#this semester has been humbling to say the least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bobohu4eva · 2 months

Text

Golden

Part 1/2

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: College AU, Baekhyun as an adorable art student and campus heartthrob, shy OC, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, angst, eventual smut

WC: 8.3k

Warnings: Harassment, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

The streets of Seoul set your mind ablaze in all their bright, manicured chaos.

It had been three years since your first time in the city, but again it sucked you right in without as much as a glimpse of hesitation. Not unlike you with a bowl of your favorite ramyun.

The American midwest had its charms, if you looked hard enough, but your eyes were getting tired. The city had always been more your speed, and Seoul was, in your mind, the absolute best there was. When the opportunity finally came to spend your last year of college at Korea University you eagerly took it.

No matter the area, the time of day, or one's specific interests, there was always a good chance that something uniquely enticing was just around the corner, waiting to be discovered. Getting bored wasn’t an option, even for those who might crave it every now and then.

Patience, like boredom, was not on the menu in Seoul either. Ppalli-ppalli is what they call it, ‘quickly-quickly, the culture that drives the city to cater perfectly to the needs of those as antsy, or really just anxious, as yourself. It’s hard to overthink for hours when there is so much constantly changing and happening around you, demanding your attention. You found that profoundly comforting.

Independence had always been a strength of yours, so the first several weeks flew by, but by the third week, and then the fourth, even you got a little lonely.

After a few years studying the language, your Korean was decent. Passable. But fluent, you were not. Ordering in restaurants, reading directions and street signs, that was no problem, but having to make any kind of meaningful conversation was humbling, to say the least.

It was a relief to finally get a roommate, Heejin, another senior at the university. She was thrilled to practice her English with you, and you your Korean with her.

Before you knew it the semester was starting, and right on your first day of classes, you noticed him. Surrounded by a large group of friends all laughing together, he was at the center in all his beauty.

It would be hard not to notice him, really, given his clothing. They were unusually colorful, in contrast to the muted neutrals most Koreans favor, and were often dotted with what looked like paint stains, mainly shades of yellow and gold. In the crowded lecture hall, he was a sliver of sunlight against the sea of black, brown, and gray.

He wore round glasses, which framed kind, puppy-like eyes the color of your favorite chocolate. The dark curls of his hair were perfectly fluffy, and his lips perfectly pink. Moles and freckles decorated his nose and cheeks generously.

You struggled not to stare. He was just so pretty. Especially when you saw him smile. Just the sight of him laughing at a joke you hadn’t even heard, brought a smile to your face.

He was shining, glowing, radiating so much warmth you’d blissfully forgotten the still looming chill of early spring.

“That’s Baekhyun, he’s a studio arts major, pretty much every girl I know has a crush on him. I get it, though, he is super cute, he seems really nice, too, though I don’t really know him myself.” Heejin told you, when you asked about him that same evening.

Against your better judgment, or any rational thought, really, you let yourself be drawn to him, taking your seat the next day in the row directly in front of his. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it, listening in on him and his friends' conversations before class started. He was whitty, charming, and effortlessly funny, though he never made jokes at anyone else’s expense, like his friends did. He seemed like a genuinely sweet guy, just like your roommate had said. And basically every girl on campus saw it too, along with how devastatingly cute he was.

Despite feeling relatively confident in the subject matter of all your classes, you still did your best to fade into the background and avoid being called on by the professors. Trying to sound smart and confident wasn’t something your Korean skills (or still slightly fragile psyche) were up to yet.

But as fate would have it, you couldn’t avoid talking in class forever. At the end of the second week, during your last class of the day, you were called on to answer something pretty simple, yet you still ended up stumbling over your words, sounding awkward at best.

You easily picked up on the snide comments and snickers coming from the girls behind you. Back home you would’ve thrown her a mean side eye at the very least, but now you just kept your head down. Making enemies so early on here couldn’t be a good idea. Not only that, but you knew Baekhyun would be witness to all of it.

“Sumin, it took you three tries to pass elementary English, talking about someone else’s language skills is wild.”

His voice was just as lovely as the rest of him, so you didn’t even have to turn around to be sure who’d said it, but you still did. There was a small reassuring smile on his lips, and a pout on hers. He’d said it so casually, like it was nothing, but it definitely meant a hell of a lot to you.

She was gorgeous, and you’d wondered in the past if there was something going on between them. But Baekhyun didn't appear all that impressed with her, at least not the way she clearly was with him.

You kept replaying it in your mind, until finally class was over, and you headed quickly towards the door, worried you’d be hearing more rude comments.

“Hey! Y/n, right?”

“Huh?” Too shocked to fully react, you spun around to see him walking straight towards you.

“I’m Baekhyun, sorry about my friend earlier. You’re an exchange student, right?” His English was nearly perfect, the slight accent he had making him sound even more endearing.

“Yeah… Thank you, by the way. How do you know my name?”

“Well, you do kind of stand out. In a good way though.”

He was grinning, looking gorgeous as ever, even in a simple red tshirt and jeans, dotted with the usual colorful specks of paint. Now that he was standing so close to you, you got a good idea of how tall he was, and although he wasn’t the biggest, most muscular guy you’d ever seen, his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his arms looked sturdy. As your eyes stayed glued to his form, your mind wandered off, thinking about how lovely it must feel to get a hug from him.

It occurred to you then that he must’ve asked someone about you, the same way you’d asked about him.

“I do?” You asked, starting to make your way towards the building’s exit.

“Well, yeah, there are other foreigners going here too of course, but I’m sure most of them don’t get as much attention as you.”

You blushed, not wanting to read into it too deeply, but you wondered if that was his way of telling you that he thought you were cute.

“I don’t know about that…”

“So, where are you headed now?” He asked, holding the door as you both left the building.

“Back to my dorm, that was my last class of the day.”

“Same, can I walk with you?”

“Sure, it’s a little far though.”

He shrugged, “I don't mind.”

As he accompanied you across campus, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so nice. He seemed like a nice person, of course, but he didn’t know you at all. You weren’t even an artsy type like he was.

“You’re an art student, right? Is that why some of your clothes have paint on them?”

He nodded, a big beautiful smile on his face. “My favorite is oil paints, and they stain like crazy so now I just let it happen, I kinda like the way it looks.”

“I like it too.”

“Yeah? Maybe I could paint on your clothes too sometime.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think I could pull it off.”

“What? Of course you could, if I can then you definitely can.” He teased, swaying slightly as he took his next step, letting his shoulder brush your own.

It was troublingly easy for him to make you blush, and you hoped he didn’t notice just how flustered he was making you, without even really doing anything.

“What about you? What's your major?”

“International business, I've wanted to move here for years, and that major was recommended to me for this exchange program.”

“Well, I'm glad you finally made it.” He grinned, warm and lovely, and if you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought that he was flirting with you. “You're from America, right?”

You nodded.

“What made you want to move to Korea?”

“My favorite professor back in the states was Korean, she told me that she thought I would do well here, and introduced me to the culture, the language, all of it. I eventually came here for a week-long spring break thing, and ended up liking it a lot.”

Even from the outer echelons of your gaze, his smile was still bright as ever, those beautiful kind eyes fixated on you with intent. You couldn’t look back at him, not yet, your fragile heart needed time. He wondered why the architecture of the surrounding buildings suddenly became of such keen interest to you.

“What about you? Why art?”

He shrugged, “I've always been the creative type, ever since I was a kid. I can’t really imagine doing anything else at this point.”

“I'd love to see some of your work, if you'd be willing to show me.”

“Of course!” His face lit up even more, somehow, and he immediately pulled out his phone, opening up a photo album of his recent projects and handing it to you.

You assumed he’d be pretty good just based on how popular he was, but when you got a good look at some of his work, it stopped you dead in your tracks. You froze, swiping through some of the pictures, speechless.

“Do you like them?”

You let out a short laugh, more in disbelief than anything else. “Are you kidding? These are amazing, you’re so talented.”

Most of his paintings were dreamlike scenes bathed in yellow and gold, bright shapes and colors coming through in the most beautiful ways, creating so much atmosphere and movement, even just through the screen of his phone. They all depicted people, mostly women, just going about their normal lives, but the colorful and abstract nature of his style made it all so much more alluring to look at. Without a doubt, he had a real gift.

He just shrugged, “I do my best.”

You were a little disappointed to reach your dorm so soon, and have to tell him goodbye, though he assured you he would see you in class. For the first time, you actually looked forward to it, the promise of seeing him and his wonderful smile again making all of your previous uncertainty melt into comparative irrelevance.

When the next class period came around, you’d expected to hear him sit down behind you with the rest of his friends. You did hear his friends sit down, talking among themselves, but he walked right past them, sitting down next to you instead.

He started asking you about the homework, totally casual, and you had to act like you weren’t internally screaming the entire time. You acted as normal as you could, all the while feeling Sumin’s eyes like sharpened pencils stabbing into the back of your skull.

Eventually class started, and that took your mind off things at least a little, but as soon as the professor dismissed everyone Baekhyun was once again asking if he could walk you home, and of course, you agreed.

An awkward silence filled the air as you tried to find something to talk about, but just having him there next to you made you so embarrassingly shy, you could hardly think straight. As he held the door for you, that disgustingly sweet fluttering sensation filled your belly, and while familiar, you’d never experienced it to such a degree.

“Do you have a favorite painter?” You eventually blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind, and to your relief, he seemed excited to answer.

“Yeah! I mean, there are a ton that I love, but the one I’m most inspired by in my own work is Gustav Klimt, the way he combines art nouveau, with more classical and Japanese influences, it's so cool. I try to do something similar, but with a more Korean flair. He was really controversial during his time too, but he didn’t care and just did what he liked anyway.”

“Why was he controversial?”

“Well…” He cleared his throat, and you swore, for a second, it looked like he was blushing. For once, he wasn’t looking at you, seemingly avoiding eye contact himself. “Many of his really famous pieces are of women, usually without clothes on. There’s a lot of symbolism around sexuality and eroticism, so early 20th century Austria labeled his work as pornographic.”

“Oh?”

“Well it was the 1910’s!” He replied, maybe a little too quickly, “One rogue boob was enough to thoroughly scandalize them, you know what I mean, right?”

You smiled, comforted by the fact that he actually seemed to be the one getting flustered now. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Different time.”

“He was ahead of his time, for sure. That's one of the things I love about him and his work.”

He just kept gushing about the different pieces he liked best, showing them to you on his phone, talking about the different motifs and what it was about them that he loved. It was so sweet, his enthusiasm for it, and you took it all in happily.

You could listen to him talk about art all day long. You could see the sparkle in his eyes, the passion and excitement he had for it, and you were almost jealous of him, that he was so great at something that he loved so much. Sadly though, you soon made it back to your dorm again. However this time, when you turned to start walking up the steps, he stopped you.

“Wait, um, if you wouldn’t mind, could I get your number?”

You stared back at him for a minute, happy but surprised, before nodding. He handed you his phone and you added your contact, heart beating rapidly, trying your best not to look as excited as you felt.

When you reached your room, you saw the first text from him, one of the paintings he’d shown you. It was the same colorful yet overwhelmingly golden color scheme you’d seen in his own work, and depicted a man kissing a woman on the cheek. The racing of your heart took several minutes to return to a more normal pace.

As the semester went on, he always sat with you, and always walked you home. It took you another few weeks to really start opening up to him, but as you gradually did, his kind and warm demeanor made you feel at ease. He asked you about your family, your hobbies, whatever he could to get to know you better. You told him about your love for music, your favorite artists, and he always listened intently. He’d check out songs you recommended, and singers he’d never heard of, seeming as eager as you to get to meet again and discuss them more in depth.

Even as you talked to him about more personal matters, he never made you feel judged, always keeping an open heart and mind. That was another thing about him that you grew to admire.

You loved Seoul, and Korean culture, but learned that people could be more judgemental, and on the basis of quite superficial matters. Not only that, but these judgements were perfectly acceptable to express, adding an extra layer of pressure to everyday life. Baekhyun, however, didn’t partake in any of it.

Despite how attractive, popular, and as you came to learn, wealthy, he was, he never talked down to anyone. Jokes of that sort, that were normal to basically all of his friends, he wouldn’t react to, noticing the way he’d steer the conversation away from such topics when they came up.

He was accepting of everyone, regardless of their status, appearance, or various other factors. He was friends with basically everyone, too. As he’d walk with you he would always be greeting people left and right, giving everyone a smile and a friendly wave, never once ignoring someone or showing any condescension. He was just good.

His kindness, as lovely as it was, unfortunately also made you realize how not special you were to him. It was simply in his nature to be kind, even to those who might not deserve it, or could get the wrong idea. It was obvious how many girls had crushes on him, and though it never contained any malicious intent, he flirted with basically all of them. It was just part of his good nature. When he could tell someone liked him, he liked to make them happy. He never purposely misled anyone, or got their hopes up, but you still saw it happen time and time again. He would compliment a girl, and she would get all flustered, just like you had, wondering if maybe he really did like her, only to be disappointed when he did the same to her friend. If he wasn’t such a goddamn sweetheart he probably would've been labeled a playboy long ago, but everyone could clearly see that he wasn’t like that. Sleeping around wasn’t something he seemed to do either, though he definitely could’ve if he wanted to.

All of that being said, you still fell hard for him. It felt silly, being so infatuated and getting so flustered around him due to his sweet words, knowing that there wasn’t anything special about the way he treated you. He was that sweet to all of the girls, and you couldn’t even be mad at him for it, so you learned to hide how you felt. At least you wouldn’t end up looking like a fool that way.

Walking to class in the mornings always felt like such a chore, especially ever since Baekhyun had started to accompany you on your way back home everyday. You missed his company, and it was usually still quite cold, too, something you hated. Getting to listen to music uninterrupted was the only part that brought you some solace.

One morning was particularly stressful for you, having overslept the day before an exam, already late to the very necessary hour of studying you’d planned before going to your first class.

You were walking quicker than usual, headphones on, focused on making it to the library. However none of that seemed to deter the guy who started walking alongside you, now talking at you, motioning for you to take your headphones off.

Annoyed as you were, you didn’t want to be rude either. You took off the headphones, telling him, “Sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry.”

He didn’t seem to care, and when you started putting your headphones back on, he grabbed them from you.

You stared at him, clearly pissed off and in slight disbelief, but still, he just kept walking, now uncomfortably close to you. “I’m Jaeyong. I’ve seen you around, you’re really pretty. My dad basically owns this whole place, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” You tried to take your headphones back, but he kept them out of reach.

You’d seen him around campus too, surrounded by a posse of other rich kids, though they weren’t the kind Baekhyun associated with, and it was easy to see why. You immediately had a bad feeling about the guy.

“Can I get your number? We should go out sometime, I only date foreign girls. You guys are way less stuck up than the girls here, more open minded.”

Oh lord. You’d been warned about guys like him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, don’t be a bitch. At least give me your number.”

You ignored what he said, trying again to get ahold of your headphones, and he still refused to give them back.

“You’d be lucky to go on a date with someone like me, you know.”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Can I please get my headphones back now?”

“What? You have a boyfriend or something?”

He’d been following you long enough that you were already in front of the library, and you really didn’t want him to follow you inside. For your own sanity, but also to spare the other students the annoyance, knowing he likely still wouldn’t shut up.

Unfortunately when you didn’t go inside, he ended up backing you up to the side of the building, blocking you into a corner.

“You can get your headphones back if you agree to go on a date with me.” His face was so close to your own you could smell his breath, turning away from him, refusing to respond. “Come on Y/n. You know you want to.”

The greasy smirk on his face made you feel sick. You didn’t remember ever giving him your name.

“I really need to go study.”

“I said, don’t be a bitch. It would be really stupid of you to reject me.” He spat, a jarring change in his tone.

He was no longer smiling, either, clearly getting frustrated with you. Fear started to take over, and you decided you could get new headphones later, you just needed to get away. You tried to get past him, but his hand on your shoulder shoved you against the side of the building roughly, painfully, and panic quickly set in, tears forming in your eyes. He didn’t even seem to care that there were other people around, clearly confident nobody would bother to stop him.

He was talking again, and you could hear the malice in his voice, though you were too scared to even really tell what he was saying anymore, cheeks now wet, repeating again and again to please just leave you alone. Your shoulder ached, still being held against the brick wall hard enough that you knew it would bruise.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, shaking your head, and suddenly the hand on your shoulder was gone. You collapsed to the ground, only vaguely aware of the voices around you.

There was a cacophony of “Leave her alone”, “Mind your business”, “Fuck off”, and more coming from only a few feet away but you just sat slumped against the wall, wishing it would all go away.

The sudden touch from a pair of hands taking hold of your own made you jump. You finally opened your eyes again, and to your great relief, it wasn't the guy who’d been bothering you, it was Baekhyun.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

A pair of concerned eyes met your own, feeling his thumbs as they softly ran across the backs of your hands. You stared back at him, dumbfounded, too stunned to speak. He was crouched down in front of you where you still sat against the wall, the other man nowhere to be seen.

“Please say something.”

“I- I don’t know.”

You didn’t notice, but Baekhyun grew increasingly aware of the people starting to gather around. His grip on your hands tightened and he pulled you back up to your feet, disappearing into the library with you. He made his way into the first empty study room he could find, his hand still firmly holding your own.

Now that you knew you were actually safe the adrenaline finally began to wear off. Baekhyun pulled out a chair for you to sit, so you did, and he soon followed. He moved so he was facing you instead of the table, and you tried to do the same, but when you braced yourself against the table and put even the slightest pressure on it, pain shot up towards your shoulder, making you wince.

He caught on right away, moving your chair for you.

“Are you hurt?”

Embarrassment slowly took hold now that you’d come to realize the gravity of the situation. As much as you didn’t want him to worry about you, you knew you couldn’t just lie, either.

“It isn’t too bad, I’ll be okay.” You were avoiding his eyes, growing more and more shy by the second. “You should get to class, I need to study anyway.”

“What?”

The softness and confusion in his voice pierced through your heart, even with only that one word. He was moving closer, and you hadn't even realized that you were still crying, not until his thumb began to gently wipe your tears away.

You were painfully aware of the rapid increase in your heart rate, as well as the redness spreading across your cheeks. He was so close now, his hands delicate on your face, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes swimming with unease, still so worried about you.

His eyes moved to your shoulder, and his hand to the collar of your sweater.

“Can I..?”

You nodded, turning that side of your body towards him, and he slowly moved the fabric aside.

Seeing how his eyes widened, you looked down, and saw the blue and purple bruises for yourself.

“You are hurt. Let's get you to a nurse.” He said as he stood, but you stayed seated.

“Baekhyun, it's ok, I can go by myself later, you don't have to do all this.”

“Yeah, I do. I want to help.” He said, and held out his hand, beckoning you to get up and go with him. His eyes met yours, holding your gaze with intent. You couldn’t say no to him, not when he looked at you like that. His hand was warm when you finally took it, gratefully accepting his kindness, bashful as you were.

His hand stayed holding yours the entire way to the health services building. It wasn't far, but you still noticed the looks you got, especially from other girls.

You assumed that Baekhyun would leave for class once he dropped you off, but he didn't. He took a seat with you as you waited for your name to be called, and soon enough, you were being led down the hallway, with him still by your side.

“Sorry, your boyfriend can't come in the room with you.” Said the nurse, and you and Baekhyun exchanged nervous glances, though neither said anything to correct her..

He sat himself down in a nearby chair to wait, and you followed the nurse into the room. When you returned, he still wore that same nervous expression, asking, “How bad is it?”

His sweetness brought a long overdue smile to your face. “Not bad.” You said, and pulled your sweater aside to show him the tape and bandages. “No heavy lifting for a few weeks, and I should try not to move it too much, but nothing serious.”

Finally, you saw him ease up a bit, showing you a small smile as well. “Can I walk you to class?”

You nodded, and he was once again by your side as you headed across campus, though this time without his hand holding yours. As much as you tried to deny it, you missed the feeling. Once or twice you felt his hand brush up against your own, and you wondered if he was thinking the same thing, but you knew you shouldn’t get caught up in those kinds of thoughts.

“I don’t want to intrude, but if you’d like- I mean, if it would make you feel more comfortable, I could walk with you in the mornings, too, and between classes.”

As he said it his eyes were fixed on his hands, fidgeting with a ring he had on.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you late, or be a bother.”

“It’s no problem at all! Really, I think I would also feel better, just knowing that you’re safe.”

“Oh..I would like that, yeah.” You found yourself looking down at the pavement, blushing, mind once again wandering off, the sickly sweet feeling fluttering within you. When you turned onto a larger road, you didn’t miss the way his hand gently took hold of your good shoulder, positioning himself between you and the street.

You went on to text him your class schedule, and he happily agreed to walk with you wherever you needed to go, though you still found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t end up making himself late as a result. He seemed so happy to do it, though, you didn’t question him any further. When you thought about the very real possibility of running into Jaeyong again, you were grateful you’d have Baekhyun by your side.

He waved you goodbye when you got to class, and when it was over he was in the same spot, already waiting for you.

It went on like that for the rest of the day, with him being his usual wonderful self. You could tell that he was trying his best to brighten your day after it started so badly, and you appreciated it more than you could put into words. During your last class, he was joking around more than usual, complimenting you more, making you smile every chance he got. When it was finally time to say goodbye for the day back at your dorm, you didn’t want to let him go.

The next morning, true to his word, he was there waiting for you when you walked outside. Instead of heading towards campus, though, he insisted you sit down on the closest bench, “I have a surprise for you.” He said.

You played along, sitting down, following his directions to cover your eyes. He seemed to rummage around in his backpack for a minute, then set something down on your lap.

He gently took hold of your wrists, moving your hands aside, and you finally got a good look at the surprise he’d prepared.

It was a pair of headphones. The same model you’d had, but the newest version. Your old pair had been expensive enough, you almost couldn’t believe that he actually spent the money on a replacement.

“Do you like it? I tried to get your old pair back yesterday, but that asshole broke them.”

As much as you wanted to fight him and insist it was too much, he looked so excited, the smile on his beautiful face so pure, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You grinned back at him, standing up to throw your arms around him without a second thought. The way he hugged you back was just as amazing as you’d always imagined it would be. He was warm, his chest and arms firm in the most comforting way, and even the way he smelled was addictive. His embrace was nothing short of perfect, and it took everything in you not to whine when it inevitably came to an end.

“Thank you.”

“I know how much you love music, so I figured a nice pair of headphones would be pretty important to you.”

“It is, this is so sweet, I don’t even know what to say.”

He grinned, a teasing look on his face, “I wouldn’t mind another hug, if that’s easier.”

Your smile told him more than enough. This time, he was the one to pull you in, and he held you even tighter, letting the embrace linger for a moment longer. You put the headphones in your backpack, and started walking to class.

“You know I think that's the first time I've ever heard you call someone an asshole.”

“Well he really, really is.” He laughed. “I couldn't stand him even before he did all that. It's not the first time he's done that kind of thing either, but nobody ever stops him since his family donates a ton of money to the university and is on the board of directors.”

“That's awful..”

“Yeah he's the worst. How's your shoulder?”

“It only hurts if I put pressure on it or move it wrong, it’s really not too bad.”

You didn't have the heart to tell him that it did kind of hurt when he hugged you, but you'd happily deal with the slight discomfort of it, if it meant you'd get to do it more often.

He seemed to catch on anyway, only lightly holding onto your good side when you got to class and he told you goodbye. You wondered if he'd been thinking about holding you the same way you had been for weeks, now that he seemed so keen on it.

Every time he was sweet to you, you felt yourself falling for him even harder. Just walking with him was enough to turn you into a giddy mess, gradually falling in love with every little part of him. Whenever you felt especially shy, you would ask him about different art projects he was working on and he would show you, going on and on about what inspired it, the different motifs and themes. His voice always calmed you down after a little while, but by then, you'd usually be home or at your next class.

For days you thought about inviting him over, telling yourself you'd finally just do it, but always chickening out at the last minute. With how he treated you, you started to think that if he was alone with you, he might actually make a move. Maybe.

It wasn't until the end of midterms that you finally worked up the courage to invite him in.

He asked what you were up to that evening, as he usually would, and you told him that you were just going to study for the exam the next day, in the class you shared with him.

“Me too.” He said, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite read as you got to the entrance of your dorm.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you both stood there, not yet wanting to let him leave, and it seemed to you that he didn't want that either.

He moved closer, about to hug you goodbye when your hand landed on his shoulder.

“Wait-”

He froze, swallowing, glancing nervously at the door.

“If you’re just gonna study tonight too, would you want to maybe come inside and study together?”

You braced yourself for the rejection, already dreading the excuse he would make, so it came as a surprise when he showed you a big dazzling grin.

“That sounds great, sure.”

You didn't miss Heejins face when he walked through the door with you, raising her eyebrows suggestively with a grin on her lips as soon as his back was turned.

“Baekhyun, this is my roommate Heejin.”

He smiled and greeted her, and you knew she'd be bombarding you with questions as soon as he was gone again.

You led him to your room, getting out your textbook and settling in on your bed, with him right next to you.

Part of you hoped that he wouldn't be all that keen on actually studying and you'd be able to just talk and hang out. Maybe, he would even make a move. Unfortunately though, he really did want to study.

Even as you both studied in silence, he somehow still managed to make the room feel far hotter than it realistically was. You felt his eyes on you more often than seemed normal, and a few times you'd looked back up at him, but he'd always quickly returned his attention to his textbook. He kept inching closer to you as well, every brush of his shoulder or thigh against your own increasing your heart rate.

You probably stole a few too many glances at him too, but he just kept drawing you in. Every detail of his face looked so kissable, your mind drifted away from your class work, wishing he was in your bed as more than just a friend.

Every time he would turn a page his hands caught your attention. The mole on his thumb was so cute, you thought, just another part of him you found yourself becoming obsessed with.

Hours went by in what felt like minutes, and when you both started yawning, you decided to call it a night. He hugged you again before leaving, only holding onto the side that wasn’t hurt.

You were proud of yourself for actually taking the initiative and inviting him in. The way he’d kept looking up from the textbook at you, more often than felt normal, kept replaying in your mind. As much as you didn’t want to fall victim to his charm only to be disappointed later, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he really did like you the same way you liked him.

You couldn’t get him out of your head as you got ready for bed that night, and even as you tried to go to sleep, his soft smiles and the way his thigh brushed against your own consumed your thoughts. Your mind wandered off, wondering how he’d react if you made some kind of move on him, though you knew you’d never actually have the confidence to do so. The idea of him reciprocating any of it, kissing you, touching you, almost seemed like it would be worth it. However the possibility of rejection, of losing his friendship, was still too scary for you to consider it.

It was well past midnight when you finally started dozing off, but the sound of your phone pulled you back to reality. For a second you considered just ignoring it until morning, but something inside told you not to. It must've been intuition, because when you did look, it turned out to be a text from him.

Are you awake?

You replied pretty much right away,

Yeah, why?

Can I call?

Sure

Fuck. Before you even had the chance to properly freak out, his caller ID was flashing across the screen. You picked up.

“Hi, y/n. Sorry to call so late, I can't sleep.”

“No worries, is everything okay?”

“Yeah.. I think I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh…”

“Is that weird to say?”

“No! I mean, you could call me at any ungodly hour and I'd probably still pick up, to be honest.”

The words slipped out before you had any real chance to think about what you were saying, and true as it was, you were still grateful he wasn't there to see how hard you were blushing.

“Really? That's awfully tempting… I might end up keeping you up a lot, though. Heejin’s gonna hate me.”

You laughed as quietly as you could, “She has her own bedroom, she'll be fine.”

“Thank you again, by the way, for inviting me in today.”

Your cheeks ached with how hard you were smiling, staring up at your ceiling with the phone pressed to your ear.

“It's nice to have some company. I always get so distracted when I try to study by myself.”

“Well, if I hadn't put it off for so long I probably would've just talked the whole time. I don't know if I'm really a good study partner, but if you want company again just let me know.”

“Well next time don't procrastinate so much, dummy.”

“So you're cool with me distracting you?” You could hear it in his voice, the way he grinned as he said it.

“Maybe a little..”

A brief pause.

“Did you have a boyfriend, back in America?”

The sudden question caught you off guard.

“No.. why?”

“Just wondering, I guess… I mean that must be hard, right? Having all your loved ones so far away.”

You wondered if you should tell him, but decide it would be best to just be honest.

“Okay that wasn’t entirely true. I was seeing someone, but he wasn’t a boyfriend and I knew I wanted to move here, so I ended it. I do miss my family and friends, but I still talk to them basically every day.”

“What about when you graduate? Are you gonna move back?”

“No,” You giggled, amused with how concerned he sounded, “Hopefully not, I like it here.”

“Thank god”

“Why? Would you miss me?”

He was quiet for a moment, dropping the teasing tone and answering with surprising tenderness.

“Of course I would miss you.”

“Oh.. I would miss you too.”

“Awww, cute.” You could practically see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Baekhyun!”

“What?”

“You can be such a little shit, you know that?”

“How am I a little shit?!” He gasped, though even over the phone, you could tell he was just being his usual dramatic self.

“You get a kick out of fucking with me!”

“I wasn’t fucking with you! I just genuinely think it's cute that you would miss me, that’s all.”

“You can’t tell, but I’m rolling my eyes.”

“What? I’m not allowed to think you’re cute?”

There was a long pause, and you considered if you should really believe him. It wasn’t that you thought he was being dishonest, you just didn’t want to set yourself up for disappointment.

“Baek…”

“What?” His voice was once again soft, bringing with it a tightness in your chest.

“Nothing.. It’s just late, I guess, I’m pretty tired.”

For a while he was quiet. You would’ve given anything to know what was going through his head right then.

“You’re right.. I’ll let you get some sleep. I’m glad you were still up when I texted you. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

As much as it pained you to hang up, inevitably staying up much much later now that he’d given you so much to think about, his flirting just wasn’t something you knew how to handle. Even if he really did like you, why didn’t he say something more than just playful flirting? It would be a dream if he actually confessed to you, but it was exactly that; just a dream. That was clear enough considering how openly he flirted with other girls around you.

The next week he was his usual friendly self, walking with you, joking around, though you felt he’d pulled back a bit on the flirting. Part of you was relieved, since it turned you into a blubbering mess, but of course you also missed it.

He did still keep calling you though, often late at night, when he said he couldn’t sleep. A few times, you’d both even passed out with the call still ongoing. He told you that talking to you calmed him down, and once, he’d even said that he wished you were there with him. You’d laid awake nearly all night, wondering how he’d meant it. Did he just want company? Did he hate sleeping alone? Or did he also want something more than just friendship with you? Either way, until he said something more concrete, you wouldn’t be the one to ask.

It was during one of those late night phone calls that he invited you to a friend's birthday party. It was at a popular club near the university, and at first you weren’t going to attend, but he managed to talk you into it. After all, he would be there. Alcohol and music also meant dancing, and the possibility of dancing with him was enough to ensure that you’d be there too.

He wasn’t able to walk you, since he had to help set everything up, so you ended up going alone. Which wasn’t a big deal, in theory, but as someone who’d always been on the more anxious side, it still made you uneasy. Seoul was very safe, that wasn't the problem, it was what would happen once you got there that worried you. Baekhyun was your only friend there. You didn’t want to be a bother and hang onto him all night, since the rest of the guests were basically strangers to you.

When the time came you wore your favorite outfit, and stepped into the subway towards Hongdae with all the confidence you could muster.

You arrived a little later than the time he’d told you, not wanting to seem overly eager, and to your relief he already seemed to be waiting for you. When he pulled you in for a hug it was tighter than usual, and the smell of tequila on him was pronounced. You quickly took a shot with him, wondering how many he’d already downed prior to your arrival.

The club was still relatively empty, but that didn’t seem to bother Baekhyun as he pulled you towards the dance floor. You protested, and he pouted.

“I don’t really dance, at least not when I’m this sober.”

Seconds later another shot of tequila was pressed into your palm, and Baekhyun clinked his glass to yours, spilling a little, before you downed them in unison. Before you knew it, he had you on the dance floor.

It was your first real night out in Seoul, and it left you every bit as breathless as you’d expected. Now happily drunk, you danced with him, back pressed to his chest, both his hands on your hips.

Any worries you’d had about the amount of alcohol being consumed were long forgotten. You just let the music guide you, swimming in the euphoria of his hands on you and the closeness of your bodies.

When his warmth behind you disappeared, you spun around to search for him. Without him as an anchor, everything became far more overwhelming. There were more people now, the crowded space growing warmer, almost suffocating, until he burst through with a grin on his gorgeous face and two cups of water in his hands.

You hadn’t even realized how dearly you needed it until he’d appeared, grateful to drink something other than tequila. When one of your favorite songs began, and you beamed at him, and he beamed back at you even brighter. He remembered, of course he did. He knew all of your favorite music, because you’d told him so much about it.

Now as you danced, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His hands gripped your waist, and your arms were slung around his neck, swaying to the familiar beat, getting lost in the drunken haze of it all. You realized then that he was staring at you just as intensely as you stared at him.

This is what it’s all about, you thought to yourself. Letting go completely, enjoying the music you love, and sharing it all with your favorite person. His smile shone so brightly, and you mirrored it, unable to imagine a more perfect moment.

You hardly realized it when he began to drag you off the dance floor. The song had long ended, and as the speakers became more distant, his voice became clear.

“Y/n?”

His eyes were bigger than ever as you looked up into them, in awe of their gentle downward slope, their deep brown color, the sincerity always behind them.

“Baekhyun?”

“I want to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“I..” He trailed off, still looking at you, seeming to lose his train of thought. “You… You look really pretty, you always do, but especially right now.”

It was nothing he hadn’t told you before, but it still hit you harder than ever. For a while you just held his gaze, until in a burst of blind, drunken, confidence, you moved closer. You stood on the tips of your toes, and ever so softly, you let your lips meet his blushing cheek. Before the confidence could wear off and you’d start to second guess yourself, you pulled him back onto the dance floor.

You both downed a few more drinks, your attention devoted fully to each other. It was silly, now, to think of how worried you’d been about coming here. You hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

Eventually you had to excuse yourself to find a bathroom. You stared into the mirror as you fixed your lip gloss, wondering if Baekhyun had a mark on his face, from where you’d kissed him earlier. You liked the idea of other girls knowing that you’d been there.

You held onto the sink with an iron grip, closing your eyes for a second to steady yourself, all too aware of the way the room spun around you. Drinking this much wasn’t like you, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t care.

The bright flashing lights and hoards of strangers were disorienting, especially in your intoxicated state. You ended up on a sort of balcony, overlooking the dance floor, trying to find Baekhyun somewhere among the crowd.

When you finally spotted him, your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. He was dancing with Sumin.

Everything that happened next felt like it went by in slow motion.

Her eyes broke away from him, scanning the room, and briefly met yours. You saw her throw her arms around his neck. She kissed him, and he kissed her back.

The music seemed to wane into a dull buzz, sudden dizziness causing you to stumble. It took you a minute to get your bearings again, but when you did, you pushed your way through the crowd and out onto the street without a second thought.

It had started to rain. The smell of wet concrete was your only company as you walked towards home, a cruel, painful pit swallowing you from the inside.

Baekhyun didn’t like you like that, of course he didn’t. He was like that with all the girls.

#baekhyun fic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo #exo fic #exo fanfic #baekhyun #exo fluff #exo angst #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop female oc #exo smut #kpop smut

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

The Date

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Inspired by the already beloved Teacher Ben sketch from Pedro’s SNL appearance, this fic is dedicated to every single reader with a HUGE hug and a kiss straight from me to you. Just over about two weeks ago I passed the 2k follower mark and I am so incredibly humbled by everyone’s love and encouragement. Writing makes me happier than almost anything else in the world and I am blown away by the sheer number of you who stop by my little corner of the tumblrsphere to read the words that I produce along with my beloved @absurdthirst. There is absolutely no end to our collaborations in sight and I am thrilled to keep rolling out fun stories week after week 🧡

Rating: Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 19.9k Warnings: Age gap (reader is an adult student of unspecified age), mentions of deceased spouse, awkward flirting, reader is bad with social cues, Marcus on a Motorcycle, using superpowers for foreplay, begging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex (superhero stamina). Summary: After spending the semester becoming friends with your criminal justice professor, retired Heroic Marcus Moreno, it appears that your crush isn’t so unrequited after all. Notes: I was very sleepy doing this edit, so I’m sorry if I missed some things.

