#technically still got an hour to try and raise my grades up a bit but like Hah i give up

[wifeofwandamaximoff]

The Student and Professor

Pairings: Professor!Nat x Student!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: The love story of a professor and student.

Author's note: The reader is in college so they will be 18+ and so will be Nat. Thank you so much @natashaswife4125 for the request and I enjoyed writing this and I hope you do too!

"Y/n?" Wanda said while waving her hand in front of my face. I then get out of my daze seeing students start coming in lecture room.

I sigh while looking at my English professor. Staring at her from the farthest part of the room. My best friend sitting right next to me still waving her hand in my face to get my attention.

"She's so pretty." I said, getting lost in my head. Making a bunch of different scenarios in my head about me and my English professor.

Wanda then hit me on the side of my head hard, making me fall back in my chair making a loud noise. Which caused Professor Romanoff to look in our direction with a raised eyebrow.

I then quickly got up and shot daggers at Wanda.

"Hey you were in your own world, that was the only way to get you out!" Wanda said trying to defend herself. I just said nothing but stare at her. I then roll my eyes and turned forward, seeing Professor Romanoff eyeing us with a raised eyebrow.

The bell the rung, signaling that the lesson was about to begin. Professor Romanoff started teaching her lecture.

As a fourth year student at NYU taking a Law degree. I was given a choice between English Literature or Administrative Law. I didn't want to take Administrative law again so I chose English Literature. Which was the best decision of my life because now I have a hot professor until the end of the semester.

Wanda then rolled her eyes when she saw my looking at the professor. She hit me in the back of the head while saying;

"Stop eye fucking our professor and focus on ur work." She whisper shouted.

I jolted at her slap on my head. Turning my head towards her with daggers in my eyes.

"Fine, but stop fucking hitting me!" I whisper shouted. Wanda said nothing but started taking notes on what Professor Romanoff was saying.

Once the lesson was I was still taking last minute notes, Wanda had already left to rush to her next lesson. The students started leaving and soon enough I was the only student left in the lecture room.

Trying to make the notes look perfect, I erased some words to make it look better. I then felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Professor Romanoff standing right behind me.

"Professor?" I said confusingly. I eyed her hand on my shoulder and then back up to her face which had a slight smile.

"Y/n, I was just curious of why u and Wanda were laughing in the beginning of class, I usually see zero happiness in this class since im quite strict." Professor questioned me curiously.

I then started feeling hot, her hand on my shoulder and trying to think up and answer for her question. Anything besides dreaming about us being together.

"I was just telling Wanda about my crush!" I said with a small smile. I mean I didn't technically lie so I should be fine.

Her face fell just a bit, she removed her hand from my shoulder.

"Ah, okay then." She said before walking off, descending the stairs and going to her desk to grade stuff.

I was puzzled at her change of behavior. I decided to just quickly finish my notes and leave the lecture hall. I then gather my things and quickly leave the lecture hall but before I left I felt Professor's Romanoff eyes burning hole in my head.

Hours later I was on campus going into a cafe right next to my dorm. The bell rung signaling that a customer came in. I waited a bit since there was a small line.

I heard the bell ring and I turned around to see Professor Romanoff entering the cafe. It was then my turn to order and I ordered some hot chocolate and paid.

Professor Romanoff order a hot chocolate as well. She then stood right next too me making me start to get nervous.

My hot chocolate was ready so I grabbed it when I felt another warm hand on my own. I turned to look and see Ms. Romanoff also reaching out to grab the hot chocolate. I then froze not knowing what to do.

" My apologies Y/n, I thought it was mine." Apologized Ms. Romanoff. She then took her hand off of mine which saddened me a bit.

"Its alright u can have it, Ill just wait since u probably have somewhere to rush to." I said, offering my hot chocolate.

"Detka, I have nowhere to go. Im in no rush I can wait." Ms. Romanoff explained. When she called me "Dear" , I started to feel butterflies in my stomach.

"No, its alright!" I hastily said. All of a sudden they call out that another hot chocolate was ready. I then quickly grab the hot chocolate. I give her mine of which she confused as hers. Since the one made was quite hot so I gave her the one that cooled down a bit.

"Thank u detka!" Ms. Romanoff said happily. I give her a small smile before leaving the cafe. A huge smile on my face. All of a sudden I felt a hand on my shoulder. A familiar touch.

"Ms.Romanoff?" I questioned once I turned around and saw her.

"Would u like to hangout Y/n? I have nothing to do for the rest of the day." Asked Ms. Romanoff. I felt like I was in a dream. My crush asking me to hangout!??! The best day of my life truly.

"S-sure Ms.Romanoff!" I said a bit too quickly. Ms. Romanoff giggled a bit.

"Call me Nat outside of class detka." Ms. Romanoff told me. Pretty name for pretty lady. I nod at her request. We then start walking out of campus and into a busy street after walking for a while. Talking a bit on the way.

Ive learned some new things about Nat. She has a cat name Liho, a sister name Yelena who loves Mac and cheese with hot sauce. Her favorite colors are black and red and she sucks at cooking.

We then arrived at a shop that sold some clothing.

"Nat, Im gonna go in and look at the clothing if that fine. You can go shop around this area." I told her. She then turned around and raised an eyebrow at me.

"We've come here to hangout Im not abandoning you. Ill come along with you alright detka?" She told me sternly, leaving zero room for argument's.

I just nod my head while entering the clothing store. I was then greeted with a smell of flowers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a cute top that was white. It would show a lot my cleavage if I wore it and some stomach.

I walked towards it, I felt like it was luring me towards it. Nat was following me, curious of what I was doing. She then saw what I was walking towards.

"Nat look at this cute top!" I squealed in delight of finding such a cute top.

"It is indeed detka, but you can't wear that at school. But I know you would absolutely beautiful in that top." She said with a smile adorning her face. I felt my cheeks start to heat up from the compliment. I then decided this is a must have top so I quickly paid for it and dragged Nat out of the store.

Hours later it was dark. Lights adorning some buildings lighting up parts of the streets. I was holding some ice cream that me and Nat had just bought from a small ice cream vendor.

We were laughing and chatting on the way back to campus. I then looked up at the stars, getting mesmerized by them. I stop walking, staying silent. Nat realizing that I wasn't by her side made her worried for me until she saw me sitting on the grass staring at the stars.

"Its really beautiful tonight isn't it?" She questioned me softly. I just nod at her question.

I then feel her hand under my chin, she then turned my head around to face her's. I then looked at her confused.

She then leaned in and softly kissed me. I was frozen in shock not reregistering the kiss but before I could return it she pulled away.

"I-im sorry! I-i shouldn't have done that!" Nat rushed out quickly. She started to stand up but I grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

I then made her sit down and cup her face with both of my hands making her face squish a little. I then leaned in and kissed her passionately. I then felt her returning the kiss.

We pulled away when air was desperately needed. Our foreheads touching.

"I really like you Y/n..." She whispered to me softly. I pulled away and looked at her with a sparkle in my eyes.

"I like you too Nat, ever since I first saw you..." I said giggling at the end a bit.

"So was I your little crush that Wanda was talking about?" She asked me teasingly. I just nodded, tucking my face in her neck so she wouldn't see me blushing. She slowly pulled my face out of her neck to make me face her directly.

She then kissed me one more time. Marking that start of our love story, and the best chapter of my life.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Flufftober - Day 2

2 - Sneaking Out Together

@prompts-in-a-barrel prompt in bold. Written for @flufftober2021 's event.

Pairing: Loki x Stark!reader

Tags: fluff, fluff FLUFFFFFFF (this is flufftober, of course there’ll be fluff). A tiny tiny bit of angst in the beginning (if you really squint) and maybe… maybe some father issues as well. I’m not discussing this with my therapist.

Word count: 1,2K

A/N: Listen. There isn’t an actual “sneaking out” because technically it isn’t. But it’s the most similar thing it could be, and honestly I like how it ended up.

Gif not mine.

“There was only one rule you had to follow”, started Tony Stark, in front of fucking everyone. The whole team was in there, and you wanted to bury your face in your arms, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t because if there was one thing you’d never lose, it was your dignity. So, you sat right, with your eyes directly on your father’s as he kept going on how bad it was what you had just done. “Just one rule about dating. What have I told you?”.

“Don’t get in trouble”, you repeated, the phrase already memorized. “You know, I don’t see what the big deal is about. I never got in trouble, and I’m not a little kid anymore, you can’t actually control my dating life”.

“As long as you live under my roof, you can’t date criminals. No, wait. As long as you’re an Avenger, for moral stuff, you can’t date criminals”.

“Firstly, he’s not a criminal. Secondly, I only live with you because I’m an Avenger. Thirdly, we’re not dating”.

“Are we not?”, inquired Loki from the doorframe. You shot a panicked look over him, and calmed yourself down as you saw his teaseful smirk showing across his face.

“Can we talk alone?”, you asked, and Tony and you walked out of the room to talk in the corridor. “I just… I just want you to support me, dad. That’s all I ever wanted”, you said, lowering your voice and head, knowing all of your confidence had faded away as soon as he looked at you with that disappointed look he’s always looked at you with.

“I can support you in many things, dear. I really do. I love your work in the science projects you’re doing… and your new friends are great, and I know how hard it is for you to socialize”, you sighed, and looked at him knowingly, because if your relationship could be described in a phrase, it definitely was “not the point I’m trying to make”.

“But?”.

“But how can I support you when you’re making a huge mistake?”.

You sighed in frustration and wiped a tear away.

“If you think being around him is a mistake then why did you even let him in the team to begin with? Why didn’t you just refuse Thor's demand of keeping him here? You know me, you knew I’d get attached”.

“So, you’re admitting you’re dating?”.

“Yes, we are something. Maybe not dating. I don’t know what we are”.

“Oh, what a great way to tell me you’re fucking. Great, nice. I love to hear that my little…”.

“No, not your ‘little-something’, dad. I’m an adult now. So take it or leave it. This is what’s happening, and whether you like it or not, Loki is actually really nice to me. He’s a gentleman, he treats me right, he’s all the Prince Charming you’d think an actual prince is”.

“Just… do me a favor and don’t lie for him, would you? He’s got that much already on him”.

“I’m not lying”, you looked at him defiantly, yet with that tenderness he always saw in you, even as a little kid.

Tony sighed, knowing you were honest.

“Please, don’t let him take your goodness away”.

That same night you couldn’t sleep. You rolled around in your bedsheets, grasping to them for your dearest dreams, but anxiety won, once again. You thought of your studies, your homework, your grades. You thought of your father and your dating life. You thought of Loki. You thought of him way too often. You knew —you were sure— you had fallen irremediably in love with him.

Who wouldn’t? He truly was prince charming.

Speaking of which, you heard a soft knocking at your window. You got up from bed and covered yourself up with a blanket, walking to see who was calling you at such late hours of the night.

The moonrays shone brightly and they were the only way you could see around; otherwise, it would be only darkness. Nights were better now, and Loki was in there, waving hello with that big smile of his, looking up at you as if he were Romeo. He truly was.

You smiled back and opened your window, looking around for any sign of your parents or Jarvis’s cameras being a bitch, and when there wasn’t any, you finally rested your elbows on your window frame and gave him the dreamy eyes he loved to be stared at with.

“My little love?”, he called in a whisper, yet you could still hear it.

“Dear”, you called him back. “Why are you awake?”.

“I can’t sleep without you”, he said, and you smiled involuntarily. Maybe your feelings weren’t so out of place after all. Maybe he felt the same way, and the only thing in your way was your dad and his prejudices.

“Really?”, you laughed softly, and he laughed too.

“Why are you awake, pray tell?”.

“Thoughts”.

“Of what?”.

“Of who, you may say”, you said, and he raised his eyebrows, wondering. “Of you, of course. And of my school books, that’s for sure”.

“Love and anxiety, all in one big package”, he said, and you rested your head over the heels of your hand. Did you just admit your love for him? And did he take it well? “I think it’s only fair for me to invite you to the library. The one from the compound is open at any time, right?”.

“Is this a study date at 4am?”.

“Darling, your idea of romanticism is so nerdy”, he laughed. “But if you may call it a date, then I’ll bring the candles”, he added, appearing a rose in his hand. “Shall I quote Shakespeare, too? Or is it enough for…?”.

“Well, no need to mock me, now”, you chuckled, while reaching for your clothes. “Meet you there?”.

“I’ll be there in a second, quite literally”, he said right before vanishing under a veil of green lights.

The night was spent with chattery over homework, with fun illusions he made in his hands, playing games and kissing —a lot. The night was spent so much, tiredness finally fell over you two, and before you could even realize, the sun had bathed both of your sleepy figures bent over the table, head resting over your arms. Loki was right in front of you and his legs intertwined with yours under the table. Books spread everywhere, you even used some as pillows. Not even once, you realized someone could walk in the library and let everyone know where you were last night.

And, as said, Tony and Pepper walked nonchalantly into the study area of the library, only to find you two sleeping over a pile of undone homework. You still had the rose behind your ear and a smile you wouldn’t be able to wipe off even awake. Pepper smiled and looked at Tony, who was staring in realization.

“They seem… good together”.

“You could even say happy? Good for each other?”, hinted Pepper, fighting back a giggle.

“Maybe… maybe they were right after all. I could give the guy a chance”, he nodded, rolling his eyes. “Now, let’s get those papers and close the curtains, they seem like they just fell asleep”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite )

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona  – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

--

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

-

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation. 

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out. 

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy. 

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating. 

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked. 

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

-

Forward, huh?

An understatement. 

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions. 

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly. 

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject. 

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh. 

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead. 

"Calculus I question?" was your response. 

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop. 

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you. 

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up. 

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face. 

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath. 

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue. 

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips. 

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far. 

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes. 

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back. 

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek. 

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply. 

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position." 

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you. 

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it. 

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook. 

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed. 

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore. 

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

-

part ii

--

masterpost

[tennessoui]

if you wrote obikin for #4 with anakin as a single parent and obi-wan as luke and leia's teacher i would simply die happy!!

here it is!!! thank you so much!

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU (modern!AU)(DinLuke shows up as little kids)(2.4k)(whoops)

Anakin stares across the table at Luke, who gnaws on a slice of grilled cheese, carefully leaving the crusts behind. Oh god, he’d forgotten to cut them off of Luke’s sandwich, had cut them off of Leia’s instead, even though she didn’t mind them. And of course they hadn’t told him either. He can’t tell if he’s been forgiven for his error or if it will come back to haunt him later tonight when he tries to put the twins to bed at eight.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I think I’m just a little confused.”

Leia looks up. She loves when her father is a little confused because it means Luke is probably a bit in trouble and she gets to be the one to set the record straight for him.

Which isn’t to say Leia is a tattle-tale. Anakin’s seen her watch Luke hit another child upside the head with a toy train and then say absolutely nothing when questioned by the daycare instructor.

Daddy’s interrogations are just a special case where she can become a guilt-free turncoat.

“How did you get a Unicorn sticker in art class?” he asks.

The Unicorn stickers, of course, mean unsatisfactory.

He pays extra money for his children to be coddled and kept away from words like Fail and Unsatisfactory, even though that’s what all the parents know the stickers mean. As long as the children don't yet.

“And I don’t understand the rainbow sticker at all,” he continues helplessly, regarding the piece of artwork in front of him, where a handful of dried macaroni noodles are lacklusterly glued to the page.

“The Unicorn sticker means it was bad, but the rainbow sticker means that Mr. Kenobi forgives him,” Leia pipes up, leaning across the table to take the icky crusts from her brother’s plate and dipping them into her tomato soup.

“But it was dry macaroni,” Anakin says incredulously. Luke’s eyes start getting misty as he stares resolutely down at his plate. That’s the last thing Anakin wants. But he just doesn’t understand. Luke’s the most creative of both of his children, has seemed to take after Anakin in that way. Last Christmas, Anakin had given him a model train set that he’d put together inside of a week. If he can do that, he can do a self-portrait in dry macaroni.

“He gave Din all of his noodles,” Leia reports.

“Didn’t Din have any?” Anakin asks, feeling completely out of his element and also sort of like a detective trying to solve a cold case.

“He wanted to save them for his puppy,” Luke mumbles. “They just got him and they can’t figure out what he eats, so Din thought he could try macaroni because I told him I like macaroni and cheese a lot.”

Anakin is on the cliff of despair, but he can’t exactly ask whether or not this Din knows there’s a difference between the dried macaroni from art class and boxed macaroni and cheese from Kraft. He’s not sure he even wants to know the answer.

“And then Luke didn’t have a lot left for his picture,” Leia finishes the story and her soup in one fell swoop.

“Couldn’t you have asked Mr. Kenobi for more?” Anakin asks Luke who shakes his head but doesn’t seem to want to elaborate. Anakin turns only slightly pleading eyes to Leia, who is the expert on anything her brother doesn’t want to say.

“Mr. Kenobi sits at the front, and Luke sat at the back today so it was really far.”

“But you always sit at the front!” Anakin says, appalled. Sure, he hadn’t managed to make it to the most recent round of parent-teacher conferences due to an unfortunately timed shift at the garage, but he knows where his kids sit in a classroom.

Luke mumbles something into his bowl.

“What was that?” Anakin asks.

Leia translates. “Din doesn’t sit at the front,” she says.

Anakin sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his mouth. Luke has a crush. His son, Luke, has his very first crush on a boy and he’s already doing stupid things in order to see the boy. Oh no. Oh god. Of all the things to take after Anakin on, it’s this one.

“Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Unicorns aren’t so bad.”

“Way better than giraffes,” Leia tells her brother bracingly, seeming to know instinctively that the gossiping part of this conversation is over. “And you got a rainbow, which means Mr. Kenobi isn’t mad.”

Anakin wonders, with the context, if that’s actually what the rainbow means, or if Mr. Kenobi isn’t just incredibly observant.

“TV time, kids,” he says, only feeling sort of bad about the screentime or whatever, as Luke perks up and runs with Leia into the living room.

After five minutes to make sure they’ve successfully turned on and found a child-appropriate show, Anakin gathers the dishes and loads the washer. Then he sighs as loud as he can without disrupting the kids.

Then he pulls out his phone and the school directory and finds the email for one Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, art teacher.

It takes him twenty minutes to figure out an email that doesn’t sound too judgemental, harsh, worried, skeptical, or angry. It takes another five minutes to figure out how to sign off on it. Kind regards? Best? Thanks? Sincerely? What is the etiquette for emailing your son’s art teacher to arrange a meeting because you’re worried your son will fail the class simply because he’s inherited terrible genes from his father?

It takes ten minutes, in the end, for Mr. Kenobi to email back, and he does so with a very straightforward message. He’s available to chat after school hours tomorrow, if it works for Anakin.

Anakin pulls up his work schedule. He’s supposed to work until five in the evening tomorrow, has already booked a slot at the after-care program for the twins. But.

He texts Ahsoka to ask if she could cover the last few hours of his shift. She texts back a string of rather offensive emojis, but settles down when he tells her it’s for his kids. Technically, he isn’t even lying. He’s just being overbearing.

He spends another fifteen minutes trying to compose a response email in between making sure the kids brush their teeth, wash behind their ears, and have their bags packed for the morning. He’s so stressed out by it that he’s not even sure he includes a signature at all before he hits send. God. Meeting Mr. Kenobi had better be worth all of this stress.

---

Finding Mr. Kenobi’s classroom is almost more stress than the correspondence from the night before had been. The only reason Anakin doesn’t sit down and cry against the garishly yellow brick lining the hallways is that he keeps telling himself that if his two seven-year-olds can do this, Anakin surely can.

The art classroom is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the school and it takes three wrong turns and one accidental entrance into a thankfully deserted first grade room for Anakin to find it. He knocks on the open door and then decides he should call as well to announce his presence. “Uh, Mr. Kenobi? I’m Anakin. Skywalker. We talked last night?” He takes a couple of steps into the room, which is lined in children’s art and paint-stained tables.

A man emerges from a backroom, dressed in a very loose and paint-flecked denim shirt over a white tank top and a pair of slacks. He’s wearing a pair of thick glasses that he takes off as soon as he sees Anakin. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair, a sort of bronzed auburn, neatly combed.

He’s holding a paintbrush in one hand, and still, of course, Anakin’s dumb brain overrides the part of him that’s saying, This is clearly Mr. Kenobi in favor saying, quite politely, “Oh! I’m sorry. Is Mr. Kenobi back there?”

The man who could not possibly be more obviously the art teacher raises an amused eyebrow.

Look. No one told Anakin that elementary school art teachers could be so attractive. He’d not done anything to prepare for this.

“You must be Luke’s father,” Mr. Kenobi says, waving him forward.

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asks, a tad too defensively, thinking of his own self-deprecating thoughts last night about Luke taking after him when it comes to being sort of stupid around people they liked. He’s just being paranoid.

“The...last...name,” now Mr. Kenobi is definitely trying to hide his smile and Anakin wants to die. “Would you like to sit?”

Anakin does so rather graciously, given the circumstances. He even makes sure he keeps their chairs very far apart. Mostly in order to preserve his own dignity, but he thinks he should get credit for his self-control at this spur of the moment single-parent-hot-teacher conference.

“I’m sorry for my appearance,” Mr. Kenobi says, pulling the oversized button up closed over his tank top. “I must admit, I mostly forgot you were coming by. I was working on one of my own projects.”

“You paint?” Anakin asks.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head slightly and flicks his eyes around the room as if in answer.

Anakin flushes but digs his heels in. “Well, I don’t know,” he mumbles mulishly. “Do math teachers do math in their spare time?”

This startles a laugh out of the teacher, which makes some long forgotten part of Anakin’s psyche sit up and preen. “I’m sure some of them do,” he says. “No, I do art mostly for the town right now. I’m working on a series of pieces for the public library at the moment.”

Anakin tries his hardest not to obviously melt, but Mr. Kenobi has not looked away from his face much so surely he can see it in his eyes.

“That’s quite. Nice,” Anakin says, coughing into his fist.

“And what do you do?” Mr. Kenobi asks in a way that’s just on the other side of polite. Anakin has the strange thought that if they had cups of coffee between them, he’d feel like he was on a very casual first date.

He has to shake his head to rid himself of that idea. “I’m a mechanic,” he says.

Mr. Kenobi looks interested, of all things. Most people don’t. Most people make some sort of assumption about him, about his life, his ability to parent his children, as if they’re not the ones rolling into his shop at 5:54 pm because their car is “making a funny noise”.

But Mr. Kenobi just looks interested.

“Oh?” He says. “That makes sense. Leia is always talking about how her father can fix anything.”

“Well,” Anakin blushes and looks away. “You know kids. Turn it off and turn it back on usually blows their minds.”

Mr. Kenobi smiles indulgently before clearing his throat. “You wanted to talk about Luke?”

“Oh! Yes!” He had come here with the express desire to talk about Luke with Mr. Kenobi. Not secure a date with Mr. Kenobi. “I saw that Luke got a... unicorn...and a rainbow on his last project, and it made me worry.”

It sounds very, very overbearing coming out of his mouth. This is an elementary school art class. Why did he think that he should come in and talk to a teacher over his son’s bad grade? Especially when it was pretty clear Luke deserved it.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head in confusion. “Well, yes, I suppose I usually give Luke two suns on his work, so I understand if the change was upsetting to you.”

“And we’re saying that two suns are good?” Anakin checks, feeling very out of his element here.

“Oh, yes, very good,” Mr. Kenobi assures him. “But his last project wasn’t. Well.”

“He says he got distracted,” Anakin mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Over a boy.”

“Haven’t we all been there,” Mr. Kenobi murmurs, sounding very amused. Anakin peeks over his fingers at this declaration.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “That’s sort of exactly what I thought.”

Mr. Kenobi clears his throat again. “Well. That’s why I gave him the unicorn then. It was a bit of bad work, but a very rare showing of it. And the rainbow, to signify that I know he’ll be back to normal again next time. You shouldn’t worry about this one project either, Mr. Skywalker. I do give final grades holistically, not weighted by any one assignment. This is, after all, a children’s art class.”

Anakin wants to thunk his head on the table in front of him. “You do know that all the parents think unicorn means unsatisfactory, right?”

“Why?” Mr. Kenobi has the nerve to look shocked.

“They both start with U, I don’t know,” Anakin says, waving an agitated hand through the air.

“Well, sometimes parents can be quite stupid,” Mr. Kenobi says primly and then looks horrified at himself. “Please don’t tell them I said that.”

Anakin laughs and gets to his feet reluctantly. His worries over Luke have been dealt with, but he finds himself very reluctant to leave.

“Well,” he says slowly, eyes firmly looking only at Mr. Kenobi’s face, “Thank you for meeting with me. I guess you don’t get many frantic parent-teacher conferences over a unicorn sticker.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand in embarrassment. He can admit now that perhaps he had overreacted.

Mr. Kenobi places his hand delicately over the hand Anakin still has on the table, just for a second, squeezing it with enough pressure that Anakin has to look up at him again. “Only the best parents,” he says with a half-smile.

Anakin finds himself grinning back, unwilling to move his hand now that Kenobi’s touching it. “And, um. If you ever take the kids on an art museum tour or something, and you need chaperones….give me a call.”

“Would I have to wait that long?” Kenobi asks innocently.

Anakin’s never shaken his head no so quickly before. “Any time,” he tells the man very seriously, already backing out of the room. “Before you think too much about it and decide not to would probably be preferable.”

Mr. Kenobi laughs. “I’m sure I’ll think about it a lot,” he says as he turns to go back to his art studio. He calls over his shoulder. “In bed, tonight.”

Anakin trips over a child-sized easel with a loud clatter and an even louder curse, and he can’t decide which of the two should be more thankful school is out for the day. Probably Mr. Kenobi. Yeah. Probably definitely Mr. Kenobi.

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

Linktree

[goldencuffs]

persuasion

@lamenweek day six: auguste lives au

It’s four-thirty on a Wednesday, and Damen is exhausted, worn down and irritated over the fact that he’s still stuck in the gym storage room, sorting through eight boxes of equipment.

The year seven kid in here with him, Peter, is slow and mullish: he’s only here because Huet gave him detention for not doing his homework for the third week in a a row.

Damen is here because his entire faculty is incompetent. These boxes were supposed to be unpacked a month ago, at the start of the term, but after Kallias walked out, things have been… hectic, to say the least.

In the stifling heat, Peter’s odour is unpleasant, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys reek.

Damen is seriously considering telling him to leave, but the extra pair of hands, no matter how small and slow, are still better than nothing.

Then, Damen hears the squeak of trainers across the shiny linoleum floor, and a tall, slim figure leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Damen bites back a sigh, his irritation spiking.

Laurent says, “Hey you, fuck off.”

Peter balks. “Me?”

Damen has his back turned, but in the ensuing silence, he knows that Laurent is staring the poor kid down, unwilling to repeat himself.

“Mr Vallis…” Peter starts, voice high and whiny.

This time Damen sighs loudly. “It’s fine, Peter. You can go home.”

Peter does so, without a goodbye, and when the gym doors close once more, Laurent says, “Damen, I need to talk to you.”

Damen turns around, mirroring Laurent’s pose. “Laurent, I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me by name at school. It’s Mr Vallis to you inside these gates. Always.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. Everything about him, as usual, is immaculate. There isn’t a single hair out of place, he’s still wearing his blazer, and unlike the most boys in this school, he hasn’t loosened his tie or unbuttoned his shirt to wave off the heat.

The only indication that he isn’t a weird, strange robot is the pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Unless you’re planning on help me with this, I need you to fuck off too,” Damen says, ready to turn back around.

“Actually, Mr Vallis,” Laurent straightens, and Damen doesn’t miss the inflection in his name, “I need a favour.”

Damen unpacks the third box, almost bursting into tears when he sees they’re nets. Nets always go on the top shelf. His back is going to break by the end of it.

“What is it?” He belatedly asks, realising Laurent is watching him.

Laurent presses his tongue to his top lip. “I know there’s a spot open on the wrestling team, and it would look really good on my uni applications if I wrote that I’m—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Revere. I already told you before the holidays that if your grades don’t improve—”

“They have! I managed to get a B in Ancient History—"

“You need a B average, not just in one subject. I’ve already checked, and you’re barely scraping a C.”

Laurent makes an indignant scoff. “Yes, but it would be a B average if Auguste helped me out with Chemistry—which is the only subject I’m failing, by the way. And he doesn’t help me at all—what’s the point of him being the best Chem teacher at this school if he won’t put me in his class!”

Damen runs a hand over his face. “You know you can’t have your brother teaching you—it’s against school policy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Laurent shrugs. “But, I swear I’ve been trying Dam—Mr Vallis. Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Damen snorts.

“Ugh! What’s the point of knowing teachers if they don’t help you out when you need it?”

Damen shrugs. “Tough luck, kid. If I gave you the spot, it might keep someone who actually deserves it from joining.”

“I deserve it.”

Damen rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Laurent adopts a haughty look, head held high. “I’ll tell your boyfriend Auguste that you’re being a dick—”

“We’ve been over this Laurent; I’m not dating your brother.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” Laurent mutters in a dangerous undertone. “All that touching and cuddling and inside jokes—”

Damen knows that he shouldn’t rise to bait presented to him by a belligerent eighteen year old, but he’s tired, and it’s been a long, long day so he snaps, “Yeah, that’s what friends do, you little shit. Not that you would know what it’s like to have one.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it: Damen is the adult here (the proper one) and more importantly, he’s Laurent’s teacher. A professional.

Laurent’s face falls, and genuine hurt settles into his eyes.

The corners of his mouth droop, and his voice shakes as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

Damen sighs, “Laurent—”

“Fuck you, Damen,” Laurent says, and turns on his heel in one smooth, elegant move.

*

Two weeks later, Auguste holds one last barbeque party to mourn the end of summer.

It’s not a crowded party: just four other teachers from school, two of Auguste’s uni friends, and of course, bloody Laurent.

He hasn’t said a single word to Damen all afternoon, the rude shit. Not that Damen expects anything less from the most prickly person he knows.

Laurent normally doesn’t even hang out with them, but since he turned eighteen over the winter, Auguste has been trying to include him in their gatherings a lot more.

It’s still a bit surreal to see Laurent easily holding down conversations with men twice his age, a beer bottle pressed to his mouth.

(That part is not so surprising. Damen caught Laurent guzzling an entire bottle of wine when he was sixteen, in this very kitchen).

Orlant touches Laurent’s knee, and says something that makes him laugh raucously.

Damen stands from the couch and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says, “I think your brother’s calling you.”

Laurent frowns, eyes drifting over to the alfresco, where Auguste is belting Wannabe by Spice Girls and ignoring the grill, Lazar attempting to beatbox along with the words.

God, the steaks are going to burn.

“I don’t think so,” Laurent says.

When Damen doesn’t leave, Orlant says, “You good, man?”

Damen doesn’t bother to reply. He frowns at Laurent. “You’ve been drinking non stop since you got here.”

Laurent throws him a disgusted look. “You’re not my teacher outside of school hours. Fuck off.”

Orlant raises an eyebrow, looking between them. “You’re his student?”

“Barely,” Laurent mutters. “He just makes us do laps and teaches us abstinence like a pastor from the seventies.”

“The curriculum suggests that I—”

“And he won’t put me on his wrestling team because of a small technicality.”

“It’s not a small—”

“You should let him on the team, man,” Orlant says, smiling at Laurent.

Laurent smiles back, eyelashes fluttering.

Damen frowns again.

“Thank you,” Laurent says to Orlant. “I wish you were the coach. Nikandros spent all summer helping me perfect my form, and it’s all been for nothing.”

Damen feels his face crack. “Nikandros? Since when have you been hanging out with him?”

Laurent gives him a devious smile. “Oh, I can be very persuasive. He spent the entire time telling me how good I was.” He flutters his lashes at Damen this time. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see for yourself, Mr Vallis.”

Orlant watches Laurent shamelessly.

Damen grits his teeth, blood rushing to his head, and grips Laurent’s bicep, ignoring his “Hey!”

He drags Laurent to the unoccupied living room, pushing him away in disgust the moment they’re alone. “What the fuck is your problem, Revere?”

“What the fuck is yours?” Laurent snaps, rubbing his bicep. “Have you lost it already? You usually go crazy around midterms.”

“Shut up,” Damen hisses. “What are you playing at? Did you seriously go to Nikandros for wrestling tips?”

Laurent is still rubbing his bicep, the drama queen. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t help me, so I had to look somewhere else for… expertise. And Nikandros was more than willing to help. Eventually.”

Damen can feel a headache coming on. “Nikandros is shit at wrestling.”

Laurent laughs. “Oh my god. You’re acting like a baby.” “And you’re being your usual intolerable self.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Now Laurent looks livid, his eyes flashing with malice.

“You haven’t even tried to get to know me for the last three years. When you told me I had to improve my grades, I studied my ass off. I got a tutor. I even went to fucking summer school. And yeah, I might only have a C average, but I’ve improved in literally everything. I’ve only failed one subject! At least Nikandros was willing to listen to me. You just behave like an ass.”

Damen swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, down at the shiny, tiled floor.

He sighs, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Damen looks at Laurent, at the sun shining down his head. “I said I’m sorry. Perhaps I have been… a little unfair.”

Laurent snorts and presses his mouth together,

“I didn’t realise how hard you’ve been working,” Damen says, appreciative. “I’m proud of you.”

Laurent goes red. He rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Whatever. You’re still a dick.”

Damen smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence.

Then Damen says, “Okay, give me your speech.”

“My speech, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah,” Damen raises an eyebrow. “Give me whatever speech you gave Nikandros. If it can convince him to teach you to wrestle, it might convince me to give you a shot on the team.”

Laurent stands straight, assessing him for a moment. “Are you sure, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Laurent gives him a smile Damen has never seen before. It unleashes something dark in his eyes.

Damen swallows, his heart suddenly picking up pace.

Laurent saunters towards him, still with that smile. He comes close enough that Damen can see the small smattering of freckles on his nose.

Damen presses his back to the counter. “Laurent…”

Laurent bites his lip. “Everyone thinks you’re the hottest teacher at school, Mr Vallis. I’ve had a crush on you since my first year.”

Damen coughs, startled. “Laurent, what…”

“Do you want me to give my speech or not?”

Damen’s chest heaves with his breaths. He assesses Laurent’s beautiful face, his mind carefully shutting down.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Laurent’s smile is sweet and shy.

He’s still wearing that smile when he gets down on his knees. His fingers are quick, nimble as they unbuckle Damen’s belt.

The clank of metal is loud, even amongst the drone of the party.

Damen should stop this. He should say something. Laurent is his student. More than that, he’s his best friend’s just-legal little brother. Damen should—

Laurent kisses the tip of his cock through the cloth, dragging his tongue over it, making it damp.

“Fuck, Laurent.”

Laurent pulls back and smiles at him, eyes half-mast. “I managed to convince Nikandros in about three minutes. Do you think you’ll last a bit longer?”

Damen grunts, hips moving in aborted jerks as Laurent slides down his underwear.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

[yoichichi]

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 2 - ew, small talk

warning(s): Tsukishima’s behavior 😐

a/n: I’m happy you guys seemed to really enjoy the introductory chapter!! I hope you enjoy this one just as much, and more tsuki content!! Ahhh I’d love to hear your thoughts per usual, and enjoy !! <3

ch. 1

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Oh my god.

At this point you’d rather have a failing grade than have to keep talking to this guy.

Maybe it was just the fact you’ve felt like you’ve made a fool of yourself about 59 million times, but you were officially over it.

Tsuki leaned back into his chair with that same smirk he gave you earlier, raised eyebrows and all. You’re starting to wonder if that’s maybe just how his face rests.

“No no, go ahead. You first.” His voice was quiet and monotone, very appropriate for the setting, not so much for your nerves.

The way he held himself was, interesting. You know it’s only been maybe 5 minutes since you’ve met which is most definitely not enough time to start making any kind of assumptions about a person, but with the air around him so tense and serious, how could you not?

You could see his legs were just slightly spread in his seat, as far as it would allow it. And instead of doing the casual thing and resting his head in his hand while he waited for you to speak, it was tilted just slightly upward. Chin just barely jutting out at you, head leaning to the left just a tad. His forearms rested on the arms of the chair rather than the table, too.

Everything about his body language said, go on, I’m waiting for you to answer me. Rather than, go ahead, I’m listening.

It made your nerves congregate in your throat and made it difficult for you to speak.

He does not need to be making me this nervous.

You fiddled with the clicker of your pen as you began to speak, doing your best to keep your nervous fidgeting to a minimum. There should be no reason he should have such a knack for making you feel this way, he’s a random guy who takes your same calculus class. Regardless of the way he seems to carry himself, he’s nothing more than that. Some guy.

Besides, he probably wasn’t doing it on purpose. He just has one of those, faces.

“I was just gonna say thanks for agreeing to help me out. Even if it is so early.” You chuckled lightly and brought your hands up to rest on the top of the table.

Enough fidgeting.

“You’re welcome.” Another monotone reply.

You smiled thinly as you waited for him to continue his sentence, cause surely he wasn’t done.

….

Really?

You sat in another few moments of silence while he sighed and looked down at the open pages of his textbook, unable to tell if he was being serious.

