook had loved the image. Maybe it was just your imagination, maybe you were in character and your discerning was altered, but you could have sworn his dick had twitched at the thought. Interesting.

To drown his sorrow, Namjoon took yet another slice of pizza. The boy could eat. He was still munching his previous victim, and it was making you hungry. Jungkook was very hot and all, but he had not offered to get you a drink or something to eat. Chivalry was, indeed, dead. “Let me ask you a question, Y/N,” Namjoon murmured in-between greasy bites. “It’ll be easy. I promise.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What is it, exactly, what made you fall for our ace?” Namjoon inquired. It was an unexpected question. A cheerleader could have asked the same, waiting you to offer a bland response in the trite language all popular girls had long mastered like: his big, big eyes; his toothpaste commercial worthy smile, the humongous size of his — not his brain, that was for certain.

But it was not a cheerleader the one to make the question, but Namjoon. Out of all the athletes in the house, Namjoon was the only one you had ever exchanged more than a few words with. Interesting words. The kind that — put together in a coherent sentence — form conversation two functional adults can take pleasure in. “Does he read Whitman to make you sleep?” He pressed further.

Before you could think twice, the words were already departing from your lips. “He rants about your pep-talks, that’s enough to have me snoring in seconds.”

He scoffed. “Nice comeback, it’s a pity that you’ve been avoiding my question like the plague,” Namjoon said in what appeared to be a groan, patience starting to run thin. At last, he appeared to have finished eating his horniness away, for he dropped the last slice of pizza back in the box. “Let me rephrase that, then—”

Next to you, Jungkook fumbled on his seat. “—Namjoon, bro, that’s enough,” he said firmly, almost an order. From the way Namjoon’s eyebrows moved together into a frown, you could tell that such serious demeanor was also uncommon amongst his group of friends. Jungkook was only serious in two situations: during games, and when his white knight complex had been activated. You would guess that was the latter. “I know it’s hard to believe, all right? Even I don’t buy it sometimes. But this is exactly why we didn’t tell you guys earlier, I knew you’d have a blast interrogating my girlfriend. And this is not cool, alright? It’s not cool that you’re over here talking about her underwear and acting like you’d be a total catch compared to me. Fuck that shit, dude, don’t ruin the night for us just because you got some jealousy stuck up your ass.”

Silence. The other boy took a second, then two, to chew what was left on his mouth, closely analyzing his friend. You could see the wheels moving inside Namjoon’s brain and — unlike Jungkook — he had more than one synapsis to make. “Hey, fair enough,” he said. And then he started smiling. Actually smiling. Putting-the-Cheshire-Cat-To-Shame kind of smile. “What has gotten into you tonight, uh? Jesus. I’m just fucking with you, didn’t think you’d get this overprotective. That’s some serious shit you’ve gotten yourself into, Jeon.”

Jungkook seemed to take an instant to fully digest the unforeseen change of demeanor, then joined his friend in his laugh. “Bro, what the fuck? You were annoying as hell,” he was clearly puzzled, even if you could see sheer alleviation in that smile. Oh, honey. He was not acting over there, was he? Poor kid really took that to heart. “Get outta here with that interrogation bullshit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Look at that, you already know one famous victorian character,” Namjoon sarcastically celebrated, turning back at you — still living in the apex of confusion. You should have stayed home and read a book, where men are predictable and fraternity athletes as just a ghost in your memory. “You’ve been a positive influence so far, Y/N, props to that. I’ve been trying to get him to at least watch the movies for ages.”

“He only agreed to watch it once I explained Iron Man featured in it.” Taking advantage of your fake-girlfriend privileges, you slid your hand under Jungkook’s shirt. Fingers dawdling over his warm skin, you delighted in the sensation of his muscles quivering under your touch. It would not be noticeable to Namjoon — although he was particularly sharp that night. Words encompassing your feathery caresses, you murmured into his ear. “I’m thirsty, babe.”

Namjoon looked away when you nuzzled Jungkook’s neck, to bury his jealousy under another pile of cheese.

“Do you want some beer?” Jungkook blinked twice, trying to decipher the sudden change in the inflections of your voice. It was no longer playful, teasing, but dripping something he could have only categorised as desire. Jungkook was dense, enough to miss the a very evident innuendo by a mile. “I can go get you something.”

“No, not that.” Your fingers treaded an undiscovered path towards the lines of his hips, and the hem of his pants. His brain had missed the memo, but his dick was extremely eager to catch up, and was now constricted against his belt. The moment he rose from the couch, the boner would be exposed, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to drag you away from the room and towards his bedroom. “Jungkook… Let’s go.”