Sometimes you really do sit through classes waiting for a cartoonish sounding bell to ring and it’s just too bad. The general education classes that you have to take really aren’t your cup of tea, even though you know you need them for your degree and really should be paying attention. But you’re not going to need chemistry when you restart your career as a high school English teacher. Nor are you going to need the complex algebra and trigonometry that stumped you the first time you went to college. And you’re probably not going to need to understand the intricacies of the criminal justice system either - but this class was a little gift to yourself.

The hottest professor you could have ever dreamt of in a three-times-a-week lecture that frequently includes anecdotes from his legendary career as the leader of the Heroics. Since the first day of this class it’s been like a real life version of the Indiana Jones scene where undergrads have love notes written on their eyelids and leave him gifts and notes hoping for a smidgen of extra attention, and you can’t really blame them. The thing is, the poor kids don’t stand a chance. He has a daughter nearly their age and couldn’t ever shake the feeling of how young they are. Or at least that’s what he told you the first time you sat together in the student union to eating lunch together after class. Marcus is sweet. He’s charming and maybe a little insecure socially, but when he stands up in front of the class he commands attention at the drop of a hat. He’s incredibly smart - genius, even - and he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s what he told you the fourth time you had lunch together in the student union after his class was over. Which is why you’ve kept your own crush a very tightly wrapped secret for the entire semester. You’re friends now, or at least very good acquaintances, and you wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.

But next week is the final, and once that’s over you’ll have no excuse to sit and talk about your favourite books or how crazy his daughter is driving him now that she’s fifteen and learning to drive. Last week Missy had used the word girlfriend to refer to a girl in her friend group for the very first time and Marcus had nearly hyperventilated telling you about it. You’re friends. Loose ones, at least. And if you don’t screw up your courage and say something by next week, it might all go away. And you think you might regret that even more than not graduating college The first time you went, many years ago.

Marcus sighs as he flips the tie over his hand and pulls the knot through. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he does. Why he still wears a tie, he hasn’t quite worked out, but it’s a part of his routine and made him feel a bit more like the uniform he had worn for most of his life. If you called black jeans, a tac vest and double swords a uniform. Pushing the knot up to tighten it, he glances at the clock on his nightstand and curses. “Shit.” He had promised to grab you a coffee on the way into class and he doesn’t want to fuck that up. “Get moving, Moreno.”

The city buses are remarkably punctual today, getting you to campus twenty minutes before class instead of leaving you scrambling with just a few minutes to spare, and you take your time walking to the history building where his class is held. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you get to see Professor Moreno today. It’s going to be a good day. Whether it’s a brave day is still up for debate.

Marcus has a habit of frowning as he thinks. Shuffling papers on his desk as he mentally files through the itinerary for the day as he sips on the coffee he had gotten for himself. The other one on his desk was the triple shot, two pumps vanilla, one pump one chocolate, one pump raspberry latte that you had sworn was your favorite drink at the coffee shop he always stopped by. The fact that he ordered the same thing for himself to try was not going to be mentioned, but it was good.

“Morning.” Being a commuter is a boon today. There are no other students in the classroom when you open the door, and the man you only call Marcus in private is already sitting at his desk pouring over papers. The soft green tie matches the color in his plaid shirt and you smile reflexively. He’s so stunningly handsome, especially like this.

“Morning.” Immediately, Marcus looks up from his notes, standing up right after that as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Being a fucking idiot is what he’s being, but at least he resists rolling his eyes at himself. “I see you’re early. Wanting that coffee Huh?” He asks, grinning slightly as he pushes the extra cup towards you.

“The bus was on time today.” The way he always seems to get flustered when he’s interrupted is adorable and you bite your lip to hold back a grin. “You really didn’t have to get my drink for me…but I appreciate it.” Your friendship has been built over a semester of these small gestures, and to say you didn’t love them would be an absolute lie.

“Caffeine is medically necessary.” Marcus jokes, picking up his own cup and taking another sip. It really is good, and he’s surprised by that considering he normally just drinks coffee black.

“It’s true.” Stepping further into the room, you pull one of the chairs away from the long tables that serve as desks and set it beside his desk at the front of the room to sit with him for a few minutes. “So…” The grin you flash him is teasing, but you are probably only going to get a few more times like this with him so you want to make the most of them. “How’s Missy and her girlfriend?”

Marcus shakes his head and winces. “I’m not okay with her dating.” He huffs, nearly pouting at the idea. “She was born like six months ago.”

“I just think it’s incredible that she came out to you so easily.” According to Marcus, he had come home from a day of teaching about a year ago to find Missy icing cupcakes with rainbow frosting as her own way of breaching the topic. It had been an immensely emotional night for them both. “Teenagers get rebellious over practically everything. It’s fantastic that she trusts you enough to tell you who she is and to tell you about this girl.”

“She knows I’m not going to change the way I look at her.” Marcus shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “She’s my little girl, and if I’m honest, there were signs since she was little.”

“That’s my point though.” You reason, picking up your coffee and humming at the taste. “She knows you love her no matter what. If I had come out to my parents at that age? I would have been lucky not to end up in therapy.”

“Oh, yeah, no, nothing like that at all.” It’s funny how swiftly the little arrow of intrigue or hope quickly pierced his heart. The small crush he had developed on you over the course of the class - despite the impropriety if it - crashing down. “I’m sorry you didn’t have supportive parents like that.”

“It’s fine now.” The way his face changes makes you want to scramble to recover, unsure of what you could possibly have said to upset him when you meant to pay him a compliment. “Being bisexual wasn’t even on their radar back then. They had no idea the word even existed let alone that it applied to their little girl.” You shrug, afraid you’ve offended him by accident. “I might as well have told them I was a Martian.”

Bisexual. While Marcus doesn’t sag in relief of the clarification, the angsty guilt over inappropriate thoughts of someone who would not be interested in a man ease. “It worked for Clark Kent, right? Though he was Krytonian.” He says, sending you a small smile. “No weirder than ‘hey mom, I can manipulate metal’. Right?”

“Honestly I think that would have been easier for her.” When you shrug again, you bury your face behind your coffee cup and studiously command yourself not to get too dreamy over that smile of his. “I just…you’re doing a great job. That’s all. Don’t downplay the fact that your teenage daughter is comfortable and confident in telling you who she is.”

“I never want her to feel like she can’t come to me for anything. Even if it was a boy and…birth control.” Marcus isn’t dumb, he knows what teenagers do, he was one of them once. Despite his Heroic future, hormones did drive a lot of his actions when he was around her age.

That earns him another small laugh from you, and you lean back in your chair. “Well I say points to this girl. If Missy’s anything like her dad then she’s amazing. And that means this girl is lucky as hell.”

He shuffles slightly, trying not to take the compliment for more than what it is. Reassurance. He lifts his coffee cup to his lips again to hide the grin he can’t quite suppress. “Thanks.” He murmurs. “Although it’s been a long time for me.”

“Oh?” It’s not as though you had dug through any of the gossip about him. That would have been disrespectful. But he was a well known celebrity when his wife passed away a few years ago and he had only stopped wearing his ring recently, by the band of untanned skin on his left finger. You had never pried for information, but you’re definitely curious.

He gives a small shrug of his shoulders. The pain of losing his late wife is still there, it always will be, but it’s not as devastating as it had been in the beginning. He would always love her, but he’s still living and she’s gone. “Not since Emily.” He confirms quietly. “Avoided the entire ‘widower pity sex’ that was surprisingly being pushed on me a lot more than I ever imagined.”

“I’m sorry things were pushed on you.” It’s not necessarily for you to apologize, but you can certainly express sympathy. “Being ready to put yourselves out there isn’t something you can rush. It takes time to heal.” Which is part of why you’ve kept your feelings deeply, deeply under wraps.

“A lot of it was because I needed time to heal, I didn’t want to change Missy’s life more than it already had been, and we were navigating our grief together.” Marcus had talked about a lot of this with his therapist, but it’s nice to have someone like you he can also talk to. “Plus, I was leaving the Heroics and starting to teach.”

“Your whole life changed.” You nod slightly, head bobbing with the motion. “When it changes again should be up to you and no one else.”

“Might be time.” Marcus admits, trying not to show how much that terrifies him. “Spend more time at home alone than I do with Missy. It’s…highlighted how reclusive I’ve become.”

"Might be?" You honestly would be embarrassed if he could hear how hard that makes your heart beat. It's not like he's talking about you, but you can't help the way it makes you feel.

“I’ve….thought about dating again.” He looks around the classroom for a moment before he finally looks at you again. “Think it’s a dumb idea?” He asks softly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His hands are starting to dampen and he quickly slides them against his darker pants.

"Why would that be dumb?" It's baffling that he would even ask that, since he's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life and an absolute angel of a human. "You deserve to be happy. Whatever that means for you. If dating against would make you happy, then..." Then you will dutifully sit and listen to him gush about whoever the luckiest woman in the world is, if he wants to stay friends. "Then whoever you choose will be incredibly lucky."

That buoys his confidence and he nods before he looks back down at his papers. “So-“

“Hey Professor Moreno!” His head snaps up to see one of the other students from your class practically bounce through the door, filled with nervous, flirty energy. He’s well aware that the girl had a crush on him and while he was flattered, she was vastly too young for him.

“Monica.” He greets her, making her beam as she slides over towards his desk. His eyes meet yours and he swears that he sees disappointment at being interrupted swimming in your orbs.

Right before the door opened you could have sworn he was going to say something to you - maybe even something sweet or flirtatious if your wildest dreams ever came true. But Monica is...determined...and she is right about to stare you down. "I should let you focus," you murmur, standing up with your coffee in one hand and your other on the back of your chair.

“You’re okay.” Marcus insists, actually more comfortable with you here rather than talking to Monica by herself. It was bad enough when she showed up for office hours. “What do you need?” He asks her, shifting into a more professional demeanor than he had with you.

"I was hoping to speak to you privately." Monica casts you a derisive glance and shifts her weight between her feet. "That's why I came early."

“Is it…about the coursework?” Marcus asks carefully. He doesn��t like the social aspect that some of the younger students try to draw him into.

"It is regarding senior week." Smoothing one hand down her front, Monica squares her shoulders and fairly glares at you. "I didn't think it would be appropriate to rub it in my classmate's face that she isn't graduating yet."

“It's fine." Even though you have no idea what you did to make Monica dislike you, you're not about to cause a fuss on the second-to-last day you might get to see Marcus. There's no room in your schedule next year to take one of his other classes and taking more criminal justice classes doesn't make any sense with your major anyway. You step back, taking your chair with you, to go put your books down at the table a few feet away.

“What can I help you with?” Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and frowns slightly. He doesn’t understand the animosity that seemingly rolls off of the younger girl towards you. It doesn’t make sense.

"As you know." Monica perks up immediately, feeling victorious at your retreat and Professor Moreno's attention being squarely on her. "Senior week always includes guests of honour from the staff and faculty." What she hopes he doesn't know is that the staff and faculty guests have already been chosen for the dinner dance. Otherwise her cover will be blown. "It would be very exciting if you would agree to come to the senior week dinner dance as a special guest." As her special guest, specifically, but Monica doesn't word it like that.

“Oh.” Marcus shuffles slightly and rocks on his heels as he looks around the classroom as he thinks about how to let this girl down. “While I am flattered…I am not able to attend.” He explains. “I am due to take my daughter to her grandparents across the state that night.”

"And it would be impossible to bring her earlier?" With a lack of understanding and empathy so obviously on display, Monica all but pouts. "It will be such a special night."

“I’m sure it will be.” Marcus frowns and his tone turns slightly frosty. “But my daughter will be getting out of school and wanting to see her mother’s parents.”

The young woman huffs, immaturity fully on display, and puts her hand on her hip like she's about to transform into a version of herself twenty years in the future that would be demanding to see his manager. "Whatever," she scoffs. "You have no idea what you'll be missing."

Marcus rocks his jaw, instantly transforming into the leader of the Heroics when he had dealt with the most stubborn of the other superhero’s. “Miss Anderson, I suggest you take your seat unless you wish to be dropped from the class.” He manages tightly. “Which will affect your own graduation date.”

The hmmphf from her is as pronounced as the pouty frown on her face, but Monica spins around, throwing you a dirty look in the process as she storms across the classroom to sit down and probably not pay much attention during this last study session Marcus will be leading.

Sighing softly, Marcus look down at the papers in front of him. Why couldn't someone just accept that a man who was old enough to be her father wasn't interested gracefully? He doesn't understand it.

His mood seems sour for the entire study session, and it’s not that you can’t understand why. Monica and the undergrad girls didn’t know how to take no for an answer, apparently. You do - at least you expect it - so you’ve just never asked the question. By the end of class you have to assume that his nerves are frayed and he won’t have the presence of mind for your usual lunch together, so you just start to pack up.

Once the class is over, Marcus looks over at you. Frowning slightly when he sees you move towards the door, he calls your name quickly. Unsure if you've changed your mind about walking to lunch together or if something has come up.

The last group of your classmates blows past you when you freeze three feet from the doorway and turn back. “I didn’t know if you’d be up to lunch,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish about it. “You seem preoccupied. I didn’t want to presume.”

"No, uh, I'm sorry." He deflates slightly and sighs. "I just- Monica." He gestures toward the door as if that explains it. "I don't understand. I'm too old for her."

“It’s a fantasy.” The way you shrug your shoulders is completely tense, like you have no intention whatsoever in admitting that you’ve had those same fantasies about him yourself. “They don’t see the reality of it. Only the glossy story they’ll tell their friends.”

"I guess." He won't deny that he had crushes on teachers and professors when he was younger, but he had never been so bold to think they would want him. "I just- I guess I think too much like a dad." He huffs at himself. "She's not that much older than Missy."

"I think that's thinking like a dad just the right amount." The door shuts behind the rest of your class and you shove your hands in your pockets with your bag high on your shoulder. "What did she...ask you? If you don't mind me asking?"

“She wanted me to go to the dinner dance as a special guest.” He picks up his own bag and tosses it on his shoulders. “Didn’t take the very polite ‘no’ very well.” He snorts. “She actually asked me if I could drop my daughter off at her grandparents another day.”

"That's...awkward." When you reach for the door handle this time it's to open it for him rather than to beat a hasty exit, and you follow him out the door. "And honestly, a little disrespectful."

“She doesn’t have to know that her grandparents live two hours away.” Marcus grins slyly, and shrugs.

"She shouldn't have been rude." The walk down the corridor is fairly quiet since the next class period has already started in this building, and you walk side-by-side with your professor one more time. "It was nice of you to try to let her down easy, even if she didn't let you, ultimately."

“I get having feelings you shouldn’t.” Marcus risks looking over at you for a second before he looks back down at the path in front of you. “For people you shouldn’t.”

“How so?” If you had seen him glance at you then you might have had some idea of what he meant, but you were busy trying not to trip over the obvious coffee spill left by a previous student.

Marcus sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ignores the looks from the students as the two of you walk through the campus. He doesn’t see a lot of the adoration that seems to be thrown his way. “She’s…it’s not like a younger student or anything. Not like Monica.”

“Oh? Oh! You’ve been—?” You can’t help the way your whole face falls, registering that apparently he’s been seeing another student and you didn’t ever know. As fast as your silly schoolgirl crush has grown over the course of the semester, you can feel it being stamped out with every new step you take down the corridor together. “Well, she’s…she’s very lucky…” You choke out, shoving your hands into your pockets with determination.

“No! No, I haven’t - I can’t, it’s not—” Marcus groans. “She’s my student, I haven’t thought it was…appropriate to ask her out.” He rolls his eyes at himself, wondering where were those fucking balls of steel he had to have when saving the world when he needs them now. “I- it would have been wrong, right? But I have been thinking about it.”

“I mean…I guess it depends?” Even though it crushes your heart more than a little to debate this with him, he’s your friend and…and ultimately you want him to be happy. And some people might argue that that is a blaring siren for having feelings, but that’s a moot point now. “It’s the end of the semester, so…theoretically I guess it would depend on the relationship you have with this girl outside of…ya know…the classroom.”

"I think we're pretty good." Marcus inhales softly. "We've spent some time together, a lot less than I'd like, but I guess I don't know what she thinks about it."

“Then you should probably ask her.” And tonight, when you go home to pour yourself a glass of wine for studying, you’ll use your really big wine glass to mourn the passing of the chance you never got. “You can’t know unless you ask.”

"Yeah....." Fundamentally, Marcus knows that. And it's not like you are giving much away with your answers so he can't even use that to judge how you would react. "I need to, but I'm also worried about it changing things for the worse."

“I can’t see anyone turning you down,” you admit, feeling your voice drop a little and your shoulders slump. If you were brave enough to take your own advice, then you wouldn’t be walking at his side listening to him theorize about asking out another woman.

“So…..how do you feel about driving up the coast?” Marcus ventures softly. “Thought we could take a little ride, find a nice roadside spot to eat? Look out over the water.”

It takes you a long moment to register what he’s saying, but when you finally do, your head ticks up and you freeze in your steps, doing your best not to stare while you try to remember how to speak. “Wait, I— me?” You ask, so bewildered that your voice jumps and you’re pointing at your own chest. “You meant me?”

“Shit, I knew this was going to happen. You don’t- it’s okay.” Marcus quickly reassures you. “You don’t have to, I - it won’t affect your grade, they are done anyway. I- just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No! N-no, I meant— I didn’t realize you liked me, too.” And if you could bury your head in the ground in embarrassment right now, you absolutely would. “Please, you don’t…don’t take it back? I’d love to go.”

“Are you sure?” Both you and Marcus have stopped walking and he turns towards you. “I don’t- you don’t have to, I just- I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and….” He blows out a huff of laughter. “I’d like to get to know you more now that you aren’t my student.”

“I’m really sure.” If it were possible to show him exactly how much without seeming overeager - or worse, desperate - you absolutely would, but right now you’re just smiling so hard you feel like your face might split. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you too, and I…” Flustered, you end up laughing at the way the two of you stammer out insistences and reassurances, and you just nod. “Why don’t we say next weekend? Final will be over and I’ll officially no longer be your student in any way.”

“Missy will be with her grandparents.” Marcus nods. “And I’ll officially not be your professor. So there’s nothing improper about it anymore.”

“I don’t even think you’re capable of being improper.” The little tease makes you grin, knowing that you might have said it before but now it’s flirting.

Marcus flushes slightly, aware that some of his thoughts were far from proper. “You’d be surprised.” He huffs, both of you starting to walk towards the food court again.

“Oh yeah?” It seems so improbable, and you laugh softly while you walk. “Are you telling me the world’s most wholesome retired superhero has a rebellious side?”

Marcus snorts, “well, Emily was about three months pregnant with Missy when we got married…” He offers in way of proof. “And despite my mama’s objections, I still have my motorcycle.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re the one who has been Clark Kent-ing this whole time?” You raise an intrigued eyebrow at him as you walk, but keep your hand stuffed firmly in your pocket so you don’t do something stupid like reach for him out of excitement. “The real Marcus is wandering hands and engine grease?” Oh god…both versions sound amazing…

Marcus smirks at the comparison and there might be a slight air of cockiness to his shrug. “There’s a difference between the public image and the private man, let’s just say that.” He offers. This is why he’s enjoyed your company, he loves being able to talk to you. No expeditions, no judgment. It’s vastly different from a lot of his other interactions with people and he loves it.

"Color me intrigued." And honestly a little turned on, but you'll keep that to yourself for now. The dining hall is just up ahead and it's just beginning to be busy, as people like you and Marcus who are filing out of your midmorning classes are lured in by the smell of lunch.

“Is that a good intrigued or have 9-1-1 on speed dial intrigued?” Marcus jokes, lunging forward to open the door for you when you both get close enough.

You knew he would get the door. He always does. In fact, he glared at you when you had tried to do it yourself a few weeks ago - as though you should certainly know better by now. “I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It could be fun. Or it might be terrifying.”

“Wellllllll, that was kinda the plan, if you want.” Marcus admits, a slightly boyish grin on his face. “Have you wrap your arms around me and hang on while we ride.”

“No dress. Got it.” Wrap your arms around him and hang on? Apparently when this man flirts he has the ability to make you weak in the knees and nearly pout with just a few sentences. “I have a very definite feeling that I’m going to like motorcycles.”

Marcus can’t help the slightly dirty way his grin turns. “Better than a washing machine.” He hums.

“Marcus!” The scandalized laugh that makes it out of you is practically giddy to see this side of him and you stick close to his side once you’re in the bustling main dining hall. “Maybe I do want to wear a dress, in that case.”

Marcus chuckles and looks over the options for the day and then at you. “What are you feeling today?” He asks. “They have that grilled chicken salad you like.”

“And they have gyro today,” you point up at the menu and offer him a shy smile, Realizing for the first time how much he’s really absorbed about you personally over the course of the semester. “Just try telling me that’s not your favorite. I dare you to lie.”

“Only because you start singing that song every time I sit down with it.” Marcus huffs, flushing slightly.

“‘Holding Out for a Gyro’ is the best parody song ever written.” You shrug your shoulders proudly. “Sorry, Weird Al. I win this one.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “And it’s funny every time I hear it.” He enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you. “If it’s aided by a delicious meal? That makes it even better.”

“Then I think we’ve got to do it.” He’s so relaxed now, and you wonder how many times when you were in line like this or sitting with coffee, did he feel the tension of attraction the same way you did? It’s a relief to know it wasn’t one sided after all. “For old time’s sake.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus shoots you a smirk, and nods towards your line. “Meet you at the table we normally have?” It’s not an assigned table, but the corner table is rarely occupied when you have lunch together.

"Absolutely." To have anything be both of yours sends a shiver of excitement through you and you try not to giggle or anything similarly giddy. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Making his way over to the correct station, he can’t help but seek you out. Telling himself that it’s just because he wants to make sure you aren’t waiting for him for too long, he can’t help but grin when your eyes find him and you smile.

You tell yourself that the butterflies are because it’s new, and because new is exciting. It’s not because you’re expecting anything, or even know if the date will go well. But your instincts are good and your intuition is worth listening to - and that gut you’ve spent years cultivating is telling you that this could be the start of something amazing if you let it.

You get your salad before Marcus gets his own food, making him watch you as he walks towards the table where you are already settling in. “Do you need napkins?” You always forget them and it’s a little habit that he has developed to grab more.

“You know I do.” He’s attentive. It’s something you’ve grown to appreciate about him during the time you’ve been getting to know him. “Just like I know you didn’t grab a fork and you’re going to regret it when that wrap gets messy halfway through.” The Extra fork on your tray is ready and waiting just like the extra napkins on his.

“Look at us playing to each other’s weaknesses.” Marcus chuckles, knowing that he will be using the fork. He always does and yet every time he doesn’t get one when the utensils are next to the napkins.

“I like to think of it as paying attention.” You counter, moving things around your tray to get it set up just the way you like. “We’ve both found each other worth paying attention to.”

“At least you also paid attention in class.” Marcus snorts, opening up the cup of extra tzatziki sauce he always asks for, along with extra pickled red onions. “You have one of the top five grades. Seriously, you should pursue criminal justice.”

“It would be a hell of a gear change from teaching high school English.” The cup of vinaigrette that comes with your chicken salad is unceremoniously dumped into the container and you pop the lid back on to shake it up and get everything evenly coated. “I honestly took the class because I love mysteries so much. I thought taking something about fighting crime would be fun.” You hadn’t even known who was teaching it when you signed up. Finding out you had Marcus for a professor was a delightful surprise.

“I think it’s a good idea to have everyone take at least one class.” Marcus knows you know this. It was basically his opening speech to his class. “Knowing about our system is necessary.”

"I completely agree." The discussions about how neither of you understand the resistance to understanding how the country you live in works have happened a few times over the last few months, usually in regard to a classmate saying something ignorant or someone illustrating a cultural difference between the US and the culture they grew up in. Discussions could either feel like you were banging your head against a wall or you could learn something truly interesting.

“So..” Marcus looks over at you as he scrapes the rest of the sauce out onto his gyro. “Are you ready for the summer? Or are you taking more courses?” He knows you are working towards your degree while working, so he’s not sure how it looks for you.

"I have a second job lined up for the summer. I'll keep busy and pocket as much money as I can." Working through the busy summer tourist season has always treated you well, and the company you work with has no problem accommodating your class schedule or your other job. "I'm on track to graduate next year as long as I don't run into a problem with any of my senior classes, so I'll spend my summer working and trying to get ahead in my reading if any of my professors are willing to hand out their reading lists early." It was the first email you always sent to a professor - asking if they wouldn't mind sending a reading list to you ahead of the start of the semester - and usually it helped establish you as a serious student early on. Being a slow reader meant you had to be prepared.

“Let me know what classes you are taking and I’ll be able to tell you what most of them have set out.” Marcus offers. “It’s good to have a jump on things.” It’s not just an offer because you’re going out on a date with him. He would offer it to any serious student. Just many of them hadn’t wanted to go beyond the unsubtle flirting.

“I’m a slow reader.” You shrug, digging your fork into your salad. “Taking a lot of classes that require extensive reading. Especially next year.” The first bite of your lunch is bright and crisp and refreshing as always, and you just let yourself enjoy it for a minute while you chew. “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Any big summer plans with Missy?”

“Missy’s going to be with her grandparents most of the summer.” Marcus admits, hating that he will miss her, but she needs to spend time with Emily’s family. He was always welcomed, but he wanted her to bond with them without having dad hanging around.

“Oh?” He looks like he’s not thrilled with the idea, but you know how much he loves his daughter and he’s probably just aware of how much he’ll miss her - something you can’t blame him for in the least. That does, however, leave your mind open to think about very specific things…like spending the night together without having to worry about preteen eyes or ears.

“Yeah. So I’m going to be doing a lot of reading by the pool.” Marcus predicts. “Retirement from the Heroics left a lot of downtime that I hadn’t expected when I went into teaching.”

“It sounds relaxing, at least.” Would you kill to see Marcus lounging lazily, sunbathing shirtless with a book and a beer on any random summer day? It sounds like a dream. “If you want a change of scenery, sometimes the country club I work at gives us guest passes on slow days. You could read by a different pool if you wanted to?”

“So you’re inviting me to sit by your pool…” Marcus grins. “How good are your piña coladas?”

“Marcus I’m a bartender.” You pretend to be scandalized but just end up giggling when you take a sip of your drink. “My piña coladas are flawless, thank you very much.”

“I guess I will have to try them for myself.” Marcus teases, sending you a small wink. “Have you serving me frozen beverages all summer?”

"In my extremely sexy polo shirt and khaki shorts." The snort he gets from you is pure amusement, but the way you're smiling is so very, very pleased. Having him actively flirt with you is turning into a happy little puddle. "You'd be the only one actually allowed to leer."

“I will keep all my leering respectful.” He promises playfully. “Although you might be embarrassed to have such an old man flirt with you in public, even if you are used to it all the time.”

"If you're hanging out at the club this summer, then I'm assuming it will be because we've decided to keep seeing each other." And that thought alone makes you nearly giddy. "In which case I will be proud to have you respectfully leering while I work."

Marcus hums and picks up his gyro. “Then we will have to see if we are as good outside of ‘just friendly’ as I think we will be.” He tells you before he takes his first bite and groans at the flavors.

"I guess we will." You grin at him, forking up another bite of your lunch, and barely keep yourself from outright giggling. Next week can't come fast enough.

******

The nerves that come with getting ready for a ‘first date’ for the first time in nearly twenty years catches Marcus off guard. Panicking in the shower as he wonders if he’s made the date too casual, too presumptuous. What if you hate motorcycles? Should he just have made reservations somewhere? He runs through every single scenario in his mind until he’s nearly jittery.

He has no way of knowing that you've been sitting giddily in your apartment - busying yourself here and there with cleaning or changing your outfit four times or staring at the first page of a new book for a half hour and only reading the same sentence over and over again because you're too excited to focus. As seven o'clock ticks closer and closer, there is just less and less chance of you concentrating on anything except thinking of Marcus.

The ride over to your apartment complex is easy and surprisingly quick. You don’t live too far away from him and the implications that spring from that have him reminding himself that it’s just the first date. Swinging his leg over the bike as he shuts it off, he smirks to himself as he looks back at the helmet he had strapped to the back for you to wear. It’s a gorgeous evening for a ride and the setting sun in a few hours would look amazing as you cruise along the coast.

You practically jump when the buzzer goes off, beating a hasty route from the bathroom mirror - where you were quadruple checking the claim that your new lipstick is transfer-proof - to the hall. “Hello?” Trying to sound carefree instead of out of breath, your voice pitches up one too many octaves when you press the button to answer.

“Hey.” Marcus grins at how breathless you sound, wondering if you are just as nervous as he is. “Can I come up, or do you want me to wait down here?” If you decide to just come down, that’s completely your choice and he won’t judge you either way.

"Come on up!" Having decided thirty seconds ago to change your shoes from flats to boots for the sake of the bike you hope he brought, you push the buzzer to let him in and scramble to your bedroom to grab your knee-high boots.

Marcus grins, opening the door and deciding to take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator since you are only on the second floor. Eager to see you and get the date started. The only reason there aren’t flowers in his hand, is because they wouldn’t survive the ride over but maybe the one flower he does have silk charm you.

The knock on your door comes barely two minutes later and you've barely zipped up your boots when you answer it. Marcus has always dressed up for his time on campus, but today he has a leather jacket thrown over his untucked green button-up and boots peeking out from under his jeans where he would normally wear Oxford. The difference is slight, but it's mouthwatering. "Hey." One little word, but it's all you can manage when you're grinning from ear to ear like a lunatic. "Come on in."

“Hey.” He wipes his hands on his pants, slightly nervous as he steps inside. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. “You look great. Like really good.” He compliments.

“So do you.” He’s so obviously nervous that it makes you smile, relaxing in the moment when you remember how long it’s been for him. Having you be equally nervous isn’t going to help him at all. “Let me just grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Marcus clears his throat and reaches into the pocket of his riding jacket. “So flowers, fresh beautiful ones, are standard for a first date - but they wouldn’t have survived the ride over.” He offers as he pulls out the lone metal rose he had brought you. “So I hope you aren’t disappointed by this.”

“Marcus…” Twisted and pulled from glossy metal into the form of a single blooming rose, the bud is a gorgeous example of artistry all on its own. It speaks to care because it’s so delicate, and an eye for beauty, and you gasp softly when you accept it from his hands. “It’s stunning.”

“I made it.” Why did he just volunteer that? He huffs slightly at his fucking inability to act like a normal man for just one second. “It’s- yeah, I just wanted you to have a flower.”

“Just because you don’t wear a uniform anymore, that doesn’t change who you are as a person.” It’s part of why you like him so much, if you’re honest with yourself. His being a hero isn’t all about his powers. He is fundamentally a good man.

“That’s very true.” He likes the fact that you have a very practical mindset about it. Some wouldn’t and it just means you are even more special than he had anticipated.

Out on the sidewalk in front of your building, his bike is easy to spot. The lone motorcycle in a parking lot of practical and family vehicles, it practically screams to be noticed and you love it. “I was hoping you were serious about bringing it.”

“Good.” Marcus practically beams at giddiness in your eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve had time to go for a ride and figured it would be the perfect evening for it.”

“Absolutely perfect.” You couldn’t agree more, happily taking the second helmet from the back of his bike when he hands it to you.

Once you are as safe as you can be, Marcus straddles the bike and pulls it off the standing peg. “Get on behind me and hang on as tight as you want.”

“Dangerous thing to say to the woman who’s had a crush on you for the better part of five months.” The gentle laugh as you carefully climb into the back of the bike and wrap your arms around him is mostly teasing - but only mostly. Because you’d been lusting after him on TV for a lot longer than that.

Marcus chuckles as he starts the bike with a loud roar. Maybe showing off just slightly. He has backed into the parking spot so he can just take off with the twist of his wrist and he grins at the bubble of giggling that bursts out behind him as your arms tighten instinctively.

It’s a quick zip from your building to the Pacific Coast Highway. No more than a few minutes in the residential area puts you out enjoying the Southern California’ coastal salt air instead of smog. Each turn he takes hits right in the pit of your stomach and brings another bubble of giggles from your throat and you just hope he can hear them over the roar of the engine. Even if the night was just this - just riding around with him as your anchor - you would completely love it.

Marcus doesn’t try to speed and break your neck as he coasts along the Highway. This is about the leisure of the trip. Enjoying the scenery and he can feel you gasp when he takes one hand off the handlebars to point out some whales breaching just off the rocky coast.

It’s silly. It’s silly to worry. You’re with one of the world’s only literal superheroes. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you still clutch him a little bit tighter whenever he lets go of the handlebars to point. The smile on his face is free and easy and he seems to love the gasps from your lips, so you don’t bother feeling embarrassed. If you were nervous it’s already melted away. Being with Marcus is easy.

He doesn’t know how long you cruise, maybe an hour, hour and a half before he throttle down slightly. “When you see somewhere you want to eat, let me know!” He turns his head back towards you and shouts it so you can hear.

A little further up the road, a brightly painted seafood shack with a cartoon lobster wearing a captain’s hat on its sign. “Right there!” You call through the engine and wind noise, barely letting go of him long enough to point. It looks unpretentious and like it hasn’t changed owners or gimmicks in decades. Perfect for your breezy, relaxed evening ride.

“Okay.” Marcus immediately slows down more, letting go of the handle bars again to give the signal for his turn as he guides the two of you into the parking lot.

You could swear you’re still vibrating when he cuts the engine and your feet are on solid ground again, but it’s not rattling or uncomfortable. It’s like a very tangible adrenaline buzz running all through your body and - yes, definitely shooting right between your legs.

“You okay?” Marcus asks as soon as he takes off his own helmet and sets it down on the back of the bike. It might not be cool to some to wear protection, but he’s got his daughter to think of. And despite his best efforts at trying to stay inconspicuous, sometimes he was photographed in public, not the example he wants to set for the younger generations.

“That was amazing.” The shit-eating grin on your face promises that you’re not lying, and you let him gently unbuckle your helmet to lift it away and set it with his as you stand up.

“Well, why don’t we have whatever tickles our fancy and then we can find a shaved ice place or ice cream stand?” He offers.

"Sounds pretty perfect." A dressed down night like this - something that's more about who you're with than what you're doing - is exactly the right kind of first date to you.

“Good.” His hand finds your back, up under your jacket by sheer coincidence as he moves you towards the small shack. “Maybe we can eat outside?” He offers.

"Why eat by the ocean if you can't see the water at the same time?" His hand is warm through the thin material of your dress and you unconsciously shift closer to him as you walk inside.

“My thoughts exactly.” Marcus grins. “Order a beer if you want, I’m going to have a soda since I’m the one driving.”

The place is simple - just a window with a huge menu board over it where you place your order and a counter a few yards down where you can pick up your filled order when your name is called. Tables inside are simple plastic with matching chairs, and outside there are picnic tables to extend the seating by another dozen or so tables. A plate of fish tacos and local beer sounds like the most Californian meal you've eaten in a long time, and perfect for tonight.

“God, everything smells so good.” He groans, practically drooling at the menu board. “Do you want to get a bunch of things and split them?” He asks.

"You're on." By the time you get up to the window to order you've picked out three or four things that sound amazing - not the least of which is the fish tacos which are marked on the menu as award winning. Your beer will be on the tray when it comes up but Marcus is given a cup for his soda and is pointed toward the drink fountain while you wait.

"What kind goes best with what we ordered?" He hums playfully as he surveys the soda options. There are a few but he's just playing around, seeing if you will point out your favorite. His theory is that you would take a sip of it if he picks that one. So you just aren't drinking beer.