“Alright. Why don’t we start with talking about the last lesson you felt most confident in understanding, okay?”

He was being serious.

“Yeah, sure.” You sighed and took a glance down at your notes.

A long hour indeed.

—

It hasn’t even been 20 minutes, yet you’re already starting to get a better grasp on bits of the material you couldn’t even begin to comprehend just a few hours earlier. It certainly isn’t enough to be rid of a tutor, but enough to know you were referred to him for a reason.

Maybe his aloof attitude was worth it.

“Well, that explains why I couldn’t get the numbers to plug in right on that next weird step of the equation. And why it looked so funky when I tried to illustrate the graph. God, that’s a lot.” You stated matter of factly, dumbfounded at how easy he was making this all seem.

“Go ahead and try these other problems from the back of the book, and then we’ll go over what you get after. And if you get stuck just ask. I’m gonna work on some other homework in the meantime.”

His voice had more lilt to it now. Maybe it was because his own version of morning grogginess had warn off. Or he could’ve been just as nervous as you at first. Regardless, you appreciate he seems to be less stiff than when you first percieved him.

You nodded your head and immediately got to work. Having a sudden epiphany about the content was definitely a boost to your motivation to get it done.

He chuckled softly to himself at your eagerness and got started on his own work.

It was nice, actually.

The next few minutes were quiet, but they weren’t awkward. The pair of you having your own focus on the work at hand, merely keeping each other company at this point with the soft scribbles of pencil against paper. That was until you had a question of course.

You looked up to ask him a question but almost felt bad for interrupting him, you could tell he was really focused.

His head was turned downward slightly making his glasses slide farther down the bridge of his nose. His fingers, which you noticed were slightly scuffed up, looked like they were gripping his pen so delicately no matter how fast he was writing. Your eyes followed the trail from his hand up to his shoulder, past the tendons twitching in his forearms at each flick of his wrist, and past his lean yet distinctly toned bicep.

Your gaze stopped on his shoulder when his other hand reached over to squeeze at the apparently tender spot, watching him roll it a few times before he leaned back down to write some more.

His jaw seemed tight, maybe he was having a tough time with this particular class he was working on. Or maybe it was because he appeared to be sore from, something. Taking in his physique and condition of his hands, you decided it wouldn’t be surprising if a sport was what was straini-

“Are you stuck?”

Your eyes shot over just a bit to look directly at his face, realizing you were staring and he probably assumed you needed help, which technically you did.

He was looking up at you above the top of the frame of his glasses and through his eyelashes, eyes just slightly wider than usual as he waited for you to answer.

You had to admit, he was a pretty guy.

“Yeah, kinda. This integral just isn’t clicking for me, I don’t really know where to start.” You held your stare on his face as he leaned in closer to reach over and flip your notebook around, taking a peek at your work thus far.

He hummed almost silently to himself before he spoke up, realizing what was confusing you.

Hm, he smells kind of minty. But not toothpaste minty more like, organic clean minty. Or maybe that’s eucalyptus I’m smelling? I wonder if it’s a cologne or if he just showered before he got here. Jesus, how early would he have to get up to shower before he got here? Cause his hair wasn’t even wet when - well, was it? I could’ve mis-

“Make sense?”

You blinked once, hard, as you internally chastised yourself for being a bit of a creep as you sat analyzing his smell rather than listen to what he had to say.

Nodding your head you stared back down at your paper, contemplating how you were gonna pretend to do better with an equation you didn’t even know where to begin.

“Oh, thank you for agreeing to meet so early, by the way.”

His words caught you off guard as you looked up to see his nose still buried in his work, but his mouth moving.

“I have a team practice in a couple hours and I’m already tutoring someone else afterwards, and this was the only free time I had before your next class.” He looked up at you and offered the tiniest of smiles.

So he did do a sport.

“What do you play?” You asked, genuinely intrigued to know the answer.

His height definitely made him look like a basketball kind of guy, no, you’d know if he played basketball. Maybe soccer.

“Oh, I’m on the volleyball team.” His hand kept its steady pace at writing down notes in his notebook, not even sparing you a glance when he answered.

“Oh wow. How long have you been playing?” You rested your head in your hand, patiently waiting for his response. It was nice to talk about something besides math for a little bit.

“Mmm, I’ve been playing for a good amount of time. This is my first year on the team though, so not long with them I guess. Do you play any sports?” He set his pen down now, rolling his neck out with his eyes closed, leaning back in his chair and waiting for your response this time.

“No, I don’t. My boyfriend plays basketball, though.”

His eyes opened and locked onto yours for a brief moment before looking back down onto that god forbidden work. It was silent for just a second, an unexplainable tension quietly passing between the two of you, so fast you almost missed it, before you spoke up again.

“He’s a sophomore though, so, a little more familiar with his team you could say.” You smile fondly and let out a small chuckle, doing your best to keep the flow of the conversation going,

“He-“

“Hm, nice.” He let out a deep breath and gingerly placed a hand on your notebook, as if he was unaware he cut you off just now, and continued to speak.

Maybe this wasn’t the time for getting to know each other, then.

“Let’s take a look at what you’ve gotten done so far, yeah?”

—

It’s been three days since you last had your first meeting with Tsuki, you hadn’t seen each other since, and yet somehow he was still working you to pieces.

He’d text you around dinner time each day since then like clockwork, just one word:

- ‘Studying?’

- ‘Yes Tsukishima.’

- ‘Good job.’

And it’d be the same thing in the mornings:

- ‘Study guide treat you well?’

- ‘Lol yes Tsukishima. It was actually really helpful so ty :)’

- ‘👍🏼’

I mean, he hand made you study guides to use. And enough of them so that they would last you till he met back up with you on the following Sunday.

It was like he knew you’d feel bad if you didn’t use them and study. But you’d be lying if you said they weren’t helping. You were walking through the door to said class now, and actually feeling semi confident as you sat at your desk and pulled out your belongings, and you had Tsukishima to thank for that.

You noticed it was quiet today as you waited for class to start. October slump was definitely hitting your fellow peers hard, that and the weather. Even your professor was quiet as he walked in and prepared the lesson.

Feeling fatigued and bored yourself, you pulled your phone out to pass the time when you noticed you had a text from Tsukishima still sitting on your lockscreen. It must be pretty recent.

Hm, that’s odd.

Tsukishima

‘Good luck in class today. I hope it all makes a little more sense. :).’

…

A smiley face?

You shut your phone off quickly and shoved it back into your pocket, not particularly fond of the way your heart swelled just the slightest at the fact he texted you.

And remembered you had class today.

And texted you a smiley face at that.

Hm. Looks like he’s warming up to me.

————————

OKOK DONT YELL AT ME AKEKEKE I’m currently writing chapter 3 already ok 😭 i feel like this is kind of short but it just felt weird to do another transition for what I wanted to write rather than just doing a whole chapter and yeah - MIND UR BUSINESS OK I KNOW WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS. Anywayyysss Ahhhh I hope this fed yall well heheheh and you know I love your thoughts and stuff :3 !! MWAH

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!)

[emmyisafanandacon]

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭!𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

[FLUFF] Word Count: 2083 words It’s a very hot day out in the field, which is unfortunate since ground operations are currently ongoing today. You were hoping to delay the operations further down another term, but unfortunately, the backlog operations from the pandemic were ridiculous, so you decided to take your missed simulations all in one day. What a shame that you had to choose the hottest day of the year, it seems. So now here you are, sitting on a chair in the giant hangar as you wait for your head instructor to come back with your assigned instructor for your ground operations. The shade from the hangar may be some comfort, but it truly felt like the heat was bouncing off the asphalt. You quietly pray that it would not affect the aircraft you need to taxi, and hope that it would be a little cooler in the aircraft.

Probably not. It’s a single-engine aircraft. The metal might exacerbate the heat for you. You sigh out your discomfort and looked around. Around you were a bunch of different aircraft, some of the models you recognize from your classes. You hold back a small grimace, as you remember the last time you did your aircraft taxiing, your instructor pilot was a bit strict on your taxi control, requiring you to stay perfectly in the middle of the runway for the taxi. It was a miracle you passed that term. God, it feels like it has been 10 minutes since you last saw your head instructor. But he seemed to have disappeared out of nowhere. You just hope that the pilot assigned to you was a decent one. “Excuse me?” You turn around to find yourself staring at one of the newer pilots you saw hanging around the faculty. A tall young man gives you a sheepish grin, his grey eyes twinkling with jittery energy. He’s dressed in a typical pilot’s uniform, with a brown leather briefcase hanging from his shoulder. You’ve heard about him several times from some of your schoolmates, the new cute pilot with fluffy brown hair and a charming smile. He’s caught the attention of so many people, so it’s pretty interesting to finally meet the actual person. “Hi. I am so sorry that I took too long, that was very unprofessional of me.” he scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t waiting too long.” you lied. “The head instructor told me to wait here, I’m guessing it’s my turn on the aircraft?” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, “Unfortunately, there have been some setbacks on the scheduling. We might have to wait a bit longer before the run-up operation.” “It’s okay. I guess I’ll wait a little longer.” “I'm truly sorry about that,” he begins to look around the hangar. “They asked you to wait here?” “…Yes?” He looks up at the bright blue sky peering out of the hangar’s roof, blinking at the sun’s bright glare from the concrete ground. “Maybe it’s best if we stayed in the pilot’s lounge, that way you wouldn't have to stay in this heat.” He glances back to you with a nervous smile, his eyes almost iridescent. “If that’s okay with you! I was just thinking that the hangar might not be the best place to stay in. It’s a bit hot today that’s all.” You smile at the skittish instructor. “It’s alright Captain. I’m fine with waiting in the pilot’s lounge.” His cheeks began to turn red, as he gives a flustered giggle. “I- Please don’t call me that, it makes me feel a bit older than I should. I think we’re quite close in age after all.” “Okay,” you smile cheekily at him, saving the fact that he gets embarrassed quickly in mind for future references. “What should I call you then?” “Ah, sorry! I forgot to introduce myself,” he extends a hand out to you, “My name is Capt. Karl Jacobs. I’m one of the new flight instructors. Though you can call me Karl instead, I’d rather not follow protocol.” “[Y/N], Aerospace Engineering, Year 3.” He raises a brow, “Aerospace Engineering? Very interesting, what’s it like to have that course?” “If you can handle eons of mathematics, it’s not a bad course to have,” you laugh. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can handle that much math, I’d rather leave that to better people like you. Shall we head to the lounge?” You nod, as you sit up and you start to gather your belongings to head to the pilot’s lounge. But Karl stops you and grabs your bag for you, giving you a wink as he starts to walk inside. You weren’t expecting that, but it’s not uncommon for flying students to try to be chivalrous towards their company. You follow him in, though you find your thoughts catching up to you. It’s absurd, you think, calling a pilot by their first name. Normally calling the pilots by their name was strange, but Karl clearly isn’t like the other pilots or the flying students you constantly rub elbows with. “Karl…” You try, slightly cringing at the lack of Captain or Sir. “Isn’t it a bit rebellious to not follow protocol? What would the other captains

say?” you jest at him as he leads you through the empty hallways. He gives you a little smile. “It’s fine for me. Don’t you call the AMT technicians and the AE engineers by their names?” You roll your eyes at him. “Well, that’s because we see them more often, and we’re more familiar with each other, so it’s fine to call them by their names. Though aren’t you guys stricter with the flying students?” He laughs at that, “We are, but you’re not a flying student. Unless… Do you plan on switching?” You shake your head, “Nope, you’re talking to an engineer through and through.” As you uttered those words, you both found yourselves in front of the pilot lounge’s entrance. He opens the door and holds the door for you expectantly, the cold air from the lounge blasting around you. You give a small smile of gratitude and enter, noticing that the lounge is also empty. “Why aren’t there many people around? Aren’t there students taking their required hours too?” You ask Karl as you seat yourself in one of the many chairs around the lounge, dropping your things down a table. “From what I understood, contact has to be limited still, and that there aren’t many students who have scheduled their ground operation schedule yet. So not many people should be on the grounds right now.” He explains as he brings out a folder from his bag taking the seat next to you. “Do you have your ground operations info sheet? I’ll help you fill out the details of the aircraft we should be using today.” You look at him in surprise, “Usually the technicians are the ones who help us fill this out, aren’t you the one who’s supposed to grade me instead?” He gives a cheery smile in response. “It’s fine, we don’t have much to do anyway as we wait. We might as well fill out the form, besides,” he lifts the grading rubric he has in his hand. “I’ll still grade you fairly based on your taxiing performance. Nothing to worry about.” You give him an impassive look, to which he laughs in response. “I won’t have too high expectations, I swear! I’m only strict towards flying students.” he raises his hands in defense. You sigh, but you allow him to take a look at your information sheet, filling up the details of the aircraft with his help. He stays close to you the whole time, and you can almost feel his fluffy curls touch your hair lightly, his warmth cascading over you lightly as you try to focus on your sheet. His hands meeting yours from time to time as he points at different parts of the info sheet, directing you on what to write. After the sheet was completed, you hand your sheet for Karl to keep and you fell into simple conversation, discussing technical things, like how it’s like to be an instructor or a pilot. Karl answered with an excitable passion for all questions, almost like a cute puppy receiving a treat. (“But wasn't the exam difficult? I heard so many people failed it.” “It took me one month to study for it.” “…Wow.”) Soon, the questions delved into personal territory, from why you chose to be an engineer and eventually fell into Karl’s many adventures as a flying student. (“How are you still a pilot?” “I have no clue either that was incredibly dumb of me too.” “Have you at least fixed your Monster addiction problem?” “…..Hey so, what do you guys do in that laboratory of yours?” “DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT KARL.”) You both learned so much about each other, learning that you two were only two years from each other. (“How did I not meet you sooner when you were still a student?” “I was always in the library.” “Like a nerd?” “No, I- Hey! Take that back!”) An hour passed, and soon the head instructor entered the lounge, notifying the both of you that it is your turn for the ground operation training, apologizing for the long delay. And yet, you don’t feel frustration for the long wait. You follow Karl and your head instructor out into the runway where the aircraft was dropped off by another duo taking the taxiing procedure. You both rush into the plane, climbing in as the propellers burst large gusts of air. The previous pilot

quickly switched places with Karl, as you greet your fellow student as you try to climb in. Once you got in the aircraft, you felt both excited and nervous as Karl looks through your paper. “Ready to taxi?” He asks with a cheery grin. You give him a small nod, as you watch him turn on the engine to a slow speed for the aircraft to start moving. “Remember to stay in the middle of the runway, and you can adjust the speed of the engine if you want the aircraft to go faster.” Pushing the pedals on your feet to center the aircraft onto the runway, you try to follow the white middle line on the concrete as best as you can. You find yourself slightly gripping the yolk, as you try to point the nose of the aircraft straight at the middle. Karl encourages you the whole time as you go for a turn towards the left. You notice another aircraft taxiing nearby and try to maintain a distance away from them, slowing to give them space. Karl smiles in acknowledgment as you still try to keep the pace and distance steady the best you can. He starts pointing out parts of the aircraft to you, introducing the flight instruments as you continue to steer the aircraft around the runway. Eventually, he directs you to park the aircraft to a specific area. As soon as the aircraft falls to a full stop, he gives your info sheet with a smile. “Congratulations, full marks. Maybe you could be a pilot instead, and fly with me?” He teases. You smile back at him, “I won’t be flying the plane anytime soon, but maybe I’ll work with you sometime in the future?” He giggles at the idea, “Let’s see. See you someday engineer, hope I’m your instructor again soon.” “See you someday, Captain Karl Jacobs.” You grin as you clamber out of the plane with the help of some technicians outside and head back to the hangar to check your info sheet. Exactly as he said, he graded your procedure with perfect marks, giving excellent praise and comments on your driving. Before you thought of passing the paper to your head instructor, you noticed a white sticky note attached at the back of the paper with a small message written on it. ‘It was fun talking to you, maybe you’d be up for more of that another time? Just shooting my shot. XXXX-XXX-XXXX -Karl <3’ You smile at the sticky note, keeping it in your pocket as you hand over your info sheet to your head instructor as he dismissed you off. As you head out towards the exit, you send a text out to the number. ‘Sure, coffee date sometime? Good luck on instructing everyone else. <3 -Future Engineer’

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢 𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 20 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳! 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

[sayonarasanity]

Reverberation

Chapter V

link to AO3

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

notes: the song that will be mentioned in this chapter is She's a Rainbow by Lola Marsh and also here is the Spotify link. I highly recommend you to listen to it especially while reading that part. it's truly an incredible song

The first year of high school passed by in the blink of an eye. Between the adjustment of classes, advanced math, and literature, teachers of idiosyncratic character treats and a variety of teens in the class he didn’t even understand the period between September and June. If he was being honest there wasn’t much noteworthy difference between middle school and high school except for the lessons and maybe some physical changes among his peers as well as himself. Save for the height part. Apparently, he wasn’t gifted like that giant Mike or the very sophisticated Erwin Smith.

There was nothing much to do during the summer break. He worked alongside his uncle in the market to at least gain some money and not spend his whole time lying on his bed, sweaty and gasping for a breath while a single leaf on a tree begged for a tiny breeze to make it wiggle. He read some books, watched some TV shows, played soccer with the other boys in class; Mike, Erwin, Oluo, Guther, Eld and even Moblit when or if they were around. Went to the beach with the same squad in addition to girls like Petra, Nifa, Nanaba and Hanji.

Most of his time was spent with Hanji, of course. On the roof, in the attic, in each other’s rooms, sometimes at the library—because the heat didn’t stop Hanji from being a complete nerd—and sometimes she helped him in the market while stuffing his mind with countless  mind-blowing  topics.

And so came the second year of high school.

And it took Hanji only two weeks to be late for the first class in the morning.

“I can’t believe you actually slept in,” Levi told her after she came inside the class during the break, gasping, her face flushed red possibly from running, hair dishevelled and absolutely not  combed,  and sat down on her desk in front of him.

She was trying to adjust her breaths as she turned over to face him. The dispersed, brown strands were covering her face, some of them had stuck on her reddened cheek and forehead. After the not so successful haircut, Levi had given her, she had also gotten bangs. Courtesy of her mother. “I was reading a book last night.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

She pushed the glasses up, and leaned in closer, putting an elbow on top of his desk. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What kind of book could possibly make you stay awake all night?”

“It’s called The Blind Owl.” She shivered as if a chill had gone through her body. “It was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read. And the thing is I couldn’t stop reading it because it was also ridiculously intriguing,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “It cost me my sleep though.”

“That bad, huh?” Levi asked, but it was obvious from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad actually. It was masterfully written for sure. It was just—”

“Disturbing.”

“Yes. There is no other word to explain it.” She ran a hand through her dispersed hair, but her fingers got stuck between the knots. Then she looked at her wrist and groaned frustrated. “I forgot my hair tie.”

One of the things the almost six years of friendship with Hanji had thought him was to collect the items she had a habit of forgetting, mostly in his room. He had a drawer full of her lost, black hair ties. He kept a few on his pencil case or sometimes, like today, he carried one of them on his wrist. “Here,” he said extending it to her.

“What would do without you?” she whined as she took the tie from him.

“You wouldn’t survive a day,” Levi pointed out. It wasn’t even half-joke.

“Agreed,” she nodded. She had finished tying up her hair. Now her face was more on display, the flush on her cheeks was nearly gone. Levi realized that her nape was not covered with the too-short strands that couldn’t make it into her sloppy, little ponytail.

His hand moved instinctively, naturally even. “Your hair has grown long again,” he told her with a frown. And when his fingers touched her bare nape, she winced quite clearly for his frown to get deeper. He retreated his hand upon her reaction.

Her hand held the place he had barely touched seconds ago and when she noticed his expression she laughed. “God, your fingers are cold.”

Levi folded his hand as a fist, pressing his fingertips on his palm to see if his fingers were indeed cold as she had said. His body temperature was low, it was no news to him but at the moment his fingertips was not that cold for her to give such a reaction. Maybe because she had run here it was her body which was unnaturally hot, he reasoned, not really satisfied but he would accept it for the time being.

“Do you want me to cut it?”

“No,” she objected, avoiding his stare. “I’ll use it like this for a while.”

Her hand went on rubbing her neck, it seemed like an almost unintentional, absent-minded motion at this point.

“I made some research,” Hanji said when the silence got a little awkward for their standards. She then looked through her bag with both hands and slammed a wrinkled piece of paper on his desk.

“What’s this?” He examined her inelaborate handwriting but couldn’t understand the overall concept of what was written. Meanwhile, Hanji brought a pen over the page and underlined two words that were written in capital letters.

ROSE and SINA.

“These two are the best universities of the country,” she started to explain. “Both in terms of education and in terms of different opportunities for students. Student clubs are very much active also the campuses are huge.”

Levi had heard of the universities of course. They were named after the cities they were located in. Sina was almost three hours away from their town and Rose was even further in the opposite direction. But they had to leave the town at some point if they wanted to receive a good education. As Hanji had told the two of them were probably their best options and if they manage to keep their grades high enough there was a chance for both of them to make it into the same university. But, which one?

“But?”

“But” she carried the pen over the word Sina and drew a circle around it. “Since Sina is a technical university, I think it is a far better option for us considering the departments we want to study.”

Levi hummed thoughtfully. She did have a point.

“Also,” she continued, eyes glittering. “Great professors like Keith Shadis, Theo Magath and Darius Zackly are teaching there. Imagine the lectures…” she shrieked with excitement and wiggled in her seat. “It’s gonna be so fun!”

Levi shook his head at her quite early thrill and snatched the pencil out of her hand. He drew an arrow to the word Sina and wrote elegantly above: GOAL. “Sina it is then.”

Hanji took the pencil back and while nodding she scratched the word he had just written and instead, bringing the pencil a little to the crosswise she wrote: DREAM.

She looked at him then as if to confirm, with a bright smile on her lips and eyes full of the glitter of the dream she held so close to her heart. It was contagious. Levi felt his lips curling up, and maybe a tiny bit of that lustre in her eyes had reached out to his own. And he thought that maybe it wasn’t that hard after all.

How naïve, a sly, foreign voice whispered in the back of his mind. Little boy, how naïve.

-

“So, what’s going on between you two?”

Hanji lifted her eyebrows upon Nifa’s question and moved her stare to whom the question was directed. Nanaba gulped her bite with seemingly a little more force than necessary and blinked innocently at Nifa. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Nifa wiggled her brows, smirking mischievously at their suffering friend. “You and Mike.”

Petra hid a chuckle behind her hand as Hanji bit her cheek inside to stop her smile from shaping so obviously. They were sitting in the backyard of the school on an arbour for lunch. There was still for about half an hour until their next class and from the looks of it, Nifa had decided to use it for some gossip.

“Nothing,” Nanaba answered nonchalantly then she brought the straw of her peach juice to her mouth and took a very long sip. Hanji didn’t miss the faint blush on her cheekbones. “We’re friends.”

“You’re a little too close for being friends, don’t you think?” Nifa asked with a sweet voice, dropping her chin on top of her intertwined fingers, smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Nanaba brushed her off, taking another bite from her sandwich.

“Stop tormenting her, Nifa,” Hanji interrupted just as Nifa was about to say something else. “She can tell us when she feels like it.” Hanji then smirked at a very pissed Nanaba, who was glaring at her so hard Hanji thought she could catch flames just by responding to her stare.

Suddenly, someone dropped something in front of her with a loud “pat” and Hanji looked down, startled, to a packet of chocolate milk, then looked up to a frowning Levi.

“Did you eat?”

“Yep!” Hanji rested her chin on her palm and smiled at him. “Did you?”

He nodded silently and gestured at the milk standing on the wooden table. “You’re gonna pay me back for that later.”

“Stingy,” she murmured as he turned his back to her. Hanji saw the other boys gathered up around a bench a little away from where she and the girls sat. And before Levi went too far away, she shouted behind him, “When shall we meet again?”

He glanced at her above his shoulder. “After school,” he said, flatly.

“Come on, Levi!” She lifted her chin from her palm, disappointed. “You should’ve said “when the hurly-burly is done”, I thought you were better than that!”

He turned his whole body to her this time, walking backwards. A smirk played on one corner of his lips, midday sun caught his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. “And you should’ve asked, “in thunder, lightning or in rain?” I thought you were better than  that , genius.”

Take him and cut him out in the little stars.

Levi was beautiful. Hanji recalled the day she had first realized it, the faint yellow leaves and the crackling sound of fire. The realization had hit hard, and she couldn’t have understood the reason why right away. It was startling that was for sure but after some thorough and logical consideration, she had decided that it was all about being a teenager.

It was that simple. Thinking a boy was beautiful was natural. Besides, it wasn’t just Levi. Erwin, for instance, was attractive. With a sharp chin, bright, blue eyes and that shiny yellow hair that always looked so soft like cotton. He wasn’t necessarily beautiful though but attractive still, handsome even.

And he will make the face of Heaven so fine.

Levi turned his back to her again and Hanji snorted, opening the straw of her chocolate milk. “He got me bad.”

When she put the straw between her lips for a long sip, she realized the silence that has settled on the table and when she took a glance above her glasses, she saw the three other girls looking at her.

“What?” she asked after gulping.

“What’s with you two?”

“Huh?”

It was Nifa again and this time the question was directed at her. “You and Levi?”

Hanji blinked, trying to reason her question. “What about us?”

“You seem close,” Petra added instead of Nifa. Her hazel eyes curious as she observed Hanji. “Like real close.”

Hanji frowned and pushed her glasses back to their proper place. “We are best friends.” They seriously hadn’t understood it for a year?

“I bet everyone thinks you’re dating,” Nifa said laughing.

Oh? “That’s ridiculous,” Hanji said, shaking her head. “Why would I date my best friend?”

Nifa shrugged, and Petra looked thoughtful. “How long have you been friends?”

Hanji didn’t know why but she felt her stomach curl. “Since we were eleven.”

Petra hummed and the conversation seemed to be over like that. Hanji chewed the plastic stick thoughtfully and with distress, she couldn’t find the reason why. The curl stayed solid in her stomach, sharp and insistent. Absently she noticed that Petra was staring somewhere with a strange expression in her eyes and when Hanji followed her stare, she saw Levi standing in front of the bench the other boys were sitting. Mike who was standing next to him had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he looked content, his features relaxed, his black hair looked smooth touching his forehead.

That all the world will be in love with the night.

Goddamn Juliet, she thought bitterly, frowning she took her eyes away from him. Goddamn Shakespeare.

*

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

It was Wednesday afternoon on a nice autumn day. Near them was a tree slowly getting peeled off its leaves, and the clouds were reflecting the orange light the sun created. It was also reflecting on her ginger hair, making it shine almost yellow.

“I, uh…” Petra cleared her throat, squeezed her hair behind her ear as the blush that had appeared on her cheeks gradually became more visible. “This is harder than I expected.”

Levi raised his brows. He had been wondering what Petra wanted to talk to him ever since she asked him if they could meet after school in the backyard this morning. He had found it a little awkward because it had felt like she wanted to talk to him in private and he couldn’t have thought of any reason why she would wish for that.

“You look nervous,” he told her.

“Well, of course, I am,” Petra laughed, not a cheerful one. “I am trying to…”

She let out a sharp breath as if she was angry at herself and she wasn’t looking at him too. Her eyes were scanning their feet, her fingers were fidgeting, brows furrowed.

And Levi was quietly getting an idea about why she wanted to talk to him.

“Just tell me,” He tried to encourage her, feeling his own heartbeat getting faster abruptly.  

Finally, she looked up at him, her cheeks painted crimson and she took a long, deep breath before she said, “Would you like to go to the cinema with me?”

“Oh,” he said.

Not the kind of reaction he should’ve given apparently. Petra bit her lower lip anxiously at first, searching his eyes. He must be pretty shocked for she looked a little discouraged upon his reaction. But within seconds she gathered herself up, her shoulders held high.

“I… liked you since the seventh grade,” she said, the blush spread from her cheeks to her neck, but she continued to be resolute without looking anywhere else than him. “And I thought that there is nothing wrong with asking a boy out if that boy doesn’t seem to be doing it anytime close.”

Levi felt his own cheeks heating up. Admittedly, he had never realized Petra had such feelings for him. “Sorry.”

Petra laughed, somewhat forcefully. “It’s okay,” she gulped, and a weak smile vibrated on her lips. “Just don’t be harsh if you’re gonna say no.”

Levi considered her offer quietly. Petra had always been a good friend and she was a nice person too. Kind, tidy and even funny. She loved painting and drawing and was pretty gifted at them as well. And she smelled fresh, Levi guessed it was because of the softener she used on her clothes, her hair was soft, and her eyes were pretty.

“When do you want to go?”

Said pretty eyes glittered as she beamed at him. For a second, in the back of his mind, he saw a very similar image belonging to another girl with auburn hair and hazel-brown eyes who had a smile that reminded him of the rainbow after rain and sun.

“What about this Friday after school?” Petra asked, excitedly.

“Sure,” Levi responded, trying to smile and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach.

*

When he stepped into the roof, the night was chilly, the sky was full of transparent, quietly moving clouds, the stars were shining behind them, the Wanning Gibbous was hanging low on the horizon, and Hanji was standing on the edge of the roof, her head laid backwards.

Levi didn’t even know if he breathed, his heart jumped to his throat as he threw his schoolbag to the ground and walked closer to her from behind cautiously. “Hanji, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Watching the sky,” she replied, smiling.

Levi felt a muscle move on his jaw; his heart was beating so loud it almost hurt his ears. He focused on adjusting his breaths. In and out. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get back down.”

Hanji shrugged and Levi nearly had a heart attack right then and there. He felt his eyes widen, and his breath hitched. “I feel closer to the clouds like this.”

“Hanji,” he took slow, careful steps towards her. The night breeze was toying with her dispersed hair, her face was tranquil, her eyes never left the sight of the clouds. The smile that was drawn on her lips was unmoving like it was craved there by the hands of a masterful sculptor. And he watched her, his heart still beating fast and loud, his breaths irregular, and his eyes wide, and he thought about—

Stars

how free she looked at that moment like she belonged to the sky, the stars and the moon. As if they shone for her only.

hide your fires.  

Brown hair and brown eyes but Hanji was luminous. She kept the colours hidden, had a brush and a palette ready in her hand. The murky night did nothing but to contrast the light, she had a way with the world which made her stood out among the dullest of sounds and faces. Even on top of a derelict building, she was—

Let not light see—

the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He grabbed her wrist, inhaling hard and thick then he drew her back with a quick move of his arm. Her body turned and crashed against him, and he stumbled backwards a few steps, but he kept his balance, wrapping his arms around her waist securely, without any intention of letting go. He vaguely heard the surprised shriek Hanji made upon his unexpected move. And he half-expected her to push him back, to laugh it off and to say that he was being dramatic again. That nothing was going to happen anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to jump.

Yet instead, her arms circled his neck as she rested her cheek on his head and at that very moment Levi realized that he had never thought of losing her, of what would happen if she were to leave his life. Just like he had never imagined a day without the sun rising. The thought was uninvited and unwelcomed, and it cropped a fear in his heart so profound, he drew a shivering breath in before he buried his face on her neck. Then he pushed that thought deep down to the dungeon in his head never to see daylight again.

“I’m okay, you know,” Hanji spoke after seconds.

“Stupid,” he said, holding her tighter. “Stupid four-eyes.”

“Mm,” she muttered, amused. Then she started to move left and right making him follow her movements as if they were dancing. “I’m going to let all the world know that Levi Ackerman cares for me.”

Levi placed his forehead on her shoulder, pressing hard. “Someone needs to care for your sorry ass, or you’ll drop it down a goddamn building.”

She laughed, and it felt so good to hear it he immediately craved the sound soon as it faded away. Hanji stopped moving afterwards, then put her hands on his shoulder to push him slightly back. He withdrew reluctantly but kept his hands on either side of her waist not ready to let go just yet.

Her eyes were somewhat misty as she watched him, as the sharp peak of a mountain lost behind a grey fog. Levi frowned at her, searching for a sturdy branch to hold and to obtain some kind of a clue about what she was thinking. He came back empty-handed, and Hanji snapped out of it soon after, smiling at him brightly and warm. Her hair was all over her face, her glasses were askew, and he brought a hand up to fix them.

Then he flicked her forehead instead.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, touching the slightly damaged skin.

“That was for almost giving me a heart attack,” Levi said nonchalantly and walked past her to grab his schoolbag. Then he sat down, bag between his legs as he searched for the snacks he bought after school.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” Hanji muttered as she placed herself next to him. “But you were just being dramatic. I wasn’t going to jump anyway.”

*

So, here was the thing, he needed to tell Hanji.

But he didn’t know how. Through all those years they had been friends, there had never been a secret among them. He knew everything about her. From the fact that she had fed a frog in her room when she was only seven without telling neither of her parents and how she accidentally killed the poor animal by forgetting to feed it properly. And to the very first crush, she secretly had on a boy who didn’t even know who she was when she was ten. Each and every detail in between had been craved in his head, everything about her was a book he had learnt by heart, and he knew that for her it was the same.

He didn’t understand why he was so unwilling now about telling her about Petra. Frankly, he was going to tell her yesterday but when he saw her standing on the edge of the goddamn roof, he had forgotten all about it in a second. Thursday, which was today, he couldn’t have found a chance to talk to her alone and tomorrow was Friday. And he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

Levi traced the shadows on the ceiling with his eyes, lying on his bed. It was near eleven pm but he didn’t have any sleep. Should he call Hanji? But no. It wasn’t something he could tell on the phone. It would be absurd and out of nowhere—

His phone started to vibrate on the bedside table.

He jumped a little, surprised at hearing a sound other than the voices in his head then stared at the phone for a while until he decided that it was going to ring till he opened it. And so, he did.

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” Hanji spoke before him as he lied back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I was trying to,” he lied.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized without sounding a bit sincere. “But this is more important than your sleep so…”

He raised a brow. “What did you learn again?”

“A lot of things. But that is not the reason why I called.” Levi heard some clatter he guessed it was the pressing of the computer keys. “I found a new song.”

He exhaled, wearily. “Seriously?”

“Wait before you judge,” she said. “Do you remember the time when you said, this is going to sound weird but, I was a rainbow?”

“No.”

“I hate you,” she said, darkly. “It was our first time in the attic. I had told you about –”

“I know, Hanji.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I remember.”

She grunted and said some things he couldn’t quite pick clearly under her breath. “You don’t really deserve this but since I’m a nice person I’ll let you listen to it.”

He snorted, lips curling on the corners, and he waited for the song to start. And not long after, he heard the first notes, then a soft voice of a woman followed. He also heard Hanji accompanying quietly behind, murmuring the lyrics alongside. Then he closed his eyes to focus on the song properly.

Dearest, I'm broken

My body is unspoken

How could I be loved?

Wake up in the morning

Feeling uncertain

Like a burning old scar

For I remember

The joy I’ve had as a child

Various colours I’m hiding inside

She’s a rainbow

And I am

A difficult man

It was as if the song, the lyrics, the notes, the singer’s voice were each had little hooks, they captured his soul relentlessly. He felt captive, unable to move. The song made him feel way too many things, with an intensity that nearly choke him as he lied there. His throat felt tight, even after the song ended, notes faded, and all he could hear was Hanji’s regular breaths a complete opposite of how his heart pounded at the moment.

“So?” She asked when he was unable to speak. “What do you think?”

Levi cleared his throat, he needed to talk dammit. “It was nice.”

“Just nice?” She didn’t sound pleased at his response. “But you have to listen to it every day Levi so that you wouldn’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” Was she kidding?

“We don’t know where life would take us,” Hanji told him, her voice calm now. “It’s the reality of the world. I’m just guarantying myself.”

Oh, so she didn’t know? That no matter where life carried him, no matter how high and wild the waves would be it would change nothing. The sun would rise from the west, and all the world would crumble, melt and disappear. But he wouldn’t forget her.

“What if you forget me?” Levi redirected the question to her, wondering her answer.

“I wouldn’t,” she said, not hesitating.

“How do you know?”

“If I’m a rainbow then that would make you the sky, remember?” Some distinct shuffling came to his ears, and he imagined her lying on her side, the phone still on speaker resting on top of her pillow. “Whenever I look up at the sky, I will think about you.”

“Sappy,” he whispered, ignoring the aftershock her words caused.

She chuckled in response and yawned loudly. “Only for you, clean-freak.”

*

Friday after the last class ended Hanji gathered up her things quickly. It had been an incredibly long and tiring week. She couldn’t wait to spend some time with Levi on the roof, just talking about things that didn’t matter, things that were easy to speak of because they were still young and had years ahead to take them seriously.

She waited for Levi outside, leaning against the school building as he went to the bathroom. She busied herself with observing the exhausted students leaving the school borders, chattering between themselves. It was getting chilly and the black denim jacket she was wearing didn’t do a good job at protecting her. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater to her palms to at least cover her hands. She spotted Petra a few inches away from where she was standing. She was walking back and forth, fiddling with a piece of paper she held in her hands. Hanji found it a little strange but shrugged, deciding it wasn’t her business.

Finally, among the rain of students that walked through the school gate, Levi appeared. His face and some parts of his hair damp, indicating that he had just washed his face.