“I need to go to the bathroom first.” He excused himself to Namjoon, who had decided to embrace his solitude by hugging the pizza box and returning his attention to the baseball game. His team was losing. Big night for Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook pecked your lips and scurried from below your body. The room was cold now that he had left, and Namjoon was not willing to talk.

“So… pizza, huh?” you said, fixing your clothes. The last thing our brave captain needed was to take another glimpse at your ass.

Namjoon stared into the screen, absorbed by the little figures moving around. It was hard to believe that someone like him could he find baseball so entrancing. “So…Jungkook, huh?”

There it was. Jealousy, in its rawest form. He would never be so explicit in front of Jungkook, they were friends after all, but with you Namjoon could say whatever thoughts crossed his mind. “You know Jungkook isn’t as stupid as he wants all of campus to believe. He might not be a genius like you, but he is smart. He’s just a little bit caught up in the popularity game,” you said. The words leaving your mouth surprised you. Kind words for Jeon Jungkook, what a night to be alive. “Don’t be so surprised, Namjoon.”

The baseball game was no longer as relevant, for Namjoon deigned to look at you. Browns knitted in incredulity, he dropped the last slice of pizza and cleaned his hands in the team jacket. Symbolically, it was not a good thing, but he was probably overdosing on cheese. “I’m not surprised. Maybe you like him, after all.”

“Maybe I do.” You confessed with a quick wink and a guilty smile. “He gives good head, too.”

“That’s too much information.” Namjoon was nauseated, but he would never say it aloud. There was also the possibility that it was not nausea the grimace transfiguring his cute face, but jealousy. “You should go get your boyfriend, though, I think he got lost in his own reflection or something.”

Just like Namjoon had suggested, you followed Jungkook’s trail towards the bathroom. Trail, as in asking the couples making out in the hallway where the bathroom was. The first pair had not responded you, they were too busy sucking each other’s tongues to even form a coherent sentence. Titty in hand, the man in the second pair of lovers, explained where to find the bathroom — that was also known as the knocking shop.

To be fair, you knocked, but the music was too loud and the sound too timid. When you received no indication from Jungkook, you opened the door. At first you could not see past the outrageously pink sink. It was horrifyingly ugly. Jungkook rested against it, his forehead was pressed against the mirror, his warm exhalations creating beautiful designs over the reflective surface. One of his hands gripped tightly the sink, the veins of his arms visible, like rivers you had loved to explore through your fingertips. His other hand was trapped within the confines of his jeans, pressed against his dick. With every sigh and every moan, he would roll his hips against his hand, fucking himself into oblivion. All signs of arrogance vanished from his features when he was about to cum. Vulnerability looked so pretty on him.

You wished there was a joke you could crack, even if to yourself, that could serve as a coping mechanism to whatever the fuck you were being presented with. Still, nothing came out of your lips besides a loud, slightly horrified:

“What the actual fuck, Jungkook?”

[pinkstarbeam]

Plance Transfer student AU

The Holt’s had hosted a transfer student before back during Matt’s senior year, that’s how the family came to know Takashi Shirogane, or Shiro as he liked to be called

Come Pidge’s junior year her parents told her the news that or his senior school year they would be housing a Cuban transfer student named Lance

Pidge didn’t really think anything of this, as long as he didn’t touch her stuff they would probably get along just fine

Come pick up day Pidge stood next to her best friend Hunk who had asked to tag along since Lance would be in his class

“What do you think he’s like? Do you think he is fluent in english? What if he’s rude!? What if-”

“Hunk relax, i’m sure he’s just as nervous as you are.”

“You’re not nervous?”

“Kinda? it’ll just be nice to have someone my age in the house again since Matt left for college.”

As they continued to talk Pidge heard her Dad call out the transfer students name and watched as a admittedly beautiful guy hurried over to them

How were his teeth so white and straight? What was he a colgate model? and he had to be wearing contacts nobody’s were that blue!

“Pidge!” Hunk elbowed her

Pidge came back to earth blinking as she quickly realized she had been staring 

Didn’t help Lance or whatever his name was had a sly smirk on his face

“Lance this is my daughter Katie and her friend Hunk.” Her dad introduced them “Katie likes to go by Pidge though.”