“Hmmmm.” Pretending to think excruciatingly hard about it, you shrug your shoulders playfully and tap the Sprite logo currently staring you in the face. “It’s a palate cleanser,” you reason when he raises one eyebrow to ask for an explanation. “Bright, citrusy, sweet but not as heavy as Mountain Dew or root beer.” It’s also your favorite, but he doesn’t need to know that. Having a favorite soda is silly at your age.

"Good choice." Marcus actually agrees with your assessment and immediately starts adding ice so he can fill the cup with Sprite. "Kind of like having white wine with chicken or beer with chicken wings." He grins and winks at you as he fills the cup.

“The extremely low rent version of that,” you laugh though, leaning against the counter as he fills his cup. “But I like the low rent versions of things. Just because something is fussier doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better.”

"I always believe there are times to be fancy and then there are times to just be...happy." Marcus shrugs. "I figured that the first date should be easy and light, not stuffy in a fancy restaurant where we are bored to death and unable to find things to eat that we can pronounce."

"Now that is a theory I can get behind entirely." You snag him a paper straw from the container next to the drink dispenser and send him one of those winks that he seems so fond of, just to be playful. "Although I do speak passable Italian."

"You do?" That is new information and he's delighted to learn that. It's charming to know that about you and he grins as he nods. "I can see it. Have you traveled to Italy?"

"I never got to." It's a regret, to be sure, but you made up your mind a while ago to not let those things drag you down anymore. It's been too long. "The first time I was in college, I was an art history major. Most of my focus was on the Italian Renaissance, so Italian was kind of necessary."

“I see.” Marcus nods. “Maybe you will be able to visit once you have your degree.” He offers, knowing that traveling to foreign countries is important.

"Once I have my degree this time, I hope I'll be able to find a good job." The best you can really do is shrug, pretending that you hadn't had to set aside several lifelong dreams when you dropped out of college the first time around. As short a life as it had been then, you've always been a dreamer. "It's okay." Not wanting to bring the mood down, you offer him a sunny smile and turn to wait for his name to be called at the counter. "I'll get there someday."

"I don't doubt it for a second." Marcus promises you with a smile. You are tenacious and he knows you will make it happen for yourself. "How many more of your classes are you shy of graduating?" He asks, as he stands beside you.

"Seven." It sounds like so much and so little all at once, and you stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket to resist the insane urge you have to hold his hand. "One more full year, basically. But I have a spot open in case I don't pass something this semester and need to retake."

"That's a smart thing to do." He is impressed with the way that you are thinking ahead. "Sometimes you don't pass the first time around, I know I couldn't pass my freshman statistics course to save my life."

“I took Intro to Botany for my science general ed thinking it would at least be interesting.” But from your cringe, he can tell that that isn’t true. “It turned out to be both insanely difficult and insanely boring. Which is a shame.”

"Yeah...." Marcus shakes his head. "I'm not the biggest fan of that class." He doesn't like professor Issacs, but you don't need to know that. He's never particularly cared for him, finding him pompous and egotistical without contributing much to the faculty. He seemed to make the course load harder for his students than it needed to be.

“Well, if Isaacs decides to flunk me, it’ll be Earth Sciences in fall, instead.” Which you probably should have done in the first place, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. “How’s your grading looking? Staring down the barrel of a hundred and fifty tests and papers?”

"I actually have it down to a science." Marcus tells you with a small grin. "I should be done with grading by Sunday at the latest."

“Look at you, Professor Smarty Pants. You’ll have to teach me your tricks if I ever actually become a teacher.” You tease, grinning when the girl behind the counter calls his name, looks up, and recognizes him.

“Moreno?” She asks, stunned and wide eyes. “Marcus Moreno?” Her voice manages to go up several octaves. “I- oh my god!”

Taking his drink and grabbing some napkins and utensils is the most helpful thing you can do, and you watch with a smile as Marcus shakes the girl’s hand and chats with her for a second before grabbing the tray with your dinner. He’s in his element with people - any kind of people - and you always get a warm sort of pride whenever you’re with him when he’s recognized. Despite having no claim on him but friendship, you’re still proud of him.

Marcus listens to the girl gush, he had apparently saved her about five years ago, right before he had quit going out into the field with the other Heroics. Making him recall the incident and he smiles as she thanks him for what he had done, shaking his head and claiming that it had been nothing. Grateful that you aren’t annoyed that he’s having time taken away from the date. When he finally comes back over to you, he gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You push the door open to go outside and let him go through first with the tray. “You’ve saved people's lives. You saved that girl’s life. That’s no small thing. Not at all.”

“It’s bad, but I don’t remember her.” Marcus feels guilty, but it’s the truth. There were a lot of people that day.

“And she never has to know that.” There is one picnic table closer to the water than the others, and you both move toward it instinctively. “I can’t imagine you remembering every person you ever saved. But I’m sure they'll all remember you for the rest of their lives.”

“It’s daunting.” Marcus admits. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I don’t crave attention.” He snorts. “I’m not Miracle Guy.”

“No one is.” You smirk, knowing Miracle Guy’s reputation for tooting his own horn.

Marcus chuckles at your expression and shrugs slightly. “He’s got quite the fan club.”

“And he loves it. But fame isn’t everyone’s first choice.” At the table you set everything out between you and sit side by side so you can both look out over the water while you eat. “For what it’s worth? I like you just as you are.”

“Well thank you.” Marcus moves your beer over to you and grins. “While we eat, maybe you can tell me why you chose teaching?”

“Have we never talked about that?” He shakes his head when you ask and you pop the cap off your beer. “Teaching was always on my radar.” You tell him, figuring that’s the best place to start. “I thought about teaching art, originally. But when I was taking care of my mom…the thing that she had the most energy for was books. We would read together constantly, until it was just me reading to hear and we would talk about every chapter and every book together. It was our own private book club, and I fell in love with literature all over again.”

"I like that." Marcus hates the fact that it seems like your mother is gone, he can't even imagine losing his mother right now although his father died when he was twelve, but he reaches out and takes your hand. "I'm sure that those memories are the ones that she cherished the most." He murmurs softly.

It’s not exactly the way you wanted it to happen - out of sympathy instead of excitement - but you look down at his large hands covering yours and smile. “She was my best friend,” you tell him, aware that your voice has dropped a little. “And I just hope I’m making her proud.”

“Doing exactly what you want to do and living your life how you want to live it is exactly what would make a parent proud.” He knows not all parents subscribe to that, but he feels like your mother would, considering how you’ve turned out.

“Thanks.” You shake your head, almost trying to release the cobwebs from the corners of your mind. “Sorry…I…I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“You’re not bringing the mood down.” Marcus assures you, almost instantly. “Talking about our lives and what has happened is learning about each other. It’s the human condition that none of us are without personal tragedy.”

“I suppose.” Not wanting to let go just yet, you take a sip of your drink with your other hand. “Although most men would not feel that way on a first date. So thank you for being your compassionate self.”

“I am no stranger to things like this.” Marcus reminds you softly. “Do you know how many people hit on me at my wife’s funeral? And then didn’t understand why I was angry at them?”

“Are you serious?” The worst part is that you can imagine it. People offering to comfort the grieving widower with varying degrees of subtlety and lewdness. “That’s…that’s despicable, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s done.” Marcus rubs his thumb in the back of your hand gently. “But I’ve learned that there are really good people in the world too, and you’re one of them.” He tells you with a soft smile.

“I really like you.” Though it comes out inelegantly, and you can feel your cheeks burn when you fear it, the sentiment is honest. “I mean…obviously. Since I’m here with you. But I guess I mean…I’m glad that you feel that way. Because the time that I’ve been able to spend with you is the happiest that I’ve been in a really long time.”

"That's good." He lights up, grinning broadly and can't quite hide the way his chest puffs out slightly at your praise of him and the time you have spent together. A lot of it has been innocent but it's a building block for what he wants. More.

With the air slightly clearer between you, you dig into your dinner with enthusiasm. The little roadside seafood shack is playing with no less than its A-game so everything is fresh and delicious. The sea is calm, treating you to crisp breezes and the occasional creature-sighting, and little joke after little joke piles up to have you both in a fit of giggles by the time the meal winds down. In your entire life a first date has never been this relaxed or fun, and you're starting to think that maybe you've just been dating the wrong people all along.

Marcus leans back and sighs. “Well, want to continue on and find our dessert stand?” He asks playfully, rubbing his stomach. “Or do you not have room?”

"There is always room for dessert." You tell him, with an air that you're giving some kind of sage wisdom. "Especially cold desserts on warm nights." It will be sundown soon and the mid-May sun is only just starting to lose power. "Do you know a place or are we driving until we find one?" Either way is fine with you. Either way is time spent with him.

“I’m kinda winging it.” Marcus admits with a grin. “Trying to be more spontaneous? Missy said I shouldn’t plan everything out like I do normally.”

"You told Missy?" Admittedly, you had been afraid to ask if he was going to or not, knowing that his relationship with his daughter means the world to him. You wouldn't have been surprised or offended if he had chosen to hold off on telling her about you until it became more serious. The fact that he did - that you seem to be important enough to him to have her know about you - floods you with warmth and joy.

“She’s the one that told me I needed to stop…how did she put it? “Being a wuss’ and ask you out.” He chuckles as he stands from the table and picks up the tray that you’ve both deposited all the trash from your dinner onto. He’ll throw it away and return the tray before getting back on the bike with you.

"Your daughter and my roommate." You can't help but chuckle a little, walking with him to the trash bins to chuck your beer bottle in the recycles. "Well...I'm glad one of us listened to our advice giver. I'm pretty sure I would have been too chicken when push came to shove."

“I was half convinced that I was making up the entire thing in my head.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “That maybe you just felt sorry for me and that’s why you ate lunch with me.”

"Not at all." The fact that he thought it, though, shows his humility. "Actually, at first I thought the reverse. That you were taking pity on your weird student who was older than everybody else by being friendly."

“God no.” Marcus breathes out. “You saved my sanity. Having someone who was understanding that it’s insane for all these girls to be wanting me?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s a group of them that started calling me ‘daddy’ and I just-“ he shrugs and laughs in that defeated and disbelieving kind of way. “Why?”

When you snort to keep from bursting out laughing, you can only hold up your hand to apologize. “Marcus, it’s because you’re hot. A sexy guy in a position of authority with a nurturing personality is a recipe for being a daddy.”

“But…I—” He trails off and his eyes widen slightly in realization. “Dear God.” He huffs after a long moment of silence.

“It’s a compliment,” you promise, looping your arm around him and hugging him while you desperately try to keep the laughter inside. “A slightly weird one, but a compliment nonetheless.”

“They do realize that I would never actually….date them, right?” He asks. “It would be so wrong.” Most of his class are seniors but the age gap widens every year and now there’s only three or four years between the freshman class and his daughter.

“The reasonable ones do. The less reasonable ones don’t care. That’s not the point.” Together you walk back around the tiny restaurant and out to the parking lot, but Marcus doesn’t move away from you so you keep your hand on him while you go. “They’ll get it out of their systems eventually and then you won’t have to hear it anymore. Besides, I think the ringleaders of that particular nickname are all graduating this year.” One of them was Monica, you know that for sure. But she’ll be graduated and gone in no time.

“Hopefully.” Marcus looks over at you, “although I wouldn’t mind a certain former student dropping by sometimes when she has time.” He teases.

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, unable to resist screwing with him just a little. “I’ll let Monica know. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Do it and you’ll buy your own ice cream.” Marcus threatens playfully. He doesn’t mean it, but the idea of Monica haunting his office hours after graduation is almost enough to make his time by virtual connection only.

“That’s a very serious threat, you know.” You’re giggling when you make it to his bike, practically doubled over with it just from the mortified look on his face. “Of course I’ll drop by office hours. How else am I going to say hi?” Doing your best not to count on anything - or to get your hopes up too high - you have ended up just sort of assuming that he won’t want to go on another date after tonight. That it will be too weird for him or you won’t be as good as what he has built up in his mind before now. It’s helping to keep your expectations grounded, because your hopes are already imagining what it will be like to get to know his daughter.

“Welllllllll, I guess we could communicate through mirrors and reflections, smoke signals, or pigeon carriers.” Marcus snorts. “But I was hoping it would include the occasional phone call, or visit in person. I’ll even text.”

"I would pay money to see Missy teaching you how to text." That starts up the giggles again, but in a much more lighthearted way. "Look, Marcus..." You manage not to sigh, thank god, but your tone does trend a bit more serious. All fears aside for you, you know that he hasn't dated in an extremely long time and deserves some reassurance. "I told you that I really like you and I meant it. So if you decide you want to keep seeing me after tonight? I'm a commitment girl. So dropping by your office with snacks or to spend some time together will be a given."

“I know how to text.” Marcus grumbles, pouting at you slightly. “I just don’t. There’s no inflection. And how can I convey emotion?” He reaches out to take the helmet you had worn off the back of the bike to put it back on you. “I think this date is going really well, how about you?” He asks. “So I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to see you again.”

"If I tell you that I'm having a great night but trying not to set my expectations too high, do I get to see that cute pout again?" The fact that he sets the helmet on you and buckles it in place so he knows you're safe is about the cutest thing ever.

Just to get you to grin again, he does the pout again. Holding it for a few seconds before he shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was thinking that you should set the expectations sky high.” He rumbles dramatically.

'My hopes are sky high," you assure him, feeling daring enough to reach out and touch his arm again even if it's only briefly. "But I know this is a big step for you, so I didn't want you to feel pressured."

“I don’t.” He promises, reaching up and chucking your chin softly before he glances down at your lips. “Not at all. Although there’s some pressure, it’s not something you have to worry about unless you want to.”

"What do you mean?" Tilting your head to one side, you don't miss the way he glances down at your lips, though the innuendo goes straight over your head.

He chuckles quietly and lets go of your chin. “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself.” He teases, turning back and grabbing his own helmet. “Let me know when you got it worked out.”

"Well that's not fair." It's your turn to pout now, just as playfully. "I have no talent for double meanings, if my roommate is to be believed."

“Really?” He turns back around and smirks at you. “If you don’t figure it out by the time I drop you off at your place, I’ll let you in on the pressure.”

"You're enjoying this too much." But it's amusing rather than anything else, and you nudge him playfully.

“Maybe a little.” He chuckles as he climbs back on the bike and motions you over. “Climb back on, sweetheart.”

If teasing you is what keeps that smile on his face then you are all for it. You just shake your head to make him laugh again and swing your leg back over the back of his bike. Your arms slide easily around his waist this time with no hesitation in the thing, and you giggle all over again when the engine roars to life.

“Want to go a little faster this time?” Marcus yells over his shoulder.

"Go for it!" There's no question you'll be safe with him, and the adrenaline from the ride is definitely worth it, so you just hold on a little tighter.

“Hang on!” Marcus laughs as he kicks the peg up and twists the throttle of the bike hard enough to lurch you out of the parking spot and make you squeal in surprise.

Back on the highway Marcus picks up the pace, moving you through traffic with expert handling and a fearlessness that goes straight past anything worrying and directly to being such a damn turn on.

This time there’s less talking, more wind buffering around you. Marcus loves the feeling of it, having spent plenty of time wishing he had the skill of flying like Miracle Guy, but this is a close second. He grins as you squeeze him tight and he lets go of one handlebar to cover your hands with his own as he carries you further up the coast.

The colors of sunset are just starting to appear on the horizon when Marcus points out a sign for an ice cream stand up ahead. His hand has been warm on yours whenever it's been safe for him to have it there, and you could swear that the warmth radiating off of him in waves has changed somehow. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Throttling down, he pulls into the parking lot of the ice cream stand, happy that it seems moderately busy on this beautiful night. Even better, there’s benches facing the ocean to sit and eat. “Now are you a sundae kind of girl or a cone?” He asks playfully.

"Yes to both," you laugh honestly. You both take off your helmets and pop off the bike to stretch your legs, but stick close to each other while other people bustle around having fun. "But tonight feels like a cone night. Much easier for sitting and watching the water with."

“I agree.” Marcus can’t help but touch you again, keeping his hand on your back again. “Figure once we finish up here, we’ll turn around and start heading back to L.A. Don’t want you too sore from riding too long.”

"Sure. We got a perfect night for a few more hours of driving." Though you have no desire to see the night end, you're not trying to monopolize every second of his time. Or at least you wouldn't admit to wanting it. For now you just keep close and lean into his side a little as you stroll toward the stand overlooking the water.

“It’s also a good reason to stop at these stands.” He looks over at you and smirks. “If you aren’t used to it, it’s a real workout on your hips and thighs.”

"Some things are worth being sore for." It's amazing the way you miss even your own innuendo, but there it is. The words don't even register a second meaning on their way out of your mouth.

Marcus waits a beat for you to smirk, but you don’t. Giving credence to your claim that you don’t get secondary meanings. “Yep.” He chuckles. “Let’s figure out what ice cream we want.”

"I'm going to guess...pistachio for you." You glance up at him when you get into line and raise an eyebrow. "Or Rocky Road? Something classic."

“Actually…” Marcus smiles as he glances at the list of flavors. “I was thinking the sinful Caramel truffle swirl.” He admits.

"Ooh, we're going for something fancy tonight." It might be the mood or the sunset, but he is just remarkably handsome tonight. "Sounds tasty."

“You always go fancy with ice cream.” Marcus laughs. “Or red velvet, peanut butter cup mashup?”

"Red velvet and caramel swirl mash up?" Suddenly it's a game, playing with pairings, and his hand on your back has slipped to your waist making you feel giddy like you're still flying on that bike with him.

“Orrrr the banana flavored ice cream with peanut butter, chocolate chips and caramel swirl?” He asks, nearly drooling at the combinations they offer.

"The Elvis. Always a classic." All it's missing is bacon, and you would absolutely use that as a sundae topping. "I say we pick two and swap halfway through. Best of both worlds."

Marcus grins slowly and nods. “Sounds like a plan to me.” His fingers tighten on your waist slightly as you both turn back towards the window and step up to order. “Ladies first.” He murmurs to you.

You end up ordering coffee cookies and cream and Marcus gets the Elvis-inspired concoction that had him drooling, and within minutes you’re scouting for a place to sit in the small army of benches overlooking the water. The pinks, purples, and orange in the sky are a watercolor collage of the perfect sunset, and the smattering of other couples who also chose to stop here on their dates have given the place a more romantic feel than a little seaside ice cream stand probably ever would ever have on its own.

“Sooooo.” Marcus guides you over to the benches, the girl behind the window assuring them that they will bring the ice cream to you. “How is the view?” He asks, sitting down besides you and offering his hand. If you want to take it, you have the option.

“I think it might be my new favorite.” In fact, you’re so busy admiring his profile against the colorful sky that you almost miss his proffered hand. Almost. But you slip your hand into his larger one with a shy smile, relishing the simple intimacy.

Marcus isn’t looking at the sunset. Instead his eyes are on you. “Mine too.” He promises, curling his fingers around yours protectively.

“Yeah?” You’re both the same kind of sappy, it seems, and the smile on your face widens immeasurably. Your cheeks are going to ache from it tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else, just letting both of you settle back and watch the light play over the water. His hand doesn’t leave yours and he sighs softly. “The view of the water is nice too.”

A laugh - small and breathy - cracks your dreamy expression and you manage to thank the teenage girl who brings over your ice cream when she arrives a moment later. “Yes,” you grin at him, nearly giggling. “The water is nice, too.”

The first bite of the creamy, sweet ice cream makes Marcus moan, rolling his eyes back. “Holy shit.” He groans, taking another lick of the confection. “I know we’re trading but you have to try this now.” Having the perfect dessert almost makes up for having to let go of your hand. Almost.

“That good?” You ask, and he nods when he holds it out to you. It’s messier than you're proud of, that first taste, but you groan right along with him and let your eyes float shut happily. “Holy shit, it is that good.”

“Right?” He’s practically giddy as he takes another bite of it happily. “This is definitely a place to come back to again one night.”

“Absolutely.” The first bite of your own cone is just as good, and you moan again happily. “If it’s all this good then we’ll have to come back with Missy.”

“Missy will insist on it.” Marcus chuckles. “That girl has never met an ice cream flavor she didn’t love. She even eats mint chocolate chip.” He makes a face and grins at you.

“Mint chocolate chip is delicious!” You protest immediately, making him just grimace even more dramatically. “Fine, more for me and Missy, then. You’re the one missing out.”

“I will happily miss out.” He promises you. “I don’t care for the taste of toothpaste with my chocolate.”

“How about coffee and Oreos?” Offering him a first taste of your ice cream is only fair since you’d had one of his, but more than anything you’re just enjoying the easy teasing between you.

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Marcus doesn’t hesitate in sampling the cone you offer him and he groans happily. “God.”

“Right?” You laugh, trying to ignore the way the sounds reverberate through you anytime Marcus groans or moans over delicious food. “We have to come back. Gotta try every flavor.”

“Absolutely. Although with Missy coming, we’ll have to trade the motorcycle for the car.” He doesn’t mind it, and to be honest, he likes that you want to include his daughter.

“I don’t mind.” Spending time with his daughter is more important than how you travel, and honestly you’re not sure you’ll be composed enough for family bonding with how fucking wet riding that bike has made you. “The bike can be for when it’s just us.”

“I like the way you think.” Marcus smirks slightly and takes another bite of his ice cream.

“After all…” When you smirk at him it’s devious. “I don’t think the bike would be considered very ‘Daddy’ of you.”

He snorts, nearly choking on the melted cream of his dessert. “That’s just mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You blink at him innocently, with your eyes as wide as they’ll go. “Never! But tease? Absolutely.”

“So you tease but you don’t get the dirty meanings behind comments?” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Interesting.”

“I guess I just…never expect anyone to make dirty comments to me?” It feels like an excuse, or something silly, and you shrug your shoulders. “So it never occurs to me.”

“Why?” That seems impossible to him. You’re beautiful, kind, smart and funny. “While I don’t subscribe to catcalling women all the time, there’s got to be times where people come onto you.”

“Maybe.” Another shrug and you feel yourself looking away, like you ought to be embarrassed for missing out on something. “But I never notice unless it’s extremely obvious. Like the day you asked me to have lunch with you the first time? You flat out asked me.”

“I don’t mind having to be blunt.” Marcus leans in and nudges your shoulder slightly. “I’ll keep it in mind when I want you to know I’m flirting with you.”

“I’ll learn,” you promise, knowing the whole thing sounds silly to any ‘normal’ person. “Learning how you flirt is easier than learning how everybody in the world flirts.”

“This is very true.” Marcus is halfway down with his cone so he dutifully holds it out for you to take.

“Trade time.” You offer him your cone in exchange, glad that something so simple can be enjoyable for both of you. After everything you’ve been through over the last few years, you really have realized that it’s the little things that mean the most to you. Something as simple as sharing food makes everything much more intimate.

“We might have to get a couple of pints to take home next time.” Marcus suggests. “Bring a cooler.”

“We can make homemade ice cream sandwiches.” The thoughts roll on - of spending more time with him, getting to know Missy - the daydreams you have only started to allow yourself this week as you waited eagerly tonight.

“Ohhhh make some cookies for the sandwiches.” Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the idea.

“Exactly.” His enthusiastic reaction makes you grin, hoping that some of these little dreams might come true sooner rather than later. Tonight has really been perfect, and you don’t want it to end even if all you do is sit here in the after-dusk and watch the water together.

“So…anything else you want to do?” He asks softly. “We don’t have to end the date after we get back to L.A.”

“Honestly? We could probably do anything and I’d enjoy it.” Simple, maybe, but you prefer to think of it as being easy going. And you’ve never not enjoyed time with this man. “Maybe we could just…curl up? Watch a movie or something? Unless that sounds boring to you.”

“We could do that.” Marcus offers after thinking about it for a second. “Do you want to do this at your place or mine?” Just because you were picked up from a date at your apartment doesn’t mean you want him to come back to it. He frantically tries to remember if he did the dishes this morning.

“It’s probably easier if you come back to mine, I think.” Not that the very idea of it doesn’t have you shaking a little with anticipation. “That way you don’t have to drive the round trip between our places just to drop me off.”

“If that’s what you want.” Marcus chuckles quietly and decides to be honest. “I was just panicking and praying I had cleaned up from breakfast this morning.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that.” You shake your head, pausing for a second to lick away a drop of ice cream before it can skate down your hand. “A pristine house always confuses me. It’s supposed to be where you live, and life is messy.”

“Life is messy but I don’t think day old dishes are the way to express it.” Marcus chuckles. “I always think of shoes by the door, backpacks slung over the stair banister, throws and pillows messy on the couch.” He shrugs. “Basically how my house looks.”

“If you would be more comfortable at your house, I don’t mind.” For you, this is all about making him as at ease as possible, because you know that no matter what you’ll enjoy yourself. “I can take an Uber home?” Or spend the night, but you won’t say that part out loud.

He chuckles quietly. “I was wanting you to be comfortable.” He pouts slightly, playfully, at you.

“Too considerate for our own good.” You have to laugh a little, realizing that you’re both dancing around each other. “Why don’t we go to your house, then?” An Uber ride now will give you time to think, and to maybe not do something impulsive like ask him to stay.

Marcus nods. “That sounds good. We’ll have the house to ourselves and not have to worry about bothering the neighbors.” He murmurs, knowing you probably won’t get his meaning.

“Sounds good.” The smile you give him is admittedly a little dreamy, but that’s okay. A first date should be dreamy if it’s any good. Now that it’s officially dark out, the night seems to have taken on an extra layer of comfort that you hadn’t expected. Or maybe it’s just that you’re leaning into his side on the bench.

Marcus quickly devours the cone, but he offers you the very tip of the cone - the best part in his opinion. “Here, sweetheart.” He leans up and holds it up to your lips. “The sweetest bite.”

There’s something very intimate about it but you don’t shy away, accepting the gift by nipping it right out of his fingers with your teeth but still accidentally grazing his fingers with your lips in the process. He’s right about it, though, and you hum happily when you offer him the same last bite of the cone you had been holding.

It should be obvious how Marcus is feeling from the way his breath catches when you graze his fingers, but he doesn’t know. So he makes it obvious. He wraps his lips around your fingers and sucks lightly.

As gentle as he is when he does it, it sucks the air straight out of your lungs to make you gasp. There's no possible way to miss the deliberate way his tongue flicks at your fingertips instead of focusing on the nub of the ice cream cone that you had been offering, and although he does come away with the treat in his mouth that's not at all what you're focused on now. You stare for a second before you can compose yourself again, and instead of being gobsmacked you immediately feel your whole face burning.

"Delicious." He hums, smirking at you slightly as he licks his lips before he starts to lick his fingers clean of any melted ice cream that dripped down. "Are you ready to go back?" He asks, watching you carefully as he sucks his thumb clean.

The reply gets stuck in your throat at first but you nod, eventually managing to stammer out a "Yes" and flustering, because what you want to do is drag him in for a kiss but that seems awfully forward. Or maybe it isn't at this point and you're just paranoid - who knows.

Marcus chuckles quietly, suddenly more confident on this date than he had been up to this point. His knuckles brush across your cheek and there’s still just a touch of light over the ocean to make the scene romantic with the string of lights around to give it a nice glow. “I’m going to kiss you, unless you say no.” He warns softly, making his intentions known and giving you a chance to pull away as he leans in.

“Why the hell would I do that?” It gives you just a second to appreciate his knack for crystal clear communication, which means the world to you, but you’re also not trying to open a dialogue. You lean in as easily as breathing, finding his lips a half seconds faster than he anticipated, and let your eyes flutter closed at that first touch. It feels so natural, like everything else tonight, and you reach one hand up to cup his cheek while the moment lingers between you beautifully.

Marcus sighs into the soft kiss. It’s gentle, promising. A first kiss that sweet dreams are made of and he’s careful to not take it any deeper. If you want to kiss him again, he can expand then. After a moment, or many an hour, he pulls away with a smile. “Ready, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.” As soft and sweet as it is, your whole self is buzzing with it and you run your thumb along his jaw as you nod. “Ready, handsome.”

The two of you stand up and there’s a natural way that you seem to drift towards each other. His hand sliding around your waist and he hums softly. “Are you warm enough in that jacket for the ride home?” He asks, knowing that it will get cooler now that the sun is down.

“I’ll be okay.” He must not know that he radiates heat. It comes off him in waves and you’ve wondered more than once how he could possibly survive wearing sweaters like he does in Southern California weather while being so warm. Maybe it’s just an aura he gives off. “If I’m chilly when we get to your house we’ll just have to curl up under a blanket.”

Marcus groans slightly, barely refraining from making another dirty comment, but his fingers flex slightly on your hip. “Whatever you want.” He promises.

“Did I say something?” You’re starting to pick up on things. On his cues that could be considered unusual. At least, he never groaned around you before.

“Yeah.” He knows you didn’t mean it sexually. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could be under a blanket with you, sweetheart.” He admits as the two of you stop in front of his bike again. “It’s adding to that pressure I was talking about.”

With two pieces of the puzzle, it's like something clicks into place in your mind and you suck in another breath, clamping your mouth shut to keep from openly giggling. "Oh." You duck your head and push into his space a little, just to press a kiss to his cheek. "I wouldn't... wouldn't mind not making it through the movie," you admit quietly.

He chuckles quietly and reaches for the helmet for you. “That’s up to you.” He promises quietly. “Completely up to you.”

The ride back to LA is easy. The giddiness in your blood is different than it was when you left the city but no less exciting - just a new kind of anticipation. The idea that he does actually want you as much as you want him is exhilarating, making you hyper aware of the way you have to cling to him as he guides you through traffic. The strength of him despite how he might look soft to the outside observer. The breadth of his back and shoulders giving you a place to rest your head as your drive that only makes you wonder if the breadth of his chest would be even more comforting.

There is a slight urgency to getting back this time. He’s not speeding too badly but it’s not the leisurely drive it had been on the way out. Not with the fact that your hand has slipped under his jacket and resting on his stomach, warm and heavy.

His house is picturesque from the outside: the pinnacle of upper-middle class southern California comfort. A gate and security box outside let you in to see the well kept front yard and around the side of the house where the pool is beckoning with welcome. It looks tidy but not fussy, which is just like him. "Home sweet home?" You hum when he cuts the engine in his driveway.

“Home sweet home.” Marcus offers, letting you swing yourself off the back of the bike before he lets down the kickstand and dismounts himself. “Hopefully you like it.”

"I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't." As reluctant as you are to pull away, you take off the helmet you had been wearing and hand it off to him to secure. The night has barely gotten a chill but the ride definitely created a breeze, and you smile when you take his offered hand. "Do you want to give me the grand tour?"

“Of course.” He practically beams at how you smile at him. It’s the type of smile that makes him feel like a warm blanket has settled over him. “Missy has managed to make this hang out central in the summertime when she’s here. The kids like to come swim.”

“I would too, if I were them. Any place with a pool is the best place to spend free time.” There’s vestiges of teenagers everywhere when he shows you the path to the backyard - pool toys in a large crate and everything brightly colored in every way. It feels lived in and loved.

“Of course. And it’s always asking if I can grill hamburgers or whatever.” He huffs, but his grin gives away how much he enjoys it. “Do you know how many bags of chips teenagers can plow through?”

“It’s gonna be even more if I start coming over.” You flash him a grin that says you’re one hundred percent ready to suck up to his daughter to make sure she likes you. “Dips and desserts are kind of my thing.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you mean to bring them or I’ll have to buy more?” He teases with a wink.

“Oh no, I’ll make them.” You promise, laughing right with him. “Nothing says pool party and burgers like fresh salsa and guac.”

“You make homemade guacamole and my daughter would be your best friend.” Marcus laughs. “She eats it all by herself.”

“Befriending Missy is very high on my list of priorities.” That’s something that shouldn’t be a secret from him - that you value him enough to make his daughter a priority. Tonight has been amazing and might still continue to get better, and it’s important that he knows how seriously you take this.

“The key to her heart is avocados and green chili sauce.” He confides, whispering playfully. “If you can make green chili enchiladas, she might ask you to move in.”

Your other hand moves around his waist when he pulls you into his side and you grin up at him when you hug him. “I really hope you don’t mind having me around then, because it sounds like Missy and I can live off the same foods.”

“If you can cook it, thank God.” Marcus huffs. “Because for some reason mine never turns out right.”

“We’ll have to see what she thinks.” You lean into Marcus with a smile. “I hope they make the cut.”

“If they are halfway decent, it would be a lot better than mine.” He chuckles, leaning into you and sending you an up close wink.

“Wanna show me the inside?” A nod to the house is a small thing, but getting to see his space for the first time is a big deal.

“Of course! Yes, of course.” He huffs at himself and shakes his head. “Come inside, please.”

The house is lived in. Cozy and as tidy as it can be while being inhabited by a single dad and his teenage daughter. No cleaning lady has been through here, no private chef has seen the inside of this kitchen or painstakingly set this table. It hasn’t been touched by an interior decorator or a stylist. It’s just their home, and you like it all the better for that.

“So this is it.” He’s never been a showy person, motioning to the living room and open kitchen. “It’s home and to be honest, probably could use a hell of a dusting.” He admits, blushing slightly.

“It’s just like you.” The words come with a soft, lopsided smile. “Comfortable, welcoming. Like you don’t want to leave once you’ve been let inside.”

Marcus smiles slowly and nods. “Well it’s a good thing that you only leave when you want to.”

It’s a chance to take, but you’re willing to go out on a limb right now. With his fingers still threaded through yours it’s easy to turn into him and tip your head back. It’s just a small moment, or at least it starts that way, but you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth in what is - for you - a very daring move. “That is a good thing,” you murmur, hoping that wasn’t too forward after he kissed you earlier in the evening.

It warms him, making him snake his free hand around your waist and pull you closer. “Hmmmm.” He hums quietly and shakes his head. “We can do better than that, sweetheart.” He promises before he leans in to kiss you again.

It’s firmer this time, more wanting, and you sigh into it with a freedom and enthusiasm that is only encouraged by how close he’s holding you.

Marcus feels the tension building, loves how naturally this is progressing and he tilts his head slightly so he can run his tongue along the seam of your lips.

You shiver a little and sigh, opening up for him and gliding your tongue along his for that first taste of exploring something deeper. While his hand tightens at your waist, yours slide up his shoulders easily, pulling the two of you together like magnets. You opening up for him is like opening the floodgates for Marcus. The needs that have been building for him spill out, making him become more assertive. Guiding you towards a counter while groaning into your mouth, he presses against your body, his own hard and throbbing for you.

Permission has been given here - permission to act and permission to want in a way that you can’t remember even scratching the surface of with anyone before him. Of course there were others before him, you’re not that innocent, but it’s been a long time and something about the way Marcus is mapping the inside of your mouth so carefully and methodically feels momentous. You moan for him, softly at first but it quickly becomes needy, and tangle your fingers in his clothes like a desperate, silent plea to have them out of the way.

“Baby.” Marcus pants as he pulls away, sucking in the air he had been deprived of while he was kissing you. His lips trail down your jaw. “You need- let me know- if- if we need to stop.” He manages.

“Could say the s-same to you —” It’s not as though you haven’t dreamt of this. Gotten yourself off to the thought of this. Tried to imagine if he would be rough and needy from desperation or soft and gentle out of caution and affection. Now that you might be a hair’s breadth away from finding out you don’t ever want to stop.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Marcus lets out a breathless chuckle against your pulse. “Baby I want to show you my bedroom.” He murmurs desperately. His cock twitches against your stomach.

“Please.” There’s nothing more straight forward than that, and you nod almost frantically.

“Okay.” He pulls away from you and takes your hand. “Let’s go upstairs.” He offers, giving you a moment to breathe.

If you were in a more eloquent mood you might have thought it was like being led through a palace by your very own Prince Charming, but as it stands the only thing you can really focus on is the heat radiating off of him and the urgency with which you’re both climbing the stairs. You barely make it to the landing before you’re glued to each other again, blindly grasping along the hallway as you moan into another kiss.