“Feeling refreshed enough?” Hanji asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” Levi murmured, and he looked around briefly.

“Come on,” Hanji pushed herself up from the wall. “Let’s go. We better grab something to eat on the way. I’m starving.”

She had taken only a few steps when she heard Levi calling out to her quietly. “Hanji.”

“Mm?”

He appeared to be uneasy as he looked at her, brows knitted, and lips pressed. Curiosity rose within her swiftly as she expected the words he was about to say.

“I can’t come to the roof with you today.”

Of all the things she thought about that was the least, she had expected to hear. Her stomach started to burn again, and she imagined a cauldron inside. Burning so fiercely and it never promised anything good. “Why?” Hanji asked, sounding just as surprised as she possibly looked.

Levi’s eyes moved to somewhere above her shoulder. She wanted to trace his stare but was too busy observing his expression, a little anxious, tense and what? Embarrassed? But why?

“Levi?”

“I… am going to the cinema,” he blurted eventually, his eyes finding her again. “With Petra.”

Cinema… with Petra?

“As a date?” She sounded bewildered again as if she couldn’t believe her ears. It wasn’t something to be that surprised about considering their age, hormones and everything. But it was Levi. Levi… It had always been the two of them, now imagining him spending time alone with someone else—she hadn’t prepared herself for that.

“I guess,” Levi rubbed his neck. Oh, he was shy about it too? Was he excited, was he looking forward to it? Was he going to hold her hand as he held hers? Did he even  like  her? When had this thing happened anyway?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He seemed guilty, and he should be too. They were best friends for a reason. If she wasn’t going to be the first one to know about his first  date, what was the point to it?

“It happened just this Wednesday. I couldn’t find a proper time—”

“This Wednesday?” She tried not to reflect her disappointment in her voice. “It was two days ago, mind you. You had plenty of time.”

“Hanji—”

“Did you ask her out?” Hanji went on, not giving him any chance to speak. “How long have you liked her?”

“It’s not—” He frowned, his jaw tightened, and a blaze came to life in his eyes. “She asked me.”

“Oh? How brave!” She felt like laughing and somewhere deep inside she knew that she was exaggerating, that she should be happy for him instead. Yet the disappointment was much heavier, and it stood out so blatantly, so arrogantly that it didn’t give her any time to think reasonably.  

“Hanji, don’t.” He stepped forward but she withdrew in an instant.

“Have a nice date,” she said, and she failed at hiding the sarcasm behind. And she thought she saw a flickering of hurt in his eyes but didn’t stay long enough to acknowledge it. With a final look she gave to a confused Petra, she walked out of school. And the cauldron bubbled, bubbled and it burned, and it hurt. Then Hanji wished it would turn the wildflower to ashes to its roots so that it wouldn’t spring again. Wishful thinking it was because the wildflower was already the reason why the flames come alive in the first place.

*

Hanji didn’t quite remember when or how but she was sitting on the swing on the park near Levi’s house, the park they had buried the dead bird all those years ago. Strange how the years passed. She felt old for some reason despite the fact that she was only sixteen and life hadn’t even started for her yet. But she yearned for that little girl now, playing snowball fight with a boy who drank a little too much tea and swore a little too much for their age. Then she cursed at herself for being so frail, for letting her emotions draw the road she would walk.

The streetlamp near the park had a weak light. It trembled from time to time, squeaking as if it was at death’s door. She pondered it was a good metaphor as to how she felt now. Exaggerating? Maybe. But Levi had become such a constant in her life, it felt like the time Jack had crashed her glasses. She remembered how blurry everything seemed and how dizzy she had felt.

“Hanji?”

She blinked and following the voice she lifted her eyes up from the ground. It was Erwin, standing in front of her, with a curious expression painted on his face. What was he doing here?

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Hanji shook her head, realizing that she had been blinking at Erwin absently. Then nodded, voicing a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

He sat down on the swing next to her, dropping his school bag on the ground. It was a funny sight. A boy of Erwin’s age and height sitting on a child swing. His legs were much too long for that, but he used them to move back and forth slowly.

“I was just passing by,” he said, shrugging. “What are you doing here alone? Where’s Levi?”

She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact that whenever someone saw one of them alone, they immediately wondered where the other was.  I am acting like a child.  Then she started to move back and forth herself, holding the chains on either side. “He is on a date,” she informed Erwin. “With Petra.”

Then the movements of her legs fastened to the point where she had to curl them so that they wouldn’t slow her down. She used her body against the wind, it ruffled her hair, and her hair blocked her vision. And she thought about Levi who was with Petra and Petra who was kind and pretty. Petra who had shiny hair which was always combed and tidy. Petra who was funny and nice and—

“Hanji!”

Ah, her vision was blurry. Had she dropped her glasses again?

“Hey, slow down!”

She couldn’t slow down but someone, Erwin, she remembered, made her. He was holding the sides of the swing, kneeling down in front of her, he looked into her eyes. Hanji noticed his eyes were a different kind of blue not so fierce like the winter ocean, but kind and worried at the moment. Yellow, thick eyebrows knitted, “Are you okay?” Erwin asked.

It was the second time he had asked the same question and it confused her a bit. Did she look that bad? “Yeah,” she confirmed. Her voice came out cracked.

Then Erwin reached out with his hand. Hanji waited silently as he wiped her cheek with his thumb and under her chin with his knuckles. His hand shone under the shrieking light of the streetlamp when he withdrew it, with tears, she realized with a startle. She lifted her hand then, her eyes wide and touched her damp cheek.

“I can walk you home if you’d like,” Erwin offered with a voice so gentle Hanji thought she hated it. Hated because she didn’t want pity when she was the one that had brought this upon herself.

She blinked at her wet fingers, her sight getting blurry again and used her other hand to adjust her glasses.  She could walk herself home, and she opened her mouth to say that much to Erwin. But words betrayed her half-way and what came out was, “I’d appreciate that,” instead, as she accepted, silently. “Thank you.”

[marmosa]

hello 💕 i've just gone through your entire fred weasley and i absolutely love your writing and especially your dialogues, they feel v authentic and real xx i read that you have requests open so i'll leave you with an idea from my v detailed v self indulgent daydream cinematic universe starring fred weasley— post war (say a couple of years after) fred is the owner and manager of the hogsmead branch of the joke shop and sneaks into hogwarts to meet his fiancé, newly hired transfiguration (1/2)

thank you so much for the kind words and reading all my writing, i can’t begin to describe how much that means to me! i love the idea of fred sneaking into the castle to see his significant other, it’s so cute, i had to run a lap around my room just thinking about it. also in this house fred weasley never d worded, if you think he did, no he didn’t. also also, it got kinda sad at the end and i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for that to happen i- but anyways, hope you like it and thank you again for the compliment <3

word count: 1.6k

***

“Hey!”

Tink!

“Hey!”

Tink!

[y/n] looked up from the stack of papers arrayed on her desk and glanced around her study for the source of the noise, absolutely bewildered at who would possibly be bothering her at this hour. She prayed it wasn’t a student messing around with her, for she may have been a relatively new teacher but she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground against misbehaving kids.

The sound came again and this time she saw who it was her face lighting up before falling down as she scurried over to the window, unlatching the glass and pushing it open to find her fiancé sitting all high and mighty on his broom like this was a normal everyday occurrence.

“Fred Weasley! What in God’s name are you doing outside of my window? Why are you throwing stones at glass? Do you have any idea how high up I am?” She hissed, reaching for him, despite knowing full well he could only enter the room on his own accord.

He flew closer to the window and balanced himself on the ledge before grabbing her hand and hopping down onto the floor a giddy smile plastered on his lips, “I’m aware how high up this is, lest you forget I was one of the best Gryffindor beaters this school has ever seen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You do realize you could just come in through the front doors right? McGonagall isn’t going to smite you down for visiting your fiancée,” she deadpanned, latching the window back shut.

“Whatever? If I recall correctly, me being on the quidditch team all those years back had you absolutely smitten, or am I wrong,” he retorted smugly, completely brushing past her statement about walking through the front doors.

[y/n]’s face fell into one of embarrassment as she pushed past him back to her desk, not wanting to fuel his ego any more than she usually did, “Even so, you still can’t be sneaking onto campus. Especially during school hours, you know how it is, I would rather you be turned away at the door than get escorted out by the collar of your robes.”

“But it’s always school hours! Honestly [y/l/n], your new position has really given you a stick up the arse,” He grumbled, leaning back against one of the desks across from hers.

“[y/l/n]?” She repeated, offense written all over her face. Despite not taking it to heart she decided to mess with him a bit for being so stubborn.

Fred’s face fell and he was quick to rush over and apologize, “You know that’s not what I meant! Technically you’re not a Weasley anyway until the paperwork is done legally, so I’m not wrong.”

“I’m telling Molly you said that and she’s going to ground you just like she did 6th year when you got caught nicking something from Filche’s office,” [y/n] pouted, sinking into her chair and crossing her arms.

“You’re terrible you know that,” Fred deadpanned grabbing her cheeks in his hands, “don’t you say a word to my mother or she’ll make me bake you a cake or something.”

“I would quite like that actually, maybe I will tell her,” she replied, biting back a smile.

“Oh, come on! You know George was the one who got all the baking skills! That’s why he’s in charge of all the candy at our shops!” Fred whined, squeezing her face together slightly to try and return the teasing.

“Even if it turned out burnt and gross, I’d still like it because you made it,” she stated plainly, leaning up to try and snatch a kiss.

“Rubbish,” He replied, indulging her and accepting the kiss, smiling down at her when she beamed up at him.

“Whatever you say Freddie, y’know-,”

“Mrs. Weasley? Are you here? I had a question for you.”

All the color drained out of Fred’s face as he recognized McGonagall’s voice from across the room, [y/n]’s features mirroring the same horror as she pushed him off her and shoved him under her desk so he was as out of sight as she could make him.

“Yes- yes! I’m here Minerva, how can I help you?” [y/n] stuttered out, sliding her chair in as far as she could without injuring her soon to be husband.

“Well, I wanted to ask how the preparations were coming along for the annual Christmas Ball? I know you’ve been kept busy with recent exams, but the plans are top priority if we want to keep the spectacular turn out of our ball the same,” McGonagall explained walking up to her desk.

“Oh! The plans are coming along just fine, I haven’t quite finished drafting them up yet, but as soon as I do I’ll have them brought to you right away for approval,”  [y/n] assured her, trying her best not to let on how nervous she now was, trying not to get Fred caught.

“Spectacular! And I expect to see you down in the Hall later? Professors have to arrive early today for some announcement preparation,” McGonagall continued, thankfully still unaware of the hidden person in the room.

“Of course, thank you for letting me know ahead of time,” [y/n] nodded, pretending to assort some papers on her desk.

“Lovely,” McGonagall smiled, heading out of the room, but stopping before she exited the room, “Oh, and tell Mr. Weasley that I say hello, he’s been rather quiet about his surprise appearances to our school recently.”

“Will do!” [y/n] called after her, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in as soon as the door shut.

“Okay, how come you get to call her Minerva?” Fred complained, crawling out from under the desk, no visible panic at McGonagall’s leaving statement.

“All professors do. Besides, you’re a trouble-maker in her eyes, a darling, but a trouble-maker, she wouldn’t dream of giving you that kind of power,” [y/n] giggled, reaching up to rearrange his  ruffled hair, as he’d decided to grow it out again once he’d graduated.

“Trouble-maker,” Fred muttered, rolling his eyes, “Well she’ll be seeing a lot more of me whether she likes it or not, so I’ll win that privilege, eventually.”

“Whatever you say darling,” she hummed, scooting back in to continue grading her papers.

“You’re ignoring me already?” he groaned, letting his chin rest on the top of her head, arms slinging over her shoulders.

“I’ve got work to do Fred, I’m a professor now. I’m surprised you even had time to visit me, you’re a business owner now after all, it always amazes me how you have the time for these spontaneous visits- not that I don’t appreciate them,” she assured him, setting down her pen and squeezing his hands.

“I own the business, so I get to make my hours, unlike you,” he replied, moving his head so he was peeking over her shoulder.

“Is that supposed to be bad?” she quipped, leaning her head against his shoulder so she could kind of see him.

“Bad for me! I miss you! You’re here far too much,” Fred mumbled, intertwining their fingers.

“Well winter vacation is coming up soon, so you’ll be seeing much more of me. Hopefully you don’t get too sick of me,” she giggled, pursing her lips when he passed her a suggestive grin, “Ah, don’t look at me like that, that is not what I meant.”

“But it is and you know it darling,” Fred hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll come up with extra work to keep me here,” she warned, a teasing lilt to her threat.

“You wouldn’t. Besides even if you did, I’d kidnap you against your will. Also you wouldn’t hurt Molly like that, she always expects you for family festivities,” he replied simply, knowing she would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him.  

“You’ve got me there. You know me so well,” she sighed, reaching back so she could toy with the hair at the nap of his neck.

“I’d hope I know you well, you’re about to be my wife,” he chuckled, shutting his eyes at the sensation of her soft fingers against his skin.

“Touché, love, touché,” she hummed in agreement, her free hand twisting the engagement ring situated on his finger.

“Anyways, I should probably leave you to it, with your boring paperwork and grading and all,” he sighed, standing tall, her hands sliding away from him and into her lap.

“It’s not boring,” she frowned, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, trying not to cave but ultimately failing when he gave her a raised brow, “okay, maybe it’s a little boring.”  

“I knew it. No worries darling, I know you love it here, I’m only teasing. See you soon though?” He mused, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

“See you soon,” she replied, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, relishing in one another’s company for their limited time together.

“Farewell my love,” he announced, grabbing his broom and pushing himself onto the window sill, “see you around.”

“Fred wait!”

He laxed the position of his broom and turned around, an adoring smile stretching onto his lips as she pulled him for one last sweet kiss, placing a small object in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked as she peppered a few last kisses around his face, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

“It’s the locket you gave me, I finally put a picture in it, thought it was time to return it to you,” she smiled, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“You’re astounding,” he muttered, tucking the charm in his pocket, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bye Freddie,” she waved as he kissed her softly once more and took off into the setting sun, “see you soon.”

[glbertblyth]

AN: It’s been a long time shirbert fans... anybody still up for some fake-dating shenanigans? 

It was raining by the time Diana arrived—the sort of rainfall Anne might have basked in and even written a poem or two about if she’d had a mind for it. Instead, with Gilbert’s short visit still fresh in her mind, it only exacerbated her horrible mood.

Once out the door (slammed behind her, much to Marilla’s great woe), Anne threw her denim jacket overhead to avoid the inevitable ruination of the pretty outfit she’d decided on that day. The walk to the back door of her friend’s car was all it took to dampen her hair and muddy up her beloved white hightops. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what the state of her hair might be once dry again. The half hour she’d spent on taming the wild red lockes surely going down the drain with every squelching step she took. She shuddered to picture the disobedient strands frizzing and curling annoyingly around her shoulders.

“Anne!” was the first thing she heard when she opened the car door, her hands cold and clammy from grasping the freezing handle.  

It was Diana who had exclaimed it, smiling brightly from her spot in the driver’s seat. At its most brilliant sight, Anne’s sour mood nearly melted away - she did so love Diana’s smiles. So for a fleeting moment it was as if it were summer again and they were having one of their lovely days of sloth, with the sun vibrant on their skin as they lay in the fields behind Diana’s house watching the clouds slowly drift across the sky. No school to worry about or boys to try and decipher.

Then thunder rumbled and she was brought back to the present. Sitting wetly in the backseat of Diana’s car next to Jane and catching the very last few syllables of words mumbled from the front.

The brunette beside Anne reached across the gap in the seats to pinch Ruby, who squeaked indignantly.

“We brought coffee,” Diana went on, pulling out onto the road. The higher octave of her voice gave way to the obvious—she was being purposely breezy. Acting as if Anne hadn’t just opened the door and interrupted a conversation in which they had most definitely been talking about her. “I had them put an extra shot in yours because I know that’s the way you like it. Ruby? The coffee?”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she passed the drink to Anne. But she didn’t turn back around when it was in the red-head’s grasp, instead hovering there with an oddly expectant look on her face. A look, Anne realized, that was present on the other girl’s faces as well. Even Diana, big brown eyes wide like a doe’s in the rearview mirror.

“What?” she asked, pausing with her mouth halfway to the straw of her coffee and glancing around awkwardly.

When the only response was the low and torrid voice of Harry Styles drifting through the stereo and a raise of Jane’s eyebrows, Anne’s lips thinned in realization. The very word she had interrupted when she’d opened the door hadn’t been a word at all. It had been a name. Gilbert’s name.

Anne flopped her head back onto the cushioned seat, “Oh god,” she bemoaned. Could she not escape it for five minutes? Not even amongst her most beloved kindred spirits?

But there was nowhere to hide. Not with the three sets of eyes watching her so curiously. Waiting for her to give an explanation that she surely did not have. She was beginning to grow tired of Avonlea’s uncanny ability to spread gossip like wildfire.

“Watch the road,” Anne snapped at her best friend,  “or you’ll kill us all.”

Diana gasped and averted her gaze, focusing instead on navigating the road through the pelting rain.

“You can’t deny it happened,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all over everything.” Then she whipped out her phone, pulling up twitter as a way to prove her point.

“Don’t believe everything you read.” Anne snapped at her.

“So you’re saying it’s just a made up rumor?” asked Ruby, almost hopefully—because while Anne had despised Gilbert since the time she’d first laid eyes on him, Ruby had simply adored him. While Anne would spend every single valuable and precious minute of her English classes poking holes in Gilbert’s foolish arguments, Ruby was sitting not two seats away, mooning. It was exasperating.

“I’m just saying,” Anne folded her arms defensively across her chest, “there was a lot more to it than that.”

“So it happened?!” Ruby exclaimed, with such force she knocked her binder into Diana’s lap and almost spilled both of their drinks.

“Ruby!”

“Well I’m sorry but—this is—you can’t just act like this isn’t a big deal, Anne! He’s Gilbert! ”

“I’m well aware of who he is.”

“You hate him!”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she hated him. Of course. But it’s not as if she could tell the truth: that she had used Gilbert as a mere line of defense against dearest Diana’s cousin—her very own flesh and blood. Though how that was possible was beyond Anne considering he was so insufferably annoying, whereas Diana was so sweet and kind and considerate. She never would have pushed anyone the way that Roy had Anne. She never would have refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, never would have imposed so thoroughly on Anne’s personal space that she felt as if suddenly all of the oxygen in the world had run out except what was left in her lungs.

Hell, even Gilbert had taken Anne’s ‘no’ at face value. He had nodded and left, much to her great relief. And how terrible a concept to consider: Marilla inviting him to stay for breakfast! What would she have done then?

“Anne,” Jane poked her cheek. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Like hell she did. Maybe the decision to kiss Gilbert had been rash, but she wouldn’t have done it had she not felt as though she’d been forced into a corner. And while she did hate Gilbert’s guts, the mere aspect of her kissing him shouldn’t have been ground breaking news. He’d been there. She’d used him as a shield. That was it.

Even if the memory of his lips moving fervently against her own had haunted her dreams all night, it was nobody else's business. After all, he’d technically been her first real kiss. And even if she did think him an insufferable pompous ass, she wasn’t entirely incapable of admitting that he was a rather good-looking boy. She wasn’t blind for chrissake.

But even so, she had absolutely no intention of that little tidbit of information ever leaving the confines of her own mind. Nobody needed to know that she found Gilbert Blythe attractive. Or that she may have very mildly delighted in the fact that he’d been so quick to kiss her back. Or—or that she’d felt a bit of a thrill when she’d seen him again that very morning; a thrill that may or may not have caused her to even entertain the plan that he’d so eloquently presented to her.

The severity of the realization jolted her. Rose her blood levels to an alarming height. Had she just admitted to anticipating Gilbert’s presence?

“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you!” Anne exploded. Though she couldn’t tell if her anger was directed at her friends, at herself, or at the mere prospect of having anything but ill feelings toward her long time rival.  “What I do with my life is nobody’s business but my own! I don’t intrude on your private lives like this.”

Ruby shrunk back, but Jane wasn’t deterred. Everyone knew Anne had a terrible temper sometimes. When she yelled it was usually because she felt like she’d been backed into a corner and couldn’t see an escape besides pushing everyone else away.

“Sorry, Anne, but I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff. They don’t keep secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.” Anne grumbled. But she knew it was a weak argument. That her friend was right and that she had absolutely no excuse as to why she should keep the truth from them.

Because you’re actually considering Gilbert’s offer, a vexing voice said in her head,  And telling them you only did it as a way to escape Royal would ruin it. The voice only annoyed her more despite its truth.

Anne took a sip of her coffee with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any excuse to avoid talking on the subject further. Avoid meeting the tense stares of her friends.

“I don’t see why it would be such a big deal that you kissed him anyway. Half of our grade has been expecting you two to jump each other’s bones for years.” Jane shrugged nonchalantly.

Anne felt the large gulp lodge in her throat as she choked out a cough, “What?”  

Ruby craned her neck around to face her, baby blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Diana released a quiet titter of laughter but didn’t take her eyes off the road.

Traitor.

Jane rolled her eyes exasperatedly, briefly meeting the hurt look of their sensitive friend,  “Oh give up, Ruby. He’s known you his whole life and hasn’t made an attempt at you,” When Ruby faced the front again, lower lip jutted out in a pout, her dark gaze swiveled back to Anne’s, “ You , however, caught his attention from the moment you arrived.”

Anne flared her nostrils indignantly, “Not true.”

The girl next to her threw her hands up in frustration, “It is too!”

“Is not.”

“What are we, five?” Jane quipped. And then her face turned smug, “Besides, you guys did end up kissing, didn’t you?”

Jesus, it was a good thing they’d barely missed seeing Gilbert at green gables. Anne hated to think how insufferable her friends might have been had they known he’d stopped by that morning.

She let out a dramatic huff, placing her coffee in the cupholder between them and then crossing her arms to her chest. “Do you just believe everything that Josie Pye posts?”

Jane opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Ruby turned around in her seat again, “We don’t have to. You’ve been evasive enough to answer the question on if you kissed him or not for us.” She said with an adorable scrunch to her eyebrows. It was obvious she was stung but didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside of the car, mirroring Anne’s emotions perfectly. Oh, how she wished she were a storm cloud sometimes. Floating above it all, no care in the world. No expectations except for that of releasing their torrential rage on unsuspecting passers-by. Perhaps if that were her, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in such a messy situation.

She watched as the windshield wipers slapped at the front window, avoiding looking her friends in their eyes. “How far are we from the school?” she grumbled. Though it was certainly going to be a tough task in it’s own, it would be better than sitting under the excruciating scrutiny of the three girls she was trapped in the small car with.

Diana cleared her throat. “Just another block,” she said.

“If you want me to make sure Josie stays off your back today, I need to have the details.” Jane stated simply.

Anne ground her teeth at the annoying tenacity of her friend.  “There aren’t any.”

“There aren’t any? ”

“That’s what I said.”

“How could there possibly not be—“

“Jane!” Anne snapped, teeth gnashing out like that of a caged dog’s, “Just drop it!”

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Jane snapped her mouth shut. No other sound but the constant pattering of the rain against the windows and the quiet hum of the radio. In the rearview mirror, Diana exchanged a sympathetic look with Anne.

“Fine,” Jane said finally, a cool resolve in her brown eyes, “But just because you hate Gilbert doesn’t mean everyone else does. If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll just ask him.”

Anne stiffened—every muscle in her body pulling taut as she fought the urge to strike out with her constant weapon of choice: words.

Gilbert wouldn’t sell her out… would he? Not when he himself was riding on the possibility of a public relationship saving face.

God, would pretending to date him actually work? Could they even do it? Could she do it? Certainly he’d do something to piss her off. Something that would cause her to lash out and make it obvious that they were not, and would never actually be, in a relationship.

The thoughts tormented her as Diana pulled the car into the student parking lot. As she parked in her normal spot near the entrance. As she turned off the engine and they were swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. How fitting to see that Mother Nature bore such a pitiful mood—gray clouds swirling in the sky the very same way Anne’s feelings were swirling in her head.

As her friends giggled amongst themselves—already having moved on to the next subject of interest and opening their car doors—she took a shaking deep breath. Steeling herself against whatever the day might throw at her and clambering out of the car into sheets of cold rain.  

+++

When the lunch bell rang, releasing students from their third period classes, Anne’s relief was as palpable as a cool wave crashing against a hot sandy shore. She gathered her things hastily—stuffing them into her bag and barely zipping it back up before hurrying from her calculus class and out into the crowded hallway.

She had very little want of being left in the classroom with a certain tall, dark, and tousled boy. And since that was how things normally went—since Anne and Gilbert were usually the last two left in the classroom, quickly scrawling the last of their work out on the worksheets before them—her rush to leave the confines of the classroom wasn’t without warrant.

Not for the first time since being acquainted with Gilbert Blythe, Anne cursed the fact that they shared a fair amount of classes. (Or unfair if you’d asked her.) But this day… This day had taken her dislike to an entirely different level.

Or maybe dislike wasn’t the correct word for the churning she felt in her stomach every time she’d caught a glimpse of his disheveled dark curls across the room. Maybe awkwardness was the proper noun with which to describe the tension she felt pulled taut between them. If she could even assume it was a reciprocated tension in the first place, that is. She certainly felt it—choking the air around her like a thick and unwanted layer of dust. But… Gilbert hadn’t necessarily shown any discomfort at the sight of her. He’d backed off on making his usual snide comments or witty remarks, yes, but she wasn’t positive that it was because he was playing an angle or if he genuinely thought it better to leave her alone.  

Nevertheless, it made Anne’s gut twist uncomfortably. And because the whole school seemed to already know what had transpired the previous afternoon, she loathed to even look in his direction let alone exchange their usual haughty comments. She had, in not so many words, been avoiding him for the entirety of the school day—ducking out of shared classes with all the speed of a bulleting train and keeping her line of vision pinned straight ahead even when she felt his warm honey gaze settle on the side of her face.

This, of course, did not escape the notice of her ever so nosy classmates. In fact, the fervent silence between the two known rivals after such an unexpected public display of affection had only caused an even deeper upset among her peers. Anne liked to think she had learned to never underestimate the might of a small town’s grape vine, but she certainly hadn’t expected such… such backlash from one simple spontaneous moment in time.

To walk through the hallways of her familiar high school and notice the boisterous noise of groups dwindle around her felt much like her early days in Avonlea—except this time, instead of having smacked the town’s golden boy with a heavy textbook, she’d kissed him. And apparently that warranted an even more uproarious reaction.

Anne pushed through the crowd of students and scrambled to her locker—head down in an attempt to ignore the whispers around her. She’d thought that, after three and a half years, she had moved past the days of being an outcast; past the days of being a subject of interest on nearly every one of her classmate’s tongues.

Apparently she’d been wrong. All this time they’d only been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the precise moment she did anything out of the ordinary, so that they could pounce.

As she exchanged binders and textbooks with what had been stacked neatly in her locker, she was so thoroughly enveloped in her own vortex of thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the tall and skinny figure approach her.

“Anne,” the figure said. And despite the familiar trill of the voice, she startled, nearly slamming her fingers in the locker as she’d closed it.

“Dammit, Cole,” she hissed, but there was a smile beneath it.

She turned to her friend, a feeling of ease settling on her shoulders as it always had around Cole Mackenzie. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands wrung loosely around the straps of his backpack and his familiar blue eyes were warm with affection. After a moment, Anne realized there was a dark smudge just under his right eye—more than likely a result of wiping at his face after working with charcoal or graphite. A quick glance at his smeared hands confirmed just as much.

“You’ve got art on your face,” she said, gesturing at her own as a way to show him.

He released a breathy laugh before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it off. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner, I got caught up in class.”

Anne snorted despite herself. “Sure you did,” she said. “Keep acting like you weren’t flirting with that new exchange student.” She twisted her mouth into a feigned look of utter despair, “You left me to the wolves.”

Cole laughed as she schooled her features back to their normal, friendly state and swung her bag around her shoulder. She entwined her hand with his as they made their way in the direction of the cafeteria.

He fixed her with a faux imperious look. “I was only showing Gabriel the precise way of shading. Charcoal is a difficult medium to work with.”

“Don’t tell me,” Anne lowered her voice, acting as though what she was about to say was an absolute scandal, “You stood behind him and guided his hand with your own, heart pounding against his back as he leaned into you.” She caught at her chest with her free hand, “Oh, how romantic! ” she squealed, much louder than she’d meant to. A few students looked in their direction.

An exasperated laugh burst from her friend’s lips and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Not so loud, Anne.”

She shrugged. “People are gay, Cole. They can get over it.”

Cole wasn’t necessarily closeted. It was a pretty well-known fact within their friend group that he was very much homosexual—you have one conversation with him and he just couldn’t hold back his flamboyancy— but the world was still filled with small-minded bigots. And in a small town like the one they lived in, it was easier just to keep the knowledge of his sexual preference to a minimum.

“I suppose this means our vow to marry one another is broken,” she continued forlornly. It was a joking promise they’d made to one another when they were fifteen and certain they’d be deemed outcasts forever—no one but each other to lean on.

Of course, she’d had Diana. Beautiful Diana. But there were many things Anne experienced that her beloved best friend just couldn’t understand. Diana was popular, beautiful, a glittering star among the backdrop of the night sky—something with which Anne found little to no relatability being the scrawny ostracized girl that she was. But Cole’s friendship allowed a quiet solace; a person who knew what it was like to feel unwanted and unpopular.

Cole snorted. “You broke it first,” he said, “What do Gilbert Blythe’s lips feel like?”

Anne nearly tripped over her own two feet, having briefly forgotten the mess she’d gotten herself into. She snapped her head to look at the tall boy beside her and fixed him with a desperate glare. The look on his face was nonchalant, but she knew he was dying with curiosity.

“Why’d you have to bring that up?” she said, unable to help the whiny tone that had weaved itself into her words.

Cole clucked his tongue. “You left me on read last night. You deserve it.”

“I think I’ve gotten punishment enough,” she replied, a frown twisting at her lips. “It’s all anybody can talk about when they see me.”

He looked at her. “Anne. You kissed Gilbert Blythe . ”

“Yes, I know what I did.”

“Gilbert. Blythe.”

Anne unlatched her hand from Cole’s and threw her arms up exasperatedly. “Can people stop saying his name as if I don’t know who he is!?”

They turned down a slightly less crowded hallway, taking a shortcut they’d found halfway through their freshman year. “Can you stop brushing it off like it’s no big deal?”

“It isn’t a big deal.” Anne grumbled.

He ignored her. “How’d it happen anyway?”

There was a tearing feeling in her stomach—indecision on if she should tell him the truth of the matter or not. The small part of her brain that was hung on Gilbert’s earlier suggestion rioted at her to choose not.

It won. “It just—happened. Okay?”

Cole screwed his nose up. “What does that even mean? ” he said. “What, did you just randomly see him and say ‘fuck it, I’mma give into the three years of overwhelming sexual tension’ and decide to eat his face off?”

Anne blanched at him, stopping dead walk in the middle of the hallway. “Sexual tension?” she sputtered. “Have you been talking to Jane?”

Cole released a light laugh at the expression on her face. “No, but I’m not surprised she feels the same way. Everybody does.”

“I hate it here.” Anne said sadly, mouth turning down at one corner. What a piteous thing to confuse hatred with sexual desire. Because certainly— certainly —Cole and Jane were wrong. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Gilbert Blythe. None whatsoever. And she was positive in the fact that there never would be.

“Drama queen.”

“How observant of you,” Anne replied, beginning to make her way down the hallway again. “It’s as if we’re friends. Almost like you know me.”

Her blonde companion snorted, but followed after her.

“Apparently not,” he continued vexingly. “Not if you’re sucking face with Gilbert frickin’ Blythe.”

“Cole, I love you, I really do. But if you don’t shut up right this very moment, I will not hesitate to murder you.”

“Anne—“

“I’m serious,” she said, “I live on a farm—lots of sharp tools at my disposal, Mackenzie. Don’t push me.”

He laughed—a short and exasperated release of breath. “Has anybody ever told you you’re kinda scary when you want to be?”

She glanced over to where he was matching her stride beside her, smiling crookedly and impishly.

Cole’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Please don’t flash me your murder eyes. It gives me the creeps.”

Reaching across the space between them with her arm, she patted his shoulder lightly. “Good.”

They lapsed into casual conversation then, walking quickly the rest of the way to the cafeteria and occasionally bumping each other’s shoulders teasingly. She really did appreciate Cole, she decided. Well, she’d always appreciated him—but unlike the rest of her companions, he never pushed her to talk about the things he knew she was most uncomfortable with. Teased her relentlessly maybe—okay, certainly —but he always, always, knew when enough was enough.

As they passed through the metal-doored threshold of Avonlea High’s sorry excuse for a cafeteria, (even their library was larger than the sparsely decorated area—hardly even eight long tables adorning the length of the walls and smaller rounded ones few and far between) Anne startled at the absolute terror she was faced with.

Being such a small school, the majority of the senior class was pushed into the same lunch schedule. Meaning all the kids she’d grown with for the past few years—all the classmates that knew most definitely about Anne’s adamant hatred towards one Gilbert Blythe—paused fractionally when they noticed her fiery mane out of the corners of their eyes.

Anne’s heart rate kicked up, stomach twisting painfully as the cafeteria quieted ever so slightly and heads swiveled to gawk at her.

She felt Cole’s hand squeeze hers. “Christ,” he mumbled beside her. “They really don’t have any lives do they.”

She snorted, eased slightly by his encouraging and easy-going presence. “Our school doesn’t even have a total of five-hundred students. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened since you showed sophomore year and Billie Andrews made it his mission to torment you.”

Her friend winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Shit, sorr—“

“Anne!”

The breath that had frozen in Anne’s chest upon realizing the upset she’d caused when first entering the cafeteria thawed the rest of the way at the familiar cadence of Diana’s voice. She could see her friend’s veil of dark hair, her infectious smile big and bright as she stood from their usual table tucked in the far corner of the room. The rest of her friends, still sitting, waved to her gregariously.

Friends, Anne reminded herself. Those are your friends and not even the disastrous evening before and whatever trouble Gilbert Blythe insights next can take them away from you.

She felt a warm smile tug at her lips as she moved toward the familiar corner, pulling Cole behind her as she went. But as she got closer, doubt crept into her mind. She saw the nervous glances Tillie, Jane and Ruby exchanged with one another—however miniscule they might have tried to make them seem. The scrunch of Diana’s nose, bringing her hand down from her enthusiastic wave and rubbing at a non-existent itch. Anne recognized it immediately as her bosom friend’s nervous tick.

Her steps slowed as she approached the table, nearly causing Cole to stumble into her from where he’d been following behind. Josie Pye—she was sitting straight backed, arms folded across her chest and an accusing glare flashing in her blue eyes.

Oh no.

Now this— this was the part she’d forgotten all about. Josephine Pye and her ridiculous aversion to amiable conversation. Her insufferable adamance on making Anne’s existence appear as a show for all the school to see. Josie fancied herself a puppet master, tugging at the strings on Anne’s back from the very first moment they’d met. And though a tedious friendship had developed between the two over the last few years, some things just never changed.

“Hey,” Anne squeaked out, instantly noticing how guilty she already sounded. She winced, sat stiffly on the stool across from her friends.

Cole rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, shoved his bookbag towards the end of the table and folded his artist hands in front of him as he leveled Josie with a shockingly protective gaze.

“There will be absolutely no mentions of a certain happening with a certain someone taking place at a certain time yesterday afternoon, got it?” His voice left no room for discussion.

Diana nodded eagerly, reaching across the table and giving Anne a sympathetic squeeze of the hand. Jane pursed her lips, obviously wanting to say something, anything, about the unfinished conversation the girls had all had in the car that morning—but seemed to think better of it. Tillie and Ruby, always the more soft spoken of the group, simply sat quietly, glancing between Cole and Josie, the latter of which had narrowed her eyes in an obvious challenge.

The blonde grenade snapped her eyes to Anne instead. “I think that—“

“No.” Anne said icily, surprising herself. She’d never been one to overtly challenge Josie. But after dealing with Royal Gardner and Gilbert Blythe and every single pair of eyes that had followed and judged and questioned her all morning, she’d had enough.

She cleared her throat, “No,” she tried again, less hostile this time. “We will not be discussing the kiss because it’s my business and I owe absolutely nobody an explanation.”

“Periodt,” chimed Cole, snapping his fingers. Diana giggled, attempting to smother it with her hand but failing rather obviously.

Tillie’s eyes had turned wide as saucers. “So it’s true? You and Gilbert kissed?”

“Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Josie snapped, “And obviously—“

“Josie, Anne literally just said we weren’t discussing it.” Diana huffed. It was the most annoyed Anne had ever seen her act with Josie—it made her want to tackle her best friend in a hug. “Please just drop the subject, okay? If she wants to explain herself then she will.”

“Must I repeat myself?” Cole raised an eyebrow at the blonde dragon across from him who was just barely containing the angry smoke Anne was sure to pore from her nostrils.

“Please,” replied Jane, amused.

“Periodt!” And he gave another flamboyant snap of his fingers.

