#but I’ll always hold that first podium with AM close to my heart
Text
FERNANDO || Everything you lose is a step you take.
#pls don’t let this flop#this is HIS song#fireplace ashes? blood sweat and tears? pages turned bridges burned?#HIM#today can be THE day#but I’ll always hold that first podium with AM close to my heart#f1 x taylor swift#my brand#fernando alonso#f1
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
vmin au fake dating
vmin au where they’re best friends, always coming so close to being something but it was never the right time
The first time they almost kissed was at graduation, caps on the floor, the adrenaline of finally getting their degree still coursing through their veins inching closer and closer to each other, taehyungs hand on jimins waist, gripping hard, pulling him taut to his chest when all of a sudden their friend jumps on taehyungs back - “we did it!”
The second time they almost kissed was when Jimin walked through the door after a failed date, sniffling as he kicked off his shoes, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he stalked to the couch curling up immediately to taehyungs side
“Jiminie?” Taehyung said, dropping everything as he brought Jimin into his arms, holding him tight, “chim? Baby? What’s wrong?”
“God taehyung it was a shitshow! He doesn’t care about me! He never did. He just wanted to tell people he was able to hit that,” Jimin sobbed
“I’ll kill him.” Taehyung declared through gritted teeth
“I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong? Do I only go for assholes? Am I not lovable?” Jimin sobbed
Taehyung immediately softened, cupping jimins cheeks as he wiped away the tears, “Hey look at me.”
Jimin sniffled and leaned into his touch, “you’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out, and if assholes can’t see that then screw them. Whoever loves you and gets to be loved by you will be the luckiest person on earth, because it’s you, Jimin. It’s always been you.”
Jimin leaned in ever so slightly, eyes fluttering shut, eyelashes brushing against his cheek, but taehyung didn’t want their first kiss to be like this, so he pulled away
“Let get you to bed hmm?”
They’ve always come so close, but never crossed that line. Two best friends who know each other better than they know themselves
So what could go wrong when they signed up to be contestants in a game show made for couples just to win a free all expenses paid trip to Bora Bora
They stood next to each other on the podium, a little tense and nervous but they had their story all prepared, rehearsed the same cliche questions over and over making sure it didn’t sound fake or like a script
The game show host took turns asking each team questions before finally stopping at Taehyung
“Taehyung!”
“Yes sir,” he said
“So the audience wants to know, when was the first time you realised that you were in love with your partner Jimin?”
They rehearsed this. He should know. The answer they practiced was simple, it was easy - “we were on our third date and he ordered chocolate ice cream with sprinkles. Before taking a bite he offered it to me.”
But taehyung made one mistake, one that they didn’t account for when preparing the answers. Taehyung had fallen in love with Jimin long before college, long before they shared a dorm and opened acceptance letters
and taehyungs mistake was giving the host the truth
“I fell in love with him when he sat next to me in high school. I didn’t have any friends back then and Jimin was fairly popular but he didn’t care. He saw me reading a manga and he sat down and talked to me like I was a real person, not a freak.” Taehyung said looking at Jimin
“Tae….” Jimin breathed out
Taehyung continued, “he followed me home that day and wouldn’t leave even though I told him that associating with me would only make him get hurt. But he didn’t care. He stayed for everything. He stayed for one day, then a week. He stayed for the days that I ran home crying because I was bullied, and he stayed when I screamed at him for getting detention for kicking the bullies ass. He stayed for when my grandma died, and stayed for when I got rejected from my dream school. He stayed when I got my heart broken. He stayed and helped me fix it. He stayed. And that’s all that matters - he made a home in my heart and has brought me in to live with him,” taehyung said, the rest of the world melting away as he looked at Jimin
“I fell in love with him before I knew what the love meant. But ever since that day, love has only ever meant one thing…love to me is Jimin.”
-end-
0 notes
Text
Lost Eyes | Schlatt x Reader
This is my entry for @sugarsoftie‘s 600 follower special! Again, congrats for the 600 followers!
“I can’t believe I used to love you” | Angst | Staring into his eyes, you know he is no longer the one you gave your heart to.
A melody filled the air as people filed into the walls of Manburg. You stood at the sides, welcoming those that came to attend the festival. You shake hands with them as they move to the main section of the festival. As the last of the guests enter, you turn and look over the place. You note the decorations strewn around, set up by Tubbo and Fundy. The colorful balloons and banners making the festival look welcoming and warm. Your eyes trailed to the many booths and stalls open, the vendors preparing their products. You see Niki preparing baked goods by her stall, the smell of freshly made bread wafting through the air. Your train of thought was interrupted when someone put their hand on your shoulder. You flinched in surprise, turning around to face them.
You breathed a sigh of relief as it was only Tubbo. “Don’t startle me like that! I could have gotten a heart attack Tubs.” You exaggerate, letting out a chuckle. You hear Tubbo giggle too, but he stops as he tries to speak. “Sorry (Y/N), but uh, Schlatt wants to speak you before the festivities all properly start.”
“Ah, what does our dear president want now.” You sigh, nodding to Tubbo in acknowledgment and turning to leave for whatever business Schlatt may have with you.
You were an advisor and cabinet member of L’manburg, no Manburg when Schlatt came to power. Despite not being an original citizen and just a bystander and audience member in the election, Schlatt had decided you were worthy of being part of his cabinet, you think. When the original founder of the country was cast out of his creation, you had opted not to attack and join the ones who smelled blood and attacked, following the orders of the current president.
You took to your assigned task efficiently, you followed through with the decisions made in the cabinet meetings and gave out your thoughts and opinions on the matter. Though you did not fail to notice the glances the president threw at you. When you decided to confront Schlatt about his staring, he had bravely spoken of his interest for you. Stating that your sharp mind and intellect, along with the fact that you were on good terms with most of the people in the smp, were qualities he saw as admirable. You remember your flushed cheeks over the praise, the warm feeling in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach.
But the thing you would never forget would be the look he gave you while you two were alone in his office. His eyes full of desire and passion, for you.
You stop your thought when you arrive at the podium. Schlatt is speaking with his vice-president, Quackity, with a topic you couldn’t quite hear well at the distance you were at. You waited for a few minutes until Schlatt let out an exasperated sigh and walked down the stage, coming to face you. “Ey (Y/N), I’ve been waiting for you my favorite cabinet member” he cackles.
You put a small smile on your face at his words. “That’s nice of you to say, but if I am your favorite then why is Big Q the Vice-President?” you joke, letting out a giggle. “If I were a spectator, I’d point out how it seems you favor him over me.” You continue.
You hear him let out a deep bawl of laughter, which eggs you on to continue your giggling. “Darling, if I didn’t have him as my Vice-President, I wouldn’t be leading Manburg now, would I?” he jested, gesturing into the air.
You let out a chuckle at his statement. “Well, what did you want to speak with me about?” you ask, staring at the horned man in front of you. He begins to compose himself and pats his attire down to make sure he looks presentable. “You remember of my plans for this great country, right?” he asks.
You nod in response. “Schlatt, of course I do, I am actively assisting in the affairs of the state or have you forgotten?” you tease.
“Yeah yeah, well I got some news from a little birdie that someone on my cabinet has been colluding with Pogtopia.” He deadpanned, a steely look on his features. “And I know just how to deal with that little mole.”
“Well, you know how I invited Technoblade to this festival, well I was thinking…why not have him kill our traitor. It’s appropriate! The best warrior of the rebellion striking down their own informant!” he declared, a wicked grin on his face.
“Who…is this mole anyway? I have a sneaking suspicion it is Fundy; his dear old dad is the exiled leader. Or perhaps it’s Niki, she and Wilbur are close.” You put out, gripping your chin in thought.
“Tubbo, the one I made my right-hand man.”
Your face pales, of course that Tubbo would come to the rebels’ aid. Tommy is his best friend; he was willing to do anything for the boy. And with knowing of what Schlatt’s plans are for the kid, you feel dread settle in. How could he think of something so gruesome for the boy?
“You, you can’t possibly be serious Schlatt?!” you shout, mouth agape in shock as your mind races. “He…Tubbo is just a child! You can’t do that to him!” you declare, looking up to glare at the man in front of you.
“And you think that absolves him of his betrayal to Manburg, to me, to US!” he retorted, bringing a hand up in anger to rake through his dark locks. “I know you care about the kid but c’mon, he’s a traitor! You can’t hold any love for him.” He added, before turning to leave and walk up the stage.
“This conversation isn’t over. You can’t walk away!” You grab his arm to stop him, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from him. He turns back around and raises your hand above your head.
“I can, and I will. I’m the president of Manburg. I am it’s ruler, it’s law, and I can do whatever the hell I want!” he shouted in your face. Your eyes widen, this was the first time you and he had ever gotten into an argument. You usually could temper the situation before it escalated, with you reluctantly agreeing into whatever he wanted.
You stare into his dark orbs. These eyes that you once loved, when they playfully glared at you, closed when you let out a joke, and gave a loving gaze whenever you helped in his plans. These eyes now something you feared. A deep darkness threatening to swallow you whole, consume your very essence and force you to submit to its darkest desires. These eyes that no calm you but induce a fear of being the next hurdle to be removed.
You recoil in panic, letting out a soft sob and stare down at the ground. Tears pool in the corner of your eyes as Schlatt let’s go of your wrist. “This is an order, (Y/N), stay in the white house for the rest of the festival. We’ll have a talk after all of this, resist, and I’ll give you a first-row seat to Tubbo’s execution. Got it?” he threatened, turning to walk up the stage. Leaving you to lean your back against the foundation. You let the tears spill out, like a dam finally being opened, your feelings flowed out. Each of your tears holding a fragment of the many emotions you felt. Panic, fear, anger, guilt, pain, betrayal.
“I can’t believe I used to love you…” you mutter out, pulling your knees into your chest and continued sobbing. The noise of the festivities blocking out your wailing.
A/N: I do hope this isn’t a bit too late. I’ve just been not feeling well these past few days. Like...not up to eat, I’m always tired, and not many things get me happy anymore. I dunno, maybe it’s just that seasonal down periods. Anyways, I’m still in the process of writing the headcanon requests but desperately wanted to get this out. Hope you enjoy!
#jschlatt x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt imagine#sugar softie's 600 follower special#dream smp x reader#ran.writes
180 notes
·
View notes
Text
mixtape | track fourteen
| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |
“Today’s lecture is on end of life. Death. Passing. However you want to refer to it, it’s about the process of a human being who was here, not being here anymore. And it’s particularly about your role in helping them go peacefully.”
Indy swallowed hard.
The wound was still fresh. It didn’t matter that it was May. Bekah’s funeral could have been just yesterday. She could see the wood grain of the podium she’d delivered the eulogy at in front of her if she closed her eyes for a few seconds too long.
Instead, she looked forward, found her professor in the front of the lecture hall. Dr. Ginn. A quirky woman, who seemed determined to live up to Indy’s first impression as she climbed onto her desk and sat with her clicker in her hand, legs criss-cross.
“Now. Doctors and death, they don’t mix. If I had to guess, a doctor’s worst fear is death. They spend their whole lives fighting it. But nurses? We’re different.”
Indy liked the sound of we.
“For us, the priorities shift. As nurses, your job is just as much to push epi as it is to hold someone’s hand. And you are the one that makes that call. You are the last comfort that a lot of people have in their lives. You are the backbone for the family, for the friends who are there to say goodbye. And you are there to make sure your patient goes as peacefully as they can. That is the most important part of your job, hands down. And if that’s not something you can see yourself doing, then you need to rethink and probably change your career.”
The hall was silent apart from the clicking of laptop keys.
“Now. On that lovely note, let’s get started. A code blue, or as I call it, an ‘oh shit’...”
A message notification appeared on the right corner of Indy’s screen as she opened her notes.
Coffee after class?
Indy smiled, and in lieu of listening for a moment, she let her mind wander back to February...
Grayson was really trying. But it was hard to break habits that he’d been so comfortable with since the first day that he met Indiana. It took so much mental effort to not hold her hand, to not brush her hair behind her ear - so much that Indy nudged him in the side as they walked.
“Where’d you go?”
“Sorry, just thinking.”
She had a good guess of what he was thinking about, or more specifically what he was waiting for.
An answer.
Indy could hear Nicole in her mind, telling her to be careful, to be careful with her heart. She thought of what her mother would say if she met Grayson as she walked beside him on the sidewalk. It kept her mind busy until they got to the familiar door that Grayson pulled open for her. If nothing else made sense, at least there was always Jet’s, with it’s comforting constant vanilla smell and that favorite blue chair that Indy beelined for while Gray went to the counter.
Patrick looked ready to commit murder when he realized who was ordering, but Indy shot him a smile from across the store that softened him up just enough for Grayson to make it out with their coffees unscathed.
“So he definitely hates my guts,” Gray mumbled as he sat down, making sure his back was to the bar.
“He’s a protective one, you know this,” Indy teased as she sipped her coffee.
“How soon did you start working here again after… after I left.”
“I gave myself a couple days. I definitely wasn’t at my peak on my first day if that’s what you’re asking.” She let out a dry chuckle.
“Did you start here or the hospital first?”
“Same time. The tech job kinda fell in my lap, and I needed the money for rent. I only really came back here so I could afford therapy. They have a benefits package for all their employees.”
Grayson froze, but his cup quivered in his hand as he shook.
“I… because of…”
“No, no no, not because of you. I mean, I did talk about the stuff going on with her cause we’ve been having sessions but I was planning on going since graduation. I wanted to get a handle on the whole flying thing.”
The reason went unspoken, and Grayson’s hands didn’t stop shaking, though his breathing came a bit easier.
“Is it going okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, haven’t really been on a plane to test anything out. But I did better than I thought I would when you were flying out, considering. So that’s a good sign. And my therapist is really nice, we’re a pretty good match.”
“Good. That’s good.” It wasn’t lost on him what it meant that she still cared that he was on a plane. Hope riled in his belly and he beat it back down as best he could.
There was a lull that was filled with the sounds of coffee beans grinding until Indy spoke up again.
“What have you been up to out in LA?”
Grayson swallowed. He looked at her quickly, her soft smile that made him feel like he could tell her anything, no matter how embarrassing it was.
“Honestly? I did fuck all. I mean, I did the basics I guess, with the companies and stuff. But I kinda let the misery have me. You did a hell of a lot better than me, that’s for damn sure.”
“I wasn’t doing great, believe me.”
“But at least you were trying,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “And I caused all this, I didn’t really have an excuse.”
“It’s in the past now. Nothing we can do to change it.”
“For the record, I wish I could. More than anything.”
“I know.”
“I really am sorry Dee. I know it’s not enough, but I am.”
“I know that too.”
The next beat of silence was painful, and it took a moment for Grayson to realize that it was now or never.
“Remember how bad our first date went? How I had that whole plan that just totally didn’t work?”
“The thunderstorm. I remember.” It made her smile, and she could picture every frame of it, from the ocean hallway to the remnants of apple juice on his lips.
“And I told you I was gonna save the real date for later.”
Indy nodded.
“Could we… can I do it now? Can I take you on a date?”
The thought brought butterflies to Indy’s stomach, but she blamed it on the coffee.
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll show you. Technically Jet’s was first on the list anyways, but the next part is a surprise.”
With that, she stood up and followed him out into the street.
They started their walk separate, but it only took a moment for Indy to grab onto Grayson’s hand. He told himself it was out of necessity so they didn’t get split up in a feeble attempt to keep his hopes from getting away from him. Still, his stomach fluttered high above the pavement as they enjoyed the setting sun and willfully ignored the chill of the wind whipping around the buildings of the city. Eventually, his plan unfolded when they reached the entrance of the Highline. It was one of Indy’s favorite places in the city, but she knew she’d never told Grayson that. He just knew her well enough it seemed.
They walked in peaceful silence for a while, hands squeezed tight against one another’s despite the lull in the foot traffic.
Indy smiled at their luck when they finally found an empty bench with a nice view of the skyline. She tugged Grayson over to it and kept her eyes forward for a moment before she looked over at him. His eyes were on the sky, skin flushed pink from the pigment on the clouds or the chill of the wind, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. He was beautiful, and he was hers if she wanted him.
Across the walkway, a young girl walked with her mom, who had a baby carrier strapped to her chest with a head of fuzzy hair just visible within it. The mom was rushing it seemed, and Indy realized the baby was crying loudly, sharp wails that became more audible as they passed by. The girl was dragging a small lion stuffed animal behind her, and Grayson watched as it slipped out of her hands and onto the concrete.
“Joey! Momma, momma I dropped Joey! Joey!” The girl cried out, but her mom continued to tug her along as she reached back for her lion.
Grayson was on his feet before Indy could say a word, jogging by and scooping up the small stuffed animal. He politely tapped the mother on the shoulder to get her to stop, then squatted down to the girl.
“Is this Joey?”
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she held her hand out for her toy. He passed it over slowly with a smile.
“Hold on tight to him okay?”
“Okay mister,” she said, voice high and quiet.
And right then, Indy saw everything she ever wanted. She saw her kids, with Grayson’s hair and Grayson’s eyes and Grayson’s laugh, she could see him carrying them up to bed, see him dancing with a little girl standing on his toes in their kitchen somewhere, see him passing her a little stuffed animal. She could see him in every facet of the future she hadn’t let herself imagine since he’d left, but her fantasies came rushing back so fast it felt like she was floating.
As if she could ever want anyone else.
She reached over for his hand as he walked back over, intertwining their fingers and letting him sit down before she finally spoke.
“I love this city. I love this city so much. It’s always been all I really needed.”
Grayson felt lightheaded as he prepared himself for what she was going to say.
“I know,” was all he could say.
Indy took a deep breath and turned towards Grayson with a soft smile. She could see the apprehension in his eyes as he waited for her to say something else.
“Did I tell you that Devin came to see me while you were gone?”
He shook his head.
“He came to check on me, since I wasn’t answering anyone.”
Grayson’s throat was tight as he pictured it in his head, the guilt overwhelming him. He reached over and squeezed her knee - a silent apology.
“He helped me figure out that I want to go into nursing, helped me get my head on straight.”
“He’s a smart guy,” Grayson said quietly.
“He told me I need to go for what I want. ‘Ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there’. That’s what he said. And I thought that’s what I was doing. I was going after a PhD, and my life in New York, and all these things I always wanted. Things I thought were really important. But they aren’t.”
He frowned. “Dee, your dreams are important.”
“I know, I know, and I’m not saying I’m giving up on that. I just mean my priorities I guess. I had them twisted, and I was missing the most important thing.”
She smiled his favorite smile as he tried to swallow.
He couldn’t make himself ask, just in case he was wrong, but she put him out of his misery after a moment.
“You. You’re the most important thing.”
She was suddenly blurry as his eyes filled with tears.
“I’ve never been good at change, but you’re worth it to me. If being with you means spending less time in New York, then it’s worth it. And I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like you weren’t.” She was crying too, and Grayson lifted his free hand to her cheek, wiping each tear with his thumb.
“Never. You never made me feel like that. I was the one that ran, because I never wanted you to feel like you ever had to give up anything for me.”
“Because you don’t realize that you’re worth giving things up for. You don’t realize how worth loving you are.”
He was fully crying now, a broken laugh making it’s way past his lips.
“Does that mean you still love me?”
She smiled.
“Never stopped.”
And she kissed him, and all was right in the world again for a moment. It didn’t matter that there were people walking by, and that their cheeks were wet from their tears. They were kissing and that meant that everything would be okay.
Any stranger that walked by surely had to feel the relief in the air when they pulled back and realized they could lean right back in without a single care in the world. He let go of her hand only to move it to her other cheek, to hold her steady there cradled in his palms as she kissed him between smiles - his whole world in his hands.
In that moment, he wanted more than anything to love her loud.
He pulled back just enough to bring her up to her feet and then his arms were wrapped around her waist, spinning her around until she was breathless and the city was a blur behind both their eyes. And for the first time that he could remember in too many years to count, he didn’t care who could hear him, and he didn’t care who was watching.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. I missed you.”
Being back in each other’s arms was as easy as breathing. She didn’t stray an inch from his side, soaking in the warmth of his body next to hers as they made their way down from the highline as the city started to light up. By the time they made it home her toes were numb from the cold but her cheeks were still warm, seeing that every time they had to wait for a crosswalk Grayson ducked down to kiss her again.
When they got to the lobby, Grayson squeezed her hand.
“I gotta get something out of the truck, I’ll be right back.”
“You want me to wait here or head on up?”
He pondered it for a minute.
“Wait for me.”
She nodded. She always waited for him, after all.
He disappeared out of the glass doors at a jog and Indy heard a chuckle from the side of the lobby. She looked over to see the receptionist smiling down at her computer. Indy prided herself on being a very low maintenance tenant, but she still smiled and waved to the woman behind the counter whenever she passed by. Her name tag read Cara in neat white letters.
“Sorry if we were loud,” Indy said sheepishly. Cara laughed.
“Just happy to see you smiling that’s all. I’m glad he’s back.”
Indy blushed bright red before she answered. “Yeah. Me too.”
Grayson was slightly winded when he came back, and he was grateful for the long elevator ride as he held the small gift bag in his hand. Indy pretended she didn’t see it like her mom had always taught her to when she received a gift. Still, her eyes flickered to it each time she knew she could get away with it, her curiosity getting the better of her.
When they finally got inside the apartment he led her over to the living room by the hand and passed her the bag.
“I didn’t know how today was going to go, but I wanted you to have this either way. Figured you could put it on your shelf. When you’re ready.”
Indy pulled the tissue paper out and saw the rose gold edge of a picture frame. She pulled it out and her breath caught in her throat.
“Oh.”
Bekah was smiling.
It warmed the whole image in a way that had Indy’s eyes burning as she tried to place the day. She was curled up on the bed next to Beks, but she wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, she was looking at the girl beside her. Her little sister in a way, who was tucked away under her halloween blanket.
“That’s the night we had the word search tournament, and you both schooled me,” Grayson explained quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist and squeezing at her hip under her sweatshirt. She remembered then, noticed the activity book in the corner of the picture.
“I didn’t even know you took this.”
“I know you like pictures, I meant to take more of you guys. But I like her smile in this one. Yours too.”
Indy sniffled and leaned her head back onto Grayson’s shoulder. “You’ve made me cry twice now you know.”
He kissed her temple and moved a hand to her forearm.
S-O-R-R-Y
He drew a heart afterwards, and even invisible on her skin she could tell it was lopsided. It made her smile, and she soaked in the feeling of him next to her for a moment before she spun around to kiss him.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips before pulling him in for a tight hug that had her up on her tiptoes when he wrapped her up. They held each other for a moment before Indy got an idea.
“I have something for you too. Wait here.”
Grayson kept his hands on her waist, thumbs rubbing over her skin underneath her sweatshirt.
“Stay,” he pouted.
“It’ll just take a second, I promise. Just wait here.”
She kissed him quickly just because she could and disappeared into the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her.
He lasted about 45 seconds before he was picking at his fingernails. Then he was taking a few steps towards the door, fighting the urge to stick his ear up to it to see if he could get a hint at what she was doing.
Another minute passed, and he felt like he was going to lose it.
“Indyyyy,” he whined. “You’re killin’ me babe.”
“You’re so dramatic oh my god it’s been like a minute tops.”
“One minute too long,” he teased just in hopes of making her laugh. It warmed his heart to hear it, even muffled through the door. It still felt like an eternity before she finally reappeared with her hands behind her back.
“You know, you didn’t need to get me anything. Having you back is more than I deserve already.”
Indy’s laugh was louder this time since she was right in front of him.
“Who knew a Jersey boy could be so damn sappy,” she teased. “I don’t have a frame or anything, but here.”
She pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to him quickly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while she waited for him to read it. It felt like an eternity while she watched his eyes scan over the letters, seemingly missing the UCLA logo in the top corner.
“Did you… are you reading? Did you see it?”
Grayson looked up with a smile and drew a circle in the air around his face.
“Dyslexic,” he reminded her gently.
She bit her lip and tried her hardest to be patient, waiting until his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Wait… wait. What is this? UCLA? Nursing?” He looked up at her cautiously, trying to keep his excitement in check in case he’d misread. “What is this?”
“Well. There’s a lot of good nursing programs out there. And LA has some top notch hospitals too. Especially pediatric ones. Figured it couldn’t hurt to apply, and they’ve got a pretty good tuition coverage package, it’s close to your house, and-”
Grayson’s lips were on hers, his excitement palpable.
She kissed him back with a smile, relieved to finally tell someone about the grand plan she’d made in her head now that all the pieces had come together.
“You’re sure?”
Indiana smiled. “You’re worth it. You’re what I want, forever.”
He kissed her again, making up for lost time and telling her everything he couldn’t find the words for. They walked backwards until the back of his legs hit the couch and she ended up crawling onto his lap, beaming down at him when they finally broke apart.
“You’re actually coming to LA. We’re gonna live there.”
“Guess I gotta start apartment shopping,” she mused.
Grayson rolled his eyes. “Shut up and c’mere.”
He bailed them to the side until Indy was fully on top of him.
“I’ll build you a shelf for our bedroom. Fuck, I’ll build you 50 shelves as soon as we get there. Wait when do classes start, when do you have to move?”
“You’re cute when you’re excited,” she hummed, leaning down to kiss him again. It was slow and purposeful, warm in that familiar way as they remembered each other fully. “We’ll figure it all out,” Indy said eventually, scooting down his torso until her head could rest comfortably on his chest. She listened to his heart beat, a bit fast from either her presence or the coffee, she couldn’t tell. Either way, it was still her favorite sound, and as his hand moved through her hair gently, she knew she’d made the right choice, no matter where it took her.
3 months later, the place it took her was the passenger seat of Grayson’s brand new tesla, which was delightfully cool despite the warmth of the incoming summer making the LA air dry and warm. Grayson held out a hand for her to pass her backpack, tossing it into the backseat as if it wasn’t weighed down with three textbooks. She pulled the door closed behind her and let her head rest back against the seat for a moment before she turned to him.
“Hi.”
He beamed, leaning over the console to give her a quick kiss. “Hey. Good day?”
“Long day, but yeah, it was fine. Got a shit ton of assignments per usual.”