Lance extended his hand to Pidge “It’s nice to meet you, I look forward to the school year.” he spoke clear english, but had a clear accent 

Pidge shook it and Hunk did afterwards

Soon the Holt’s and Lance arrived at their house and while her parents showed Lance the guest room Pidge went to her room and flopped on her bed next to bae bae

“This is gonna be a long school year,”

The next day was the first day of school and since Pidge was in charge of showing him around and helping him out at school she had to endure all the stares and flirting

If Lance told one more girl her eyes were his favorite color she was gonna puke

They finally arrived back at the start

“Okay, now you have my number so if you can’t fine someone to help you just text me.”

“Pidge come on, i’m nearly 18, I got this.”

He didn’t, He texted Pidge five minute after they separated because he couldn’t find his homeroom

Come lunch Pidge softly smushed her face into Keith’s shoulder, her other best friend

“Long day Holt?”

“You don’t know that half of it Kogane.”

“So I take it the new kid is who is living under your roof this year?”

Pidge nodded as she moved back so she could steal a carrot off his tray

“He’s...Something.”

“You can say that again.”

Next thing the two knew Hunk appeared with Lance beside him, Lance looking rather displeased at Keith’s existence 

“Mind if we sit?” Hunk asked

Both nodded and the other two joined them though Lance wouldn’t even spare Keith a glance

“What is this?” Lance as looking down at his plastic wrapped sub

“Oof you grabbed the tuna salad...” Hunk said and both Keith and Pidge mentally pressed F to pay respect

“Is it bad?” he asked

“Let’s just say the last kid that ate it was out sick for a week.”

Yeah Pidge had never seen a kid throw food away in his life 

“Here.” she handed him her bag of chips which he gladly took

Over the next few week Pidge and Lance began to actually get along and even hung our regularly with Hunk and Keith

The evening of Halloween Lance even dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster so he and pidge matched

Come Christmas Lance (with her mother’s help) made a traditional Cuban Christmas dinner

Matt and Lance were like a horrible meme nightmare together and Pidge was thankful his girlfriend was cool to hang out with

Present wise Pidge got Lance a figher pilot jacket which quickly came apart of his everyday look and Lance got Pidge a video game they coudl play together since they had bonded over them the most

On new years eve Pidge stood outside watching fireworks explode whilst a slightly tipsy Lance leaned against her

“Lance get off, if you’re tired go lay on Keith’s couch.”

“Quiero estar contigo..”

“Lance we both know I don’t know Spanish.”

He just grumbled and moved so he was hugged her from behind and rested his chin on her head

sighing pidge let him stay there as they counted down the minute to  new years when something unexpected happened

as pidge yelled 0 to herself she suddenly felt lips connect with her own

She wanted to chew Lance out but he has passes out after the kiss, how convenient for him

Pidge didn’t tell Lance or anyone for that matter what happened that night, not like it would matter, Lance had a crush on Allura, a girl in his grade who honestly was a walking goddess 

As time went on Lance noticed Pidge was distancing herself, however here recently he had got on Allura’s good side was hanging out with her

“Is Pidge mad at me?” Lance asked Hunk

“She hasn’t mentioned anything? Why?”

“She barely talks to be anymore and at home she hides in her room.”

“Well spring break is coming up so maybe try to ask her to hang out then?”

And so he did

But Pidge seemed one step ahead with an excuse

However his chance came the last day of break because it was also Pidge’s 17 birthday meaning she couldn’t hide

The morning came early as Pidge’s parents followed by Lance came in carrying a plate of peanut butter pancakes and singing happy birthday 

Pidge, though half asleep, took the breakfast thanking them

“After you eat get dressed and we’ll head into town okay?”

she just nodded too tired to argue as she rubbed her eyes

Lance stayed in the room after her parents left “Any idea what you want to do today?”

“Why do you care?” Pidge asked as she ate her pancakes

Lance felt his irritation from the last few weeks rising “Because i’m your friend or I thought I was.”

Pidge just rolled her eyes “Oh please. the minute Allura texts you i’ll be invisible to you again, now please go away so I can eat in peace.”

grumbling Lance left the room, but he sat and thought about what she said

Was Pidge...Jealous of Allura? But, why? She didn’t like him that way...right?

The ride into town was awkward as Lance fought every urge to even just look at Pidge

arriving at the mall Pidge’s parents gave her $100 to spend on what she wanted and told the two o them to meet them back the front by noon

After they separated Lance pulled Pidge to the side “Are you jealous of Allura?”

“Excuse me?”

“Earlier you mentioned Allura, why?”

“Am I not allowed to talk about your crush?”

Lance’s cheeks burned as he looked away “Just answer my question.”

“No i’m not jealous of Allura.” she lied

“Then why bring her up?”

“i’m leaving.” Pidge walked off “Don’t follow me.”