It has been a long time since Marcus was in such a hurry to ferry someone into his bedroom. Yet his hands grip every part of you that he can reach and he is pushing off your jacket right there in front of the stairs so he can touch more of you. Drunk off the soft sounds you pour into his mouth.

One by one the pieces of clothing start to drop - your purse, both jackets, his shirt - with an urgency that you hadn't known you had until his hands were spanning your whole hips with one great grasp and his teeth found exactly how sensitive the tender skin of your neck is. "Marcus–" His name is a prayer before it becomes a chant and your own hands map the expanse of his chest as you tumble through a doorway that you desperately hope leads to his bedroom.

“Gonna make this good baby.” It’s a desperate promise to his ears, especially as long as he’s been without intimacy. Unless you count him jerking off this morning in a desperate attempt to not attack you. Though that point seems to be moot.

"So good." How could you doubt that about him? Well...you don't, honestly, but you understand that as long as it's been for you it's been much longer for him. And to have a little reassurance might go a very long way tonight. "So fucking good."

“Let me know if I do something that you don’t like.” Marcus orders you softly, smirking at you because he doesn’t think that it will be likely. “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to go down on someone.”

“Fuck, Marcus.” Having had no expectation for tonight, that bowls you over like a ton of bricks and you look up at him with lust blown eyes. “There is nothing I don’t like about that.”

He chuckles, the deep, raspy sound of arousal and anticipation. “You don’t know, I could be a biter.” He teases, knowing that he will put his teeth marks on you in a few different places.

"How do you know I wouldn't like that?" You tease back, enjoying that every single second doesn't have to be fully loaded and serious. Being able to laugh with your lover is something you need.

Marcus snaps his teeth at you playfully at winks. “Only one way to find out.”

Giggling in response, you happily draw him in for another kiss before stepping back toward his bed. One pull brings your dress up over your head, and you just have to thank your lucky stars that you wore a reasonably cute matching underwear set tonight. It's not all the way to lingerie, but it's nicer than your every-day stuff. If you had anticipated this at all, you would have pulled out the fanciest thing you own.

“Fuck.” The sight of your pretty panties and bra makes his cock twitch in his pants and he’s quickly ridding himself of the t-shirt he had worn. He might be slightly self conscious, it’s been a long time since he was in Heroics shape, but he ignores that as he stares.

"You took the word right out of my mouth." It might be a silly thing, but you can't help staring right back for a moment. The little bit of softness around his middle doesn't diminish his figure one ounce. If anything, you like a bit of softness with all that strength. He looks broader like this - shoulders tapering down to trim hips - and you step backward again. One step closer to his bed.

“Take off your bra.” Marcus orders quietly before he smirks and holds up his hand to stop you. “Better yet…hold still.”

Tilting your head at him, you stop reaching behind you. A second later the hook and eye clasps on your bra open completely untouched. "Did you just--?" Your hand immediately reaches back to touch the clasp, which feels completely normal and unbent, and you pull your bra down your arms with a smirk. "Metal powers. Handy."

“Very handy.” He might look like the cat who got the cream and his eyes only get wider as your breasts are revealed to him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” He coos, reaching for the button of his jeans. “Do you like your nipples sucked on?” He asks, mouthwatering as he imagines it.

"Mmhmm." For some reason the question paralyzes you, like that is somehow what has made tonight completely real. "I-- y-yes, god yes."

“Then I’m going to suck on them.” Marcus groans like you’ve given him a gift. “I’m going to suck on them while my fingers stretch open your little pussy before I lick it.”

"Fuck." One more step back and your calves bump against his bed frame, almost making you lose your balance because you weren't expecting to find the all-important piece of furniture so easily. "Do it, Marcus. Touch me, please."

His jeans are pushed down, his boxers tented with a large wet spot from where he is leaking. “Lay down.” Marcus practically growls out the order, eager to see you spread out in his bed.

All in one not-too-smooth motion, you shift back onto his bed and slip out of your panties, wanting to just bypass any other awkwardness by laying yourself bare for him. Everything Marcus wants at this moment, you are more than happy to give him.

He had wanted to strip off your panties, but it’s completely okay if you are bare. Giving him the perfect unobstructed view of your body. He hisses through his teeth and rushes to strip off his boxers. “Jesus baby, look at you.”

"Too busy looking at you." His cock is thick, and longer than you've had before, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as you take in the sight of him prowling toward you. Two steps and he's leaning on the bed, making the mattress dip to hold his weight and bringing the heat of his proximity back to you. "Fucking gorgeous."

“Yes you are.” Marcus hovers over you, watching you squirm underneath him as he takes in the view. “Let me kiss you again, sweetheart.”

"Gladly." You would drown in him right now if you could - kissing him is the least of it. The weight and breadth of him on top of you makes you feel almost dainty as you breathe him in, and just a touch of warm wetness on the inside of your thigh tells you he is just as excited by the turn tonight has taken as you are.

The kiss is hot, frantic and Marcus is lowering himself onto you before he even realizes it. Needing to get closer. “Fuck.”

It feels like your hands are everywhere at once, trying to map the length and breadth of him while you memorize his taste. With no hesitations between you, the instinct to reach down and wrap your hand around his length is easy to give in to.

You would think that he’s been surprised, maybe even hurt from the way that Marcus sucks in a loud breath. But there’s no mistaking the way his hips jerk forward when your hand surrounds his cock and squeezes gently. It’s the sweetest kind of torture and he feels the burst of pearly liquid build up on the tip naturally. “Shit.” The ragged groan is followed by his mouth starting to blaze a wet trail across your chest in search of your nipple.

Your own gasp nearly matches when he finds it, drawing a moan from you and arching your back off the bed and letting your eyes flutter shut just for a second before you peel them open again to watch him. Ravenous isn’t usually a word you would use to describe Marcus but right now he is a man starved and the first step to satiating him is found at your tits.

There had been a few times where he had worried he wouldn’t be able to do this again. That he would be too nervous or just unsure of the new partner. But you have stripped all of those insecurities away and left him with nothing but heavy desire.

The sounds surrounding you like a halo turn filthy quickly. Groans muffled by skin, vocal moans, the sloppy sounds of Marcus lapping at your chest more and more desperately every time your hand moves on his cock.

“Fuck.” His groan is muffled around your nipple. His hands blaze a trail over your skin, groping and squeezing every piece of flesh he could. “So good.”

“Marcus—” You whimper when he moves across your chest, latching onto your neglected nipple with eager determination. “Fuck baby — need you to touch me. Please.”

Once you beg him, Marcus can’t deny you anything. His fingers slide down to slide through your folds and press against your clit as he switches over to the other breast. Your hand around his stills when he presses his fingers into you, totally absorbed in the feeling of being split open on two of his thick fingers as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. It has your chest heaving and body aching all at once, desperate to get as close to him as possible. To draw him into you and get him as addicted to the feel of you surrounding him as you already are to him surrounding you.

“So sweet.” Marcus pulls off your tit and groans when he feels how fucking tight you are as he pumps his fingers into your body. “Fuck, that what you need? That good? You need me to curl them?” He wants to know how to make you cum, wants to hear those breathless cries.

"C-curl, fuck, please--" It's impossible to form a complete thought with his fingers moving inside of you so gorgeously, but you nod and hope he can understand the broken sentence for what it is. "So good."

He hears you, his teeth nipping the side of your breast as he curls his fingers up and presses them deeper.

You keen in response, crying his name and grasping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them perfectly against that gorgeous spongy spot inside of you and making you see stars. "Just-- fuck -- like that, oh my god."

Marcus groans, breathing against your skin and closing his eyes at the sound of your moan. “Good girl.” He coos breathlessly. “Oh fuck, good girl.” His cock pulses against your hip but he wants to make this good for you. Knowing that he won’t last too long in bed this time.

It's all too overwhelming and so good in all the ways that you've missed being touched, and Marcus's rhythm doesn't falter as he pushes you right to the edge. Barely gasping out a warning before your whole body seems to lock down under him, his name is on your lips when you fall apart for him the first time.

Marcus shudders, feeling the liquid heat rush over his fingers. Making him moan your name quietly as he keeps pumping his fingers up into to keep the pressure against that spongy spot and draw it out for you while he kisses along your jaw and murmurs small words of encouragement in your ear. “Good girl, so fucking good. Ride it out for me, baby.”

"Goddamn." When you feel like you can breathe again, you turn your head to capture his lips in a sloppy, eager kiss. "So fucking good, baby."

He chuckles quietly, soaking up your praise and slowly pulling his fingers out of you along with a whine when he does. “Good.” He pants. “You want–” He pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks.

"Fuck yes." There's no hesitation for you. Months of dreaming - and daydreaming - about this makes you nothing but pliant and needy. "I-I'm safe," you manage to pant out between kisses. "IUD, I mean."

He groans the idea of feeling you bare and having you full of his cum. “Good. I’m safe too.” He promises, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Been a long time and I’ve had a clean bill of health.”

"It's been a while for me, too." There's no reason for him to be self-conscious about that, and you brush the damp curls of hair out of his face to press a kiss to his forehead. "Doesn't matter," you smile softly. "Just matters that it's you."

That more than anything, makes him relax. Marcus kisses you, forgetting that he had promised to use his tongue on you as he shifts and covers your body with his. “So fucking beautiful.” He groans.

"All for you, baby," you promise him, knowing that nothing in the damn universe could pull you out of this man's bed now that you're here.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, settling between your thighs is a slow affair. He’s not some teenager that needs to be inside you, although the ache has built up to almost painful. Instead he kisses you as his hand slides between your bodies so he can position himself at your core and his eyes watch yours as he slowly starts to sheath himself in your welcoming body.

You feel like you're holding your breath as he presses into you, filling you up inch by gorgeous inch, but it's the low moan reverberating in your chest and the thick cock slowly splitting you open that gives you the feeling of breathlessness. Marcus isn't in a hurry and neither are you. With your foreheads pressed together and sounds of pleasure coming from both of you, the room around you has dissolved and narrowed your reality down to just him.

“Holy shit.” Marcus’s arms are trembling by the time he is buried to the hilt and he swears that he can’t breathe. The sexy and playful moment turns serious and he can’t do anything more than to press his lips tenderly to yours again while he tries to give you time to adjust before he moves.

He pulls back, rolling his hips away from you as slowly as he had punished them forward, and you gasp into his kiss when he drives into you again - slightly faster but not with anything approaching speed. A languid pace gives you both time to find a rhythm together and your lips only leave his to kiss and nip along his jaw line while he moans in your ear.

He closes his eyes as he languidly rocks into you. Keeping the pace steady. “When you’re ready, let me know.” He murmurs slowly, feeling the exquisite pleasure of your walls squeezing him. “I want to hear you scream my name tonight.”

"More, baby." He knows damn well that you're not above begging, and your tone is borderline pleading even without needing to be. All you know is that you want to be completely overwhelmed by him. "Fuck, I-- please, Marcus, want you so bad."

“W-wrap your legs around me.” Marcus groans out, pushing to his elbows and grins at you. “And hang on.”

Curiosity has you following his instruction as much as anything else, and you shift under him just enough to have your ankles meet at the small of his back. Your hands grasping at his arms and shoulders will have to be enough to ‘hang on’ like you’ve been told.

He hums, pleased by your willingness to comply and he grins at you, devilish as he winks. “Now tell me if I need to slow down.” He says before he withdraws again and snaps his hips forward.

“Fuck!” Slow and steady is apparently not Marcus’s preferred pace, as he begins to pound into you with stamina that could only come from a Heroic. If his goal is really to have you screaming his name, you have a feeling it won’t take very long at all.

Grunting, Marcus reaches up to grab the headboard so it doesn’t beat against the wall. Forgetting that he had removed the spacers so it didn’t the last time he had rearranged the room. There hadn’t been any need for them for a long time. Now he just moans as your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as he keeps hammering into you.

The little crescent moon marks your nails are sure to leave behind don't seem to phase him in the least. Every thrust feels like he's splitting you open for the first time all over again, spearing into you until your head is thrown back on his pillows and you have one hand braced again the headboard so you don't hit your head with the way he's fucking you into the mattress.

“J-Jesus.” He hisses. “K-know how many times I-I imagined this?” He demands, pushing the air out of your lungs with every harsh roll of his hips. “Nearly every f-fucking day.”

"Me -- oh fuck -- too." It's as much as you can do to string a few words together right now and you keen when he drives into you again.

Every time his cock hits the spongy walls of your cunt, you moan for him. Making him ramp up his pace to near frantic and all he can do is pant out your name between breaths.

It hits you like a freight train when that second orgasm comes, without any chance to give him warning or do anything except cry his name into the night, the sound reverberating off the walls with the wet slap on skin on skin as Marcus fucks you through your peak with your cunt clenching down on him like a velvet fist.

“F-fuck, good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and thanking the Gods that he managed to last long enough for you to be able to cum. “Shit, baby.” He covers your mouth once more for a desperate kiss as he rocks into you half a dozen more times before he plunges deep and pulses inside you, the liquid heat of his pleasure filling you up.

He swallows your moans as he empties himself inside you, and when both of you breathe again it's with brilliant smiles on your faces even though all eyes stay closed for a long moment afterward. When you do open your eyes, you press soft kisses along his jaw and cheeks, finally dusting a few on his lips. "Holy shit," you giggle quietly, chest still heaving as you pant.

His quiet laugh matches yours in breathlessness and he nods. “What you said.” He huffs, deciding the thing to do would be to collapse against you and tuck his head into your neck to snuggle and breathe you on.

You wrap your arms around him, legs going slack as you both just sink down into his mattress together as one. "Hell of a first date," you chuckle, kissing his shoulder where you've left marks behind.

“Mmmhmm.” His smirk is pleased and tired against your neck. “When I can move again, I’ll run you a bath and get us some water.” He murmurs.

"If we don't both fall asleep first." It wouldn't bother you for a second if that's what happened. Passing out after sex with Marcus still inside you is high on the fantasy list.

“How do you know what I’m trying not to do?” Marcus grumbles playfully at you, kissing your pulse softly.

"Cause it's what I'm trying not to do," you giggle against his skin. "That's a hell of a workout."

“Yes it was.” His softening cock twitches inside you and he giggles slightly, feeling euphoric. “I’m very glad you aren’t my student anymore.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x female reader #teacher student #I blame Teacher Ben #2k celebration #follow milestone #milestone celebration fic

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rist-ix · 11 months

Note

I have a question for you what do you think of the quote unquote age gap between Bloom and Valtor?

I had to do alot of research to understand Bloom age when I started to like this ship better than Mr cheater. So here's a brief information dump:

Bloom is 16 in the first episode and its confirm her bday is December 10 (we don't know the the exact year when each girl was born only the fact Stella is the oldest by that logic Bloom is the second youngest out of the group) when we get to season 3 it is confirmed that the girls is in their 3rd semester so that makes Bloom 19 at point. Valtor's age we do not know however I'm going to say at most early 20s from what we know Valtor working with a younger Griffin before he got Popsicled.

Here comes the tricky part. In s4 the girls just finished their semester and graduated making them 20-21. Up until s5 where Nicklodeon had to reboot their age making them 16 again. Flashforward to s8 and that makes Bloom age 19 if you are following the reboot or 23 if you do not follow the reboot. Since we don't know how long Valtor been frozen his mental age is up for debate.

For me personally I don't see Sparxshipping as an Edward and Bella situation as Edward was aging naturally during his years while Valtor was frozen and couldn't age naturally but only mentally.

Okay okay first of all! Your Bloom math checks out and I just realized that I for some reason always thought Bloom is 18 in s3. Which is still possible, I think, I just dont know why I assumed that. Actually no, it works, if she is 16 in s1 she is 17 in s2 and 18 in s3, but we dont know a lot about how the school years work in Magix so I'm gonna jot her down as 18-19 for the remainder of this post.

Still dont know how I passed math btw.

Anyway. Valtor's age is where the real mystery is at. We've got two possibilities in my opinion.

1. He's pulling the ageless immortal card.

My personal go-to for fics and discussions. Love me some 300 year old mommy issues. He has too much practice being a messy bitch, there's no fixing this man folks.

Evidence: There's a flashback showing him with Griffin as a tween: she looks MUCH younger, he looks exactly the same. Unless he also stole the secret magic of the world's most potent anti aging cream, or Griffin's proximity to Faragonda just aged her by three more decades, he does not age.

2. He is the age he looks.

Which, in my humble opinion, would not put him anywhere near twenty. That is a grown man. He's not college age, unless you count college professors under that word. Even if I were good at guessing ages the very stylized art style would throw me for a loop, but im gonna say 40s, give or take. Look at Avalon, look at Codatorta, look at King Radius if u must. That is the age range we're looking at.

Evidence: I dont have any. We're ballin'. I guess it's never explicitly stated he's immortal, which you'd think would be big enough of a deal to mention. If u got something feel free to let me know.

That being said, the Winx Club Wiki page for the canon timeline (ha, good one) puts the time of Valtor's creation in a rough time frame from "Over 17 years before season 1" to "Under 100 years before season 6". So he could technically be anywhere from 17-97, though I'm not sure the upper limit is as reliable as the lower one, given the check-list format of the website. So make of that what you will.

Now that we've got the question of age out of the way, lets get to the age gap. I have no idea what the situation in twilight was to be honest, so I cant compare that.

Realistically, there's at least a decade between Bloom and Valtor. Possibly two decades and change. And that is just from visible age, we can add a few centuries on top of that if we're sticking with the immortal bit. I'm gonna be gonest, I dont think being frozen for 17 years will make a whole lot of difference here.

If you find that icky, which is fair, you can always change that for fics tho! Either turn him into a twenty year old or put Bloom in her milf-era, the options are endless. Personally, I think the age difference is half the fun though, and also the least of their issues. When you're off making out with the objectively worst person in history, wether he's too old for her isnt gonna rank very high on people's list of concerns.

#asks #sparxshipping #winx bloom #winx valtor #i think their very obvious gap in knowledge and experience is very intrinsic to their canon dynamic #Bloom being the underdog while Valtor is VERY convinced of his superiority kind of defines the ship for me #and it makes it so much more satisfying when Bloom does put him on his ass

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bidoofenergy · 2 years

Note

This is me humbly requesting some Jimmy and Joel/Grian interactions from your dance floor au🙏

Additionally I would kill for a d&d au that genuinely sounds so fun as someone who played dnd years ago (unf the group was not fun to play with, I feel bad for our dm)

hungry busy people

also on AO3 sequel to let's ditch the dance floor (4048 words)

“Friday night,” Joel sarcastically cheers, under his breath. “Living the dream," Jimmy refuses to pay attention to him. He’s got his planner, his Google Calendar, and all his course websites open in front of him, but he still feels like he’s forgetting something. He goes down this weekend's to do list for the third time, comparing it to upcoming deadlines.

“Class signup starts next week right?” he asks, whipping up to look at Joel, across the table. Joel pauses his lamenting on missing on date night with Lizzie.

“Registration isn’t for another two weeks.” Joel says slowly. Jimmy flips to two weeks out and, sure enough, there it is on Thursday in capital letters: “CLASS SIGNUP 8 AM!!” Jimmy groans.

“Are you forgetting something?” Joel asks, barely hiding his amusement.

“Tell me you know what I’m forgetting.” Jimmy leans over his open notebooks and half the table to beg properly.

Joel leans away from Jimmy’s hands and smirks. “How should I know what you’ve forgotten?” He reaches for his phone as he speaks and starts typing without breaking eye contact.

“If you’re texting Grian to make fun of me—” Jimmy starts, in his best attempt at threatening. It isn’t very good, given how Joel’s smirk just grows.

“Do your homework Jim.” Joel pats the top of his hand. “It’ll come to you; probably when you least expect it.” Joel sounds too happy about this for Jimmy’s taste. He sighs and sits back. Joel has decided to be unhelpful and there’s no changing his mind. Jimmy hates him a little.

“I hate you a lot.” He tells Joel. Joel is not bothered by this.

Truthfully, Jimmy can only hate Joel a little today. Joel agreed to go to the vet school library with him on a Friday night, even though it’s a good 15 minute bus ride from their dorm, because Jimmy focuses better here than at the library on main campus. Jimmy needs to be at the library on a Friday night because, at some point this semester, his workload went from substantial to overwhelming. And on top of that, there’s… something else. Something is happening this weekend and that means Jimmy has to get as much work done today as possible.

To start: this godforsaken discussion post that’s due at midnight. He switches windows back to the week’s reading and continues skimming it, hoping for something to jump out at him. He just needs to find something vaguely interesting to write 150 words about and then he can tell two random classmates they “brought up some very intriguing points, I hadn't considered that” and be done with the class—at least until next Friday’s discussion post.

It’s on his fourth reread of the same sentence (so much for skimming) that Jimmy feels a presence behind him. He freezes and considers. Joel is still in front of him, intently focused on his laptop screen. There’s only one other person Jimmy knows who would stand behind him and silently wait like this, but he’s an hour drive—this is the thing Jimmy forgot!

Jimmy whirls around, his suspicions immediately confirmed when he nearly smacks Grian in the stomach in his excitement. “Grian!” he exclaims and immediately winces at his volume.

“Hey Tim,” Grian grins. “Took you long enough to notice.” He ruffles Jimmy’s hair before sitting down.

“He’s been here for seven minutes.” Joel says as he reaches across the table to bump fists in greeting. “I timed it.”

“You’re getting sloppy Tim.” Grian shakes his head.

“Shut up.” Jimmy whines. “Where’s your stuff man?” He cannot believe he forgot Grian was staying the weekend; it’s not like their plans were what got him through the last few weeks.

“In my car, which is by your dorm, because that’s where you told me you’d be.” Grian pokes Jimmy in the chest. “Joel had to coach me through your bus system by text!”

Joel smirks at Grian’s annoyance. “Sorry, not all of us have the cutting-edge infrastructure of HCU.”

“A functional, easy-to-understand bus system is not cutting-edge—”Grian starts, voice rising, before Joel and Jimmy shush him.

“Yes, yes, HCU rules, ESU drools.” Joel says mockingly, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t give us Scar’s public transportation rant, I have homework I need to finish.” Jimmy pleads. Grian splutters like he can’t decide what to be offended by first.

“It’s not a rant—It’s not Scar’s—” he squawks. Jimmy and Joel glance at each other and laugh.

“Hush, both of you,” Grian folds his arms. “You’re doing homework? I drove all the way here, rode your horrible bus, to watch you do homework?”

Jimmy can't help but laugh. He’s missed Grian so much.

“Don’t laugh!” Grian exclaims and Joel shushes him again, still laughing as he does.

“The grind doesn’t stop.” Jimmy shrugs. “Gotta finish this today so I’m free tomorrow.” At the mention of tomorrow, Grian brightens.

“Yes! I’m looking forward to your gym.” he enthuses and Joel groans. “You guys actually have more climbing space than HCU does.” Grian continues and Joel groans louder.

“You’re obsessed.” Joel complains.

“Alright, Mr. Thought of Baby Names Three Months in.” Grian scoffs.

“I did not—not three months—” Joel fumbles to defend himself, flushing. “I would never—I was totally cool and normal about Lizzie.” His flush deepens at the mention of his girlfriend, which doesn’t really help his case.

“So, we’re just lying now?” Jimmy asks Grian in a stage whisper and they grin at each other.

“Shut up,” Joel groans, head in his hands. “Do your homework Tim.”

Jimmy frowns, but before he can say anything, Grian pokes his arm. “Yeah Timmy,” he says teasingly, switching sides easily. “Finish your homework so we can get out of here.”

“Boo,” Jimmy mumbles and he and Joel start working again.

Grian leaves them alone for about ten minutes, entertaining himself with his phone, before getting bored and scooting his chair closer to Jimmy. He rests his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder and starts reading along. Jimmy, used to this, lets his shoulder drop a little so Grian is more comfortable.

“Jim,” Grian says after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t pick a random quote and start writing—” Grian starts and Jimmy just laughs. Joel looks up at the two of them, an eyebrow raised. “He’s overthinking this.” Grian huffs, sounding personally offended.

“I’d never accuse Jimmy of thinking too much.” Joel smirks.

“Hey!” Jimmy exclaims. “I wasn’t sure where to start and—” Grian cuts him off.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it!’”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it.” he parrots. Grian pats him on the head and sits back, looking smug.

The worst part is: Grian is right. Jimmy finds the sentence he had to read four times and starts writing, “A quote that I found particularly interesting…”

Grian watches him type for a few minutes before getting bored again and rolling over to watch Joel. “That doesn’t look like homework.” He remarks dryly. Jimmy looks up to see the familiar expression of Joel caught texting Lizzie something gross and cheesy and quickly looks back to his own laptop screen, happy to let Grian take care of that.

- - -

They’re at the library for a few more hours, until it’s almost 12:30. Jimmy finished his discussion post and the two replies and starts on his math homework (Grian immediately teases him for “taking a finance class, that’s not even real math!”). Joel, eventually, probably because she fell asleep, stops texting Lizzie and starts reading. It’s a lot of highlighting, mumbling to himself, and looking like the book in front of him insulted his mother. Grian steals Jimmy’s phone, gets the passcode right on the first try because Jimmy hasn’t bothered to change it since Grian first learned it in high school, and starts playing Angry Birds. Jimmy doesn’t even remember having Angry Birds on his phone.

Eventually, Jimmy’s mind feels like a thick soup and Grian has given up on Angry Birds in favor of spinning his chair worryingly fast. Joel, seeing the state of the two of them, snaps his book closed and says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally!” Grian exclaims, jumping up to his feet. He sways and stumbles and Jimmy laughs as he packs up his stuff.

Grian is buzzing with energy as they leave the library and head to the bus stop. The night air is warm and heavy with humidity. The sidewalk is lit a hazy orange-yellow from the streetlights. There’s no one else at the bus stop. Jimmy stands by the sign and bounces on his toes. Grian squints at the bus stop bench, like he's grading it. For a moment, it’s quiet—only the sounds of distant traffic and bugs.

“I’m hungry.” Joel announces to the night air, startling Jimmy a little.

“Nothing’s open right now.” Jimmy frowns.

“Do you not have food in your room?” Grian asks. Neither Jimmy nor Joel dignify his question with a response.

“There’s gotta be something open.” Joel pulls out his phone and opens his map app, pinching and panning and zooming in on nearby streets. Both Jimmy and Grian crowd around, bumping their heads together.

“I really cannot believe ESU doesn’t have stuff nearby open past midnight.” Grian mumbles. Jimmy can’t believe HCU would.

“There’s a Waffle House not far from our dorm, which is good because this is the last bus.” Joel announces, zooming in on the Waffle House in question. He looks a little too excited about this. Jimmy glances at Grian, who looks more caught up on the idea that the buses are stopping now.

“I could eat,” Jimmy offers and, just like that, their plans have been made.

“Waffle House!” Joel cheers and switches over to stare at the bus tracker app.

- - -

The Waffle House isn’t very busy, unsurprising for it being nearly 1 am, only another group of five college students crammed in a booth and only two people working. The blond, middle-aged cook yells at them to “sit wherever!” when they enter and Grian picks a booth for them. Joel slides in next to Grian and drops his backpack on the opposite bench right as Jimmy’s about to sit. Jimmy rolls his eyes, pushes the bag further in, and accidentally kicks Joel as he’s getting settled. Joel, of course, immediately kicks him back, and things devolve from there.

“Boys!” Grian admonishes as the waiter comes up to the table, menus in hand. “Can’t take them anywhere.” he jokes, like he didn’t just kick Jimmy in the shins. The waiter, a tall, lanky guy about their age with a yellow sweater on underneath his Waffle House shirt, looks unimpressed and drops the menus on the table. Joel, noticing the waiter, straightens up.

The waiter says, “Yell for me when you're ready.” and leaves.

“Christ that dude is tall.” Joel remarks as soon as he’s gone.

“You’re just short.” Grian rolls his eyes and pulls the menu Jimmy was reaching for towards himself.

“Taller than you!” Joel says indignantly.

“Don't start,” Jimmy begs, head in his hands. Joel takes this as an opportunity to the remaining menu. Jimmy doesn’t react. They all know what they want anyway.

He twists around to wave the server over. He’s talking to the cook, who looks a little more stressed than Jimmy would like the person making his food to look, especially if they work at Waffle House. When the tall man notices, he pushes off the counter and heds over.

“What can I get you guys?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Jimmy catches his nametag: Wilbur.

“Double hashbrown, scattered and covered please.” Jimmy says, ignoring Grain’s responding gag. The server nods and turns to Joel, who’s puffing out his chest. Jimmy has to stare really hard at poor Wilbur’s beanie (red, a little dirty, definitely not in-uniform) to avoid Grian’s eye.

“All star breakfast, with bacon.” Joel replies and at least he’s not dropping his voice like he used to do in front of Lizzie all the time.

“Double waffles,” Grian says. “And we’ll all have orange juice.” Jimmy hates orange juice.

“It’s gonna be a while on those waffles.” Wilbur informs them. “We’ve only got one iron working at the moment and they”—he gestures behind him lazily to the other table— “all ordered waffles. That explains the cook’s expression. All three of them wince sympathetically.

“That’s fine.” Grian reassures him. Wilbur nods and leaves before Jimmy can remember he doesn’t like orange juice.

- - -

Their food comes fairly quickly, except for Grian and Joel’s waffles of course. “Yeah it’s gonna be about an hour.” the server tells them, faintly apologetic.

“Holy moly,” Jimmy breathes and Joel and Grian grimace in unison.

“We’ll wait,” Grian tells him.

“Waffle House welcomes you 24 hours a day.” Wilbur replies flatly before leaving, clearly quoting something from his training. Joel snorts into his food.

Jimmy slides his orange juice across the table to Grian. “Timmy, you've got to get your Vitamin C.” Grian says, taking a massive gulp of Jimmy’s orange juice. “What if you get scurvy or something?”

“I’m not getting scurvy.” Jimmy says and starts eating.

“You’re eating potatoes and cheese; that’s not exactly a balanced diet.”

“He does have a point.” Joel agrees, mouth full.

“You’re not any better!” Jimmy doesn’t exactly yell, and Joel and Grian both shush him.

- - -

Thirty minutes later, hashbrowns long gone, Jimmy has his head on the table, pillowed under his arms, half-asleep. Grian and Joel have been talking about this ghost-hunting video game for at least twenty minutes. While Jimmy plays it all the time with them, he barely knows the rules, nevermind the intricate strategies they’re discussing. Instead he lets their voices wash over him and, between them and the rain. He’s almost—

Jimmy sits bolt upright and blurts, “It’s raining?”

Grian and Joel pause to exaggeratedly glance between him, the window, and each other.

“Indeed it is, Timmy,” Grian claps mockingly. “Well done.” Jimmy groans.

“No, walking back is gonna be a pain.”

“Neither of you have an umbrella?” Grian asks, somehow surprised.

“I’m sure it’ll clear up soon.” Joel tells Jimmy. They both leave Grian's question unanswered.

- - -

Twenty minutes later, the rain hasn’t cleared up and, in fact, has gotten much worse. The water’s coming down in sheets angled by the wind. Jimmy was woken up by a loud crack of thunder and nearly jumped out of his seat, much to Joel and Grian’s amusement.

A little while later, Wilbur comes by with their waffles. “Sorry for the wait,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll bring your bill in a moment, you guys paying separately or together?”

“Seperate,” Jimmy mumbles distractedly staring out the window at the storm. He can’t even see the streetlight by the bus stop.

The server pauses and adds, a little more sincerely this time, “You really are welcome to stay as long as you gotta.”

“Thanks,” Joel grins around a mouthful of waffle.

“Gross,” Grian groans around his own mouthful of waffle. Wilbur leaves, somehow looking both disgusted and disinterested.

Jimmy’s startled out of his storm-induced daze when every phone in the building goes off in quick succession. He scrambles to silence his, not even reading the warning displayed on the screen.

“Flood warning,” Joel reads. “No shit.” Flooding does indeed seem like a given as water streams down the sidewalk and starts to puddle over the one visible storm drain.

Jimmy drums his fingers on the table. His backpack is water resistant, but that doesnt mean much in a storm like this. None of them even have an umbrella or even jackets; it had been so warm that evening.

“I think we should wait.” He says.

“I’m not getting my laptop wet.” Joel agrees.

“Fine,” Grian sighs. It’s almost 2 am.

- - -

By 2:15, they’ve paid and their dishes sit in a neat stack next to a not insignificant cash tip that the three of them pooled together.

“For you and the poor man with only one waffle iron.” Grian tells Wilbur when he comes to collect their plates and raises an eyebrow at the bills. He actually laughs as he tucks it apron pocket.

When he leaves their table, they hear him yell, “Hey old man, tip for you!” and fall over each other trying not to laugh too loudly.

- - -

By 2:30, the rain has slowed enough that Jimmy can actually see through it. A couple, two college-aged women, had emerged suddenly into the yellow-white light of the Waffle House sign. Now, they stand by the counter, dripping.

“You can, like, walk but it sucked.” Jimmy hears one of them tell the cook, a little too casually for someone who was just out in the middle of a flood warning. The other apologizes profusely to Wilbur who’s brought over a mop.

Grian’s entertaining himself on Jimmy’s phone, so Jimmy looks over to Joel, who said he restarted his reading but is actually on his phone. Joel, as if sensing Jimmy’s gaze, looks up. “I don't wanna be stuck here all night with no sleep—we’re supposed to meet Lizzie for breakfast before work” he says a little sadly. Grian looks up from Angry Birds to glance between them.

Jimmy weighs his options. On the one hand, his laptop is out of warranty and he can’t afford to get it or his notes wet. On the other hand, Lizzie’s busy all weekend and the only chance she has to see Grian is at some cafe 20 minutes away tomorrow morning. At 8 am.

“It’s still pouring.” Grian complains. “Give it a bit.” They give it a bit.

- - -

By 2:45, the rain has barely slowed while Jimmy definitely has. He and Grian started stacking creamer pods and every so often Jimmy knocks them over and just stares, blinking, while Grian cackles.

He sets down the creamer he was about to stack and whines, “We can’t stay here any longer.”

Joel snaps his book closed and jumps up. “Right, let’s get going then so we can sleep and then wake up on time because I refuse to be late to meeting Lizzie.” He leans across the table, reaching for his bag, as he says this.

“Wait, wait, hang on a minute,” Grian says, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Can we be smart about this please?”

Joel, practically laying on the table to reach his bag tucked against the window with one hand while balancing off Jimmy’s shoulder with the other, says, “I’m always smart.”

“Uh-huh,” Grian says, unconvinced, and slides out past Joel's legs to talk to the cook, who’s leaning against the counter looking half-asleep. Jimmy manages to escape from Joel to stand and laughs as Joel flounders, trying not to fall off the table.

Joel’s upright by the time Grian returns with a small trashbag. Jimmy squints at the trashbag, trying to understand. “Wha’s that for?” he asks after Grian fails to explain, clearly more amused by Jimmy’s sleepy confusion.

“Well if you put something in here, you can keep it dry.” Grian starts, condescending. Jimmy blinks, still catching up. “Gosh, Tim, you really need to sleep.” Grian laughs, breaking character. “Put your laptops in here and then in Tim’s bag.” He instructs Joel. Jimmy just moves away and lets Joel handle things, swaying where he stands.

“Jesus Tim, you big baby,” Grian complains, propping him up a little with his shoulder.

Joel straightens up from where he was rearranging their stuff and hands Jimmy his bag. “Let’s get this show on the road!” He says, clapping his hands together once they’re free.

“Thank you, have a good night!” Grian calls to the Waffle House employees as he none-too-gently herds Jimmy out the door.

“Stay dry!” Wilbur calls after them from where he’s leaned next to the grill, blowing vape smoke up the exhaust.

“Complete dumbasses,” Jimmy hears the cook laugh as the door closes behind them.