“Hey, three day weekend next week though, and we’re going to New York. What’d you learn?”
“Oh you know, the usual. Meds, codes, diseases, death. Truly uplifting stuff.”
He reached his hand over to her thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb as his other hand moved the wheel effortlessly, pulling back out onto the road.
“Still want coffee? You didn’t answer.”
“Do I ever say no to coffee?”
“Fair points. Text E squared and see if they want anything.”
“They weren’t home?”
“No, they ran to the store, but they should be back by the time we get there.”
“If Eden went to Target without me I’m gonna be pissed,” Indy mumbled halfheartedly, typing out the text in their group chat quickly. “You know she’s gonna say she wants Jet’s.”
“Believe me I know, just ask Ethan. You’ve created a monster. We’ve gotta start asking Patrick to send beans in bulk or something, we go through them so fast now that she drinks it too.”
Indy just laughed and turned up the radio, unsurprised to hear Cudi from Grayson’s playlist he’d made for their car rides. It was routine now for him to pick her up from class, save her from the hassle of trying to find parking on campus. And it gave them some more alone time considering they lived with Ethan and Eden at the house. So, it wasn’t abnormal for Grayson to happily add 20 minutes to the drive to pick up coffee on the way home. Purdy’s was right down the street after all, and though their lattes weren’t quite as perfect as Jet’s, they held their own.
“We should buy Patrick some fancy beans somewhere and take them with us next weekend,” Grayson mused.
“You’re such a suck up, it’s not like he’s giving us free coffee,” Indy laughed. “You’re just still scared of him.”
“Fuck yeah I am! Every time we’ve gone home he looks like he wants to straight up murder me.”
She reached over to hold his cheek for a moment as she bit back her laugh.
“Baby. Patrick can barely lift a 50 pound box of syrup. Believe it or not, I think you could take him.”
He rolled his eyes but the comment wasn’t lost on his ego, especially when his girl leaned over to wrap her arm around his bicep and rest her cheek on it, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin left behind by his tank top. They ordered through the drive thru, surprised when neither Eden or Ethan responded to them. The car was peaceful, even more so when Grayson put it on autopilot and gave Indy more of his attention, trying to ease the stress he could feel coming off of her like it always did when she got out of class.
“Tell me about your lecture,” he said, hoping talking it through would help her.
She sipped on her coffee as she spoke, starting without many details but eventually going more in depth as she got more excited. It was one of Grayson’s favorite parts of listening to her talk about the things she cared about, and even though half of the information went right over his head he listened intently anyways, tried to take it all in as the car drove them home.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Indy’s coffee was gone along with her stress, and Grayson knew all the steps to running a code blue. He hopped out first, grabbing her bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder as they headed to the front door.
The first sign that something was different was the quiet of the house. Any other time that E squared was left alone, Grayson and Indy would come back to the speakers blaring, a scary movie on the living room TV, or the distant sound of a headboard knocking against the wall.
But it was dead silent, and the pair looked at each other before they scanned the room.
“They’re up to something,” Indy muttered, peaking around the wall to make sure Ethan wasn’t going to scare them.
“For sure. Something is off with Ethan, just don’t know what it is.”
“Oh, you got a feeling huh?” Indy teased, bumping him with her elbow. He took her waist in his hands and pulled her back against him, making her laugh as he tickled her and buried his face in her neck. He never got tired of having her so close - it was just as intoxicating as the first time.
“Sorry you don’t understand the twin connection.”
“Well, use your psychic powers to figure out where the fuck they are then.”
He closed his eyes for dramatic effect, smiling when it got the laugh he wanted out of her. Just as he lifted his fingers to his temple, a bang sounded from the backdoor, making Indy squeal and cling onto Grayson. He went to move her behind him until he saw the culprit - a tennis ball bouncing away across the yard.
“You’re okay, it’s just E,” Grayson breathed, relaxing and moving towards the door to find where his brother was hiding. They walked into the backyard hand in hand, following the sound of music coming from the pool, which was finally finished in the back corner of the property.
Ethan was at the entrance, his biggest smile on his face as he waited for them to get closer. Impatient as ever, he started walking towards them, meeting them halfway across the grass.
“Took you guys long enough to get home. We bought new stuff for the pool, come look at it.”
“E, bro, I told you not to buy random shit on your own,” Grayson grumbled, obviously weary of his brother’s interior design skills.
“Eden was with him,” Indy reminded him at a whisper.
“Just come on,” Ethan said, grabbing onto his brother’s hand and starting to drag him towards the pool.
“Jesus bro, calm down.”
Ethan ignored him, looking to make sure Grayson was bringing Indy along too until they made it around the corner where the small pool was in view.
“Surprise!” Ethan beamed, holding his hand out towards the water. Beside it on the concrete were some new additions.
Four loungers, a beautiful teal color with rounded contour that looked perfect for tanning. In fact, Eden was on one of them sprawled out in her bathing suit, and she looked so comfortable that Indy barely noticed the miniature fifth chair next to her at the end of the line up.
Brain fried from class, it took Indy a moment to piece it together.
5 chairs. 4 people. One smaller than the rest.
“No way,” she gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Eden no way!”
Indy was already moving towards her best friend before she could get to her feet, ignoring Grayson’s confused calls of “what? huh?” from behind her.
“Yes way,” Eden sniffled, a nervous laugh coming through as she put a hand over her stomach.
“How far along? When did you find out?”
“A couple days ago, we went to the doctor to find out for sure this morning. She said we’re about 7 weeks.”
Indy pulled her in for a hug.
“Wait. Wait.” Grayson was yelling now, catching on with no doubt a few hints from Ethan. “Holy fuck. Holy fuck, you’re pregnant?! She’s PREGNANT?!” He grabbed his brother’s face with both hands and shook him just barely.
“I’m gonna be a fucking dad,” Ethan said, and Indy melted when she realized he was about to cry.
“You’re gonna be a fucking dad,” Grayson repeated, shaking him twice more before he pulled him in for the tightest hug Indy had ever seen them share. The girls watched them for a moment before Indy turned her attention back to Eden.
“How are you feeling with all this?”
“Well I’ve just started having morning sickness, my appetite has been super weird, vegan cheese makes me want to straight up die…”
“Right right, but I mean like… mentally. You okay? This is a big change.”
Even just standing there, the boy's excitement was slightly overwhelming, especially with Grayson literally running around yelling about being an uncle. She was sure that Ethan had been excited from the moment of a positive test.
“A very big change that we weren’t really expecting,” Eden said quietly, looking down at her manicured toes.
“How are you feeling about it?” Indy asked again, reaching out to hold her hand. Eden squeezed tightly.
“Honestly? I’m fucking terrified,” she admitted. “And Ethan’s been great, it’s not that, it’s just… there’s a human in me. Right now. Just chillin’ in there.”
“Yep, there do be a human in there,” Indy laughed at her bluntness. “What are you scared about?”
“Everything. I’m afraid I’m gonna do something that’s gonna hurt them. I don’t know shit about pregnancy, like real pregnancy, and don’t even get me started on trying to push this thing out of me.”
“We’ve got a while to figure all that out. And you aren’t going to do anything that’s going to hurt them. You’re a good mom.”
“Jesus, a mom. Ethan keeps saying that but it sounds different coming from a woman. A fucking mom. You’re gonna have to teach me all the medical stuff… wait actually no I don’t think I even want to know what’s going on in there. I’ll just focus on figuring out how the fuck I’m gonna be a mom.”
“You’ll be great. And you’ll have Ethan too. Those two were pretty much born to be dads,” Indy said. They turned and looked to see Grayson hauling Ethan up to sit on his shoulders before running what she assumed was a victory lap around the backyard.
“Yeah… remind me of that for the next nine months. Regularly.”
They both started laughing and pulled in for another hug.
“I’m so happy for you,” Indy sighed with the warmest smile, images of baby showers and Eden’s bump and the office as a nursery already spinning through her mind.
“Love you aunt… Indiana? Indy?”
Indy scrunched her nose. “We’ll have to work on that one,” she teased, taking her hand and leading her over to their boys, who were still somehow yelling.
They both came running, but Grayson was faster, scooping Eden up and spinning her around so fast that Ethan was immediately scolding him, urging him to be careful.
“She’s not that delicate bub, it’s okay,” Indy reassured him, getting up on her tiptoes to give Ethan a hug. He squeezed her tight and whispered in her ear.
“She okay? You guys are the first ones we’ve told.”
“Just a little scared, like all pregnant people are. Totally normal.”
“Good. I’m glad you know, she’s been dying to tell a girl. Only so much I can do.”
She leaned back with a smile. “You’re doing great already.”
Those words meant more to Ethan than she would ever know, but all he could do was smile and head back over to Eden, a hand across her tummy when she leaned up against his side.
“We’re gonna tell Li when we’re all home next weekend, but Eden’s parents are coming over for dinner in a little while and we’re gonna tell them now so we can do it in person,” Ethan explained, pressing a kiss to Eden’s hair.
“We’ll make ourselves scarce for the evening,” Indy offered, sensing the nerves already rising for Eden. She’d have enough of an audience.
“Okay but first we gotta get a picture of everybody, we’re gonna make an album of telling everybody.” Ethan was already moving as he spoke, setting his phone up on the patio table with the timer on. They all posed with Ethan pointing excitedly to Eden’s non-existent bump before they all headed back inside, still buzzing with excitement.
Grayson stayed particularly close as they gathered around the island, his hand resting on Indy’s hip as they all settled after a few moments. They all helped to straighten up the house in preparation for Eden’s family’s arrival, and Grayson appeared behind Indiana with a smile as she placed a blanket over the back of the couch.
“Date night?”
Indy had lost count of how many dates they’d been on, but those words never failed to make her stomach swirl.
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Well, I know you said you have homework so… Monty’s, secret beach… with flashcards?”
“You truly know the way to my heart.” She kissed him softly and followed him to their room to change into beach clothes. As she sifted through the drawers, she couldn’t help but look at the shelf. It was bigger than the one she’d had in New York, more sturdy with thicker wood and longer, able to hold more frames.
That was a good thing, because there had been some new additions. The picture of Nicole, the baby picture of her and Charlie, and the engagement picture with them and Devin all stood tall beside each other. Down the line came the picture of Indy and Grayson at her graduation, the one where he was dipping her back slightly and wearing her cap. Then was Bekah in her hospital bed - it still made Indy’s chest tight when she looked at it. There were two new ones since then - one of the four of them taken by Lisa in front of their tiny homes, and another of all of them at thanksgiving that they’d finally gotten printed.
“We need to get that picture we just took from Ethan, I wanna put it on the shelf.”
“I’m gonna have to build you another shelf,” he teased as he pulled his swim trunks up.
“Think you’ll probably be building stuff for the nursery first.”
“Shut up, do you really think they’ll let me?” His eyes lit up and Indy laughed as she pulled her New York sweatshirt down over her bikini top.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Fuck yeah, that’s gonna be so much fun! What all do you need in a nursery though? I mean a crib, obviously. A dresser? Do you need a dresser for baby clothes or can you just stack them up cause they’re so tiny?”
“We can talk about it while we drive,” Indy redirected him, taking his hand and leading him out of their room, down the hall and out to the car before he could bombard the other couple of the house with questions.
The excitement was palpable for the whole drive, buzzing within the cab as they made their way to Monty’s, ordered their vegan burgers and raspberry lemonades and snuck away to their secret place on the beach.
Considering it was a Wednesday evening, they didn’t expect it to be busy, but they were particularly excited to see that it was completely empty apart from a few stray crabs that went scurrying away at the sound of their footsteps.
Grayson set out the blanket that was always in the back of the tesla for trips like this and Indy set down their bags and drinks, getting everything settled so they could simply sit down and enjoy their meal.
It was peaceful, calm as the ocean lapped up against the sand gently and they filled their tummies. Grayson was done before Indy, per usual, and he basked in the last remnants of the sun while she finished her fries.
“Wanna swim?” Indy asked.
“Thought we were supposed to wait 30 minutes.”
“That’s a myth,” she teased, standing up to her feet and helping him to his. They walked down to the water quickly, gasping a bit at the cold of the water. Still, there was nothing that compared to the feeling of being in the waves, and Indy braved it. Grayson had every muscle tensed against the cold, but he’d follow her anywhere. Soon enough they were up to shoulder height water, kicking gently to get over the waves when they needed to, arms wrapped around each other to keep warm.
“I can’t believe they’re gonna have a kid. Were gonna be Aunt Dee and Uncle Grayson. What the fuck,” Grayson murmured, half distracted by the way the orange of the sky was starting to reflect off of Indy’s eyes.
“It’s gonna be so much fun to have a little one around. They’re gonna be such good parents.”
“You know who would be even better parents? Us,” he beamed. He looked so beautiful when he smiled, and Indy ran her thumb along his jaw.
“Let me finish school and find a job before you go putting a baby in me,” Indy laughed, but her heart warmed at the thought. She remembered the little girl on the highline, and she wanted it for the two of them.
“You’re done in like a year and a half.”
“Correct,” Indy confirmed it.
“I always thought I’d be married before I had a kid,” Grayson said, trying to bite back his excitement.
She wasn’t sure if it was the bliss of the water around them, or the steadiness of his arms, or the fact that she always felt like she was home when she was with him, but in that moment, she knew.
“Okay. Then let’s get married.”
“Are you serious? You aren’t fucking with me? You really wanna get married?”
“Did I ever give you the impression that I didn’t want to marry you someday?” She teased.
Grayson could only laugh, and look up towards the skies and thank whatever angels were listening and watching for all that he’d been given.
He was pretty sure he knew at least three that were there with him.
“I love you. I love you so fucking much. Don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
Indy kissed him. The feeling was mutual in the most effortless way, and there was a sense of peace that she wasn’t used to in that moment, knowing that everything would somehow work itself out and she would have him with her for the rest of her life.
And for once, the timeline of her life wasn’t her priority anymore. She didn’t care what date she’d finish school, or when she’d get her job. And she didn’t care when he would propose, or when they’d find out they were having a child of their own. Because in all those moments, whenever they happened, he would be there, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.
They kissed slow, quiet for a while, and as the sun dipped below the horizon Grayson carried her back out onto the sand. They wrapped themselves up in the same towel and found each other’s lips again, warm and familiar and safe as they lost themselves within one another over and over again.
Her lips were chapped by the time they pulled away, both giddy at the realizations that they’d always know finally being said out loud.
“How much homework do you have?”
“Just studying, I can do it in the morning. What’s the plan?” She knew he wouldn’t have asked if there wasn’t something he wanted to do.
“I’ll show you. Just trust me.”
“Okay,” she answered without a second thought.
Twenty minutes later, with salty hair and big smiles, they pulled up to a tattoo parlor.
“I thought you got all yours from Alexis now?”
“Gotta get this one tonight. Special day.”
Indy looked at the neon signs, and the artwork on the walls through the window. She pondered it for a minute, and something in her told her to go for it.
“I think I’m gonna get one too.”
Grayson perked up at that. “Really?” He knew every inch of her body, knew it would be her first one.
“Something small. Something for Beks.”
He smiled and kissed her temple before he got out to open her door.
Indy went first. A small lightning bolt, like the one on Bekah’s headscarf. And, the thunderstorm of their first date in the city. She got it tucked away behind her ear, in the same place of Grayson’s triple threes. His angel number, and her reminder of both of hers. It didn’t hurt as badly as she thought it would, but Grayson sat beside her anyways, rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand while he held it.
D-O-I-N-G G-O-O-D he wrote.
“Thanks,” she smiled softly. “Bet you won’t even flinch during yours.”
“That's the idea. You can study while I get mine, I want it to be a surprise.”
Hers only took a few minutes, and her lecture material was at the back of her mind once the artist cleaned her up and moved over the Grayson. He grabbed his wallet from her backpack where he’d stowed it and Indy took a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, occasionally turning her head towards the mirror so she could see her new ink.
Across the shop, Grayson took his shirt off.
“You can pull the letters from these, and I want it right here.” He passed over the stack of flashcards he’d snagged, sure that they’d be able to find what they needed.
“Bitch of a spot,” the artist said quietly as he prepped over his ribs, but he just laughed. From the view of Grayson’s covered legs, he wasn’t sure there was any spot too painful for him.
“She’s worth it,” Grayson said, closing his eyes and waiting. The sting of the needle was familiar, and it did hurt as he moved over each bone. But when he looked in the mirror, it was all worth it. He didn’t even bother putting his shirt on as he paid the artist in cash, including a big tip, and headed out to the lobby.
Indy was sifting through her bag.
“Looking for these?” Grayson held up a small stack of flashcards with a devious grin. “Sorry, had to borrow them for my tat.”
Indy’s brows furrowed, and she stood up, moving closer as he lifted his arm and showed her his ribcage.
In small handwriting, her handwriting, was the word ‘forever’.
“Right where you always trace it.”
To her surprise, her eyes started to burn.
“Gray…” She knew how important his tattoos were to him, what each and every one of them meant.
“Consider it a promise. I’m with you. Forever.”
He ducked down to kiss her, and she smiled against him, hand resting on his torso right below his promise.
She liked the sound of forever.
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
off the table (steve rogers x reader)
warning: very angsty, fluff and a little smut but nothing too graphic. ALSO ENDGAME SPOLIERS!!
a/n: based on a request i got from @buckythetinman for the song “off the table” by ariana grande!! i loveeeee this song. 🤍✨🥺
this was supposed to be a blurb but i turned out to be superrrr long so i’m sorry for that and i’m also sorry for any spelling mistakes! i got a little confused with the time travel stuff but it’s okay i think.
—————————————————
Will I ever love the same way again? (Way again)
Will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?
despite how happy steve seemed in the present day, finally adjusted with your help, you knew deep down he still wished to go back and know what could’ve been. what life would be like with his beloved peggy carter. so when the topic of time travel was brought up, you didn’t know whether to be excited or worried.
when the big “time heist” began you were teamed with the others to go back to 2012 to find the tesseract. but that mission went south very quickly and it was suggested that steve and tony go even father back to 1970. you and scott shared your doubts of the new plan, warning them that they didn’t have enough particles to come back after that. but they went anyway, and when they came back, you were relieved but you noticed steve was acting different. it was like he was stuck in a daze after that and you were worried that he’d seen something he maybe shouldn’t have. your suspicions were proven correct when you caught him looking at his compass. something you hadn't seen since you first started dating.
Never thought you'd be so damn hard to replace
I swear it don't need to be this way
the fight with thanos and his army had taken a big toll on you. physically, mentally and emotionally. bruises littered your whole body but the most pain you felt was in your heart. you tried to accept both natasha and tony’s deaths and be grateful for all the people that were alive because of them. but you just couldn’t. the first few nights after tony’s funeral, steve held you in bed as you cried. he helped you shower and encouraged you to eat when you couldn’t bring yourself to. and you tried your best to help him through the grieving process too, despite how helpless you felt. he refused it most of the time but was grateful nonetheless. and after you cried yourself to sleep, he would pull his compass out of the bedside drawer and look at the picture of peggy, and sighed at the thought of seeing her again. but then he would feel you nuzzling into his side, looking calmer than you’d had in days, and his heart sank at the thought of leaving you so vulnerable. would it be worth it?
you noticed the way he was pulling away from you. first he started staying in tonys basement lab late nights with bruce. he felt bad coming back to your shared room and seeing you in the same position you were in from when he left you that morning. but he was doing what he thought was right. he was hoping that not being close to you now, would make it not hurt so bad when he left.
this continued for a while. he started to think you’d die of starvation so he asked wanda to take you food, to which she said “you’re her boyfriend. this is supposed to be your job.” he brushed her off with an “i’ve been busy.” she took it upon herself to look in his head to see exactly what he was so busy with that he couldn’t look after his girl. and she was shocked to see a daydream of him going back in time and being reunited and happy with another woman, to which she recognized as margaret carter.
If I can't have you, is love completely off the table?
Do I sit this one out and wait for the next life? (Next life)
he missed you before he even left. the night before he was set to take the stones back it all hit him at once. how you’d been there for him through so much, and now he was leaving you? he tried justifying it by thinking you’d want him to be happy. but what about your happiness?
that evening he was determined to show you how much you meant to him, how much he loved you. he went into your room and saw that you weren’t in bed. he panicked for a second until he heard the shower running. he was proud of you for getting out of bed to freshen up, but remembered how he had been no help in it. he sat on the bed you two had been sharing and waited for you to come out. and when you did he felt his heart flutter and break at the same time. you were wearing one of his shirts, which he never got tired of seeing you in. but after taking in the rest of your appearance more clearly, he almost gasped. you looked so much more thinner than he last recalled, clearly a sign you still had yet to eat a proper meal. your eyes were puffy and skin looked dull.
he didn’t hesitate to stand up and engulf you in one of the tightest hugs he’d ever given. it surprised you at first and you couldn’t help but sob as you held him. you missed this. steve held back tears as he let out a sad “i love you so much y/n. i’m so sorry i haven’t been there for you.”
that night, he made love to you like it was the first time again. his showed how sorry he was by kissing every inch of your weak body and never going a minute without telling you how much he adored you. after hours of passion, steve held you in his arms and watched as you slept, trying to memorize every single one of your features. he pulled you close one last time and whispered to your sleeping body. “maybe we’d have our happy ending in another life, y/n. i just don’t think it’ll be this one.”
Am I too cold? Am I not nice?
Might not be quite yet healed already
Should I be goin' too steady? (Too steady)
But I just wanna know is love completеly off the table?
the next morning, you woke up in the arms of your boyfriend. and for the first time in a long time, you felt that things were turning up. you turned to see him already awake, though it looked like he had been crying. you reached up to hold his face in your hands. “what’s wrong stevie?” you asked, tiredly. he rubbed a hand up and and down your waist and exhaled. “i just love you so much baby.” he said. you wrapped yourself around him and ran your hands through his silky blonde hair. “i love you too” you giggled and he felt his heart swell. you pulled away just enough to see his face. he opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. you nodded, encouraging him to go on. “i uh..” he started, “i have to take the stones back today.”
you tensed under his hold and he felt it. “how long will you be gone?” you wondered aloud. steve let out a small sigh and didn’t answer right away, because truth be told, he didn’t even know. what would be days on the mission for him could possibly be only a few minutes for you or vice versa. it had been discussed with him that he’d have to go back to 1970 and was aware of the fact that he’d risk seeing peggy again. so he just gave the only answer he felt he could give. “i don’t know...not long.”
I'll wait for you
Even though it always feels like I'll be number two
To someone you can't hold anymore
If you let me in, I'm ready to give you what I couldn't before
before you knew it, you were standing next to the podium and watched as bruce prepared the machine for steve to leave. you already accepted the thought of him not coming back before he even went through. and even though it pained you, there’s nothing you wanted more than for him to be happy, even if that meant him leaving you for someone else. he didn’t have to tell you, or explain what he was really going to do. you were always good at reading him, which is one of the things he loves most about you. but you guessed it wasn’t enough for him to stay.
so as you wished him luck, you gave him a knowing glance. a look of guilt washed over him as he mouthed a small “i love you”. and then he was gone.
'Cause I got you, girl, let me help you through it
You're trying to fill the void with a couple boys
I can see right through it (You can see right through it)
steve had told bucky what he was going to do. and he was furious. he’d grown close to you in the short years you’d known each other and it was safe to say he was very protective of you. he refused to let steve leave you, especially after all the loss you’d been through recently. but again, his heart was set. he knew bucky would take care of you. and that’s exactly what happened when steve was taking longer to come back than he should’ve.
you guess you hadn’t accepted his departure after all, cause in the midst of sam and bruce’s panic, you fell to your knees in a sob. clutching your chest as tears streamed down your face, bucky was quick to hug you. he didn’t say anything because really...what could he?
I can love you harder than I did before
Was in a dark place back then
I was toxic, then I was toxic to someone else
I was haunted by the hills (Oh yeah, yeah)
I couldn't give you my all, but I will
If you let me in your arms (Your arms)
If you let me in your heart
I don't think that love's completely off the table
steve regretted leaving. he thought this was what he wanted. when he went back and saw peggy again, he felt his heart pounding, but he thinks that it was just out of nerves. after their reunion, peggy took them home and they shared their dance as he promised they would before he went into the ice. but something was off.
dancing with her almost felt wrong. her body didn’t fit as perfectly with his as he’d imagined. he brushed it off again as nerves but the longer the evening went with her, the more doubts crept up on him and he started to worry if this was all a mistake. peggy felt it too. she asked him about the future, how his life was like and what he’d experienced. he told her about saving bucky, the avengers and even going to space. without even noticing, he’d began talking about you. “who’s y/n?” she asked him. he registered what he had said and paused. “she’s uh- she’s a good friend.” she noted the dull glimmer in his eyes whenever he’d speak of this “y/n” but never brought it up. she didn’t want to spoil her second chance with him.
but overtime it seemed to spoil itself. steve and peggy seemed to have little in common, which often led to disagreements. another thing he began to notice overtime was how much he missed little things about the future. modern technology, the internet and most importantly, you.
how could he have left? you were happy together, had so much in common despite being born in two separate time periods. he understood your feelings and you understood his and he missed everything about you. he thought going back to his past would have been exciting and amazing but nothing was exciting without you next to him.
I don't think that love's completely off the table
he needed to come home to you.
he remembered about dr.pym’s lab and knew that with what he’d learned with tony and bruce, he could maybe manage to pull it off. steve didn’t care how long it would take. he just wanted you in his arms again.
Will you be there? (Yes, I will be there for you)
Can I still love you? (Yes, I been hurt before, before)
Not yet healed or ready (Not ready)
Should I be goin' too steady? (Too steady, no, no)
Just wanna know is love completely off the table?
of course there was still uncertainty while he worked through his plan. would you take him back? what if you’d moved on in the time he was gone? did you still love him? he hoped you were okay at least, that you found a way to be happy while he was gone. he explained to peggy what he wished to do and although she was upset to have him leave again, she couldn’t bring herself to stop him.
it took him three months to work it out along with the help of howard stark. and with a new determination, steve was excited to see you. standing on the platform, he pulled out his compass and opened it to look at a picture of you that had replaced peggy’s and gave a sad smile. “i’m coming home” he whispered.