Lance sighed as he slumped against the wall

A familiar voice caught his ear

Allura had just walked in the mall and Lance immediately realized what Pidge meant by invisible to him because when Allura asked why e was there it took him a minute to remember he was there for Pidge

He was the worst friend ever

“Lance it’s okay, i’ll help you find her okay?” Allura offered

Lance nodded still feeling guilty

As they walked Lance noticed Pidge’s backpack at a table in the arcade and quickly hurried in calling for her

He seen a crowd of people and headed over to see they were around a DDR machine where low and behold Pidge was dancing along die Keith of all people

except something hit him hard

Pidge was laughing as she hung out with Keith

And that

that made him jealous

he was the jealous one it seemed

When the dance ended Keith was the clear winner as Pidge laughed slumping against the bar

“That’s the last time you pick the song Kogane.”

“Gotta have you exercise somehow.”

“Hey I exercise!”

“Your fingers on your keyboard as you code don’t count Katie.”

Katie...He called her by her real name

Lance cleared his throat and Pidge looked over groaning before spotting Allura and her eyes darkening a bit

“Want a turn?” Keith asked

“Actually I was looking for Pidge, come on Pidge.”

“You’re not my babysitter Lance..”

Allura stepped forward “If I may..Pidge Lance has been looking for you for the last ten minutes.”

“And I told him not to.”

Keith sighed feeling annoyed and took Pidge’s hand pulling her along “Let’s talk about this without so many eyes and ears, you guys are making a scene.”

Soon they were in the arcade’s backroom seeing as Keith worked there

“Now what’s going on?” Keith asked

“Lance thinks i’m jealous of Allura.”

Allura looked confused “of me? Why?”

Lance explained the mention of her earlier this morning

“Pidge do you think Lance favors me over you?”

“I mean he does have a crush on you.”

Lance’s face paled as Pidge realized she had outted him

“Oh..So you have a crush on him?”

Pidge’s face went bright red “I didn’t say that!”

“But if he likes me and you’re upset he puts me over you then-”

“I’m leaving!” Pidge quickly tried to leave but Keith blocked her way

“Pidge just answer the question. Do you like Lance?”

Pidge looked to Lance and then to Allura before looking to the ground and sighing “Even if I do it doesn’t matter, like I said he likes Allura. Now can I go now, this is turning into the worst birthday ever.”

“You like me?” Lance asked

“I..” she sighed “You were tipsy and kissed me on new years eve.” she instinctively held keith back “when you didn’t remember I knew it was an accident, but after that I started to feel weird, especially when you brought up Allura or other girls..”

“Oh God..Pidge i’m-”

“Save it...Keith.”

Keith moved and let Pidge out but blocked Lance from chasing her

“Keith move!” Lance growled

“She needs space right now Lance, if you keep pushing her like this she is gonna hate you.”

And so come noon Pidge  sat at the front with some stuff she bought as she waited on everyone

she kept telling herself she had a little over a month left and Lance would leave and she could sever ties even though it hurt to think about not talking to him ever again

“Hey.” Lance walked up

she didn’t reply as she sipped her coffee

“So..Allura doesn’t like me that way.”

no response still

“But I think I have a new crush..”

“Don’t pity me McClain..”

“Pidge i’m not pitying you..give me a week to prove to you that i’m serious..”

she sighed “Only because if I don’t agree you’ll drag Hunk into this.”

After dinner that night Pidge and Lance went on a walk, Lance giving Pidge his jacket when she shivered

“You do realize you’re going back to Cuba next month right..’?”

“I do, I just..I like being with you..being near you.”

“..You told me the same thing on new years eve in Spanish, at least I think, I googled what I thought you said.”

“Well drunk Lance had that part right, though I shouldn’t have forced a kiss on you, that was wrong.”

she nodded as she pulled the jacket closer to her “...I didn’t hate it..”

“What?”

“The kiss, I didn’t hate it..”

“..Could I kiss you for real?”

She gave a small nod and the two shared their first kiss under a streetlamp that was turning on above them

The next month was full of cute sappy date things that they squeezed in between studying or final and Lance sending in college applications

However come summer it was time for Lance to return home to Cuba where his family was eagerly awaiting his return

Pidge stood quietly aside Matt and her Mom as she watched her Dad help Lance load his luggage into the family car

Lance looked to Pidge and immediately noticed she was ready to cry the moment nobody was watching

He walked over and pulled her into a tight hug “This isn’t goodbye Katie, I promise.”

tears ran down her face as she hugged him tightly “You better come back you jerk..”

he wiped her eyes before kissing her head “Of course, can’t let Keith beat my DDR score.”