He’s immediately soaked, barely three steps out the door and much more awake. The wind has died down considerably, which Jimmy is grateful for. “Lucky it’s not as windy,” he remarks, though he’s practically yelling to be heard over the rainfall and water rushing down the street gutters.

“Lucky?” Joel repeats, indignant.

“Oh yeah, let’s talk about how lucky this weather is!” Grian yells. He’s leading them across the parking lot like he knows where he’s going. Water sluices across their shoes as they push uphill, flooding Jimmy’s sneakers.

“It absolutely could be worse!” Jimmy argues. As if on cue: a distant rumble of thunder.

“Shut it.” Joel says, pointing at Jimmy threateningly. “If we get struck by lighting and miss breakfast, Lizzie’ll kill me.” This is, of course, not the threat he wants it to be and Grian and Jimmy fall over each other with laughter. When they finally straighten up, Joel is ahead of them and they rush—Jimmy slipping and nearly falling—to catch up.

“Do you guys remember that episode of Mythbusters?” Jimmy asks, once he’s caught his footing—and his breath—a bit.

“Which episode?” Joel asks, not kindly. “They made a lot.”

“About running versus walking in the rain?” Grian asks.

“Yeah!” Jimmy exclaims. “You remember the conclusion? I don’t.”

“No,” Grian admits and Joel groans.

“Why’d you bring it up if you don't remember the conclusion?” he asks the sky, throwing his head back.

“I thought Grian might!” Jimmy protests but he’s drowned out by Joel making choking noises. They all stop immediately.

“I just swallowed so much rainwater.” Joel croaks, looking a little red but fine, and Jimmy has to laugh.

“Why would you look up when it’s raining?” Grian admonishes, but he’s rubbing the part of Joel’s back that isn’t covered by his bag.

“I wasn’t thinking.” Joel straightens up and Jimmy doubles over, laughing harder. “C’mon let’s keep moving.” He tugs Jimmy’s arm.

“He’s delirious.” Grian says, pushing Jimmy from behind.

Together, they push-pull Jimmy to the intersection before the campus entrance and, with barely a glance, decide to cross without waiting for the crosswalk light. There’s no traffic anyway and, unsurprisingly, no one else out as they make their way to Jimmy and Joel’s dorm.

They make one last turn and, as if on cue, the rain slows to a steady drizzle. Jimmy, too tired to be mad, tilts his head back to feel the rain across his face.

“This is fucking bullshit.” Joel gripes.

“You’re the one who wanted to leave right then.” Grian points out, his own tiredness removing the usual sharpness of his teasing edge.

“Oh I’m Grian and I can perfectly predict the weather.” Joel says mockingly, never too tired to be insulted.

Grian, of course, has to respond. “Oh, I’m Joel and I’m so worried my girlfriend’s gonna be mad at me I make my friends walk half a mile in the middle of a flood warning.”

Before Joel can reply, Jimmy steps between them and slings an arm over each of their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here this weekend.” He says. He’s sleepy and a little too earnest and probably putting a little too much weight on his friends but he’s ridiculously happy to have his two best friends with him.

“Gross Tim,” Grian and Joel complain in unison, but neither of them move away.

By the time they’re squelching up the stairs and entering the dorm the rain has stopped completely. Joel and Jimmy’s room is illuminated by moonlight streaming in through the permanently broken blinds. Joel immediately starts spreading his notes out on the air conditioning unit to dry. Jimmy finds a pair of shorts and a t-shirt (that was probably Grian's to begin with) to give Grian to sleep in. He grabs his towel and slimy shower caddy and heads to the hall’s bathrooms.

When he gets back, there’s wet stuff everywhere and the room is starting to smell like wet dog and sweaty boys and old pennies. Whatever, that’s a problem for Monday Jimmy.

Jimmy pulls on the shorts and t-shirt he uses as pajamas and clambers onto his slightly too-tall bed. Grian’s already made himself comfortable and he squints, half-asleep, at Jimmy. “That’s my t-shirt,” he grumbles.

“Shush,” Jimmy replies, nudging Grian to the side so he can fully fit on his own bed. Grian, begrudgingly, accommodates him. Jimmy falls asleep tucked against Grian’s familiar frame, tired and happy and finally dry.

#life series #traffic smp #bad boys #limited life #jimmy solidarity #grian #smallishbeans #limited life smp #my fic #chaddex #lddf-verse

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v-taehyung-kim · 2 years

Text

Mr. Jeon

“So, class, is that understood?”

What? What is meant to be understood? Fuck. I stared at him too long and zoned the FUCK out.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” said the class in unison while I just… sat there. My face gives away my confusion and well, just like every-fucking-thing else, shit is against me. For some reason my face just cannot hide my true emotions, so I’m an open book for EVERYONE to read. I can’t even lie, which is so useless in any school setting. Well this is University, but y’know , same thing.

“Miss y/l/n, kindly stay after class, I’d like to have a quick word,” Mr. Jeon says rather sternly, which is amazing it’s exactly what my soul wants to be fed with. Uh, a hot, sassy, stern and HANDSOME man? Yeah, I’ll take the whole lot, thanks. Also, it’s technically professor Jeon, but he likes to be a little more casual with us.

God Y/N can you quit rambling within your own head?

As the rest of the class heads out the lecture room, I gather my things and head up to the teacher’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, awkwardly laughing. Does saying ha-ha literally count as laughing at all…? Fuck he’s talking-

“-and that’s not trouble as such, however, passing this class requires full attention.”

“Uh, sir, with all due respect, I’m doing fairly well in the tests recently, being a bit lost-in-the-daydream, or, I don’t know, zoning out thinking about something exciting, is, in my humble opinion, normal…yes?” I say fumbling with the corner of my skirt, which I definitely wore to get his attention. But I’m making a solid point here!

“Lost in the daydream? What are you talking about?”

“Uh. Isn’t that what you’re raising an issue with?”

“No, Miss Y/L/N but that is also proving to be a problem. Hmm. No, I was talking about not overloading your course load this semester with extra classes. Graduating early sounds great, only if you’re physically capable. I thought you were looking quite ill, for as long as you’ve been in my class. But I see now that’s just you zoning out? And every class?” He says, crossing his arms against his chest and furrowing his eyebrows. Phew that’s HOT. Okay no focus. For once, focus.

To be fair, I understand him. I zone out in all of his classes, daydreaming about him. I know I have to impress him though so I make an extra effort to rewatch his lectures and perform well in the tests. Well, that is actually tiring me out. Maybe I am sick?

Sick in loooove-

“Miss Y/L/N?”

God if I hear that from his mouth one more time-

“No, yeah, it’s a problem. I don’t know. I’m so sorry Mr. Jeon. Rest assured, I’m able to handle my schedule, at least so far I have been able to. Thank you for your concern!” I smile awkwardly, moving to the right to exit the class.

“If paying attention is hard, feel free to ask for help to repeat or explain any concept you need. I can let you know when I’m not in class, and you can visit my office.”

He said WHAT?

Uh.

Yeah, no, I’m gonna take him up on that fucking offer.

“Really? Yes, that would be very helpful. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll email you my schedule. Come with good questions.” He says and gets to clearing the whiteboard.

I awkwardly smile again, with my teeth forming a box, and leave.

Okay.

Time to process what happened.

Is he interested in me? No. He doesn’t give that vibe, at all. He probably thinks I’m an air head and doesn’t realise that I’ve the fattest and fastest growing crush on him, so that’s good.

He literally doesn’t care about me. That’s good. A one sided crush and I can fantasise about him all I want. Everything is better in my head anyway.

Reality is no good.

————-

It’s good that I actually have questions and this is actually a fantastic opportunity to learn better from someone that has researched this topic.

Definitely not just an amazing opportunity to potentially have his babies. Nah, a long way to go for that.

I pack up my notes and a bunch of highlighters- because I’m so shit at being organised I just keep loose highlighters, pens, you name it. At least I have some? Does the job.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you so much for giving me your time like this,” I said, blushing, because wow this is so… I mean… we’re alone in his office.

He chose to see me after he was done for the day but still in office to do some grading, which is good because I don’t need to feel pressured that he has another class coming up.

“Oh no worries. Anything for a bright student like yourself.”

Fuck, there I go blushing again.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like the heat really got to you today?”

Oh yeah, the heat radiating off your body- SHUT THE FUCK UP Y/N AND SAY SOMETHING!

But you just asked me to shut up?

Quit talking to yourself in your head dumbass and SAY SOMETHING-

And my face just for redder in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, phew, it’s HOT outside today!” I said, quite loudly, which is EXTREMELY awkward. Fantastic.

“Here, I’ll turn this aircon on for you. Don’t worry about it, get comfortable,” he says, turning the aircon on. Honestly that would be nice.

I take a seat by his desk and pull out my notes.

“So, I actually do have questions, but some might be out of curriculum. I went down a rabbit hole whilst researching the answers to my questions, and it only led to more questions.” I said, gathering myself and actually getting serious.

‘Actually getting serious’ you’re such a joke y/n-

-DON’T talk to me I’ve got shit to do!

You’re talking to yourself-

Ssh he’s talking!

“Classic sign of a good student. Your curiosity is valuable, hold onto it. Ask away, love.” He says, smiling so cutely, fuck.

‘LOVE?’

LOVE??????????????? NO NO NO I CANNOT ZONE OUT-

I clear my throat and ask my first question.

“Can you please explain the embryological development of the small and large intestines? I don’t know if it’s my lack of spatial imagination but I cannot visualise the twisting and turning, the umbilical cord and literally everything else.” The words came pouring out, and I’m thankful for that.

“Ah, of course. Let me draw it out for you, love.”

This is gonna be hell.

——

“It’s satisfying to have my questions answered, I must say. And I’m impressed you answered every single one, somehow?” I said, quite casually.

It took one session for me to actually become comfortable with him, and he’s actually more human that I expected him to be. He’s so dreamy, I didn’t think he’d be normal. And funny. And sweet. And cute. I’m in love.

“Well, I aim to please.” He said… slightly smirking and looking away.

This bitch.

Please me.

“Haha, yeah…” of course I’m fucking awkward, how else do I respond to that?

“So are you pleased?

“Uh, yeah. I did say it was satisfying.”

“Well, mission accomplished. I’d love to be of help to you, love.” He said, very casually, making it look like none of this sounds strangely sexual. Maybe it’s in my head because I’m a horndog for him, so sure.

“Oh man, I really need to head out to get some groceries before I get home. Would you like me to drop you home?” He says, packing things up along with me.

Classic. Yes take me home.

“That’s really kind of you, I’d love that. I mean not love, I just mean, it’ll be really nice, nice I guess in a way that I won’t have to take public transport at rush hour-“

“- I get it, Miss Y/L/N, I’d love to take you home.”

Oh hell no.

Not in my head.

Not in my HEAD.

But he LOOKS LIKE IT MEANS NOTHING? It doesn’t sound suggestive… I’m a fuckin’ creep.

“Haha, okay… I can come to the grocery store too. I live alone, so I need to figure this out.”

“Oh? I live alone as well, I have the same reasons.”

Come to think of it, he does look very young, and he is actually the youngest in our faculty. But being young doesn’t mean you can’t have a wife or a husband.

———

This grocery store is as dead as his feelings for me. Fun.

He’s picking out the good tomatoes from the bad, and I’m hoping he squishes my tomato-

That’s actually disgusting, y/n. Get a hold of yourself.

What do I say then? Pick my strawberry? Peel my banana? Mash my potato? Tear my clothes off like tearing layers off an onion? FUCK-

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

“Aren’t you going to… buy something? You’re just standing there?”

He thinks I’m a fucking creep, I know it.

“Yeah, nah, just thinkin’, “ I say, extra casually, y’know, because I’m cool. Keeping it cool. Smooth. Ice. Chill. Freezin’.

Simpin’.

“Thinking about what, this time? I’d love to know what you zone out about.”

Why is so fucking hot?

“Uh, haha, not much really!”

“Not much? You Zone out every 10 minutes.” Damn he noticed, huh?

It’s true, though.

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve heard it’s rude to ask someone to tell you their deepest darkest secrets.”

Why did I say that

Why

Did I say that

“Call me Jungkook.”

…..

Take a deep breath…

I’M ABOUT TO-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP AND REPLY BEFORE HE THINKS YOU’RE INSANE!

“J-j-uh.. j-j-uhhh-jungkook?” I say awkwardly, scratching my head and squinting my eyes, breathing heavily.

“That’s right, love. Jungkook. Can I call you y/n? I mean, we’re not that far apart in age and we’re not at Uni. If you’re okay with that of course, I respect your space.” CONSENT, BABY!

I guess we aren’t that far apart in age. But it’s a bit too much for my heart and my tomato to hear my name coming from his mouth.

“Y-yeah! Psshh, duh! Of course. Yeah no that’s all good.” I say laughing a bit too loudly and grabbing onto our cart, only to fail to actually grab onto it, nearly fucking TRIPPING.

“Sorry, haha, senses not working today. Heatstroke, remember?” No, y/n, that makes no sense you never had a heatstroke and if you did, you wouldn’t be here.

“Y/n,” he says, getting serious for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Crap.

I sigh.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m a little ditzy, that’s all.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s adorable.” He mumbles, smiling and looking away.

Yeah you stare at those damn tomatoes after turning me into one.

I’m… adorable? My exes all called me annoying, so, yeah.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah. It’s really cute how you get awkward, and sometimes ramble and fumble, I take notice of it all.” He smirks, adorably so.

Wait, that’s so… sweet.

“Oh, haha… yeah, I’m…I do that alright…” I nervously play with my fingers, looking down.

“Come on love, let’s get you your groceries.”

He pushes me along by my shoulders, laughing.

He ended up getting all my veggies in the cart, and nearly doing all the work for me. I just said the word, and he’d put it in the cart.

I’m feeling things.

Paying for my bit and him paying for his, we get in his car.

I forgot he’s Mr. Jeon for this entire duration…

“Jungkook?” I ask, as he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“Yes, love?”

Stop sounding like my boyfriend, fuck.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be so casual? You’re my professor?” I feel awkward even asking this question because now I’ve made things weird.

“How do you mean? We’re okay. I’m sorry, did I make you feel weird?”

No, please keep going.

“Oh no, it’s not something you did. It’s okay, haha.”

He turns to me and looks into my eyes for about 30 seconds. I’m worried about what he’s about to say.

“I think you’re really funny, y/n. And a bright student, I loved teaching you more about what we studied. It’s fun for me, as a teacher. I just think you’re interesting as a person.”

Somehow, I could tell by his face that he felt a bit conflicted but tried to make it sound okay.

“That means a lot to me, jungkook.”

———

A few weeks went by and we were getting closer at the speed of light.

I realised he’s so much more loveable and attractive than whatever his exterior shows. It started off as a crush on my hot teacher, but he’s such an amazing guy. He’s so gentle, listens so well, understands me, is so sweet and smiles so genuinely. He puts up no front, he’s so real and true to himself, his pure heart shines through. He’s generous, and actively gives back to the community. He makes the lamest jokes, and at the same time, is the smartest man in the room.

I’m fucked to say the least.

Here is walking perfection within my reach and now actually a close friend of mine, and I can’t even tell him how beautiful he is.

Weird to call him a friend, but we just connect so well.

“Jungkook, I swear, this shit has me turning my brain inside out. Draw this out too, please.” I say, sitting on his couch cross legged, staring at my notes.

“Y/N, for the last time, it doesn’t get simpler than this diagram right here. Even if I want to draw this, it’ll be the same as the diagram.” He says calmly, looking directly at me.

“Alright, fine. Can we take a break? My brain is fried, I can’t even comprehend the page number. Like, what? How did I get to page 254 when I was page 250?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

I awkwardly look towards my left and right before answering. “Uh??? Noooo? Of course not? I just, you know, yeah…”

“…yeah, okay, break time.”

I sigh in frustration as he gets up to clear the table away and put our notes aside.

I pull out my phone to scroll through Instagram to scroll till my brain is positively hollow, but then jungkook calls out my name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm.”

“Love?”

Jesus fucking-

My head immediately snaps up and he smirks, seeing how I immediately respond to that.

He laughs a bit, and I blush knowing he’s caught me.

“Come here, love.”

Come here? Where? There?!

I get up and move towards him, and wait for him.

He pulls me into a hug and gently puts his hands in my hair, massaging my head.

“You must be tired. And this is going to sound strange but… you make me protective over you, with how adorable you can be. I’m sorry if it sounds inappropriate. I mean this with sincerity and care.” He says so softly, I’m going to yell.

Yell and screech, bitch.

“Jungkook, that’s incredibly sweet…” I breathe him in, and it ends up being audible.

He laughs at that, and hugs me tighter.

I’m in love. I don’t want more than him.

“I’m here, know that.” He says, so gently I could cry.

“And I’m here.”

We look into each others eyes and I feel all my love for him at once.

He smiles at me, putting stray bits of hair behind my ears.

His emotions seem so genuine, that he really cares for me.

“I’m here.” He says, again.

“And I’m here.”

We smile together, and I decide I want to squeeze him tight.

————-

Y’know, if I wasn’t sure before, I’m sure of it now.

I love him.

It’s true, it’s no longer a crush.

This has been a bad idea. I can’t even actually date him, so what the fuck do I do now?

I’ve been staring at him in class the entire time and I’ve completely zoned out. I know he knows it, he gave me a suspicious look. It’s fantastic, I’m exposing my own ass.

But he’s been staring at me too, every now and then. He looks my way so many times, it’s probably noticeable to others. Good thing I’m sort of hidden away.

But he probably looks at me like his younger sister, since I don’t see him making any particular moves or saying anything that’s remotely romantic.

He’s definitely not into me.

The class gets over and I head directly towards the exit because god knows, I need a break from FEELINGS.

“Miss y/l/n. Please come to my desk. Now.” Girl, I-

“Yes, sir.”

The classroom is now empty and I’m standing before him all awkward.

“Sir?” I say, looking at him, who is looking at me.

“Sir? Really?”

“What? Are you not my teacher? Professor? Sir seems like the obvious thing to call you.”

“And yet you talk to me like that? If you’re being professional, you may as well be more formal.”

“Uh, okay. Hello, sir. What is it that you wanted to speak to me about? I apologise if I caused any inconvenience.”

“As a matter of fact, you did, miss y/l/n.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What is it that I did?”

“Look, y/n. I noticed you really were not paying attention today, and you know this class is important for the upcoming test! The inconvenience is grading you badly!”

I want you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Come on, y/n. Your head has been in the clouds recently! You don’t ask me more questions, you’ve been doing the bare minimum!”

Can I marry you?

“No, yeah, I know.”

“I’m glad that you do but do you realise what’s at stake here? You want to graduate early, yes? Well failing a class will only delay the process! Come on…” he continues to talk, but honestly, I’m just lost in his eyes.

I like it when he yells. So passionate. His eyes are so lovely, so cute. Can I look into them forever? I’d love to marry him. Right now. Okay, tomorrow. He’s so perfect. Does he have eye dimples? Of course he does. I’ve known that from the beginning. I studied his face. Now I want to know more about him. Even more than I already do. He’s so… dreamy…

“Y/N! ARE YOU LISTENING?” He raises his voice, for the first time actually, and I jump in surprise.

“What in the world had gotten into you? Fuck. Meet me after my day ends, we need to discuss this.” He says, and leaves immediately.

Well.

Fuck.

————

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU’VE BEEN SLACKING?”

I’m sitting on his couch, listening to him get mad at me. Shucks, I fell in love with you, sue me.

“Y/N, I understand slacking off is not a conscious choice and you’re probably dealing with something and asking you to “get your act together” is the worst form of support and dismisses the root problem. So, talk to me. Please, love. I care for you.” He says, sighing.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to.” He apologises, looking down.

You’re so intelligent and kind to me. I love you.

I love you.

“I love you.”

I think out loud, and immediately turn pale.

“What?”

“I love your kindness!”

“You didn’t say that,”

“No, no, sorry I didn’t complete my thought haha! Okay I need to get home now, I left frozen chicken breast out to defrost and I need to cook it. I just remembered!” I say hurriedly and attempt to get up.

Pushing me back down, he sits on the couch next to me and takes my face into his hands.

It doesn’t take a second before he places his lips on mine and I think I’m about to lose my mind.

He’s so soft, so gentle, but so passionate and… I open my mouth to let him enter and I really do believe I’m going to pass out.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans, and it makes me groan.

He pulls away to look into my eyes.

Do I even want to know what he’s going to say next?

#jungkook one shot #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook oneshot

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foliosriot · 1 year

Text

between the charcoal & the cigarette smoke (6159 words)

artist!steve harrington x eddie munson ao3 if that’s what you prefer :)

drawing has been the only thing maintaining steve’s sanity. between school, his parents, and the little gremlins he is somehow friends with, drawing keeps him calm and distracted (most of the time, at least).

because if he were being honest, he never expected to actually be good at drawing when he first started out in middle school. but one minute, he was doodling stick figures on his math homework, and the next, he was submitting his pieces into the hawkins high’s art gallery. it felt great to finally be recognized for a talent that wasn’t basketball or swim.

but as suspected, his parents — most notably his father — did not believe his artistic abilities were going to get him anywhere in life, or provide him with a well-paying, respectable job; that it was blasphemy to believe a talent other than a sport would benefit him in the long run. steve constantly called bullshit on that but would never say it to his father’s face.

however, robin and dustin were the complete opposite, as they were overwhelmingly supportive of his artistic endeavors. they constantly wanted to know what he was working on and would snoop over his shoulder when he was doing nothing but simply doodling. they were incredibly kind and enthusiastic about his passion, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to slap both of them on occasion due to their nosiness.

it’s steve’s senior year of high school. he’s taking art classes both semesters, and they’re honestly the only things he is looking forward to regarding school other than graduating.

for first semester his drawing class is the last of the day. he sits in the far back corner, furthest from the door. from there, steve can get away with sketching and doodling his classmates as an excuse to work on different angles of the human body. sometimes, if he likes the sketch enough, he’ll hand it off to that person. (he remembers one time he did a doodle he was incredibly proud of of penny young. the shy, soft spoken girl started tearing up when she realized what it was. the interaction had made steve’s entire month.)

if he had to guess, steve is sure that he has drawn just about every one of his art class classmates at least five times in the first couple months of school. and, much like most forms of art, he never liked the end result, even if he knew subconsciously he wouldn’t be handing it off to whomever he’d drawn.

steve huffed a quiet sigh as he pushed aside his half-finished project that is fortunately due next week. he didn’t have the motivation that the piece demanded at the moment, so he instead opted for people watching, propping his chin up on his palm.

in the front row he spotted noah truman. the kid was one of the best basketball players steve has ever seen, so that granted him instant popularity. but noah was also incredibly kind and humble, something that lacked amongst the popular cliques like a famine.

a row behind noah, three seats to his right, was mary peters. she was an insanely talented artist who just so happened to be friends with robin. mary played flute in band and steve can recall a few instances where robin had mentioned her by name.

to mary’s right in the back row steve saw—

his attention was immediately drawn to the classroom door swinging open, and in walked eddie munson. the wild-haired boy looked a little flustered as he entered, briefly pausing in the doorway before shambling to the nearest open desk. whispers from various people disturbed the quiet classroom at eddie’s entrance.

he watched as eddie fumbled around with what little school supplies he had. he watched eddie's hair bounce against his shoulders and the way his large, gaudy rings glinted in the harsh classroom lighting. the burn rising up his neck that would inevitably shade his entire face in a bright cherry red forced steve to turn his attention away.

eddie is on his second attempt at senior year. he’s known around school as “the freak”, a moniker that has always baffled steve. but it was also something steve didn't want to know more about. although, unfortunately, over the years he's been able to assume just what people meant when they called eddie a freak.

the super senior is the head of the hellfire club, the dungeons and dragons club, and is probably the most flamboyant person steve has ever encountered. his devil may care attitude was undoubtedly annoying at times, but steve couldn’t help but admire it, as well as just eddie himself. eddie is never not unapologetically himself day in and day out. steve wishes he could have just an ounce of eddie's confidence.

steve also finds eddie insanely intriguing for reasons unknown. maybe it was the way he held himself so confidently, or maybe the hair atop his head that looked so soft, or maybe even the way eddie could set ablaze a wildfire inside steve without even trying.

okay, maybe steve was a little hasty with his definition of “intriguing” . frankly, eddie is intriguing, yes, but he is also insanely attractive. because billy hargrove may have been the one to kickstart steve into questioning his sexuality. but eddie had been the one to confirm his pondering.

steve wishes he could watch eddie play the guitar. the little rugrats have told steve countless stories of eddie, especially the ones of him playing his guitar. he always imagines eddie losing himself in the music as he strums manically and dances his fingers across the fingerboard expertly. he assumes eddie to be very talented at his craft, and the yearning to witness a performance of his in the pits of his soul is twisting up inside him with little to no remorse.

he’s never even had a legitmate conversation with the guy! but steve wishes he could. even if it’s in passing, like when he’s picking up the kids from hellfire. that's the only time eddie ever truly acknowledges steve.

steve knows he should continue working on his assignment. he knows watching eddie munson in the middle of art class is horribly idiotic for many reasons. but he opens up his sketchbook and begins sketching eddie anyways.

eddie is completely unassuming as he scribbles away on a sheet of paper. his hand is sporadically shifting across the page, his pencil squeaking on occasion. steve can’t see much of his face from behind his curtain of hair, but he can almost bet that eddie’s face is screwed up in concentration, solely dedicated to whatever he may be working on. steve aches to know what he may be writing or drawing.

after a few minutes and way too many looks up, steve lifts his head once more so he can get another glance at eddie in order to get his wild mop of hair just right. but as he does, he makes eye contact with eddie. they both have a certain look on their faces, like they weren’t expecting to be looking at each other at the same time. steve feels his ears instantly burst into flames with embarrassment, and does not hesitate before swiftly shifting his gaze back down to his sketchbook. he hadn’t realized it was steadily becoming filled with countless drawings of eddie.

by the time the final bell rang, steve shoved his things in to his backpack as fast as he could and hurried out the door. he could have sworn he felt someone’s piercing eyes on him as he headed down the hall towards the parking lot, but he didn’t dare look back; he needed to get himself and robin to work in time for their joint shift.

robin was leaning against the passenger side of steve’s car lazily picking at her nails when steve showed up. the best friends greeted each other as they got in to their respective seats in the beamer.

as he drove, half-listening to robin’s rambling about vickie and band class, steve still felt embarrassment digging through his chest from eddie catching him looking at him. it dug deep through his heart and lungs, and he couldn’t understand why. he just hoped it would diminish by the time art class came around tomorrow.

by the end of the week, steve had filled three more pages of his sketchbook of shaky and messy drawings of eddie munson. and he knew he would be drawing eddie even more in the future.

now, here steve sat in art class friday afternoon. he had sneakily angled his chair in a way so he could study eddie. steve wanted to get his facial features and curly, wild hair and his heavily ringed hands perfect. after all, eddie was just too much fun to not draw — his expressions and mannerisms were an absolute riot to scribble down and get just how he wanted.

at least that’s what steve thought before he eventually caught eddie’s eye again. it seemed as if eddie had been watching him long before steve had even lifted his head to look in the metalhead’s direction. when their eyes met, humiliation escalating speedily through steve's nervous system, eddie gave him a small tight-lipped smirk that felt strangely warm. steve couldn’t detect any anger or disgust, especially when eddie shot him a quick wink before casually bringing his attention back down to the piece of paper on the desk before him.

steve was rendered motionless and speechless, because what the fuck was that about? his mouth was hung open, the sensation of his tongue being exposed to the stale classroom air demanding he slam his teeth back together. so he did. the click of his jaw forced steve to silently sputter and look away from eddie’s relaxed form.

that interaction clung to the forefront of steve’s brain for the rest of class. it would not vacate his thoughts, even as robin rambled beside him in his car after school, with dustin cutting in occasionally from the backseat. his friends’ voices were simply serving as white noise as he mulled over eddie’s reaction from art class.

“oh!” the suddenness of robin’s tone shift was finally able to jolt steve out of his head. “did you finish the rough draft of my dnd character? dustin has been pestering me to pester you to get it done.”

dustin let out a yelp from behind steve, spitting out a defensive retort before turning around and just agreeing with robin’s statement.

steve rolled his eyes, momentarily tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “yeah,” he says. “it’s in my sketchbook. somewhere after the drawing i did for lucas.”

robin nodded in response in steve’s peripherals. she reached into the backseat and dug through steve’s backpack at an awkward angle in order to retrieve his sketchbook. (dustin honestly could have just handed it to her.) at last, she got it, and sat back in her seat properly before flipping through it to get to the page she was in search of.

after a few moments of pages whispering, robin spoke up, saying, “steve, i’m not finding it. are you sure you said—“

robin cut herself off, and it genuinely terrified steve to say the least.

”uh, rob? you good over there?” he asked her carefully.

”steve, why the fuck do you have, like, four pages filled with nothing but eddie munson?”

at his best friend’s words, steve could have sworn he stopped breathing. his eyes widened, and he could feel the telltale fiery sensation erupting in his chest of none other than embarrassment. dustin’s yell was no help either, certainly not when the boy lurched forward to join robin in looking down at his artwork.

he’s been fucking caught.

”th-that’s nothing- i didn’t tell you—“

”steve! why have you drawn eddie ‘the freak’ munson so fucking much?” robin snapped at him. her tone didn’t seem judgmental or condescending, or anything of that nature. she just seemed curious more than anything. but the bite in her voice still stung steve somewhere deep inside himself.

steve doesn’t give her an answer. he can feel dustin’s genuine surprise and interest radiating off of him from the back of the car. robin’s eyes were flickering between steve and the book in her hands, impatiently waiting for steve to speak. but he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything.

so he shrugged, leaving it at that.

robin and dustin continued to gaze down at the sketches and doodles of eddie munson in the precious pages of steve’s sketchbook. that fiery feeling had exploded into an inferno as he kept driving, coincidentally, to eddie’s trailer for a dnd night-in. it would be robin’s first proper game, and eddie had apparently made the decision of moving tonight’s session to his own home to give robin a nice, comforting welcome into hellfire. but when steve pulled into the itty-bitty yard out front of eddie’s trailer, a black hole opened up in his stomach, swallowing the wispy flames of the stupid fire within him.

dustin told him goodbye before rushing out of the car. robin carefully closed the sketchbook then set it on the dash. she looked over at steve, who was avoiding her eyes.

”we’re gonna talk about that sooner or later, steve,” she says gently. she opens the car door and starts getting out before pausing and turning in his direction for a moment. “but they’re really nice. you’re incredibly talented.”

then she shut the passenger side and headed after dustin. steve watched her walk inside the trailer, catching a glimpse of eddie just beyond the threshold. that’s when steve decided he needed to get out of there immediately.

putting the car into reverse, steve swerved out and away from the trailer park before heading back to loch nora for the night. at least until he had to go right back again to pick up robin and dustin. the pit of darkness inside of him just kept growing at what that could entail.

when steve arrived home, he hurried inside, hardly acknowledging the empty driveway. the emptiness of the large house felt like a tomb, something he hated even thinking about. so he tried to tune out the screaming silence as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall to his room.

the plaid wallpaper of his room felt pitiful. steve hated the choice but his mother had picked it so he had to be a good son and at least tolerate it. but he ignored the insipidness of his room as he began anxiously pacing.

robin was on to him. she was so on to him! there's no way she isn't, as they are twin flames, two sides of the same coin — honest to fucking god platonic soulmates.

just from the four or so pages of his sketchbook that she had seen, robin had to have been able to decipher just how steve felt about eddie, despite never really getting to properly meet him. the thought that she had figured him out so fast made vertigo cloud his senses, nausea tugging feriously at his intestines.

it wasn't that the idea of robin finding out that steve is (99.9% sure he is) bisexual isn't what is making him so skittish. because if anything, robin would love him regardless, that is if he liked both men and women, or if he grew an extra head that insisted on being called isildur.

he supposed it had to do with the fact that it would get out to the party eventually, especially if dustin had interpreted the myriad of eddie drawings correctly. either way, the drawings were going to reach the party one way or another, and thus make it all the way to eddie.

in all honesty, eddie finding out wasn't the most glaring side effect of steve's mishap; it was his reaction. for all steve knew eddie could blow up and want nothing more to do with steve. or — and, god, how this one makes his blood congeal in his veins — eddie ends up reciprocating.

steve didn't even know if eddie was gay! but all signs pointed to him being on one end of the queer spectrum or the other.

before he knew it, it was already 10 o'clock, meaning it was time to pick up dustin and robin from eddie's.

and if steve had to splash several handfuls of cold tap water to his face before he left the house, no one would know but him.

steve's entire body was jittery as he drove in the familiar direction of the trailer park. his fingers kept flexing against the steering wheel and his thighs were tense and his shoulders were pushing up towards his ears. he couldn't get his heart to slow down or blink away the faint swirls of black from his vision.

it just got worse as he rolled down the dirt road to eddie's trailer. there, he saw mike, will, and lucas already climbing into nancy’s car. the eldest wheeler gave him a kind wave as she drove past him.

in the pale light of the munson’s porch light, steve could see robin and dustin talking with eddie. the sight of all three of them together made his stomach toss and turn.

dustin gave a grand farewell to eddie before hopping down the porch steps to get into the car. he immediately began babbling on about what had happened in the campaign, even if steve wasn’t fully paying attention. because admittedly, he was much more focused on his best friend talking to his crush in soft voices.

before long, robin finally said goodbye to eddie and made it to the car. as steve waited for her to get in and buckled, he remained looking at eddie, who was softly illuminated by the withering lightbulb up and to the left. the boy was leaning against the front door just watching steve. a small smile was barely visible on his face.

that made steve panic, so he reached for the gearshift and quickly went into reverse before driving back to the main road.

robin and dustin were conversing about the campaign. all of their words went in one of steve's ears and immediately vacated through the other. his heart was rapidly bashing against his chest as he headed towards dustin's house. so it must be a good thing that he could get to the henderson house in his sleep as he had been disassociating the entire drive.

and before he knew it, the car was parked on the curb as dustin headed inside his home. as the curly-haired boy closed the front door behind him, steve released a heavy breath that had been torturing his diaphragm for the past ten minutes.

he shifted gears and they were off once more. but just a few minutes had passed before robin said something to him.

"sleepover?" she prompted gently.

steve shut his eyes for a brief moment. he glanced over at his best friend who was waiting patiently for him to answer.

"okay," he sighed. so steve didn't hesitate to take the road that would take him to his house instead of robin's.

they continued in silence and the trepidation that was looming in the backseat of his beemer was driving steve insane. he could feel it reaching forward with cold, dark claws that would inevitably sink hungrily into his flesh.

when they get to steve’s house, steve hurries and unlocks the front door, but he fumbles with his keyring. he can feel sweat beading along his hairline as he struggles to insert the proper key.

steve finally gets the door unlocked and pushes it open for robin. he steps inside after her, and, as he’s locking it back up, he begins anxiously stammering.

”i-i know you— what you thought w-when you s-saw the, uh, uh— drawings, and it’s not what—“

robin cuts him off. once steve has clearly succeeded in locking the door once more, robin gently slips her hands around his biceps. at the contact steve falls silent. his heart is throbbing violently in his throat and he doesn’t know if he can turn around and face his best friend.

”steve.”

at this point steve is choking on his heart. he can’t breathe, nor can he stop shaking like a fucking leaf. but he allows robin to carefully turn him towards her. once he’s facing robin, steve sees that she’s smiling fondly at him. the pressure from his very life force being lodged in his esophagus was causing tears to build up, thus blurring his vision.

“come on. let’s go upstairs,” robin tells him gently as she moves her hands down his arms until her fingers are laced through his own.

and steve lets her guide him up the stairs and to his room. he lets her close the bedroom door with a soft click. he lets her sit him down on his bed, his brain feeling like mush as they sit in silence for what feels like a century.

“tell me what’s going on,” robin says. her voice is gentle and it soothes steve like no other.

steve breathes heavily for a few moments before he feels ready to speak. he gingerly fingers at the hem of his jeans.