Josie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You guys are dumb,” she said to the snickering gaggle of girls beside her, then she faced Anne again. “Look, I’m not one to really care all that much about your romantic life—“

Cole opened his mouth to protest but without even glancing his way, Josie cut herself off and snapped, “Shut it, Mackenzie.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of defeat.

“But as your friend,” loosely Anne had to bite back from commenting as Josie continued, “I worry about what this means for your… reputation.”

“Oh, for the love of god, Josephine Pye. We’re in high school, not running for the frickin’ electoral college. I promise you, me kissing somebody is not that deep.”

Did any of them have lives?

A throat cleared beside her—Cole’s. “I mean,” he said quietly, “it kind of is when you’ve vowed to hate said kissee for the rest of your days. ‘So long as you bring air into your lungs’ I believe were your exact words.”

Anne snapped her head over to her traitorous friend, one who’d not moments ago was just defending her.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The gays,” he said solemnly. And then, upon seeing Anne’s unamused look, “Joking, joking—I mean, not joking obviously, but… Look, Anne. As overdramatic as Josie is being—“ said girl harrumphed impertinently, “—Everybody and their mother knows how much you hate Gilbert. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you, girl, but this whole situation is questionable in the least.”

“I just want you to know,” began Anne, “How much I hate all of you right now, nevermind Gilbert.”

“Hey!” Tillie protested, “I haven’t done a single thing besides ask if the rumor was true in the first place.”

“Tillie Boulter with-holding.”

Jane opened her mouth, “I—“

“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Jane Andrews.”

Anne was so incredibly and entirely tired of this entire situation. So much for not talking about it… God, she should just out and admit the reasoning already. Clear the air, make sure that everybody knew it was a farce. A ploy to get Roy Gardner to finally leave her alone.

Who was she kidding anyway? Even entertaining the idea that Gilbert had planted in her head earlier that morning was absolute insanity. Them? Dating? Imagine the uproar then. If her classmates were so nosy as to be absolutely entranced by the fact that they simply kissed, imagine if they announced they were dating .

Oh dearest Snow Queen, she asked of her longest comfort, What would you do?

She set her jaw then, determining it was time to come clean. “Listen, guys. Gilbert and I didn’t actually—“

“Anne?”

She froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take a single breath for what felt like a solid thirty seconds. Her friends all startled to look behind her, Cole craning his neck to meet the gaze of probably the absolute last person Anne wanted to see right then.

“Roy!” Diana chirped with false cheer. Her eyes flit between Anne and the monstrous cad that stood behind her, betraying the panic she felt on behalf of her best friend. “I thought you had B lunch?”

Anne refused to turn around, still frozen as she watched, horrified, as all her friends looked at each other confused and curious.

“Well, I did. But the adviser decided to switch some of my classes around. She thought it would be best if I stayed with the rest of the senior class even if British academia didn’t quite meet up with American—Anne, are you trying to hide?”

She was, she totally, full-heartedly was. She’d sunk into herself, almost as if she were trying to allow the lunch table to swallow her whole.

“Anne, sit up ,” Josie hissed at her. Was she—god, was she batting her eyelashes at the boy behind her? The boy in which Anne could very clearly feel inching closer to her with every second she didn’t acknowledge him?

She took a deep breath, turned around in her seat finally for fear that he might reach out and touch her, place his disgustingly delicate and nimble hand on her shoulder. “Roy,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hullo.” Roy replied, probably smiling in a way he thought was enormously charming. “Your dress is quite beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the one wearing it, I might say. Almost .”

Oh, for the love of all that is good and— He was insufferable. Anger, white hot and immediate bubbled in her blood.

“What do you want?” She said, rather bluntly. Cole elbowed her in the arm, shot her a confused look. I’ll explain later, she hoped her face portrayed to him.

Diana, ever the mediator, cleared her throat. “Royal. These are my friends. Tillie, Ruby, Jane, Josie, and Cole.” Cole watched him hesitantly, the girls all exchanged giddy glances. “Of course, you already know Anne.”

“How could I ever forget.”

Anne had to resist the urge to feign a gag.

“Anyways. Guys, this is my cousin Royal.”

“Roy. Call me Roy,” he said. But he didn’t even glance at them, his eyes were trained solely on Anne’s. And Anne rather wanted to punch him in his obnoxiously pert nose.

“It’s nice to meet you, Roy—“ Ruby had begun, but the miscreant cut her off, paying sweet Ruby no attention.

“Anne, I was hoping we might talk?”

Anne clenched her jaw, fought to keep from squeezing her eyes closed in exasperation at the sheer audacity Roy had to even ask that of her.

Right. This was why she’d entertained Gilbert’s plan. This was why she had desperately kissed him. Because Royal Gardner had no boundaries and despite being related to her best and closest friend, every moment spent in his presence was a moment she knew she’d never get back.

“Talk,” she said stiffly. She stood up, grabbed a confused Cole’s hand and yanked him up beside her. “But make it fast because Cole and I still haven’t had a chance to get in the lunch line.”

“I am… so confused.” Anne heard one of the girls say behind her. Diana shushed her.

“Privately? Perhaps?”

She was seriously going to punch this boy in the face. Like, actually. Right there in front of everybody.

“Privately?” Anne snapped coldly, her fury like fire in her veins. She stepped around him, cornered him to the table, making sure her back was to the rest of the cafeteria. Too many rumors were already circulating around her. If she caused a scene, lord knew she’d never come back from it. “Are you joking?”

She saw Cole step back from the corner of her eye, scuttle to the other side of the cafeteria table with the girls. All their eyes were wide and unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Anne, there’s no need for such hostility. I was just trying to—“

“Deliberately make her uncomfortable?” a new voice chimed in from behind her. There was an unrecognizable hardness to it, incongruous to all of the other times she had heard it before. Across from her, her friends' eyes widened impossibly, gazes landing on the new addition to the already intolerable conversation.

Anne could feel as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned toward them, a sure spectacle to behold.

She watched as Roy’s jaw hardened, eyes trained behind her with a new intensity as he tracked the movements of Gilbert Blythe lazily sidling up beside Anne.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting,” Gilbert said as he threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders. She had to fight to keep from stiffening up, knew what he was doing, knew exactly what game he was playing at as he pulled her closer to his side and tucked her neatly beneath his arm. And while her blood boiled at his intrusion, at the audacity he had to come running in like he thought he was  some god-awful knight-in-shining-armor, at the way her friends’ expressions all changed immediately—all smirking and knowing and not nearly as surprised as she thought they’d be—the smallest part of her was relieved.

Relieved.

Like she’d still been gunning for that stupid, ludicrous plan that Gilbert had blabbered on about that very morning to actually work. Which in itself was most positively and unmitigatedly not going to happen in a million—

“Right. Is this him then?” The accusation in Roy’s voice broke Anne from her spiraling thoughts, solidifying the situation she was in. There, in front of all of her friends and essentially the entire senior class, she was facing off with one of the most impudent males she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And, lord above, Gilbert Blythe of all people was the only person with the ability to make Roy leave her alone.

“Just a few months.” His words pinged around in her mind, “We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again .”

She scowled, resisting the urge to fidget beneath Gilbert’s arm. The heat radiating from his body where their sides were pressed flush together was rather difficult to ignore. She felt as though she could feel it fuse with her blood, travel through her veins and warm her cheeks, her toes, clog up her lungs.

“Is this who?” Anne replied, her scowl deepening.

“The boyfriend. The reason I can’t pursue you… or so you say.”

A choking sound came from her group of friends, though she absolutely refused to look in their direction. She was positive that the fire she felt across her cheeks no longer had anything to do with Gilbert’s body heat.

Roy raised a single brow when she opened her mouth, snapped it back shut immediately—a fish floundering on dry land. Gilbert’s arm tightened around her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it only made her want to elbow him in the side. The mortification leaching any and all relief she’d previously felt by his presence.

“I—uh,” she stuttered. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?

“My god, he broke her,” she heard Cole whisper.

“Anne? You did tell me you had one, right?” Roy’s eyebrow was still raised, the brazen confidence leaking from every pore. She hated him, she decided. Hated him more than the curly haired boy whose arm was wrapped around her and whose current silence felt like a ticking time bomb.

“I did,” she replied, and to her utmost horror it came out weakly.

“As much as I love being talked about as if I’m not standing right here,” Gilbert interjected, and Anne wasn’t sure if he’d noticed it but his thumb had started rubbing tiny comforting circles where it rested on her upper arm, “Anne doesn’t owe you an explanation. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing. So whether she has a boyfriend or not—whether I’m that boyfriend or not—is none of your business.”

Woah.

Wait a minute, not woah , what the hell? Had he really said that? Had it really made her heart rate kick up in her chest at the way he’d not only defended her but her right to make her own choices without explanation?

Royal blinked, opened his mouth, closed it. But Gilbert ignored him, turned his head to face Anne. The expression on his face said It’s up to you , the small curve at the corner of his mouth added, Carrots.

She closed her eyes, counted one, two, before opening them back up and meeting Roy’s gaze.

God help her.

“Yeah, Roy,” she said, swallowed thickly, “Gilbert is my boyfriend."

[unmaskedagain]

Agent Marinette

Okay I have struggled all week with a massive case of Writers block and today I beat it. This a crossover fic. Guess it by the end.

In retrospect, Marinette should’ve realized eventually other forces outside of Paris would take an interest in the masked heroine. At least they had been polite enough to wait until AFTER Hawkmoth was defeated.  

Marinette was eleven when she became the hero Ladybug. And her world shattered a bit.

Marinette was fourteen when Hawkmoth was finally defeated.

Marinette was fourteen when Ladybug retired. And her world shattered again, this time a bit more.

It had taken nearly every miraculous they had to take the villain down but eventually, Gabriel Agreste was taken down, his memories of the miraculous erased. (Nathalie with him) His son Adrien Agreste surrendered his own miraculous, his position as Chat Noir, and his own memories of being a hero and everything he’d ever learned of magic and Kwami. All to prevent his father from ever learning of them again.

However, erasing his memories of his life as Chat Noir, unavoidably included erasing his memories of his friendship Ladybug, with Marinette. A friendship that had grown stronger, in and outside the mask, over fighting the evil that haunted Paris back together. Keyword: together.

On the same day, Ladybug had lost her best friend, Marinette did too. Both lost the boy she thought she’d marry one day. They could never be together. She’d have to lie to him for the rest of their lives. Marinette would never be able to do that. And she wouldn’t let Adrien’s sacrifice be in vain.

So she distanced herself from him. She couldn’t look at him without seeing Chat Noir. She couldn’t look at him, knowing she knew just about everything about him but he knew nothing about her. To him, Marinette was just some girl in his class; a sort of friend he was never really that close to.

Strangers, really.

It was why Marinette transferred out of Bustier’s class. The best thing for her heart was to stay away.

Still, she thought in a way, it was a happy ending. The best happy ending she could get. Hawkmoth was gone. Paris was safe. Ladybug was retired. Fu had reclaimed all Kwami and had disappeared. The world was good.

Until it wasn’t. Until one rainy Thursday. Her parents had gone out for a date night. They never made it home. There had been an accident. The other driver had been drunk. The funeral was on a Tuesday.

Marinette’s world had shattered once again, more than ever before.

Marinette was an orphan.

Her grandmother Gina sold the bakery, put the money from the sale and the life insurance into an account for Marinette, and moved Marinette into a nearby apartment, and then was gone. Legally, the older woman was Marinette’s guardian. But otherwise, Marinette was on her own. It was fine. Her dad had always warned her that his mom was a free spirit who never liked to be tied down.

She would talk with her grandmother once every other month if she was lucky. They primarily only communicated through email. The reception was spotted in the parts of the world Gina like to frequent.

At only fourteen, Marinette got used to paying bills, buying groceries, and virtually being an adult. She got used to living alone. Just like she got used to not being a hero anymore. Just like she got used to not having any friends after Lila came knocking on the class’s door.

A year later, the young girl was thriving. Her grades were at the top of the school, right after Max. She was class treasurer and on the track team, having missed the feeling of running as fast she could. She started Kuoshu classes; her mother had always wanted her to learn Chinse martial arts for defense. And Marinette missed the adrenaline she used to get after a fight.

It was a good life. A simple life. Marinette had only normal life worries to be concerned about.

…Again, she really should’ve known the other shoe would drop eventually.

Still, no fifteen-year-old girl who was minding her own business, casually walking down the street, wanted to suddenly have a black bag over her and tossed into the back of a van. In fact, it was every girl, woman, and human being’s worst nightmare.

She was tied up. She was gagged. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. Marinette had no idea how much time had passed. Or where they were taking her. Or who had taken her? She fought the tears that burned in her eyes as she struggled with the bonds around her hands. No matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t break or budge. By the coldness of it, she knew she was either in handcuff or something similar made of metal.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Marinette felt herself be picked up and carried. She struggled against her assailant. She tried to kick her with her bound legs, hit with her tied fists. Nothing.

Marinette found herself being lower onto something. A chair she quickly realizes as she pressed her back to it.

Suddenly, the metal band around her hands released. Marinette quickly pulled the black bag off her head, undid the tap around her mouth, and took the plugs out of her ears.

She was in a mostly black room that only lights overhead, a vent the size of a phone, the table she sat at, and a large mirror across from her. Marinette figured it was a two-way mirror-like on cop shows, and that she was being watched. However, what concerned her most was that there was no sign of any door. Just walls and that mirror.

There was no escape.

Marinette glared at the mirror, at whoever was behind it.

She didn’t know how long she waited as she plotted her escape. Considering all variables for when they came back to her. Would they have guns? How many people would there be? Could she fight her way out? And just who her kidnappers could be? Child traffickers? Serial killer? Her past enemy, Hawkmoth, comes back for revenge? Who?

When a portion of the wall, next to the mirror opened, Marinette tried not to flinch back in surprise.

In walked a man at least twice her age. He wore a black suit and tie with a serious expression on his face. He was handsome with short dark hair and dark eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass.

The door closed behind him once he stepped through. He said nothing as he sat down in the chair across from her. They started at each other silently.

           Marinette cracked first, “Who are you? What do you want? Where am I?”

           A small smile appeared on the man’s face, “You’re a very hard girl to track down, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d have thought it would’ve been easier considering all you’ve done.” He had an American accent.

“Track? What?” Why would he want to track her down? “I didn’t do anything. Nothing! Okay?!”

           He gave her a curious look, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t call saving all of Paris on a nearly everyday basis for what two years, nothing.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t try to deny it. We have pictures, videos; evidence.”

           It was like someone had thrown ice water over her head. Marinette swallowed the lump that had built in her throat. “Who. Are. You.” She managed to get out.

“Me? I’m a friend,” He answered. “You can call me Black Heart.”

“Black Heart?” Marinette snorted. “You’re serious?”

“Oh because Ladybug is so much better,” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I have questions. You’re going to answer them.”

           He wanted to know about the miraculous, she guessed. Or how she got her powers. Marinette crossed her arms, “I have nothing to say.”

           Black Heart chuckled and stood up. He put his hands on the table, “Listen very carefully, Marinette. Because there are only two ways we can do this.”

           Marinette smirked, “Is one of them the easy way?”

           A look she couldn’t recognize briefly flashed over Black Heart’s face but gone just as quick. “No,” He answered.

“Oh.”

“Who are you?” He asked her.

           She paused before answering, “…My name is Marinette but you know that. I was the hero Ladybug but you know that as well.”

“What happened to HawkMoth?”

           She felt fine answering that. However, she gave the same answer she gave to the press, “Hawkmoth was defeated. He was stripped of his powers and destroyed.”

“You killed him?”

           It wasn’t the first time Ladybug had been asked that question. “…Yes.” She lied though it didn’t feel like much of one. Hawkmoth was dead after all.

           Blackheart nodded. “What happened to Chat Noir? And the other heroes? Dead too?”

           Marinette fought to keep her face blank, her fists clenched. “Yes,” She said. “They were causalities of the final fight with Hawkmoth.” Technically not a lie. Every Parisian hero had given up their miraculous once and for all after Hawkmoth was gone. There was no need for them anymore.

           The man raised an eyebrow, “Gabriel Agreste is still very much alive last I checked.” She reared back as if slapped. “So is Adrien is otherwise known as Chat Noir. Alya Cesaire aka Rena Rouge, her turtle boyfriend. The monkey guy. The tiger. The snake; Luka, I believe. All alive and kicking. So much for that lie…”

“They were retired,” Marinette growled. “Permanently.”

“Truth,” Blackheart nodded. “How did you erase their memories?”

           It had taken the combined power of Fu, Marinette, Tikki, Wayzz, and Plagg to do it. “I didn’t do anything.”

           Black Heart gave her a hard look, “Where do your powers come from?”

           Marinette smiled, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Fine! Where do Ladybug’s powers come from?”

“I am Ladybug,” She told him. “And Ladybug doesn’t have any powers.”

“You mean anymore?”

           Marinette nodded slowly.

           Black Heart sat back in his chair, “You’re telling me that you busted your ass saving Paris for two years, only to have your powers taken from you? You were tossed to the side just like that? Like you were nothing? I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I wasn’t needed anymore.” By anyone.

“You took down one of the biggest threats to this world,” The man said. “You fought. You bled. You sacrificed everything. From what our intelligence has gathered, you even gave up the love of your young life. Only to be cast aside; alone, forgotten, abandoned…”

“That’s not what happened,” Marinette shook her head.”

“You weren’t useful anymore,” Blackheart tutted. “So you were thrown away; left to fend for yourself in a cold, cruel world. No friends, no family,”

“Shut up,” Marinette whispered.

The man leaned forward, “How many internships did you turn down because you were too busy being a hero? Two? Three?”

“Shut up!” She said louder.

“Wait, it was five. That’s right.” He continued on as if she said nothing. “Five internships with some of the biggest names in fashion today. And you gave it up. Now what you have to show for it? Nothing!” He said. “You live this mundane life halfheartedly, struggling to find your place again, trying to get back even a fraction of the feeling you had when you fighting for this world!”

“SHUT UP!” Marinette roared.

           Black Heart shook his head, “I asked you who you are. But I already know who you are. I know who you were. You were a hero, a martyr, a leader, a little princess who believed in fairytales and the goodness of people. You were someone who believed this world could still be saved! So I just want to know three things. I have three questions to ask you and then you never have to see me again! You can go back to pretending to be whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

“What?” Marinette asked. “What could you possibly want to know?” Need to know that he didn’t already. “Huh? Just tell me!”

“Do you still believe this world can be saved?”

Silence.

“…What?”

“Answer the question.”

Marinette blinked, “Yes. I do.”

“Are you still willing to fight for it?” Black Heart asked.

“Always.”

           He smiled, and leaned back in his chair, “Last question… What do you know about Shield?”

           Well, that was a twist. Marinette’s eyes went wide. She knew a lot about shield. More than any normal teenage girl should. But a former Ladybug had been an Agent. And Tikki told her everything... It was founded by Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. Shield started the Avengers. They had been protecting the world for decades.

“A lot,” Marinette answered. “What do you want?

           The man gave her a small smile, “World peace.”

           The doors of the room opened again in walked a beautiful young woman with long hair a bright smile on her face, “You done traumatizing the poor girl yet.”

           The man groaned, “Dammit, Skye.”

           Marinette officially joined Shield the next day.

           Skye showed her the ropes and explained until she garnered some trust, most would give her their full name; maybe only even their code name.

           In another life, Skye hadn’t joined Shield until she was well into her twenties. In this life, she was recruited by a woman named Hill as soon as she graduated high school. It had been nearly ten years since. Skye had met Black Heart when she was about three years in, and they had disliked each other.

           Now they mostly tolerated the others’ existence. Only really dealing with each other on missions.

           Skye would be gone the next day. And Marinette would only see her once in a blue moon.

           Marinette would withdraw from school and finish her education taught by some of the greatest minds in the world. She would give up her apartment, and leave Paris. She would call her grandmother one last time for what would be months to let her know she was going to travel the world; her grandmother was pleased as she had done the same when she was not much older than Marinette. Gina disregarded the fact that she had been a legal adult at the time.

           It would be the last call she made from her phone. The line was disconnected and the phone tossed.

           Then she visited the place that had been her parents’ bakery, not their graves; because she would rather remember them alive, happy, and loving, then dead in the ground. And she told them goodbye.

           Before leaving Paris for good, she dropped off a perfectly wrapped green and black present off at the Agreste home. Adrien’s birthday was coming up. Inside the gift box was a black leather jacket with cat-shaped buttons. She handed the gift to Nathalie.

           This time, however, Marinette was quick to tell the older woman that MDC was sewn inside on the jacket; multiple times.

           Then she walked away; not looking back once.

It was the last thing Adrien would ever get from her. The last thing he would unknowingly have of Chat Noir. Ironically, the masked hero the blond had come to idolize in recent times.

The jacket was all she could give him of his as a hero, and not even a fraction of all she had wished to give him.

           One day he would forget her altogether. One day she would just be a random former classmate of his whose name he couldn’t quite remember.

           However, Marinette would never forget Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir. She would remember when Adrien was Chat Noir, one of the greatest heroes Paris would ever know. And she would remember Chat Noir was Adrien, and Adrien proved to be a greater hero than even he ever dared dream Chat Noir would be.

           Marinette would remember because she owed him that much at least.

           The night she left Paris would be the last time she dreamed of a life with Adrien. A life where they got to grow old together; one where wedding bells were heard. And he’d kiss her every time she left. And she’d kiss him every time she came back. A life where they got to see where their love would take them, and maybe one day hear the pitter-patter of little feet on their floor.

           A life where Marinette did actually become a fashion designer. A life where she married Adrien, Alya was still her best friend, her parents were alive, the world was good and kind, and two heroes got the finale they deserved.

           A life where love was enough, and they got their happy ending. The forever they never got would haunt her forever.

           Marinette was fifteen when she went she joined shield and went back to doing what she did best; helping people, saving the world.

Marinette was fifteen when she became an Agent of Shield.

           Marinette was fifteen when she learned how to shoot a gun.

           Marinette was fifteen when she joined Black Hear became her mentor. The training had been a killer. More than once, Marinette had nearly quit.

           Blackheart would just shake his head at her and say, “Life is tough, kid,” He’d give her an easy smile. “But so are you.”

           Marinette smiled.

“You and me?” Grant said. “We’re the same. We’re Kevlar. We do whatever it takes to complete the mission. We get the job done. Keep our feelings and emotions; personal wants and desires in check. For the greater good. Its who we are. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Marinette repeated back. “But that doesn’t mean we have to shut people out; each other out.”

“Yes, it does,” Grant said firmly. “Yes, I do.” He stopped talking and look Marinette in the eyes, “There are things about me you don’t know. I’ve done things I… Thing you wouldn’t like if you knew.”

“We all have,” Marinette shrugged at her father figure. “It’s a part of the job. I get it.”

           Grant smiled at her, “I know you do. I know you would. We’re the same. We know this world isn’t all happiness and rainbows but we don’t stop trying to save it. We don’t stop believing it can be saved; that what we’re doing has a purpose. But there are things I can’t tell you. Things about me… that you wouldn’t like if you knew. One day, I hope you understand though. I know we will. We’re the same. But You’re good.”

“So are you,” Marinette said. “Grant, you’re like the best guy I know. You’re good.”

“Not always,” Grant looked away. “You need to know, Marinette, I’m not a good man.”

“I believe you are.” She stated, “You can’t convince me otherwise.”

           It would a year later after much trust was built, and they had gone of dozens and dozens of missions that she finally learned his real name.

           Grant.

Over the next few years, Grant became like a father to her. And to him, she was like a daughter. He taught her everything he knew. Marinette did everything she could to make him proud. He made her believe that they could really save the world, change the world for the better.

Where Grant went, she followed; most of the time. Sky would slowly start to show up more and more; until it was clear she wasn’t going anyway.

Whenever she was hurt, and the mission was over, Grant would tell a story about his past.

           Her favorites were the ones about a monster who loved the sky. It was clear that it was about him and Skye. “Do you want to hear a story, princess?” He smiled. “It’s about a man who struggled with his demons his entire life. Who asked for love throughout his entire life. But he never got it. Until she came. She made him feel important. She made him laugh. She made him better. She became his world.”

           Marinette couldn’t understand what was stopping the two from getting together.

           She met Nick Fury when she was seventeen and was sent on the first on her first solo mission.

When she was eighteen, Grant and Skye were approached by a man named Coulson. The same Coulson that had supposedly been killed by a god named Loki. The strangest part was Marinette was tapped to join too.

The team consisted of Coulson, May, Grant, Skye, Fitz, Simmons, and Marinette.

They were a team. They became a family.

However, then John Garrett was revealed to be Hydra; a man Marinette had thought she knew well. (Grant killed him. And she mourned with him the man they thought John was.)

           Then project insight happened. Nick Fury was killed. Captain America exposed all of Shield in an effort to reveal Hydra.

           Shield was labeled a terrorist organization.

           The team was on their own.

But, Marinette thought more than once over the next coming months, at least they had each other.

They ended up at a place called Providence. They were given lie detector tests by Agent Eric Koenig. “Fury designed this himself,” The portly man said. “He wanted a lie detector Romanoff couldn’t beat.”

“Did she?” Grant asked

“Like Fury would tell!”

                       Marinette sat in the machine and tried to relax.

“We’re going to start with some easy question,” Eric told her. “Can I have your full name?”

“Marinette Clarissa Dupain-Cheng.”

“Eye color?”

“Blue,” Marinette stated.

           The agent nodded, “Have you ever been married?”

           Marinette shook her head, “No.”

“Please list your immediate living family.”

“My grandmother Gina,” Marinette answered. “My grandfather. I considered my team my family though.”

“What’s the difference between an egg and a rock?”

           Marinette gave him an “Are you Serious” look, “One's food, ones a weapon.”

“Have you ever heard of project insight?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever had contact with Alexander Pierce.”

“I have,” She answered honestly. “Once. Just after the New York Invasion. Agent Hill introduced me.”

“You wash up on a desert island, alone. Sitting in the sand is a box. What’s in the box?”

“How big is the box?” Marinette asked curiously. “How did it get there? What island am I on? Am I near freshwater.”

“Just say the first thing that comes to your mind, Marinette,” He told her. “What’s in the box?”

“A pair of earrings.”

           Eric gives her a funny look but notes her age and shrugs it off. Spy teen girls were still teen girls, after all. “Shield no longer exists. The agency has been labeled a terrorist organization. So why are YOU here.”

           Marinette thought about the question. She had thought about it before. Shield had fallen. No one knew who was or wasn’t Hydra. She should’ve been gone in the wind. However, she had never even considered it. “Shield is all I have. Ward, Skye, Coulson, May, Simmons, Fitz, Trip; they’re all I have. They’re my family.” She told him. “And truthfully, I joined Shield because I believe this world is worth saving. I believe it can still be saved. I believe that it is good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

“I love Lord of the Rings,” Agent Eric Koenig grinned. “Let’s get you a Lanyard, Agent Dupain-Cheng.

           While Skye, May, and Grant stayed at Providence, Marinette joined Coulson and the others.

           When Marinette returned to the base after saving the Cellist lady. The bus was gone. May was gone. Grant and Skye were gone.

           What was left of the team had debated long about what had happened; why the three had left.

           When Coulson said, “Worst case…  We've had a wolf in the herd the whole time.”

           Marinette didn’t believe that at first. Not until she heard the scream. Saw Agent Eric Koenig’s body. Saw the word written on the picture.

           Ward is Hydra.

“Not Ward,” Fitz said.

“Not Ward,” Marinette repeated. “Not Ward.” Skye was wrong. She had to be wrong. Ward couldn’t be Hydra. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

           Then Simmons gave the analyze of Agent Eric Koenig’s murder.

“Ward did this,” Simmons said.

           In a fury, Fitz smashed a few things.

           Marinette could only stare in space as the words penetrated her mind.

           Ward is Hydra.

           The man she thought she knew the best.

           The man she had sworn her loyalty to, had given all her trust to, had loved like a father.

           The man who had gotten her to swear loyalty to Shield.

           Grant Ward had been her S.O. Her mentor. Her leader. Her captain.

           Grant Ward was Hydra.

           And just like that, Marinette’s world shattered again.

           And just like that, everything she ever thought she believed in was questioned.

           It would be months before she saw him again, and by then it had been confirmed without a doubt Grant Ward was Hydra. He was the enemy.

           He would try to kill the team multiple times.  Grant Ward would do everything he could to get her alone to speak with and or to Skye. Like he could change their minds. He had gone full psycho Hydra and didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

           Marinette was captured by Hydra not long before her twenty-first birthday.

           She was tied up and chained to a desk.

           Grant Ward walked in with an easy smile on his face, “Marinette. This brings back memories.”

“Old Blackheart himself,” The bluenette hissed back. “Good to see you again. Oh, Wait! As your lot puts; Hail Hydra, right?”

           He nodded and sat down across from her, “Ladybug.”

“Just kill me,” Marinette shrugged. “I won’t tell you anything. You know I won’t. I won’t Hydra. You and the rest of the freaking Nazi can go to hell.”

           Ward looked shocked, “Kill you? You really think I would… I would never hurt you, Marinette!” He told her. “You have to know that. I would never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe not want to,” Marinette looked him dead in the eye. “But you will. All apart of the job, right.”

“Do you think this was easy for me?” Grant asked. “You of all people understand how hard it was; the impossible decisions that had to be made. You know what it's like to make a choice that breaks you inside. But we make them anyway. I made them anyway. Because that’s what I do. What we do.”

Marinette shuddered. “A Double Agent. Do what needs to be done. Betray everyone who loves you, cares about you. Because we don’t matter, only the mission does. Right? That’s what you tried to train into me; anything for the mission.”

“No!” Ward shouted. “That’s who you were before I ever met you. You don’t get to put that on me. That’s why Shield wanted you. Because you did whatever it took to stop Hawkmoth for good. Whatever it took for the greater good. That’s how I knew we were the same.”

           Silence.

           Ward stood up, “You’re good. I get that. I’ve always known that. But you understand me. You’re a soldier. I’m a soldier.”

“You are a monster,” Marinette said. “You finally convinced. There is no good for you.”

           Coulson, May, Lincoln, and Skye rescued her not long after.

           Grant and Marinette would face off with each other multiple; fighting to the death; fighting for the cause.

           Then one day, Simmons would be gone, Coulson would go after her, and when they came back; Coulson would tell her Grant Ward was dead. He killed him.

           Marinette wouldn’t ever admit it but her world shattered just a bit.

           However, Marinette would see Grant again but he wasn’t Grant. He was hive. And Hive would nearly take Skye from the team. He would take Lincoln.

           After months of fighting the monster for months; doing whatever it took to bring him down; Lincoln, a pretty blond man with light-colored eyes who dared to be a hero, sacrificed himself.

           And for the first time in years, Marinette was reminded of Adrien Agreste. She had thought about him occasionally, sure. But seeing Skye cry over Lincoln had reminded her just deeply of her own loss. And remember that she was the one who erased his memories. He wanted the last thing he saw to be her before he never remembered her again.

           Marinette was twenty-two when she went to the funeral of Grant Ward. It was in Paris. Marinette was the only one who went. There was nobody to bury but still, Marinette had him laid to rest, not too far away from her parents.

           No matter how hard she had tried, Marinette couldn’t find it in her to hate Grant. She had loved him too much. He had been such a big part of who she was.

           And she owed it to him to finally see him laid to rest. It was her duty, she supposed.

           That was why she buried him in the once place she once thought she’d never return. The place where she once dreamed of another life.

           As she stared at his grave, once again she dreamed about another life.

           A life where Hydra had never returned. Shield had never fallen. The Avengers weren’t torn apart in a civil war. The world didn’t seem to always be on fire. Skye was still an Agent. Fitz and Simmons were married. Tripp was alive. Lincoln was alive. And Grant Ward was good.

           It was a nice dream but she’d leave it in Paris with all rest of her childhood’s hopes, wishes, and dreams.

“You were right,” She told Grant, speaking directly to his headstone as if he was there. “We are the same. I do understand. I’ve always understood. In the end, we always do our duty. Its what defines us. Rest in Peace, Ward.”

           Marinette walked out of the cemetery with her head held high. She would stop for ice cream, and cross paths with a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man. He’d look right through her.

           And it only bothered her a little.

           Months after she left Paris again, for good she swore, she would hear on the news about the untimely death of Gabriel Agreste.

           She would notify an hour later that Master Fu has surfaced in Paris again. The man had been watched by Shield for years.

           She would be told that Master Fu had been spotted around Agreste home.

           Marinette didn’t blink twice. It wouldn’t matter. Everyone had moved on. Adrien had moved. Marinette had moved on. And as far as the world was concerned Marinette Dupain-Cheng was dead. She had died years ago.

           Seven months later, Coulson would bring her in to help train a new recruit. She would walk into the training room of the bus and see a tall, a tall, handsome, green-eyed, blond man with hope clear on his face, standing next to Coulson, looking at her like he was seeing the sun for the first time in years.

“Kitty?” Marinette whispered.

“My lady.”

           Marinette was twenty-three when her world shattered yet again.

[incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms]

Jealous Luke+famous Julie (they’re both together now)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that this is what you meant when you sent the ask. You can read the fic under the cut or you can click on the link here to read it on AO3. Enjoy!

Green Eyes and Fame

Pairings:  Luke/Julie, Alex/Willie

Tags: Fluff, angst, jealousy, miscommunication

Five years since the band first made a splash, Julie and the Phantoms was one of the most popular bands in America. As the lead singer of the band Julie was the most well known and, thanks to her sweet disposition and how she went out of her way for her fans, everyone adored her. People just liked her, romantically as well as platonically. As her boyfriend of three years though, Luke kind of wished people would stop flirting with her in front of him.

Also known as the five times Luke was jealous because of people flirting with Julie, and one time he realized there was never a need to be. 

1 - The Number 1 Fan

Luke was really glad in moments like these that the band wasn’t required to do meet and greets. He loved playing for people and he loved meeting people who were genuinely touched by his music, but after performing for two hours in the hot stage lights for the third time that week, he was pretty wiped out. 

Management did require Julie to do these meet and greets once a week after a show though, what with being the lead singer and the name brand. Despite how she was just as physically drained as he was under the surface, and despite being at this for over two hours, Julie still greeted each fan with unending enthusiasm and her signature toothy smile. 

He was meant to be there to keep her company, but found himself staring at her in fond amusement as she started admiring the little girl wearing Julie and the Phantoms keds. “My daddy got them for my birthday last week!” The girl beamed at her dad who was standing slightly to the side so his daughter could have her moment. 

“They look super cool,” Julie said in an impressed tone, “and happy belated birthday.” 

“Can you sign them?” The girl bounced up and down in excitement. “Please, please, please, please please-”

“Easy there,” Julie laughed, “I can't sign them with you jumping around like that.” 

The little girl looked like she was gonna pass out from happiness as she hurried to pull off the sneakers. “Thank you Julie!”

A minute later, the little girl was sporting some autographed keds and a picture of her and her icon on her dad's phone. The man politely shook Julie’s hand before leading his daughter out of the room. 

“I love you Julie!” The girl shouted behind her as she walked out.

“That girl was so adorable,” Julie gushed once she was gone. 

“You think every little kid is adorable,” Luke reminded her. 

“That’s because they are.”

Luke laughed good-naturedly at his girlfriend’s defensiveness over literally every child on the planet. She wasn’t wrong, kids were adorable. Especially when they were bouncing around in excitement over meeting their idol. Luke had helped her babysit her brother when they were in high school though, so he knew exactly how much of a pest they could be. 

Luke pulled out his phone to scroll through Instagram as the next fan in the line up walked into the room. Luke only glanced at her briefly to see it was an older girl, probably around their age. He liked a picture of Alex, Flynn, and Reggie at an after-party and kept scrolling. 

“Hey there,” Julie smiled at the girl as she approached, “what’s your name?” She held out her hand which the other girl took for a handshake. 

“Lucille, but you can call me Lucy” the girl replied in a tone that sounded a little flirtatious. Luke raised an eyebrow and looked up, certain he had imagined it. He noted that the girl was holding the handshake just a little too long.

Julie just smiled back unaware, “nice to meet you Lucy. Did you enjoy the show?”

“I could watch you perform all day,” Lucy smiled back widely. Luke barely stopped his frown, definitely flirting. 

As subtle as he could, which wasn’t very, Luke began to take her in fully for the first time. She was kind of pretty, tall with dark skin and almond eyes, hair pulled into a ponytail that showed off the buzzed underneath. Her nose was pierced and she was sporting a pair of cuffed jeans. 

“I’ll take that to mean a yes,” Julie laughed warmly. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it. And that you found the time to come for the meet and greet. You got a camera for the picture?”

Lucy pulled out a handheld camera and handed it to the photographer. “I was actually hoping we could do a pose?”

“Sure,” Julie smiled, “whatcha have in mind?”

“It involves your friend, if he doesn’t mind.” Lucy gestured over to Luke who startled in surprise at being addressed. 

Julie looked over uncertainly. “I’m not sure-“

“I’m happy to join in,” Luke interrupted her. Anything to get between those flirty eyes and his very hot girlfriend. 

Lucy smiled widely, “awesome! My idea was to have the hot guy look all jealous while I pretend to propose.”