She glared about to say something when Lance knelt and whispered in her ear

“Te amo.”

[rainyrowan]

London With You | Chapter 1

AN: hey everybody! i came up with this idea during the holidays, but never really got around to finishing it. but here we are, a month (late)r and i continued it! tbh, i hoped for this story to become a one shot. however, it eventually exceeded the one shot word count limit of 3,000. so, think of this as a short multi-chap story! i hope you enjoy reading this and i’ll see y’all in chapter 2!!

description: An au set 8 years after the Matthews’ moved from New York to London. At this point, Riley's a thriving 22-year-old woman who’s on her own, especially during this Christmas season. That is, until a young Lucas friar stumbles upon her apartment building.

pairings: riley x lucas

word count: 1,959

The cold December atmosphere fills the air, as Lucas Friar strolls through the streets of London.

He’s been walking for 30 minutes straight with one large duffle bag and at this point, no sense of direction given that his uncharged cell phone means lacking a GPS. With that, it takes all of his brain power to remember the address Asher had sent him.

It’s safe to say that this is probably one of his worsts nights. Nearly freezing to death is something he definitely does not need at the moment.

After a while, he finally stumbles upon a tall building with a name so familiar that he decides to take his chances and see if it’s the right one.

The front desk manager smiles as he sees Lucas entering the building.

“Good evening, Sir! How may I help you?” He says, still offering a bright smile.

“I was just wondering if Asher Garcia lives here?”

“Hold on, give me one sec.” The manager scurries onto his desktop and does a quick search.

“Alright, is this him?” He tilts the monitor in Lucas’ direction.

His eyes widen as he sees a photo of his friend and lets out a sigh of relief. “Yes!”

“Okay, cool! His apartment number would be 498 and that’s on level 4.”

“Thank you so, so much.”

“No problem at all! You have a great rest of your night, sir!”

Lucas flashes a slight grin at him as he heads towards the elevator doors. He hops into one of them whilst thinking about how lucky he was when finding the right building.

When he reaches the 4th floor, it didn’t take him long to find his room. Although, when gets there, he spots an envelope with his name on it, taped to the door. Lucas yanks it out and reads what it says.

Hey Buddy--

I’m so sorry about what happened with Missy. I knew you should’ve left her while you still could.  But hey, I’m not writing this letter to prove you wrong for dating that stuck-up bitch.  (Saving that for when I actually get to see you in person *wink*) I’m writing this because a family emergency came up, and I won’t be home until after the holidays. My deepest apologies! In the meantime, you can still crash at my place. I cleaned it all up for you and left a key underneath the ‘Welcome’ mat.

You make yourself feel at home now. See you soon.

Regards,

Asher.

Although Lucas was bummed out that Asher isn’t home, he didn’t necessarily saw this as that big of an issue since he just needed a place to stay. That is, until he unfolded the welcome mat to find that no key was there.

A tired sigh escapes his mouth. “Great.”

He slides down against the wall, trying to figuring out what he’s supposed to do next. He’s pretty much homeless until Asher comes back, which definitely worries him.

Seconds later, one of the apartment doors open and a woman steps out. She’s quite tall and was also dressed in athletic wear. Although, what really gave Lucas a sense of familiarity was her long brown waves. After locking her door, she turns around, enabling Lucas to practically go out of his mind.

“Riley?!”

Riley offers a double take, before exchanging the exact same reaction. “Lucas?”

Lucas couldn’t believe it. He scrambles to his feet and walks towards her.

They haven’t seen each other in ages, ever since her mother revealed that she decided to transfer to London to take up her promotion. Lucas never thought he’d see Riley ever again.

“Oh my god, hi!!” She gives him a tight squeeze. “What are you doing here in London?”

His smile slightly fades away. “If I’m being honest, I’m kind of in a crisis right now.”

She frowns. “What? How come?”

“Well, it’s a really long story.”

“Good thing I practically have all the time in the world. Do you have someplace to be?”

He laughs. “Nope. Definitely not.”

“Alright, you can crash at my place for a bit... How ‘bout that?”

“That’d be wonderful, but don’t you have someplace to be? You were just about to leave.”

“Well, I don’t really have much going on. If anything, I felt productive tonight and decided to go to the gym downstairs. But that can wait!” She smiles, unlocking her door.

Riley leads him inside, and he instantly notices the smell of cinnamon lingering through the air the moment he steps in.  Once he gets a good look at everything, he also realizes how minimalistic and neat her apartment was. She had grey walls and light-wood floors. In Lucas’ opinion, this interior design didn’t seem to match the personality of the girl he had once knew. Taking in his surroundings, he thinks about how much she’s grown since then.