”i didn’t even mean to do it,” he begins. “i didn’t consciously decide i-i was gonna end up with, um . . . with so many drawings of—“

he cuts himself off. he can’t say his name. he can’t utter eddie’s name, because if he does, it becomes real. whatever it is becomes real. steve can’t do this.

”it’s okay, steve.” robin lightly places her hand on his knee. “take your time.”

steve clenches his jaw. he squeezes his eyes shut and he wishes the tears burning his retinas would make him go blind. he wishes that, if that were to happen, robin would forget all about the stupid drawings and just leave it be.

but steve knows he needs to get this out. he knows he needs to figure this shit out. and who else better than his lesbian best friend?

after a rattly deep breath, steve finally goes on.

”for practice, i draw my art classmates,” he explains quietly. “i’ll sketch them a couple times before moving on to the next person. but when eddie came in to class the other day, i just . . . i couldn’t stop drawing him. i just kept drawing and sketching, and i honestly didn’t care when he caught me looking at him. shit, he winked at me!

”but, uh . . . i-i think i’ve always, always had this thing. um, like, just a want to talk to eddie. especially since the little gremlins became freshmen and joined hellfire. th-that’s when i got all the stories of him that weren’t rumors. when i got so much unwanted information about a guy i-i don’t even truly know.

”then it got to the point where i just . . . god, i just wanted to fucking know him. and from there came a little light in my stomach, a-and i—“ steve sniffled deeply. “i haven’t felt like this since nance. i haven’t felt such want since i liked nancy. and i’m terrified. i don’t think eddie even likes me, like, at all. probably still thinks that i’m . . . i’m a douchebag.”

steve pauses. his heart is galloping wildly like a horse inside his chest. he can feel the throbbing of his pulse just under his jawline. he’s uncomfortable, but the look robin has fixed on him is so kind and loving.

”i think i like him, rob. like . . . like him.”

robin was quiet after steve finished talking. she stroked his leg with her thumb idly, her fingernail barely grazing his pant leg.

then she spoke.

”thank you for telling me, steve,” she tells him. “and i need you to know that this does not change my perspective of you. i love you no matter what.

”but, if you want some advice, i think you should tell eddie. either tell him, or start a friendship with him. i think he’d like that just as much as you.”

steve spent the weekend obsessing over what he was going to say to eddie. how he was going to say it. when he was going to say it. he was obsessing in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

when monday came, steve finally felt prepared enough to talk to eddie. he had more than one personal pep talks in to himself in the mirror, and he felt confident enough that he could at least start a conversation.

however, when fifth period was nearing its end, steve knew he was going to fuck this all up. he knew this would end both in tears and flames if he didn’t back out now. but robin had been so insistent that he talk to eddie. she seemed so sure of a positive outcome.

so with only a few minutes to spare, steve ignored the finale of his teacher’s lecture and wrote a quick note that he was going to subtly drop in to eddie’s locker. he wrote: if you’re okay with it, i’d really like to sit with you during art. -s.h

and he did just that as he was walking past eddie’s locker to get to art. nobody seemed to notice what he was doing or even seemed to care. but steve felt a tidal wave of pride and relief overcome him as he made his way to sixth period.

steve was buzzing with nervous, jittery energy as he waited for eddie’s inevitable entrance. his leg was bouncing and his heart rate was skyrocketing.

by the time the bell rang, signaling sixth period had begun, eddie still hadn’t shone. but was steve truly surprised? no, not entirely. eddie was notorious for being late and skipping classes entirely.

he was quickly losing hope. he couldn’t stand the thought of eddie not showing. because here he was, missing eddie munson. maybe he should give up this stupid crush. maybe robin was wrong, that her odd optimism was misplaced.

steve didn’t bother acknowledging the opening of the classroom door. he was halfheartedly working on his art project as someone sat down in the chair next to him. and that’s when he felt his heart take a nosedive deep into his intestines.

”psst.”

no. this could not be fucking happening.

”hey.”

maybe this was a dream, and steve will wake up in a few seconds.

”hey, stevie.”

fuck.

steve froze. he slowly angled his head to look at the body next to him. his eyes widened to see that eddie “the freak” munson was smiling small at him. eddie’s hair was as wild as ever. his rings were bold and shiny. and his eyes—

oh god, his eyes. his brown doe eyes were so beautiful this close. but there was a smudging of black underneath them. and it took steve a second to realize that eddie was wearing eyeliner.

holy shit, eddie was going to be the death of him.

”hi,” eddie said quietly when steve was finally looking at him, albeit red as a cherry. eddie reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, taking out a folded piece of paper. “i got your note.”

steve was rendered completely speechless. he could not believe what was happening right now. maybe he was going crazy? maybe he really was dreaming, and this was the part of the dream right before it altered into a terrifying nightmare of epic proportions?

but the way eddie was looking at him was mesmerizing. his face was relaxed and happy as he kept on staring at steve. if this was a dream, steve wishes he would never, ever wake up.

”um—“

steve couldn’t utter anything else. his throat was dry and he felt like he was on the verge of having a breakdown. but eddie just smiled bigger at him.

”here let me try this again.” eddie stuck out his right hand, and steve’s attention was immediately drawn to the prominent veins and the tarnished silver ring. “hi, i’m eddie. it’s nice to meet you.”

steve was definitely going into cardiac arrest. he was such a fucking goner.

but he still reached out and shakily placed his hand in eddie’s, and was quickly taken aback by the callouses that rubbed against his softer skin. honestly, it wasn’t unpleasant. steve kind of liked it.

”uh, i-i’m steve,” he stammered. “nice to meet you.”

eddie gave him a toothy grin as he gently retracted his hand. the metalhead folded his arms on the desk before him then laid his head down, his right cheek pressed down so he could remain looking at steve.

”not to be too forward or anything, stevie—“ steve had a tiny coronary at the usage of that nickname again “—but henderson may have mentioned some drawings. i would love to see them.”

steve was going to kill dustin. it wasn’t an if anymore; it was a when and where. he was going to destroy dustin if it were the last thing he would ever do.

although, steve couldn’t blame dustin entirely. dustin saw some doodles in steve’s sketchbook of his other older guy friend, one of whom he looks up to very much. of course, he was going to say something to said other older guy friend.

it took a moment for steve to collect himself before he was clumsily reaching for his sketchbook. with shaking hands, he flipped to the pages that were filled with nothing but eddie. and once he got there, he shoved the book towards eddie and slumped back in his chair.

steve anxiously watched eddie thumb through the various pages that were filled to the brim with his own face. his expression didn’t change, nor did his body language.

finally, eddie gently shut the sketchbook and looked up at steve. there was a certain twinkle in his eyes that had steve’s brain shutting down.

”those are all of me,” eddie whispered.

steve only nodded.

but eddie didn’t seem disgusted or revolted or angry. the same soft look on his face from earlier was even softer, his gaze never falling away from steve.

honestly, eddie seemed overjoyed that he had been drawn. he was now beaming at steve, who had begun drawing into himself. but the obvious flush crawling all over eddie’s face had steve sitting forward again.

”you’re, um . . . you’re really fun to draw,” steve said in reply, his voice just as quiet.

eddie lifted his head and leaned in to steve’s space, though he kept a fair distance between them. steve wished he could close that distance forever.

”yeah?“

that little smirk on eddie’s face had steve’s stomach doing flips.

steve felt himself burning up from the inside out. he knew his face was beet red and his heartbeat was thumping out of control.

steve gave eddie a little nod as he nibbled on his lip.

eddie immediately clocked the action, his eyes darting down to steve’s mouth for a brief moment before locking gazes once more. steve swore he could see flashes of something oddly familiar reflecting in eddie’s irises.

“do you wanna hang out after school?” eddie asked him, his face still fairly close to steve’s.

”yes,” steve said without hesitation.

this earned another wide, nothing but teeth smile from eddie. his smile made steve see stars.

”awesome. you wanna come over to mine? my uncle will be at work.”

and that’s how steve found himself driving behind eddie’s van after school, after explaining to robin what was happening. he had obviously been talking way too fast for robin to understand, but she had definitely seen eddie obviously looking at them from where he was parked a few car spaces down. she had then went in search of nancy.

when they arrived at eddie’s trailer, steve suddenly became nervous. he was scared and anxious and so fucking hot. jesus christ, it wasn’t even november yet, why was he so hot?

then he was walking behind eddie into the trailer, and he was reminded of why he was boiling alive.

eddie didn’t hesitate to lead him down the hall to his bedroom. steve was overwhelmed with the sight of band posters, piles of clothes, stacks and stacks of books, various dungeons and dragons memorabilia, and two different guitars. but he would be lying if he said it didn’t feel like a home.

steve was dragged out of his head by eddie. steve had been looking around the other boy’s room completely in awe, blind to the fact that eddie had been watching him with fondness. but steve finally stepped fully into the room, moving his eyes to his shoes.

”hey.”

and then there was eddie, standing right in front of steve. his presence was so overwhelming but in the best way possible. he smelt like cigarettes and cheap cologne, with an undertone that was so undoubtedly eddie, it made steve’s head spin.

”there you are,” eddie said once steve looked up at him. eddie smiled at him. “where’d you go?”

steve swallowed nervously.

”i just really like your room.”

eddie’s smile softened. “thanks, stevie,” he told him. he then slipped his hand into steve’s. “come here.”

eddie guided steve over to his bed. he had steve lie down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. eddie joined him and then pointed upwards.

”i’ve got some glow-in-the-dark stars and shit up there,” he explained in a reverent tone. “my uncle got them for me a couple months ago. i’ve been wanting to show you since.”

this made steve stop. eddie had something he’s been wanting to show steve for months? that could not be true. never in a million years could that be true.

but eddie sounded sincere. steve felt deep in his gut that eddie was being honest, that he genuinely wanted to show him these glow-in-the-dark stars and planets that were a gift from his uncle.

steve turned his head to look at eddie. eddie was still staring up at the ceiling, but it just gave steve an opportunity to admire his immaculate side profile. he followed the slope of his nose with his eyes, the frizzy bangs against his forehead, the pink of his lips that steve had a sudden urge to kiss and touch.

eddie must have felt steve’s eyes on him as he shifted to look back at steve. steve was honestly and truly stunned by eddie’s beauty, and it made his chest physically ache.

before he realized, steve was reaching forward until his index finger collided with eddie’s chin. eddie froze at the contact, but didn’t do anything to stop steve.

so steve lightly grazed his fingers along eddie’s face, jaw, and neck. he greedily idled on his adam’s apple and the black smudges of eyeliner. he ran his thumb along eddie’s dimple, followed by the tracing of eddie’s lips.

eddie’s lips were soft and plush. they had been stripped of layers and layers of skin, but that didn’t bother steve by any means. he just kept touching eddie.

”i like you,” eddie said out of the blue, causing steve to stop his movements. “i really like you. i’ve been trying to come up with an excuse to sit with you in art for so fucking long. then when dustin mentioned those drawings, i knew i had to do that soon.”

steve smiled gently as he began moving his thumb once more.

”i really like you, too,” he replied. “and it scares me. but i’m okay with that. i’ve been wanting to get to know you since henderson started talking about you.”

eddie returned the smile as he leaned in further, invading more of steve’s space. but even with the heat between their bodies and the too intimate touching on steve’s part didn’t deter either of them.

”that right, sweetheart?”

steve was going to die from all of these nicknames, guaranteed. he nodded anyways, hoping that eddie would call him sweetheart til the end of time.

steve was now cradling eddie’s face. the barely-there stubble was oddly comforting under steve’s palm. eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of steve’s bright pink lips.

”you’re really pretty.”

from eddie’s reaction, steve knows he has never been called that. eddie locks eyes with him, his mouth hung slightly open, his skin an inferno beneath steve’s hand. eddie’s face is flushed and he is more than flustered.

then eddie has his mouth on steve’s, and steve can taste the cigarettes on his tongue and the chapped skin of his lips and the stubble rubbing against his chin. steve shifts his hand to the back of eddie’s neck, with his fingers curling through that wild hair. eddie has his arm securely wrapped around steve, his hand gripping at the material of his shirt.

now, if steve were being honest, drawing is definitely what keeps him sane. but after today it’s become a close second.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #stranger things #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫

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oh-hellomisssunshine · 9 months

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Hello blog, long time no see. I obviously haven't kept up with my goal of posting regularly or with writing. Oh well, there's always next year. I did want write an update on what's been going on with me since I last posted. Last week I finished my first semester of college, yay! It's very tempting to reveal where but I haven't lost all my marbles yet. College has been interesting so far to say the least. My roommate is awesome, I'm so glad I lucked out with her. I've made some new friends and lost one. Which is crazy to think about. Out of the friendships I thought would last through college she was one of them but people change and you move on. The good thing is that my other friend and I have grown closer, yes it's the one I'm in love with. Well, not in love with anymore, kind of, a little. I don't really know. It's complicated and so much has happened. The new friends we've made, I kind of have feelings for one of them. He's really cute and nice and it's helping me get over her. Nothing has happened, other than me getting drunk at a party and hanging all over him (not my finest moment). But he seemed into it so not a total loss. Semester one has brought a lot of firsts. I've been to parties, I've drank, smoked a cigarette (I was drunk so it doesn't count), gotten high. I promise I'm not a party animal. I'm here for a reason, and I am proud to say I finished this semester with a 3.42. It would've been a 4.00 if not for gen chem, that shit kicked my ass. I'll say, college has definitely been humbling. I had all A's in high school and didn't have to try that hard. College however is a different story. That will be my goal for next semester. I would've achieved it this semester, but like I said chemistry kicked my ass. Well I think that's enough yapping for now. See you in the new year and Merry Christmas!

#college #life update #yapping

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missywritesfor7 · 1 year

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🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

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|| Ch. 16: Holiday ||

Being home is refreshing after what turned out to be a bit of a whirlwind of a semester. My parents got me my favorite foods and spend time telling me how much they missed me. I show them some of the photos I’ve taken over the course of the semester, which are mostly of Jimin.

Of course, with Jimin being a bit of a celebrity in our town my parents recognize him in my photos immediately. They begin telling me about how devastated everyone was when they found out about Jimin’s injury.

My mom happens to be friends with Jimin’s mom and mentioned how rough things have been for them. I hate to listen to ‘gossip’ from my mom, but she’s always got the inside scoop on everything that goes on around here. She’s never been wrong as long as I’ve been alive.

Most of what she says I already knew from what Jimin had told me. He wanted to give his extra money from the benefit concert to them to help out. His mom refused, but it seems she also refused help from other people in town who offered to help them financially. It took a community led secret fundraiser and an anonymous envelope of money left at their door to give them the help they need. Knowing how we had to keep the benefit concert for Jimin a secret I can see that this type of thing runs in the family.

Though things aren’t perfect for them, thanks to the community they’re at least a lot better than they could be. I’m starting to think that maybe Jimin’s mom wouldn’t accept the extra money from him because they really are doing ok. I’m sure his mom didn’t tell him about the money they received and that’s why he thinks things aren’t great at home.

“So…” I start knowing I may be about to change the mood in the room, but I have to ask. “Will Ryan be coming for Christmas?”

My parents look at each other uncomfortably and sigh.

“We haven’t heard from him in a while,” my dad says. “We assume he may spend the holiday elsewhere. Who knows.”

Ryan is my brother who’s 5 years older than me and a habitual flake, amongst other things. I rarely speak to him because anytime I do it turns into an argument which results in him once again accusing me of being the favored child. Drama follows him like a shadow and he’s put my parents through a lot over the years. Seems he only calls when he needs something or when he’s once again in jail for some sort of theft, assault, or drunk driving. It would be a very merry Christmas for all of us if he doesn’t show up.

For dinner my mom offered to cook my favorite pasta along with her amazing homemade garlic bread for dinner. Her and my dad both have work in the morning so after dinner they head straight to bed. I planned to meet some of my high school friends for a few drinks so I promise my parents I won’t wake them when I get back home at whatever time it may be.

I meet my friends Dylan, Phoebe, and Cindy at a bar in town shortly after finishing dinner and getting washed up. It’s funny to go out and see a photo of Jimin hanging near the front door. Lots of places have pictures and news articles of him posted up with pride. No matter how humble and modest he is, there’s no denying that he’s the shining star around here.

My friends and I enjoy ourselves catching up and joking around as if not much has changed. The drinks are sitting well and we’re having a great time. I know I’m a lightweight but I’m not even thinking about that as I don’t want to kill the vibe I have going right now.

So much for that though. Turns out someone else wanted to kill the vibe instead.

“I can’t believe every place out here still has pictures of Jimin everywhere,” Cindy says taking a sip of her mojito. “I heard he got hurt, what good is he now?”

“What does that mean?” I ask trying my best to not let my emotions come flying out.

“I mean he can’t dance, he hasn’t done any competitions lately. I know they probably just want the publicity, but there is none if he’s not doing anything.”

“It’s not like he had a career ending injury. Once he’s fully recovered he’ll be dancing again just as before.”

“Mina’s right,” Dylan chimes in. “Injuries happen but it’s not the end of the world. Plus he’s a nice guy, why are you talking about him like that all of the sudden?”

“I’m just saying,” Cindy continues. “I heard he’s back in town and there was a party thrown for him. Did you know the party was invite only? That’s such bullshit!”

I knew that he received a very warm welcome when I dropped him off at home. We hadn’t texted much today which isn’t a big deal since we both were catching up with our families. He did let me know they threw him a party and he was really embarrassed by it, but he was having a good time regardless. The invite only part is news to me, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. It’s no different than it was in high school. There’d be a celebration after another one of his competition wins but primarily for close friends and family of his. This is nothing new, however, Cindy seems to be particularly bothered by it for some reason.

“Are you jealous that you weren’t invited?” Phoebe laughs.

“So what if I am?” Cindy admits taking another sip. “You would think I’d be able to see him easily now when he’s not some big shot anymore. He should be lucky I even want to talk to him when he’s not even worth anything.”

“And why do you want to talk to him so bad?” I ask still trying to use my last sliver of sobriety to keep from throwing my drink at her rude ass.

“I wanted to talk to him after the whole Nikki thing back in school. I can’t believe he was so obsessed with her, he could do so much better with the type of money he was winning at those competitions.”

“You think you’re better?” Dylan asks starting to catch on to her negative vibes. “You just want to talk to him to try getting money out of him, how would you be any better than Nikki?”

“Yeah,” Phoebe says rolling her eyes. “You’re literally admitting to just being a gold digger and you’re wondering why you couldn’t see him?”

“I’m not a gold digger now.” Cindy laughs clearly unaware of how the rest of us are not amused at all. “Like I said, he’s not dancing so he’s nothing now. If I can get to him now when it should be easy then I’ll be set when he gets better and starts winning competitions again. I’ll make it worth his while though.”

“So you’re either a gold digger or a prostitute.” Phoebe says eliciting laughter from Dylan and I.

“You can call me whatever,” Cindy says rolling her eyes. “Just wait and we’ll see who’s laughing.” She finishes off her glass then looks at me like she just got hit with an idea. “Mina you and him go to the same school don’t you? Maybe you could t-“

“No,” I interrupt not wanting to hear anything else she has to say.

“Seriously?” She says in near disbelief. The others are laughing but I’m looking at her stone faced and ready to fight. “What are you his security or some shit now?”

“No. I’m his girlfriend.”

Everyone stares at me wide eyed taking a moment to register what I just said.

“You?” Cindy asks.

“No way!” Dylan exclaims. “That’s so awesome! I’m happy for you!”

“Me too!” Phoebe says raising her glass. “Cheers to you and Jimin!”

The three of us toast and take a sip but Cindy is still glaring.

“How is he dating you?” Cindy asks with a scowl.

“Is that a problem?” I ask furrowing my brow.

“I’m just wondering. He never dated anyone before, I’m just trying to figure out why he chose you of all people.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“He’s probably dating her because she’s not a gold digger or a prostitute,” Dylan retorts. “Don’t be mad because it’s not you.”

“I guess he just likes loose girls that come free of charge then?” She huffs.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” I say with no sobriety left in me to maintain civility.

“I’m just saying. Don’t act like we all don’t know about how much you and Sid were fucking each other. I never understood why, but I guess if you’re easy you can get anyone.”

“What is your problem?” Phoebe asks. “You know that was all a lie, why the fuck are you attacking Mina just because you’re jealous that she’s dating Jimin? Maybe you could try being happy for someone for once instead of being a bitter bitch with no man and no money.”

“I’m not bitter,” Cindy doubles down. “Just confused.”

“You know what,” I say grabbing my purse. “I didn’t come here to be insulted by someone who can’t do anything unless kneepads are required. I’m going home.” I stand up from the table and storm out leaving Cindy’s jaw on the floor.

I start heading towards my car in the parking lot when I realize I’m actually in no condition to drive myself home right now. I’m drunk and pissed off to the point where walking is hard enough. I lean against my car wondering what I should do at nearly midnight. I can’t call my parents, they’re already in bed and I don’t want to disturb them when I know they have to get up in the morning.

[Me]: Are you still awake?

[Me]: I’m sorry if you aren’t I’m just drunk and pissedddd offfffff and need to talk to someone until I can get drive to go home

[Jimin]: Yeah I’m still awake. Why are you drunk and pissed off? What happened? Where are you??

[Me]: I went for drinks with Dylan phoebe and Cindy

[Me]: Cindy is a fuCKing bitch! i want to rip her BITCHhead off

[Me]: I��m going to walk around to try cooling off or something idkkkkk

I step away from my car and begin walking down the sidewalk to an undetermined location. I can’t stay in the parking lot of the bar because if I see Cindy come out I might strangle her. And I’m definitely not about to drive in this condition. My brother has done more than enough drunk driving in his lifetime for the both of us, I’m not interested in starting a criminal record.

I get about a block away when I remember the park nearby that I used to hangout at when I was younger. I figure I can sit out there in peace and sober up a bit. I wish I had gotten a drink of water first.

I reach the park and let out a sigh of relief to see that no one is there. Teenagers are always here at crazy hours smoking, drinking, and fucking. I’m not in the mood to encounter any of that right now.

I take a seat on one of the swings and sloppily swing my legs around until I get a call from Jimin.

“Hey,” I say answering the phone.

“Mina, where are you?” He says sounding out of breath.

“I went down the street to the park to try to get sober. I didn’t drive don’t worry.”

“That’s good to know, you sound like you’ve had more to drink than you should have.”

“If I didn’t keep drinking I would be in jail for murder,” I chuckle. “You don’t want to date a murderer, do you?”

“Mina,” he giggles. The call disconnects and I hear his voice coming from behind me. “Why would you be a murderer?”

I turn around and like some majestic angel savior he’s coming towards me. He hands me a bottle of water and lightly kisses the top of my head.

“How did you know I was thirsty?” I ask tearing the bottle open and taking a large gulp.

“I know how you are when you drink,” he laughs. “Now what’s this about Cindy and you becoming a murderer?”

“She was talking shit about you.” I take another sip and sigh. “Then I told her we were together and she started talking shit about me too. TO MY FACE!”

“It’s ok,” he says wrapping his arms around me from behind and giving the top of my head another kiss. “Why was she talking shit about us?”

“For some reason she thinks you can do better than me, and she thinks that better is her even though she’s a fucking WHORE!”

“Calm down,” he giggles holding me tighter. “What does she know? You can’t let her get to you.”

“I know. She was just being really bitchy about it and I couldn’t sit there and listen to her talk about you like that.”

“I appreciate you defending my honor,” he chuckles.

“Is this how it’s always going to be?”

“What?” He asks looking down at me.

“I’m going to have to keep dealing with jealous bitches when they find out I’m dating you?”

“No,” he laughs. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about jealous bitches.”

“But Cindy is a jealous bitch. I should have known dating a celebrity would have it’s dark side.”

“So do you want to stop dating me?”

“No, I can cut a bitch if I need to.”

“Please don’t do that,” he laughs. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” I pout. “I want to stay with you longer.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me.” He begins lightly pushing me on the swing. “It’s a bit cold out here though, do you want to sit in the car and warm up? I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Ok.” He stops the swing and I stand up realizing my legs are a little more wobbly than I remember them being. “But first I want you to do something.”

“What’s that?” He asks holding me by my waist to keep me from stumbling.

“Go down the slide with me.” I look at him with a big childish smile pointing to the slide on the other side of the park.

“What?” He giggles. “Can you even make it to the slide?”

“Well I thought my strong celebrity boyfriend would help me get there. But if not I’ll go myself.”

“Your boyfriend is a celebrity?”

“Well no one threw me a welcome home party,” I tease.

“Jealous?” He laughs.

“You know what I’ll go down the slide by myself.” I start walking towards the slide on wobbly legs as Jimin follows behind me giggling.

We reach the slide and he helps me climb up to the top. He sits down and pulls me into his lap holding me tight around my waist. The air is chilly but his breath on the nape of my neck is enough to warm my entire body.

“We’ll go down once and then I’ll take you home, ok?” He whispers in my ear.

“Deal.” I lean back into his chest to savor his feeling a bit more before he slides us down and takes me home.

However, he doesn’t slide us down right away. He doesn’t move at all. He only holds me tighter as we continue sitting at the top of the slide staring at the moon and stars in the midnight sky.

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ralexsol · 3 months

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im so serious rn being 18 sucks fucking ass. either im too young or too old. apparently everyone who is my age has evaporated into the fucking sun. getting turned down by that classmate this past semester because i wasn't old enough (AT 18???) + my entire new irl "friend" group being at least 2 years younger than me is like wow i cant say anything. like im not gonna shoulder my problems onto a 16-year-old who's going through Worse?? so im just sitting here with literally not a single Actual Friend who i can talk to consistently because the person i thought i was starting to achieve that with is avoiding me rn because of issues (which i dont blame them for we have a rocky history and they need space to figure shit out w/o getting me mixed up in it but STILL). like. HELLO??? HI???? IS THERE ANY OTHER 18YEAROLDS FRESH OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL LOOKING TO BE BESTIES??? i need someone to discord call consistently with. play games n watch movies. text random ass things to and actually get a fucking response. yknow i would like some love n care!! instead of being used!! im so serious i am sick!! and tired!! of being used to just pour out my soul for other people and getting absolutely nothing in return. of people just dropping me for no reason. I AM SUCH A GOOD PERSON. LIKE IK THAT'S REALLL HUMBLE OF ME TO SAY BUT LIKE. I KNOW IM A GREAT PERSON. i listen and im so accommodating and i always do the most to make my friends comfortable and safe. and sure maybe im a bit of a pushover sometimes but maybe that's because if i wasn't id just be dropped quicker??? so why does nobody try back????? i just. im just so done with being alone. ive been alone for years n years n years (homeschool life amiright?) and i swear if someone doesnt decide to love me back soon i am going to explode. i have so much love for people and none of them will take it even though i try SO HARD!!!! SO FUCKING HARD. i know im soooo young i know i am. but dear lord this isnt even about finding a life partner i just need a best friend. i need someone to think of ME as THEIR best friend. it's in all the books and all the movies. even the "losers" without a partner have their great best friend who's always there for them. i dont even have that. am i really that dislikeable??????? i need something to go right for once. just one fucking thing. it's not too much to ask i dont think

#whatsupray?#sorry i needed to get that out of my system

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lunarmochi · 2 years

Note

Hello, Luna.

I hope you're doing well. How's life treating you? Anything new to share?

I agree with your bio. Not everything stays forever. There are things that do stick with you for all eternity, and it's the experience, good or bad. That's including trauma.

But what you do with that experience, and how you view it..how you act upon it is what changes things for the better. You can prolong things, even if they're temporary. Especially the ones that make you happy.

Stay well, keep smiling, and whenever you're down, remember that there are people around that truly support and cherish you. Even if you aren't aware of it.

Yours truly,

Locks.

hello locks!

to be honest, lately, life has been a series of ups and downs. i've been through a lot in the past year, so forgive me if this message gets a bit long as i talk about it all.

i think i can confidently admit that i've achieved many things, even if i've been through a lot. one of the biggest milestones is my mental health. it went to deep shit for a while after going through a breakup, but then i decided that i would actively try to get better, and redirect my unhealthy behavior in hopes of improving it. i've always sorta known what i needed to do, but it wasn't until this year that it really hit me. i still have really rough patches, but i think i've gotten much better compared to where i was last year. baby steps. it's still progress.

but yeah, as i mentioned, i went through a pretty bad breakup. but after giving myself time to heal and going no-contact, i was able to make amends with them and have a genuinely open conversation. i'm proud to say that we're still very good friends, and they've been teaching me a lot about healing.

i also failed a class for the first time ^^;; so during my last two years of high school, i was simultaneously taking college classes, right? during my last semester of senior year, i made... a few mistakes and ended up a few percent away from passing one of my college classes. it really upset me, but i'm now retaking that class with a better mindset. but failing a class still humbled me and is a new experience i could say i've been through.

but on that note, i've started college! the workload is certainly easier. well, a little bit. i think it's been easier because of my improved mental health state. i've been taking my time and romanticizing little things like studying on campus and sitting outside in the sun, which is nice. i'm enjoying the long periods of free time i have, too, despite being busy a lot of the time. it's a bit stressful trying to find a job, but i'll get there. i'm trying to find a library job. i think the quiet environment would do me well, no?

another thing, i've gotten into vtubers lately! it's a bit embarrassing to admit out loud, because of how niche of an interest it is and how people might make fun of it, but it makes me happy to indulge in little anime people on my screen. a bit odd, but it's encouraged me to take care of my needs more. or rather, not feel pressured to be so present in group chats/servers. i'm kinder to myself in that i pull away when i need to, so i can focus on myself and my well-being.

i've... i've done a lot. there's so much to show, plus a lot i can't even remember.

but really? i think i've been really lonely, most of all. i've learned that healing is such a lonely process, on top of not having many friends at all goodness, i almost started tearing up there. i still find myself staring up at my ceiling, sometimes, yearning. wishing for what others so-casually have.

but in any case, thank you. genuinely, sincerely, i hope you're doing well too. i often forget that there are actually people that care about me, but little reminders like this mean the world to me.

and last of all, thank you for being my first anon with a title. it makes me happy knowing i have at least one, even if i'm a tiny account with no reach. i hope to see you in my asks soon <3

#locks🔒 anon #ask

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rrxnjun · 2 years

Text

just saying ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader genre: college au | comedy, fluff, angst wc: 11.6k (11.602) playlist: just saying - 5 seconds of summer ; 21 questions - waterparks ; maniac - conan gray ; perfume - lovejoy ; i want u bad - r5 ; gloom boys - waterparks warnings: swearing, a mention of cheating

you got a new boyfriend. in yangyang’s eyes, he’s a total loser, and all your friends tell you that he’s got no future. they all like him, though... and so in a desperate plan, jealousy takes over and liu yangyang executes his masterplan: he has to make you two break up. all because he could treat you better than him. just saying though...

i. you got a boyfriend and he's a total loser

Slurping on his banana flavored boba, while making a noise that has successfully annoyed everyone at the table– Renjun the most, it seems, by the way he glares and kicks the other boy under the table with much force– Yangyang looks around the sprously-crowded study room and clears his throat, as if his presence wasn’t well-known already.

“So,” he starts, making sure at least someone’s eyes are on him before he proceeds and asks the crucial question– the question that’s still keeping him at this place, the question that’s been burning at the tip of his tongue for the past 20-or-so minutes. “Is Y/N not coming?”

Your best friend looks up from her textbook, the same one she’s been aimlessly staring into for the past 20 minutes, rolling her eyes at him and heaving out a heavy sigh. Yangyang doesn’t know if the sigh is addressed to the stupidity of his question or not, but he’s willing to find out as he only jabs more and raises up his eyebrows in question, making Ryujin answer his question faster.

The answer is a simple ‘No’, followed by a tight-lipped smile sent his way as the girl looks back to her textbook again and furrows her brows with much despair. Yangyang doesn’t blame her, because from the look of it, it looks like Ryujin is trying to cramp some Physics into that bleached head of hers, and even though Yangyang is a linguistics major, he can only imagine how annoying and difficult all those numbers mixed with letters can be to memorize.

The reply he was given is not enough for him, though. Don’t get me wrong, it would be more than enough for anyone else– for anyone normal, it seems– but Yangyang doesn’t even want to attend the study group he’s sitting with right now. The truth is, he’s only going because you’re there. And if you’re not there, then the whole purpose of sitting in the small room at the very end of the college campus is a waste of time for him– a waste of time he’s not willing to spend when he has one more season of Tokyo Ghoul to rewatch now that he has Netflix. Yes, it’s the account he stole from Dejun. But still. A free Netflix account is a free Netflix account…

Liu Yangyang knows you as the resident smart girl. That’s not all, though– it’s simply the way he got to know you, and it’s hard to peel that sticker off now. You were the only person that replied to him in the class group chat when he asked if someone could tutor him on the last topic of his Math exam last year– he quickly dropped the class the next semester, but he really needed the extra credit back then. Since then, you two have been meeting every Wednesday in the same small room at the end of the plain-white corridor in the Biology building– the only one that’s free at this time. Yangyang quickly fell into liking you. It wasn’t hard at all, if you ask him; you’re lively and confident, you always have something to say, and most of all, you always laugh at his jokes. Yangyang just can’t not like someone that laughs at his jokes. It strokes his ego just right, since the amount of disses he gets for his jokes from his roommate Dejun is just the right amount to keep him humble.

Yangyang likes to think he lured you in with the weekly dose of strawberry chocolate he always brought you as a payment for your tutoring services; because as soon as he dropped the class and told you he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, you brought up the idea of him attending your small study group– which, essentially, is just your group of friends hanging out every Wednesday with textbooks in their hands, pretending to study for the exams together.

Yangyang doesn’t know your friends and he’s sure as hell that he won’t be able to learn anything if you’re sitting in the seat next to him, but it’s you who we’re talking about.

Of course he said yes.

And so when on one Wednesday, when he’s sitting with all your friends, that are somehow now his distant friends (he wouldn’t really call them his friends, still. He hasn’t embarrassed himself in front of them that many times just yet), and you’re not there to be his eye candy, he doesn’t see the purpose of it all anymore. He’s a curious guy by nature, though; and he’s always curious about you.

“Why?”

Now it’s Renjun’s time to sigh and roll his eyes. Yangyang is starting to think that it’s at him, but when Lia snickers from the other side of the table and mumbles something under her nose, he’s enlightened with an information that hits him right in the gut and makes him want to throw up and scream.

“She’s with her new boyfriend,” Ryujin replies, making all of them murmur in agreement– or is it disagreement? Yangyang isn’t quite sure anymore.

“...boyfriend?” Yangyang repeats, as if he wasn’t sure if he heard your friends right.

“Yeah,” Renjun nods, “he’s a total loser, though. I can’t believe she passed on her stupid study group on Wednesday just because he insisted on a date today.”

“Just for the record, I wouldn’t even be coming if I didn’t have a test tomorrow, that’s now disgusted with her actions I am,” Lia mutters, making Yangyang widen his eyes in surprise.

“Who even is he?” Yangyang asks.

“I dunno,” Ryujin shrugs, closing her textbook shut– a sign that she’s fully immersed in talking about your boyfriend behind his back now, “he dropped out, apparently? He’s got no future. I think she met him like three weeks ago and they’re already dating, can you believe that? I don’t like him at all. The last time I saw him, he didn’t even say hi back to me. Like I wasn’t even there!”

Yangyang gasps, shaking his head in disbelief. Why would you date anyone like that? Where did that guy even come from? As far as he knew, he was one of your closest friends– why wasn’t he notified about a new guy in your circle?

“That’s ridiculous, dude,” he mumbles, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Lia shrugs, “and to think that we all literally had a bet that she’s gonna date you in a few…”

“Huh?” Yangyang opens his eyes wide, gulping down his built-up saliva. Did he hear her right? Dating? You two?

“Yeah,” Ryujin shrugs, “you just randomly appeared! We totally thought she had a crush on you, and don’t get me wrong, we were all for it, but it seems like we… were wrong.”