Luke struggled to not glare at the girl. Choosing to keep an easy smile on his face and laugh. “Well I feel like anybody would be jealous of the person with Julie.”

He walked over to stand in front of the two while Lucy dropped to one knee. The jealous glare on his face was a little too easy for him to make as his girlfriend pretended to gasp in excitement. The camera flash finally went off and Julie hugged the girl goodbye. “It was nice to meet you,” she said brightly. 

Lucy smiled back and handed her a piece of paper. “my number, in case you miss me.” At that she turned around strutted out of the room. 

Once she was gone Julie turned to Luke, holding the paper between her thumb and pointer. “She was so sweet, it was nice of her to ask to hang out.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “babe, you know she was flirting with you right?”

Julie’s eyes widened, obviously unaware of the fact. “Oh! I had no idea.” 

Luke laughed. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Babe she proposed to you.”

“Shut up,” Julie blushed in embarrassment, “I can’t believe she didn’t recognize you as my boyfriend.”

“Trust me, she probably barely even noticed me there,” Luke kept the possessiveness out of his tone as he said it. Instead he batted his eyelashes and made a dramatic kissy face. “Oh, Julie,” he tried to mimic Lucy’s flirty tone, “I could watch you perform all day.”

Julie groaned and playfully shoved his shoulder. “I hate you so much.” 

Once she turned to face the next person, Luke took the piece of paper with Lucy’s number on it to throw away. Feigning surprise when Julie told him she lost it with a confused look on her face.

2 - The Cute Barista

A couple weeks after the incident, the two were visiting their hometown for Julie’s father’s birthday. Before making their way to the house Julie dragged Luke to a hole in the wall cafe for breakfast.

“I don’t remember this being here in high school,” Luke mused.

“It’s new. I heard about it from an uh… Friend?” Julie’s smile was a little bit too innocent. Luke mentally prepared himself for whatever mischief she had planned, letting her lead him into the cafe. He was greeted with the intoxicating aroma of roasted coffee grounds and cinnamon pastries blended together and the din of people laughing, enjoying their drinks. 

Luke went to the counter to place his order while Julie left to find a booth for them to sit in. He made a double-take as he recognized the barista.

“No way, Carrie?” 

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, mouth spreading into a wide smile. “No way.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I got the job for the summer while I’m not in school. If I had known they really let just anybody walk in here I wouldn’t have taken the job though,” Carrie teased him.

Luke laughed. “I remember Julie’s creative manager saying something similar when I signed on to be her guitarist.”

Carrie swatted his arm over the counter. “Shut up, we both know it wouldn’t be the Phantoms without you.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t nearly fistfight the manager when we first met. Anyways, how’s school?”

The other girl rolled her head to the side, a soft crack emitting as she cracked her neck. “Honestly? Amazing. I’m so glad I just decided to stick with the dancing side of performance, the whole singing and ‘dirty candy’ thing was kind of just cause I thought it was cool.”

“You’re cool though,” Luke insisted, “and I know that Julie is just waiting for you to graduate so she can snag you as a background dancer. She really misses you.” He paused for a moment. “Thinking about it now that’s probably why she dragged me here.”

Carrie blushed at the compliment and waved him off. “She knows that I want to make it on my own first, not ride on my friend’s coattails.” Still slightly pink, she gestured to nothing in particular, “what can I get for you in the meantime?” 

Luke rattled off his order which she deftly took down. She then began to make his drinks and put his pastries in the oven simultaneously. Luke listened politely to her chatter about her different classes at CalArts as she worked, only interrupting to ask questions when she started talking in technical terms that he had no clue about.

If somebody had told Luke in high school that one day he would be having a conversation like this with Carrie of all people he would have said they were crazy. The girl had been a constant negative towards Julie up until their junior year, always trying to belittle her or one-up her with her own band. 

One day though, Julie had decided she was through with being passively polite to Carrie as Flynn defended her. So, Julie made Luke drive her to Carrie's house in the middle of the night to verbally berate her to submission and hopefully get Carrie to back off.

The conversation had taken a different turn though. 

It turned out Carrie was mad at Julie because Julie had completely shut her out when her mom died at the end of eighth grade and started ignoring her for Flynn. Then, when Julie started to be better and more like herself, she had ruined Carrie’s big premiere performance that she had spent months working on by showing her up with a last-minute song. 

That hadn’t excused her being a bully, but after a lot of crying and apologizing on both ends, the girls were soon best friends again, this time with Flynn. 

When Flynn and Carrie had first spoken to each other after the argument with Julie, they had gotten on like a house on fire. Reggie, Alex, and Luke had been equally surprised that they were able to get along at all after three years of fighting and horrified of what the two of them accomplished when they worked as a team to roast them. 

It had been even more surprising when Reggie and Luke caught the two of them in a janitor’s closet at school, but that was a story for another time.

Despite constantly teasing him, she had turned out to be surprisingly cool without her ‘mean girl’ persona. She loudly called out people who were homophobic to Alex and verbally eviscerated people who made fun of Reggie. After she turned Dirty Candy from a pop group to a dancing group, she had let Alex join and would hang out with him until late teaching him. She also helped tutor Reggie in math when his ADHD had made it hard for him to focus, patiently explaining quadratics and Algebra.

In Luke’s eyes, anybody who was good to his friends was good to him. So, naturally, Carrie grew on him quickly. 

As she finished making his drinks, Luke looked around the cafe for Julie. Despite how small it was, there was a surprising amount of people there, filling the atmosphere with laughter and idle chit chat. He kind of wish it had existed while they were in high school, it would have been a great place to hang out.

He finally found her sitting in a booth by the window, freezing once he noticed that she wasn’t alone. There was a guy there wearing a barista uniform, admittedly handsome, who was braced on the edge of the table in a way that was obviously meant to show off his arms. His pose was suggestive, leaning slightly towards Jullie.

As Julie laughed at something the man said, a familiar curl of jealousy wrapped around Luke’s gut. He glared down the man’s head, wondering if it was possible to kill somebody from this distance with his mind.

“Easy there,” Carrie interrupted his thoughts. Luke startled and turned back to face her, surprised to see she had finished making his order without him noticing. “What’s got you so angry?”

“Nothing,” Luke mumbled unconvincingly. Carrie looked over in the direction he had been staring in and smiled in a way that Luke meant trouble. 

“Wow,” she said in feigned surprise, “I didn’t know that Jesús and Julie knew each other.”

“Jesús?” Luke asked. He knew he was being obvious but he had always been bad at subtlety.

Carrie’s smile was predatory, knowing she had caught him. Her face smoothed out innocently and waved her hand dismissively. “He’s nobody, just a new hire. His family recently immigrated from Spain so he’s still got the accent, has a habit of making nearly every girl here, and quite a few guys, swoon.”

Luke clenched his jaw and glared across the room at the man again. Turning back around, he paid for his food and slipped an extra hundred dollar bill into her tip jar. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice until they were gone. 

Right before walking away though, he turned back to Carrie. “Hey I might need your help later, Ray is going to give me…” Luke trailed off, eyes flicking back to his girlfriend, “a family heirloom. He told me about a shop to get it altered but I don’t want to go alone.”

Carrie’s eyes widened in understanding. “Are you-?” Luke nodded, smiling bashfully. The girl beamed, “you bet your ass I want to go with you.”

“Thanks Carrie,” he smiled at his friend as he grabbed the drinks and pastries, “it was nice to see you.”

Carrie grinned widely. “You too man, pick me up tomorrow. I’ll come up with some excuse so Julie isn’t suspicious.” After she finished speaking she turned to the next customer in line to take their order.

Forcing the glare off his face into an easy grin, Luke made his way over to his girlfriend. 

“Hey babe,” he said a little too loudly, startling the other man. Luke felt a curl of dark satisfaction as Jesús jumped a little in surprise. “I got one large black coffee with cinnamon for you, you sadistic weirdo, two lemon blueberry scones, and a salted caramel iced mocha, for me of course.”

Julie rolled her eyes as she took the coffee from the tray, “liking black coffee isn’t weird you know.”

“Plain black coffee is something that only people who hate themselves, are on a diet, or psychopaths enjoy.”

“It’s not plain,” Julie reminded him, “it has cinnamon.”

“The only reason I haven’t called a psych consult and you know it.”

Julie laughed and took a sip of the coffee, “you never know. I could be a psychopath.”

“Or a high functioning sociopath, if you do your research.” Luke grinned as Julie laughed at the reference. He loved watching her when she laughed, leaning back in a way that showed off the endearing gap in her two front teeth as her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. On rare occasions she would even snort, if the joke was funny enough.

Luke slid into the booth next to her and linked their fingers together while she laughed. Once she stopped laughing she gestured towards Jesús with the hand still holding the coffee. 

“Luke this is Jesús. Jesús, this is my boyfriend Luke.”

Luke felt warm all over, being introduced as Julie’s boyfriend. Even after dating for three years it still made him happy. “Nice to meet you man.” He held out the hand not entwined with Julie’s for a handshake.

“Likewise,” the man responded. Luke felt a flash of surprise at the lack of accent.

“Jesús and his sister were adopted by...” Julie trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as she did some math in her head.

“Your mom’s second cousin,” Jesús finished her sentence. “moved down here from San Francisco. I’m starting at Caltech once the summer’s over.”

“That’s neat.” Luke tried to not be embarrassed over being jealous and thinking Julie was flirting with family. “Whatcha studying?”

“Double major in mechanical and electrical engineering,” he said proudly.

“Jesús was just telling me he wanted to be a robot engineer so he could build Norm from Phineas and Ferb,” Julie said as she took a sip of her coffee.

Jesús grinned. “You laugh, but that man shaped my childhood.” Carrie shouted for Jesús as a crowd of teenagers walked in, loudly messing around and joking. He grimaced, “looks like Carrie needs some backup. It was nice to meet you though Julie, and you Luke.”

“See you at the party later!” Julie called after him as he walked away. 

“I didn’t know you had other family in LA,” Luke mused. He took a sip of the mocha, pleasantly surprised at how great of a job Carrie had done on it. 

“Neither did I,” Julie confessed, “when my aunt heard I was in town she told me about him though and said to keep a lookout.”

“Is that why we came here?” Luke asked, snagging a bite of his scone.

“Nah, I just heard Carrie was here and wanted to see the horror on your face once you realized I brought you here for a dark roast and a Carrie roast.”

He choked on his scone. “That was a horrible pun, and a horrible thing to do.”

“Pun still made you laugh though,” Julie said with a smug smile.

Luke glared at her for a minute before turning back to his scone, sulking. “Just shut up and eat so we can go to your dad’s house.” 

He tried his best to stay annoyed with her. When she leaned over and kissed his temple in apology though, his resolve shattered and he couldn’t help the pleased grin that spread across his face. Wow am I whipped, he thought to himself, but for the life of him he couldn’t find any problem with that fact.

3 - The ‘Nice Guy’

A month later, Luke had to miss a scheduled practice session with the band for the first time ever. 

The only reason he was missing in the first place was because of Bobby. The man had finally gotten back to him about a favor he needed, saying he was happy to help. However apparently there was only one opening at his recording studio for the next six months, something about the starlet booked being sent back to rehab? Six months was too long for Luke to wait though, and he was already in NYC. So, he told Bobby he would be there.

He knew that, even without telling them his reason, the band would all be fine with him missing. But even with Julie insisting that it was completely fine, Luke still felt like a horrible person that they would have to cancel practice because of him. 

The guilt gnawed on his chest until Reggie and Alex told him they were still going to practice as scheduled. Apparently, they had asked one of the backup guitarists to cover for him. Some guy named Billy?

“If you ask me,” Alex confessed to Luke while they were telling him, “I only asked him cause the dude really needs the practice. He’s literally paid to know all the songs in case you need time off and to play back up. But at the last concert, he was right next to me, and the dude couldn’t even keep up with ‘Bright,’ for longer than a couple seconds. The rest of the songs ” 

Luke raised an eyebrow, “that song is like, four chords. If he can’t do it then why did management hire him?”

“Do we all have backups for our time off?” Reggie piped up.

“Yeah, mine is some named Owen, seems pretty nice. I’m surprised you guys didn’t know about yours. Jeremy is a pretty funny guy, way more level headed than you.”

“You sayin I’m not level headed?” Reggie said defensively.

“I met Jeremy,” Luke said in surprise. “I’ve seen him around everywhere but I didn’t know he was the backup bassist. Did you know he does voice acting?”

“My backup does voice acting?” Reggie flipped from defensive to excited in a moment.

“Anyways,” Alex got them back on topic, “Billy’s only your backup because his dad is the head of Covington Entertainment. Dude could ruin us if we don’t let his son have the job.”

“On that note, I will be sucking up to him,” Reggie said nervously, “quite a bit.”

After that Luke had felt a little bit better about skipping. He left for the studio a couple minutes later, after saying goodbye to Julie of course.

Bobby himself was the one who sat in the recording booth for Luke’s session. “You think I would let just any old person produce your music? You’re family, and family looks after each other.” 

The whole thing didn’t last more than half an hour. It had been fun at first, messing with the different equipment and such that was usually off-limits. Without the band though, and he found it a little bit boring after a while. At the very least, this was a confirmation that a solo career was not for him. After Bobby called it a night he promised he would send over the demo once he was done editing it.

Luke thanked him a hundred times before running off to his car. Based on his watch, there was still an hour left to rehearsal. If he was careful and took the highway he could get there on time for a least a solid forty-five minutes of practice.

There was no music coming out of the studio as he arrived, probably meaning the band was taking a break. He was passing by the bathroom when there was the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Luke was going to keep walking until he heard something that caught his attention.

“-think I might actually have a chance with Julie, man.” Luke froze at the excited words, wondering if the person was talking about his Julie. He couldn’t hear whoever the man was talking to so he assumed it was a phone call. As quietly as he could, he inched closer to the bathroom door so he could eavesdrop. 

“I’m not crazy,” the man said defensively, “the band personally asked me to cover for their guitarist while he’s off doing god knows what. We’ve been practicing together for a couple hours now and the guys love me.” A laugh. “Alex is exactly as much of a Mary Sue as all the magazines said and Reggie is the biggest dolt on the planet though so it really wasn’t too hard.” 

Luke felt his teeth grind together. The Mary Sue thing was something that he knew bothered Alex. His friend was polite to everyone he didn’t know, even those who were rude to him, and tended to be a people pleaser. If the magazines ever had to deal with Alex when he was tired or stressed, they wouldn’t be so quick to call him a Mary Sue. 

And Reggie wasn’t dumb. Anybody who bothered to get to know Reggie figured out pretty quickly that he only needed to be told things multiple times because his ADHD affected his short term memory and made it hard to focus when people were speaking to him. And despite what people thought, Reggie was a little shy. So, being around new people made him a little nervous which made his hyperactivity worse. So random outbursts, fidgeting, or rambling made him seem ‘spazzy’ and outgoing.

Luke was about to burst in and give this guy a piece of his mind. Yell at him about how Alex was actually a grumpy dumbass and Reggie was not a dolt, but stopped himself once the guy spoke again. 

“I know that doesn’t mean Julie likes me. I’m not stupid. I know Julie likes me cause she keeps watching me while she sings and stuff. The chemistry is practically tangible dude. Trust me when I say that she wants a piece of Billy.” 

Jealousy began to pool in Luke’s gut. Usually Julie sang to him, not whoever this wannabe was. Now that he thought about it, when was the last time Julie and him got so into a song that she kissed him at the end? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time they even kissed period?

She literally kissed you before you left for the recording studio idiot, his brain reminded him.

The voice was silent as the guy listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line said. He made an offended noise. “It’s not weird to talk in third person, it shows confidence. And why would I make up practicing with the Phantoms?” So this was the Billy Alex told him about, interesting. 

There was another beat of silence, longer this time. “I’m not being delusional, you and I both know I would be amazing for her. I’m only here because her crappy boyfriend bailed on the band and I was man enough to step up and help. Once Julie stops being a stupid bitch and realizes I’m an actually nice guy- ” 

Luke felt the jealousy and possessiveness burn into anger, slamming the bathroom door open before the guy could finish his sentence. As he took in the guy he noted that, other than being tall, he was kind of unimpressive. Especially when he looked like he was about to shit his pants at the sight of Luke.

“Hey Billy,” Luke said icily, “I’m the shitty boyfriend, nice to meet you.”

Billy blanched. “I can explain-”

“I heard enough,” Luke practically growled, cutting the guy off. “I can understand saying that Julie is amazing since it is super obvious to literally even the stupidest people. I can understand wanting to treat her right. Hell, I can even forgive you thinking that I’m the biggest piece of garbage ever.”

As Luke spoke he stalked closer to the man in front of him, watching as Billy stepped back nervously to avoid him. He kept walking forward, herding the man until his back was pressed against the wall. He stepped closer still, until he was practically in the man’s face. Despite being nearly a head taller, Billy still cowered like Luke was twice his size.

“Do you know one thing I will not tolerate though?” Luke asked as he plucked the phone from Billy’s hand and hung up on the man on the other end of the line.

“N-no?” The man squeaked.

“I will not tolerate anybody calling my girlfriend, or any girl for that matter, ‘a stupid bitch’ just because she doesn’t want to get with them. And I certainly won’t tolerate you making fun of my best friends.” Luke’s voice sounded dangerous to his own voice, despite being at a quiet, even tone. “You feel me, nice guy?”

 “I’m sorry man, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re right,” Luke agreed, “you weren’t thinking, and I’m not even slightly finished with your dumb ass.” He stepped back just an inch, crossing his arms to prevent himself from throttling the guy in front of him. There was a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Alex in the back of his head telling him that this was a bad idea.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything cause I’m not one to rain on your parade, but you really pissed me off. First of all, since you are apparently unaware, it’s literally your job to cover for me when I can’t be there. There was no ‘being man enough’ idiot when it’s in your job description.”

“It’s not my job to go to practice, the team asked me personally-” Billy protested.

“That brings me to the ‘second of all.’ The guys only ‘personally’ asked you to practice cause you can’t even play the most basic songs, and rather than letting you embarrass yourself, they were trying to be nice and help you. Cause unlike you, they are actually nice guys. And what you,” Luke jabbed his finger into his sternum, “did to thank them is turn around and talk bad about him to your friend the second they were gone.” 

I didn’t mean any of it man. It just slipped out on accident.” Billy looked like he was about to cry, which was not a good look on him. The only reason Luke didn’t feel bad is that Billy looked like a petulant child who was only upset at being caught doing the bad thing and not remorseful because he did it in the first place. 

Taking a deep breath, Luke stepped back from Billy before doing something stupid, like punching the son of the guy who owned Luke’s career. He stared up at the sky, tapping his chin as he pretended to think. “Say, I just had a great idea. Wanna hear it?” 

Terrified, Billy nodded.

“Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m gonna do you a favor.” Luke practically growled at the man “Since your not thinking led to you ‘accidentally’ trying to degrade my girlfriend and talking smack about my friends, I’ll do your thinking for you for the rest of the night. Just so you don’t slip up again, understand?” 

Billy opened his mouth to reply. However, even though he phrased it as a question, Luke didn’t actually care about his answer. So, he just kept talking before the man could speak.

“So, I’m thinking that, since you just feel so bad about all of this, that once we walk out of this bathroom we pretend we never had this conversation okay? But when we go back to the studio you are going to be unbelievably polite and nice to Reggie and Alex. Then you are going to work your hardest for the rest of practice until you have a basic grasp of every song. Then you are going to leave.”

“Can I at least talk to Julie?” Billy asked hopefully.

A wave of anger rose up in Luke. “You aren’t gonna speak to her unless she speaks to you.” Billy sagged in disappointment, nodding to show his agreement. 

Satisfied, Luke backed up so that he was no longer cornering the taller boy to the wall. He felt Billy’s eyes on his back as he turned on his heel, marching out of the bathroom. 

As he opened the door to the studio, Julie, Alex, and Reggie were sitting in the center laughing about something. The three of them looked up at the sound of the door, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here man!” Alex smiled at him.

“Dude, do you know how weird it is to practice without you? I felt like I was in the twilight zone.” Reggie laughed at his own joke.

Julie walked over and placed a kiss on his cheek, rolling her eyes at Reggie’s joke. “Billy’s in the bathroom but he should be back any minute so you can meet him. He’s a nice guy, you’ll like him.”

Another irrational stab of jealousy pierced through Luke. “Great,” he answered her. His friends must have noticed the irritation in his tone because their smiles dimmed down.

“You okay?” Julie asked, a concerned frown on her face. He opened his mouth, ready to brush it off and pretend nothing had happened, as Billy walked into the room. He was all swagger now, a contrast to the boy Luke left in the bathroom who looked like he was going to pee himself.

“Hey guys,” Billy smiled. Luke didn’t miss the way his eyes passed over Julie and stayed just a moment too long.

Another stab of jealousy. “Just met this really rude guy today. You wouldn’t believe the things that came out of his mouth.” Billy froze, a flash of panic over his eyes that Luke only caught because he was looking for it. “It’s not that important though,” he continued, watching as Billy relaxed again. “I might tell you later if I don’t forget by then.” 

“How about we get back to practice?” Billy suggested nervously. “Any chance you can help me learn Luke?” This time when he looked up at Luke he pointedly avoided eye contact with Julie.

Luke felt another pang of guilt in his stomach. He knew he was being an ass, but he really didn’t like this guy. Trying out a genuine smile for a peace offering, Luke went over to his guitar mounted on the wall. “Let’s play.”

4 - The Old Fling

The day after Luke accidentally put the fear of God into him, Billy quit the band to go work for his dad’s company. Luke felt kind of bad for him, but to be fair he was wholly unqualified. Even with Luke painstakingly showing him each cord he still couldn’t get it. The new guy they hired for his backup guitarist was named Charlie, who he liked infinitely better because he never flirted with Julie.

After Billy went home, Luke ended up telling everyone about the incident in the bathroom. Julie had gotten annoyed with him for defending her honor like she was some helpless maiden, but she seemed glad about him defending Alex and Reggie. The two guys had just shrugged and said he was really annoying anyway.

As an ‘apology’ to Julie for defending her honor without asking, Luke took Julie out to Coney Island for a date. He was pretty Julie just wanted an excuse to go there but Luke didn’t complain, any time spent with Julie was a good time.

The trip started out great. They went on the ferris wheel, visited some candy shop Julie had heard about, and rode the cyclone. It was hot there in late August and there were countless people on the beach. Julie closed her eyes and looked up every once in awhile, basking in the sun.

“You’re like a cat,” Luke teased her.

“Cats do nothing but eat, sleep, poop, and play all the time and are called cute even if they are little devils to their owners,” Julie replied without opening her eyes, “sounds like the kind of life most people would be jealous of.”

“Cats also lick their own buttholes,” he reminded her.

A shrug. “Well we can’t all be perfect.” Julie looked down from the sun and grabbed her water bottle from Luke’s backpack. 

“Yeah, but I still think I’m gonna pass. I would have to stop eating taco bell, which is definitely a dealbreaker.” Great, now he wanted tacos.

Julie rolled her eyes at his bad joke, opening the bottle to take a sip. “Even still,” she said, “with all the team meetings, songwriting, and late-night concerts I’ve barely been able to enjoy the sun. I’m either sleeping or stuck inside.” Her shoulders slumped a little. 

Luke pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, tucking her under his chin.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Julie said, voice muffled against his chest, “I love what I’m doing, and I love that I get to do it with you. I just wish that they didn’t make a meeting to decide if they wanted to make the ‘and’ in Julie and the Phantoms into that weird eight symbol.”

“Well obviously it was life or death,” Luke said in a grave tone, “can you imagine the outrage if we changed something that literally nobody would notice?”

Julie giggled, “I imagine it would be the same level of rage if we made the ‘J’ in merchandising a little larger.”

“Well that would just be unforgivable,” Luke said in mock horror.

His girlfriend laughed and hugged him back tighter. A familiar warmth spread throughout his core and his brain felt like it was saturated in happy hormones. He smiled and tucked his head in her neck. Luke let out a grumble of complaint once she finally pulled away, trying to pull her back into the hug.

“Luke, you’re cute and all but it's hot out.”

“Oh that? It’s just my burning desire for you.” Luke grinned as Julie groaned at his corny joke.

“I changed my mind,” Julie took a step back as she spoke. “I don’t think you’re cute and I actually hate you.” There was no malice in her tone though, and her exasperated smile was still fond.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Luke parroted back to her, inevitably bringing tacos to mind again. His stomach churned in anticipation.

Julie started laughing again, another one of those full-body laughs that showed off her toothy smile. “God you’re so…” Julie trailed off as she saw something behind him, eyes widening.

“I’m so what?” Luke pressed. He glanced behind him to try and see what caught her eye, heart dropping once he saw it. ‘It’ being Nick, Julie’s boyfriend from when they first started playing together and became friends. All distracting thoughts of tacos left his mind.

“Nick!” Julie called out, running towards the blonde man. He had grown up since Luke had seen him last, literally. Nick was definitely a couple inches taller than him, which  Luke stubbornly refused to acknowledge bothered him. His baby face was gone and he had five o’clock shadow.

Nick caught Julie as she ran to him and twirled her in a hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were in town,” he said in a pleasantly surprised tone as he lowered her, hands still on her hips. He looked up as Luke made his way over, giving him a polite smile.

“Hey Nick,” Luke waved. His eyes flickered down towards Nick’s hands still on Julie’s waist, trying to stifle his possessiveness. Julie was her own person and it wasn’t her fault that he was still jealous of Nick.

The blonde didn’t seem to notice, amazingly observant as ever. Thankfully, he still moved his hands. “Man, it's weird to see you guys outside of a magazine tabloid or a video call. How long has it been? A year?”

“Three,” Julie corrected him, “either that or I managed to skip to junior year of college alarmingly fast.”

Nick’s eyes widened, “it’s already been three years since high school?” He looked like he was about to have an existential crisis.

“And yet Luke is still a child,” Julie joked.

“Hey,” Luke complained.

“We’re actually about to get some tacos if you want to join us.”

“We are?” He turned to Julie excitedly, immediately forgetting why he was offended.

“Yeah, I know you. The second you bring up tacos you’re basically impossible to distract.”

Except for the blonde idiot I had to watch you obsess over for two years. It then processed that she had invited said blonde idiot to join them for tacos. Jealousy and hunger conflicted in his mind. Great, now Nick ruined tacos.

The blonde chuckled in amusement. “I would love to but I'm here with my mom. She’s not gonna last another five minutes without asking me to take her back to my apartment, let alone going out to eat.” Julie pouted at that, and  Luke couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the disappointment in Julie’s face or at Nick for disappointing her. 

“Well you have to tell your mom I said hi,” Julie ordered him. 

“Of course, my mom adores you,” Nick said sincerely. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw a familiar flash. Turning to look he saw a small group of paparazzi starting to form. Julie and Nick were completely unaware though.

“Jules,” Luke reached out to tap her arm for attention, to warn her. 

It was too late though. Julie propped herself up on her toes to plant a friendly kiss on Nick’s cheek. Luke couldn’t help the spike of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as he saw her lean over, feeling the frown on his face before he could stop it.

The paparazzi went nuts, cameras flashing like strobe lights as they tried to catch a picture of the scene. Julie turned in surprise as they surged forward and started hounding her with questions.

“Are the rumors of your split with Luke true?”

“Is this man your new boyfriend.”

“What’s your opinion your gay drummer.”

“Is it true that you had an illegitimate love child when you were sixteen.”

Julie’s eyes widened, frozen at the onslaught. Luke reached out his hand and yanked her free of the crowd. The paparazzi had drawn a lot of attention, causing a crowd to gather to see what they were going nuts over. 

“It’s Julie Molina!” Somebody shouted from the crowd. A bunch of people started murmuring in agreement, pulling out their phones. Luke cursed, their cover was blown. So much for a day without work.

Luke began to lead Julie away from the crowd at a hurried pace, making sure to wave and smile as he walked by them. Julie had recovered from her initial shock and joined him in their smile and wave.

Finally they made it to their car, breathless from exertion. The car was quiet, save for the sound of their labored breathing, until Julie broke the silence with a burst of laughter. Luke looked over at her in bewilderment, certain she had cracked from stress. She looked over at him and whatever she saw only made her double over harder, snorting between laughs.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern.

“I’m, I-I’m just.” Julie struggled to catch her breath so she could form her sentence. “I’m just imagining the tabloid covers tomorrow. Poor Nick’s mom is going to think we’re a thing again.” Luke’s eyes widened in horror at her realization. Julie just started laughing again, “oh my god PR is going to kill us.”

“We’re so screwed.” Luke agreed.

The next day, the headlines showed Julie kissing Nick’s cheek while Luke stood to the side with a pained grimace.

“Sweetheart or Heartbreaker? : Popstar Julie Molina flaunts new relationship in front of ex-beau Patterson. Does this mean the end of Julie and the Phantoms?” Read all about it on page 3.”

5 - The daredevil

“I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried,” the PR representative declared as she beamed at the photo like Christmas had come early. “There’s nothing like a scandal to catch media attention, and ultimately what people think you did was unproblematic enough that people have no reason to ‘cancel’ you.” She looked up at the two of them pensively, “did I use that word right? My middle-schooler taught me it the other day.” 

“You used it fine?” Julie glanced at Luke in confusion which he returned with a shrug to convey he was equally lost. He wasn’t sure what to say here. They had been prepared for a lecture, to get chewed out. Not whatever this was.

“So just checking, you aren’t mad about us accidentally causing drama?” Julie sounded skeptical. 

The woman scoffed "Are you kidding me? Management is over the moon with your band’s popularity ranking. Sales for their latest album went up by 15% in middle aged women and 3% in college students. You’re even on the Billboard top 100 music charts now.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh honey no of course not. Frankly it's a miracle you made it as long as you had without appearing on the front page of some crappy gossip magazine. This scandal was so mild that it probably helped you. Honestly you just show up a couple times acting like a happy couple and the bad part will be gone, leaving you with all the juicy benefits.”

“Wha…” Julie gaped at the woman like a fish, expression bewildered. If Luke looked hard enough he swore he could see the error message as her brain tried to process being freaked out for nothing. Luke reached out and linked their fingers together, squeezing her hand reassuringly. 

“We aren’t in trouble Julie,” he translated for her. 

“We aren’t in trouble?” Julie repeated skeptically.

“Look,” the woman leaned forward. “Your brand is defined by keeping your nose clean, not getting involved in anything controversial, being politically correct, and staying appropriate for all ages. All you did was make yourself a little messy, bored housewives and angsty teenagers like messy. And a little messy can also lead to good more messy.”

“Oh,” Julie nodded in understanding. She leaned over to Luke and whispered in his ear, “can you translate?”

“You were a perfect person, now you’re human, and something messy?”

“That’s so stupid,” she hissed, “I’m not perfect at all.” 

“I didn’t say I agreed with her,” he retorted. 

“Oh, so you don’t think I’m perfect?”

Luke felt the blood drain from his face. “Hold up-”

“And don’t even get me STARTED on Luke,” the woman interrupted him, “nothing is hotter than a heartbroken man.” 

“Julie is,” Luke said defensively. Julie blushed and kicked his shin under the table. She still had a pleased smile on his face though, so he figured he was forgiven for earlier. 

“Well not everybody is you,” the PR rep reminded him. “People want more of you now, and I have to say this is the perfect opportunity for you to start your solo career. Bobby sent over your rough demo to the big boss and is ready to make a team for you, just say the word.”

“I don’t want to release it now though,” Luke argued, ignoring the quizzical look Julie sent his way. With the argument with Billy, seeing Nick, and freaking out about them getting in trouble Luke had been too distracted to talk to her about it. The three days since recording the demo felt like an eternity ago now.  

“Well obviously not now, the demo song isn’t fully edited yet.” The woman rolled her eyes like ‘duh.’ “We want you to announce it on the red carpet when you go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood next week.” 

Luke sat in quiet, thinking about what the woman was offering. “Can I have some time? This is kind of a big decision.”

The woman waved him off, “yes fine. We don’t have to announce it at the premiere, but we need your decision by the end of the month.” The end of the month was less than three weeks away, not too much time. The woman turned to her computer and waved them off, “just act like a couple and the scandal blows away. See you at the end of the month.” 

As soon as he left the room, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “That was the opposite of what I expected.”

Julie laughed. “I think all it proved is that we are too goody two shoes to keep up with drama.”

“Maybe we should turn to a life of crime,” Luke suggested, “nothing too bad, just interesting.”

“What, like jaywalking?”

Luke staggered back in exaggerated horror. “I said nothing bad, you monster. I thought it was just a theory that only psychopaths drink black coffee but you just proved it right.”

“My bad,” Julie apologized, “how about cold-blooded murder?”

“Now we’re talking.” Luke smiled at Julie’s exasperated smile, leaning closer to link their hands together. “I got an idea on where you can start actually.”

“Jaywalking?”

“No, murder. You can kill me so I don’t have to go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood.” It had been exciting to write a song for a big budget movie soundtrack, and he was excited to see the film. It was just the whole formal event thing that he wasn’t a huge fan of.

Julie rolled her eyes at her dramatic boyfriend. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

“Wrong, I’ve been told if I want to go I gotta wear a tuxedo. Nobody should be cursed by the sight of me in a tuxedo.”

Instead of replying Julie stopped them in the hallway, turning him to face her and taking a step back. Her eyes trailed slowly up and down his body, her gaze hesitating on his neck, wrists, and lips. Luke felt himself start to flush at her shamelessly checking him out, nervously reaching up to scratch his forearm.

Finally, Julie nodded. “Thought so.” She turned heel and walked away.

“What?” Luke called after her.

Julie turned her head over her shoulder, eyes sparkling mischievously. “That it’s a damn shame you won’t see me in my dress.”

A week later, Luke was wearing the tux.

Unfairly though, Luke turned into a flustered mess once he saw Julie in her movie premiere dress. He struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor as he watched her blue-clothed figure make its way down the stairs. To be fair though, what did one expect him to do when an absolute goddess greeted him casually before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“We get it,” Reggie sighed, “you two are in love and hot and all single people everywhere hate you. Can you just get in the damn car now, I was promised champagne and pigs in a blanket.”

Luke flushed at being called out by Reggie. He reached out his hand to lock fingers with Julie, helping her get the long dress into the limo. He kept that hand the whole ride, tracing the veins while he pretended he wasn’t staring at her. She could have told him to jump off a bridge that moment and he would have done it.

He wasn’t able to stick with her once they got to the red carpet though. After taking a band group picture she was pulled to the side for solo pictures, flashing an apologetic look their way. Luke knew she felt bad for being more famous than the rest of them but the guys honestly didn’t like the attention fame brought them. The three of them were more than happy to let somebody else be their face and stick to the background. Luke knew Julie couldn’t stand it either, but it was kind of hard to hide while being the lead singer.

He gestured to let her know that they would be inside waiting for her and she blew him a quick kiss goodbye. Luke felt the dopey grin on his face as Alex and Reggie dragged him inside to the party. 

“Can we stay here instead of watching the movie,” Reggie mused. Luke couldn’t help but agree with him. There were tables overflowing with food and a champagne fountain in the corner. There were also three separate bartending stations spread throughout the room that Luke was pretty sure were all open bar. Besides, the movie sounded kind of dumb anyway. It was just a drama musical about ghosts haunting the Ritz.

“Guys, we literally helped make the movie,” Alex reminded him. “The man who owns the company who manages us produced this movie.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed slowly, “ counterpoint, Caleb Covington is an ass and we should eat all of his food in silent protest.” 

Alex shrugged, “I’m convinced.” 

Skipping the movie meant that Luke lost Julie for the duration of the film. He sent a quick text to let her know the others were skipping and she replied that she was going to watch it still. It ended up being nice to goof off with his friends for a while, having hot dog eating contests with overpriced pigs in a blanket just hit different for some reason. 

He finally found her again later chatting with a guy Luke didn’t know. The man was wearing a black suit over a low cut flower print button up. His brown hair was tied in a knot at the base of his neck and there was a scar expanding down the side of his face. Luke made his way over to say hi with Alex trailing after him. He started catching their conversation the closer he got.

“It’s not that I’m against dating or hookups, it's just that people my type are usually not interested.” The man shrugged in an ‘oh well’ gesture and took a sip of his champagne.

Julie leaned in close to him. “Well I know somebody exactly your type who would be interested,” she whispered loudly. Luke frowned at the suggestive tone as she went to take another sip of her champagne. He was almost to them now with Alex not far behind.

“Oh yeah,” the man smirked, leaning  in closer to her, “and who might that be?” 

Oh HELL no, Luke’s inner voice growled. He pulled up next to them and coughed, startling the two out of their exchange. The man took a step back from Julie who just stared at him without moving.

“Luke!” Julie said in an excited tone, a wide smile spread across her face. “I missed you so much. Never leave me alone at a premiere ever again.” 

Luke wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, staring at the man in front of him to make sure he was getting the message to stop flirting with his girlfriend. He planted a kiss on her forehead, “I promise.” Julie grinned up at him, her eyes just a little too bright. Looking down at her empty champagne glass he wondered just how many she had already had. 