Although, he still feels this familiar sense of safety. Home. He always has around her. Despite all that happened in the past couple of years, that apparently didn’t seem to change.

“So, this is my apartment. It ain’t all that big, so my apologies there.” Riley explains.

“No, I really like it. It’s quite cozy if you ask me.”

“Aw, well I’m glad to hear that! Oh, I’ve got to show you something!” She grabs his wrist and drags him into what appears to be her room.

Lucas gasps as he sees it. “No way.” Across from them lies a white bay window, similar to what Riley had growing up.

“This bay window was actually the reason why I got this apartment.” She then slightly frowns, “Too bad I don’t have anyone to share it with me.”

Lucas turns to Riley. “Maya?”

“How is she? We lost contact in a sophomore year.”

“Well, that’s because she made new best friends around sophomore year.” He scoffs, “They go by drugs, alcohol, partying, and Zay.”

Riley’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding. Zay too?”

He shakes his head. “We all tried so hard to stop them.”

At this point, she starts walking over to the bay window. Lucas trails behind her.

“What happened after?” She asks, taking a seat.

“Our whole gang pretty much fell apart after that. Too many fights and arguments went on constantly. Things were just too toxic.” He pauses. “In that very moment, I realized how fucked up we all were without you.”

“I--” Riley couldn’t seem to process what she had just heard. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry--”

Lucas stops her. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. As a matter of fact, I think they’re all doing pretty well currently. I haven’t been speaking to them, but rumor has it, Maya eventually ended up getting an art scholarship to CalArts.”

A smile creeps back onto her face. “Really? That’s good.”

The both of them spend the next couple hours catching up on the time that they’ve missed together. Lucas further discusses what’s been going on with the rest of the gang, even though he’s not entirely sure if his information is accurate since he’s only been hearing about them through other people.

Riley talks about her career and accomplishments. Turns out, she ended up majoring in journalism and became a fashion journalist at British Vogue. Like always, Riley never fails to keep Lucas in awe of her.

“That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you, Riles.” Promptly, the sound of Lucas’ stomach grumbling interrupts her, leaving her laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He laughs.

“It’s okay! C’mon, let me make you dinner.” Riley says as they head on over to her kitchen.

Lucas takes a seat on the bar stools behind the island, while she rummaged in her fridge.

“I wasn’t expecting a visitor today, therefore I didn’t really go out and buy groceries… All I have is Instant Ramen Noodles. Is that fine with you? Or if you want, I can go out real quick to get some food.” Riley offers.

“That’s fine. Do you need any help?”

“I can take it from here. Thanks, though.”

He takes a seat at her bar stool as she pours a pot of boiling hot water onto both ramen bowls. She then places one in front of Lucas whilst sitting next to him.

“So… You wanna tell me how you wounded up here?”

Lucas laughs in spite of himself. “Alright.”

“You see, around senior year of high school I ended up dating, well, Missy Bradford.”

Hearing this, Riley stops attending to her food and turns to him. “Huh, really?”

Lucas throws his hands up in surrender and drops his head down. “Look, I don’t really know what I was thinking but-”

“Lucas.” Riley interrupts. “It’s okay.”

He sighs. “But hey, during that time I was accepted to UC Davis as a veterinary major.”

“Wait, so you’re a-?

“Yes, Riley. I’m a veterinarian.” He says smiling.

Things obviously took a positive turn at this point, given that Riley hops off her seat to offer him an embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

She thought back to when they were both at middle school and they had to work on a project about human connection for their history class. She remembered how they shared their very first connection when he told her that he wanted to become a veterinarian. It was a secret. The fact that he never told anyone, but her, meant the whole world to Riley. Even as much as hearing that Lucas actually is one right now.

“Thanks, Riles. But anyways, I was able to pursue my dream and once I graduated college, it’s like everything went at about a hundred miles per hour.” Lucas rambles on about how he was mainly stationed in California.

“About a month ago, they moved me here in London. And since I was still dating Missy during this time, she came up with the idea of moving into one of her father’s apartments just a couple blocks away from here, actually. I wish I could’ve called you or something. It would’ve made moving here so much easier.” He chuckles.

Riley drops her head down. “I can’t believe it. You were here for a whole month. You didn’t live too far away either. If only we kept in touch…”

“I know right? But hey, we’re here now. So, it’s fine.”

She looks back up at him and offers him a gentle smile. “Lucas, why were you seated in the hallway earlier?”