So can you hold me?
If I let you, can you prove it to me? (Oh, no-no, no)
when steve returned to the present, he found the area surrounding the machine empty. everything was quiet save for the whirring the platform settling down. it didn’t look too different to when he had left but long enough for him to see the difference in the greenery. the trees looked taller and the grass that surrounded the area was longer, so he could only assume it had been quite some time for you. looking around the outside of the cabin, he found a way inside and managed to find the keys to one of tony’s cars. his drive back to the city went by in a blur, his mind too caught up in thinking of you. he was relieved to arrive at the compound and see it hadn’t changed much. there were still agents training outside and people coming in and out of the building. parking the car right in front, he took a deep breath and marched right inside, paying no attention to the people’s shocked faces and whispered, obviously bewildered to see the captain back after they learned he had gone back to the past. not wanting to wait for the elevators, he decided to take the stairs, wasting no time in going towards the residential floor you all had called home. in the midst of his quick actions, he almost didn’t hear a voice that was calling his name.
“steve?”
he turned to see bucky. confusion etched on his face. his hair was the first thing steve noticed, it was way shorter than before. he was snapped out of it when he remembered his mission to find you
“bucky! y/n. where’s y/n?” steve questioned. steve was glad to see his face, but bucky couldn’t say the same for himself. bucky didn’t know how to feel after seeing his friend. what the hell was he doing here?
“bucky please i need to see her!!” steve pleaded and as much as bucky wished it were that simple, he knew it wasn’t. it had been almost a year for them of being without steve and in that time bucky had helped to piece your life back together. you still had your bad days but he was still proud to say that with his help you were finally getting over him. he didn’t want all that time and effort to go down the drain if you saw steve, only to have him leave again. bucky shared his worries with him while steve continued pleading for you.
“bucky i SWEAR. i know it was a mistake but i promise i’m not leaving. i miss her buck just please i need her back!” steve professed. when bucky opened his mouth to object again he was interrupted by your voice as you walked out to the stairwell. “bucky? you okay? i heard some yelli-“ you froze. both men looked at you with wide eyes.
'Cause I need you to calm me down, babe
Gotta get out of my head (Oh, woah)
Tryna be here from this bed (Oh)
Just wanna know, just wanna know, know, know, baby (Hey)
steve was the first to speak. “hey n/n.” he said carefully, he could see the fear in your face and didn’t want to scare you away. he took a step towards you and that’s when you snapped out of your daze. you took in a sharp breath and a step back. there’s no way, you thought. you were imagining things. he wasn’t here. this wasn’t real. but then he reached and held your hand and the familiar warmth he gave off was enough to confirm the reality. it really was him. you let out a shaky breath and felt a tear run down your face. steve couldn’t take the wait anymore and pulled you tight against his body, you melting into him almost immediately. the smell was enough to make you choke on your tears.
“what are you doing here?” you asked him.
he gave a small teary smile. “told you i’d come back didn’t i?”
Can you touch it like you believe in it, baby? (Oh, hey)
Let me think you never gonna leave on me, baby
'Cause I ain't her and you ain't him, thankfully (Baby, don't leave)
But it's gon' be hard to let someone else in again (Woah)
Baby, baby (Woo-hoo)
steve was surprised that you had forgiven him so soon but you just couldn’t help it. he was back and you couldn’t be upset at him when he told you he’d never leave again. after all, he always kept his word one way of another. bucky left you two alone and you lead steve to the common room to catch up and figure out what would happen next. because looking back, steve left you for another woman and although you were grateful for his return, you didn’t know if continuing your relationship was the best option.
“steve how can i believe you? how do i know that you won’t think that this is a mistake and leave me again.” you confessed, sitting across from him.
Will you be there? (Will you be there? I'll still wait)
Can I still love you? (I'll still wait for you, babe, oh, no-no, no, can I still love you?)
Not yet healed or ready (Ooh, not ready)
Should I be goin' too steady? (No, no, ooh)
Just wanna know is love completely off the table, baby?
“i understand y/n.” he said. “and trust me when i say this doll, i’ll wait until you’re ready. and i’ll do everything i can to prove to you how sorry i am. i was so stupid for leaving but now i’m here and i can’t life a happy life unless you’re in it. i love you. i just want to know that this isn’t over.”
you put a hand on his cheek.
“trust me. it’s far from over.” you smiled at him.
I swear, I swear
I will wait for you whenever you need
Ooh, ooh
—————————————————
omg i’m so sorry this is so long i got way ahead of my self. but i hope you enjoyed!!
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers#chris evans x reader#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#little marvel baby fic
178 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can i ask for an emergency bnha request? Maybe main 3 with an S/O who’s hiding their grief (lost my grandma and 2 tios in a month) and she doesn’t want to seem weak or burden so she just shuts down during the day and breaks down at night in the dorm, until something reminds her of them so she starts tearing up during class and the boys confront her after?
A/N: I am sorry for your loss. If you need anyone to talk to, know that I’ll be here for you. I can’t imagine how you feel, but I do know that sometimes, letting things out is the best way to deal with your feelings. So please, don’t lock away your feelings, I promise that things will get better
Midoriya Izuku
If anyone could read you like an open book, it’d be Izuku. Not because you’re an extremely open person who wears their heart on their sleeve, but simply because he cares about you so much that he’s taken the time to learn about you, and now knows you like the back of his hand
So, when you walk into class one morning, he notices immediately that something is off. Not only do you not smile as you walk in, but you also don’t make any move to go and talk to your friends, instead opting to just sit at your desk. Your behavior worries him, at the very least, but he doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, as by the time he’s made up his mind, Aizawa is already taken his spot behind the lecture podium, telling them all to pay attention
Later, when he asks you if you’re alright, you simply shrug him off, telling him that you’re fine, you just don’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment
That immediately puts him into panic mode. There’s probably a million thoughts rushing through his mind, wondering whether he was being too annoying, if there was something that he’d done to make you upset, if there was anything important that he missed. It honestly throws him into a loop, and for the rest of the day, he tries to figure out why you you seem so different
Izuku is always a ball of anxiety, always overthinking, overanalyzing, and your relationship wasn’t exempt from this. He always wondered whether or not he was a good boyfriend, if he was enough for you. So, when you started slowly pulling away, he couldn’t help but think the worst. He almost automatically assumed that you were tired of him, or, even worse, he had somehow messed up along the way, and made you upset without even knowing
While he was going on several different tangents, you were holed up in your room, doing your best to conceal your sobs. In just one month, the world had taken three family members away from you. Every day you’d do your best to maintain a calm facade, not allowing anyone to see you at your worst moment
Since you didn’t want to bother anyone with your issues, you kept them close to your heart. In the daytime you’d keep to yourself, focusing solely on your work, though you didn’t really get much done. In the night, you would cry yourself to sleep, doing your best to keep your sobs as silent as possible. However, once you were finally asleep, you’d dream of those who you lost, and then wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down your face, and soon enough, the cycle would start over. It was safe to say that you didn’t get much sleep anymore
Your lack of sleep didn’t go unnoticed by Izuku. Once he saw the seemingly permanent dark circles under your eyes, it threw him into an even greater panic. Why weren’t you sleeping? Was it because of the upcoming midterms? Stress of being a hero in training? What was it? He desperately wanted to reach out to you and comfort you, but his fear of being rejected stopped him
Eventually, though, when you started tearing up in class, looking as if you were about to lose it, Izuku finally steeled his nerves and gently asked what was wrong
At first, you tried to deny that there was anything wrong, it was just simply the stress of school catching up to you. However, after a few more minutes of his gentle pressing, you finally caved, no longer able to hold back your tears. As soon as they left your eyes, Izuku panicked. He tried to reassure you that everything was alright, that he was sorry for pushing too much
In all honesty, he probably cried with you as well, since he’s a sympathetic crier
So, the two of you were just sitting in the middle of class, your classmates long gone, just sobbing as you held each other close, almost as though the other would disappear if you let go. After a few more minutes of tearful sobs, you finally told him what was going on, how you lost some of your family in such a short amount of time
Though he’s never really had anyone important to him die, and he may not be able to understand what you’re going through, he lets you know that he’ll be there for you if you need anything. He wants you to know that he cares for you, and that he’ll do anything to make you feel better
When you tell him that you didn’t want to be a burden, Izuku immediately rejects that idea. To him, you’re one of the most important people in his life, and he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, so it hurts him a little that you feel as if your issues would be a burden to him. He reassures you that you’ll never be a burden to him, and that he wants to be there for you, even if it’s your worst day
All he wants is for you to feel better, and he’ll be there every step of the way
Bakugou Katsuki
It’s widely known that Katsuki isn’t the best when it comes to comfort, and he’s even worse when it comes to people showing weakness
However, just because he has poor comfort skills, it doesn’t mean that he isn’t observant. So, when he sees you start to pull away, you better believe that this boy is both confused as hell and angry
It starts off with the little things, with you being rather silent in class, not speaking unless spoken to. Then, he starts to notice how you don’t bother hanging out with your friends anymore, and even the time that you spend with him is either cut short, or you don’t really say anything at all. He would also notice that you’ve lost the life behind your eyes, and, while you try and pretend that everything’s fine, he notices how devoid of emotion you look, how absolutely empty you are
When he first tries to ask you about it, albeit in a rather forceful manner, you shrug him off, saying that you’ve just had an off day, that you’ll be good tomorrow
Slowly, tomorrow turns into the next day, and the day after that, and soon enough it’s been three weeks and Katsuki’s had enough
While he’s angrily brewing in the corner, you’re crying in your dorm room, wanting nothing more than to just go home, where you can be with your family
It was a rather dark month for your family. Three family members had died in the same month, and you truly couldn’t believe it. It was almost like someone had ripped a part of your heart out, and you couldn’t get it back. Since it was such a short span of time, all of your grief had built up, and every single night you found yourself buried in your blankets, face first in your pillow, sobbing your heart out. You tried to be as quiet as possible, as you didn’t want people to pity you, or for them to think that you’re weak. You were in a heroes course after all, and death was a part of the job, so you felt that you couldn’t allow yourself to be vulnerable, not when you’d have to face death on a regular basis
So, you steeled your heart, and every day you would pretend that nothing was going on. Whenever someone would ask if you were alright, you’d just shrug them off, not sure if your words would fail you. You made sure that you did good enough in school to not cause suspicion, and you mostly stayed away from everyone else. Not because you didn’t care for them, but because you didn’t want them to catch on to your ruse
However, when the night came, and everyone was fast asleep in their rooms, you found yourself sitting in the dark, sobbing as you replayed your final memories with your departed relatives. You kept thinking back to the last time you hung out with them, thinking about what you said, what you didn’t say, and how you desperately wished that you could tell them you loved them once more. You wondered if they knew how much you loved them, if they knew how much you missed them
One day, on a particularly bad one, you found yourself sitting quietly in class, minding your own business when you stared out the window of class 1-A. Watching as some kids were still heading into the building, you couldn’t help but replay the memory of when you told your family that you had made it into U.A., the proud look on their faces when you screamed that you’d be in the best class of one of the most prestigious hero courses. When you reminded yourself of the happy looks on your relatives faces, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your eyes, racing down your cheeks.
As you furiously swiped your eyes, you took in a deep breath, doing your best to calm yourself. However, you found yourself unable to pay attention for the rest of class. You just prayed that nothing too important was being taught
Just as you were about to leave, getting ready to hole yourself back up in your dorm, you felt a hang tug on your wrist. Turning around, you found yourself face to face with Katsuki, who seemed to be pissed off. When you asked him what was wrong, he abruptly asked why you looked so pathetic
A little taken aback, you found yourself forcing out a laugh, telling him that you weren’t quite sure what he meant. When he didn’t respond, you looked towards your feet, apologizing for being annoying
That also seemed to be the wrong answer, as he forced you to look back at him, his eyes piercing into yours, almost as if he could see your soul
“What the hell are you on about?” He asked, his normally gruff voice turning slightly softer, as if not to scare you away, “I never said you’re annoying, I just wanna know why you’re so upset,”
Seeing the concerned look on his face caused you to burst into tears. You could tell that you freaked him out, as he tugged you into a hug, burying your face into his chest. He lightly scolded you, saying that you were making it look like he yelled at you. When you finally spilled what was going on, how you lost some family members this month, and how you didn’t want to seem weak because of your grief, Katsuki wasn’t sure of what to say
Instead of trying to say anything, he simply grunted in acknowledgement, letting you know that he was there for you. He told you that mourning the loss of a loved one didn’t make you weak, it made you human. The only thing that would make you weak in his eyes would be if you didn’t give your all in anything that you do
While he may not be the best at comforting a grieving person, if it’s you, he supposes that he doesn’t mind sitting it out with you
Todoroki Shouto
Though Shouto may not be the best when it comes to understanding social cues, it’s glaringly obvious that something has happened to you. While it may have taken him a few days to realize what was off about you, he could tell that something was up
The warm smile he’d receive in the morning, right before class, had disappeared, and instead of replaced by a thinly veiled look of sadness, though you did your best to hide it. The 3 AM chats that the two of you would have about life seemingly vanished into thin air. In fact, you seemed to be the one disappearing, almost as if you were pulling away from his life
When Shouto had first asked you if anything was wrong, you merely shook your head, giving a forced smile while telling him that you were just feeling a bit tired, but he knew that was a lie. He didn’t want to press the topic, though, as he just assumed that you’d work out whatever was going on in your life, and then things would go back to normal. At least, that’s what he told himself to feel better about the situation
In truth, a small, perhaps insecure, part of him was worried that you were distancing yourself because you were going to break up with him. However, when he noticed that you were actually avoiding all of your friends as well, he couldn’t help but feel a shameful breath of relief leave his body. Though he badly wants to ask you if you’re truly okay, he doesn’t want to invade your personal life, and he doesn’t want to force you to talk about your feelings, since he knows that can be a difficult subject
You, on the other hand, were having a hard time keeping a cool exterior. In the past month, not only have you had to say goodbye to one family member, but three. You didn’t tell anyone what had happened, nor did you truly plan on it, either. The idea of being a bother, or a burden, to anyone if you told them about your grief prevented you from speaking, so you decided to keep quiet and instead put all of your focus into your work, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could work away your feelings
So, in the daytime you’d pretend that nothing happened, shrugging off any concerns that your friends and boyfriend would have for you, and insist that nothing had happened, while in the night you’d let out quiet sobs into your pillow, wishing nothing more than to be in the arms of your dearly departed
Eventually, your facade had cracked, just a bit, but it was enough for your boyfriend to notice
While in class one morning, waiting for the lecture to start, you were vaguely listening to the chatter of the 1-A students. Your attention faded in and out occasionally, not really paying attention, but it wasn’t as though you were called out about it. However, when one of your classmates had talked about a call they received from a relative, and how much they missed them and loved them, you found yourself having an even more difficult time controlling your emotions. As tears had begun to fill your eyes, you hastily wiped them away, though it didn’t really do much, as for the rest of the lecture, you fought the urge to just start sobbing. You just prayed that no one saw what was going on, and that you could continue your day as normal
Unluckily for you, Shouto saw the entire thing
So, after school, while you were packing away your stationary, you noticed a certain red and white boy standing in front of your desk. Bracing yourself, you forced a smile, looking at him curiously. When you asked him what he wanted, he stated that he wanted to walk back with you. Just as you were about to deny the offer, like you had been for weeks, he grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently, almost as if he were begging you to say yes
That’s how you found yourself walking side by side with Shouto, who seemed to be observing your every move. From the small glances that you allowed yourself, it looked as though he was deep in thought, trying to find the right words to say. Before you could question his actions, he spoke:
“I saw you trying to hold back tears this morning,” When he saw your posture stiffen up, he squeezed your hand once more, “And I’ve noticed that you’ve been distant these past few weeks. I don’t want to force you to say anything, but I do want you to know that I’m here for you”
For a few seconds, the two of you stand in complete silence. You can’t think of anything to say to put back up the wall you’ve had, though, if you did have something to say, you weren’t quite sure if you could even speak at the moment. As you finally allowed yourself to look at him, you couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks as you saw the look of such concern and care for you
Putting your face in your hands, you felt a sob rip itself out of your throat, along with Shouto’s strong arms being wrapped around your form, as if shielding you from any other negative things in the world. You could hear him whispering small words of comfort, telling you how much he loves you, and how he’s here for you
While Shouto isn’t necessarily comfortable, nor well equipped, to deal with a person in emotional distress, he does try his best, and that’s good enough for you
Once your sobs turned into tiny hiccups, he pulled the two of you to a secluded area on campus, sitting the both of you down. While it took a while, you eventually told him what had happened, and how quickly life seemed to take away your relatives. He never interrupts your story, only listening quietly as you get your emotions off of your chest
After you’ve finished, Shouto envelops you into a hug once more, telling you how sorry he is for your loss. He tells you that you should never feel like a burden to him, that you’re entitled to your emotions, and processing grief doesn’t make you any less important to him. Though there’s probably a million words of comfort running through his head, he can’t seem to find one that feels right
So, he instead suggests that the two of you head back to the dorms, and for the rest of the night, the two of you are cooped up in your room, neither of you really saying anything. He holds you tightly against his chest, letting you cry out as much as you need to, never complaining about how there’s a permanent wet spot on his shirt.
He simply allows you to feel grief, to feel sad and upset and angry at the world, and, while it doesn’t feel great right now, you do feel much better, now that you have someone to hold you in these quiet nights
#bnha#mha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#midoriya izuku#deku#deku x reader#midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou katuski x reader#todoroki shouto#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader
326 notes
·
View notes
Text
Insecurities - Benn Beckman X Male Reader
Requested by Sletza147 (wattpad)
Pairing : Benn Beckman X Male! Feminine! Reader
Word count : 2.1K
A/N : There are a lot of people who are not truly accepting who they are because of this judgemental society. Everyone needs to be given a chance and be appreciated for who they are. I loved writing this request because it was really meaningful and lovely. If a person reading this is not accepting their true self because of this society, I just want to let you know that you are amazing and you are worth everything. Stay strong and love yourself!
Listen to Scars to your Beautiful (Clickable). Its a song I really love which show the worth of every person. I was thinking about this song as I wrote this.
Warnings : Angst, Alcohol, Comfort and then happy ending.
You sit in the corner table of the bar as you chug the glass of beer in front of you. Was it the 7th or the 9th glass? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. All you wanted then to do was to drink away all your problems.
‘Why should it happen to me’, you thought as you clenched your wrist. You placed the glass on the table with a thud and walked towards the podium where some musicians played music. The bar seemed livelier now. You stood on the podium and turned around. Took the mic in your hand and started to sing a song as the musicians played music. You were singing a popular song so everyone cheered you and some even joined you while you sang. This time this lively group were really nice too.
After the song was finished, everyone clapped for you and you bowed. You tried to get down the podium, but as you were drunk, you slipped. But in an instant strong hands stopped you from falling.
“Ah! Thanks”, you said as you looked at the person. He was a tall man with raven black hair. He had a cigarette in his mouth and sharp black eyes.
You pulled away from him and made your way back to your spot. Other people started to sing and dance. Another glass came to you. You this time slowly sipped it. Then the same man with black hair came towards you.
“Is this place taken?”, he asked.
“No. As if anyone would want to sit and drink with me”, you answered as you gave him a weak smile. He sat in the chair and asked, “Why wouldn’t anyone want to sit with you? You seem like a really fun person”
You laughed at his words and asked for the bartender for another glass. “Well, lets see why not”, you said as you straightened your back. He sipped from his glass as he closely listened to you.
“I am a guy and I walk in a way everyone thinks is wrong for a man, to walk like that. I talk in this high pitch voice of mine, and everyone considers it as wrong, for a man. I try to look a bit colourful, and everyone says its not manly, for a guy. In simple words, everyone says ‘I’m not normal’. Now, tell me who would want to sit with me”, you said as the waiter placed another glass of beer in front of you.
“You are drinking too much”, he said only for you to scoff in return.
You sip it slowly and then continue, “People are really mean. They just don’t care what the other person is feeling. If you want to live, you either have to be rich and powerful or super perfect in every way”, you said and looked at him. You thought he wouldn’t care or would stop listening to you, but he kept listening.
You sighed and said, “Many said I was too feminine for a guy to be. Even my family. Also my ex-boyfriend”, you drank some more beer and added, “People love to bully others and especially, when they find someone like me, they won’t hold their horses anymore. You know how hard it is being a gay person. It would become even harder for feminine gay person like me. Where ever you go, people judge you. So, here I am, just like every week. Drinking to reduce the pain in my heart”, you smiled at him as you finish your glass.
“Sometimes, I wish I was normal”, you end with a fake chuckle. The man in front of you listened to every single word of yours carefully.
He drank his beer and placed the glass on the table. He looked sternly at you and said, “You are normal. You are, even if you agree or not”, he said as he indicated for another glass to the waiter.
He turned towards you and said, “There is nothing in this world, which is perfect. Yes, people judge, talk and bully. But if you prove, not to them, but to yourself about how amazing you are, you won’t be sad and drunk like this. Most people are trash and talk bad of one who is hard working, talented and good hearted. That’s hoe people are. If you want to become strong, work hard for yourself. If you want to achieve something, achieve it for yourself. Not for the sake of others. You are worth of many things”, he said as he smiled at you.
“You are already perfect. If you want to become even stronger, come join our Red hair pirates. We won’t judge you”, he said as his hand wiped your cheek. That was when you noticed that you were crying. He was a man who said you were worth it. He got up and placed some cash on the table.
“My treat. Don’t drink too much from now”, he said and left to his original group.
‘He was… he was a pirate and said all those nice things to me’ you thought as you took your belongings and left the place.
The next day you got up with your head killing you. This time, the hangover was worse than previous week. You remembered the man from last night and even if your head was in immense pain, you freshened and went towards the port for any pirate ship. ‘I don’t want to stay here. No person would even care if I leave. I’d die having a fun adventure rather than live with toxic people around me’, you thought as you searched for the ship.
After a while you saw a ship of the red hair pirates, which the man mentioned last night. You saw the man with red hair from the night before. ‘If I remember correctly, he is the friend of the raven haired man’, you thought as you made your way towards him.
“Excuse me, can I talk to you”, you asked the man as he smiled at you and stopped in his tracks.
“Hey! I saw you last night. You are the singer right”, he asked making you chuckle. The intense pain returned back to you and you winced in pain.
“Are you okay?”, he asked and you nodded as you still held your head.
“I saw your friend last night, can I please speak to him”, you asked the man who nodded as he placed his hand on your shoulder and said, “You really don’t seem ok, just come onto the ship. I’ll make sure someone gives you a medicine”, he said. You could only nod at that pain.
He led you towards the pirate ship and took you inside. It was your first time inside a pirate ship and you looked around even though you were in pain. He took you towards a room which looked like a medic room. He told you to sit on the bed and you obliged. He then looked out of the room and said, “Ah! Benn, come here! I need your help”, he said and the same man you were looking for came in. He was surprised to see you there.
“Oh my! You really came! And you met the captain himself”, he said
“What!”, you looked at the red haired man and said, “You are the captain. I… I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself”
“Haha, Its fine. I’m Shanks. Benn told me about you last night. So, do you want to become a pirate?”, he asked and you said, “Yes sir, if its ok, can I join your crew. I’ll make sure I’ll get stronger”
“That’s the sprit! Good. Welcome to the crew!”, Shanks exclaimed and continued, “Benn, could you give the newbie medicine, I’ll be back”, the captain left with that leaving you and Benn alone.
“I told you, you shouldn’t drink that much. See what happened now”, he said as he took a medicine from the cupboard and gave it to you.
“Take this. You’ll soon feel better”, he smiled and sat beside you. You took the medicine and it was sure horrible.
You looked at him and asked, “Why did you invite me to be one of the crew? Don’t you think, I may be a spy or a secret marine? How could you trust a stranger like me, not to say was drunk too at that moment?”
He smiled at you and said, “Yeah that’s a good question but, when I saw your tears just because of some words from a stranger. Your tears… they were pure. So, I offered you to come to the crew, to become even stronger”. You blushed at his words and he laughed seeing your red face.
Then began your journey as a member of the Red hair pirates group. The beginning wasn’t easy. The training was really tough. But you didn’t give up. You wanted to make your captain proud of you. He gave you the opportunity to join them. So you were really grateful to him. You trained with all the members but especially Benn. He gave you special attention and made you stronger. You loved visiting the new islands. They were all so different and unique. While you were on the ship, you noticed that the crew had zero sense of money. Getting to one island, the dorks would spend money on every useless thing and be broke for a lot of time.
As you didn’t want that to happen you took the matter in your hands and started to take care of the money. You started to make sure to give everyone equal share and save some for future. And due to your doings, they at least didn’t be too poor. You really had a hard time make sure to keep their sneaky hands away from the money. Fighting them while they tried to take money made you to become more will powered and stronger.
After 3 years, you showed a real improvement in your combat skills and made Benn and Shanks really proud of you. This crew didn’t once treated you differently. They respected you and treated you as one of them. They never mocked you. If anyone ever tried to make fun of the way you are, they beat the crap out of them.
You loved your crew. But especially… one person even more. That was the first mate of the crew. You always had feelings for him but never expressed them. But one night at a bar on an island, a guy suddenly stated to hit on you. You tried to reject him but he wouldn’t budge. As he was becoming creepier, you had no other choice but to search around for any of the members who weren’t completely wasted. You saw Benn was looking at you. It was as if he was waiting for a signal. “BABE! OVER HERE!”, you called Benn. His face slushed red at how you called him. He came towards you and sat beside you with his arm around your shoulder. Just one glare from Benn, made him to run away.
“Huff… Thanks for coming. He just wouldn’t leave”, you said as you drank the beer and continued, “I wish I also had a boyfriend or just be in a relationship. Makino san and Shanks are always making me jealous”, you fake chuckled and placed the glass on the table.
“Do… Do you like someone?”, he asked making your heart skip a beat.
“What if I say I do? What will you do?”, you asked but the latter didn’t even look at you. ‘If I tell it now, I can blame it was a joke right, since I won’t find a chance like this to play it off’, you thought.