Yangyang hums, nodding. He didn’t know that everyone thought this about you two… Well, he can’t say he doesn’t like it, no– he very much adores the fact that your friends thought you had a crush on him, but it stings even more now when he realizes that your friends liked him enough to accept him into their circle, while your new boyfriend hasn’t even tried.

He’ll ignore the bet part for now.

“Yeah, seems like it,” Yangyang agrees, “what’s that guy’s name anyway?”

“Hyunho, or something?” Renjun replies, a look of disgust written on his face, “we stalked his Insta for a bit. He’s got a profile full of cringey gym pics and pics from when he went fishing.”

“Fishing,” Yangyang repeats.

“Yeah man, we told you it’s bad.”

Shaking his head in disbelief and putting his head into his hands, Yangyang lets out one of many sighs shared around the table, biting his bottom lip. He’ll make sure to stalk that guy when he comes home– just to see if there’s anything your friends didn’t mention that is a walking red flag. Who knows, maybe… maybe he still has time to talk you out of it.

Maybe.

ii. he barely takes you out and if he does he's late

Trying to catch his breath as the crowd finally leaves the café he works at– the time period between 2 and 2:35pm is always the busiest– he hangs his head low and curses under his breath. Only god knows just how much Yangyang despises his job as a barista in the campus café; and that’s only because he won’t admit it to anyone that dares to laugh at him and make jokes about it. Yes, he comes to work every day with disgust coating his senses, but at least he gets paid. And he really needs that money.

A cheerful voice breaks him out of his slumber, a voice he would, on regular circumstances, want to strangle to death, making him look up again and switch the glare for a fake smile.

A fake smile that quickly shifts into an honest one, when he realizes who’s standing in front of him in their full glory.

“Can I get the usual?” you grin, making him shake his head in disbelief.

“Y/N, you don’t have an usual, this is like the second time you’ve been here,” he notes, battling the grin that’s wanting to settle onto his lips. It’s easy to smile for him when you’re around, but he caught his jaw being in pain the last time you two hung out, and he’s not willing to live through that experience again, since it sure was humbling.

“Well, I’m making my last order my usual, then. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?” you smile, making him mockingly roll his eyes at you.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Yangyang could lie and tell you that he doesn’t remember what you ordered the first time you were here– it was right after his exams and you were too impatient to wait for him to tell you if he passed them or not, since, and this is an indirect quotation, you have to be there for him just in case he failed and needs mental support. He passed his exams and your visit only added to his euphoria, as he chatted away with you until he had to close the café and walked you home. So, Yangyang could lie and tell you that he doesn’t vividly remember that day up to the smallest detail, but he’s not that much of a good liar, after all, so he won’t even try.

He remembers your order down to the chocolate shavings on top of the whipped cream that’s decorating your favorite iced caramel macchiato, and so he wastes no time in turning around and preparing your drink as you sit at the tall bar stool and wait for him to get it ready for you.

“You always work. I had to run over here just so I could hang out with you,” you mumble, a teasing pout sitting at your lips that Yangyang catches when he briefly turns around to peek at your face.

“Yeah, well, my rent is not gonna get paid by itself, so,” he shrugs, swirling the whipped cream on top of your drink, getting ready to sprinkle the chocolate shavings delicately to the peak of the white, cloudy mess. He briefly imagines putting a cherry on top, just because you distantly remind him of cherries, in a way, before he mentally cringes at his thoughts and shoos them out of his lovesick brain.

“I get that,” you note, “but do you even have time for yourself?”

“Of course I do,” Yangyang snickers, finished with your drink now, bringing it to you. He does have time for himself, of course– and so what if it’s in the deadly hours of night and on Wednesdays. If he’s lucky, he’s free on every other Friday too, depending on if Chaeryeong is free to cover his shift. And he’s free on weekends! That’s plenty of time.

“You’re always locked up here.”

Yangyang rolls his eyes at you. “It has its privileges.”

“Like what?”

“Like… if I wasn’t here as often, Johnny would kick my ass if he saw me chatting away with our customers,” he shrugs, seeing you snicker. That, and he also gets to study when the café isn’t as busy. They take turns with Hendery when he’s around, but he mostly just slacks off in the back, pretending to ‘stack up on coffee beans’.

“Okay, then,” you absently nod, taking a sip of your drink. A blissful expression overtakes your features, hinting that Yangyang did his job right and your caramel macchiato is surely one of the best things you’ve ever tasted. He wonders if it’s addicting enough to make you visit him at work more often– he wouldn’t be opposed to it even on the busiest days of them all.

“What brings you here?” he asks, leaning on the counter. His legs are starting to hurt from walking around so much– damn Mondays; they’re always the busiest.

“What, I can’t visit my friend at work?” you gasp, acting offended by his question.

“You can, you can,” he brings up his hands into the air in a defensive act, “you’ve just never done it before.”

Taking another sip of your drink, you look almost guilty as you nod and sigh. “That’s true,” you nod, “but… I’m kind of… waiting for someone?”

Already preparing for the impact of your answer, Yangyang curls his toes in anticipation. “For who?”

“Hyunho,” you smile, “my boyfriend. We’re going on a date, and I figured that we could stop by to get some coffee first, and since I know this café is famous for its good coffee,” you note as you point towards Yangyang, as if to praise the boy for doing his job right, “I invited him here.”

“Oh,” Yangyang nods, subconsciously pulling away from you, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

A knowing look is sent his way, making shivers run down his spine as you snicker. “You were with Ryujin and Renjun on Wednesday. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know.”

“Okay, so maybe I did know, but all I’m saying is that I didn’t know before. It’s… kind of sudden, you know,” he mumbles, trying to sound the least suspicious he can. It’s not every day that you talk to your crush about their new boyfriend; Yangyang never thought he’d live to the day when this happens (not that you’re not pretty or interesting enough to get a boyfriend. He just somehow always assumed that you’re gonna be single and free for him to simp over forever), but here we are.

“Yeah, well,” you mumble sheepishly, “it just kind of… happened.”

Yangyang hums in response, nodding. What else is there for him to say? He feels like all the vocabulary in his head– in all 5 languages he knows– escaped his brain and is standing somewhere in the corner of this café, laughing at him and pointing their fingers at just how embarrassing the whole situation is.

“How did you two even meet?” he asks, playing with the stack of plastic cups to his left, as if the action was meant to mask his over-interest in the topic that is your new boyfriend.

“At a party,” you say.

His eyes scan you up and down. By the way your eyes avert to the side when your eyes meet, you look a little ashamed of your answer. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing bad about going to parties, and Yangyang would never judge you for getting loose and letting your inner party animal shine, but you and parties just… don’t go together. And you know that, by the way you quickly jump into self-defense.

“You know Mark, right?” you start blabbering, not even sparing a second to let Yangyang absently nod in agreement, “well, it was his party. And Hendery was invited, and you know my friend Yuna is into him, right? And since she didn’t want to go alone– and I don’t blame her, parties are fucking scary for adolescent girls– I, as her good friend, offered that I’ll go with her! It was only a one-time occurrence. But as I was there, this guy talked to me in the kitchen as I was waiting for Yuna to come back from the toilet, which, just by the way, she didn’t– she met Hendery on the way back and they made out in one of the rooms on the second floor– and I was so bored and it was still too early for me to come home and I was supposed to drive Yuna home, so I flirted with him,, and… and… here we are,” you complete your little storytime with an overly-exaggerated hand movement.

Quickly taking your drink into your own hands, as if to occupy yourself as you wait for your friend’s answer, you peek at him from under your eyelashes and blink a few times in anticipation.

“Hendery made out with Yuna?” Yangyang repeats, mouth slightly agape in shock.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?”

“I- I mean that’s… that’s really great for you, yeah, but Hendery and Yuna? In what universe do these two belong together?”

Hendery and Yuna just… aren’t the best combination. It’s the one Yangyang wouldn’t even think of creating. It’s like chocolate and pickles. Where Yuna is the sweet chocolate and Hendery is the weird, crunchy pickle. And even though Yangyang has tried this combination before, he for sure didn’t like it– just another sign that these two do not belong together under any circumstances.

“This universe, apparently,” you shrug, sighing, “anyways, it all happened really quickly. I didn’t even have time to tell you that I was seeing someone, I’m sorry.”

Yangyang only hums. Well, what else is he going to do? Be mad at you? For… what, exactly? For not telling him about your new find? For not telling him about going to a party? That would be stupid. The only person he has every right to be mad at is himself, because even after hearing your story and seeing the stars in your eyes light up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, Yangyang just can’t seem to feel bitter in his chest and just a little bit envious of the position that Hyunho is in after 2 weeks, while Yangyang has been pining over you for at least the last 6 months. It’s not fair.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m happy for you.”

The smile that overtakes your features is one that would make even the shittiest of days feel like a fairytale. The slight tug of your lips upwards and the little scrunch you do with your nose is a sight Yangyang’s seen multiple times since getting to know you, but even after all this time, he feels like even a baseball bat could not hit him harder than this.

No, he can’t be bitter that you got a new boyfriend that’s not him. At least not in front of you.

“Thanks,” you grin, “you’re actually the first one to say that, so… it means a lot to me.”

He freezes. It hasn’t occurred to him before just how much the words of others could affect your relationship. In the bottom of his heart, he thought that just being in love with the person is enough to be happy– but it seems like the opinion of your friends and family matters too.

So Yangyang decides to support you, even if he might be the only one in your circle to do so.

“Where is he? He’s like 15 minutes late,” you mumble. Yangyang furrows his eyebrows at you, shrugging.

“There’s a lot of traffic around this time.”

You purse your lips, looking at the time on your phone screen– which, just by the way, is still decorated by a picture of your friend group all out on the fare, which makes Yangyang happy to see– and finish your drink. Yangyang assumed you were going to take it with you to your date, since you rarely drink more than one coffee a day.

“Do you want another one?” he asks, still.

“No, I’m just gonna wait for Hyunho to arrive,” you tightly smile.

Minutes slowly pass as Yangyang cleans the counter and throws out the plastic cup that was used to hold your drink, making coffee for the lonely couple that came a few minutes after you ordering two iced americanos. He doesn’t want to pay much attention to it, he really doesn’t, but the clock sitting right above his head as he scoops the ice into the two cups reminds him of time passing.

Three minutes, five… seven… fifteen.

Another fifteen minutes pass before the door opens with a subtle hum of a ring, revealing a man in a leather jacket passing through the entrance without a single word, nearing the tall barstool you’re sitting at. Yangyang can only assume it’s your boyfriend by the way he wraps a protective arm around your waist and greets you as silently as he can, as if he didn’t want to disturb the other customers.

“Where were you all this time?” you ask, and Yangyang can only faintly hear the subtle disappointment in your voice before you’re cut off by your boyfriend’s low voice.

“Traffic.”

“Okay,” Yangyang sees you sadly smile from the corner of his eye, a cheerful grin overtaking your features when your eyes meet, “do you want to order anything? This is my friend-”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, not even meeting eyes with who you meant to introduce to him, tugging you off the barstool instead.

Yangyang doesn’t have much time to say goodbye to you before you disappear behind the entrance, only earning himself a wave as you hop by your boyfriend’s side and attentively listen to what he has to say.

Yangyang thinks that it might be harder to pretend that he’s happy for you now. And it’s only getting started.

iii. all your friends tell you that he's got no future, but they like me

“Can you believe that? He literally dragged her out of the café! I legit wanted to run after him and throw an americano down his back,” he rambles, aggressively wiping the counter with a smelly cloth that should have been washed like a week ago, “and when I asked her the other day after class how the date went, she went oddly quiet. If that’s not suspicious, then I don’t know what is.”

Throwing the damp cloth down to the floor– to the right corner, far enough to not make anyone trip over it behind the counter– Yangyang looks up to find Dejun and Renjun, the two Juns of his nightmares, as he likes to call them, staring at him with blank eyes and disbelief written all over their faces.

Sure, no one liked your new boyfriend. No one’s gotten as violent with their thoughts about him just yet, and Yangyang fears that he might just have gone too far.

“Okay, well, I can see why you’re so furious about it, but… it’s her relationship,” Dejun shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee, “why do you care so much?”

“Because she’s my friend!” Yangyang gasps, mouth hanging slightly agape from shock.

“Yeah, and? We’re friends, but I wouldn’t give two fucks if your new girl was toxic or some shit. That’s all your decision, mate,” Dejun shrugs and fully enjoys the taste of the hot beverage on his tongue. Dejun is the only person Yangyang knows that likes their coffee hot, even if it feels like a sauna outside. He never really grasped why he’s like that, he figures Dejun might just be a psychopath of some sort; but seeing him now with his blank white cup steaming into his face, Yangyang feels the utter masculine urge of splashing the contents right into his face. Or his own. Either one works.

“Well, thanks for looking out for me, I guess,” Yangyang furrows his brows and rolls his eyes in irony, “Renjun, can I get any support in this topic? You care about Y/N just as much as I do.”

“Well, I don’t know about that-” Renjun mutters under his breath, making the younger boy (even though it’s only a few months; Renjun likes to mention their ‘age difference’ every time he wants to take the upper hand, though, so it’s now kind of fixated in Yangyang’s brain as well) scrunch up his face in question.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he peeps, “but yeah, that dude’s a lost case. I overheard Y/N telling Ryujin that he invited her to sleep over at his house on Friday,” Renjun mutters, making Yangyang fume even harder with built-up frustration.

“Who does that after a month of dating!”

The brutal gaze he is sent by Renjun is one that could make anyone’s back shiver with terror. The little one can get scary sometimes, it seems. “Oh, so you’re conservative,” he sings, voice almost imitating Kris Jenner in a conversation with her dearest daughter Khloé about the wearingness of thongs in public.

“Excuse you, I’m not,” Yangyang defends himself, putting his hands to his hips in a stance quite similar to his mother’s back when she used to nag him for not washing his dishes after eating when he was younger.

Dejun’s eyes drift slowly from one person to the other, enjoying his friends’ heated debate over a man he’s never once seen in his whole entire life, feeling very much like in an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians.

“Well, I think it’s reasonable. They’re dating,” Dejun mumbles, testing the waters with his remark.

Like a sleeping volcano, Yangyang suddenly erupts, arms waving in the air and all, looking almost comical with his animated screeches. “That means they’re gonna fuck! And what if the condom breaks? Oh no. Worse. What if they don’t wear it at all and he doesn’t pull out fast enough and then she has to carry his babies?!”

The shriek of horror is followed by a fit of laughter coming from the other side of the communication canal; the only one not finding the whole situation funny is Yangyang, though, heavily thinking of how even your pretty genes won’t outlaw the weird asymmetry in your boyfriend’s face. He quickly catches himself and rolls his eyes on his own snarky comment, forcing it out of his own head– he has no right to judge a man that’s, admittedly, a few heads taller than him and broader in the shoulders.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“Well, you have to be prepared for every possible outcome!” Yangyang mumbles, noticing new customers arriving through the glass door of the café.

One last glare is sent to his friends’ direction as he spills out his last comment, the discomfort he feels with the whole situation very much apparent on his face. “You’ll stop laughing when the day comes and I’ll be the only one that can say ‘told you so’, you fuckers.”

The smile he offers the customers standing behind the counter is so different to the expression he had before, one would think there was a shift in reality.

Thank god Yangyang is a good actor.

iv. got a big house, he says he lives alone

Liu Yangyang is not a stalker. He’s not stalking your boyfriend. That’s not at all what’s happening when he sees him at the grocery store one day and eyes him the whole journey to his car, silently following him with the bag of groceries buckled in to his passenger seat, driving down the block and praying to god that your boyfriend doesn’t see him in the rear window, or worse– notice that it’s him that’s, coincidentally, following his every turn.

That’s not stalking… right?

He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to prove here– surely, he can’t know much about your boyfriend just by simply staring at him from his car window. He can’t tell what he’s listening to on the radio– although, he can tell it’s not Nicki Minaj, for he’s not vibing as hard as Yangyang is when he almost forgets to take a turn left when your boyfriend’s car disappears out of his view for a split second. He can’t tell if your boyfriend is worth trusting behind the wheel either; Yangyang isn’t even worth trusting behind the wheel anyway. He’s got his driver’s license recently and already forgot what some of the road signs mean. He’s no judge in that.

Yangyang doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove– to anyone, but mostly to himself– when he follows your boyfriend home one day, but you could say there’s something in the universe that desperately wants him to win, in some way. A silent hint of intuition running through his bones, a spark of hope that lights him up as he feels tingling in the tips of his fingers, anticipation finally reaching the top as he sees your boyfriend park in the driveway, slowing down and waiting at the end of the street.

He goes unnoticed. Your new boyfriend must be blind, Yangyang wonders, silently chuckling to himself as he silently spectates and watches the scene in front of him unravel.

Hyunho walks out of the car– seemingly, an innocent act. The man himself walks over to the trunk, taking out the bag of groceries he’s bought at the store not too long ago, smashing the car door shut with such force that it makes Yangyang wince in terror. He surely hopes he’s not this harsh when he operates with your body, though, he doesn’t like to think about his touch on you, so he bats that thought away with a blink of his eyelashes and focuses on his investigation.

Angels, spirit guides, god… someone must be on his side today. He’s not crazy. He doesn’t usually follow people home. He’s not saying that it’s not fun, of course– it’s just something he’s never picked up before, preferring to focus his time on other, much more interesting hobbies. There must be a reason why he’s here– and the reason is unleashing right in front of his eyes.

The eureka moment suddenly hits him with much force, his lips parting, as if to scream a winning “Ha!” at the top of his lungs.

He is a good listener. Well, most times, that is– when it’s you he’s listening to, though, he’s quite sure his memory is writing down each and every single word that comes out of your mouth, paying attention to detail and punctuation. He’s your number one fan, after all.

And with that in mind, he remembers you telling him trivial facts about your boyfriend.

That he’s strong (Yangyang’s definitely stronger), that he doesn’t like his coffee hot (one of the only normal things about him, it seems), that he’s super sweet, honest and loyal. You’ve also told him that he lives alone– in a small house with a brown roof, identical to the one he’s standing in front of right now, with the bag of groceries in his hold.

Here he goes– the thing he’s been sent here for, the fact that he was supposed to acquire in this quest.

Out of the house, a middle-aged woman strides her way forward, hair an identical shade of brown to Hyunho, who is only pointing an annoyed look at her through his dark eyes, the shape similar to the woman’s. She takes the groceries inside as your boyfriend locks the car, both of them disappearing in the comfy-looking house.

The ending seems anti-climactic, sure. Yangyang’s learned something about your boyfriend right now, though– something he’s sure he can use against him, if he really wanted to.

“Hyunho lives alone, in like, a super pretty house just a few blocks away. Can you believe that?” your voice rings in his head, making him dryly chuckle and shake his head in disbelief.

That’s not true– his mum was home– and your boyfriend is a cheeky, little liar.

v. you should leave him, 'cause it really makes me sick

In another one of many meetings with his only friends– Renjun and Dejun– Yangyang complains. It’s the thing he likes the most, and it’s also the thing he’s the best at, so no one can really blame him for taking the time off his day to add every single, most unnecessary comment to each thing that’s just slightly annoyed him for the last week. It’s his second nature. A human instinct, even.

Most of the topics he brings up when he complains, though, include your boyfriend, in some way. It’s been a few months since you two started dating, and everyone’s gotten used to it by now, it seems, but Liu Yangyang is a one pretentious fucker– he can’t let things go as easily.

Not when you’re still, pretty much the only topic of his interest.

He should really get some new hobbies.

“And so- And so I drove past his house, and his mum was home! He’s a total liar. Can’t believe how Y/N can stand him-”

“You stalked Hyunho?” Renjun cuts him off, pointing a concerned look towards his friend, eyebrows all furrowed and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He surely knows how to make someone feel bad about their actions– Yangyang should learn how to make that look the next time Renjun’s over, to be honest.

“I didn’t stalk him, come on. I just happened to see where he was going, and I just so happened to follow him and see his mum walk out of the house where he supposedly lives alone!” Yangyang rages, throwing his hands up into the air.

“She could have been there for a visit, for all we know…” Dejun mutters, opening a can of coke and sitting with them at the kitchen table. He chooses to sit opposite Renjun, because with how furiously Yangyang operates with the chopsticks in between his fingers, there’s a high chance that the take-out might end up in Dejun’s hair. And he really doesn’t want that. He washed it yesterday.

“Nah, bro, I’m telling you. He’s a bastard.”

With a roll of his eyes, Renjun sighs. “Just because he lives with his mum? It’s okay to live with your mum.”

“Do you live with your mum?” Yangyang argues, raising up his eyebrows.

“I don’t, but I’m just saying that if I did, it wouldn’t be such a problem-”

“It’s not just that, though! There’s so much that goes beyond the surface. One, he lies about who he lives with. Two, he always makes Y/N wait. Trust me, she’s been to the café at least 3 times now, waiting for him, and every single time, he arrived at least 30 minutes late. Three, he always makes her pay at the restaurant-”

“How would you know?”

“Ryujin told me. Y/N told her after she promised not to tell anyone, but I got it out of her,” Yangyang quickly answers, seeing Dejun widen his eyes in surprise and disbelief.

“So much for girl code…”

“Four! He hasn’t hung out with us once in these months they’ve been together. Five. I don’t like his eyebrows. He looks like a prick-”

“That’s not a valid reason,” Renjun sighs, making Yangyang roll his eyes.

“Okay, sure,” he admits, chewing on the last bite of the take-out he brought home after ending his shift at the café, swallowing before he starts talking again, desperate to prove his point, “all I’m saying is that Y/N doesn’t seem happy with him. Think about it! When was the last time she’s hung out with us? When was the last time she laughed so hard she cried? Huh? The last time I checked, it’s been a few months, and before that, it was an everyday occurance,” Yangyang shrugs, proving that he’s right– he always is.

“And neither of you like him anyway, so I don’t get why I’m the only one getting crucified for voicing my opinion!”

“Well, just speaking about it with us won’t do anything. What do you even want from this? You want them to break up?” Renjun barks, pointing his chopsticks towards Yangyang, an annoyed expression sitting at the top of his face.

“I mean…” Yangyang mumbles, averting his gaze from them.

He won’t admit to it. No, never in a million years– it’s enough that his friends still haven’t noticed the clear obsession in his eyes whenever he speaks about you. He truly cares about you, he does! And he means everything he’s saying about your new boyfriend. It’s not just jealousy shining through; even though he feels his blood boiling every time he sees you two together and his heart breaks a little every time you smile at him with just the right amount of lovesickness.

He can’t admit that he’d be much happier if you were single again– because that would mean that he could at least have a little bit of faith in himself, the smallest hint of hope that maybe, maybe if he tried hard enough, maybe if you suddenly woke up one day and magically liked him back, you could be his.

This way, though, he knows he’s hopeless.

And he feels like a played-out love song every time he sees you with Hyunho (where you laugh at his unfunny jokes and he doesn’t meet your eye contact), but Yangyang knows that he could treat you so much better than your current boyfriend ever has.

“You know, if you really want them to break up, maybe you should do something about it,” Dejun shrugs, meeting Yangyang’s eye.

Something clicks inside of his brain, gears finally finding their right place in his pea-sized brain; magically looking like a squirrel high on caffeine when he chuckles under his breath, Liu Yangyang has a masterplan he needs to execute.

Only if he knew that his actions have consequences– much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

That’s a problem for another evening, though.

vi. you don't need him, I'll help you get over it

Yangyang despises hipster cafés. Not only are they much different to the cafés he is used to– the one he works at, in particular– but the amount of plants surrounding him while indie music plays in the background surely can’t be enough to match the prices in the cheaply-made menu sitting at the top of the table.

There’s no rush. No screaming of the orders. No weird smell coming from the back. This is not the campus café he is employed at, and even though he should be glad he is enjoying coffee somewhere else just because he simply can, there’s something inside of him yearning for the comfort of something he knows so dearly.

You’re sitting in front of him, a sad face painted on your features. Of course you’re here– he wouldn’t be coming into a stupid hipster café if it wasn’t for you inviting him. The plants hanging above your head decorate your aura perfectly, though, and Yangyang simply can’t imagine spending his time with you in the half-empty, half-assed café at the very edge of your college campus anymore. This is where you belong, truly.

“What’s with the frown?” he asks almost a little too hesitantly, kicking you lightly in the shin under the table. You look up through your eyelashes, pointing your gaze towards him, a sad smile finding its way onto your face. Yangyang desperately wants to kick it away from its place– in his head, you’re only supposed to be smiling. There’s no place for a frown.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” you chuckle, though the sound doesn’t seem as light-hearted as you meant it out to be.

If there’s one thing about Yangyang, it’s that he’s annoying. Not in the bad way– he’s just that type of friend that constantly calls you when he wants to hang out, or endearingly keeps poking your sides when he wants your attention in a crowded place. He’s the one that keeps teasing you even though you’ve had enough. That can get a little overwhelming at times, sure, but in times like these, Yangyang chooses to put his annoyingness for a good cause.

He keeps lightly kicking you under the table, a childish pout sitting at his lips. “Tell me.”

“I’m alright,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. Come on! We’re practically best friends at this point, and we all need someone to listen to us at times. Spill it out,” he keeps nagging, adding a victorious poke to your hand sitting at the top of the table as well, as a bonus.

Your eyes point towards one of the many plants in the café, the nervousness making you slowly crack the knuckles of your hands. “Fine,” you sigh, looking him dead in the eye, “but promise me you won’t tell anyone else, because god knows what they would tell me if they knew. I trust you with this, so don’t be a dick about it, okay?”

A quick nod of his head and a fast nestle in his seat after, you’re taking a deep breath in and biting on the inside of your cheek as you open your mouth to speak.

“So… There’s something worrying me… about Hyunho.”

Yangyang almost hears a siren ring inside of his ears, red flashing in front of his eyes as he nods, trying to gain his composure. Of course the problem is your boyfriend. If there wasn’t a problem with your boyfriend, Yangyang wouldn’t be here right now, sitting with you in a café. That’s the thing– you’re slowly starting to lose time for anyone else. Not that Yangyang’s salty about it…

“What is it?”

“We were supposed to hang out yesterday,” you peep, averting your gaze from him, “and sometimes he comes late, that’s fine… I’ve gotten used to it by now, but… yesterday, he didn’t come at all. I tried texting him, ringing him, I tried everything, but he’s just ignoring me,” you ramble, a worried undertone coating your words as you chew on your bottom lip and look for comfort in Yangyang’s eyes, “and I know he’s fine because he sent out a stupid Snapchat streak this morning.”

Yangyang finds it hard to look for words that would comfort you right now.

Sure, he hates that guy with everything he has in him, he hates his new haircut and he hates his voice when he hears him call you baby, but even with coming late, dropping out of college, lying about living alone and being ignorant to your friends, Yangyang never thought it would go this far.

All this time, he just thought he was blowing it out of proportion because of his teenage jealousy.

But now, when you’re clearly distressed because of his actions, he feels like the stupid plan he had in his mind back when he hung out with Renjun and Dejun isn’t as crazy anymore. If it’s gonna help you in the long run, he’s gonna do it– and not think about the consequences.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip, “I- I don’t really know what to say…”

“It’s fine,” you nod, “maybe I’m just too dramatic-”

“Oh don’t you dare say that,” Yangyang cuts you off. There’s no way he would let you think that your emotions aren’t valid. “Actually, there’s- there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Panic flashes in front of your eyes. He would even say it’s okay for you to panic– with what he has to say next, he can only prepare for the worst outcome. You’re already becoming him to talk with a hesitant nod of your head, and he can’t back out now, can he?

“I… He’s cheating on you, Y/N.”

The world falls silent after his words. Your lips part in shock, your eyes get glossy. Yangyang can’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. Did he really get this desperate? Is he really such a dick?

Surely, he can’t be worse than the guy that left you hanging for a whole day… right?

“Are you- are you joking? Is this serious? Don’t prank me right now, Yangyang,” you mourn out, your bottom lip trembling.

What else is there to say? With just an ever-so-honest nod of his head, Yangyang confirms the lie he made up in his sick, twisted mind– all because he can’t stand to look at you with someone else that isn’t him.

What’s even worse is that even though you’re in pain, he secretly enjoys the way you curl into his chest when you cross the distance between the two of you and sit next to him in the booth, quietly sobbing into his shirt.

He really fucked up, didn’t he?

vii. he says he loves you, but it's all an act

“You did what?” Dejun stares at him in disbelief, mouth apart in shock.

The thing is, Yangyang can’t deal with his emotions alone. Also, when he does something bad, like, really really bad, there’s no way he can deal with the despair that comes with the unbelievably heavy weight of guilt alone. Liu Yangyang also loves to overshare and complain. He won’t miss his once-in-a-lifetime chance now.

His first victim? His own roommate– Xiao Dejun. He could go to Renjun, but he figures that might be too dangerous. Dejun doesn’t know you too well, so he’s not that interested in the whole case, and Yangyang’s quite sure that the fierce short boy would ignite like a match if he told him what he did, and even though he’s tiny, he can do a lot of damage. Yangyang can’t afford to get a black eye from Renjun. God knows, he might get it from Hyunho instead.

“Yeah, well-”

“Are you out of your mind? Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?” Dejun bursts out, even forgetting to pause the TV show he’d been watching when Yangyang came into his room.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea, per se, I just thought… I-” he mumbles, shooting his arms into the air in defeat, “I was just trying to do the good thing!”

Dejun looks at him with stone cold eyes. The laughing track coming out of the laptop’s speakers does nothing to lighten up the situation; Yangyang feels chills run down his spine as the reality of everything slowly sinks and his hands turn ice cold with misery.

“No, Yangyang,” Dejun shakes his head.

Raising up his eyebrows, Yangyang blinks at his roommate. “...what, no?”

“You weren’t trying to do the good thing here, you were just doing it for yourself,” Dejun mutters, sighing. There’s disappointment coating his words and Yangyang can’t believe how scolded and defeated he feels under the weight of his roommate’s words. He doesn’t take them seriously most of the time, so this argument only proves that he should really reflect on his actions.

“How could I be doing it for myself? It’s not my relationship we’re talking about,” Yangyang rambles, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Yeah, and that’s the thing. It’s not your relationship, so why are you acting like it is? It’s not your place to lie about someone, however shitty they might be as a person, just to get them to break up! Again, you didn’t do this for her, you did this for yourself!” Dejun says, finally closing the laptop shut so the background noises don’t disturb the seriousness of the conversation.

Yangyang feels as if he is being scolded by his teacher for cheating on his exam. It feels even worse, to be exact– and he didn’t think there could be a bigger humiliation than that.

“What do I gain from this, then? If I’m doing it for myself, as you keep repeating,” Yangyang rolls his eyes in irony, chuckling at the whole situation. If it’s getting to him, he won’t let it show to Dejun. For all he knows, he didn’t care until now, so what’s changed?

Shaking his head, the older boy rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to see them together anymore, and that’s enough for you. At least your little, jealous heart will be happy now.”

“I’m not-”

“Yangyang,” Dejun cuts him off, like many times before, “do you really think nobody noticed by now?”

viii. 'cause I'm better than him, just saying

Sitting around in the park, his friends chatter away as he’s lost in thought and picks at the skin of his cuticles. Ryujin and Lia try to get his attention by talking about the new anime they’ve been watching, but there’s no use as his unfocused eyes only go through them and the smile he offers them is nowhere near an honest one. Renjun tries to drag him into a conversation by gossipping about Hendery and Yuna’s strange, but blossoming relationship, but he only chuckles at the news as his eyes drift away into the distance.

You’re not around– much like many times before, hidden away in the shade with Hyunho– but this time, Yangyang feels as if he’s the reason why you didn’t pay them a visit. It only takes a few days, hell– maybe even hours– to find out that he’s been lying, and the moment you get ahold of this information, it’s all going to get even harder for him.

Pointing his gaze towards his beaten-up converse, he plucks the grass from its place under his body and twirls the stems between his fingers, head lost in all the possible scenarios that could occur when he sees you next.

You could slap him. He would even dare to say that he deserves it; he doubts he’d be mad at you if you tried to beat him up and curse at him in front of everyone. Maybe the shame would outdo the great mistake he’s made.

You could scream at him. Truth be told, most of the possible outcomes include you screaming or cursing at him. You’re not even a violent person, but he guesses there’s no other reaction that could be the outcome of this whole situation, and he doesn’t even blame you for that.

Because Dejun is right. He did it for himself.

There was no way he could help you with this, in any way, shape or form. All he did was cause you pain.

“Yangyang?” a voice above him calls his name, causing him to look up. His heart beats wildly in his chest, heat rising to his face in anxiety; you look at him with stern eyes and lips pursed into a thin line. “Can we talk?”

Nodding, he stands up and follows you a few meters away from your group of friends, ignoring their excited waves and questions of how you’ve been and what’s up. Yangyang feels like he’s nearing his death– and from how fast his heart is beating, it could very well mean he’s close to the end by a heart attack– you stand in the shade of another tree (the one you always hang out under with your boyfriend), crossing your hands at your chest.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice low and full of shame. Even if you had no idea, now is the time you’d find out– he would gladly tell you everything, if it meant you wouldn’t get mad at him for it. That’s not how the world works, though, and so he awaits your outburst, looking like a scared dog with its tail hidden in guilt.

“Why did you lie to me?” you ask. Your voice is steady. He would even go as far as saying that you practiced this conversation with yourself in front of the mirror– you’re not a coward though, he is, and the reality must be miles away from this statement. You’ve always been good at getting your point across– no circling around the topic, edging towards the point. You go straight for it, ready for the battle. That’s what Yangyang’s liked about you perhaps the most.

“I can explain-”

“Well, that’s why I’m asking, isn’t it?” you chuckle under your breath, the bossy attitude very much in its place.

“I- I kind of panicked? In a way? All I tried was to protect you,” he desperately gets out, sweating under your gaze.

“Panicked?” you repeat, disbelief shining in the tone of your voice. “You lied to me about my boyfriend cheating on me because you panicked? Yangyang, I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not quite following,” you furrow your brows at him, your sentences worthy of a lawyer’s degree.

“Look,” Yangyang sighs, pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose in hopelessness, “I couldn’t stand looking at you two together. He’s not being a good boyfriend to you, Y/N, and it hurts me to see how you get treated, when you deserve so much more!”

“That’s not for you to say!” you argue back, the scene already nearing the images he had in his brain.

“Well, who else was supposed to say it! No one cares as much as I do!”

“Yangyang!”

“That guy keeps lying to you, he keeps arriving late! Hell, he makes you pay all the time. You didn’t even know him well before you started dating him. Did he remember your anniversary?” he asks, the empty look in your eyes being enough of an answer to him, “See? Thought so. You never hang out with us anymore, he always ignores us… He stood you up and ignored you for multiple days, Y/N, for god’s sake!”

He feels the eyes of everyone on his back right now, the tone of his voice louder than he intended it to be. There’s no time to feel embarrassed, though– not when he’s trying to save his relationship with you.

“And so what, Yangyang? That’s not your shit to worry about,” you shake your head, “you hurt me. You really hurt me with your words, you know that?”

“It was necessary!” he grunts, helplessly shaking his head at your stance.

“You hate to see me with him that bad? That’s not what a good friend does, Yang,” you chew on the inside of your cheek, waiting for the last arguments that could come out of his mouth.

His heart shakes in his throat, palms sweating as his brain turns into autopilot. Fuck it, he thinks; he can’t save this anymore, so he might as well go all out. Maybe then, you’ll understand where he’s coming from better. Maybe you won’t hate him as much.

“Fuck, Y/N, that’s because I don’t want to be your friend! I could treat you so much better than he ever did.”

He doesn’t know what he expected with his words. He doesn’t know what reaction he wanted to get after his unprompted confession. Truth is, he didn’t think this far– even his wildest imaginations and scenarios he made up in his head never got to the point of him breaking and telling you how he feels.

Also, he never wanted it to sound as ‘second lead in a cliche, overplayed drama’ as it did. What is he, a Shawn Mendes song?