“We were just always fighting. I would have to come home every single day to her being such a pain in the ass. Coming home to a very toxic household isn’t that easy, Riley.” He pauses. “Especially when you come home to see another guy with her.”

Riley’s eyes widen. “She was cheating on you?”

“Yeah. This just happened two days ago, Riles. I had to leave. Miss just wasn’t worth it anymore. She never was. I packed my essentials, booked a hotel, and just left.”

“I always knew she was bad news.” She mentions, shaking her head.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Missy eventually kicked me out. Luckily though, my friend Asher offered a room at his apartment. It’s just a few doors away, actually. But he won’t be back for a while. Something came up and he had to leave.”

Riley’s eyes widen. “Asher Garcia? He lives in this building?” Lucas nods.

“I should really be getting out more!” She laughs. “But hey, you know you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I have a spare bedroom, you can stay there in the time being.”

Now it’s Lucas’ turn to give Riley a hug. “Thank you.”

[trash0lympus]

I Knew You When 1a - Malec fic

So this is just a very early draft of the first scene of the first chapter, but I've made some progress and I wanted to share!  Magnus isn't going to appear for quite a while, I'm sorry.

Title: I Knew You When

Pairing: Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane

Warnings: Some swearing, puberty, light homophobia

Summary: Alec is starting his senior year in less than a month and if he can't find a way to deal with this insomnia he's never going to make it through the year.

Or: The one where Alec and Magnus have the same therapist, meet in the waiting room, and kind of stalk each other for a while.

ONE - Somnambulate

August, 2007

Alec can't sleep. It's nothing unusual, to have his thoughts swirling around in a sickening downward spiral of anxieties. It's the same invasive thoughts he spends his days distracting himself from, only to have them assault him in the safety of his bed.

He rolls over for the hundredth time and punches his pillow in hopes of getting out some of his anger about still being awake at 3:05am, a good four hours after he'd laid down for the night.

It's always the same, a veritable hurricane/tsunami/? On the variation of the theme not good enough/repulsive/worthless/no one would miss you if you weren't around.

Alec punches his pillow again, then throws his face into it and lets out a small scream of frustration. He doesn't have to worry about anyone overhearing, since Izzy and Max sleep like the dead, and his parents' master suite is at the opposite end of the apartment. He drags in a deep breath, meant to calm the frantic staccato his heart is playing in his chest, and keeps his eyes closed while he lets the sounds of New York drifting through his window wrap him in familiarity.

His senior year is starting in less than a month, and Alec is already starting to feel like the might crack under the pressure, his father's voice echoing in his head as a steady beat, 'this is the most important year of your life, Alec. Getting into law school is your only priority. You'll be a Yale man, just like your father'. Or, even worse, his mother: 'Columbia is an amazing school Alec, I spent the best years of my life there, you could be something great if you'd simply apply yourself'.

He needs to deal with this, or he's going to finish his senior year in tatters, his former face cut away to spite his former nose. And as impressive as that college entrance essay might be, he's not sure there's any special admission allowances for partial humans.

Alec snorts at the delirious image his brain conjures at the thought, and then presses his face as deeply into his pillow as possible and groans.

He's going to have to tell his mother. Dad would never understand, his world consisting only of the endless parade of 'get up, go to work, eat dinner, sleep, get up, go to work' - a monotonous, nauseatingly infinite loop of responsibility that Alec can't even conceive of. No, it will have to be mom. Alec can tell her that he isn't sleeping, and he won't have to explain to her the true depth of what's keeping him up most nights, and with how busy she's been since formally accepting a teaching position at Columbia last month, she probably won't care enough to ask any follow-up questions.

With a defeated sigh Alec sits up in his bed and throws off the sheets, knowing that he'll never be able to relax enough to fall asleep now that he's started this train of thought. He needs to make a plan of what to tell Maryse in the morning. Maybe if stayed up the rest of the night it might help his case? If he looks as exhausted as he truly feels the she couldn't possibly say no to his request for some kind of sleeping pills, or really anything. Alec would be willing to try hypnotic suggestion at this point. He's always been a bit of a night owl, too caught up in his own thoughts to shut down when everyone else seemed to, but it's one thing to be getting less sleep than everyone else, and quite another to be getting none. He only hopes his mother doesn't dismiss his concerns as his usual problems dropping into sleep, that she simply makes a call to their family doctor and continues not to look too closely at him.