You took the beer glass from his hand and said, “What will you do if I say, I like you? Would you then go out with me?”. Everything was silent but as soon as you said that, he looked at you with a stunned expression. You could see the pink hue on his cheeks.
“Yes, i… I’d go out with you”, he said as he turned his gaze away from you. ‘He is blushing! Oh god… is.. this happening? Is this a dream’, you thought as you looked at him with your eyes wide open.
“Wait, were… were you joking”, you asked him but he looked at you more seriously and said, “Why would I joke, in a moment like this?” he exhaled and turned towards you as he took your hand. “Y/N, will you go out with me. I promise I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. Please be my boyfriend”.
You had no words to answer to his confession. All you could do was nod rigorously as tears slid down your face. He pulled you close to him and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder.
After a while you went ahead to the podium space where people sing sometimes and took the mic. You took a deep breath and started to sing as people turned their focus on you. This time, you only looked at one person as you smiled and sang.
You don’t have to change a thing the world could change its heart
The scars to your beautiful
We’re stars we’re beautiful
XOXOXOXO
I hope you liked it! Please forgive me for any mistakes.
Tell me how you feel by giving me a Like, Comment and Reblog. Thanks for Reading!
#one piece#One Piece Fanfiction#one piece x reader#one piece x you#benn beckman#benn beckman x reader#red hair shanks#red hair pirates#x reader#love yourselves#one piece scenarios#one piece scenario#one piece Headcanons
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Best Surprise - All members (Yoongi focus)
-----------------------------------------------
The hot sun of early June beat down on your cap covered head making beads of sweat form at your hairline. You lifted your hair from around the back of your neck, which had made you feel like you were wearing a scarf, to fan it with the program you were holding. It wasn’t even officially summer and already the heat was almost unbearable. However, you figured you also felt this way because you were nervous. It was your graduation from graduate school; after your 3 last years of school ever you were finally going to officially receive your master’s degree. And although that was a big deal, it wasn’t the only thing making you anxious.
“We aren’t just the class of 2021…” the valedictorian of your school spoke into the microphone at the podium on the stage in front of you and your fellow peers, “…we are the future.”
A classic speech, if not just a tad cheesy.
During the round of applause, you couldn’t help but turn around to get a better view of all the family members sitting behind the students. Through all the heads you couldn’t find your parents, or the one person you hoped would be sitting next to them. You stood up just a little bit, so not to garner too much attention to yourself, but quickly losing your balance and stumbling slightly onto the girl sitting next to you.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
Finally, you spotted your parents in the sea of people, glad to see their faces. But your happiness faded immediately when you noticed the chair next to them was indeed empty. Slumping back down in your seat, a feeling of sadness and disappointment washed over you.
“I’ll really, really try to make it, jagiya, okay? I want to be there. So badly. It’s just awful timing with the release of Butter and everything else, you know?”
You heard your boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the phone call.
“I know it is. It’s okay if you can’t be there, I promise.”
You heard him sigh.
“Still get me a ticket though, alright? To the ceremony.”
You couldn’t help but smile, a tinge of hope searing back into your heart.
“Okay, I will.”
That hope finally completely vanished when your eyes fell upon that seat meant for him. You maybe felt a little foolish for thinking he could make it. After all, he was halfway across the world, in the biggest (and busiest) band in the world right now. You wished so much he could be here. But you also understood why he couldn’t be.
“So, without further ado let us recognize each student from this year’s graduating class from the university’s School of Business!”
You and your fellow classmates began standing up row by row to walk across the stage and accept your diplomas from the dean who was calling out each name individually in alphabetical order.
Sooner or later it was almost your turn. You were standing at the base of the steps to the stage when your full name was called.
“(y/f/n (y/m/n) (y/l/n).”
As you ascended the stairs and shook hands with the professors in a line congratulating all the graduates you suddenly heard a loud yell from the crowd.
“YEAH, (y/n)!!! WOOO!!! YEAH!!”
You turned to find the source of the screaming, and when you saw it, your heart felt like it would burst out of your chest.
For there he was, standing at his seat that had been empty just moments ago, jumping up and down and pumping his fist. A few people stared at how loud he had been, but you were way too happy to feel embarrassed. When you made eye contact, he gave you a double thumbs up and a huge gummy smile. You gave him a little wave and grinned back, ear to ear.
After the ceremony was over you rushed to your feet and scrambled through the crowds of people. Your eyes scanned the grounds, your heart beating fast, your diploma gripped tightly in your hand, your other one holding down your graduation cap so it wouldn’t fall off your head.
Eventually you spotted him leaning against a large sycamore tree, one foot resting on its trunk. He was wearing a classic white button-down shirt, a black skinny tie, his hands in the pockets of his trousers and a black jacket that matched under his arm. You felt your heart skip a beat and you caught your breath in your throat.
He looked even more handsome than you remembered if that were possible. His black hair was tousled messily on his head, his milky white skin glowed in the sun, his eyes narrowed searching for you, too. You practically ran to him.
When he finally noticed you just a few feet away a huge smile appeared on his face, and he outstretched his arms. Without a hint of hesitation, you fell into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his familiar body against yours, running your hand through his soft locks. You felt like crying.
“Yoongi-ah-,” you breathed out, clutching the back of his shirt as if to make sure he was truly in front of you, and it wasn’t just your imagination.
He held you tightly against him.
“My (y/n) … I’m here…”
You let go slightly and took him in close up. You forgot how beautiful he was; how kind his eyes were, how cute his rounded nose was, how soft his thin pink lips looked. You pressed them to yours in a long overdue kiss.
“I’m so glad you made it,” you murmured to him when you broke apart.
He cupped your face in his large vein-y hand and rubbed your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“I would never miss my jagiya’s graduation. Just look at you!” he stepped back to take you in as you giggled and twirled in your graduation outfit for him, “My babygirl has her master’s degree!”
He pulled you back to him and wrapped his arm around your lower back.
“I’m so proud of you, jagi.”
He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.
“Thank you, Yoongi-ah.”
Then he held up his finger.
“Oh wait, one more thing.”
You cocked your head as he took the tassel that was coming out of your cap and moved it to the left side.
“There. Now it’s really official,” he looked at the ground shyly, “At least, I think that’s what you’re supposed to do? I’ve seen it in movies…”
You chuckled and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck.
“Yes, you’re so smart! And I am now officially official.”
You giggled and kissed him once more.
The two of you met back up with your parents (they had figured you wanted the time alone first) and they hugged you and said their congratulations. To your surprise, Yoongi had already asked if it were okay if just the two of you spent the afternoon together since he had something special planned. You promised your parents you both would meet back up with them for dinner. They kindly took your gown and cap for you, told you how proud they were of you and reassured you it was not a problem spending all the time you wanted with Yoongi.
“I hope you don’t mind if we have lunch at this Korean restaurant I found online,” Yoongi asked you as you hopped into the back seat of an uber.
You shook your head.
“Of course not, you know I love Korean food. It’s, like, 80% of the reason I decided to date you, I knew I would have it all the time,” you joked.
He rolled his eyes and poked your side gently making you squeal.
“Oh yeah? And what’s the other 20%?”
You made a look like you were thinking hard.
“Hmm well… I guess you’re kind of cute.”
Then you smiled and quickly pecked his lips before he could respond.
At last, the car pulled up outside the entrance of the restaurant and you and Yoongi walked inside hand and hand.
“Hello,” the host greeted with a smile, “table for two?”
“Um, actually, I have a reser-reservation I think it is called?” Yoongi hesitated with the English word briefly, “yes a reservation. Under ‘Min’, please.”
The host looked over the seating chart before finding his name.
“Ah yes, here we are, Mr. Min. I see you reserved the entire back room, yes?”
You glanced at Yoongi thinking it must be a mistake but he nodded his head.
“That’s right.”
The host smiled and beckoned you with her arm.
“Great! Follow me this way please!”
As you followed closely behind her towards the back of the restaurant you tugged Yoongi’s sleeve.
“Yoongs,” you whispered, “you didn’t have to reserve a whole room for us! I would have been fine at a regular table.”
He grinned back at you and wiggled his eyebrows up and down as you reached two closed sliding doors. He shrugged.
“There weren’t any tables big enough.”
You furrowed your eyebrows.
“Big enough for who exact- “
But with that the doors slid open, and six people jumped up from around the large table in the center of the room and yelled,
“SURPRISE!”
A gasp escaped from your lips and your hand went over your mouth in shock.
There before you were Yoongi’s bandmates, your six best friends: Jin, Namjoon, J-Hope, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, all smiling at you.
Jimin was the first to come towards you.
“Congratulations, our (y/n)-ah!” He wrapped his arms around you in a huge hug, Taehyung soon joining on the other side.
“Congratulations, (y/n)!” Namjoon was next, kissing the top of your head.
Then J-Hope gave you a congratulations dance that made you giggle before embracing you in a hug.
Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and squeezed, making you lose your breath momentarily. Gosh, he was bigger and stronger than you remembered.
“Congratulations, (y/n)-ah.”
You smiled at the youngest.
“Thank you, Kookie.”
Last was the oldest. He strolled up to you and ruffled your hair. You tried to bat his hand away.
“We’re the only ones with two degrees now, (y/n)-ah,” he stated, smoothing down your hair he had messed up and giving it a pat, “Pretty sure that means we’re the smartest of the group.”
You heard Yoongi chuckled and Namjoon snort behind you.
You winked at Jin.
“You’ve always been the smartest of the group, Jinnie.”
It was his turn to snort. Then he smiled and pulled you into a warm hug.
With that, the doors reopened, and multiple waiters brought in plates and plates of food and set them on the table in front of you. Your mouth watered at the sight.
“Aish, what did you guys do, order the whole menu?” Yoongi asked as everyone took a seat.
“We had to, hyung, it’s a special occasion!” Jimin replied, already taking a large bite of the pork ribs.
Before you sat down you took Yoongi’s hand in yours and looked around the table at the seven most important people in your life, feeling happier than you had in while to have them all here together.
“Thank you, guys, so much for coming. I can’t believe you’re actually here. For me, nonetheless,” you chuckled bashfully, “It means the world to me. Thank you.”
They smiled adoringly up at you.
“Of course,” Namjoon spoke up, “We’d do anything for you, (y/n). And we’re really proud of you.”
Yoongi squeezed your hand gently as happy tears threatened to spill from your eyes.
“Yah, don’t cry, don’t cry!” Jin protested, making a silly face at you.
You giggled and sniffled, wiping under your eyes.
“Yeah, come on (y/n)-ah, you’re going to make everyone cry!” J-hope agreed.
You chuckled softly and muttered a quiet apology.
Jimin stood up and walked over to you. Then he pulled your chair out for you and placed his arm around your shoulders, gently pushing you to sit down.
“Eat,” he commanded with a smile, pointing to the heaps of food in front of you.
Yoongi handed you a bowl of rice and chopsticks before kissing your temple lightly. You quickly started to dig in.
“Now, then,” Namjoon said with a bite of half chewed noodles in his mouth, “let’s here all about the ceremony.”
*
Masterlist
#bts#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts imagine#bts drabble#namjoon#namjoon bts#kim namjoon#rm bts#jin#jin bts#kim seokjin#min yoongi#suga#suga bts#yoongi#yoongi imagine#ot7#jhope#jhope bts#jung hoseok#park jimin#jimin bts#jimin#kim taehyung#v bts#taehyung#jeon jungkook#jungkook bts#jungkook
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Asgardian Candidate
Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover
Chapter 3 - “The First Debate”
The 2 candidates strode toward the center of the stage for the ceremonial pre-debate handshake. Both men exuding confidence & authority, even though the air around them was thick with palpable tension
The first lady, Abbey, entering hand in hand with her husband. It was an effort to further highlight the differences between the candidates.
President Bartlet easily outplayed Loki in policy knowledge, but regardless the handsome raven haired charismatic Loki managed to maintain a thin lead over the incumbent. Tonight they were hoping to change that.
They had found a vulnerable spot in Loki, one that Jed was particularly suited to take advantage of. Jed Bartlet was a family man 1st & foremost, nothing mattered more to him. Loki, always solo on the campaign trail with no spouse or relatives to be seen, became visibly angered at the mention of family.
After the first lady had smiled & waved to the audience she turned to her husband. Abbey tipped her head up & kissed Jed, she then placed her hand on his chest over his heart & touched her forehead to his. Both of their eyes closed in that moment & the president placed his hand over Abbey’s, smiling as their hands met.
Loki watched the display with annoyance, to him they were simply putting on an act, a show for their audience. They were posturing.
To the Bartlet’s however this was their moment of ritual, a grounding force that connected them before a moment of political chaos. While it may have been Loki’s weakness, Jed derived only strength from his family & especially from his wife.
Loki placed his hands on his hips & shifted his weight to signal his impatience with being made to wait. He had just finished rolling his eyes when Abbey pulled away from her husband & exited the debate stage.
President Bartlet was the 1st to extend his hand, his warm friendly smile covering a feeling of anxiety. He may be the President of the United States, the Commander In Chief, but something about this man exuded an authority outranking even his own.
Loki locked hands with the President, his lips curling into his signature mischievous smirk, lowering his gaze slightly & boring his rich emerald eyes into his opponent. He was ready for a battle.
As they walked to their podiums, Loki’s eyes stayed on the President. Like a predator stalking his prey, he watched every step the man took. The president could feel the eyes on him, causing him to swallow hard as he took his position.
The 2 men stood roughly 20 feet apart on the large stage, podiums angled toward the front center. The audience had begun to silence & still themselves. The moderator was finishing up sorting her papers. It was nearly time to begin.
Bartlet adjusted his microphone, straightened his tie, basically anything except look at the man to his left. Loki was still staring him down, & he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the nervous fidgeting he had elicited.
Loki’s attention snapped to the front of the stage as the moderator began reciting the debate rules over her own microphone. Truth be told, he had been so wrapped up in his game that he had forgotten she was even there.
He could hardly even see her due to the stage lights, so he looked for the news & TV cameras instead. That was where he would focus. That was who he was campaigning to after all, to the millions watching on TV. They were who he wanted to win.
As the cameras went live the moderator once again recited her introduction & the rules for the debate. This time leaving out bits & pieces that pertained only to the candidates themselves or to their staff. It was really showtime now.
“Good evening, & welcome to the first debate for this year’s U.S. Presidential election. The participants are President Josiah Bartlet, & Mr. Loki Laufeyson. I am Rachel Maddow your moderator. The topics this evening will all be pertaining to U.S. domestic policy. The format for the debate is as follows, & has been agreed to by both campaigns. Each candidate will make a 2 minute opening statement. The debate will then be divided into 6 segments, each 14 minutes long. At the beginning of each segment I will ask both candidates the same lead-off question & they will each have up to 2 minutes to respond, we will then move into open discussion for the rest of the time allotted. At the end of the debate each candidate will be given 2 minutes to make a closing statement. Mr. Laufeyson you won the coin toss, so we will be beginning with you. You have 2 minutes for your opening statement please.”
Loki shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands poised on the edges of the podium. He glanced downward & licked his lips. A smile spread across his face as he brought his gaze back up, locking into the cameras.
“Well, first of all thank you dear Rachel & my opponent, President Bartlet, for taking part in this glorious display of… purpose… before the American people. I know you all feel lost, like leaves scattered in the wind. Without a true direction. That is the downside of freedom, it diminishes life’s joy as you scramble for identity. In order to truly embrace all that this life, this country, has to offer you must put your trust in a true leader. Someone who will lead you down the path toward greatness without question or hesitation. I will be that benevolent leader if you put your trust in my hands.”
“Thank you Mr. Laufeyson. Now to you President Bartlet.”
“I grew up on the promise of life, liberty, & the pursuit of happiness. Along the way, however, we learn how important so many other things there are in our lives. Healthcare, an education, family. Those are just a few that pop to mind. I am, & will be a, president who see’s these issues as ever evolving questions seeking adaptable solutions. As your president I will continue to fight for policy that pulls us forward together, not pushes people into a line. To unite as one family; because at the end of the day, if you have people to call your family - even if you aren’t related by family - you are never truly lost.”
Loki could feel the color drain from his face. Bartlet had just fired a shot across the bow, within the first five minutes of the debate Loki knew he was already starting to sink.
————————
It simply got worse from there. On Asgard Loki never had to attend to matters of actual policy. He was trained as a sorcerer & warrior with a birth right to the throne. Why in the nine realms would he have bothered to learn about budgets & taxes? He was a prince, destined to be a king. A ruler waiting for his throne.
Despite his best efforts to keep up, & even throw a few quick magical charms to make his answers sound more polished, he knew he was floundering. The bile was rising in his stomach as he watched the human to his right take the last of the open question time.
All he had to do now was deliver his closing statement. Then he would re-evaluate. He knew he would have to make a big move tomorrow if he wanted to hold any footing .
“We have now come to the final segment of our debate, the closing statements. Mr. Laufeyson, you have 2 minutes.”
“Standing here, before all of you, I must confess that I spent much of my life being lied to. Many of you have also spent your lives being lied to, by the politicians who claim they will put your needs first. Being told you were something only to find out it was all fiction. All they really care about is power. It’s time for something different than these same lies time after time. I will never feed you those same lies, I will lead you to where you can fully flourish. I will make it easy for you.”
“President Bartlet, you have 2 minutes for your closing statement.”
“While I know that many voters prefer to not delve too deep into the world of policy specifics, & I certainly understand why, but a president should be able to give you a specific plan of how they intend to solve the problems befalling our country. While my opposition here certainly has a flair for language, even when it edges a tad on the overdramatic, I have yet to hear him detail exactly how he will lead this country to a better place. I can tell you that there aren’t many un-nuanced moments in leading a country, it takes much more than fancy generalities. So, Mr. Laufeyson, my question to you is what comes after the generality? What are the next 10 words? How are we going to do it? Give me the next 10 words after that & I’ll drop out of the race right now.”
Loki stood yet with his mouth agape. Fists clenched so tight on the podium his knuckles were white. A mere mortal had bested him, & he knew it just as well as Loki did. Even the moderator had appeared stunned at Bartlet’s closing statement bravado.
As the moderator closed out the debate, the tv camera crews began their scuttle over to the spin room to try & get the best spot for interviews. Bartlet smiled & waved to the audience as he strode offstage. Loki stood there, basking in the stage lights for just a moment longer. Taking a deep breath to compose himself before turning & leaving through the other side of stage. He could already see staffers & stagehands clearing a path for him, they could feel the frustration radiating off of him.
His campaign staff would be taking care of all the post debate interviews. On his best days he hardly had patience for them, on days like today he would rather be looked in closet with his brother than deal with the media’s pedantic prattling. Loki had a plan to put together, & he had to put it together fast.
#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel president loki#loki fanfiction#marvel loki#president loki#president loki fanfic#president loki fanfiction#loki disney+#loki of asgard#loki odinson#mcu loki#mcu fanfiction#mcu fanfic#crossover fanfiction#the west wing#west wing fanfiction#west wing fanfic#president bartlet#josh lyman#toby ziegler#sam seaborn#abbey bartlet#cj cregg#donna moss#leo mcgarry#rachel maddow#debate
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Was It A Dream? (Sungchan Yuta x reader ft doyoung, jaehyun)
A/N : hello again!! This is a light, and fun fanfiction. It’s intended to make you just imagine how fun and chaotic it is to live with two brothers like Jaehyun and Doyoung. You have your eyes on Sungchan and Yuta, until one day they notice you. Join the fun of bickering and expect some plot twist okay!
WARNING : none, it is not rated and Yuta is flirty here. Doyoung and Jaehyun are your brother, but they’re also finding their way to win their s/o’s heart.
HERE WE GOOOO!!!
"Drooling over those two soccer players again?" Your second brother snickers when he finds you sitting on the podium watching the school's soccer team practice. You don't take your eyes off the two young men who look super charming to you especially when they are playing soccer.
Without looking to your older brother you reply "So what? Like you're not eyeing that cheerleader boy too?" That hits him right on the spot, Jaehyun has no words to attack you back. Just when you thought you can gaze on the two princes of your life; your oldest brother surprises the two of you.
"Yak! Doyoung stop doing that! We can have heart attacks!" Jaehyun wipes his shoulder as if cleaning himself from his own brother's touch. You don't get surprised that much and still watch at the two man, the tall Korean guy from your math class Sungchan and the Japanese guy who shares writing class with you, Nakamoto Yuta. They were both older than you but you've fallen for their charms. Both are the aces of the team and you always stay after school on their training days to just watch them from afar.
"Let's go home! I can't believe my sister and brother are this creepy." Doyoung shudders when he sees how focused Jaehyun is in watching that cheer squad leader, Taeyong and his sister (y/n) is sending laser beams to Yuta and Sungchan. 2 men at the same time! Doyoung just shakes his head and notes his watch, it's time to go home. It's almost five and as a student on his last year, Doyoung has extra classes to attend and he was tired. He wants to just go home and sleep, unlike Jae and you who still have the energy to sit there and look like a creeper.
"Okay we're going home now." He stresses his words and pinches yours and jaehyun's shoulders before walking away to the parking lot. "Aish why Doie can't let us have our time?! He's just jealous he doesn't have anyone to look at." You complained Jaehyun reluctantly picks his bag and stands up "Come, I am not walking home." He reaches out his hand for you and you take it. He pulls you to stand and you reluctantly leave the stadium.
"Oh she's going home already?" Yuta asks to his friend when there's a slight break and he sees you being dragged by Jaehyun. The tall man looks to the area Yuta's watching and nods "Guess Jaehyun brought her home by force."
Yuta smiles "She's never taking her eyes off you." Says Yuta and playfully punches sungchan to tease him. Sungchan laughs "I thought she has her eyes on you! I swear she's always sending you that heart eyes when you're running on field."
Yuta smirks "Was she checking out on both of us at the same time?"
Sungchan shrugs his shoulder and finishes his last bottle "I don't know, shall we see who is she actually crazy for?"
Yuta ponders but curiosity takes over his mind "Actually I am curious of that! What do we do?" Sungchan whispers something to the Japanese guy's ear and his smile widens when he imagine how fun will this be. "That sounds interesting!"
---
"Hey (y/n)-" Sungchan taps your shoulder before you stand up from your chair to leave the class. You turn to look at the man tapping your shoulder
"Oh Sungchan-" you look a bit surprised. The tall guy smiles "I saw you yesterday on the podium, guess you like soccer huh?" Your mind wants to scream "no i'm just there to watch you and Yuta...." but you'll just creep him off so you nod your head "Um yeah I grew up with two brothers so I'm more into sports than drama." You lied. Your brothers don't watch soccer :")
"Cool I have a ticket for you so you can watch us. It's the VIP pass. You can come meet us when we're done." Sungchan hands you a ticket and you can't contain your happiness. Well the VIP ticket is expensive and hard to get, even if you have the money sometimes the tickets are sold out already so you're super happy when you get this.
"Woah thank you! I'll definitely come and watch you!" You keep the ticket and walk with Sungchan in the hallway. Your heart is not calm at all, you're going to burst any time soon if this guy did not stop talking to you. "What's your next class?" Sungchan asks you since he also has another class to attend. "Writing, I gotta go." You nervously squeeze your bag and Sungchan did the most unexpected thing. He nods and brings his hand to ruffle your hair "Okay then, guess I'll see you again on my training day." He winks and walks away leaving you speechless with his words and act.
Before your mind can work again someone else has already place a hand over your shoulder. "Hey writing starts in 5 minutes, if we don't rush there, we'll be late." Another deep voice greets your ears. You shake your head, trying to get rid of all ridiculous hallucinations you're having but when you feel your shoulder heavy and someone is breathing next to you.... your legs feel like giving up. "Yuta?" You stammer Great… Sungchan just left you after his heart fluttering actions and this flirty Japanese guy is here.
Well Yuta's known for his flirty side and his tsundere side looks like he is on his flirty side today. "Come (y/n) we need to rush." He squeezes your shoulder and drags you to walk with him to the class. You follow his large steps, your heart beating even faster when you feel his body sticking into yours. You made it on time to the class. The last chairs available are the one in the back and you're sitting next to Yuta for the first time. Yeah you never have the balls to sit beside him, you'll just get distracted and you don't need that right now. But here you are! Seating next to Nakamoto Yuta who's laid back on his chair, playing with his pen, and then focuses on scribbling something. You try to keep your eyes on the board but his hand movement you can see from the side of your eyes caught your attention more. In the end, like attracted to a magnetic field, you turn your head to find out what is making him super focused.
Yuta caught you staring into his paper, trying to figure out what he is scribbling and before you can look away, he holds your hand rips his notebook and places the paper on your hand. Then he pushes your hand to you, and you stare at the paper on your hands. There Yuta just drew a sketch of you holding a hand banner with his jersey number on it. On the bottom corner right, he added his signature and a small note "For my number 1 sweetheart fan
You want to gawk at him that no you're not his number one fan, or yes you are but your mouth can't say anything. "Wow this is nice. Thanks Yuta..." you look into the Japanese guy and wonder just how many more talents he had that you never know. You know Yuta's great in writing, especially since this class is about fictional writing, he aces this class. His plots and imaginations are wonderful and now his drawing skills can make him a successful comic writer if he did not want to be a soccer player! Really Japanese people are mostly great at arts eh?!
"You like that?" Yuta asks when he sees the glimmer in your eyes. You nod "I love it! Gosh Yuta you can be an illustrator and even make a comic out of your stories."
He chuckles "I know, but that's not what I want."
"So what do you want?" You curiously ask him and the man smirks "I want you to come with me this afternoon to a cafe I love."
Boom! Yuta just asked you out on a date. "Me? You're asking me?" You point yourself Yuta nods "Yes you, who else am I talking to?"
You stutter "I- I mean yes I'd love to." He closes his notebook and picks his pen "Okay then, see you at two on the union building."
He leaves after throwing a sweet smile to you and you're once again glued to your seat. You squeal secretly when there is no one and what did you dream of having two of your stars hitting on you. You meet Yuta that afternoon, he treats you on a coffee and both of you ramble on your favorite anime that he watched too. With his Japanese tone he can tease you with some of the male lead lines and you're really dying inside. "Yuta, thank you for the treat, it was great talking to you!" You bid farewell because he needs to attend his soccer club.