“You look too serious, Willie isn’t serious. Willie is the stunt double for the main character. Willie is a badass. Willie, Willie, Willie.” Julie laughed at some internal joke that he wasn’t privy to. Leaning towards his ear she whispered “Willie’s been keeping me company for you, slacker,” just as loudly as her earlier whisper.

Luke felt a flare of jealousy that his drunk girlfriend was waxing poetic about some guy he had never met while he was right next to her. The flare only fueled at Julie’s loudly whispered confession. He turned a dark stare towards the other man.

“You call it badass, I call it a paycheck,” Willie’s mouth formed a small fond smile at Julie, completely unaffected by Luke’s glare. 

“Bad. Ass.” Julie insisted, reaching forward to poke Willie’s chest to enunciate each word.

Willie looked up at Luke in amusement. “Is she always this stubborn?”

“Worse actually,” Alex spoke up. He slid up next to Luke holding his own glass of champagne. The glass looked completely full, and Luke would have bet money that it was purely for show. “She’s easy to distract when she’s drunk so you can just change the subject to start arguing.”

Laughing, Willie turned to face Alex. He opened his mouth to say something but paused halfway through, mouth snapping shut. As the two made eye contact Luke could swear the room got a little quieter. Alex’s smile faded into a small ‘oh’ of amazement as he stared at the other boy while the small smile on Willie’s face stretched out into a crooked grin, eyes crinkling. 

“Uh, hey.” Willie broke the silence.

“Hey there,” Alex replied awkwardly. 

Luke jumped as Julie poked his side excitedly. “Luke and I gotta got. Alex.”Julie gripped the boy in question’s arm and leaned toward him “You need to take care of Willie, cause he hung out with me all night. I’m drunk so I think I’m not good to take care of him. I couldn’t even take care of a baby.” Julie’s laughter at her own joke quickly transformed into a haunted stare, “my god could kill a baby.”

“Yeah, she’s done.” Luke pulled Julie back to his side. “Thank you for keeping her company,” Luke said to Willie, the words felt like poison in his mouth. 

“It was nothing, Julie’s cool.” Willie glanced over for just a moment before turning his gaze back to an oblivious Alex.

“Wait, we can’t leave until Alex promises me,” Julie protested as Luke tried to lead her away.

“I promise I’ll take care of your friend,” Alex’s tone was serious but his lips turned up in a very amused smile.

“I hope you take very good care of me,” Willie mused, casually raising his champagne glass to his lips. Alex turned red as a fire truck and started stammering at the bold flirtations.

And on that note. Luke grabbed Julie and began to lead her away from the pair, his good mood back. He was already looking forward to teasing Alex mercilessly tomorrow. Not to mention the green-eyed monster had calmed down a little now that he knew Willie was gay.

“Alex is so cute and Willie is so cute and they are both so nice,” Julie rambled. Luke smiled down at her in amusement, she always was a happy drunk. 

“How did you know Willie was gay though?” He asked, leading her down the hall to the cars. He pulled out his phone to order one of those discreet taxis that usually brought the other drunk celebrities home.

“What?” Julie asked in confusion, “Willie isn’t gay he’s bi. Bi bi birdie.” She giggled. “Willie is so cute.”

The green-eyed monster raised his head again to wink. 

+1 The Mother?

Luke was absentmindedly plucking the chords to Flying Solo on his acoustic. He had a flight that morning to Los Angeles, but his anxiety over what tomorrow had in store was making it hard for him to sleep. His plans to relax and spend the day with Julie had only made his nerves worse because she was pissed off at him for seemingly no reason.

So here he was at 2 am, less than three hours until he needed to be leaving trying to figure out what exactly he had done to piss her off. 

It wasn’t that he kept the demo to himself, as far as he knew, because they had talked about it already and she said she understood not wanting to say anything until it was official. Luke even gave her permission to listen to it before it was ready. It wasn’t for losing her at the party because he would have gotten an earful the day after. It certainly wasn’t because he had left the toilet seat up in their apartment, he had learned a while ago not to do that.

The only thing he wasn’t sure about was the whole ‘solo career’ thing. 

Luke had planned his trip so that he got back to New York the day of the deadline, which absolutely boggled his mind that he only had six days before making such a big decision. He and the rest of the band had discussed it at length, it was the kind of thing that concerned them after all. The other guys had been excited for him and Julie had been as encouraging as ever, talking about all the recognition and fans he would have.

When he thought about going solo though, he thought about how boring it was recording alone in the studio. How great it felt to be a part of the team, to succeed with his favorite people in the world. How much he hated being the center of attention. After talking to them it hit him just how much the idea of doing the music performing thing without them sucked. Luke was never in it for fame anyways, he just wanted to connect with people through music.

Luke told Julie as much in private, that he was pretty sure he wanted to stay with the band but wanted to wait to tell the others. Then he confessed that this trip would decide if he even wanted to release the single at all, since the song was so personal. Julie had patted his hand and given him one of her sad smiles. Since then, the crabby mood.

Hence, the solo career being the number one culprit.  There was a thought nagging at the back of his head though, insisting that he give it the time of day. What if Julie wants you out of the band because she’s getting tired of you?

It wasn’t the craziest thing to think about. Julie was meeting amazing people who did amazing things all the time, and Luke knew they all were well aware of how much of a catch she was. People like Willie, her highschool sweetheart Nick, even prince Nikolai of Denmark.What if Julie had realized she was tired of foster kid Luke and his issues and realized she could have a literal royalty. 

What if the only reason she hadn’t broken up with him already was that she was too nice? If that was the case, him refusing to go solo would have made her realize it would be basically impossible to escape being around him. Luke felt his stomach churn with anxiety over going home and jealousy. 

In Luke’s opinion, it would really suck if his girlfriend dumped him. Especially since part of his reason to go home being that he needed to pick up her mom's engagement ring from the jewelers. 

Or maybe she was just stressed because of her Rolling Stone celebrity profile photo shoot tomorrow, and Luke was making up her being mad at him in his head. Luke really hoped that was the case.

As the time neared 3 am, Luke finally accepted that he wasn’t going to calm himself down enough for even just a quick nap. Sighing in resignation, he began fingerpicking notes in random order until something started sounding good. He eventually realized he was humming to himself as he played, no words just a melody.

Lyrics he had written a couple weeks ago drifted in his mind. He had thrown out because they were a little too cheesy and knew the guys would have teased him if they ever read them. They hadn’t even managed to be half a song, so he wasn’t too beat up about ditching it. But now, he was alone and writing songs had always been a good backup to just practicing.

“Step into my world, bittersweet love story 'bout a girl shook me to the core. Voice like an angel I've never heard before. You set me free, me loving you is more than chemistry. I'll hold your music here inside me while my heart is in your hands. Melody and words are all I am, and when I’m with you there’s perfect harmony.”

Luke trailed off and sighed. All the song made him do is think about Julie, which made him sad again. Besides, the song didn’t feel right. He turned to put his guitar on a stand, pausing as he saw the figure leaning against the doorway.

“Julie?” Luke was confused. “What are you doing here?” The studio was a ten minute drive from their apartment, and last he checked she was asleep when he left. His girlfriend was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a band tee and her hair was pulled on to the top of her head in a messy bun. She looked like she had literally rolled out of bed.

“Why are you hiding in the practice studio at 3 am?” Julie raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

Luke sighed and looked down at his guitar. “I just needed to think, to clear my head.”

“Why? So you can decide whether or not you’re going to dump me for some girl in LA tomorrow?”

Luke felt his eyebrows rise so high on his face, he was pretty certain they were at his hairline, from his surprise at Julie’s accusation. What the hell was she talking about? Asking if he was going to ‘dump her for some girl’ like he was even capable of noticing somebody other than her. “What are you-”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Julie said in mock remorse, “I forgot I was supposed to play stupid about you pining over some girl named Emily. Silly me, I just got a little upset when you implied the whole point of your super-secret personal trip was to go see your long lost love. You know I have a little difficulty being properly supportive when I’m upset.”

Luke stared at his girlfriend in bewilderment as she glared back at him. Her words were processing slowly in his head, not quite understanding how she got the idea that he was in love with mom. Then it hit, his eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh! You listened to the demo.”

“Yeah,” Julie said icily, “I listened to your love ballad apology.” She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Luke realized in a start that she looked like she was about to cry. She looked back down at him, face melted from angry to devastated. “You know everything about my exes, you were with me through Nick breaking my heart. Why didn’t I even know about this ‘Emily’ girl? Did you not trust me?” Julie choked and a tear slid down her cheek. “Or did you know that the second I found out about her I would realize you were still in love with her?”

“Julie.” Luke felt his heart drop at the sight of her crying. His movements were so instinctive he didn’t even realize he was going to hug her until he was already doing it. Her body shook as she cried but she didn’t try and push him away. “Julie,” he said gently, “before you get more upset, I need you to remember what my mom’s name is.”

“E-Emily. But why?” Julie froze as she realized, pulling herself away from the hug. She looked up at Luke, tears still on her cheeks. “Unsaid Emily is for your mom.”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t dramatically telling a girl you are still in love with her.”

“Nope.”

“You just wrote a heartfelt emotional song apologizing to your mom.”

“Yes.”

“This trip is for you to go see your parents and try to apologize to them, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Julie stared up at him blankly. Luke watched her, waiting for her to say something else. Finally, the girl reached out to smack his arm not ungently.

“You jerk!” She yelled at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were trying to do that. I would have tried to help you!”

“I know,” Luke sighed, “to be honest, I didn’t want you to come in case I backed out last minute or they rejected me. Cause if you were there, it would be real. And you got that big Rolling Stone article tomorrow, I didn’t want you to cancel.” 

Julie’s face dropped into something more sympathetic, reaching out to hold his hand. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for accusing you of leaving me for your mom”

Luke let out a short laugh, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t believe you thought I would leave you at all though.”

“To be honest if it wasn’t this I probably would have thought it at some point anyway,” Julie confessed with a shrug. “I’ve kind of thought you were getting bored of me honestly. 

His eyes widened in surprise. “What could I have possibly done to give you that impression?”

“You want a list?” Julie raised an eyebrow. “I saw the way you kept staring at that fan Lucy. Then you and Carrie were all chummy and went out together the day after my dad’s party without me. And while I was trying to set Willie up with Alex you got all mad at me and possessive over him.” Julie’s shoulders slumped, “I didn’t say anything cause it technically wasn’t cheating I didn’t want you to get annoyed and leave me.”

Luke stared at her sad face in bewilderment before bursting out in laughter. Julie glared at his amusement, “I really don’t know what you found that so funny.”

“Babe,” Luke grinned, “I was staring at Lucy because I was jealous of her flirting with you. At the premiere I wasn’t possessive of Alex, he may have been my ex but he isn’t my very sexy, smart, funny, and talented girlfriend. I was getting jealous because you kept rambling about how awesome Willie was and calling him your night and shining armor.”

“Oh,” Julie’s glare shifted into surprise. 

“You’ve been so worried about me getting bored and I was worried about the same thing,” Luke confessed, “I am so completely in love with you and I’m not sure what I would do if you didn’t do the same.”

Julie smiled, stepping into Luke’s space, reaching up to intertwine her hands behind his neck. “I kind of love you too Luke Patterson.” Luke beamed, moving his head down to capture her lips in a kiss, wrapping his hands around her waist.

Julie shivered under his hands, better than any kind of high Luke ever experienced. He smiled at Julie’s little gasp of surprise as he pulled her closer, arching her back to pull him into a deeper kiss. Luke slanted his head in a different angle, humming in contentment.

Julie was the one to break the kiss, still locked against Luke in his arms. “I should make you jealous more often," she gasped against Luke’s cheek, as he kissed the corner of her mouth. 

He froze, “don’t you dare.”

She laughed. “Well maybe you should convince me not you,” she teased flirtatiously.

“Well maybe you should marry me,” Luke blurted out. 

Mid laugh, Julie’s face froze in surprise. Luke felt his heart start to beat like crazy, instantly regretting his words.

He hadn’t meant to say it like this. His plan was to bring her to her studio at her dad’s place. To tell her how he had realized he loved her the first time she hugged him after they performed, how he realized she was the woman he was going to marry after they wrote Edge of Great at 1 am their senior year. How he wasn’t able to stop smiling for a week when she told him she liked him at graduation. How the past three years have been the happiest of his life.

It was not meant to be blurted out after the two of them just had an argument over whether or not Luke was sleeping with his mom. He didn’t have his ring, wasn’t down on one knee, and definitely looked like crap from not sleeping. Julie deserved better than that. She wasn’t going to say-

“Yes,” Julie blurted out, cutting through his train of thought.

His brain circuited. “What?”

“Yes I’ll marry you, you big idiot.” 

Luke beamed, heart soaring with joy. She said yes! He cupped her cheeks and started peppering her face with kisses. He was so happy that he was sure he could fly. Finally, he settled on her lips for a slow sweet kiss.

Once again Julie was the one to separate them, leaning back. “I am so canceling my Rolling Stones shoot.”

Three days later, Luke knocked on the door to a brick house in the suburbs of LA. He started fidgeting nervously, unaware of his fiddling fingers until Julie’s warm and slid into his own. He looked down at their joined hands with a smile, Julie’s mom’s engagement ring catching the light. He could do this, he could do anything as long as she was by his side.

The door swung open to reveal a tired grey-haired woman. Her eyes widened as she saw Luke.

“Hi mom. I’m home.” 

[dinosaurtsukki]

wherefore art thou, romeo? | an osamu x f!reader one-shot

pairing: osamu miya x f!reader

word count: 6.1k words

contains: a boatload of crack, fluff if you squint, high school setting, more bickering than working on the actual play, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, brief mentions of the romeo and juliet with leonardo di caprio in it

summary: being best friends with the miya twins for years has prepared you for all of their shenanigans but even you’re taken by surprise when osamu, the guy you’ve been in love with for years, nominates you to play juliet for the class play and atsumu to play romeo

a/n: *squints at word count* okay this was supposed to be released in three chapters but i ended up writing all of it in one go and i didn’t know exactly where to separate the chapters so here it goes 

the day started out fairly normal, if fairly normal meant that your two best friends were using your ruler to divide a candy bar accurately into two during homeroom while waiting for the teacher, could be called ‘fairly normal.’ but when those two friends were the miya twins, that’s how normal things got. the teacher arrived a bit later, announcing some reminders about the cultural festival dates, before the time was handed over to the Class President, a guy with glasses and straight black hair that you and your friends just called ‘Mr. President.’

“for the cultural festival, our class, due to majority votes, has decided to put on the play: ‘Romeo and Juliet,’“ Mr. President announced. judging from his cheeky smile, you could tell that he may have had a hand in those ‘majority votes.’ 

“aw, yuck. don’t tell me ya voted for that, y/n,” atsumu nudged you from behind your desk.

“why are you assuming its me?” you grumbled, batting his hand away.

“aw, no crepe cafe then,” osamu said sullenly beside you. your gaze was pulled to him, as it always was. now that the spring inter-high was over, osamu was mostly in his school uniform, not that you minded. his silver hair, that he got in trouble with the principal for, was pushed haphazardly to the side and gleamed in the sunlight.

“now,” Mr. President continued. “what we have to decide on right now is who gets which acting roles and who gets to do the technical jobs.”

“painting sets? painting sets?” atsumu poked you and osamu. 

“hmm, i’d kind of like to work on the lights,” you hummed, already imagining yourself scrolling through your phone and switching on the spotlight once every few minutes. osamu was quiet and you knew he was probably thinking of painting sets too.

“now, is there anyone who’d like to volunteer for playing romeo?” Mr. President asked, surveying the class. “you can also nominate people and--”

osamu abruptly raised his hand up. your eyes widened, wondering if he was going to volunteer. atsumu had the same concern.

“whoa, whoa. don’t tell me yer thinkin’ of playing romeo?” atsumu laughed incredulously.

but that isn’t what osamu did. in full Dramatic Flair, osamu miya pointed at his twin and announced “i nominate miya atsumu to play romeo.”

the laughter in atsumu’s voice died as quickly as the class erupted into murmurs. based on the snatches of conversation you heard, atsumu was going to be wielding a sword and probably wearing tights.

“okay, that’s one nomination for atsumu to play romeo,” Mr. President nodded, writing atsumu’s name on the board. you stifled a giggle as you heard atsumu stand up in his seat behind you.

“wait! wait! i nominate ‘samu to play romeo!” atsumu exclaimed hurriedly. the reaction wasn’t as loud as before and osamu flashed his twin a smug grin. 

“i’ll make sure to get a nice, bright spotlight on you,” you smiled cheekily at him.

“so, we have atsumu-san nominated to play romeo and--”

“i’m not done,” osamu interrupted. “i also nominate y/n to play juliet.” 

if atsumu reacted at a snail’s pace, yours was quite similar to how ketchup fell out of a bottle: none at first, before coming out all at once. within that length of time you spent staring into the void, Mr. President already wrote down your name on the blackboard and proceeded with the rest of the nominations (there weren’t any). the class voted, and you just barely felt someone pat you on the back to congratulate you for the role.

it was right when the decision over the roles was over when you turned slowly towards osamu, who had the audacity to flash a peace sign at you, and whisper ‘what have you done?’

...

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YA NOMINATED US TO PLAY ROMEO AND JULIET!” you and atsumu practically screamed at osamu during lunch break and for the rest of the day until you got to the miya twins’ house, where you spent most of your time, and cracked open the script that Mr. President handed out.

“sheesh, that was hours ago. get over it already,” osamu said, not looking up from the book he was reading: Beginner Techniques in Set Design. you didn’t even think he was reading, just mocking you and atsumu about the fact that he got the awesome job of painting sets. 

“it was hours ago but atsumu and i are stuck with rehearsals for weeks!” you complained.

“not only that, but we’d have ta read shit and memorize shit,” atsumu seethed. “and we know that y/n sucks at that!” 

“hey! i bet i could do better than you!” 

“i don’t think ya can!” 

osamu watched the battle from the top of his book, smiling to himself as you and atsumu quickly got into one of your fights that distracted you from the main reason behind the fight: osamu himself. ‘they’re still just like kids,’ he thought, watching you proceed to trap atsumu in a headlock. 

the three of you had been the best of friends since grade school when you pushed atsumu off a jungle gym and osamu laughed and high-fived you. it was when the three of you were eating breakfast after a sleepover in your first year of high school, when you said that atsumu only had two brain cells and that ‘one was a skater boy, the other said see you later boy’ and osamu laughed so hard he got milk coming out of his house, that he realized he just might be in love with you. 

“so, why didn’t you nominate yourself to play romeo?” suna asked him the next day while they were in the middle of stapling felt stars on a piece of dark blue fabric. like osamu, he was also lucky enough to be put in set design. “i mean, if you like her so much.” 

“because i don’t want to play romeo,” osamu said as-a-matter-of-factly. “and i think making ‘tsumu do it is hilarious.”

“you really do have a one-track mind,” suna hummed and turned around to where atsumu and y/n were already busy working on the scene where romeo and juliet meet.

“ugh i have to kiss her hand?” 

“well, do you want to kiss my foot?” 

“i’d rather kick ya in the face!” 

“you know, i feel like this on its own would make a great play,” suna said, watching the scene. 

“a romeo and juliet where the lovers actually hate each other but their opposing families desperately want to push them into an arranged marriage. sounds pretty neat,” osamu mused.

“okay, why don’t you two take a break, collect yourselves, and then we’ll come back in ten,” Mr. President sighed. at that, you and atsumu quickly stopped quarreling and stalked off in different directions. you headed straight for osamu and suna.

“sometimes i can’t tell who’s the more insufferable one between you two,” you narrowed your eyes at osamu who had the audacity (the only thing he never seemed to run out of) to smile innocently.

“it’s one of life’s greatest mysteries. like, whether the chicken or the egg came first,” suna added. 

“just give it a few weeks. atsumu will soon embrace his fate and you’ll be an amazing juliet,” osamu patted the top of your head. if you weren’t so annoyed with him you would have felt the butterflies in your stomach. except now you just wanted to bite his hand off.

“you know what, i’m going to kita’s later,” you muttered, pulling your phone out to text kita shinsuke, aka your adoptive mother. 

“hmm? why?” osamu asked.

“because he’s the only sane person i know. plus he’ll help me out with my lines,” you explained, sighing with relief when you got a prompt reply from kita.

“oh, well i was planning to buy some convenience store snacks that i saw on sale for when i do homework later,” osamu said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“maybe next time,” you smiled apologetically. “but in the meantime, maybe get your twin over there to memorize his and not fuck up.” osamu looked up at his brother who was holding the script up a few inches from his face.

“you’re right,” osamu agreed. “but, it would also be funny to edit out a few words here and there.” you returned his cheeky grin.

“you read my mind.”

...

“kitaaa what if it means something that osamu chose to make me and atsumu romeo and juliet,” you groaned, face planted on the coffee table in kita’s living room while he peeled tangerines. “like, what if he realized i actually liked him for this long and this is his way of friend-zoning me?”

“osamu’s the kind of person who’d tell you right away if he doesn’t have the same feelings for you,” kita shook his head.

“that means he’s going to reject me soon!” you sat up, planting your hands on the table.”

“y/n, you’re doing it again,” kita gently reminded. “think of it this way, maybe he nominated you to play juliet because he wants to see you as juliet. but he’s not fully ready for the commitment so he nominated atsumu to be romeo.”

“or he just wants to mess with us, which is probably the case,” you chuckled half-heartedly. “maybe i’ll just believe that.”

“or, think of it this way,” kita placed a peeled tangerine into your hand, like the mom friend that he was. “you could use the opportunity to be the best juliet ever, someone that osamu can barely tear his eyes away from.”

“and i can show up atsumu at the same time!” you grinned at the idea. kita sighed.

“you know, i feel like your sheer desire to just beat atsumu at everything may be a hindrance but go on.” 

“yeah, yeah, you lost me at ‘beat atsumu at everything’,” you sang as you cracked open your script. “now help me. i have to memorize all this by tomorrow.” 

...

“i think yer all wondering why i’ve gathered ya here today,” atsumu began.

“we’re... in the volleyball clubroom,” aran spoke slowly.

“which is where we always hang out,” suna added. atsumu raised an eyebrow and a hand to silence them, which sometimes worked.

“i’ve gathered ya guys to form the all-important, top-secret team with only one goal in mind!” atsumu paused for dramatic effect, which suna purposely ruined by coughing. “we’re gonna to get myself out of playing romeo for the class play.” 

“let me guess, whatever it takes?” aran asked, his arms folded.

“whatever it takes!”

and atsumu took that completely seriously. the next day, he gathered aran and suna to the clubroom again to execute his master plan, version 1: operation casting call.

“get it? cause, ya know, i’m part of a cast, and i’ll be showing up in a cast,” atsumu grinned proudly, showing off the roll of bandages that he bought yesterday at a drugstore. 

“okay, first of all: lame pun,” aran sighed. “secondly, that’s not a cast you’re just wrapping your foot in bandages and not encasing it in plaster which i think was what you were originally going for. lastly, do you realize just how many holes your plan has?”

“oh yeah? like what?” atsumu crossed his arms and scoffed.

“like the fact that your twin brother would know whether or not you were injured yesterday,” suna brought up.

“...i’ll jus’ say that i sprained my ankle jus’ now,” atsumu said.

“as if he’s going to believe you,” suna snorted.

“i’m just saying, please ditch this plan before you embarrass yourself,” aran sighed. atsumu felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

“sh-shut up! this plan is gonna work and i’m not gonna play fuckin’ romeo for another day!” atsumu snapped. “now help bind my foot.” 

aran and suna looked at each other. “you’re taking a video of what’s happening later,” aran said while suna nodded.

“i hate ya guys,” atsumu crossed his arms. 

a few minutes later, his foot was all wrapped up thanks to aran and atsumu was propped up on suna as he hobbled into the classroom. with full dramatic flair that he never seemed to run out of, atsumu slid open the door to the classroom.

“Mr. President! sorry to say this but i sprained my ankle!” he cried. everyone inside turned to look at him with you raising an eyebrow at the dubious looking ‘sprained ankle.’ 

“you know, if you spoke like that all the time you’d make a great romeo,” his twin quickly piped up from near the door where he was busy painting a tree.

“shut up ‘samu, ya traitor,” atsumu muttered at him. Mr. President had walked closer and inspected the bound foot.

“osamu, is this true?” he asked.

“w-wha? don’t ya believe me?” atsumu splattered. beside him, suna had already brought out his phone. mad, atsumu pushed himself off his ‘friend’ and tapped his ‘sprained’ foot on the ground. ‘it hurts! see! ow!” atsumu lied.

quick as a flash, osamu kicked atsumu’s good foot, causing him to hop on his ‘sprained’ foot. 

“fuck! ‘samu!” he yelled. 

“well, i guess there’s nothing to worry about,” Mr. President smiled and clapped his hands together. “and atsumu-san, that was a good attempt at acting. i hope you channel that passion into rehearsal today.” 

atsumu could do nothing else but mumble. “yeah, fine...”

...

“i can’t believe atsumu even thought that his plan would work,” you laughed, recounting the events of earlier that day. you were sprawled across the wooden floor backstage the theater your class was going to use for the cultural festival. osamu was right beside you, painting one of the backdrops for the play. 

“i really do think all the brainpower went to me sometimes,” osamu mused as he carefully painted the sky around the white clouds. there was a look of pure concentration on his face that made you think that maybe osamu was quite excited to do the set design for the play. ‘it’s always the things that you don’t really expect him to get into,’ you wondered as you watched him. 

“hey, is this shade of blue a bit too... blue?” he asked, holding the paintbrush to you. you scooted over next to him, grateful for the excuse to be nearer osamu. 

“it could use a bit more white to look more like the sky,” you answered.

“hmm, can you pass me that can of white from over there?” 

“sure, let me just-- hey!”

a splatter of blue paint landed on your nose as osamu swiped his paint brush over it. once again, he had the audacity to snicker as you grabbed the paint brush from him to splatter blue paint over his hair.

“you are so dead, miya osamu,” you narrowed your eyes and grinned at him as you picked up the tube of red paint from beside your knees.

“wait, wait y/n,” osamu laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “that’s red paint right there.” 

“you didn’t seem to have a problem with brushing light blue paint on my nose!” you exclaimed pointing at your face. 

“well, it is a bit of a good look because it brings out your eyes--” he was cut off by you squirting red paint right at his face. slowly, osamu raised a hand to touch the paint on his cheek. “you know, i kind of deserve that.” 

“you definitely do,” you stared down at him with both hands on your hips before bursting out laughing. osamu blinked up at you before joining in the laughter. even with your blue nose, you still looked absolutely radiant. just like how you were earlier during rehearsals as you did your best performance of juliet. you captured everyone’s attention and even atsumu actually made an effort to get to your level.

“come on,” osamu chuckled, standing up and ruffling your hair with the hand that still had red paint on it. “let’s go wash up.” 

the feeling of him ruffling your hair was such an old and familiar gesture that you couldn’t even remember when osamu started doing that. but you could clearly remember everything else you did when you were kids. watching cartoons and mixing different kinds of cereal in the morning, trying to climb up the drainpipes into each other’s rooms, the endless cycle of calling each other names, crying from too much teasing, and saying sorry only to forget two minutes later. 

you watched, head cocked to the side as osamu washed the paint from his face while you dried your hair. he didn’t realize just how much soap he was getting in his eyes and the cute, childishness of it made you giggle.

“what?” osamu looked, or rather, turned his head to you.

“your eyes are going to burn at this rate,” you snickered, stepping over to him and placing your hands under the faucet before gently washing the soap from osamu’s face. you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you were doing it and by then, it was too late. osamu didn’t seem to mind, not even when you used the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“there, now you just have a big red stain on your nose,” you laughed nervously as osamu opened his eyes.

“at least it goes with my hair,” osamu snickered, tossing his towel over your head before ruffling it. you felt your face heat up and smiled awkwardly at him in response.

“is this your idea of trying to dry my hair?”

“i think it’s kind of working.”

“it’s not working,” you laughed, taking the towel from him. “but thanks.” you felt your throat tighten with the words you wanted but were too afraid to say. you didn’t know when you started falling for one of your best friends and maybe it was thanks to all the shoujo manga you’ve read for years, but you knew that the best friend and the main character rarely ever got together. 

luckily, it was osamu who said something. “you know, you were pretty good earlier as juliet. i bet ‘tsumu was threatened,” he laughed, lifting his bag and starting to walk towards the school exit. you jogged to catch up to him. 

“no thanks to you though,” you snorted. 

“hey, it’s all for the sake of making memories,” 

“we could have made memories while painting sets,” you huffed. “you know, like more paint fights.” osamu flashed a sideways smile at you.

“we’d have those regardless. i wanted to see you as juliet.” 

you could feel your heart beating loudly in your ears as you forced yourself to think of a million other reasons as to why osamu would say that, only to focus on the single, most probable one that could mean everything you’ve ever dreamed of coming true. “osamu, i--” 

“i can’t believe ya left me!” atsumu exclaimed loudly behind you two, causing you to jump. you turned around just as he slung his arms around both of you and his twin.

“i can’t believe you thought pretending to sprain your ankle would work,” osamu muttered, looking slightly annoyed at his twin.

“shut up! i can’t believe ya’d break my cover! my own brother!”

“i think you two are way past that already,” you snickered, slightly annoyed at atsumu’s sudden appearance but unable to admit that you didn’t miss having him around either.

‘if i never get to confess to osamu, i’ll still have this,’ you thought, with a satisfied smile on your face.

...

“no offense, atsumu, but i think you should just move on from the fact that your plan to get yourself out of playing romeo just isn’t going to work,” suna said, lounging across his friend’s bed and uploading the video he took of atsumu’s ‘master plan’ failing. “just accept your fate, like what romeo did.” atsumu stopped pacing and regarded suna with a raised eyebrow.

“ya read the play?” 

“i read the summary,” suna answered. “at this rate, everyone knows you’re going to be faking some accident.” atsumu made no response and suna realized he needed just one more push. “also, you’re basically losing to y/n.” 

that got atsumu’s attention. “since when did she wanna be juliet anyway?” he muttered. 

just then, the door to their room flew open and in walked a very excited aran carrying a relic from the past, an actual DVD in its case, and a bag from the convenience store.

“yer late,” atsumu scowled at him. 

“yeah, and you didn’t listen to what i said and looked really dumb earlier,” aran said, much to atsumu’s embarrassment. “anyway, i think i have a solution to your woes,” he grinned, presenting the DVD to the two of them.

“what the fuck am i gonna do with movie ‘romeo and juliet?’“ atsumu frowned.

“it’s not just any romeo and juliet movie, it’s the romeo and juliet movie!” aran said enthusiastically. “starring leonardo di caprio!” 

“who now?”

“he’s the guy who didn’t win an oscar for years until the bear movie,” suna explained.

“ooooohhh.” 

“you uncultured shits,” aran sighed. “anyway, atsumu, just accept your fate--” 

“that’s what i’ve been trying to tell him!” 

“... and open your eyes to how awesome it is to play romeo!” aran finished. atsumu looked from the DVD in his friend’s hands, to suna on his bed, and to the bag of convenience store snacks, before sighing and nodding.

“if i decide it’s shit ten minutes in, we’re dropping the movie and yer all gonna tell me i’m right.” 

but he was wrong, oh so wrong. 

just like every middle-aged mom or english literature university student who watched Romeo + Juliet, atsumu was pulled in by leonardo di caprio’s sincere, expressive eyes. he practically swooned at the scene where romeo and juliet met from different sides of the fish tank to that iconic pool kiss, and by the end of the movie, atsumu almost teared up. he tried to hold back his emotions, in the hopes of not looking lame in front of his friends, only to find aran practically sobbing and suna clutching his knees to his chest.

“that was... really fucking beautiful,” atsumu cursed as the credits rolled.

“do you understand now? what it means to play romeo?” aran put a hand on his shoulder.

“do it for leo di caprio, atsumu,” suna added. atsumu sniffed and nodded his head eagerly.

“i will, i’ll do it for leo.”

...

it was a normal day at school, if normal meant you were wearing a blanket wrapped around your waist to make you ‘feel as if you were in costume’ and mixing vending machine coffee and vending machine chocolate milk in styrofoam cups with your best friend who also happened to be the guy you were in love with. that was as normal as thing got when you were best friends with the miya twins.

and that only meant that seeing atsumu come in for rehearsals, with a determined spark in his eyes, and recite every line to utter perfection that you knew william shakespeare himself would be proud of, was just pushing the boundaries of ‘normal.’

that only meant you had to be on your A-game too and before you knew it, you and atsumu had put on your best performance yet. your undying competitiveness and atsumu’s devotion to leonardo di caprio had gone a long way. all throughout that, osamu had a ‘cat-who-just-ate-the-canary’ smile on his face as he watched from the props area.

“you look like you’re going to say ‘all according to keikaku’ at any time,” suna observed. 

“oh, i am saying it in my head,” osamu said, watching you and atsumu onstage. he had hoped for two outcomes: either you were both comically terrible at the play, or that you were slightly mediocre. but a part in his mind knew you would find a way to surprise him. you always did, after all.

yours and atsumu’s performance got everybody in class even more motivated about the play. osamu ended up in a million meetings with the fellow set designers, even learning how to paint trees to look as life-like as possible. although being busy wasn’t enough to distract him from looking at you, especially when dress rehearsals began and you were wearing the most stunning dress that the costume department worked on. meanwhile, atsumu pretty much rehearsed, ate, and slept with his prop sword. 

finally, the big day of the cultural festival came around. despite the fact that you utterly loathed having to play juliet at first, you couldn’t help but feel proud at how far you’ve come. 

“hey, maybe i should just go to acting school or something,” you joked, sitting beside osamu and smoothing your dress over your legs which dangled over the side of the stage.

“you’ll run home crying after you hear any sort of criticism,” osamu snorted.

“mean! i deal with criticism really well!” you pouted. osamu raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “you know i was joking. the fact that i haven’t received any acceptance letters from the universities i applied to is kind of making me crazy.” 

“so, is the fact that you’re playing a fourteen year-old girl who has to hide her love from her entire family before later killing herself a good way of escaping?” osamu asked.

“yeah, that and watching atsumu’s surprising transformation,” you snickered, turning around to watch atsumu and suna horsing around onstage. or rather, it was just suna from one end of the stage tossing chocolate chips at atsumu who was attempting to catch them with his mouth. 

“i asked suna and aran about what changed but their lips are tightly sealed,” osamu shrugged. “i like to think that he hit his head somewhere.” 

“well, he’s going to hit his head some time during the day at the rate he’s going right now,” you said, watching atsumu laugh and choke at the chocolate in his mouth. it was funny at first, until you noticed that atsumu kept on coughing.

“osamu,” you quickly tapped his twin. osamu turned around and immediately rushed over to his brother who was now turning a bright shade of red. 

“oh my god, were there peanuts in that chocolate?” you asked. atsumu let out a gasp and nodded his head.

“i’ll go get his meds,” osamu quickly jogged off only to be replaced by a very concerned Mr. President. “someone get him some water!” 

“i never thought atsumu-san was allergic to nuts. is it serious?” he asked, handing you his water bottle which you opened and quickly gave to atsumu who was now sitting down on the floor.

“well, it’s mostly rashes and an itchy throat but as long as he takes his medicine, he’ll be fine,” you shook your head. 

two allergy tablets, an apology from suna, and a long explanation later, atsumu was lying down in the nurse’s office with the swelling noticeably reduced. “unfortunately, he’d have to sit out the rest of the play so that the reaction completely subsides,” the nurse told you, osamu, and Mr. President. you sighed and regarded atsumu with hands on your hips.

“you thought they were chocolate-covered raisins, didn’t you?”

atsumu didn’t say anything except: “i’m sorry leo di caprio.”

“this is the absolute worst time for this to happen,” Mr. President sighed as he addressed your classmates backstage. “there’s only thirty minutes before showtime and our romeo is out of commission. anyone have any bright ideas?”

“does anyone else here vaguely know atsumu’s lines?” you asked around. “someone who read the script?” instead, you were met with silence. as much as you wanted for some miracle to happen and for the show to go on because you genuinely did want to play juliet, putting up a half-assed play with one of the two main characters gone wasn’t going to look good either.

you sucked in a deep breath, preparing yourself to make the call, but osamu, who had noticed your expression earlier, stepped forward. you looked at him with wide eyes and just caught him glance at you before addressing mr. president.

“i can step in for romeo.” 

“osamu...?” you asked. 

“i haven’t really read the script but i’ve heard atsumu rehearsing by himself often enough to pick up a few lines,” osamu rubbed the back of his head, already feeling nervous. 

“also, twin-sense,” suna piped up. “you know, your psychic connection between twins?”

osamu nodded his head slowly. “yes, that too.”

“alright, alright,” mr. president nodded his head. “well, i guess that’s better than nothing and osamu can fit into atsumu’s costume too. if you can, use these thirty minutes to read as much of the script as possible.” 

“got it,” osamu nodded. and with that, everyone resumed preparations and you were pulled into the dressing room to get your hair and make-up done. when you emerged, osamu was sitting on the floor against the far side of the backstage, bent over a copy of the script and muttering in concentration.

“hey,” you greeted, sitting down beside him. he was already dressed in his costume: a white, long-sleeved shirt with golden buttons and some tassels on the shoulders. his hair was also combed back with a few strands falling across his forehead.