Robert and Mayrse Lightwood are by no means neglectful parents, but in the last few years they have certainly begun to shift some of their parental burdens onto Alec himself. Robert finally made partner at his firm when Alec was 14, and a few years later Mayrse had offered a position as guest lecturer at Columbia Law, her alma mater. Just last week a formal offer had been made to her to join the faculty in a permanent position, and while Alec had never seen his mother happier, she had been so busy she was barely home at all anymore. With Max being just nine-years-old, and Izzy still 15, that meant Alec was in charge of making sure they stayed out of trouble, went to school on time, and completed their school work. His senior year came with both a blessing, and a curse, however. His parents had made two announcements during a rare family dinner last night: firstly, they had decided that Max was now old enough to start spending the weekdays living in the dorms at his boarding school; secondly, Jace would be moving in with them for the school year.

Jace is Alec's best friend - well, his only friend really. It's too pathetic to even consider Izzy as his friend, seeing as she's a sophomore, not to mention his little sister. But Jace, a year younger, and the golden boy of their school, has been by his side since their first meeting when Alec was 11. Jace had just been adopted by the Waylands. He was quiet, but not sullen, and Alec remembers the strange way that his eyes seemed drawn to Alec just as Alec couldn't keep his own from seeking out Jace. They would spend that first meeting sitting in silence in Robert's study, Alec pretending to read and Jace staring at him while making a poor mimicry of investigating the knick-knacks and awards on his father's bookshelves. It was at school that first week Jace had been transferred in that Jace had come up to him in the yard at recess. Alec had been sitting under a tree, trying to enjoy the last of the weakening September sunshine with his latest book in hand when a shadow had loomed over him and blocked his light. It was Jace.

"You don't have any friends," he has said. Not accusingly, just flat, like he was reciting a fact. Two time two is four, two times three is six, Alec Lightwood doesn't have any friends.

Alec had scowled, but responded simply with "no," and sent a challenging glare at Jace.

It had the opposite effect than he'd anticipated, and he was momentarily baffled when Jace just huffed out a small breathy chuckle.

"Okay," was all Jace had said, and all but threw himself onto the ground beside Alec. "You can be mine then".

And that had been it. Jace would show up next to him at every recess, sought him out at lunch and ate beside him. After a few weeks Alec had snapped and asked him why.

Jace had shrugged and said, "your eyes. You don't tell lies, but your eyes say what your voice doesn't".

It's been nearly eight years since then, and Alec still isn't really sure what Jace meant, but he's never been comfortable examining the reasons why a ten-year-old Jace had already known to read people so well. He was the first person to see Alec, and if he was going to be living with them for the next year Alec didn't know how he was going to keep everything together, to keep his secrets locked away where Jace couldn't read them in his eyes, couldn't see it written all over his face.

Alec figured it out for real at 13, during one of the countless sleepovers when they're wrestling like they always do, but this time Alec really enjoys it. He goes so quickly from tussling on the floor with Jace to running through the bathroom door and locking it behind him. He's terrified that Jace felt it and he's willing himself not to panic. He's had the talk by now, even had a sex-ed class at school, and he tells himself that it was just hormones. It doesn't mean anything, it has nothing to do with Jace, he just got too excited, a little over-stimulated. Almost convinces himself it's true until he has the dream. It was all Jace's flashing eyes, his smile and his chest and his arms around Alec and when he woke up his pajamas and sheets were ruined. He had stuffed them into the garbage chute before anyone woke up. From then on when Jace stayed over they didn't share a bed.

He starts to base most of his decisions on a creeping paranoia of being discovered. He knows, without a doubt, that his parents would not like this, and while he can't put his finger on what it is about him that's different, he knows that it's wrong.

He starts trying to pay attention to the girls in his grade, and panics when he realises that he should have already noticed them. Jace is a year younger than he is and he's been talking about girls for ages.

That was the year before high school. When he started ninth grade he planned to keep flying under the radar, but his parents insisted he needed to participate in extracurriculars for his college applications. He tried to argue that he could volunteer in the library, take extra AP courses, or get summer internships, and while they agreed he should still do all those things they believed a sport would create a more well rounded application. It was the first time they had implied he wasn't quite enough on his own. He'd chosen archery only because the club was small, and he thought that at least it would be easier to hide away in a corner of the locker room inconspicuously while they changed, to lag behind and shower last.

Alec dragged his hands roughly over his face, feeling exhaustion clawing at his body while his mind churned, considering and discarding ways he might bring up the topic with his mother in the morning. His bare feet hit the hardwood floor of his bedroom and he decided a hot shower might be the thing to clear his head, or at least pass some time while he waiting for his family to wake up. There was nothing to do until then but wait.

--