"No problem, you're going to watch me?" He asks while standing up and picking up his bag. "I want to, but I have essays to write." You frown.
Yuta ruffles your hair "Himnae! You can watch me in the real match this week. See you!" He waves when he sees your ride has arrived. Yes Jaehyun picks you up and you disappear behind the door.
“Pinch me! Hyung pinch me!!” you shake Jaehyun’s shoulder. He looks at you with an annoyed face and pinches you on your cheeks.
“Happy?” he mischievously grins and pulls your cheek harder. You wince at the pain and slap his hand away “Enough!”
“You ask for it!” he taunts, and you bring one hand to soothe the red cheeks, “I AM NOT DREAMING!”
Jaehyun just shakes his head at your antiques, he drives safely back home while you’re busy opening your bag to check the ticket Sungchan gave and Yuta’s drawing. When you find both of them in your possession, you kiss both papers and laugh happily. Jaehyun really looks at you like you’re being possessed, and he should slap you to reality, and he did that on the red light.
“WHAT?!” you yell when he slaps you hard enough.
“I thought you might be possessed.” He shudders
“I am not. Look, I got a VIP ticket for this week’s match and a nice portrait of me from Yuta!” you show your brother the papers and he pulls out an “Eeew you’re like a crazy in love teenagers.”
You taunt at him, “Admit it if you’re jealous. I don’t care what you say. I am not dreaming; today is not a dream and this week I’ll be seeing my men up close!”
Jaehyun laughs at you nevertheless, well he is happy as long as you’re happy and Doyoung? Guess he’ll just stay quiet until Doyoung watches you boast about the same thing to him too.
“For your information, you just got a ticket right?” Jaehyun suddenly asks you when both of you are taking the lift to the sixth floor.
You nod your head and Jaehyun just smirks, “I won Taeyong’s number already.”
If the lift door is not opened, you will already scream out loud “What?! When?”
But since the door is opened and other residence and your oldest brother comes in view you decided to stay quiet.
Doyoung notices the fishy look on Jaehyun’s face and your surprised face. He wonders what silliness he should deal with again today, but he won’t ask if no one is going to tell.
In the end, Doyoung figures out about your meeting with Sungchan and Yuta. He also hears Jaehyun boast around about his closeness to Taeyong now, and he’s tired watching the two of you bicker about being closer to have them in your hands.
“You two, actually (y/n) bet to me that Jae wouldn’t get Yong’s number but he did, so you owe me 20.” Doyoung suddenly smirks as he hands out his palm of hand and you roll your eyes as you stand up to get your wallet and pay him.
Doyoung then turns to Jaehyun, “And you, when did you win Taeyong’s number?”
Jaehyun thinks for a while, “Yesterday?”
Doyoung smirks, “I have gotten Jeno’s since last week. Pay up!”
You hang your mouth when you realize just how smart and tricky Doyoung is in making you lose and Jaehyun lose too.
Jaehyun felt cheated, but in the end he has to pay up too. Both you and Jaehyun look cross to Doyoung and together mutter,
“JUST WAIT AND SEE.”
end.
#sungchan x reader#sungchan x you#sungchan x y/n#yuta x you#yuta x y/n#yuta x reader#yuta#sungchan#yuta imagines#sungchan imagines#jaehyun x doyoung#jaehyun#doyoung#nct imagine#nct scenarios#sungchan scenarios#yuta scenarios#sungchan oneshot#yuta oneshot#jaehyun oneshot#doyoung oneshot#nct oneshot
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whumptober 2021: Day 2
Talking is Overrated
Hades Fanfiction | Choking
Summary: Zagreus has had enough of Theseus, and decides to try something new in their next encounter. In their battle in Elysium, someone goes a little too far.
Until we meet again, mother.
Eager to reach the summit and the snows of Greece, Zagreus takes up his bow and pierces through countless undead denizens, much like every other day before him.
After receiving the great goddess Demeter's blessing, he opens the double doors to the colosseum. This would lead him to the final trial in his journey through Elysium, which he had loathed since the first time he set foot there, not for the challenge, mind you, but for the man he would be facing.
Zagreus is greeted with the cheers of a thousand spectating souls of the Elysian arena. All around him are watchtowers and seats filled to the brim with the shades and shadows of champions and spectators long past. Grand gold banners featuring the visage of a handsome, bronze-skinned man, and a proud, red-horned bull-man, are hung around the arches. They were Theseus and Asterius, and they represented the cream of the crop, the pride and glory of Elysium.
He's rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation before he even looks up at the duo.
"And here he comes, the foul beast! Come to get pummeled by me and my trusted friend, have you? Well, look no further!" Theseus, the oh-so-mighty champion of Elysium, friend of the gods and of the people. If looks could kill, they could, because his personality radiated look at me - his incredibly toned body, shield and spear in one hand. His friend and fellow fighter, the mighty bull of Minos, sneers at Zagreus.
The heart-seeking bow thrums with pure, unbridled energy in Zagreus’ hand, eager for a fight. Bows are not supposed to have feelings, but somehow, he could feel it radiating annoyance from hearing the notorious speaker.
Zagreus pipes up. "I should say the same thing to you, mate. Why don't you let poor Asterius here talk sometime? He must be bored to death with how much boasting you spew."
The man-bull, Asterius, swings his towering axe, its glint dangerous and shiny. “We’ve talked about this before, short one. I’m indebted to him, and there is nothing more to say about this.”
He was not one for words, as experience puts it. So Theseus speaks for him. “Silence,you wretch! I'll have you know that he has no time to talk with knaves like you. You’ll never achieve anything, and if it takes the will of the gods to come and teach you a lesson, then I happily oblige.”
Theseus raises his spear, and the audience cheers in anticipation.
“Now die!”
Asterius huffs and charges down the arena as Zagreus dashes away to prepare a frosted arrow. With not a word, Zagreus’ frozen arrows fire true at the bull. At the same time, he dodges the attacks coming at him from Theseus’ spear. His moves are fluid and efficient - one charged arrow after another, and he smirks as he sees the already-weaking Asterius, the spring in his charge getting slower by the moment. Theseus, on the other hand, seems not to be bothered at all by this, and remains sneering at him, not a scratch on his toned body. Still, that damned champion keeps talking.
“Back, foul daemon, or be vanquished even faster than you've come to expect!"
It has been many attempts before he’s come to familiarize himself with the duo’s moves. Theseus always proves to be a difficult one as he's always kept his distance, and when Zagreus comes close enough to strike, he holds out his shield, laughing all the while. Setting himself between one of the podiums, he easily dodges Asterius’ axe bearing down upon him, but somehow he was grazed by a shockwave of purple energy, scoring him across his right leg.
“Argh! You..” Zagreus winces in pain. He stands up - there was no room for error here - and situates himself in another podium as he takes a bloodstone to cast a fog of thunder and poison. As soon as Asterius charges towards him, he throws the bloodstone in the air and it explodes in a haze of purple and yellow, temporarily stunning the bull-man.
Zagreus then calls upon Artemis to finish the job. In a flash of green, the hunter's seeking arrow bears down on Asterius and he screams as he drops to the ground, lifeless. In the underworld, no one truly dies - so the blood of the river Styx comes to claim his body, to be resurrected once more.
“Asterius, no!”
Theseus growls. Across the colosseum, Zagreus can feel the anger and sadness in his opponent’s voice as he prepares to cast another festive fog in his direction. The crowd roars with anticipation as Theseus throws his spear in Zagreus' direction, and he successfully pierces his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp.
“What, blackguard, had enough? We're just getting started!” Theseus stops for a moment, and calls upon a favor from Olympus.
“Lord Ares, give me your power!”
The arena suddenly darkens, and there is a chill that makes Zagreus’ stomach drop. All around Zagreus, deathly, bloodstained blades materialize out of nowhere and threaten to drop at his head anytime. Zagreus prepares to fire an arrow, but suddenly feels a pierce at his lower right side. It hurt, but he had to keep pressing forward, finding an opening where he could rest and nock a frosted arrow once more. All the while, Theseus comes nearer to him, taking his spear while avoiding the frenzy of Ares’ blades.
“I could destroy you, right here, right now. But not yet. I want to see you suffer and bleed out across the arena, just like what you’ve done with my Asterius!”
Zagreus was not at his peak performance. His carelessness led him to be struck by another blade as the wind got knocked out of his chest. Theseus closes the distance between them. His spear presses onto his bleeding side, and Zagreus can feel the pain blossom and explode. He screams as he feels life leave him, and Theseus smirks in smug satisfaction.
“There we go--" and the spear presses ever deeper. "--The gods are in my favor, and I will do everything I can to prove that I am qualified for that. Without their blessings, you are nothing. This help from Lord Ares is nothing, as even without it..” The spear in Zagreus’ side connects with the wall behind him, and Zagreus cries out in pain. “I can crush you, like the little vermin you are. I’m here to stop you from accomplishing whatever it is you want to do beyond here, Zagreus, because you’re not worthy--”
Theseus chokes on his words as Zagreus’ screams, darkness enveloping his body as he defies death. He feels life come back to him and his newfound strength gives him the energy to take an arrow and slash at Theseus’ face. In a flurry, Zagreus turns the tables. He takes out the spear on his side and takes Theseus by the neck, slamming him onto the wall of the colosseum. He takes his spear and with much force, stabs Theseus on the heart with it, and into the void Theseus screams.
“Khh.. what--”
“Shut up, Theseus. You’re the vermin. Not me.”
A blade comes down to deal damage to Zagreus but he endures the pain as it slices his right arm. Theseus is on the ground, nearly lifeless, a gaping hole in the middle of his proud chest. In his fury he tries to reach for his spear but Zagreus merely stabs it onto the hole he’s already made, blood quickly pouring out of it. At the same time he raises his foot, stepping on Theseus’ mouth to prevent him from speaking again.
In the same fashion that Asterius had exited, so too did Theseus. There was fear in his blue eyes as Theseus looked up to see Zagreus and his mismatched eyes with a crazed look. There was a fury that was not there before. Perhaps, he thought, he had said something wrong. Perhaps, he thought, he had gone too far. His body gives in as the floor becomes liquid, the river Styx claiming his body.
The crowd in Elysium cheers as only Zagreus is left alone in the colosseum, the indication that he was the victor. But Zagreus does not look up. He remembers Theseus’ words, as he recalls that that was the first time he has ever addressed him by his name. Somehow, that scared him. Perhaps, he had gone too far.
He takes his strides as he collects the bounty of ambrosia in the middle of the arena. He raises a hand towards the singular shade that has a banner with his visage on it, and he wondered what they thought about their actions in the battle. But he cannot talk, as he has much to think about.
As silently as he had entered, Zagreus headed toward the double doors that lead to the Temple of Styx open up to him, leaving behind the audience of Elysium.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Taylor Swift prompts p1!
I really love Taylor Swift and so I wanted to create some RP starters based off her songs. I’ll organize it via the titles of the songs like usual. There are 104 total here!
:: The 1
"I’ve been saying yes instead of no.”
“I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though.”
“I hit the ground running each night.”
“You know the greatest films of all time were never made.”
“If you wanted me, you really should’ve showed.”
“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.”
“It’s all right now.”
“We were something, don’t you think so?”
“If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”
“In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone.”
“It would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one.”
“I have this dream that you’re doing cool shit, having adventures on your own.”
“We never painted by the numbers baby but we were making it count.”
“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.”
“It’s another day of waking up alone.”
“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?”
“In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time.”
:: Hoax
“This has broken me down.”
“This has frozen my grounds.”
“Give me a reason.”
“Your faithless love is the only hoax I believe in.”
“Don’t want no other shade of blue but you.”
“No other sadness in the world would do.”
“I am ash from your fire.”
“You know the hero died, so what’s the story for?”
“You know it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart.”
“You knew the password so I let you in the door.”
“You knew you won so what’s the point in keeping score?”
“What you did was just as dark, darling this was just as hard.”
“You have beaten my heart.”
:: Illicit Affairs
“Make sure nobody sees you leave.”
“Hood over your head, keep your head down.”
“Take the road less traveled by, and tell yourself you can always start.”
“It’s born from just one single glance but it dies, and it dies a million little times.”
“Leave the perfume on the shelf.”
“You picked it out just for him so you leave no trace behind.. like you don’t even exist.”
“Take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high. A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.”
“Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby. Look at this god forsaken mess that you made me.”
“You showed me colors that you know I can’t see with anyone else.”
“Look at this idiotic fool that you made me.”
“You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else.”
“You know damn well for you, I would ruin myself a million little times.”
:: This is Me Trying
“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting.”
“I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting.”
“I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that.”
“Could’ve followed all my fears all the way down.”
“Maybe I don't quite know what to say but I’m here in your doorway.”
“I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.”
“They told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all of my potential.”
“My words shoot to kill when I’m mad.”
“I was so ahead the curve, the curve became a sphere.”
“I fell behind in all of my classes and I ended up here.”
“Pouring my heart out to a stranger, but I didn’t pour out the whiskey.”
“It’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound.”
“It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.”
“You’re a flashback on a film reel on the one screen in my town.”
:: Coney Island
“If I can’t relate to you anymore, then who am I related to?”
“If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?”
“Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?”
“Sorry for not making you my centerfold.”
“The question pounds my head, what’s a lifetime of achievement?”
“Did I pushed you to the edge, but you were too polite to leave me?”
“Did I leave you hanging every single day?”
“Were you standing in the hallway, with a big cake.. happy birthday. Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey?”
“When I got into the accident, the sight that flashed before me was your face.”
“When I walked up to the podium, I think I forgot to say your name.”
:: It’s Time To Go
“He’s insisting that friends look at each other like that.”
“Trying to stay for the kids' and keeping it how it is will only break their hearts worse.”
“Sometimes giving up is the strong thing.”
“Sometimes to run is the brave thing.”
“Sometimes walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing.”
“I gave it my all, he gave me nothing left and then wondered why I left.”
“He sits on his throne in his palace of bones, praying to his greed.”
“He’s got my past frozen behind glass but I’ve got me.”
:: Exile
“I can see you standing honey, with his arms around your body.”
“You’re laughing but the jokes not funny at all.”
“It took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it.”
“I’m holding all this love out here in the hall.”
“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”
“You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?”
“You were my town but now I’m in exile, seeing you out.”
“I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy. Like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me.”
“Those eyes add insult to injury.”
“I’m not your problem anymore, so who am I offending now?”
“You were my crown, now I’m in exile seeing you out.”
“I think I’ve seen this film before so I’m leaving out the side door.”
“Step right out, there’s no amount of crying I can do for you.”
“All this time, we always walked a very thin line. You didn’t even hear me out.”
“You never gave me a warning sign, I never learned to read your mind. I couldn’t turn things around.”
:: Champagne Problems
“You booked the night train for a reason.”
“I dropped your hand while dancing, left you out there standing.”
“Your heart was glass and I dropped it.”
“You told your family for a reason, you couldn’t keep it in.”
“Your sister is splashed out on the bottle and now no one’s celebrating.”
“Your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems.”
“You had a speech, you’re speechless.”
“Love slipped beyond your reasons and I couldn’t give a reason.”
“This dorm was once a madhouse, I made a joke well it’s made for me.”
“How evergreen our group of firends, I don’t think we’ll say that word again.”
“I never was ready so I watched you go.”
“Sometimes you don’t know the answer until someone is on their knees and asks you.”
“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked up in the head.”
“You’ll find the real thing in stead, she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chihiro x Reader - Reader reacts to Chihiro’s death
anon said: I hear you're good at angst 👀 could I please get a Chihiro x fem reader where the reader is there with Makoto and Byakuya when they discover Chihiro's body and then the events of the trial, in which the reader has to be held back by her classmates when it's revealed what Byakuya did and that he did it for his own entertainment? (like honestly, what the fuck Byakuya??) Sorry if this is too long 😅
Nonnie you hit the right blog because the second I started writing this I did not stop and I think I went legitmately feral on this one. I might be a bit off with the request because I’ll be real I think I got possessed by Edgar Allen Poe during this but I do hope you enjoyed! Get your tissues and say a prayer for the poor souls in the danganronpa-x-reader discord server who got to see snippets of what I was writing before I posted -Mod Akane : )
“Come on, let’s check in the girls locker room first.” Byakuya commands (Y/N) and Makoto, both of them muttering something about why we had to specifically check the girls locker room… (Y/N) notes how the door seems to already be swinging open, but the thought is quickly put away as she follows along into the locker room.
Everything fell in an instant.
Everything fell apart.
“GAAAAAAH!” Makoto basically screamed at the top of his lungs, falling backwards and nearly knocking into (Y/N) as he fell to the ground. When she avoided him and saw what she saw…
“CHIHIRO!” (Y/N) screamed, nearly damaging everyone in the vicinity’s eardrums. The horror set in as tears welled up in her eyes, pouring over and blurring everything from her vision to her very mindset. Chihiro.. Chihiro, her lover, her best friend.. He… he was dead? Someone.. someone killed Chihiro?
Ding - dong!
“A body has been discovered!” Monokuma calls, way too cheerily over the monitor, sparking a rage within (Y/N). Chihiro was dead, and this- this son of a bitch saw it as free entertainment. “Everyone, please gather in the girls locker room!”
The monitor flickered off.
(Y/N) stood in shock, right between Byakuya and Makoto. It was only a second of hesitation before she darted towards him.
Byakuya snagged her by the sleeve. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asks, impatient.
“CHIHIRO IS FUCKING DEAD, BYAKUYA!” (Y/N) screams. “H- SHE DOESN’T DESERVE TO DIE LIKE THIS! STRUNG UP LIKE A FUCKING MASTERPIECE! SOMEONE KILLED HER!”
“It doesn’t matter who or what happened.” Byakuya grimaces. “This is a crime scene. You cannot alter the evidence. Unless you would like to be seen as the blackened, I suggest you restrain yourself from touching the scene.”
Byakuya let go of (Y/N)’s sleeve, his iron grip nearly having torn it. “So? Do you still want to get her down?”
(Y/N) grimaced at him, before choosing to look away. “Asshole..!” Tears filled their eyes once again.
(Y/N) spent the entire investigation crying into Sakura’s chest and being held back from the crime scene, clearly too much of a fury of emotions to be able to do anything. How couldn’t she be? Her best friend, her lover, ripped away from her by some selfish fucking asshole who didn’t want their secret exposed.
She didn’t seem present for the first half of the trial.
Everyone noticed.
Within minutes, maybe even an hour she looked so much worse for wear. Eyes that were dead and longing and barely having moved or spoken almost the entire trial. When questioned about Chihiro’s gender, (Y/N) just nodded.
Of course she had known. That’s what most of her classmates thought.
There’s this thing about death. You become so close to someone, you pour your heart into them and they do the same. They’re there for you almost everyday. And then one day, sudden or not.. They’re just taken away.
Of course, it’s inevitable.
But nothing on this Earth could prepare someone for that feeling. That feeling of loss, that feeling of calling someone’s name just out of habit just to end up crying on the floor because it comes crashing down all over again that they’re gone and you’d never see them again. It was a horrible, soul crushing despair that seeped into every neuron and part of your brain and would take forever to let go. It’s a feeling that breaks you down and holds you there.
Of course, (Y/N) was aware of everything happening the entire trial. It was like taking off your glasses or unfocusing a camera. Everything’s still there and if you focus really hard you might be able to see what happens. But the crushing weight of coping with that, the fact that she’d never see Chihiro again, the fact that she’d never kiss him again, never get to hug him, or cry into his shoulder, the fact that one day she had seen him for the very last time and she had never known.
Hindsight is always 20/20.
It didn’t feel like the glasses were put back on, like everything came into focus again, until Byakuya had spoken.
“I tampered with the crime scene, yes, but I am not the culprit.” He states, plain and simple. Not a sign of emotion in his speech or his eyes.
And something about that broke (Y/N).
She slammed her hands on her podium, the noise echoing through the trial room it had been so hard, snapping all surviving eyes on her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” (Y/N) screams.
“...Elaborate.” Byakuya states simply. It wasn’t a request, or out of confusion, it was a fucking demand.
(Y/N) took a heavy breath. “You are so fucking intolerable! YOU ARE A SOCIOPATH! CHIHIRO IS FUCKING DEAD, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” She begins to scream, and the two on either side of her- Asahina and Sakura- look at her with concern. “I DON'T CARE IF YOU KILLED HIM OR NOT, WHO ARE YOU TO DO SUCH.. SUCH A HORRID THING?!” (Y/N) screams, her throat scratching and voice cracking all as her eyes began to swell with hot tears, making everything blur just a bit more.
“Your senseless screaming has no affect on me.” Byakuya states simply. “I don’t care to listen to someone too clouded by her pitiful emotions to think straight.”
(Y/N) doesn’t even stop for breaths anymore. “YOU MUTILATED MY BOYFRIENDS BODY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH OF A HORRIBLE PERSON YOU ARE?! THAT WAS A PERSON! A REAL PERSON WHO I LOVED! WHAT IS IT GOING TO TAKE FOR YOU TO REALIZE THIS IS NOT A FUCKING GAME?!”
“It is a game.” Byakuya shoots back, irritated now. “Your senseless screaming gets us nowhere. If you can’t keep your emotions together, then you will be the next to go. If you crack under the pressure, that is not my problem. I intend to win.”
“YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING SCUMBAG!” (Y/N) screams, and it’s clear she’s ready to hop over the podium and choke the very life out of Byakuya’s eyes. To just.. rip away all signs and life of humanity, to do everything he fucking deserved to have done to him.
What kind of human could be so corrupted to play with a corpse like a fucking barbie doll? What kind of person could be broken, so fucking demented to enjoy watching people, living breathing people who they knew personally who had families and friends and lovers.. What kind of asshole would enjoy watching them die, enjoy the flurry of emotions and pain that comes with it, enjoy the loss, the despair, the grief, the emotional fucking storm that rips your heart in two until it can’t fucking beat anymore?
“(Y/N), you must calm yourself.” Sakura sets a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder.
“HE TOOK AWAY MY ONLY FRIEND!” (Y/N) screams, snapping away at the touch. “I DON’T CARE WHO THE KILLER IS, HE’S THE REAL MONSTER!” She steps back, like she’s about to hop the podium, but Asahina grabs her from behind, hooking her arms under (Y/N)’s to hold her tight.
“(Y/N), you’ve gotta calm down! We’re not gonna ever find the blackened like this!” Asahina shouts, struggling against (Y/N)’s rapid fighting as she begins to break down all over again.
“I DON'T CARE!” She screams, trying anything to fight against Asahina. “I-I’d rather be dead than al-alone..!” She begins sobbing, before finally losing all the fight in her, slumping over in Asahina’s grip. “I-I want Chihiro back…!” She sobs, the tears flooding her vision and pouring out, gasping for air as if Chihiro’s death itself took away her ability to breathe, her executive ability to function.
(Y/N) finally stops screaming and fighting. Nothing stops her sobbing though, her relentless crying as she falls to the floor like a pile of rags when Asahina finally lets her go as the trial continues. Even through Byakuya’s mockery, nothing can get her back up off the floor.
Chihiro was gone.
It’s so hard. To cope with a loss in such a short time. In a place like this- this fucking nightmare- there was no time to mourn. It was loss after loss with no breaks in between. An academy of nothing but death and despair and pain, where when you lost someone it was game fucking over and you’d never get them back.
(Y/N) didn’t even know if she voted. She didn’t even know if she really saw the execution, or if she saw the blackened, or if she heard what snippy bullshit Monokuma had to say. She only really knew that Chihiro was gone, and that was all that mattered.
She didn’t remember how she got back to her dorm. Her legs certainly wouldn’t hold her up well enough to carry her all the way there. All she remembered was crying, crying like she’d never felt pain before, clinging to pillows that still just barely clung to the scent of Chihiro, like vanilla and coffee, pillows still left with the imprint of when Chihiro would sleep in (Y/N)’s bed.
#chihiro fujisaki#angst#chihiro fujisaki x reader#chihiro fujasaki#danganronpa#danganronpa thh#drthh#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa chapter 2#x reader#mod akane#this hurt to write and i enjoyed every second#anon
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a Woman
draco x reader
inspiration : little woman scene (linked here) with timmy and flo in the paint studio (i’m obsessed with the whole cast) i will be using many quotes from that scene.
summary : Draco has been in love with y/n her whole life. But in the 1860s youre expected to marry rich to succeed. Draco isn’t wealthy enough to fulfil y/n needs.
angst/fluff
From the time you learned to walk you are always told “you must marry rich to keep afloat”. It was told to you countless times throughout your life. You always knew you would marry rich. You found no shame in that. In today’s society it was expected of you. Sit still, be polite, not too loud, not too quiet. Just right.
You were engaged to a guy you had met through a mutual friend, Fred Vaughn. Did you love him?
Those four words played over and over in your head. Like an annoying catchy song no one really liked but it just stuck with you. Of course, deep down you knew you didn’t love him. You knew who truely held your heart.
“Marry rich. You must keep your family safe. You must do what is expected of you. You have no choice.”
You tried endlessly to understand the cruel world you were living in. Why would a person you call god put you in a place like this? Put me in a place that discriminates against anyone who isn’t anyone less than picturesque?Anyone who isn’t a man. A white man. A white wealthy man.
You sit next to your easel painting your frustrations away, although it only seems to be making you feel worse.
“y/n.”
You turn to see Draco standing in the doorway. Damn him for his model like face. I could just kiss- no.
“Hello Draco” you say flatly.
“What? No sass today? I expect better from you, my love.”
My love. If only.
“I’m a failure. My sister is in New York, being a writer, and I’m a failure” you sigh.
“That’s quite a statement to make at twenty.”
“Well this took all the vanity out of me and the world has made me realize I’ll never be successful, so this is me giving up all of my foolish artistic hopes.” you say as you walk around the empty art studio cleaning your supplies.
“You can’t just give up y/n- you have so much talent”
“Talent isn’t genius. And no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great or nothing. And I refuse to be a common place doubler and I don’t intend on trying anymore.”
Your mind can’t help but race and think of all the successful artists. All the successful men, anyways.