“god, i can’t believe atsumu memorized all this shit,” osamu shook his head and looked up at you only to stop short. he had seen you about a million times in your juliet costume but with the make-up and your hair arranged so elegantly, you looked absolutely breath-taking.

“something wrong?”

“i... i’m just panicking about having to play romeo all of a sudden,” he blinked.

“i know. scary, isn’t it?” you nodded. “i... you didn’t have to though. i’m pretty sure everyone was ready to throw in the towel.” 

“and waste all my hard work painting sets?” osamu raised an eyebrow at you. “no way.” you tossed your head back and laughed.

“well, if you put it that way...” you nodded and smiled bravely. “the show will be fine. if you forget a line, just improvise. the most important thing is channeling the emotion.” 

“i think i can do that,” osamu smiled and reached a hand out to you. “to the best show ever?”

you grinned and shook his hand. “to the best show ever.”

...

the show was a complete disaster. as much as osamu did try to recite atsumu’s lines completely from memory, it was as if everyone was thrown off their game throughout the entire play. cues for special effects were forgotten (someone accidentally turned on a smoke machine during the first scene), props were misplaced (the actor for Tybalt was using a footlong hotdog against osamu’s prop sword), and there were more than a few times when someone missed their lines. at one point, you ended up reciting Team Rocket’s iconic spiel after the line ‘a rose by any other name is just as sweet.’ but, despite everything being a shitshow, it still ended up being overall entertaining. the audience laughed through most of the obvious fails and that caused the actors to loosen up just a bit. 

and it was osamu who ended up spearheading the comedic aspect of your ‘romeo and juliet’ play. from his dry, deadpan delivery of the very emotional lines, to his small inserts and side-comments about the play itself. you even had to stop yourself from laughing at times. but if you and atsumu were amazing at playing the scripted ‘romeo and juliet’, you and osamu were complete naturals when it came to improvising. 

“i don’t know if this is a success by conventional definitions,” Mr. President addressed everyone backstage as soon as the play was over. “but... we sure did make everyone out there laugh.” 

“and i consider that a win!” atsumu cheered beside you. he was looking much better, still with a bit of rashes though and his voice kind of heavy from the medicine. “kind of sad that i didn’t get to play romeo though,” he whispered at you.

“that’s alright. i channeled you in spirit,” osamu patted his twin’s shoulder.

“like hell ya did! i couldn’t believe ya used the dagger to kill yerself at the end,” atsumu argued.

“right?? i had to be all ‘oh romeo, you must have forgotten to use the poison you brought in your pocket!’” you recalled.

“i see dagger, i use dagger,” osamu reasoned. “wait, that’s ‘Macbeth’ isn’t it?”

“in a nutshell,” you shrugged.

“ugh, i’ve had enough of nuts for a day, don’t even mention it,” atsumu groaned, pushing away from the two of you and wandering off to the snack table that your classmates prepared.

“damn, i had more puns up my sleeve,” you sighed, watching him leave. 

“you’ll find a time to use them, don’t worry,” osamu reassured you. “in the meantime... do you want to, get out of here first? explore the rest of the cultural festival?” you felt your face flush but nodded nonetheless.

“i’m sure no one will notice the main characters of their cast go missing,” you grinned. “let’s get out of here, romeo.” 

when osamu meant ‘let’s check out the cultural festival’, he really meant buying a bunch of snacks from the stalls set up all around the school. but then again, that’s what he did all the time. soon enough, the two of you were sitting on the rooftop with your prized horde. 

“thank god i don’t have some weirdass nut allergy like tsumu. that’s definitely evidence that i got the stronger genes,” osamu said, biting into a crepe he just bought. “also the fact that he didn’t check that chocolate-covered nuts packet.” 

“i still feel sorry for him. he worked really hard to play romeo well,” you sighed. 

“hey, i tried to play my part seriously. well... sometimes.” 

“you did nail the whole ‘yearning for my love juliet’ part right,” you grinned, remembering the surprise at seeing the tenderness and longing on osamu’s face as he recited romeo’s lines about being in love with juliet. ‘well, that’s something for me to daydream about for the rest of my life you,’ you thought.

that was until osamu said “well, it’s good practice for when i actually confess to someone.” 

confess to someone.

‘does that mean, all this time? he’s liked someone?’ you felt your stomach drop. you’ve never known osamu to be expressive when it came to people he had feelings for. were you just ignoring all the signs? was--

“it’s you, idiot,” osamu sighed. 

“wait, what?” you looked at him with wide eyes. osamu sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“you know, i was thinking of a more suave way to say this but you looked like how you did earlier when you were supposed to be engaged to tybalt,” he chuckled. “so, i put two and two together for the first time. you’re the one i like, y/n.”

it was the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long, and yet the only thing you could come up with was “haha, cool.” 

in response, osamu stared at you long and hard before taking another bite out of his crepe. “i think your brain is fried,” he muttered through a mouthful of crepe.”

“hold on, hold on,” you held a finger up, finally coming back to your senses. “you had a crush on me and also the audacity to make me juliet and have your twin brother as romeo?”

“i thought you’d be really cool as juliet but i didn’t want to go through the work of being romeo,” osamu said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “obviously it backfired but--”

“that’s called karma, osamu,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “if you think i’m going to let you off easy i’m--” 

you were cut off by osamu’s lips meeting yours and the taste of whipped cream and strawberry on your tongue. your brain short-circuited, trying to think of a way to describe this situation other than ‘haha, cool’ again. osamu, sensing your brain waves, pulled you even closer with a hand on your cheek.

“are you going to let me off now?” he raised an eyebrow at you after you parted. you smirked.

“i’ll have to think about it.” 

“yeah?” osamu mumbled, his smirk matching yours. “what else do i need to do?” you leaned forward before taking a bite out of the crepe in his hands. you chewed while grinning at the surprised look on osamu’s face.

“now we’re even.”

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

[sugarbooger513]

Holding On (Chapter One)

I love writing OCs so much. This is the beginning to a fun JJK fic I had some ideas for. It will include spoilers and end up straying from the canon story. Please beware of that. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do <3

Mara belongs to @katgalle

Warnings: soft Gojo, mentions of guns, Gojo being... well, Gojo.

How long had it been exactly? Nine, maybe ten years? Nova blinks slowly before closing her eyes. It hadn't exactly hit her that she was back where she grew up. Maybe Tokyo hasn't changed much.

Sadly, she had changed a lot from that day.

She can still remember the laughter they would share. The simplest things would send them both into fits of hysteria. She hasn't looked at stupid cat videos the same since her second year of high school.

"Nova? Are you asleep?" "If you thought I was asleep," Nova sighs softly, "why would you ask?" When she peeks her eyes open, Mara smiles sweetly. "Ah, just thought I would be a bit polite. How are you feeling about moving back?" Nova's nose scrunches slightly. "It hasn't hit me yet."

Nova knows that Mara can read her better than she lets on. It's the curse of being twins.

"What about you? We've been in Osaka quite a while now." "Well, I can't say I'll miss it. I don't care where we go. It's just nice still being beside you." Nova can't help but smile softly. Truly, Mara has been there when she had no obligation to be.

When Nova's phone rings, she answers it with a sigh. "We should be pulling into the stop within the next ten minutes or so, Aunt Cammie." "Oh, good! I can't wait to see you two again!"

That's one of two reasons Nova can think it's a good thing to move back home. Aunt Cammie gave up her entire life to move to Japan in order to raise the twins. She could have allowed them to go into foster care, but she didn't. She could have forced them to move back to America with her and leave behind everything they ever knew, but she didn't.

Shortly before the twins went into high school, both of their parents were killed by a special grade curse. The worst part was that their mother wasn't even a Jujutsu sorcerer. She just happened to be around their father when it attacked.

"We'll see you in a few. Love you." "Love you too, sweet pea." When she lowers her phone, Mara places a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder. "She's been texting me non stop since we got on the bus." "Yeah, I kinda figured she would. She's excited to have us home."

"You called it home, Nova." "I'm trying to get over what happened. I really am. It just hurts." Mara leans over, resting her head comfortably on her twin's shoulder. "You're allowed to grieve as long as you need to, sis."

They stay quiet for the rest of the bus ride, casually leaning against one another. When it finally comes to a stop, the first thing they see from the window is their Aunt's flaming red hair, which both of them somehow inherited.

Mara races off the bus, grabbing her suitcases on the way, while Nova takes her time making sure everything was taken off the bus. Before walking off, she leaves the driver a tip.

"Nova!" Aunt Cammie engulfs her niece in a tight hug full of love. Nova drops her bags so she can return it. "I missed you girls so much. It's been so long." "I now, Aunt Cammie, but we're here now." She places both of her hands on Nova's face to stare lovingly into the eyes that match her dear sister's.

"You both still look so much like your mother." "Somehow we got your fiery hair though." Mara giggles and makes a point by swishing her flaming red hair around. Aunt Cammie gives both girls a kiss on the cheek before she starts helping them load her car.

"Your rooms are set up just like they used to be, right next to each other. I put some new sheets and blankets on the beds, new carpets are in the rooms, and- " "Aunt Cammie," Nova stops her aunt's ranting, "we still plan on getting out own place. For Christ's sake, we're twenty-seven."

Cammie's smile makes both girls feel a bit lighter. "I know, baby. I don't expect you two to stay long, but I want you to know that you will always have a home with me. I don't care what age you are."

Mara spends the entire ride singing her head off with Aunt Cammie in the front. Nova's phone starts exploding with texts from her second reason for coming back.

'I can't believe you're back! We have to catch up ASAP! Coffee later?' 'I didn't take you as a coffee person, but that sounds amazing.' 'Really, I'm not. The shit makes me feel like some old geezer, but I remember how you would get some every morning before school. Is your sister going to hang out with us?' 'Maybe? It'll depend on how well she can compose herself. I'm not sure how much she knows about you now.'

"We're home! Nova, what are you doing?" "Just texting a friend. He wants to hang out today, so we're making plans." Aunt Cammie grins like the she-devil she can be. "Really? I'm so glad!"

Mara had already made her way out of the car to start unpacking, so Nova does her best to catch up, but the twin is just too excited to be back home and races ahead of her into the house. "Well," Cammie rubs the back of her neck, "that probably isn't good." "What did you do?"

"Uhh, well, your friend had texted me this morning and asked if he could hide out here so he could greet you as soon as you got back.." Nova's eyes widen in shock. "It.. wouldn't happen to be the friend from high school, would it?" Cammie laughs a bit awkwardly. "The white haired boy.. that Mara always had that massive crush on..?" Nova drops her bags and races into the house without another thought.

Once she makes it inside, she sees Mara staring, slightly confused as the tall man towers beside her. "Why are you in my aunt's house, dude?" "Huh, you aren't running from me? Does that mean you're over that high school crush?" To Nova's own surprise, Mara only tilts her head. "Who are you again?"

The sound of that question is enough to make Nova let out a snort of laughter. The sound catches Gojo's attention, and he smiles brightly. "There's the woman I wanted to see." Gojo slips past Mara with a soft pat on the head.

Nova doesn't really expect Gojo to hug her, but he puts his infinity down just to wrap his long arms around her. Her head rests just below his shoulders. "Gojo," she laughs and places her arms around his lanky body, "I've missed you so much." "I've missed you, too. I see you haven't gotten any taller." "And I see you've grown even more, fucking string bean." He lets out a small chuckle as he pulls away from her.

"Sorry about the surprise. I just wanted to see you." "No, I appreciate it a lot. It's nice knowing you still care." Gojo's gorgeous blue eyes seem to sparkle behind his sunglasses. "Of course I do. Keeping in touch for nine years would make most people bored out of their minds, but I'm not like any other person."

Despite him trying to be cocky, he has a point. Anyone else she went to school with stopped talking to her less than a year after she moved. While they didn't talk daily, Gojo always sent her random texts throughout the week.

"I know, Gojo. Trust me," she walks forward and lays her head back on him, "I know. I'm so glad to have you back." His long fingers rake through her red curls effortlessly. "I'm right here, Nova. I'll be here as long as you need me to be."

"I didn't get to say good morning to you, Satoru! It's nice to see you again." Gojo chuckles and gives aunt Cammie a quick hug. "I should visit more often, work just keeps me away." "Well," she smacks his arm softly, "I hope Nova will entice you to come over more." "Of course, Aunt Cammie."

"Nova, love," Gojo leans to whisper in her ear, "tell Mara to put the gun away." "Mara! You know Gojo!" Mara scoffs slightly. "Can't believe I didn't recognize him. Sorry, I don't well to men showing up form nowhere." "Technically," Gojo turns to face her, "you showed up here. I've been here for at least an hour." "I still have a gun out. DO you want to continue this argument?"

He smirks, suddenly leaning down close enough that Nova can see his lips brush against her ear. Mara's eyes widen in shock as he chuckles. "Go ahead, sweetie. I want you to do it."

Nova can't help but let a small fit of laughter escape her, which earns her the look of all death looks. "Anyways," Gojo leans back up and turns to walk out the door, "I'm gonna pull my car around. I owe you a coffee date. Don't keep me waiting, baby."

Once he shuts the front door behind him, Nova sighs softly. "One of these days I'm going to- Holy shit, Mara! Your face is so fucking red!" Mara hides her now tomato colored face in her hands with a small squeal.

"I know it is! Damn it, I thought I was over his dumb ass!" Nova rubs the back of her neck. "Well, you didn't run from him this time." "Oh, I wanted to. I really wanted to, but instead I summoned my fucking glock!"

Aunt Cammie takes over calming Mara down while Nova rushes off with a bag to change. Opening her old bedroom door hits her with a wave of nostalgia. It really is how she left it.

On the bed is a basket filled with all kinds of goodies from Aunt Cammie. She even remembered that Nova's favorite animal is a buffalo, and included a cute stuffed one.

However, when she starts digging through the basket, she notices a few pictures that she printed off.

The first is one of Aunt Cammie, Mara, and herself. It had to have been long before the girls' parents passed away. Actually, if she remembers correctly, it's form the first time they met Aunt Cammie on a trip to America. They were no older than four.

The second picture is one of the girls getting accepted to Jujutsu Tech. Aunt Cammie must have taken the picture because the girls were busy being hugged to near death by their parents.

The third one is form her graduation. Gojo had graduated the year before she did, and he made it to her graduation when he wasn't sure he would be able to. In this picture, he has his arms around her and his face buried in her red curls. Truly, he was the only non family member she ever went to after her second year.

The last one has a note attached to it. She places it aside to stare at the picture. It had to be from her first year of high school. She was sitting on a pier, and next to her was a boy. His raven colored hair was pulled into a man bun. Behind their backs, his hand was on top of hers, almost enclosing the entire thing.

Thinking of that day brings tears to her eyes. She places it on her bedside table to grab the letter.

Nova baby,

I doubt this picture will bring you a real smile, but when I saw it in your box of memories I had to pull it out. No matter what life looks like now for him, or even for you, the two of you shared something special. Despite him only being a stepping stone in your life, he helped shape you into the strong woman you are today. Don't think about who he became because that isn't the same boy you found your happiness in. Think of the boy who made it a point to buy you flowers once a week before school, the boy who always asked me permission to take you to dinner, the boy who you and Gojo spent hours with daily. Think of the boy who loved everything about you. I love you babygirl, and I know that your journey in life has just begun.

Aunt Cammie

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 9

GENRE | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

PAIRING | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

WORDS | 13.5k (oops)

SUMMARY | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

WARNINGS | Swearing. Angggssstttt. Explicit smut. Penetrative sex. Oral sex (female receiving). 

PARTS | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • More Coming Soon

NOTE | This one was so hard to write! Thank you as always for your patience 💕 I’ll be waiting 24 hours to answer any asks you peaches send in so as not to spoil anything for other readers, but please let me know what you think! Also let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

TAGS | @day6grams, @heyheydee7, @hhhongseok, @jinjinmyworld, @kkxn0​, @precious-seungwooya​, @seraplantery​, @the-deviant-world​, @yeosang-ponytail​

You wake up in the morning in a bed that’s clearly not your own and a smile comes to your lips when you remember everything that happened last night. You never imagined that you’d have such a crazy night with Yanan and Changgu, but you don’t regret it for one second. You give yourself a moment to stretch before climbing out of Changgu’s bed, noticing the mellow soreness in your muscles.

You slip on your clothes from the party and head out to the common area of the apartment, where Yanan and Changgu are both hard at work in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song, still feeling satisfied from last night.

Both boys turn around and smile at you. Yanan coos, “Morning, sweetheart.”

The pet name sends a tingle through you.

Changgu whisks something in a bowl as he greets you. “I was just about to make some scrambled eggs. Want some?”

“Yes, please.” You smile warmly and plop yourself down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

Yanan prepares a second cup of coffee and places it in front of you. “You’re in awfully high spirits this morning.”

“Yeah, thank you for that,” you raise an eyebrow as you blow on the top of your steaming coffee. Yanan gives you a flirty grin before drinking his own coffee and then peeling off to grab some fresh fruit from the refrigerator. 

Changgu pours the eggs into a frying pan and starts cooking up your breakfast. “Glad to hear you had fun last night. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“It was… great.” There are a million stronger adjectives you could use, such as amazing, incredible, magical, mind-blowing… but you don’t want to boost their egos too much. “Do you guys do this often?”

Changgu shrugs. “It’s sort of an occasional thing. Our tastes in women don’t always overlap, unfortunately. And even if we find someone we’re both interested in, she might not be interested in both of us.”

You hum and nod. It definitely doesn’t seem like something that could just magically fall into place super frequently. But based off of last night, you’re willing to bet that both boys are impressive lovers even on their own. They were each so attentive and responsive, and the amount of aftercare you received when you finally wrapped up the night made the whole night absolutely heavenly.

“So _____,” Yanan leans over the island, pushing a bowl of fruit your way. “I meant to ask last night, but you’re old enough to come out with us to Andy’s next time, right?”

You frown slightly. “Not quite. I just turned twenty, so I technically have another year. Although I do have a fake ID that works just fine as long as there’s no one there to call me out on it.”

He scoffs, clearly remembering the run-in with Professor Yang that ruined the night last time you went out with them. “Yeah, Hongseok really knows how to ruin a good time, doesn’t he?”

“Why do you insist on calling him by his first name?” It catches you off guard every time, especially because the professor has been so explicit about his preferences when it comes to the way students address him. You’re willing to bet that, based on the way he and Yanan interacted and the fact that Yanan uses his first name, they must know each other outside of school. “Do you have something against him?”

Yanan takes a long sip of his coffee before responding. “Perhaps I do. But I’ll tell you this, he sure as hell started it.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Changgu pipes up as he transfers the eggs to a plate. “That’s a pretty big can of worms you’re trying to open.”

“Well you can’t just say something like that and expect me not to be curious! Now I need to know.”

Yanan pulls up a stool. “I went to a different school for a year and a half before transferring here. Washington University.”

You immediately recognize the university as being the most prestigious school in the city. It’s stupid expensive, and it’s really hard to get in. “You went to Washington?”

He nods. “And so did Hongseok. I met him there while he was getting his Masters degree. We both worked in the Mathematics Department office.” Yanan bites down onto a strawberry. “We got along okay, but I wouldn’t say we were ever friends. Our work schedules occasionally overlapped and we were cordial with each other. But one day he heard me bragging to a friend about how I’d slept with my Economics professor to boost my grade. Business school wasn’t for me, so I did what I could to make it a little easier.”

Your eyes widen and you’re struck with something that feels kind of like… panic? “You slept with your professor?”

“I did,” he responds proudly. “And then Hongseok turned me in to the Dean. She got fired and I lost all of my scholarship money, so I transferred. What are the odds that he’d end up over here too?” He chuckles darkly.

Yanan interrupts your train of thought. “I think he was just pissed because he worked so hard and he didn’t think it was fair that I was trying to take the easy way out. To that, I say that nothing in life is fair and he needs to get over himself.”

You try to seem as natural as possible despite the slight discomfort seeping into your bones. “Oh man, I can’t believe you had to transfer because of all that. That basically changed your whole future, right?”

“It did, but I’m not terribly torn up about it.” Yanan dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “I had fun with my professor, but I’ve enjoyed my time at this school more than I ever did at Washington. It might be less prestigious, and I might be getting a music degree instead of a business degree, but I didn’t ever have much interest in business anyway.”

You nod slowly, at least glad to hear that Yanan’s doing okay. “You still seem to have a bit of a grudge towards Professor Yang, though.”

“That I do. Not just because he turned me in, though. I don’t particularly like the way he looks down on me all the time. He’s got a real ego problem.”

“You’ve got that right,” you murmur, thinking about the way Professor Yang first confronted you at the beginning of the year, how he assumed you must have been obsessively crushing on him to the point of intentionally seducing him at the wedding. He does seem to be quite a bit self-absorbed.

Changgu speaks up. “What about you, _____? It seemed like you and Professor Yang were pretty familiar with each other.”

And just like that, your ease gives way to mild anxiety. “Oh, I’m just in his class.” You try to brush it off.

Changgu nods, but you’re not really sure that he believes you. He serves you your eggs. “You know, I followed the two of you outside when he insisted on sending you home. Things between you seemed… heated.”

“Mm,” you hum, letting yourself take a bite of your eggs as you scramble to come up with an excuse. “It was just all of the adrenaline from the surprise performance I had to give, you know. And it’s easy to just return his fire with fire, especially because, you know, he’s messed up my grades a few times and I’ve had to have multiple talks with him about that, so like, there’s just tension, you know, but it’s not really a big deal or anything...” Like an idiot you ramble and over-share, just like you always do when you’re put on the spot.

“I see.” Changgu raises an eyebrow.

Yanan’s brow furrows as he tries to comprehend the beans you just spilled. “You’re telling me that Hongseok, the mathematical genius, messed up your grades?”

“Yeah, it’s so stupid, right? I don’t know what his deal is.” You force out an awkward laugh and follow it with a lie to try to soften the damage you’ve done. “It happened with my friend, too... I think he must just get distracted while he’s grading or something. Who knows?”

Yanan seems unwilling to let it go as he presses, “He boosts your grades?”

You nod, completely incapable of thinking through actions or words before letting them happen. “Ah, yeah. But it’s kind of a mix, I guess.”

And then the shittiest grin comes to Yanan’s lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me he’s got a thing for you.”

It’s such an easy conclusion to come to, and you led him right to it. Now you’re totally frozen and unsure of how to respond. How are you supposed to answer that?

Changgu comes to your rescue, placing a hand on Yanan’s shoulder as he speaks. “Even if he does, it’s not her fault, and she doesn’t seem particularly comfortable with all of this, so why don’t we let it go? It’s all speculation, anyway.”

“Of course.” Yanan nods curtly, and an uncomfortable silence falls between the three of you.

The irony of this whole situation is not lost on you. If anything happens between you and Professor Yang, he’d be nothing less than a hypocrite now that you know he got Yanan in trouble for the same behavior. And if Yanan were to ever hear about it, you’re not confident that any interest he has in you would overshadow the opportunity for revenge. You’re just collateral damage in his feud with Professor Yang. 

Getting close to these boys might be more dangerous than you originally thought. 

Monday night rolls around, and you know you should be getting ready to head out for R&B ensemble… but instead you just anxiously pace through your living room, completely unsure if you can work up the courage to see Kino tonight.

You haven’t said a word to each other since your birthday party. He hasn’t even texted to indicate he wanted to walk with you to practice tonight, and you can’t say you blame him. You were kind of a huge dick to him after you kissed. You weren’t really in a good frame of mind to actually talk it through with him at the party, but the longer you wait to talk to him, the less of an excuse you have. You’re completely sober now, and you were yesterday, too. He’s one of your best friends - there’s no reason why you can’t talk to him about this. 

Really you know it’s because, no matter how close you are with him, you’re absolutely terrified about how badly the conversation could go.

You care about Kino so much. You honest-to-God love the kid. But do you care about him romantically? 

You pull your phone out and write out a quick text to Wooseok: Not feeling well, so I’m going to rest tonight. Can you tell teach I’m going to miss practice?

You just can’t work up the nerve to go in tonight.

Wooseok responds: No prob. U need anything?

You: No I’m ok, thank you though.

Wooseok: K. Rest up, short stuff.

Dropping your phone onto the couch, you resort to just jumping up and down because you’re so full of nervous energy. You don’t even want to start thinking about everything that’s transpired between you and Wooseok on top of your situation with Kino. He also hasn’t said much to you since the party, and you can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that you ditched your own party to bang Yanan and Changgu.

That shouldn’t have bothered him since you agreed to only be friends, and it’s definitely not a decision you regret making. That night with the two seniors was incredible, even if the morning after took a turn for the worse.

Inevitably, your mind returns to Kino. You let out a low groan and burst into the bedroom where Nailah has been studying.

“Nailahhhhh,” you groan. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nailah holds up a finger and continues reading, and you just stand there jittering in silence while you wait for her to finish. After a solid thirty seconds that feels like five minutes, she snaps her textbook shut and looks up at you. “What’s wrong, boo?” 

“I have to talk to Kino but I don’t want to.”

“About what? The fact that you guys made out?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I haven’t talked to him since the party and I feel awful about it and I know that we need to just have a conversation but I’m terrified about what’ll happen and I honestly don’t even know how I feel?” Words come out of you stupidly fast as you try to express everything that you’re feeling.

She checks her phone, presumably to see what time it is. “Don’t you usually have a class tonight?”

“R&B Ensemble. I’m skipping. Not ready to see Kino yet.”

Nailah gives you a once-over, gets up from her bed, and starts digging through her dresser drawers. “You’ve got too much energy. Let’s go to the gym and work this out.”

“The gym?” Your mind briefly flashes back to the last time you went to the gym with her and you crossed paths with Professor Yang. That’s… potentially less of a problem right now. Hell, seeing Professor Yang working out would probably be a welcome distraction from everything with Kino. So what if he’s there? Besides, Nailah’s right - it would be nice to do something with all of this energy you’ve got right now. “Okay, yeah. Good idea.”

Nailah sits you down at the bicep curl machine and she squats in front of you while you try to do a few reps. “So talk to me about what happened. I know what I saw, but I want to hear it from you.”

You let out a strained exhale as you pull the handles up towards your chest. “I went out for some air, and Kino came out, and we were dancing to the music and I told him I love him.”

“What?” Her eyes widen.

“I do, though!” You pull up again. “Like the same way I love you, you know? And I think he took it to be something romantic, and then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.”

“Did you like it?”

Pull. “I did. He’s a good kisser.”

“But you’re conflicted.”

“Yeah.” Pull. “Because I don’t know if I like him that way. And I think he might like me that way. And what if I decide that I don’t like him that way, and then it ruins our friendship?”

“Is there a chance you might like him that way?”

You drop the handles. Is there? You think about all of the times you’ve hung out in practice rooms, all of the notes you send each other during class. And then you think about the dance showcase, the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours, the press of his lips as he kissed your forehead that night. It’s undeniable that your heart beats a little faster as you think about him. “Shit. Maybe?”

“Okay.” Nailah nods. “Maybe isn’t a great answer.”

“I know,” you grumble. “That doesn’t give me any kind of clarity.”

“So just imagine that you talk to him about the kiss, and he tells you he likes you and he might even be interested in dating. How does that make you feel?” Nailah asks, and then she gestures to the machine to encourage you to keep going.

You pull up again. “I feel overwhelmed.”

“Now imagine that instead, he says that he was confused and he didn’t really mean it. He wants to stay friends. How does that make you feel?”

“...less overwhelmed.”

“That says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“But what if I’m only overwhelmed because it’s different, not because I dislike it?” Pull harder. “What if I’m less overwhelmed by staying friends just because that’s what I’m used to?”

“Well that’s something you’re going to have to examine. I don’t have the answer to that.” Nailah stands, crossing her arms over her chest.

You huff loudly, letting go of the bar again. “Why is this so difficult?”

“Are you telling me that you’re surprised that you don’t know what you want? Sweetie, indecision is your middle name,” she teases. “You made out with Kino and then slept with two other guys all in the same night. And don’t even get me started on whatever the hell is going on between you and that Wooseok kid.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. “What do you mean? Why are you bringing up Wooseok?”

“I’m not dumb, _____. You’ve obviously got something going on with him. So ‘fess up.”

“Can I switch machines first?”

Nailah stands and gestures for you to come along. You sit side by side at two leg press machines, and you try not to feel intimidated by the amount of weight she sets on her machine. Once you’re both settled in, she looks over at you expectantly.

“So…” You try to figure out where to start, and then you decide you just need to dish the whole story. Besides, he’s already told Yuto about all of it, so you should get to have a confidante, too. “I offered to tutor him in music theory because he was struggling, and it was totally fine. Then one night he invited me over to his place when I was feeling particularly… feisty… and we got drunk and made out.”

“Ah, the Queen of Bad Decisions strikes again.” Nailah chuckles. “Continue.”

Her comment makes you roll your eyes, but it feels good that she’s so lighthearted about it. “So then we talked about it later and decided that we both would be okay with, like, occasionally hooking up in a totally casual way.”

She nods slowly. “You know, if I remember correctly, I believe I actually suggested you try hooking up with him, didn’t I?”

“Sure did,” you acknowledge with a flat tone, remembering the lunchtime conversation you had that feels like forever ago.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Maybe like… a month and a half?”

“Okay, okay.” Nailah just keeps nodding. “Obviously I approve, but it’s also important that you feel comfortable with your choices and you’ve got a lot going on right now.”

It feels good to get all of this off of your chest. So good, in fact, that you contemplate filling her in on everything regarding Yanan and Professor Yang as well. But at this point nothing is happening between you and him, so there’s really no reason to talk about it. “You’re right. There’s just… a lot to think about.”

“Maybe Thanksgiving break will be good for you. You can head home, spend some time with your family, and avoid all of these boys for a long weekend. That might give you the time you need to clear your head and figure out what you want.” She pushes the machine with her legs, thigh muscles impressively bulging.

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.” You really are looking forward to heading home in a few days. It’ll be so nice to see Minseo again and get a break from all of the drama you’ve managed to create for yourself. “Can we be done here, now? You know I can’t match your stamina.”

Nailah laughs and gives one last push. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s head home.”

Even though working out with Nailah and talking it over with her helps you feel a little more at ease, it still doesn’t prepare you for the phone call you receive when you’re back at the apartment. 

Your phone lights up as it vibrates, the name City Boy pulling up on the screen.

“Nailah, he’s calling me.” You panic.

“Well answer it.” Nailah encourages you. “Now’s as good a time as any to talk it out.”

You almost let it go to voicemail, but at the last second you swipe to answer. Awkwardly, you say, “Heyyy! Kino, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey, _____.” He sounds incredibly mellow. “Are you feeling alright? Wooseok said you’re sick.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… just had a headache, that’s all.” You rub your forehead as you try to figure out what to tell him, and you duck into the bedroom to have a private conversation. “Thanks for checking in on me, though.”

“Of course.” Pause. “Um, so you’re probably home right now, right?”

“Mhm. Just resting,” you lie.

“Flash your light for me. I’m in my room, too.”

You do as he asks, and then you sit on the floor by your floor-to-ceiling window and look for his signal. Once you spot his room, you say, “Found you.”

Kino waves gently up at you, and you wave back. Then he clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. “So I guess the reason I actually called is because I kind of had the feeling you might be avoiding me, and I know it’s not even a big deal because it’s only been, like, two days that we haven’t talked, and it’s totally understandable that you might want some space, but I just felt so bad that you didn’t come to rehearsal tonight and I don’t want you to avoid things you love because of me.”

You wait until he gets it all off of his chest, sitting quietly while you try to figure out how to respond. 

“I’m really sorry, _____. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that when we were both kind of out of it. And now I’m just terrified that I messed up so badly that I’m going to lose you completely, and I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“Kino…” 

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

You can hear the reservation in his voice. This is terrifying territory for both of you. You take a deep breath and respond as honestly as you can. “I don’t know. I care about you a lot, but I’m not sure yet if any of it is romantic.” He doesn’t respond right away, so you ask, “What about you? Do you have feelings for me?”

Kino sighs quietly. “Actually, I don’t know, either. I might. But if that’s not what you want, I can absolutely squash that so we can keep being friends. That’s the most important thing to me.”

You sit quietly for a moment. “I think I need time. I’ve just never really thought about you that way, but then after you kissed me… I don’t know. I’m really sorry that I’m so confused by all of this. I really wish I could give you a straight answer.”

“It’s okay.” Kino’s voice is warm. “You don’t have to push yourself in one direction or the other. We can just sit on it for a little bit, and maybe talk about it after break once you’ve had some time to think?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond softly, grateful that he’s not pushing you for an answer one way or the other.

“But I guess one thing I’d like to know now is, are we still friends?” 

“Yes! Of course we are,” you respond without hesitation. “No matter what we decide, we’ll stay friends at the very least.”

“Okay good.” He smiles up at you from his window. “You’re going home for break, right?”

“Mhm, I’m taking the train out on Wednesday night,” you say. “What about you? Are you visiting your family?”

“Yeah. I don’t really want to, though.”

Based on past conversations with Kino, and the emotional performance he choreographed for the showcase, you’ve pieced together how he doesn’t have a great relationship with his parents. But you’ve never gotten the full story. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kino sighs. “It’s just hard to be around my parents. My mom is emotionally abusive and my dad doesn’t do anything to stop it. If I were an only child, there’s no way in hell I’d go back there for Thanksgiving. But I miss my sisters and I need to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. I think your sisters are really lucky to have a brother like you.”

“Thanks. I feel guilty enough that I even went to college in the first place, and I know I don’t visit home as often as I should. It was easier for me to protect my siblings when I still lived there, but I was also at my wit’s end. I can’t tell you how much better I’ve felt since starting college, as long as you don’t count the guilt of abandoning my siblings.”

“You have to look out for yourself, too, though. If you had stayed home and taken all the blows, what kind of life would you be making for yourself? If your sisters are anything like you, then I know they’re kind-hearted and strong, and they’ll make it out of the house too when it’s their turn.”

Kino sniffs, and you wonder if he’s crying. He’s just far enough away that it’s hard to tell. “You’re right.”

“You should invite your sisters to hang out with us sometime. We could all go do karaoke together or something.”

“I’m sure they’d love that! That would be really fun.” Kino sounds a little lighter now. “Thanks, _____. I’ve been so stressed about my family situation since I know I’m going home this week, and talking to you really helps me feel better.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“I need to get going, but there was actually one more thing I wanted to ask you about.”

“Go for it.”

“Can you be honest with me about Wooseok? You two just got so close so fast, and it’s not like that’s a problem or anything, but… do you like him? Are you two a thing? Because I’ve been suspicious for a while and I think knowing if there’s something going on between you two will help me figure out what I’m feeling.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Why are you so afraid to be honest with him about it? At this point you’ve denied it quite a few times around him, and it sounds like he doesn’t fully believe you. So you really have no choice but to tell him the truth. 

He continues. “Do you remember the night you got drunk with him and then crashed at my place? You told me about what you two did, and I just… I want to know if it happened again.”

You swallow hard, and then spit it out. “We’re just friends, but we’ve slept together a few times.”

“Ah.” Kino sounds disappointed. “And you don’t have any feelings for him?”

“I don’t.” You adamantly respond, but even as you say the words you’re not positive they’re the truth. So you say, “I mean, I don’t think I do.”

“Got it. Well thank you for telling me. I have to get going though, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You’re surprised by how abruptly he excuses himself from the conversation, but you don’t really feel like you’re in a place to ask him to stay. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, and you can tell that must have hurt him. You had no choice but to be honest, because it’s time you start facing your messes - even if it creates new ones in the process. But as you flop back onto your bed, you realize that Kino’s response speaks volumes about how he actually feels about you.

Anxious, you check the time on your phone again. Shinhye should be here by now, but she’s nowhere to be seen. It’s just you at the bus stop. You decide to call her just to make sure she’s actually coming.

She answers on the third ring. “Hey, _____…”

“Shinhye, are you coming? We’re going to be so late to Professor Yang’s exhibit.” You bounce on the balls of your feet as if that will help keep you warm.

“I don’t think I can make it, actually, I think I’m coming down with something. I just really don’t feel well.”

“Oh no! I’m sorry,” you pout. “That sucks. Well get lots of rest then, okay?”

“I will.” Shinhye sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I just, like, took a nap and I thought that I set an alarm, but apparently I didn’t.”

“It’s totally okay. I’ll see if someone else can go with me. You just get better.”

“I’ll do my best,” she chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

You hang up and frown. You were really hoping she’d come with you today. Professor Yang had announced in class this morning that he’s got an exhibit tonight, and anyone who attended would get extra credit for the class. You’re genuinely interested in seeing more of the instruments he’s made, so you’re excited to go. You just don’t know if you want to go alone.

You could call Kino, since he’s usually your go-to guy whenever you need a companion, but you still feel weird about the way the conversation ended last night. It would probably be awkward for the two of you to make the trip together.

And there’s Wooseok… Maybe you should give him a ring. Things have also been a little off with him since the party, but it feels easier to ignore that weirdness than the tension between you and Kino. You go ahead and give him a call.

“_____! Heyyyy,” Wooseok drawls. “I miss you.”