The reaction you give him kicks him in his gut, slaps him across the face, hits him with a full fist right into his nose. This is where a fragment of his imagination comes true. He could even be a psychic, who knows.

“Fuck you,” you spit, tongue poking the side of your cheek in pure anger, “you’re so, so unbelievably selfish.”

ix. when you change your mind, I'll be waiting

Days that come after are not much different from the weeks before. You still don’t talk to him or his friends, but the reason behind your silence is completely different now. It’s not you being busy; you no longer send an incoherent train of messages into the group chat with apologies of not knowing about the hang-outs sooner. Now, it’s because Yangyang stabbed you in the back and when he goes down, all your friends go down together. Not willingly, of course– you just knew all along that no one is happy with your new boyfriend. And that is enough of a reason for you to stay mad.

Yangyang feels numb. Drifting apart from your friends is natural. You can’t really do anything against it– bending yourself over for something that is no longer beneficial for both of the parties is never an okay thing to do. Sometimes, you just have to watch that person slowly disappear out of the reach, walk away from your life forever.

Drifting apart from your friends is natural, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt.

It hurts. It hurts so much that Yangyang chooses not to think about it any longer, because the truth is, you weren’t just his friend– you were his first love, as silly as it might sound.

Sure, he had crushes before– like on that girl in kindergarten or on that girl in middle school; the small devil that set his hair on fire in Chemistry class. It was never quite the same as the feelings he had for you, though. The nervousness and anxiety disappeared out of his body, the butterflies in his stomach not as panicky as with other girls in his life before. You made him feel calm. He didn’t have to worry about what you’d think of him when he was truly himself around you. He didn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not– he knew you liked him as he is, and that always made him so, so uncontrollably happy. He would even say he was your favorite; over time, you started acting so– but when that place in your life was suddenly taken out of his hands, with no time to prepare, he was left empty-handed and confused.

He was so, so fond of you. At times, it looked even simple– that’s how he knew he was in love with you. Love was supposed to be simple, after all, wasn’t it?

He spends his days at the café. It’s been a few weeks since you appeared at the door with your boyfriend, getting iced coffee together and then disappearing once again, on another one of your usual dates. He does his work on autopilot, his head somewhere completely else.

Exams pass as fast as they come. He is surprised with himself to still get a decent grade– although he thinks he would’ve done better if you studied with him instead. The trip to the McDonald’s with your friends and Dejun to celebrate the semester ending seems empty without your cheerful voice filling the room and he can’t get himself to focus on a single word that comes out of his friends’ mouths.

The last day of school is filled with emptiness in his stomach. It’s not that he’s not excited for summer break, but something tells him that it won’t be as exciting if you’re not there to drag him to the beach, or watch him skate around the town and fall down and scrape his knees. He was the main character of your Instagram stories last summer, and he was proud of being so. Not that he gained any new followers out of it, no– he just enjoyed the world seeing that he spends a lot of time with you.

Poking the food around on his plate, his head is hung low and his brows are furrowed into a worried expression. He doesn’t like sitting alone at lunch in the cafeteria, for it’s always filled to the brim with people and it makes him feel lonely, but all his friends are in class or at home, still, waiting for the last class of their semester to start after lunch break. He’s left alone– he’s quite getting used to it, though, so when the sound of a plate hitting the table across from him startles him from his slumber, he’s more shocked than ever before.

Looking up, he’s met with the state of you. It’s a sight that shakes him down to his core. Truth is, he wasn’t used to seeing you face to face anymore; not saying that he forgot what you looked like. He spent countless hours stalking you on social media, after all. Now, though, you look different than before– your hair looks less taken care of and your outfit looks like you put less effort into, resulting in wearing oversized clothing rather than carefully matched pieces completed with accessories. Today, you look simple, yet, even that was enough to make Yangyang’s eyes wide and lick his lips in anticipation.

“Can I sit here?” you ask. Yangyang feels himself eagerly nod, putting the fork in his hand away, as if to brace himself for the impact of your words.

Your body slungs itself into the seat in front of him, placing your arms onto the table and nestling a little in your place. Yangyang would even go as far as calling you nervous, from how your eyes hesitantly meet his figure and kick your leg up and down under the table.

“What’s up?” he breaks the silence, because he thinks that if you sit with him without a word much longer, he’s going to explode.

Shrugging, you tightly smile. “Not much. How did your exams go?”

The question catches him off guard. He surely didn’t expect such causality from you, after everything that’s happened between the two of you. “They went well,” he shrugs, “yours?”

You nod, the smile on your face growing even tighter. “Yeah, they went okay, I guess…” you mumble, “could have gone better, but… given the circumstances I was in, I’m glad I could even focus on writing the answers down, to be honest.”

Yangyang wants to ask you what happened. Surely, the fight you had couldn’t be the reason why you couldn’t focus on your exams. You were the top of the class, the best student; you never had any problems with studying. There must have been something else going on that made you be out of it. He almost opens his mouth to ask you about it, when you cut him off and ask another question, desperately wanting to keep up with the conversation.

“Do you have any plans for the summer?” your eyes light up when you finally open your mouth and take a bite of the food sitting on your plate, waiting for your friend to answer as you chew on the sandwich.

“...not really,” he shrugs. He had plans before; he wanted to take you to the beach again, but this time, you’ll have a sandcastle contest. He also wanted to go camping, and there was this latino party scheduled for the fourth week of the break he wanted to take you to. He also wanted to invite you to his hometown, because his mother wanted to see you. And somewhere along the way, he wanted to confess to you… but that plan clearly failed.

“Hm,” you hum, swallowing before you speak again, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t teach me how to skate this summer. You know, since I was too scared to try last year.”

Yangyang hesitantly meets your eyes again, licking his lips with nerves. What is it with you suddenly having plans for the summer with him? For all he knew, you never wanted to see him again after his blatant lie a few weeks ago.

“But that’s gonna have to wait a few weeks. I… I have to go home to visit my mum. She’s been on and on about how I never come home nowadays, and that I should just spend the summer break at home this time and that I need to get out of this town, but I…” you trail off, shaking your head, “all I’m saying is, I’ll meet you in three weeks. And then, we can do whatever you want.”

He stays quiet. The whole conversation is strange, the situation making his stomach twist and anxiety sit in his bones. This is not how he’s used to feeling next to you, so it’s all new to him, but just the fact that you’re talking to him, seemingly not mad anymore, is making him fill with courage as he moves closer to the edge of the seat and cracks his knuckles, preparing himself.

“Y/N…” he trails off, in a sudden loss for words.

“You were right,” you get out, a tight smile plastered on your face, “I broke up with him,” you say, nodding to prove your point.

Nothing in the world could prepare him for the words that came out of your mouth. He’s not even sure how he should feel– does he get happy? Does he feel sorry for your failed relationship? How does a man, who’s coincidentally, still kind of in love with someone, feel when that someone breaks up with their toxic boyfriend?

Is it relief? Joy? He’s not quite sure.

Perhaps he hasn’t grown enough as a person to feel worry for you at first. After a few heartbeats, though, it settles in, and he finds himself uttering out the words.

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N.”

“Yeah, it’s- it’s okay. I should have listened a long time ago. But that’s not important right now-”

“What happened?” he asks. The change is sudden, for sure. You seemed like you would never break up with that dude, no matter how many valid arguments you got from your friends. So what changed your mind?

“He cheated on me,” you say, chuckling a little in irony, “maybe you should be a psychic, or something, because with how accurate your predictions are, you would have a secure place on the market. Maybe I’ll get you tarot cards for your birthday, so we have more to work with-” you ramble on and on, until he doesn’t compose himself and cut you off, saving you from your misery.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You didn’t deserve that.”

You bite on your cheek, nodding. He must admit, you look down. Yes, he did want you to break up with Hyunho, but never in a million years would he really want you to hurt as much as actually finding out that he cheated on you.

“Thanks, Yangyang,” you mutter, smiling– except this time, the smile looks genuine, “so… we don’t have to talk about all of that. Let’s just… leave it in the past,” you giggle, taking another bite of your sandwich.

Your friend nods, suddenly feeling lighter. The weight of shattering the friendship you two had is no longer sitting on his shoulders, and although it’s shitty, he’s glad he has you back. He never knew just how much you could miss someone until he didn’t get to the point of missing the one person he claimed to be the most important to him.

“I had a few plans for summer, actually,” he says, smiling, “we could do them all after you arrive.”

“Really?” you light up, kicking him lightly under the table.

“Yeah! I wanted to go to the beach, since you like it that much.”

“You don’t even have to plan that, you already know I’m dragging your ass over there every third day of the summer,” you laugh.

“And we could go camping,” he mentions, “with everyone. I know Renjun has a tent he could lend us, and Dejun is learning how to play the guitar recently, so we can exploit him a little and invite him just so he can play some tunes while we start the bonfire,” he grins.

“Amazing. Anything else?”

“Hmm…” he searches in his brain, the schedule he made in his phone a few months ago opening in front of his eyes as a hologram, “there’s a latino party the week after you come back.”

“I hate dancing…” you mourn out, seeing him laugh at you.

“That’s not true!”

“It totally is.”

“Well then, I don’t care. I’m dragging you with me, because there’s no way you will get through this summer without seeing that those hips don’t lie,” he giggles, suggestively wiggling in his seat, making you burst out with laughter.

“Okay,” you nod, rolling your eyes playfully at your friend. Something in the air suggests that you both missed this– useless ideas shared at the lunch table, careless laughter flowing through the space. It’s like the universe is back aligned again, because you two are in each other’s lives, content with each other’s company. “Any other plans that need mentioning?”

“Well…” Yangyang starts, the checklist in his phone app he made before you started dating your ex boyfriend materializing in his thoughts, the last paragraph loud and clear in his mind.

4. confess or whatever; it says at the very bottom. Yangyang despises that he remembers it so clearly.

“We’ll see. I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” he says, seeing you smile widely at him, finishing the last bite of your sandwich.

Standing up from your place, he follows you as you escape the cafeteria. The hot air outside slaps both of you in the face, but neither of you care as you bathe in the sunlight, enjoying the first day of summer break together. You’re leaving for three weeks, and Yangyang’s sure he’ll miss you; but the few days are nothing against the weeks of silence he got from you when he messed up in the past. He’s sure he can live through it. At least now, he’s sure you’re coming back.

“I’m excited to spend the summer with you all,” you say when you sit outside.

“Me too,” he smiles. The sun hits his eyes, making him squint, but even that can’t make him hate the feeling of incoming summer that visits him with a promise of adventure.

And when you put your head on his shoulder, relaxed and comfortable, looking up to meet his eyes with eyes full of familiar glimmer, Yangyang almost promises to himself to confess to you again, when the time is right and you’re both ready.

Who knows. It might even work next time.

#nct #wayv #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv fluff #wayv angst #yangyang fluff #yangyang angst #nct fic #wayv fic #yangyang fic #yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct imagine #wayv imagine #yangyang imagine

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duino · 3 years

Text

"PRO-CON" Pairing: Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, alcohol and partying

Word Count: 5.4k (remember the good ol' days when I wrote less than 3k?)

Summary: The pros of staying friends with your ex naturally comes with some cons. Pro? You're friends. Con? You're still in love with him.

Note: Angst/Romantic ending. Exes to Lovers. There was a time I wrote coherent story lines but those days are GONE. Nothing but messy word dumps from here on out friends.

Pro of staying friends with your ex? It’s less awkward at college parties. (In theory.)

Con of staying friends with your ex? You have to see him with a new girl at said college parties and pretend it doesn’t phase you, not even a little. Nope, not one bit. No, seriously, you’re fine.

“You’re so not fine with this,” your friend Hina drawls, handing you a red solo cup. It’s filled with a sickly, candy-red liquid and you crinkle your nose before taking a swig.

“This is disgusting,” you say, immediately taking another drink.

“Well drink up, buttercup, ‘cause it’s that or lukewarm beer.”

You consider tossing the drink out, but then a familiar laugh rings through the room, over the noise, into your chest and you look and see a pretty, dark-haired girl squeezing the arm of your (unfairly) pretty, dark-haired ex.

“Fuck it,” you breathe, and take a couple hard swallows. “God, this tastes like cough syrup.”

“We can always leave,” Hina offers, peppy.

“This corner of the house or the party?”

“No, the party.” Your friend grins. “You know I love a dark corner.”

“I promised I’d come,” you remind her.

“Part of being a full adult is you’re allowed to leave at any time,” she says sagely. “You don’t even need to say goodbye. We could just go.”

“You’re an animal,” you say, dry. “Well, I feel about half an adult, so at least let me say hi to Jin before we dip.” If you’re lucky, you might be able to avoid your ex and the introduction to his new…friend.

Jin’s house, which is not really his house at all but shared between five other roommates, is famous —or infamous, depending— for the parties. He had watched one American movie featuring a romanticized high school rager and next thing you knew, there was a giant disco ball being wheeled in via wood slats duct taped onto two skateboards (he’s a drafting and design engineering major). You had helped them hang it and thus been ceremoniously invited to every “semester bash,” in perpetuity.

Despite the bones of the house being spacious, every corner has been filled with bizarre knick-knacks and décor; it’s an amalgamation of all six roommates and their corresponding styles. Movie posters framed next to prints of landscapes next to a gallery of family photos. The couch is brand new, and the rug was dragged through the streets of a flea market. You have to brush past as many houseplants as there are people to make it to the kitchen, where Jin always resides on the throne that is the island countertop.

“Lookie, lookie,” Jin says, voice booming over the music and people. “It’s our Disco Queen!” His nickname for you. People around him cheer, even if most of them don’t get the reference. You curtsey and humbly deny a beer.

“I’m happy with my cold medicine,” you say, swirling around your cup of punch.

“Family recipe,” Jin says, then hops down to give you a hug. “You can thank grandma for your hangover tomorrow.”

You snort and raise your cup, tapping it on his beer bottle. “May she live a long and prosperous life,” you say and you both drink. “Hey, listen Jin, I’m gonna head out.”

“What? But it’s not even midnight.” He is genuinely aghast.

“I’m old.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m tired.”

“No you’re not.”

“Jin,” you laugh, “I’ve gotta go. It’s so not my night tonight.”

Jin gets contemplative and then grabs your arm suddenly. “Oh no,” he says. “Oh shit, I had no idea Kuroo was going to be here—”

“Jin, it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “Should I kick him out?” He’s so earnest you have to laugh.

Pro of staying friends with your ex? You can say, “No, we’re good. No bad blood,” and mean it.

Con of staying friends with your ex? Nobody ever seems to believe you.

“Really? You’re good?” He’s squeezing your arm and you can see he’s a moment away from sitting you down in the nearest bathroom and giving you an impromptu, drunk therapy session. “Because I would completely understand if you needed to cry on my shoulder right now.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Very funny. Seriously, we’re good. I’m good.”

And you know what? You are. It’s been three months since your breakup with Kuroo and the idea of it doesn’t make you sick anymore. Three months, and when you two run into each other on the street or on campus there isn’t that moment where you’re hoping, or pretending you’re cool, or hiding that piece of you that still wants him. Three months, and when you think of him as your friend, he is just that. Mostly. Every day he becomes a little bit less your ex, and a little more your friend who you happened to date. (Never mind that you had been desperately in love. Never mind that you had cried yourself to sleep for a week.)

That does not, however, mean that you’re okay watching him flirt with another girl. Maybe someday, though that someday seems impossible now, at a house party wedged between a very passionate couple, Jin’s dolefully compassionate eyes, and a Ficus.

Still, Jin sees the surety in your eyes and nods, satisfied. “Good. In that case, I have a friend for you.” His eyes go wicked.

“What? No, Jin, I told you, I’m leaving—”

He pretends not to hear you and waves someone over. You’re staring at your friend, alarmed. “For fun,” he says, cajoling. “You need some fun.”

“I do not need fun,” you hiss. “I need —hey,” you break off as the figure approaches. “Hi.”

“Hey,” the stranger says, with an easy smile. “Hey, dude,” he says to Jin. He’s tall, brunette, pretty face. “You must be the Disco Queen Jin keeps telling me about,” he grins and holds out a hand. “I’m Makato.” He has dimples and you immediately forget his name.

“Hey,” you say again. “Yes. Disco Queen. That’s me.” Apparently, after Kuroo, you’ve forgotten how to flirt. Jin elbows you without subtlety. You elbow him back.

Makato —Makato? Yes, Makato— watches the both of you, amused and relaxed. “Wanna grab some air?” he asks you. He does it so easily, so bold in his ease, that it disarms you.

“Sure,” you blurt out, because it feels like the right thing to say when someone is so brazen with you. “Why not.”

You let the tall, handsome man lead you through the people and ignore how unbearably pleased Jin is with himself. Makato says, “I know a place,” with twinkling eyes and you let him think you don’t know every inch of this property like the back of your hand. You’ve spent more than one sophomore night here, too drunk to go home the night before.

“Do you,” you say, despite it all, and the thirty feet you’ve walked has somehow given you your flirtatious edge back. “How mysterious.”

“Gotta keep you guessing, right?” He throws a lopsided grin over his shoulder. You give him a mindless smile back.

You’ve almost made it to the back door when a hand on your arm stops you. Your body recognizes the touch before your mind does; you jerk a little and turn and then jerk again when you realize who it is. “Oh,” you say, “Hi. Hey.”

“Hi,” Kuroo says, smiling softly. “Hey.” His expression is so familiar, so dear in that familiarity that you actually lose composure for a moment. Then he glances behind you at Makato and though his smile remains, it goes distant and a little hard. He looks back at you. “I've been looking for you. Saw you come with Hina.”

“Who’s this?” Makato asks. He’s as warm to Kuroo as he was for you.

“My friend—”

“Her ex—” Kuroo interjects. “We used to date.” You press your lips together tight.

“We’re just friends now,” you say. Makato keeps his easy demeanor. He’s either high or enlightened, you can’t tell.

“That’s cool,” he says, and he really means it. You snort and laugh and give him an appraising look. Your drink is giving you a pleasant buzz and your new friend a pleasant glow.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Kuroo says. He seems to be ignoring Makato completely. Your brows pinch. You don’t understand his expression.

“Well, here I am,” you say.

“Here you are,” Kuroo says. He’s tense around the edges. From behind you, Makato places a cautious hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Makato says, “if you wanna meet up another time, or…”

“No,” you say, abrupt. A small thread of irritation pierces you. You’ve spent the past few months hurt and healing and trying to manage a new friendship with your ex-boyfriend and now he was —what? What was he doing? You aren’t sure, but it’s something. You know him well enough to know that. “Could you just give me a moment, though? I’ll meet you outside?” You give Makato another sweet, mindless smile and he mirrors it easily, completely unphased.

“Cool,” he says. “Definitely. See you in a bit.”

You watch him go and then turn to Kuroo with raised brows. “You couldn’t have been nicer?”

Your ex’s returned smile is sardonic. “He couldn’t tell the difference either way.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You like when I’m a menace,” he replies. Someone behind him jostles into the both of you and Kuroo grabs your arm and moves you into a quieter corner, half-concealed by a large hanging plant and a giant statue of a globe (you’re pretty sure Jin and his boyfriend had hauled it out of the trash somewhere). “How are you? How’ve you been?” He squeezes your arm. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You narrow your eyes. “We saw each other last week in the hall.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but we haven’t like, seen, each other.”

You keep your voice dry to stop the strange cocktail of feelings being near him is giving you: irritation, sadness and immediate acceptance, fondness that you think will exist within you forever. Being dry and distant feels easier than any of those things. “Probably because you’ve been busy with your pretty friend over there,” you say. You manage to sound amused, blasé even.

Kuroo looks faintly confused. “My ‘pretty friend’? What?”

“With the dark hair and the glasses?”

Kuroo’s eyes widen. “She’s not—"

“What? Your friend?”

“Well, she’s a friend, but she’s not—”

“It’s okay if she is, Kuroo.” Your use of his last name seems to fluster him. For all his sly smiles and mischievous eyes, you know there’s tentative heart underneath. A pang of guilt shoots through you. You’re being distant with that tentative heart as much as you’re being distant with the parts of him that irritate you. He runs a hand through his hair, sticking it up in every direction.

“I know but, she’s not…y’know…”

He looks to awkward that you take pity and put a hand on his arm. You’re both glad and disappointed at your own gladness; you should be over this by now, you should be okay with seeing him out and with someone else and not feeling smug when he says otherwise. “I’m teasing,” you say. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“I live for you teasing me,” he says softly, and gives you a wry smile.

You don’t want to feel sad anymore, but you do. Every conversation with Kuroo feels wrought with history and the struggle of moving past it. You want to be happy at the idea of moving on, but you secretly hate it. You want to be friendly but then he says something like I live for you teasing me, and the lines between the both of you are blurred by memory. You want to feel steady and sure of yourself and the decisions you’ve both made, and you are for a bit, and then he looks at you and you aren’t.

You wonder if Kuroo struggles in the same way and then you look at his face, and you know he does. You both search each other, see the mirrored feelings —complex and tangled as they are— and you both share a smile.

Pro of staying friends with your ex? There’s someone who knows you, the secret part of you, and understands. (And loves, but neither one of you will say that word. Not again —not in the same way.)

Con of staying friends with your ex? It makes it twice as hard to move on.

But you have to, that’s the thing. You can’t pine forever. You can’t be standing here with him, in the hidden corner at a college part, doing what? You almost say it. What are we doing? But you don’t really want to know.

Instead, you say, “I should go. Makato’s waiting for me.”

Kuroo’s brows pinch, like you’ve brough him out of a daydream too soon. “Is he —ah, shit. Never mind.” He looks frustrated with himself more than anything. “Of course. Have fun,” he adds, and then winces and you know why.

“You too,” you say, gentle. And then, knowing you have to move past this moment somehow, you say, “It was good to see you, Tetsurō.” It’s not quite the nickname you used to use, but it’s better than the formality of his last name and Kuroo’ll take what he can get.

The two of you don’t hug, but he offers you an awkward fist bump and when you laugh and tap your knuckles on his, he laughs and the tension breaks, if only a little.

“See you around, Tetsurō,” you say.

“Sure,” he says. He’s grinning, he’s sad. “See you around.”

You don’t look back, but you know he’s watching you go.

You hate that you can’t enjoy being kissed right now. Makato’s pressing you against the outside of the house, hand half up your shirt, giving you his best efforts and you can only give him half-hearted kisses in return. You feel too aware of yourself, of him, of your own thoughts.

People pass by and they whistle at the two of you and Makato pulls away. He studies you face.

“I think maybe I’ve misread things,” he says after a moment. He’s got on that easy smile again, and you wonder what its like to be so nonchalant about everything.

You’re a little flustered, a little relieved. “No, you didn’t. I wanted to kiss you, I just…” You make an inarticulate gesture with your hands.

“I get it. Exes are tough. Being friends with an ex is tougher, sometimes.” He’s got kind, regretful eyes.

Your first instinct is to deny him but he’s being so nice. “You’re…very observant.”

He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Psychology major. But I don’t have to be that observant to see you still love him. It’s cool, really. I get it,” he says again. “Went through the same thing last year with my ex. It sucks.”

“I don’t love him,” you rush to say, but even as the words leave you, you realize how untrue they are, how it feels like a betrayal to yourself to even think of saying them. “Or,” you falter, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” Especially not with a guy you’re supposed to be “having fun” with. You groan. “I’m so sorry.”

Makato chuckles, putting a hand on your shoulder fondly. “Hey, I thought you were cute, and I took a chance. No harm, no foul.”

You pat his hand with yours. “At any other time of my life…”

“Stop beating yourself up about this. Really.”

You look up at him, and for the first time that night, you appreciate the man in front of you truly and genuinely. “You’re a really good guy, Makato.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “And you’re a gem, Disco Queen. That guy back there’s a fool if he didn’t see that.”

You give him a smile with some effort. Kuroo not appreciating you had never been the problem, but you don’t want to think about that anymore, not tonight. You wanted to do what you had originally planned: go home and curl up in a duvet and sleep for a day and a half.

Makato takes a step away from you and then holds out his hand. “Friends?”

You laugh and take his hand gratefully. “Friends.” Then you look at him again. “You know, speaking of. I have a friend. She’s single.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow. “Do tell.”

“Her name’s Hina. She’ll never let you have the last word, and she hates parties, but she’s the best.”

“You know what I think?” Makato says, grinning wide. You have to mirror him.

“What?”

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

You laugh and kiss him on the cheek, right where his dimples are. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

You leave the party without saying goodbye to anyone. Turns out you can just leave. You had texted Hina before, but it turns out she had already left.

Saw you walking out with a total hottie! I’m tired and drunk! Text me!

I’m home! I hope you’re busy making me an aunty right now ;) ;) ;)

Funny story, you text back, but you don’t get a reply so Hina must already be sleeping.

You decide to walk back to your dorm. The night is warm with late spring, the path is short, and you need to clear your head.

There’s a sweet loneliness you feel, walking home alone. The music of Jin’s party starts to fade and so are the two drinks you had. It’s your first time leaving one of his parties early. You’ve walked this way so many times, usually stumbling, usually with friends. Often, with Kuroo. Most of the time you had either still been drunk, or terribly hungover. It’s weird to retrace these familiar steps relatively sober with no one to laugh with and bump your shoulder against. It wasn’t that long ago. It was a lifetime ago. Time is everything and nothing.

It’s senior year now and then, in just a small while, you’ll be graduated. In so many ways, this walk feels like leaving some part of your youth behind. It happens so slowly and then too fast, too sudden. You’re laughing with someone you thought you would love forever and then you’re alone.

You cross your arms over your chest like it’ll protect you from the ache that’s entering you, that’s always been there but you haven’t let yourself feel until now, surrounded by nothing but nighttime quiet.

Damn Kuroo, and damn your heart for reacting like this. I’ve been looking for you all night. I live for you teasing me. His gaze, his regretful smile. There’s a prick of tears at your eyes and you shake your head, fighting them off. You’ve done enough crying. You’ve just gotten over the crying part of things. You try to find, within yourself, the girl who could say I’m good to Jin and mean it.

But maybe you never get over it. Maybe you leave a part of your heart here, under this pavement, and you’ll never be able to walk this way again without it being a little sad.

The tears persist, and soon you’re wiping blindly at your face as you walk. You’re halfway home when you hear someone shout your name from behind you. You startle and turn around, hands raised in defence. Your tears make the figure approaching you into a blur. It doesn’t matter. You’d know the shape of him anywhere. Your shoulders don’t lose their tension.

Kuroo raises a brow when he reaches you. And then he sees your trembling lip, your wide eyes and his steps falter. “Shit, did something happen?” he asks immediately. He wants to reach out for you, you can see it in the stiff lines of his body, but you know if you let him hold you now, you’ll start crying in earnest and that’s not how you want this night to go.

“I’m just a sentimental drunk,” you say, voice thick. Kuroo smiles like I know you are.

“You dork,” he says, but there’s still faint concern on his face. “What are you doing walking home alone?”

“What are you doing following me?” you counter.

“I wanted to know why you were walking home alone.”

“Turns out you can leave a party early, if you want, and you don’t even have to tell anybody.”

Kuroo quirks a smile. “Revolutionary.”

“You can thank Hina for that little nugget of wisdom.”

“Oh man,” he laughs, “I miss her wisdom.” You give him a tense smile; your lives used to be so twined. “Can I walk with you?” he asks, after a moment.

You hesitate and then nod.

Somehow, Kuroo walking next to you makes the bittersweetness of memory even keener. You know he remembers this walk, your time in love together, just as sharply, and every so often you can see a memory come to his face, his smile, and then his slight frown. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t try to say anything either.

Every few steps, the back of his hand brushes against yours.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks, after a couple blocks.

You unfurl your fist to reveal a piece of paper. Makato had written his number down for you to give to Hina. You had forgotten you’d been holding it.

Kuroo stares at the crinkled paper for a minute before looking away. The urge comes to explain yourself, but you realize you shouldn’t need to. He had showed up with another girl and, after all, the both of you are supposed to be friends.

Another block in tightrope silence.

“Remember when we were leaving Jin’s house and you realized you had a paper due the next morning?” you try. It feels like a safe memory —one from before you guys got together, when it was just friendship.

Kuroo cracks a smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks. “You stayed up with me all night to help me write it. I remember.” His expression goes wistful.

“And you got a B! You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re an angel.” He says and you thaw. He sees you thawing and carries on. “Remember when we had to carry Hina home? You, me, that random guy she was supposed to hook up with…”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “We had to take turns piggybacking her. She’s the worst lightweight I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, except you couldn’t lift her so I ended up doing all the work,” Kuroo jabs you gently with his elbow.

You jab him back, laughing. “It was, like, two in the morning! I was basically passing out myself.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Remember when you had to piggyback me home? In, like, a foot of snow?” you laugh and then stop very suddenly. Kuroo’s expression goes flat. This was not a safe memory. Because he had—

“I remember that,” he whispers.

You open your mouth but you have nothing to say. Maybe you could ignore it, bulldoze through with another recollection, something light and easy. His brows are drawn, his face half-shadowed. You look to your feet and then to your fist that’s still holding onto Makato’s number. You slip it into your pants pocket. You really don’t want to start crying again, not in front of him.

“I told you I loved you,” he says. His eyes are far away, trying to see something beyond the streetlights, beyond the buildings. “For the first time.”

The past tense of the word loved nearly does you in. “Kuroo,” you say. His last name again: distance and maybe a warning. This is thin ice.

He stops walking. After a couple steps you do, too. When you turn to face him, his face is drawn tight.

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“Kuroo,” you say again, firmer this time. That firmness feels like the only thing holding up the wall between the both of you right now.

“Fuck, I’m—” he shakes his head, lets out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m an idiot.”

You don’t know what he means. Or rather you do, but you can’t let yourself go there. It’s been three months since the breakup, and you are not undoing all the progress you’ve made. You can’t. “You’re just a sentimental drunk, too,” you say.

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. You start walking again and after a moment, you hear his steps follow behind you. Another wordless block passes, more tense than the last.

“I’m not just being drunk,” he says, eventually.

You close your eyes briefly. You will yourself not to say anything.

“I’m not just being drunk,” he repeats, and then time reaches and catches your hand in his, tugging you to a stop again. “Hey, wait. Wait.”

“Wait,” you parrot, the word leaving your mouth in a harsh breath. Kuroo lets go of your hand immediately. “For what, exactly?” He stares at you with desperate eyes. You know those eyes. He looked just like this when he was ending things. “What are we doing?” you ask.

You’ve been so close to this question for months, every time he sort-of flirts with you in a passing hallway, every time his eyes linger on yours for too long. Every time you see him, and want him, and you can see the same wanting on his face. And you’ve been scared of the answer, because what if he says nothing? What if all the both of you are doing is prolonging the inevitable end? Would you stand for your heart being broken twice?

You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t, you wait some more, and you give him more time and another minute more and more, until tears are in your eyes again, blurring the man in front of you. You’ve always given him more time. You think, if this night hasn’t happened, you might have given him all your days. Waiting, waiting. Absurd as it is, you feel the truth of it.

But then what would you have left to give yourself?

“I think,” you start to say and even though your voice trembles, there is a sureness in you that allows you to face him. You wipe at your eyes to see him clearly. Kuroo looks in pain. “Maybe we need some real distance.”

“What do you mean?” There’s a thread of fear in his voice. You swallow hard.

“I mean, after you ended things…” You take a moment to compose yourself. “After you ended things, we never had any breathing room. I never had any time to get over you. And I don’t think,” you say, trying to smile even now, “that we can be very good ‘just friends’ to each other if I’m still trying to get over you. So, maybe, distance. Distance would be good.”

The dismay is plain on Kuroo’s face. He shakes his head like he’s struggling to understand you. “Wait, no —what? I don’t want distance.”

“Kuroo,” you plead.

“This isn’t —fuck, this isn’t what I wanted. I—”

“Listen—”

“I don’t want distance from you—”

“You can’t have it both ways!” you say, finally. You don’t shout it, but your voice has risen, and there is, suddenly, anger in you. “That’s not fair. You can’t break up with me and then still have me.”

Kuroo takes a step back like he’s been struck. His eyes are wide, hurt like you’ve never seen him. You almost take the words back. Almost.

“I didn’t,” he begins and then stops. “I hadn’t thought,” he tries again. But nothing. He’s fighting back something; you can see it.

“It’s confusing to me,” you say, “when you tell me you don’t want me and then do shit like this.”

His jaw flexes. His eyes are almost black in the night. “I never said I don’t want you.”

Whatever effect he thought he’d achieve with those words, it most certainly is the opposite to the frustration you feel now. “Oh my god, then what do you want, Kuroo?” There’s anger and sorrow both, and they’re rising hard in your chest. “What do you want? Because three months ago, you said you wanted to break up. And now you’re saying —what? That you still want me? After everything. After you blindsided me with a breakup and then asked to be friends and I said yes, of all things, I said yes,” the words are rolling out of you, words you had never said to him, were afraid to say to yourself, “and I didn’t even know why you broke up with me! Not really. You just fucking closed yourself off and then ended it one day and I never knew why, I never knew why, I just respected it, because I loved you —I love you— and you couldn’t even tell me why—”

“I was scared,” he says, harsh. You snap your mouth shut, lips trembling. When he speaks again, his voice is barely over a murmur. “I was scared, okay? Of losing you.” He sounds scraped raw.

There’s a moment where you have to register his words before you make a derisive noise, all the anger you had pushed aside for the sake of a friendship kindling in your stomach. You almost say, you’re losing me anyway, but you don’t because then you’d be lying to yourself as well as him and you don’t have it in yourself to be cruel.

Instead, “Are you serious?” You look away from him, shaking your head. “Of all the ridiculous…I was scared too, Kuroo! But I didn’t run away from it, I didn’t pull away from you—” You look back and your voice fades.

There it is again, his tentative heart. It’s in his eyes, the tight press of his mouth. He looked this way when he first asked you out, when he first said he loved you. When he began pulling away. You can’t divorce one from the other: the man that broke your heart is also the man that loved you for almost three years is also the man who makes you angry is also the man now, afraid, and hurting as you’re hurting.

And you know why he’s scared. He’s told you so many times, stories of himself as a young boy, sneaking downstairs in his parent’s house just to overhear all the awful things he couldn’t understand yet. His mother crying, his father leaving for the night. The cold slam of a door, the engine fading in the distance.

Sometimes I think you’re too good, and you’ll disappear. He’s admitted that to you before, in whispers before dawn. You remember it now and your heart turns, the walls you had built against him softening.

Pro of staying friends with your ex? You love him, after it all, despite it all.

Con of staying friends with your ex? You love him, after it all. Despite it all. Because of it all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you whisper back. “I didn’t mean to get angry and dramatic.”

He gives you a weak smile. “You weren’t being dramatic. And you’re allowed to be angry.”

You stare at each other a long while, the night around you beginning to cool. It’s a block to your dorm. It’s two steps towards Kuroo. Your heart is somewhere between the two.

You break the livewire silence. “I have to hear you say it.”

Kuroo’s eyes turn alert. “Hear me say it?” There’s uncertain hope in him and it kills you.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I have to hear you say what you want. What we’re doing. Because I’m not going be jerked back and forth—”

“I love you,” Kuroo rushes out, desperate. “I love you. I want you. I want you back, I want to earn you back.” His body is aching with the need to hold you, but he stays still and frozen. “And if you don’t feel the same, if I fucked it up then it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll be okay with that, somehow. But if there’s even a chance…”

Of course there’s a chance. You’ve known that for a long time.

There’s something you don’t want to ask. What if you get scared again? But even as think it you realize that’ll always just be a con of love, no matter who it is. That’s the risk of it. The heart can always be broken.

The pro? You think Kuroo might be worth it.

It’s not the end of the conversation, but it’s the beginning of a new beginning. You smile, and then Kuroo smiles because he sees the beginning there, suspended between the both of you.

You take the first step, and he meets you in the middle.

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