“What women are allowed into the club of genesis anyway?” draco says off handedly. He wasn’t trying to make you more upset. He was simply stating a fact. A sad, but true fact.
“I can proudly say you are the most talented person i’ve ever met, y/n. Male or female, you never fail to amaze me.” he says. He was always able to do that. Even when we were kids he would say some sappy little comment like that and it would instantly make you feel a little better. It shouldn’t though.
“I do think male or female I am of... middling talent.”
“Middling talent?” he chuckles softly.
He stomps onto the small podium and jumps onto the chair, almost falling.
“May I ask- your last portrait be of me?”
You hum back softly in response. It isn’t like it will be the first time of you painting him. You’ve done it countless times before even if he isn’t aware of that. It’s like his cheekbones and slim body are made to be painted. You could never resist such a simple request.
“Now that you’ve given up all your so called foolish artistic hopes-” he stops, giving you a pointed look, “what will you plan to do with your life?”
It was a simple question. A question you’ve been asked so many times. A question Draco has asked you so many times. He always knows the answer you will say. But he also knows that deep down that isn’t the answer you want.
“Polish up on all my other talents and become an ornament to society.”
“That’s where Fred Vaughn comes in a suppose?” he says with disgust.
You two have bickered too many times to count over Fred. Draco loves you. And you love him. But it isn’t enough. Not for you- not for your family. You have things that are expected of you- and marrying for love is not one of them.
“Don’t mention him.”
“You’re not engaged I hope?”
“No.”
“But you will be? If he goes down properly on one knee?”
You pause. You both know the answer. He almost always knows your answer before you speak. He’s always been able to read you. You nod slowly, unable to say the words aloud.
Marry rich. You must keep your family safe. You must do what is expected of you. You have no choice. Those words played in your head again.
“I undersatnd queens of society cant get along without money- although it does sound odd coming from your mouth.”
“I’ve always known I was going to marry rich. You know this. Why should I be ashamed of that?” you snap back at him.
He holds his hands up in defense. You know he isn’t trying to wind you up but it’s a sore subject for you two. “There’s nothing to be ashamed off. As long as you love him...”
We aren’t having this conversation again. Not after everything.
“Well,” you huff “I believe we have some power over who we love. It isn’t something that just happens to a person-”
“I think the poets would disagree.”
“Well I’m not a poet. I am just a woman. And as a woman there’s no way for me to make my own money. Not enough to earn a living or support my family” you slowly ease over to him, “and if i had my own money- which i don’t- that money would belong to my husband the moment we got married. And if we had children they would be his not mine. They would be his property. So don’t sit there and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proportion because it is. It maybe not be for you, but it most certainly is for me.”
He doesn’t have time to answer. You are now standing next to his seat, looking down at him as you hear Fred’s carriage arrive.
“Will you untbutton me, please?” you turn around as he gets up and stands behind you.
You feel his cold, boney fingers on your waist. He stands so close you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut and take his scent in. Sandalwood and green apples. He slowly unties your apron letting is fall to the ground as he whips you around. Even though you still have your dress on, you can’t help but feel so bare. So vulnerable. Standing toe to toe with your nose touching.
“Dray-” you can’t help but whimper.
“My sweet girl.” he says softly as he carresses your cheek. You instinctively lean into his touch. You can’t help but stare into his captivating blue eyes for a moment too long.
You come back to reality and step away from him going to the clothing rack to grab your shawl. Flustered, you put it on trying to look more presentable.
“Do- do I look alright?”
“You look beautiful.” he says taking you in.
“You are beautiful.”
You stare into each other’s eyes before sauntering off outside to your awaiting boyfriend.
#draco x y/n#draco imagine#draco x you#draco x reader#draco malfoy#harry potter#little woman 2019#draco fluff#draco angst#little woman
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Serotonin
PAIRING: Harry x Reader
RATING: M for mature
WORD COUNT: 23.7k
REQUESTED: nope!
hi everyone 🥺🥺🥺 she’s here 🥺🥺🥺 please be kind to her 🥺🥺🥺 i poured my heart out into this fic. it’s the longest (and probably the best) standalone piece that i’ve ever written. if you want to let me know your thoughts, reblogging and sending feedback to my askbox would mean the absolute world.
p.s. since this fic is extremely long, it may cause the tumblr mobile app to glitch. if that happens to you, i suggest opening it up in google chrome or safari instead. enjoy 💕
~*~
September 4th, 2019
You always sit in the middle.
The front makes you feel far too exposed. It’s more likely that you’ll be called upon by chance, and your professors are liable to notice your absence if they’ve grown accustomed to seeing you sat squarely before them during every class.
The back is riddled with too many distractions. You know that you’ll end up watching the shows playing on the laptop screens of the students in front of you. You might not even be able to hear the lecture all that well. Despite your aversion to sitting at the front, you still want to pass with a decent grade.
The middle of the lecture hall serves as a happy medium.
Margaret and Mateo agree. That’s why the three of you push through the door and make a beeline for the trio of free seats located directly in the middle of the room. They seem to be calling your names. You nudge past a pair of girls who are absorbed in a hushed conversation, taking the time to apologise for the inconvenience. A moment later, you plop down into your chair; Margaret takes the seat on your left, while Mateo slumps against the one on your right.
“You’d think that with the thousands of dollars we pay each year, they’d be able to afford more comfortable chairs,” Mateo mutters, resting his chin on a closed fist. You snort in response.
Margaret flips her silky hair over her shoulder. “It’s because they’re too busy offering ridiculously-high salaries to profs who can’t even teach.”
You shoot her a look, cocking one eyebrow teasingly. “We all know that you want to namedrop Allende. It’s okay—you can say it.”
“She’s horrible,” Margaret groans, burying her face into her hands. “She speaks the language perfectly, but she can’t fucking relay the knowledge in an effective way. Isn’t that the entire point of teaching?”
“That’s what you get for minoring in Spanish,” Mateo mutters.
You laugh and nudge him with your shoulder. “Oh, like your minor is any better? How do you say ‘dumbass’ in Latin?”
“It’s the root of most European languages!” he protests.
“It’s a dead language!” You and Margaret say at the same time. You turn to face each other with wide eyes; an incredulous giggle slips past your lips. Mateo opens his mouth to form a rebuttal, but then the door to the lecture hall slams shut, and every head in the room snaps in the direction of the sound.
“Glad to see that trick still works.” Dr. Renault claps his hands before rubbing them together excitedly. Subconsciously, you sit up a bit straighter in your seat.
Dr. Renault is a short, balding man, with a face framed by thin gold spectacles and a belly that bulges slightly over the waistband of his suit bottoms. He fiddles with his red tie as he makes his way over to the podium at the front of the room. You’ve heard good things about him; almost everyone who has taken his class has left shining reviews and gushed about his skills. The buildup has set your expectations high. You don’t think that you’ll be disappointed.
Your eyes drift away from your professor, drawn, now, to the person walking a few paces behind him. The man has wavy brown hair that curls just behind his ears. He’s wearing a patterned green sweater and black trousers; a pair of dark brown loafers adorn his feet. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up slightly, and you can’t help but to notice the smattering of dark ink that decorates his left forearm. Big, bulky rings cover nearly all of his fingers. Tortoise-shell glasses keep his dark hair pinned back—you think that the strands would flop over his forehead if left untamed.
“Welcome, everyone,” Dr. Renault starts, and you turn your attention back to him. He’s standing behind the podium now; there’s a small stack of papers in front of him. “First things first: can you all hear me properly? Or will I need to use a microphone for the duration of this course? I don’t mind.”
A low rumble of responses travel across the room. You shake your head; Margaret and Mateo do the same. You can all hear him just fine.
“Alright,” your professor clears his throat. “My name is Gabriel Renault, but you can call me ‘My Lord’.” He smiles, and the class laughs weakly. Dr. Renault holds out his arm, gesturing to the tattooed man that you’d been studying before. “This is my assistant, Harry. He’ll be grading most of your work this semester, so if you’re looking for someone’s ass to kiss, it should be his.”
Everyone laughs a bit louder this time, including you. Harry steps forward and offers a small smile but doesn’t say anything.
Margaret leans into you. “He’s kind of cute,” she mumbles, shrugging. “In an old-man sort of way.”
“Oh my God.” You cover your mouth and shake your head at her words, but you have to admit that she does have a point. Realistically, Harry can’t be more than four or five years older than you, but the clothes he’s wearing don’t exactly fit the dress code for someone his age. In fact, his outfit looks like something that you could probably have pulled from your grandfather’s closet.
Margaret giggles quietly and recoils, sitting up properly again. When you look back up, your eyes lock immediately with Harry’s. Even from thirty feet away, you can see the mossy green of his irises and feel the intensity of his gaze. A lump forms in your throat, but nonetheless, you shoot him a faint, barely-there smile. He looks away.
Your brows knit together in confusion, but you force yourself to shrug it off. “Bit of a prick,” you breathe to no one in particular.
Mateo looks over at you inquisitively. “What?”
“No, nothing,” you whisper, waving his question away. You turn to face the front again, watching conscientiously as Dr. Renault takes hold of the stack of papers in front of him and splits it into two. He gives one half to Harry before addressing the class.
“Harry and I will be handing out the syllabus for this semester,” he announces. “There will be a short quiz at the end of each class. Don’t worry,” he smiles wryly when quiet murmurs begin surfacing amongst the seats, “They’re only composed of five multiple choice questions. They’ll each count for two percent of your grade; I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but I find that sometimes students will need that two percent to stay afloat in the course.”
“Me,” Mateo mutters quietly. You and Margaret snicker.
“There will be a quiz at the end of today’s lecture,” Dr. Renault continues. “I’ll be going through the syllabus with you for the first half of the class, and then we’ll do a quick review of the content that you should already know.” He and Harry begin distributing copies of the syllabus to each student, coaxing your classmates to pass the papers down their rows.
“So today’s quiz should be relatively straightforward. An easy two percent,” Dr. Renault says, before casting a glance at his assistant. “Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”
Harry nods. “Yes, sir.”
You balk at the huskiness of his tone. The words are impossibly deep and throaty. Margaret stares at you with wide eyes and leans in closer.
“If I could fuck a voice…,” she hisses.
“Shut the hell up,” you retort, trying not to laugh at her candour.
Something nudges your arm; you turn and find Mateo holding out a few copies of the syllabus for you to take. You slip one out from the pile and pass it on, but not before glancing up and spotting Harry standing a few feet away at the end of your row. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. The two of you make eye contact again, but this time, it’s you who turns away first.
“There will be a short paper due next week.” Dr. Renault is speaking again. “Don’t fret—it only has to be seven-hundred-and-fifty words. One thousand is the maximum, though I doubt anyone will want to be writing that much after only the first week of class.” He chuckles to himself. “I’ll go into more detail as we read through the outline of the course. Grades for any tests and assignments will be posted online, but we’ll always give the physical copy back to you so that you can use it to study for the exams.”
A girl in your row raises her hand. When your professor nods at her, she asks, “What exactly did you mean when you talked about a review? Like, what kind of information? Just the basics?”
“Yes,” he replies, his cheeks rounding out as he smiles. “Only the content you learned in the introductory course. I believe they taught a chapter on neuroscience, am I correct?”
Everyone releases a quiet murmur of affirmation. Dr. Renault pushes his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “Excellent,” he says. “So that would be the basics of this course—the three main components of an axon, the chemistry behind an action potential, the parts of the brain and their general functions, etcetera. All of that serves as a foundation for neuropsychology.”
“Okay, thank you,” the girl says. You recognize her—you’ve had a few classes with her, but her name escapes you.
“You’re very welcome.” Dr. Renault beams, and you fight to suppress a smile. He seems so nice—you find yourself predicting that this will quickly become one of your favourite classes.
“Is anyone missing a copy?” Harry pipes up, holding the remaining papers aloft. Your spine stiffens at the guttural rasp of his voice, and you take note of the slow drawl that crawls past his lips.
He has an accent. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Margaret fanning herself in small motions, and you roll your eyes with a soft snort.
When nobody raises their hand, Harry lowers his arm and turns to make his way back to the front of the lecture hall. You train your eyes on him, studying the way his shoulder blades protrude with every slight swing of his arms. His back is broad, tapering off into a narrow waist and long legs.
He’s probably six feet.
You cross your thighs over each other.
“Alright.” Dr. Renault resumes his initial position at the podium. “If you all look at the first page of the syllabus, you’ll find my email, as well as Harry’s. I’ve also taken the liberty of including our office locations and the hours during which we’ll be available. Please don’t hesitate to come in for extra help; it’s what we’re here for.”
“Maybe I’ll head on down to Harry’s office for some extra help,” Margaret murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness lacing her words. You scoff and bump her gently with your elbow. Mateo peers over at the two of you, but you just shake your head.
“She’s being gross again,” is all you say.
He puckers his lips and nods knowingly. “Of course.”
“Are you guys down for a latte at Grounded later?” Margaret pokes her head into the conversation, her voice a bit louder than it should be. You and Mateo shush her; she pouts.
“To answer your question, though,” Mateo says, “Yes.”
“I’ve missed their coffee,” you say wistfully, staring off into nothing. The three of you fall silent, instead deciding to tune in and listen to what Dr. Renault has to say about the layout of the course. Despite your sharp concentration, your ears tingle with the feeling of being watched, and your eyes reflexively fall to the side.
You catch only a glimpse of green, and then it’s over just as quickly as it had begun.
September 11th, 2019
“How much are you willing to bet that Mateo wrote exactly seven-hundred-and-fifty words?”
Margaret cackles. “He probably didn’t even reach the minimum.”
“You’re so mean!” you laugh, turning the corner and zeroing in on the door of your lecture hall. “Have a little faith in him.”
“Let’s wager an iced coffee from Grounded,” she suggests, lifting an eyebrow. You nod and push open the door. The room is full of students buzzing around and chatting. A quick glance upward reveals that Mateo has already reserved three seats in one of the middle rows. You and Margaret climb the steps of the hall and squeeze past a few students sitting right next to the aisle.
“Sorry…excuse us,” you murmur.
“Hey.” Mateo smiles when the two of you finally reach him. You drop down into your chair, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of your face and yawning loudly.
Margaret doesn’t waste any time. “How many words did you end up writing for the paper?”
Mateo grimaces. “Like…seven-hundred. I’m hoping Renault doesn’t actually count them all.”
“Oh, fuck yes!” Margaret beams and points a finger at you. “You lose. I like my iced coffee with a shot of vanilla bean, bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” you groan, batting her hand away before turning back to Mateo. “And technically it’s Harry who’ll be grading them. Hopefully he’s lenient with that stuff.”
Mateo doesn’t seem to have registered your last two sentences; in fact, he disregards your correction completely. His gaze bounces between you and Margaret, creases weaving into his forehead. Eventually, it dawns on him, and he releases an affronted squawk.
“You guys bet on me?”
“I gave you the benefit of the doubt!” you protest, lifting your hands in the air. “Margaret’s the one who—”
“Good morning, everyone!”
Dr. Renault is at the front of the room, standing behind that same podium from last week. He’s wearing a bright red polo shirt and a pair of blue jeans, which makes you smile for absolutely no reason. The colour of his top brings out the rosiness of his cheeks, and when he offers up a bright grin for the class, his teeth appear to be even whiter than normal.
Behind him, Harry’s standing off to the side with his hands clasped at the small of his back. He’s clad in a black button-up and black trousers. The outfit would have been completely appropriate had it not been for the suspenders striping up his sides; the silver buckles on each strap glint teasingly in the light.
“Why does it look like they swapped closets?” Mateo mumbles. You giggle softly.
“The first thing we’re going to be doing this morning,” Dr. Renault says, “is giving back your quizzes from last week. They’re short, so Harry had no trouble getting around to marking all of them. He’ll be handing them back to you in just a moment.”
You wait with a bated breath as Harry pulls a stack of sheets from his messenger bag. He begins calling out names, and each person quickly scrambles up from their seat in order to retrieve their grade. Mateo’s name is one of the first to echo around the room. He grimaces offhandedly at you and mutters something about wishing him luck. You and Margaret make a show of crossing your fingers and holding them up as a proclamation of your support.
Mateo clambers down the steps, graciously accepts his quiz, and folds it up without looking at it. He makes it all the way back to his seat before thrusting the sheet into your hands and averting his gaze. “Tell me what I got,” he pleads. “I can’t look.”
You chuckle at his theatrics before opening up the paper and letting your eyes rake over the mark circled in red. “Perfect,” you say quietly, a small smile playing on your lips. Your friend’s eyes go wide, and then his cheeks split apart with the force of his grin.
“Oh, thank God,” he sighs, slouching back in his chair and rubbing his palms over his face. “That two percent is going to keep my ass from failing. I’m calling it now.”
“You’ll be fine,” you scoff, swatting at him half-heartedly with the hand clutching his quiz. Mateo thanks you as you hand the sheet back, pleating it once more and tucking it into the sleeve on the inside of his binder.
Margaret’s name is called a moment later, and yours follows immediately after. You both look at each other and shrug, standing from your chairs and stumbling through the row. Margaret ends up in front of you; you stare down at your shoes to make sure that you don’t trip down the stairs. Your face heats up at the mere thought of humiliating yourself in front of the class, in front of Dr. Renault, in front of Harry.
In a matter of seconds, you’re standing before him. Margaret moves out of the way and treks back up to where Mateo is waiting, subtly flapping her page around to indicate her mark. You stare at Harry evenly, your gaze never leaving his face—he’s looking down at your quiz, and he’s hesitating.
His apprehension makes you nervous. Had you done poorly?
Eventually, he pulls the paper out of the pile and looks up. His eyes meet yours.
The green of his irises is even more vivid up close. It knocks the wind straight from your chest. You can see the flecks of hazel dotting the area around his pupils, and the way his eyelashes brush along his browbone when he lifts his head. There’s a small mole beneath the corner of his mouth. His lips are full and pink; they look soft.
“Here you are,” Harry says, and for a moment, you’re confused. Here you are, stationed in front of him. Had he been waiting specifically for you?
Then, you realise that he’s got his hand outstretched, offering you the marked quiz clutched between his long fingers.
You’re an idiot.
“Thank you,” you say dumbly.
Your hand brushes his when you pluck the sheet out of his grasp. There’s a cross tattooed on his hand, right above the divot of his thumb. You turn around, and for a moment, you think you hear him say something from behind you—it sounds suspiciously like “good job”—but you shake your head free of the thought. He doesn’t seem like the type.
On your way back up to your seat, you allow yourself to glance at the grade scrawled across the top of the page. A perfect score. You exhale in relief. Your attention is drawn to where a small, messy smiley face has been drawn in red pen. Beneath the doodle, there’s a few words of encouragement:
Well done. Keep it up. H. x
You gnaw on your bottom lip, so focussed on the note that you nearly pass your row. Margaret hisses at you, and you stop cold in your tracks, silently berating yourself. After a few painful moments of squeezing by the other students sitting closer to the aisle, you drop back down into your chair and fold up your quiz quickly.
Had there been a note on Mateo’s quiz?
You can’t remember. Maybe there was, and you’d merely skimmed over it. You don’t want to ask him about it right now, though, because the room is silent save for Harry calling out names and your peers shuffling forward to received their tests.
You lean forward and pull a brand-new notebook from your bag, sneakily slipping your page inside the knapsack and zipping it back up. Neither Mateo nor Margaret make inquiries regarding your grade. It’s like an unspoken rule: you always do well.
The three of you settle into your seats and wait for the lecture to begin.
~*~
“Hi.” You lean forward and shoot the barista a friendly smile. “Can I get a medium iced coffee with one sugar and a shot of vanilla bean?”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Um…” You say, biting your bottom lip. “Actually, can you make it two? That’s it, thanks.”
“That’ll be five dollars and ten cents.”
You fish your wallet out of your bag and produce the correct amount of money. Margaret grins from beside you; you both move down the counter as you wait for your drinks.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can tell you want to brag.”
“That’s what happens when you come to expect too much from Mateo.”
You laugh. “You’re such a bitch.”
“But you’re the one who’s friends with me,” she shoots back, lifting an eyebrow teasingly. Her straight brown hair is braided today, draped over her shoulder and cinched at the bottom with a sparkly pink hair tie. You reach out and play with a loose thread on her sweater before yanking your fingers and snapping it off cleanly. She yelps, but the sound quickly dissolves into laughter.
“How’s Spanish?” you ask wryly, mostly because you’re in the mood to see her fly off the handle.
She scoffs. “Allende is…a demon. It’s only the second week and she’s already fucking killing me.”
“Just drop the class,” you suggest, shrugging your shoulders. “You can always take it next year—maybe she won’t be teaching it, then.”
“I thought about it,” Margaret says, sighing. “But Valentina would murder me. She wanted me to be able to speak the language fluently so I could learn more about our culture and shit. Even if I tell her that I’ll retake the class next year, she’s still gonna flip.”
“That sucks.” You pout and shoot her a sympathetic look. “Valentina should learn to trust her daughter’s judgment.”
A low, hollow laugh echoes in the back of your friend’s throat. “Not likely.”
You try a different approach. “Well, at least you’ve got me—since you’re stuck taking the course, I promise that I’ll listen to all your rants and complaints.”
“Oh, really?” Margaret grins. “Is there an expiration date on that offer?”
“Nope,” you reply, popping the syllable playfully. “This coupon is valid until the end of time.”
“Two medium iced coffees, one sugar and one shot of vanilla bean!”
You and Margaret accept your drinks, sending out quick spiels of gratitude. The barista smiles and tells you to have a good day. As you walk away, your friend guides her straw into her mouth and takes a lengthy, obnoxious sip of her drink. She throws her head back and moans dramatically at the flavour.
“Mhm,” she says, smacking her lips. “It tastes so much better when it’s free.”
“Fuck off,” you laugh, shaking your head. You fix her with a begrudging smile, but something behind her catches your eye. Stupidly, you freeze right in the middle of the basement corridor, the straw of your coffee resting against your parted lips.
Inside the room, Harry’s sitting behind a desk, his tortoise-shell glasses perched on his nose as he rifles through a sizeable stack of papers. There’s a red pen nestled between his fingers, and the sleeves of his black button-up have been rolled a handful of times, leaving his forearms exposed. His tattoos are much clearer now that there’s less distance separating the two of you. You spy an anchor, a rose—
“What are you—?” Margaret scowls and spins around. “Oh.” She turns back to you. “His office is right here? That’s convenient.”
You reluctantly tear your gaze away from Harry so that you can look at her properly. “How so?”
“Well, if he wants to get coffee, he doesn’t exactly have to go very far.” She smirks before taking another sip of her drink. “Plus,” she swallows, “It’s convenient for me, too. I can grab a latte and then pay him a visit right after for some of that extra help.”
She wiggles her brows. You snort.
“You’re ridiculous,” you tell her earnestly. She just giggles, shouldering the strap of her purse and angling her chin to the left.
“Let’s go,” she says. “I really don’t wanna get stuck in traffic again. Last week, it took me, like, two hours to get home.”
“Yikes.” You grimace at the thought, but Margaret’s already pedalling away.
“Come on,” she calls over her shoulder. You follow her, but not before deciding to spare one last glance into Harry’s office.
Your breath hitches in your throat when you find a pair of grassy green eyes staring back at you intently. Harry’s gaze is unwavering; there’s a certain peculiarity about it. It’s searing, like he’s taking you apart piece by piece, unravelling every layer to study what lies beneath. Your skin crawls with the humiliation of getting caught, but something else, too. Anticipation? Exhilaration?
The exchange doesn’t even last a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. Your lips curl up into an uneasy smile as you try to quell the nervous frothing in the pit of your stomach. For a moment—a foolish, optimistic moment—you think that he might actually return your friendly expression.
Harry merely blinks, twirls his red pen over in his fingers, and looks back down.
September 18th, 2019
“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, looking down at your phone. Your class starts in five minutes, and you’ve just made it onto campus. You’d texted Mateo already and kindly asked him to save you a seat, but your eyes are drooping and you’re absolutely exhausted. Before you can even weigh your options, your feet are carrying you down into the basement of the building to retrieve a cup of coffee from Grounded. You can’t even be upset about it—your body clearly knows what it needs, and right now, that need is manifesting itself in the form of a massive dose of caffeine.
You hop in line, pulling up Mateo’s contact and composing a quick message regarding your whereabouts. Before you send it, you ask if he or Margaret would like for you to buy them anything. A short moment later, he replies, assuring you that they both already bought their coffees and are as awake as ever.
You guys didn’t even offer to get one for me? How rude, you type back, a small smirk on your face.
Mateo’s response is instantaneous, like he had already rehearsed what he was going to say.
In our defense, we thought you were dead.
You snort softly and shake your head as the message sinks in. Your phone clicks quietly when you lock it, but as you lift your gaze, you catch sight of an intricate drawing and freeze. Your eyes nearly bulge out from their sockets when you register that the left arm of the person standing in front of you is littered with tattoos.
An anchor.
A rose.
A mermaid, whose chest is on full display in all of its naked glory.
There are countless others, but you don’t have enough time to study each one, because just then, Harry is stepping up to the counter to recite his order.
“Morning, love,” you hear him greet the barista. She blushes profusely and grins at him in return. Your shoulders tense at the gruffness of his voice, and you briefly wonder just how deep it can get.
You don’t catch the rest of the trade, trying to focus instead on anything other than how good Harry’s ass looks in the khakis adorning his legs. He cracks a low joke, and the barista laughs. Smiling slightly, he casts a casual glance over his shoulder, and you stiffen when his eyes land squarely on you. His pleased expression fades.
“Also…,” he says, keeping his gaze on you for a moment longer before turning back to the counter.
You don’t tune in to the remainder of his sentence, mostly because your ears are ringing and your heart is hammering wildly beneath your ribs. Harry pulls a crisp bill from his pocket and hands it over before moving to the side and waiting for his drink. It takes all of your willpower to look at everything except for him. The barista abandons her post at the cash register to prepare his coffee. You stand awkwardly at the beginning of the line, waiting for her to come back.
She finally does after a couple of minutes, greeting you cheerily and subconsciously leaning in so that she can hear your order properly.
“Hi,” you say. “Um, can I get a large vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso?”