“You miss me?” You laugh quietly, immediately recognizing the boozed-up drawl of his voice. “Or are you just drunk?”

He gasps. “How did you know?”

“Wooseok, it’s a Tuesday night. What are you doing getting hammered?”

“My morning class tomorrow got canceled because of TURKEY DAY WOOOOOOOO- OH SHIT-”

You hear a crash of glass, and your eyes widen. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totallyyyy- totally fine. It’s fine. I just dropped my cup, but it’s fine. I was talking to you so I got distracted.”

“Is Minho there?”

“No, he went home already. Can you come over? I wanna see you.”

“I can’t right now, I have somewhere to be. But if you put the alcohol away and just drink water for the rest of the night, I think I can come over later.”

“Yes, ma’am. Gotta drink that water. I can do that.” 

“Good,” you laugh. “Be careful, okay? And don’t try to pick up the broken glass with your hands. Just sweep it off to the side and we’ll clean it up later.”

“Why do you sound like my mom?” 

“Because that’s what you need right now,” you laugh. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. You’re great. Bye.”

You hang up. That was a bust. After a few minutes you still can’t think of anyone else you’d want to invite. But then the bus arrives and you decide that you’d rather just be on your way than try to find another person to come with.

It’s a long ride, and you’re later than you wanted to be. By the time you arrive, you pass a few other students from your class on their way out. Actually, the whole place looks pretty empty. Did you miss it?

The door is unlocked, so you let yourself in, the little bells on the handle jingling to signal your arrival. In a matter of seconds, Professor Yang’s head pops out from around a corner.

“Hey, we’re actually clo… oh, hi.” When he sees you, his eyes widen a little, made all the more obvious by the round frames that sit atop his nose. You've never seen him in glasses before, and it's a good look for him. But he could pull off literally anything, so you’re not surprised.

Still, you frown, feeling like you really wasted your time hauling ass the whole way up to the north side just to arrive as soon as it's ending. You should have just gotten on the earlier bus instead of waiting for Shinhye. “Shit, I knew I was running late, but I didn’t think I was going to miss the whole thing.”

Professor Yang steps out into the exhibit room, pulling back the sleeves of his deep blue sweater. “It’s okay, I’m not going to kick you out.” 

“It sounded like you were about to,” you joke, trying to make light of the situation.

“Yeah, but you’re…” Professor Yang looks for a brief moment like he’s having difficulty deciding how to qualify you. “...my student.”

“I am,” you respond awkwardly. “Um, I know you were going to give us extra credit for being here, but you don’t have to do that since it's clearly over.”

He glances at the watch on his wrist. “If you let me show you around and tell you about some of the instruments for, like, fifteen minutes, I can give you credit.”

“That sounds good to me." You smile, but unfortunately your stupid ass can't just leave it there. You tack on, "Teach me, Professor.” And you laugh awkwardly, immediately regretting everything.

He chuckles, possibly out of politeness, and leads you to the first guitar on display. “You’re already familiar with this one. She’s the one I keep in my office.”

“I remember,” you admire the gorgeous instrument as you slip your coat off, already getting warm now that you're indoors. “She’s the reason why I was so excited to see what else you’ve built.”

“She’s one of my best, so don’t be too disappointed in the others,” he laughs.

As he walks through the exhibit with you, he speaks in detail about each of his creations. He explains to you how he decides what type of wood to work with, and his process for cutting and shaping the instruments. His collection is mostly guitars - some twelve-strings and classical guitars included - as well as ukuleles and mandolins. Although he suggested he’d only take up fifteen minutes of your time, he speaks with you about his instruments for well over an hour, and you soak up all of the information he’s willing to share with you. 

During your tour, you notice more than a few empty instrument stands. “Why are some missing?”

“I sold them,” he explains. “Part of the purpose of this exhibit was to sell some of the instruments I’ve built, and the other part was to get commissions. I was successful in both parts.”

“That’s amazing! Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He beams. “I’m eager to start working on the new projects.”

“Where do you do your building? Do you have all the tools at home?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not. I rent a workshop space. Or if I’m able, I’ll try to do some work in the shop we use for class.” With another glance at his watch, he takes a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry for talking your ear off. It’s getting late so I should really start getting packed up.”

“Oh, it’s like over over?”

“Yeah, tonight was the last of two nights. So I have to clean up, close up, and get the keys back to the shop owner first thing tomorrow morning.”

Without thinking, you offer, “I can help."

“Nonsense. I won’t make you do that.”

“You have a lot of instruments, it’ll be a lot faster if you just let me help. I don’t mind it. Honestly.”

He surveys you, angling his body directly at you for the first time all night - not that you're hyper-aware of his body language or anything. “Alright. Let’s go get the cases.”

You bring the custom-made soft cases from the back out into the exhibit space. He has them organized well, so it’s easy to find which instruments belong in which cases. In no time, you’ve got them all cased up and ready to go.

Carrying a few instruments at a time, you walk with him through the back door to the small parking lot - only three spaces available behind the building. He walks up to the dinkiest little Nissan and manually unlocks the front door, pulling a lever on the floor to pop open the trunk.

“Wow,” you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t expect you to drive such an old-looking car.”

“Yeah, I’ve had this thing for forever. I have other more important things to put my money towards.” He lifts one of the guitars he holds, making it clear that his luthier hobby preoccupies most of his funds. 

Together, you make a few trips to grab all of the instruments and load up his car, carefully placing each instrument into the trunk and back seat. Once he’s packed, you check your phone for the next bus time. The next bus isn’t for half an hour, and you frown. The damn thing is always running late anyway, so you know it’ll take much longer than thirty minutes.

“How are you getting home?” He asks, as if reading your mind.

“The bus. It’s not too far from here. I should probably head out, actually. Don’t want to miss it.” Even though you know the bus won’t show up for a while, you intentionally excuse yourself with a lie. It’s best that you just head on out.

Professor Yang checks his trusty watch yet again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Your eyes widen. That’s the complete opposite of what should happen right now. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you. I take the bus all the time and it’s really not a big deal. Plus it drops off right across from my dorm so it’s actually really convenient for me.”

He shakes his head, unwilling to accept it. “It’s late, it’s cold out, and this isn’t a great neighborhood. Even if it were warmer out, I still couldn’t let you stand around out here by yourself.”

You’re hesitant to accept, although a car ride does sound pretty nice. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He nods confidently. “You’ve shown that you can be mature about our relationship, so I think this is something we can both comfortably handle.”

It’s a weird compliment, but you’ll take it. You really have been trying hard to just let things be normal between the two of you, and it seems to be going okay. And then you have an idea - as in an attempt to prove just how normal everything is, you ask him, “Do you need extra hands to help unload at your place? You’ll have to make a million trips by yourself. Since we’re... okay with each other and everything, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

He takes a moment to think. “I suppose it would be helpful.”

“Cool. We’ll just unload and then I can probably catch a bus from there. Maybe a taxi if you’re close enough to downtown that it won’t cost me a fortune.” 

“I can still drive you the rest of the way,” he insists.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be weird if other students at the dorm saw me getting out of your car? They might get the wrong idea.”

“I’ll drop you off a block away, then.”

“Fine,” you concede. Somehow it feels like you’ve won. Profesor Yang didn’t seem to think it was possible that the two of you could look past the one night you spent together and just get along normally, yet here you are making totally regular plans to just be in each others’ presence with absolutely no tension or weirdness whatsoever. That’s a success in your book.

You hop in on the passenger’s side. The inside of the car looks about as nice as the outside, and you suppress your giggle. It shouldn’t be so funny to you that an all-business guy like Professor Yang could still drive some piece of junk car. It’s kind of endearing that he’s so… normal. 

And then he gets in, turns on the car, and does the fucking dad thing - the thing where he puts the car in reverse, places a hand on the back of your seat, and completely fucking twists around to look out the back instead of just using the mirrors.

“Oh my God,” you can’t control your laughter.

Professor Yang throws a weird look your way as he backs out of the parking space. “What are you laughing at?”

“You really are an old man. You know, they give you mirrors for a reason. You should be careful twisting your back like that, you’re going to pull something in your old age, what with that frail, old-man body you’ve got.” You snicker, mimicking an elderly person with lower back pain.

“What are you talking about?” His eyes widen and he brakes, his hand still on your seat as he faces you. “First of all, I’m not even thirty yet, so cut it out. And I’m not going to address what you just said about my body because we both know that’s not even close to the truth.”

You ignore the fact that he very clearly, possibly intentionally, just reminded you that you quite intimately know what his body is like. You ignore the fact that the way he’s posed is actually really hot because of how his jacket hangs open and his sweater pulls tightly across his muscled chest. You ignore the fact that it would be so easy for him to lean over the console and kiss you. 

You swallow hard. There are a million red flags, but you ignore them all. Remember that he’s completely over you.

“Okay but you did just address it by saying that,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.

“Come on, I can’t just let you talk about me that way. It’s a lot of work to stay this fit and here you are calling me frail and old like you’re not-” He bites his tongue. 

“Like I’m not what?” Into it? Attracted? Drooling about it every time you picture him shirtless?

“I was going to say, ‘like you’re not walking around in a twelve-year-old’s body,’ but then I decided that would just be mean.” 

Your face heats up. You really shouldn’t be talking about bodies with him right now. Not when he just said that the two of you are mature enough to just be normal with each other. It’s so tempting to remind him how not prepubescent your body is, but you finally use some good judgment and decide to watch your words. “It’s just as mean as me calling you old, so it’s only fair.”

“I guess so.” Professor Yang laughs quietly, and then he falls silent. Maybe he’s fighting the same battle as you, trying not to picture you under him. Or maybe he actually has his shit together and this isn’t an issue for him. 

For once, he finally trusts you to be normal around him. You can’t blow it.

As you drive through the city, you tune into the rock music coming from his stereo. And the music selection is so ironic it fucking hurts.

“Don't want to be no uptown fool Maybe I should go to hell, but I'm doin' well, Teacher needs to see me after school...

“I think of all the education that I missed But then my homework was never quite like this Ow got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm hot for teacher I got it bad, so bad, I'm hot for teacher...”

You just sit there in wide-eyed terror as Van Halen streams from the speakers, and it takes Professor Yang a minute too long to realize what’s playing. He sucks in a quick breath when he notices, and scrambles to change the station. 

He settles on another rock station that’s currently playing Def Leppard, and you try to make light of the situation. “Do you only have rock stations programmed on here?”

Professor Yang clears his throat and tries to relax back in his seat, casually gripping the bottom of the steering wheel with one hand. “I just have a favorite genre, don’t act like you’re any different. I’m sure I could probably guess what you’re listening to.”

“Go ahead, then.” You laugh. “What do you think is the last song I played on my phone?”

His lips press into a line as he thinks. “Okay, this is somewhat of an educated guess. I’m going to go with “Superstitious” by Stevie Wonder.”

“Solid choice, but that’s not it.” You don’t actually remember what you were listening to earlier, but you know it wasn’t Stevie Wonder. 

“Plug your phone in, then. Let’s hear it.” He fishes out the aux cord, holding it out to you. 

“Oh man,” you laugh as you pull out your phone. “You’re really gonna slam me if I’ve got something stupid pulled up.”

“That’s the point. I’m testing your taste.”

It feels like he’s in exceptionally high spirits tonight. Maybe it’s because the exhibit went so well. Whatever the case, it helps you feel lighter. You plug in the phone and open your music - and luckily you’ve got a damn good song ready to go.

“You know The Emotions?” You ask him.

“Sounds familiar.”

You press play, and “Best of My Love” picks up somewhere in the middle.

“Oh, I think I know this song!” He pipes up. “Wow, I haven’t heard this in forever.”

“It’s so good! One of my favorites, actually.” 

“Demonstrating free love and affection That you give so openly The way I feel about you, baby, can't explain it Want the whole wide world to see Oh, woah You’ve got the best of my love...”

You force yourself to avoid looking over at him as you listen to the lyrics, realizing just how terrible this song choice actually is given the history between the two of you. But still, it’s a little less applicable than Van Halen, so you leave it on. You just remind yourself yet again that you’re over him, and he’s over you. Whatever’s going on between you now is totally, completely normal and regular and fine.

As you both quietly listen to your music, you wonder what’s going on in Professor Yang’s head. Eventually he speaks up, and it’s a completely different topic.

“I’m excited to see how your dulcimer turns out,” he says simply.

“Me too. I feel pretty good about it.”

“I’m impressed with what you’ve done so far. I think it’ll sound quite nice once it’s finished.” He makes a right turn, sparing a glance your way. “The true test will be part of your final.”

“What do you mean?”

“For the last day of class, you’ll have to write and perform a minute-long piece on your instrument.”

You squint skeptically “Don’t you think you’re giving me a bit of an advantage by telling me that now?”

“Do you know how to play a dulcimer?”

“No.”

“Do you have access to one that you could practice on?”

“No.”

“Then no, I don’t think you’re getting an advantage. I’m going to tell everyone else about the assignment next week. They’ll all have just as much time to prepare as you.”

You suppose that makes sense and he isn’t actually giving you any kind of benefit, but you can’t help thinking of all of the bogus grade adjustments you’ve had to confront him about. It sits with you weirdly, and you struggle to decide whether you should say anything about it.

Eventually you reach your destination. He lives in a cute little neighborhood on the north side in one of those little houses that has been converted into apartments. There aren’t any open parking spots on the street in front of his place, but he manages to find a spot on the next block. 

As he parallel parks, he turns around in his seat again to look out the back. And this time when he twists, he hisses and grabs his back like he’s in pain. “Ah, so old…”

It’s incredibly obvious that he’s faking because he’s a terrible actor, and you laugh. “This is why we have mirrors.”

He laughs with you and finishes pulling into the space. You both hop out and grab a few instruments from the back, and you let him lead the way down the sidewalk.

Professor Yang pauses at the door while he fishes for the right key. “I should warn you, I have a cat. Are you allergic?”

“Nope,” you smile. “I love cats!”

“He can be a little shy so he might not say hello.” He opens the main door and holds it open for you to step inside. You’re confronted with two more doors - one straight ahead and one to the right. He slips past you to unlock the one in front of you. He flips the light switch, illuminating the full length of the wooden staircase that heads directly up into his apartment. “Sorry to make you go up and down so many stairs. If you want, you can just stay down here and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff. “I’m here to help. I’m not just going to stand around and watch.” You confidently cross the threshold into his apartment, taking the literal first step into his personal life. You feel kind of nervous about coming inside, but you suck it up. This is only a big deal if you make it one, and you refuse to do that.

The stairs drop you off at a hallway that stretches off to your left, and an open kitchen and living room area is off to the right. You can’t see too much of it because the lights over there are still turned off, but you can see the tall window-doors that lead to the balcony outside.

“You can drop them off in the living room. Don’t worry about taking shoes off since we’re just heading back out again anyway.” He comes up behind you and flips another light, illuminating the living room and kitchen.

You do as he instructs, placing the instruments against the wall in the living room. The room is minimally decorated with a nice couch, a single armchair, and two large bookcases filled to the brim with books - save for the one shelf that is packed with vinyl records. It doesn’t surprise you to see so many books and records - he seems like he’s very well-read, and he’s enough of a music lover that of course he’d enjoy listening to records.

As much as you want to check out his collection, you know that you shouldn’t explore his apartment. You’re here to unload his instruments. That’s it.

You force yourself to turn away from the bookshelves and vaguely gesture towards the stairs. “Shall we?”

It takes a few trips, but eventually you get all of the instruments inside. All the while you’re incredibly aware of how close he is when he holds the doors open for you, or how damn cute the back of his head is when you’re following him down the stairs. You hate it - how can the back of a head be cute?

Over and over, you remind yourself: I’m over him. I’m over him.

You set down the last guitar with a small sigh. “I can’t imagine you having to do all of this by yourself. I’m glad I came to help.”

“I could have handled it, but thank you for your assistance.” Professor Yang steps into the kitchen. “Do you need anything to drink before I take you home?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” You shake your head, not wanting to impose. “Um, but can I use your restroom?”

“Sure. It’s the second door down the hall.” He gestures around the corner.

You follow his directions. When you’re finished peeing and washing your hands, you notice a pretty blue cologne bottle sitting on his counter. You pick it up and sniff it. Sure enough, it’s exactly the cologne you remember smelling on him. It’s absolutely delicious, and against your better judgment, you spritz it once on the inside of your jacket, zipping it up to lock in the scent and hopefully keep him from noticing the weird-as-fuck thing you just did.

When you come out of the bathroom, you head back towards the kitchen, but just then he comes out of his bedroom, startling you and nearly bumping into you.

“Oh!” You shout as you jump backwards, laughing. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s okay.” You brush it off.

He sniffs the air, and that’s when you know you fucked up. “Did you spray my cologne?”

You bite your lip, knowing there’s no point in lying. “I did.” He looks at you questioningly, so you fill in the gaps. “It just smells really good. I’m sorry.”

Professor Yang just watches you, and you’re fully aware of what a terrible idea it was to spray his cologne. And also what a terrible idea it was for you to even step foot into his apartment, let alone get in a car with him.

The rapid beating of your heart tells you that you’re still not over him. You don’t want to be over him.

What are you doing here? Why did you let yourself get to this point? 

You need to leave. You need to turn around and get yourself out of this mess. But for some reason, you’re completely captivated by his gaze, frozen in place and entirely unable to save yourself from the impending disaster.

It’s been far too long since he’s said anything, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. “What are you thinking right now?”

Too honestly, he responds, “It’s a bad idea for me to answer that question.”

“That answer makes it so much worse. What am I supposed to assume you’re thinking when you say that?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t assume anything.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you just answer my question.”

He huffs. “I’m thinking that you shouldn’t have come here. That you’re only twenty. That I can’t trust myself to…”

“Hm?” You hum, encouraging him to finish his sentence.

“I can’t trust myself to make good choices around you.”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest. Is he struggling just as much as you? Is he feeling the same pull of temptation, knowing that you’re all alone in his apartment, literally steps away from his bedroom? You have to be careful about what you say. “You’ve been doing a great job so far.”

“Why are you here?”

It’s obvious that he’s questioning your intentions, just like he did the first time he realized you were in his class. “I swear I just came to help with your instruments. I’m not trying to be sneaky.”

“Right.” Professor Yang’s lips press into a tight line, and you’re dying to know what’s going on inside his head.

It feels like he’s faltering. Like he’s holding your gaze for too long, keeping you in this apartment longer than you should be. You can’t help but feel responsible for getting yourself out of this before you both make a mistake.

But… part of you doesn’t want to stop this moment, doesn’t want to break free from whatever trap you’re falling into. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You don’t think carefully enough about your words. “It feels like… we’re already keeping a secret. One more won’t make a difference.”

“You know damn well that the secret isn’t the issue. You’re my student. That’s the issue. It’s morally wrong.” Even as he speaks, you can feel that he doesn’t totally stand behind his words. Like he’s trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to act on whatever he’s feeling right now.

You remember everything Yanan told you about how Professor Yang has always had a rock-solid stance against teacher-student relations… But it seems like he could be questioning his own morality. If he really wants to shut this down, he could just break out of this moment and head for the car, drive you home and forget this even happened.

But he doesn’t.

It’s painfully silent between you - no one wants to make a move, no one wants to withdraw. You're desperate to just talk about all of this, but you're terrified of what could happen if you speak. You’re just stuck in this awkward limbo of not knowing what’s going to happen next.

You want so badly to reach out to him. To pull him close and feel him. You wonder what he’d be like as a lover now that you’re no longer strangers. It would be so easy for you to find out…

You take one small step towards him as a small sign that you’re open and willing, academia be damned. Professor Yang’s lips part ever so slightly as he scans your face, but he doesn’t back away.

Suddenly, there’s a noise in the kitchen, and you jump away from Professor Yang as if you’ve been caught - but it’s just his cat spilling its food all over the kitchen floor. 

Still, that cut in the tension is enough to pull you out of the moment and help you clear your head. This is bad, and you need to leave. You refuse to look at him as you mutter, “I need to go.”

The second you try to pass him to hurry down the stairs, he turns and reaches out, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you in your tracks. The heat of his hand sears your skin.

“What are you-”

Before you can finish your question, Professor Yang pulls you into him, wraps an arm tightly around you, and presses one long, powerful kiss to your lips. 

Your whole body lights up from head to toe. It’s an adrenaline rush like no other, a hit of the drug you were hopelessly addicted to that one summer night. This is exactly what you’ve been craving - his strong arms and soft lips remind you just how badly you’ve wanted his touch.

When he breaks the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily. “Why can’t I get you out of my head?” And in that moment, it’s shockingly clear to you that he’s struggling with all of this just as much as you are. 

God, you’re so done for. This man completely owns your heart. Without a doubt, you’re a complete and total sucker for him. And it’s frighteningly easy for you to own up to that, as you say the most dangerous thing you could possibly say: “You don’t have to, Hongseok.”

His jaw visibly clenches when you say his name, and his voice is strained when he finally speaks. “Tell me again that you need to leave. Tell me to drive you home right now.”

“If I don’t?” You challenge.

“Then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t keep you here.” Hongseok swallows thickly. “So tell me I should take you home.”

Your pulse is through the roof as he pulls back and your eyes lock, and you know that you’re way too impulsive to do as he asks. You’ve been pining after this man for months, and here he is, kissing you and practically admitting that he feels the same way. You can’t just go home now.

“I don’t want to go home.” You grab onto the hem of his sweater and tilt your chin upwards, inviting him to kiss you again. “I only want you.”

This feels nothing like the night you met him, when he was playful and sure of himself. It’s like you can sense all of the weight he’s carried with him over the last few months. His eyes scan over your face, and you get to see the slightest smile on his lips before he finally leans in to close the gap.

Just like that, you get everything you’ve wanted from him. Hongseok’s lips are just as plush as you remember and you completely melt into the kiss, and his rough hands cup your face. You feverishly return each kiss, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater and pulling him towards you. Your nose bumps the rim of his glasses, but you don’t mind it one bit.

Hongseok kisses you like his life depends on it. He yanks your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the ground as he backs you into his bedroom. Every time he cups your cheek or grabs your waist, you feel like you could just shatter in his hands. 

You’re finally getting your fix and you love it. 

His passion is explosive as he kisses you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close. The strength and heat of him surprises you, as if your body has forgotten what it’s like to be with him. His lips are so soft and warm, and you’re swallowed whole by your insatiable lust for him.

You slip your hands under the hem of his sweater, desperate to feel his skin. You can feel every defined muscle as you drag your fingers across his back, and you moan quietly against his mouth when you feel his hand reach down to squeeze your ass.

Pleasure shoots through you with every small contact. His breath mingles with yours and gives you life, each kiss keeping your heart beating happily in your chest. Everything just feels so damn good. 

You both stumble towards his bed, tearing at each others’ clothes until you finally get that sweater off of him and he gets you out of your top as well. The backs of your legs bump into the edge of his bed right before he pushes you back onto the comforter. You fall onto your back, and he leans over you, his mouth latching onto your neck as his hand fiddles with the button of your jeans.

You drag your fingers through his silky hair, and you feel him suck deeply on the skin at the base of your throat. It’s just strong enough to hurt a little, and you dig your nails into his back. “Oh my God,” you moan, absolutely possessed with lust as he marks you.

Hongseok yanks off your pants, and releases you so that he can unfasten his own. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he unclothes himself, his round glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. He is just breathtakingly gorgeous.

There’s so much you want to ask him - was it hard for him to see you in class? Has he been thinking of you this whole semester? But you don’t ask any of those things, because you’re terrified to draw attention to your academic relationship. Sleeping with your professor is obviously the wrong choice to make, but you honestly couldn’t give a shit about any of that right now. It’s almost thrilling for you to know that you’re doing something you shouldn’t - but if you remind Hongseok of that, there’s a chance he’s not on the same page.

Hongseok smiles at you with that drop-dead gorgeous grin he has, and you know that at least right now he’s content to have you like this, spread out on his bed and waiting for him to finish getting naked. And that’s enough for you to decide to let the whole thing go and just enjoy living in the moment. You’re not going to ruin this by worrying.

As soon as he drops his pants, he’s on you again, like he couldn’t stand another second of distance from you. Hongseok’s mouth peppers your chest with kisses as a hand snakes beneath your back to unclasp your bra. He frees you from the garment, and his mouth eagerly wraps around one of your nipples, tonguing it and sucking gently.

“Bite it,” you plead, and he very willingly does as you ask. His teeth pinch your nipple, and you nearly cry out because it feels so good.

The last time you and Hongseok hooked up, you might have taken all the time in the world to get to explore each other’s bodies, but you could tell tonight would not be that way. You’ve both waited long enough for this dam to break and you need him so desperately.

You tug on his hair and he roughly palms you through your underwear, rushed and eager. After just a few moments he pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers across your slickness. You’re so wet for him already.

He aggressively plunges one finger inside of you, practically shuddering at the way you moan when he does. He pumps a few times before slipping in another finger.

Then he pulls away from you. “Don’t move.” He goes over to his closet, and pulls down a box of condoms from the shelf. You smile, and then become quickly distracted as he pulls off his boxer briefs, his hard cock grabbing your attention. 

He rolls on the condom and yanks you to the edge of the bed, slipping off your panties before bringing your legs to rest on his shoulders. He lines up the head of his cock with your pussy and presses inside of you, covering your legs with kisses and bites as his hips buck into yours.

It’s absolutely incredible and you’re so full with every thrust. His hips snap wildly into you and you moan, loving every second of this. Pure pleasure shoots through you, and then you fucking open your eyes.

It’s easy for you to just screw your eyes shut when you’re having sex, because closing your eyes lets you focus more on the pleasure that you feel. But when you look up to see Hongseok staring down at you with those sharp eyes of his, his rough fingers digging into your thighs, his abdominal muscles flexing every time his cock disappears inside of you… how could you not allow yourself to watch?

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my God…” The words come out against your will, but the deadly smirk on his lips makes you not regret it.

“I know.”

Cue the eyeroll. “And still a cocky little shit.”

“I might be.” Hongseok pulls your legs down so that they fall to either side of his waist, and he leans down over you, his lips brushing your ear. It’s clear that he’s not affected by the insult, and judging by the way the pace of this thrusting increases, you can only assume that he’s trying to prove his worth.

His forearms scoop under your upper back and his hands cradle your head as he fucks you, his kisses overwhelming your senses. You slip a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, and you moan against his mouth.

Pleasure burns through your body, your heart racing with each kiss, each thrust. The only thought in your head is the repeated chant of more, more, more, I need more. His cock slides deliciously in and out of you, completely covered in your wetness, but it isn't enough. Your fingers tirelessly press circles into your clit, but it isn't enough. You need more.

"Hongseok…" You mewl his name when he finally comes up for air. 

His eyelids hang heavily as he hovers over you. "_____…"

Fuck, he's so beautiful. It steals your breath away to see him looking at you like this, breathing hard as he pounds into you. His gaze is possessive, like he's finally claimed you, and you honestly wouldn't mind calling yourself his. But that's neither here nor there. 

You forcefully clench around him, squeezing his cock with all you've got. He certainly notices - he hisses as his eyes pinch shut at the feeling of you so tightly wrapped around his cock. His deep groan sends a shiver down your spine.

Hongseok’s voice is low as he says, “Christ, you feel so good.”

You don’t know what to say, or if you should even say anything. Hongseok’s expression is so serious as he locks eyes with you, like he’s genuinely lost in your gaze. It’s intimidating, yet it makes your heart race in the most incredible way.

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, noting how easily the soft strands slip between your fingers and how his whole face softens at the touch. Hongseok’s eyes close as he leans into your hand, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

He slows the pace of his thrusting until he’s languidly rolling into you, his arm muscles bulging beneath you as he holds himself up. You move your hand to cup his face, and he presses a kiss to your palm, never breaking eye contact.

Fuck. You remember exactly why it was so easy to pretend like you were in love that first night.

Your fingers trace over his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips, remembering the excitement of exploring him for the first time. This time feels so different - it’s a weird combination of a dangerous thrill and caution. It’s impossible to remove from your mind the fact that you really shouldn’t be doing this - you’re too overwhelmed by wanting him to pay much attention to the rules of reality.

But you see it on his face, too. The trepidation, the hesitation, and the incredible amount of desire that overrides everything else. 

As if Hongseok can tell that you’re beginning to overthink, he presses another kiss to your hand and gives you an easy smile. Softly, he murmurs, “It’s just you and me tonight.”

Aaaannnnddddd suddenly you’ve melted into a complete puddle.

“Just you and me,” you echo. 

Hongseok lowers himself, meeting your lips with another passionate kiss. You grab hold of his hair and return each kiss, moaning quietly as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. His tongue slides between your lips as your hand returns to your clit, electric pleasure pulsing through you once more.

You are absolutely content to stay here all night, trapped in his embrace with his cock thrusting deep inside of you with every movement. You don’t want a single centimeter of space between you and him. 

When you’re both breathing too hard to kiss properly, his mouth travels down to your neck, pressing sloppy kisses along your throat. Every swipe of his tongue draws a quiet cry from you, and you clench your muscles around his cock to return the pleasurable favor. 

You hear a deep moan from him, confirmation that you’re making him feel good, too. It’s like music to your ears; all you want is for him to feel good.

Instead of continuing to touch yourself, you use both hands to scrape the short tips of your fingernails down his back to elicit more sounds from him. And then you cup his ass and encourage him to press harder, deeper. And you keep clenching.

“Jesus Christ,” Hongseok mutters. He’s unraveling in your hands. You can feel it.

“What is it, Hongseok?” You play dumb, letting out a sweet moan just a moment after posing your question.

“You keep squeezing me…” Hongseok’s breath is shaky, and part of you loves seeing him so affected by you. “It feels so good, fuck.”

Digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks, you ask, “Do you want to cum?”

You clench around him again right as he’s about to answer. “Aaahhh… fuck, oh my God.” He looks up at you with the slightest smile on his face. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making sure you feel good.” You smile coyly at him. “Is it working?”

“Yes. Fuck.” Hongseok lets out a short laugh.

Boldly, you ask, “Why don’t you cum for me then? Let me see you cum...”

“Is that what you want?”

“Mhm.” You nod, smiling.

Hongseok lowers his lips to your ear. “Alright, sweetheart.”

The nickname shocks your core - you don’t know why you’re such a sucker for it. You’re inclined to believe that just about anyone could call you sweetheart and immediately have you begging to be fucked. 

What strikes you, though, is the slight difference you sense between hearing the nickname from Yanan versus Hongseok. When Yanan called you sweetheart, it felt sleazy, like he knew what kind of power it would hold and he wasn’t afraid to use it. That was hot in its own right. But when Hongseok calls you sweetheart, it feels strangely gentle and warm. Maybe it’s because of the way he holds you as he says it, the way his breath sweetly breezes past your ear. There’s something undeniably lovely about Hongseok, especially when he’s got you in his bed.

You press your lips to his temple, small moans coming from you as he keeps thrusting. The stretch of his cock feels absolutely amazing, and you’re completely captivated by every sensation - the rolling of his hips, the grip of his hand in your hair, the scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne.

With another clench of your pussy around his cock, you sense him hold back a moan, like he’s trying to hide just how easy it is for you to elicit a response from him. But at this point, you can’t be fooled. He’s so enamored by you that he couldn’t even let you reach the front door. And that fact is absolutely going to go to your head. 

Hongseok loses himself in you, thrusting into you and biting your neck, sucking your skin harshly and drawing a pleasured cry from you. It feels like he wants to absolutely devour you. If you could give him any more of yourself, you absolutely would. 

His breathing becomes ragged and you know that means he’s close. You card your fingers through his hair and whisper his name, and Hongseok lifts his head up to gaze down at you. His eyelids are heavy with lust, his lips parted from breathing hard. 

“_____…” Hongseok murmurs your name, his eyes pinching shut. Your eyes just skim over his face, taking in his gorgeous expression. His hips snap into you a few more times until he empties into the condom, and it’s just as incredible to watch as you remember.

Hongseok almost immediately dives in for another kiss as soon as he finishes. You eagerly reciprocate, still in need of your own release. His lips are devastatingly soft and you don’t think you’ll ever get over it.

Without leaving your lips, he lifts himself off of you, allowing his hand to roam over your curves. You feel terribly empty when he pulls out, but his cock is quickly replaced by his fingers. You groan against his mouth as his fingers gently pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles into your clit.

Finally, he releases your lips, and without a word he repositions himself on the bed so that he’s kneeling between your legs, pressing fervent kisses to your thighs. The teasing doesn’t last long, though - surely he can sense how desperate you are for more.

His mouth quickly moves to your pussy, gently kissing and licking your folds while his fingers continue gliding in and out. And then he finally reaches your clit, and your whole body warms with pleasure.

Hongseok’s tongue is wet and hot as it works your clit, and he looks so fucking hot between your legs like this. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You don’t dare to hold yourself back, moaning freely to let him know just how amazing he is at going down on you. With each suck, each flick of his tongue, you become more unraveled, the tension in your belly growing astoundingly fast.

You curse under your breath, wishing you could just enjoy this forever. Hongseok’s hand roughly grips your thigh, calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. His mouth sends waves of pleasure through your body. And on top of it all, your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, making you believe there’s a chance this could possibly be something special.

Hongseok’s fingers pulse in time with his tongue, and before you know it the coil snaps. Your entire body tightens and releases as your orgasm crashes over you, powerful warmth racing through your veins. Wave after wave hits you, and Hongseok presses a flat tongue against your clit as you ride it out, and the walls of your pussy rhythmically squeeze his fingers.

It seems like a solid minute of pure bliss before the feeling eventually fades. Hongseok retracts his fingers and lips, and he takes a moment to tie off the condom and toss it into the trash can next to his dresser. And then Hongseok joins you on the bed, wrapping you in his strong arms as sleep tugs at your eyelids.

You wake up unbearably hot, and it doesn’t take you long to realize why. You’re completely pressed up against Hongseok’s naked body, and that man is a radiator.

You smile at his sleeping face for only a moment before you start to fill with dread.

You hadn’t meant to spend the night, but you did.

You hadn’t meant to sleep with your professor, but you did.

It was an accident the first time. This time is completely inexcusable.

What were you thinking? How could you have let any of this happen? You’re fully aware of the consequences and yet you slept with him anyway. And you spent the night.

You peel yourself off of him. He seems to be a heavy sleeper and he doesn’t notice the movement, thank God. You hurry out of the bedroom, pulling on your clothes as you find them on the floor until you’re dressed enough to head out. And right as you reach the stairs, you hear him.

“_____?”

You pause. Of course you couldn’t just slip out unnoticed. 

But you have to leave. You don’t want to talk to him about any of this right now. You’re up to your eyes in anxiety and you just need to get out. You can’t even muster up the courage to turn around and see if he’s out of bed.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can think to say as you rush down the stairs and out the door.

The three hour train ride to get you home is too long for you to be left alone with your own thoughts. The fact that your jacket smells like Professor Yang’s cologne certainly doesn’t help. You replay last night’s events over and over in your mind, partly thrilled by the memory of sleeping with him and partly disappointed in yourself for your bad decision-making.

Last night was incredible. Spending time with Professor Yang at his showcase was actually really fun, and you have a new admiration for his talents and intelligence. Chatting with him in the car was so comfortable. And the way he fucked you…

You bury your face in your hands and lean towards the window of the train, hiding because you’re embarrassed to be having such lewd thoughts in public. You pull your turtleneck collar a little higher just to make sure the lovely hickey he left is appropriately hidden.

What are you going to do when you see him in class after break? Just pretend like nothing is going on as per usual, you assume. 

And what does this mean for everything with Kino? You’re supposed to be spending this short vacation thinking about what kind of future you want with him, not figuring out whether you regret an undoubtedly terrible choice you just made.

And Wooseok… you haven’t even addressed the fact that you were supposed to be at his place last night instead of Professor Yang’s. He hasn’t reached out to you either, so you assume that he was too drunk to remember your plans.

You’re going to have to dump all of this on Minseo as soon as you see her at the train station, since she’s the only one in the world who knows what happened between you and Professor Yang this summer. And honestly, you’re not sure if she’s going to be thrilled or pissed by what you’ve done.

You spend most of the train ride trying to distract yourself with music and a book, and by the time you arrive you actually start to feel excited about seeing Minseo. You tuck your book back into your backpack, grab your suitcase from the front of the train car, and step off of the train. The platform is full of other disembarking passengers, and you assume she must be waiting inside the station’s lobby. 

You pull out your phone as you roll your suitcase towards the lobby, and you’re surprised to see that she hasn’t responded to your text confirming what time she needed to be here to pick you up. That’s not necessarily a bad sign, but it’s not promising. You decide to try calling her, but she doesn’t answer. 

“I swear to God, if you forgot about me…” You seethe an empty threat at your phone as you hang up.

And then you hear your name called over the rumbling of your suitcase next to you. It’s a voice that you never in a million years expected to find here at this train station.

Your eyes dart around the room until you finally locate him, your heart completely stopping and your stomach dropping to the floor. 

He’s actually here. Right in front of you.

Your brother is here.

“Jinho?”

POST SCRIPT | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 10, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I post it!

UPDATE | Read Part 10 here!

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