“Sure,” she replies, but as soon as you begin to pull your wallet from your bag, she stops you. “Actually,” she says, “The man who was just here paid for you. He gave me a ten and told me to keep whatever was left over.”
“I’m sorry?” You blink.
“The man in front of you,” she elaborates. “The one with the accent.”
Your lips part in surprise. Instinctively, you whip your head to the side, just in time to watch as Harry disappears around the corner.
~*~
You end up being a few minutes late. The sound of the door being pushed open is painfully loud, and you have to conceal an embarrassed cringe when your entrance is met with dozens of faces staring down at you. Dr. Renault is in the process of speaking, but when you walk in, he injects a quick, “Welcome, good morning, pull up a chair!” into the middle of his sentence. You try for a sheepish smile and hope that it comes across as sincere.
“That was humiliating,” you mutter when you finally collapse into the seat next to Mateo. He’d saved you a spot right beside the aisle; you send out a silent prayer of thanks. “This is why I’m never late.”
Your friends both shoot you knowing looks, their features soft with compassion. You sigh quietly, taking a long sip of your latte and trying to shrug off the mortification looming over your head.
“As I was saying,” your professor continues, unperturbed by your brief interruption. “The midterm is next week. It will cover chapters one through three; I trust that everyone has begun reviewing?”
Low murmurs are all that he receives as a response. Dr. Renault chuckles and pushes his glasses further up his nose. “I’ll be going into further detail regarding the exam during the last twenty minutes of today’s class. As for right now, Harry will be handing back your quizzes from last week, as well as the assignments that you all submitted. There were a few bumps, but overall, I think most of you did well.”
And just like that, all eyes fall on Harry. He steps forward, a stack of sheets balanced in the crook of his left arm. He clears his throat and licks the pad of his thumb to effectively grasp the corner of the first page.
“Morning, everyone,” he says huskily. “I’ve paired your quizzes from last week with your papers, so you’ll be getting both at the same time. If you’ve got any questions regarding your grades, please feel free to consult me at the end of today’s lecture.”
That’s the most that you’ve ever heard him speak, you realise.
Harry peers up at the class, his eyes skimming over the rows of students before landing on you. You’re not sure if it’s real, or if your mind is just playing tricks on you, but he seems to stare at you for a beat longer than anyone else. You swallow heavily, hoping that he can’t see the violent bobbing of your throat from down below. A moment later, he calls out a name. The girl in the chair in front of you jumps to her feet, and the spell is broken.
One by one, each undergraduate stands and ambles down the stairs of the lecture hall to retrieve their marks. Margaret’s name is called; Mateo’s follows a few moments later. You smile encouragingly at them and watch as they descend the steps.
You grow nervous as the stack of papers nestled in Harry’s arms begins to dwindle. It’s silly, but whenever your work happens to be located near the end of the queue, you always feel a niggling sense of paranoia biting at the back of your brain. Realistically, you know that your assignment will most likely be present in that pile, but there’s always that small what if.
Finally, though, you hear your name ring out.
You immediately decide that you love the way it sounds exiting Harry’s lips.
You stand, grateful that you don’t have to squeeze past anyone. Maybe you should aim to sit in a seat next to the aisle more often—it’s awfully convenient.
Your heart is thudding wildly in your chest, and as you make your way down to where Harry waits, you grow afraid that he’ll be able to see it pulsing through your shirt.
Don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip.
Fortunately, you reach the bottom stair without a single misstep. Harry’s staring down at your papers, his lips tucked into a thin line. When you clear your throat gently, he looks up at you. Twin pink spots dot his cheeks when he realises that you’ve been standing in front of him for a moment too long. He holds out your assignment and your quiz, the pages held together by a skinny silver clip.
“Thank you,” you say quietly. You hesitate for a second before adding, “And thank you for paying for my—”
“Evan Ross.” Harry cuts you off without blinking, the next name rolling off his tongue seamlessly. You blink in surprise, stiffening. Your mouth pops open as a mixture of shock and hurt washes over you.
Your chest grows tight with emotion, and your eyes burn as you whip around and hurry back up the stairs. You keep your head low as you slide back into your seat; Margaret and Mateo are too absorbed in a hushed conversation to notice the distressed expression on your face, but you don’t mind. In fact, you’re thankful for it.
Your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. Needing a distraction, you unfold the small pile of papers in your hand and glance down at your grades. You’ve achieved a perfect score on your quiz. At the top of the sheet, scrawled in red pen, there’s a smiley face and a brief note:
Well done. Glad to see that somebody’s been paying attention. H. x
You direct your awareness to the written assignment in your other hand. A bright 95% stares back up at you, along with another few words of encouragement:
Very insightful. Great job. H. x
Your eyes narrow. You sit back in your chair; a quiet, incredulous laugh bubbles up in your throat. Luckily, it’s faint enough to avoid being detected by anyone else. You shake your head in disbelief, skimming over Harry’s comments one last time before angrily shoving the pages into your bag. They crinkle loudly—you know that they’ll be all bent out of shape by the time you’ll need to retrieve them, but you don’t care.
You straighten up and risk a glance down to where Harry is still handing assignments and quizzes back to last of your classmates. He smiles at one boy and gives him a reassuring nod before his green eyes stray upward, as though drawn by an invisible magnet. His gaze locks with yours, and the mild curl of his lips quickly flattens out. You clench your jaw and look away, huffing petulantly through your nose.
What a fucking dick.
September 25th, 2019
“I’m not ready,” you declare, slapping your binder down onto the small foldable desk attached to Mateo’s seat. Your friend jumps in surprise, his eyes growing ludicrously wide, and Margaret cackles loudly from beside him. Despite the panic coursing through your veins, you crack a small smile.
“Good morning to you, too,” Mateo grumbles, his shoulders still hunched from your sudden intrusion.
You groan and collapse into the chair next to him, massaging your temples in hopes of avoiding an oncoming headache. The sensation tends to creep up on you, and you’re sure that it’s due to the measly amount of sleep you’d acquired only a few hours prior. Margaret leans over, extending her arm and offering you a sip of her coffee. You take it and flash her a grateful (albeit pained) smile. Her latte is still a bit hot, but that doesn’t stop you from swallowing down a large gulp.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret asks as you hand the cup back over to her. “Did you not study enough?”
“Yeah,” you say, scowling deeply. “The proposal for my experimental psych class was due last night, so I spent pretty much all my time working on that.”
“Don’t worry,” Mateo says. “You always do well, even when you think you won’t—you’ve got this.”
“Thanks,” you mumble nervously, blowing him a meek kiss. You shift closer to him so that you can scan the contents of his open textbook, hoping to memorize a few final facts before the exam starts.
Dr. Renault and Harry walk in a few moments later, both carrying intimidatingly-tall stacks of paper. A hush falls over the classroom—the abrupt silence makes your professor laugh.
“Don’t worry!” he says. “It’s not that difficult, I promise.”
Somehow, you don’t believe him.
In a matter of minutes, the tests have been distributed, and all of the students in the room are sitting with one seat separating them from their neighbours. Dr. Renault announces that he and Harry will be perusing up and down the aisles, ready to answer any questions regarding the exam. Subconsciously, your toes curl in your shoes—you definitely won’t be asking Harry for further clarification, no matter how badly you need it.
“You will have one-hundred-and-twenty minutes to complete the midterm,” your professor says. His smile is supportive, but it does nothing to soothe to anxious knot in the pit of your stomach. “Good luck, everyone.”
With that, you flip to the first page of the packet. The next two hours are filled with the sounds of pencils scribbling on paper, the hushed whispers of Harry and Dr. Renault, and the occasional lone, hacking cough.
October 9th, 2019
You’re sitting in the library with Mateo when your phone buzzes with the notification. You glance down at the screen and gasp loudly when you read the words:
Harry Styles has posted to the forum.
“Mateo!” you hiss. He doesn’t reply. Looking up, you see him bopping his head along to the music playing through his white earphones. He’s twirling a pencil through his fingers absentmindedly and skimming through his neuropsychology textbook. You kick his shin underneath the table.
“Ow!” he yelps. The sound is far too loud, considering that it’s only nine in the morning and you’re both situated in an establishment that demands silence.
“Shh!” you say, frowning slightly. He pulls out one of his earbuds and stares at you with bewildered eyes. You choose to stay tacit, simply holding up your phone and letting him read the notification lighting up the glass screen.
“Okay…,” he whispers, glaring at you. “Why the fuck did that warrant such a hard kick?”
“I’m sorry.” You wince. He’s right. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine.” He waves off your apology before fishing his own cell phone out of his pocket and unlocking it swiftly. Together, the two of you pull up a browser tab and type the name of your school’s website into the search bar. You log into your student accounts and click on your neuropsychology class. The link takes you to the collective forum, and your eyes sweep over Harry’s name at the top—the most recent post. You tap it gently and begin to read.
Hi all,
Attached to this post is a spreadsheet containing your scores on the midterm. In the first column, you’ll find your student number. In the second, I’ve provided your mark as a percentage. As always, I will be available after class today if you have any questions regarding your grade.
See you soon.
Sincerely,
Harry
You hold your breath as you scroll down and open up the spreadsheet linked below his message. After a few prolonged, painful seconds of searching, you find your student number and zero in on the percentage located right beside it. You swear that your heart stops.
62%.
Sixty-two percent.
Your lips part in surprise. You take a long, hard look at the spreadsheet, wondering if maybe you’d landed on the wrong row, but no. Your number is there. And a few pixels away, a dark, insidious 62% stands out in black. You inhale deeply, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating.
“I got a seventy,” Mateo breathes, looking up from his phone and closing his eyes in relief. A moment later, they pop back open. “How about you?”
“A sixty-two,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze from your screen.
He balks. “Come again?”
“A sixty-two,” you restate, a bit louder this time. “I—”
“Don’t panic,” Mateo says immediately, holding up his hand. You finally manage to focus on him, your eyes growing damp with anxious tears.
“Hey,” he says sternly, reaching over and laying a comforting palm on your forearm. “Don’t panic. It’s only worth twenty-five percent, okay? You’re doing really well on the quizzes so far, and you did great on that first paper, too. That was, like, another five percent or something, right?”
“Yeah,” you say, nodding weakly.
Mateo chews on his lips, but his expression is determined. He mimics your nod, though his appears to be a bit more assured. “Okay,” he tells you. “So, here’s what you’re gonna do: you’re gonna go see Harry after class today and set up an appointment so that he can go over the exam with you. And then you’re gonna take in all that information, and you’re gonna ace the final at the end of the semester, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you repeat, but this time, there’s a bit more conviction behind the word. Mateo knows how bad your anxiety can get—he’s caught you in the middle of an emotional breakdown more times than you’d care to admit. But he also knows how to keep you grounded, and he’s almost always able to bring you back down when your thoughts take you elsewhere.
“Thank you,” you tell him, swallowing heavily. “That’s a good idea, I’ll do that.”
“Yes, you will,” he says, and then he sits back and flips his textbook shut. “Come on, let’s go grab a coffee before class. My treat.”
~*~
When you get your exam back, there’s another haphazard note scribbled at the top in red.
It’s okay. I know you’ll do better on the next one. H. x
~*~
As your fist lands the first perfunctory knock on Harry’s door, you find yourself wanting nothing more than to spin around and speed away as fast as you can. Harry lifts his head from where it’s buried inside a book, fixing his gaze on you and cocking his head to the side.
“Hi,” you say nervously. “Um, sorry to bother you. My name is—”
You’re shocked to hear it escape Harry’s lips before you can say it yourself. You clamp your mouth shut and nod silently, too afraid to utter anything else.
“Hi,” Harry replies. His voice is the epitome of a lazy drawl. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering,” you start, pausing to clear your throat. “If—um—if I could talk to you really quickly about my midterm?”
“Sure,” he says, shrugging indifferently. “You can sit.”
As you step forward to position yourself on one of the padded chairs in front of his desk, Harry shuts his book and stands. You can’t stop your eyes from following him. He tucks the hardcover back into a vacant slot on the tall shelf located in the corner of the room.
“You have a lot of books,” you note. Immediately, you want to strangle yourself for letting the observation slip out.
He simply bobs his head. “I like to read.”
“Me too.” God, why the fuck won’t you just shut up?
But when Harry turns back around, you’re shocked to find the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. His gaze locks with yours, and it fades just as quickly as it had come. You swallow forcefully; your mouth feels like a desert.
“Do you have your midterm with you?” Harry asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You look away immediately to keep yourself from ogling his biceps. He’s wearing a dark green crewneck and a pair of khaki pants again. His hair is tousled, like he’s been raking his fingers through it incessantly, and his glasses are tucked into the collar of his shirt. There’s a slight shadow of stubble scattered across his jaw. His lips are flushed a perfect shade of pink; they look smooth and soft.
“Yeah.” You snap out of your stupor and answer him quickly. Leaning down to unzip your bag, you say, “Sorry. It’s right—”
“Why’re you apologising?” Harry asks, creases of confusion etching themselves into his forehead. You pause and peer up at him, your hand buried in your knapsack.
“Sorry?” you ask, afraid that you hadn’t heard him properly.
The corners of his lips jump only slightly. He repeats his question with the same amount of ennui. “Why’re you apologising?”
You blink. “Er…I don’t know, sorry. I mean—!” You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, feeling your cheeks grow warm. Eventually, you give up on searching for the right words, instead pulling your exam out of your bag and thrusting it forward. “Here you go.”
Harry takes the packet from you, bringing it up to his face. He grabs his glasses from where they hang on his chest and slides them onto the bridge of his nose. You look away when his eyes land on the shameful grade scribbled at the top of the first sheet.
“I didn’t do too well,” you say, training your gaze on the floor. “As you can clearly see.”
Harry hums in response. He flips through your midterm quickly, spending only a few seconds on each page. “That’s odd,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
You peek up at him through your lashes. “What’s odd?”
He shrugs. “If I’m remembering correctly,” he begins, fixing his green eyes on you, “You’ve been doing well on the weekly quizzes. So…what went wrong this time?”
You swallow heavily, bringing your hands together in your lap and fiddling with your fingers. “I was working on a research proposal that was due the night before the exam,” you explain timidly. “So, I guess…I just wasn’t able to study as much as I should’ve.”
Harry nods. Quiet ensues. Your attention stays glued to the ground.
“Well—,” he clears his throat. “I can go over it all with you now, if you’d like.”
“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head immediately. “I’ve actually—I’ve got to be somewhere after this.”
It’s a complete lie. You don’t have anything scheduled for later on. But your heart feels like it’s about to give out any second now, and the hairs on your arms are tingling apprehensively. You feel like an idiot, tripping over your words and second-guessing every syllable that leaves your lips. Harry’s unwavering, unforgiving stare is making you want to curl up into a ball and sink into the floor. You can’t imagine any torture greater than spending another minute in this office.
“I see,” Harry says. A long moment passes as you wait for him to say something else; when he doesn’t, you jump in to fill the awkward silence.
“I just came by in hopes of scheduling an appointment,” you rush out. “Is that okay?”
“It’s what I’m here for.” There’s no humour in his tone. You nod, gnawing on your bottom lip.
“What day works best for you?” you prod gently. The air is thick; you don’t think that even the sharpest of knives could slice through the tension. Harry rubs his nose with two fingers and taps his thumb against his lips, lost in thought.
“How does ten in the morning on Monday sound?” he says at last.
“The one coming up?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine,” you tell him. “Thank you so much—I really appreciate it.”
He doesn’t reply, choosing instead to return your exam to you and retire to his chair. You zip your bag back up and sling one strap over your shoulder, standing from your seat and subtly trying to wipe your clammy palms against your thighs.
“Send me an e-mail on Sunday,” Harry says suddenly, drumming his fingers along the smooth surface of his desk. Your eyes are drawn to the gaudy rings on his hands, the jewellery glinting alluringly in the light of his office.
“Regarding what?” you ask, your brows knitting together.
“The appointment. Just as a reminder,” he states, shrugging his shoulders placidly. “I’ll put it in my calendar too, but you can never be too prepared.”
“Right,” you say, nodding. “Okay, I will. Thank you again.”
“It’s no problem.” Harry pauses for a moment before adding, “Take care.”
A bit of the stiffness in your body trickles away at his words—is it possible that he’s beginning to warm up to you?
“Have a good rest of your week,” you say as you start to back away toward the door. Against your better judgment, you offer up a small, friendly smile.
Your feet carry you a few steps further; you attempt to restrain yourself from shooting him one last glance before you turn to face the other way (though of course, you can’t resist.) You think you see the corners of Harry’s lips twitch, but you don’t stay long enough to reflect on it.
Only once you leave his office do you decide that it was merely your eyes playing tricks on you. If majoring in psychology has taught you anything, it’s that humans are extremely unreliable creatures.
Sometimes, we only see what we want to see, you think. The words tumble through your head in the form of a dynamic mantra, echoing continuously until you stagger outside and into the comforting hold of the cool autumn air.
October 13th, 2019
No matter how many times she tries, Margaret cannot down a shot without cringing after swallowing. She always declares that this time will finally be it, that she’ll throw the alcohol back without so much as a grimace, but both you and Mateo know by now that it’s all just nonsense. Her countless attempts are the main reason for her eventual, inevitable inebriation whenever you all decide to go out for drinks.
“Fuck!” Margaret yelps, squeezing her eyes shut and wincing radically as the vodka burns its way down her throat. She reaches for the glass of water standing a few inches away and takes a desperate swig. You and Mateo laugh as she pounds her fist against the table in frustration. You’re sitting across the table from your two friends, the three of you nestled comfortably in one of the booths lining the wall of the pub.
“Told you,” Mateo says dryly, shooting Margaret a wry smirk. She shakes her head and smacks her lips together.
“No, let’s do one more,” she says, her voice taking on a pleading quality. “It’ll be this next one, I swear.”
“Slow down,” you tell her, holding your hand up. Even from a few feet away, you can see the dilation of her pupils and the rosy flush on her cheeks. She’s never been good at pacing herself, and you really don’t feel like ending the night with your hands in her hair as she retches over the toilet.
Margaret pouts; Mateo grins knowingly at you, the thin gold chain around his neck glinting against his dark skin. You’re all a bit buzzed, and though your friends want to continue, you don’t intend to get plastered tonight. There’s a nagging voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that you’ve got your appointment with Harry tomorrow morning, and you want to be as alert and attentive as possible.
You’d sent him an e-mail earlier this evening, right before the taxi had pulled up into the parking lot of your apartment complex. The correspondence had been simple, just a quick verification of the day and time, followed by a short closing remark and your name. You’d snapped your laptop shut as soon as the message had gone through, willing yourself to tuck the thought of it away into a dark, incognizable corner of your brain.
“Did—?” Mateo hiccups quietly and swallows. “Did you guys hear that Grounded is closing down?”
“What?” You and Margaret both nearly snap your necks to gape at him.
“Not permanently!” he backtracks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Just for a couple of weeks! They’re doing renovations in the basement, remember?”
“I knew that,” you say, cocking your head to the side. “But I didn’t know they were doing them there—I thought they’d just closed off the area near the biology labs.”
“I guess not.” Mateo purses his lips, and Margaret pouts.
“How am I gonna survive without their coffee?” she moans, her shoulders deflating.
You shrug and trail your finger around the rim of your water. The glass is clouded with condensation, drops trailing down the side and dampening the coaster lying underneath. “There’s always Starbucks,” you say, though the suggestion is lackadaisical, unenthusiastic. “But the closest one is halfway across campus.”
“Exactly.” Margaret sulks, placing her elbow on the table and propping her chin up on her fist. “How the fuck am I supposed to stay awake in Spanish, now?”
“Pop some modafinil,” Mateo mutters under his breath. You look at him with wide eyes and burst into laughter a second later. He grins; Margaret elbows him in the ribs, but even she can’t suppress the small smile that creeps up onto her face.
“I’m serious!” she says, her voice shaking with the ghost of a giggle. “Even for neuro, like…I don’t know how I’m gonna get through it.”
“Neuro is at ten in the morning,” you stress, lifting your eyebrows in disbelief. “Just be grateful that it’s not an eight o’clock class—if that were the case, you’d really be fucked.”
Margaret raises one shoulder lazily and rolls her eyes. You lean forward and take a sip of your water, humming appreciatively when the cool liquid runs down your throat and fans out across your chest.
“Speaking of neuro,” Mateo starts, running a hand through his dark, kinky hair, “How did you guys do on the quiz from last week? The one on cognitive processing and perception.”
“I only got one right,” Margaret snorts, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I was kind of zoning out during the lecture, to be honest.”
“Shocker,” you tease. She scoffs in mock-offense, and you flash her a smile to tell her that you’re only joking. You turn to Mateo. “I think I got, like, three out of five,” you say, squinting your eyes and puckering your lips. “Not my best work.”
“It’s still a pass,” he replies, winking playfully.
You chuckle and nod. “True. Plus—,” you tap your nails against your glass and make a vague gesture with your other hand, “—Harry’s nice little notes are always a bit of a confidence boost, you know what I mean?”
When your question is met with silence, you look up from the table with cinched brows and puzzled eyes. Both Margaret and Mateo are gawking at you, their lips parted and their expressions ripe with confusion. Subconsciously, your mouth twists down into a frown; you sit back against the padded material of the booth.
“What?”
“Harry…,” Margaret shakes her head, tucking a silky strand of hair behind her ear. “Harry doesn’t write nice little notes for us.”
“What?” you say, creases digging into your forehead. “No, I mean—the comments he leaves on the quizzes and stuff! You know, like, right at the top of the page?”
“He’s never left a comment on any of my quizzes,” Mateo tells you. He turns to Margaret. “Has he done that for you?”
“No,” she says, pursing her lips. “Not at all.”
Something inaudible passes between them, and when they both look back at you, they’re trying to hide their amused expressions. The scowl on your lips deepens, pulling at the muscles in your cheeks and making your face grow sore.
“Why the fuck are you guys looking at me like that?” you ask, fed up with their cryptic behaviour.
Margaret scoffs loudly and barks out your name. It’s enough to grab your attention, and when you glare at her, she beams wickedly and hisses, “He’s trying to fuck you!”
You can’t help it—you laugh. Margaret’s grin fades, and Mateo cocks an eyebrow at you, waiting for your glee to subside. After a long moment, your giggles dwindle, and you smile across the table at your friends. They remain frozen, still as bewildered as ever. Their silence aggravates you; in a matter of seconds, you’re glowering at them.
“You can’t be serious,” you deadpan, looking at them with blank eyes. “The only time Harry’s ever really spoken to me was when I went to schedule that stupid appointment! I swear to God, he avoids me like I’ve got the plague.”
“Maybe’s he’s avoiding you because he likes you,” Margaret suggests. Her brown irises twinkle with mischief.
A disdainful sound bubbles up in your throat and flops out of your mouth. “Not likely.”
“Why else would he write you little notes, then?” she demands, and you hate to admit it, but she has a point. You’ve got no idea why Harry’s trademark scribbles are always at the top of your tests and assignments, especially since he seems to intent on evading you whenever the two of you happen to cross paths. You chew furiously on the inside of your cheek, only able to offer up a half-hearted shrug.
“We don’t even know if I’m the only one,” you say. “He could be doing it for some other people, too—let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Margaret and Mateo snicker. You glare daggers at them. Mateo is the first to fix you with a semi-apologetic smile.
“Sorry,” he tells you, his teeth gleaming in the low lighting of the bar. “It’s just—Margaret might be onto something.”
“She’s not,” you say flatly.
Margaret releases an offended squawk, pinning you beneath her stern gaze. “Hey!” she squeaks, pouting indignantly and pointing her index finger at you. “Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean—”
She breaks off right in the middle of her sentence, her eyes growing outrageously wide when they land on something behind you. You tilt your head to the side and scratch your cheek, afraid that maybe she’s noticed a spot or a new blemish blossoming on your face. But then she squeals, her hand shooting to the side so that she can deliver several excited slaps to Mateo’s arm.
“Holy shit! Speak of the fucking devil!”
Everything clicks into place, then, and your jaw drops. You spin around in your seat so quickly you’re surprised that your vision doesn’t go blurry. After a quick sweep of the room, you find the thing—or rather, the person—that has Margaret losing her mind.
Harry’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt and a pair of black, high-waisted, extremely baggy trousers. The pant legs are comically wide, but somehow, he makes it work. His hair is fluffy, and his sneakers are pristine, not a speck of dirt in sight. Something shiny glints near his waist and catches your attention; you find the patterned frame of his glasses peeking out of one of his pockets. Briefly, you wonder if he’s cold—it’s a bit of a chilly evening, and he doesn’t appear to be sporting a jacket.
“He looks good,” Mateo notes.
You and Margaret swivel your heads around and stare at him. He shrugs. “What? It’s just an observation!”
And despite the panic simmering in the pit of your stomach, you laugh softly. You’re about to settle back into the booth and hope for the best, but then Margaret lifts her arm in a frantic wave and shouts, “Harry!”
Your lips part in shock. She must be drunker than you thought.
“Margaret!” you whisper furiously, ducking down and gaping at her. You’re no longer facing Harry, but you get the feeling that he heard his name, because Margaret giggles, twiddles her fingers, and curls her hand in a beckoning gesture. You place your elbows on the table and bury your face into your palms, too embarrassed to look up.
“Oh my God,” Mateo mutters. “He’s coming over here.”
And sure enough, after a few long, painful moments, Harry is standing in front of the table.
“Er, hi,” he says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
Mateo offers him a small smile; Margaret beams widely.
“Hi!” she says cheerily. “Sorry, this might be weird because you don’t know us. I’m Margaret, this is Mateo, and this is—”
Just as he had done in his office, Harry breathes your name before it’s uttered. Margaret stops speaking immediately and mashes her lips together to suppress a giant grin. Mateo catches your gaze from across the table; his eyes are the size of tennis balls. You want to groan—subtlety is most definitely not their forte.
“Um, yeah,” you reply. You glance up at Harry momentarily before looking away. “Hi.”
A beat of silence ensues.
“So, Harry,” Margaret jumps in. Her tone is a bit too loud, but it’s not noticeable over the mindless chatter echoing in the pub. “What brings you here?”
Harry shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just out for drinks with a few of my mates.”
“‘Mates’,” Margaret parrots, lowering her voice and putting on a horrible accent. You gawk at her as she giggles. “That sounds like fun—we’re doing the same thing! What’s your favourite type of alcohol? I like vodka.”
“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, shaking your head imperceptibly. When you look back up, you find Harry’s eyes sweeping across your face. A coy smirk dances on his lips.
You take note of the dimple that carves itself into his cheek and groan inwardly. Just when you thought that he couldn’t get any more attractive…
“I’m more of a whiskey guy, myself,” he says. His shoulders relax a bit; the tension in his body visibly melts away. Though Margaret is the one who had gotten you into this mess in the first place, you suddenly find yourself thankful for her presence. It’s easier to socialize when you’re around someone who makes it their mission to inject comedy into a conversation.
“I’m going to go grab us another round,” you announce gently, making a move to slide out of the booth. Before you stand, you look over at your friends. “What do you guys want?”
“I thought you said we had to slow down,” Margaret says, shooting you a confused frown.
“I changed my mind. What do you want?”
“Just a root beer for me,” Mateo says, trying to hold in a laugh.
“Another shot of vodka!” Margaret cheers, throwing her arms up. She sighs and leans her head on Mateo’s shoulder; he pets her hair, humouring her. She hums and speaks the words that she promises before every drink. “I’ll do it this time. I won’t even wrinkle my nose.”
“Okay,” you say with a curt nod. You stand and face Harry, hesitating only for a second before murmuring, “Well, it was nice to see—”
“Harry!” Margaret suddenly cuts in, drowning out the rest of your sentence. “Would you be a doll and go with her? I don’t think she’ll be able to carry all of our drinks back by herself.”
“I—,” Harry glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, sure.” His throat bobs when he turns and asks you, “That alright with you?”
No!
You want to scream your refusal at him, and then leap across the table and pummel Margaret with hard, closed fists. But instead, you merely purse your lips and bob your head once. “Yup. Let’s go.”
~*~
“Hi.” You smile at the bartender and lean your forearms against the counter. “Can I get a root beer, a shot of vodka, and a vodka cranberry, please?”
She nods, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and giving you a thumbs-up. You exhale deeply as she bustles away to prepare the drinks. Your skin is prickling with nerves, hyperaware of the fact that Harry is standing right next to you. Casting a furtive glance around the pub, you gnaw on your bottom lip. Harry’s friends are sitting on the other side of the room; they’ve claimed a booth as well. A few of them are piled atop each other as they all struggle to squeeze in. The sight makes you chuckle.
“So,” you hear from beside you. Harry’s gaze is steady as he rubs his fingers against his chin. “What did your friend mean when she said that she wouldn’t wrinkle her nose?”
The question is so arbitrary and out of the blue that it pulls an involuntary laugh from your mouth.
“Oh, Margaret?” you ask. When Harry nods, you continue. “She just sucks at taking shots. She pulls a face every time, so whenever we drink, she always tries to stop herself from doing it. It never works, though.”
Harry smirks. You look away. A few long seconds draw out before he speaks again.
“They seem nice,” he tells you. When you cock an eyebrow at him questioningly, he elaborates. “Your friends, I mean.”
“Oh.” You dip your chin. “Yeah, they’re great.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but just then, the blonde bartender returns with the drinks you’d ordered, setting them down onto the counter in front of you. “Anything else?” she asks, drumming her fingers on the surface of the bar. Your eyes are drawn to the low cut of her top.
“That’s all, thanks,” you declare, but then you pause. “Actually…,” you decide, and you turn to Harry. “Do you want anything?”
He balks, slightly stunned. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and you suppress a small smile—that’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen him.
“No, no,” Harry assures you. “I’m alright.”
“I insist,” you say, and there must be something powerful in your gaze, because he just purses his lips and forfeits his repudiation.
“Er, I’ll just have a coke, then.”
You and the bartender both nod simultaneously. In less than thirty seconds, she’s got his drink standing alongside the others on the counter. “That’ll be eighteen dollars,” she tells you. You unzip your wallet and hand her the exact change before taking a quick sip of your vodka cranberry.
“I’m surprised you didn’t order whiskey,” you joke lightly, peeking over at Harry. He lifts the rim of his glass and takes a hearty gulp of his soda, licking his lips once he swallows.
“I—,” he begins, shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t drink.”
“Oh, really?” You cock your head to the side. “Why not?” A moment later, you backpedal hastily. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I used to drink a lot while I was doing my undergrad. Like, a lot. Shit happened, and I ended up needing to get my stomach pumped. After that, I just kind of…made the decision to lay off.”
“I see.” You falter. “Was it difficult?”
Harry nods, but only barely. He suddenly seems much more interested in the shiny floorboards of the bar. “Yeah, it was. But it was for the best. I’m here now, and I’m a teaching assistant for two classes, so I’d say things worked out pretty well.”
“Two classes?”
“Yeah. Neuropsychology, and then Doctor Chen’s psychopathology class,” he tells you.
“I was actually thinking of taking that,” you confess. “It looks really interesting.”
“It is.”
Though your mouth is dry, you hold up your vodka cranberry. “Well, then…cheers to you. That’s definitely something to be proud of.”
Harry gazes at you through his lashes and lifts his own drink, clinking your glasses together. The two of you take a sip at the same time; his eyes hold onto yours over the rim of his cup. You’re the first one to look away, your heart hammering as you reach out to grab Margaret’s shot. Harry mimics you and wraps his fingers around Mateo’s root beer.
“What’s your favourite drink?” he inquires, his grassy eyes alert. You pause.
“Probably tequila,” you say eventually. “It goes down smoother than anything else, I’ve found. Plus, it doesn’t take much for it to fuck me up.”
A low chuckle slips from Harry’s lips. Your thighs clench together at the sound.
“Guess I’ll have to buy you a shot of tequila later,” Harry tells you, leaning against the bar. “To repay you.”
You can hear the blood thundering in your ears. There’s an odd, fluttery sensation in your chest. You aren’t sure of whether it’s excitement, or anxiety, or perhaps both. All you know is that this is uncharted territory for you. You think that maybe it’s because of the pub and the atmosphere it provides: something laid-back and nonchalant. Harry has never spoken to you like this—like you’re a friend. You have no clue how to feel about it, so you settle for simply hoping that you won’t accidentally say the wrong thing and dash all of the progress you’ve made.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you answer, shaking your head. “I think that this was me repaying you for that coffee you bought me a while back. Do you remember?”
Bringing up his previous act of generosity makes you nervous; he’d swiftly cut you off the last time you’d tried to thank him for the latte. But—much to your surprise—his features don’t harden when your words sink in. You watch as his brows knit together for only a moment before a spark of recognition flickers in his eyes.
Harry’s expression opens up as the memory dawns on him, like petals from a rosebud. “I do.”
You shoot him a tight smile. “See? So now we’re even.”
He smirks. “I guess we are.”
You swallow down the lump in your throat and lift your chin in the direction of where your friends are still waiting. “Shall we?”
He nods, holding out his arm and inviting you to take the lead.
Your feet have only carried you a few steps when you hear someone call out, “Wait!”
Instinctively, both you and Harry spin around. The blonde bartender is back, raking her fingers through her hair and sliding a napkin across the counter. She’s looking at Harry, a roguish smile twisting her mouth upward. When he leans forward to accept her offering, you catch a glimpse of a series of numbers written across the serviette in black ink. Something in your stomach drops grossly; you turn to avoid witnessing Harry’s reaction and hastily speed away.
Margaret claps her hands excitedly when you return with her drink. Mateo looks at you inquisitively.
“Where’s Harry?”
“He’s coming,” you mumble, refusing to meet your friend’s eyes. You remain standing as you take a long sip of your vodka cranberry. Mateo’s lips curve down into the smallest of frowns, like he can sense that something is off with you. Thankfully, he doesn’t pry.
A moment later, Harry appears beside you, holding out the glass of root beer in his left hand. “Sorry, mate,” he apologises to Mateo. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Okay!” Margaret exclaims, rubbing her hands together and staring intently at the shot of vodka resting on the table in front of her. “I’m gonna do it!”
Mateo grins at her, giving her the type of smile that you’d offer to a child who’s just done something endearing. You snicker silently.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up when Harry turns to you and lays a large hand on your forearm. You stop breathing as he leans in close and whispers against your ear, “Is this the part where she…?”
The words are warm against your skin. A violent shudder races down your spine. In response, you can only muster a nod and a high-pitched, “Mhm.”
He chuckles lowly before pulling away.
Margaret downs the shot, and you, Harry, and Mateo all laugh when her face collapses into a vicious grimace. She’s still grumbling about her failed attempt when Harry states that he should be getting back to his friends on the other side of the bar.
“Have a nice night, you lot.” He shakes Mateo’s hand and shoots Margaret a small smile. He then turns to you, his gaze locking with yours. Your cheeks tingle hotly.
“And, you…,” Harry murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You nod, swallowing with some difficulty. When the words finally make it out of your mouth, they’re wobbly and forced.
“See you tomorrow.”
~*~
Around one in the morning, you and your friends have decided that it’s time to put an end to the night. Even Margaret is ready to go home.
“I’ve got to be up early tomorrow, anyway,” you explain to her. “My meeting with Harry is at ten.”
“Right.” Margaret nods knowingly and wiggles her brows. “Your meeting. Are you guys gonna fuck in his office?”
“Margaret!”
“What?” she laughs, gathering her hair into a low ponytail. “That would be so hot!”
You shake your head. Mateo pinches the bridge of his nose. The three of you head toward the exit of the pub, passing by the large group made up of Harry’s friends. They all seem to be having a great time, absorbed in a flurry of conversation and laughter. You scan each face quickly, frowning when you note that Harry isn’t among them. He must’ve gone to grab another soda, you decide, or perhaps he had to use the washroom. Either way, you don’t dwell on his absence.
You wrap your windbreaker around your body as you step out into the chilly October air. Beside you, Mateo sighs—his breath emerges as a small, foggy cloud.
“Do you guys want me to call an Uber?” he asks. He shoots Margaret a pointed glare. “Or are you gonna do it this time, you cheapskate?”
“Excuse you,” Margaret protests, still sloshed. “I’m not a cheapskate!”
“You’re literally the stingiest person I know,” Mateo deadpans. She squawks.
While the two of them bicker, you glance around and take in your surroundings. The road in front of you is dark and quiet, disturbed only by the occasional car. There are squished wads of gum, burnt cigarette butts, and haphazard attempts at graffiti littering the sidewalk. The streetlights bathe you in a warm, orange glow. About twenty feet away, a man and a woman are engrossed in a series of heavy kisses.
You pause. Your eyes narrow.
Holy shit.
“Fine!” Margaret yells, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll call the Uber!”
She’s too loud.
Her voice carries through the air.
Lips parting, you watch in horror as Harry detaches his mouth from the bartender’s neck and turns his head toward the noise. His eyes land on your face, and your chest seizes up in panic. In the millisecond that passes before you look away, his features morph from an expression of surprise to that of shame.
You whip around, nearly snapping your neck.
“Actually,” you say shrilly, interrupting Margaret and Mateo’s squabble. “Let’s hit up one more place. I’m not ready to head home just yet.”
Your friends stare at you, mystified.
“Okay…,” Margaret says slowly. “Why don’t we just stay here, then?”
“No!” you blurt before you can stop yourself. The divot between Margaret’s eyebrows deepens. Her pupils bounce from side to side in drunken confusion, but then her gaze lands on the person behind you that you know is Harry, and she gasps.
“Fuck,” she whispers. You glue your eyes to the floor.
Mateo is gawking, too, now. You shake your head and reach for the pair of them, wrapping your fingers around their arms and guiding them further away from the scene. “Let’s just go,” you murmur quietly. The words taste sour on your tongue.
“What—?” Margaret turns back to you, her nostrils flaring angrily. You find solace in knowing that she’s equally as upset as you are. “What do you wanna do?”
You shrug, too overrun with humiliation to meet her eyes. Mateo wraps a protective arm around your shoulder, and you busy yourself with ogling the buttons on his coat. Your throat is tight with emotion, ears ringing relentlessly.
“Can we go somewhere else?” you ask weakly—your friends are nodding before you’ve even finished the question. “I want to get fucked up.”
October 14th, 2019
Your head hurts.
Standing in front of Harry’s office, you wish that you’d forgone that final shot of tequila. Your stomach churns uneasily even now—hours later—and you find yourself struggling to recall certain points from last night. You don’t remember much, but what you do know is that Margaret hadn’t ended up being the one hunched over the toilet at three in the morning.
Where the fuck is he?
The door is locked, leaving you no choice but to stand outside in the hall and lean against the wall for support. Your eyes are puffy and red from lack of sleep. You’re fairly certain that your cheeks are swollen, too. You’d cried yourself into a fitful slumber just as the sun began to rise.
You touch your face; your skin feels grainy thanks to the tears that had escaped your eyes and soaked through the cotton of your pillowcase.
You check your phone and bite your lip. It’s a quarter past ten.
Harry is never late.
You’ll wait another ten minutes, you conclude, and if he doesn’t show up, you’ll just go home.
Only a minute after you settle on the decision, the squeaky sound of shoes slipping against polished tiles reaches your ears. You turn toward the sound just in time to watch Harry skid around the corner. Before you can stop yourself, your brows shoot up in dry disbelief.
He’s a mess.
“Hi,” Harry says, slightly out of breath. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
He’s wearing a pair of brown corduroy trousers that sit lopsided on his hips and a white button up tucked beneath a tan-coloured sweater vest. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up unevenly, and the vest itself is wrinkled near the hem. His tortoise-shell glasses are crooked on his face; his hair is disheveled. That same messenger bag is slung over his body, but there’s also a disorganized, rumpled pile of papers in his arms. A loose sheet slips from his grasp and flutters to the floor.
“Shit,” Harry mutters. Silently, you bend down, pick up the page, and hold it out to him. He grunts, wrestling one hand free to accept it. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Your words are monotone; you refuse make eye contact with him.
Harry digs his fingers into his pocket and produces a set of keys. They jingle cheerfully as he jams one into the lock on the door and twists it to the side—you wince at the loud noise. A telling click echoes through the air. With a gentle push, the door swings open.
“Ladies first,” Harry mumbles. Forcing your chin up, you walk into his office.
The room is very different compared to how it had been a few days ago. It’s emptier. A couple of boxes are strewn across the floor, packed up with supplies. All that’s left on Harry’s bureau now is a red pen and a desktop computer. Even the tall bookshelf in the corner of the room is bare, void of all the novels that it had previously housed. You cock your head to the side, nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.
“Sorry about the mess,” Harry says, shutting the door and staggering over to his desk. He plops the pile of papers onto the corner of the table and collapses into his rolling chair. “Renovations start the day after tomorrow, so I’ve been clearing out my essentials.”
“All of your books are essential?” you mutter, gingerly taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs across from him. You don’t intend for him to hear the question—it’s actually more of a taunt, if you’re being honest—but he does.
“I like to read.” He shrugs.
You unzip your bag and rustle around for your midterm. “Me too.”
When you finally retrieve the exam, you pull it out and look up at him for the first time that day. His lips twitch almost indiscernibly, and it’s a soft, mocking lilt when he says, “I know.”
It dawns on you, then, that you’ve already had the same conversation in this exact spot. Your face grows hot, but you compel yourself to shake off the embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you slide your midterm onto his desk in hopes of changing the subject. “Here you go.”
Harry’s eyes fall to the packet.
“Right,” he says, tucking himself in closer. He licks his lips, turning it to the side and opening it up to the first page of questions. “You can see it like this, yeah?”
You nod, placing your elbows on his desk and slyly trying to massage your temples with two fingers—your headache seems to have only gotten worse.
“Okay.” Harry shifts in his seat and points to the third question on the sheet. “This answer here was B. The common name for fluoxetine is Prozac.”
“Got it,” you say, nodding solemnly. You feel silly for having forgotten something as simple as a type of medication.
Harry’s eyes skim the paper before he shifts his finger to the bottom of the page. “And this one here—,” he starts, “The motor cortex is located in the frontal lobe, just before the central sulcus.”
“Oh, shit.” You cringe, pinching the bridge of your nose. “The one in the parietal lobe is the somatosensory cortex, right?”
“Exactly.”
You shake your head, and then immediately regret doing so—it feels like someone is drilling screws into your skull. “What a stupid mistake.”
“It’s not, really,” Harry says, scratching the underside of his jaw. “The parietal lobe tends to be responsible for processing sensory information—some of it is visual, but most of it is tactile. And because of that, it’s really easy to get it mixed up, because we tend to associate touch with movement.”
“That’s exactly what I did,” you admit, pursing your lips.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. You’re learning—that’s the point.”
You glance up at him and find his eyes trained on you. It’s like he’s trying to convey something unspoken, but you don’t quite know what it is. Your throat bobs with a heavy swallow, and you force yourself to look away.
“Next page,” you urge softly. Harry obliges.
He places his finger beside the first question at the top. “This answer was D—all of the above. Because yeah, cerebrospinal fluid is produced by the ependymal cells, but those are located in the choroid plexuses, which, in turn, are found in the ventricles.” He puckers his lips. “It was a bit of a trick question.”
“No kidding.”
Harry’s lips curl grimly.
He’s in the middle of explaining the next error on your exam when your stomach flips and the top of your throat pulses dangerously. You sit back in your seat, one hand flying to your belly while the other shoots up to cover your mouth. Harry looks up at you quizzically; his expression softens when he absorbs your wide, terrified eyes and your hunched shoulders.
“Are you gonna be sick?” he asks quickly, straightening up.
At that exact moment, the nausea passes. The tension melts from your body, and your chest visibly deflates. You exhale quietly; your hand drops from where it had been shielding the lower half of your face.
Nervously, you peer up at Harry, only to find him regarding you with a blank expression. His lips are tucked into a thin line, and his stare is shallow and emotionless. You open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it.
“You’re hungover,” he states flatly. There’s no humour lacing the words.
“I—,” you grit your teeth. “Yeah, I am.”
Harry sighs regretfully, sinking back in his chair. He hooks his finger into the collar of his shirt and twists it around to loosen the material. Your lips part in shock, eyes nearly bulging out of your head.
“And you’re marked up,” you exclaim before you can stop yourself.
Harry’s brows knit together in confusion. As soon as the realisation strikes, though, he sits up straight, his nostrils flaring with a sharp inhale. His hand flies to cover his throat, but it’s too late—you’ve already seen them.
A number of dark, splotchy purple marks stand out against the smooth, tan skin of his neck. You’re not sure how many there are in total, and you don’t think that you want to know. Harry’s staring at you, his expression severe. You can’t tear your gaze away from his face—it feels like an eternity passes before either of you says anything.
“I think…,” Harry speaks slowly, his eyes flitting from side to side as he studies your features. “We should reschedule.”
“Good idea,” you breathe.
“And I think,” he adds, still using the same tone, “That we should both agree to keep this entire ordeal…confidential.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Deal.”
You can’t help it, then—you snort once before dissolving into laughter. Though bewildered creases dig into Harry’s forehead, the corners of his lips slowly curve up into a smile. Before long, he’s joining you in your amusement, his chest vibrating with deep, rumbling chuckles. His blocky front teeth latch onto his bottom lip, and he covers his mouth with his fingers in an attempt to subdue the sounds.
Deep in your abdomen, you can feel a tight little ball of jealousy festering. It had been conceived yesterday upon seeing the bartender slip Harry that napkin, and it had grown once you’d witnessed him kissing her outside of the pub. The hickies on his neck should be sending you into a downward spiral, but the hilarity of your current situation is enough to overshadow the ugliness—at least for the time being.
Later, you know that you’ll probably feel sick to your stomach, but you’ll just choose to blame it on the surplus of alcohol from last night.
“Wait, wait,” you say, rubbing your palm over your cheek. There’s a small smile on your lips, and your shoulders tremble with silent giggles. “What—when do you want to meet, then? Didn’t you say that renovations are starting soon?”
“Oh, shit.” Harry’s face falls immediately. He frowns in thought. “Does tomorrow work? I’ll be here in the afternoon.”
“I’ve got class until noon, and then I’ve got to leave for a dentist appointment at one,” you say mournfully.
Harry curses under his breath. You rub your hands together anxiously, watching him come to the realisation that you’re both out of options. He pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, gazing down emptily at the exam still splayed out on the desk.
“Okay,” he murmurs. He looks up at you, speaking with a bit more conviction. “Come over to my place on Wednesday, then.”
The look of unapologetic shock on your face must be priceless, but Harry holds his ground. The gears in your mind immediately kick into overdrive; you try to quell the noise—it’s only going to make your headache worse. You look at Harry, hoping that he can’t see the way you’ve just swallowed down the hard lump in your throat.
“Your place,” you echo dumbly. “On Wednesday.”
Harry nods assuredly. “Yeah.”
It’s taking everything in you to steer clear of an overreaction. Harry’s suggesting it because he wants to help you improve in time for the final exam—he’s just trying to do his job. You don’t want to be the one to make it weird. There’s a certain kind of maturity to his idea, you think, and you want to show him the ease with which you can meet him on that level.
“Are you sure?” you ask. “I don’t want to, like, impose.”
“I’m sure.” His reply is firm. “You’re not imposing. I told you that I’d go over the midterm with you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
You nod, rubbing your clammy hands against your thighs. “Okay.”
“Perfect,” Harry says. He reaches forward and folds your exam closed before sliding it back to you. “Can you make it for, let’s say, six in the evening?”
“Um, alright.” You hesitate. “Where exactly do you—?”
“I’ll e-mail you my address,” Harry promises before you can finish your question. You clamp your mouth shut, nodding again. You don’t miss the delicate curl of his lips, or the shallow, nearly invisible crinkles that appear at the corners of his eyes. You stand up, slipping your midterm back into your bag and tugging on the zipper to ensure that it stays secure.
“Okay, well…,” you look at him through your eyelashes, too afraid to fix him with a proper stare. “Have a good day, then.”
He shoots you a tight, pained smile. You wonder if he’s already regretting his offer.
“You too.”
And for the second time in less than a week, you find yourself exiting Harry’s office with a muddy mind, sweaty palms, and a racing heart.
October 15th, 2019
“You’re going to his house?” Margaret shrieks.
You wince and bury your face into your palms. The half-eaten plate of gnocchi that you’d ordered is pushed off to your right, abandoned. Margaret stabs her lasagna with her silver fork, shovelling a piece past her lips and chewing frantically. “What were you thinking?” she demands through a mouthful of pasta.
In the dim lighting of the restaurant, her gaze is piercingly judgmental.
“I was thinking about my grade!” you retort defensively. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. “And I didn’t want to be the one to make it awkward. Like, if he’s suggesting it, that obviously means that he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. So, if I get all freaked out, then I just end up looking like a child.”
Your friend turns your words over in her head, tilting her chin from side to side in acknowledgement. “I get that,” she says, swallowing her food. “But I’m still fucking upset about the other night.”
“You and me both,” you mumble, averting your gaze.
“Hey,” Margaret says sternly, fixing you with a strict glare. “You’re not allowed to feel embarrassed about that. You did nothing wrong—he’s just a dick.”
“He’s not a dick,” you tell her, a hint of admonishment creeping into your words. “And it’s not like he asked me out before hooking up with her. There’s no valid reason for me to be mad about this.”
“Say that again,” Margaret warns, pointing her fork in your direction, “And I’ll punch you straight in the tit.”
You snort.
“I still want you to sleep with him,” she says casually, popping another bite of lasagna into her mouth. “But if he wants my forgiveness, it better be a phenomenal fuck.”
“Margaret!”
“What? I’m just telling it like it is!”
“Jesus Christ.”
October 16th, 2019
You had been looking forward to today’s lecture. It’s all about memory processes and mnemonic devices, retention and phenomena regarding recollection. You’d been hoping to integrate some of the information into your study habits—though you already know all about the spacing and testing effects, you’re always open to learning new tricks.
Yet you don’t find yourself as immersed in the class as you thought you’d be. Margaret and Mateo are beside you, giving themselves to Dr. Renault with rapt attention, but you can’t seem to devote to him that same level of focus. A small, naïve part of you wonders why, but deep down, you know the exact reason for your lack of concentration.
And that reason is currently standing off to the side of the room, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest and his olive eyes fixated shamelessly on you. You have to suppress a smile—he’s not even trying to hide it.
Around thirty minutes ago, Harry had returned the quizzes that you had all written last week. You’d looked down at your paper to find a perfect score, along with a messy red scribble in the corner.
Well done, love. See you tonight. H. x
You don’t think that your heart has ever swelled so rapidly. Even now, sitting in the middle of the room, you can hear the blood rushing through your ears. Sometimes, when you glance down at Harry, he’ll look away—other times, he just stares at you evenly, refusing to be the first to give in. You’ve witnessed his lips twitching with a forbidden smirk on multiple occasions. It takes everything in you to keep from grinning like a maniac.
What the fuck is going on?
He must be in a good mood, you decide. You peek down at him one last time—to your surprise, his attention is elsewhere, eyes trained on his watch to check the time. When he lifts his head back up, you deflect your gaze immediately and try to ignore the giddy warmth that erupts across your chest.
You refuse to look at him again, but in your peripheral vision, you swear that you see his shoulders rumble with a silent laugh.
~*~
Harry’s building is really nice. The floors in the lobby are shiny and polished, and glass chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Actual chandeliers! The windows are large and clear, letting in just enough natural light from outside to make you feel like you’re starring in an episode of Gossip Girl. You shoot a timid smile to the woman sitting behind the front desk—since when do apartment complexes have receptionists?
Even the elevators look like they’ve been recently renovated. The buttons light up when you press them, a thin ring of red surrounding each number. You find yourself humming along to the music playing softly from the speakers.
The elevator dings when you reach your level. “Fourth floor,” an automated voice announces. You chuckle incredulously as you step out into the hallway. How the hell is he living here?
Your eyes narrow as you scan the plaque on each door that you pass. 4A, 4B…
4C.
You stop short, running your fingers through your hair and tugging on the sleeves of your denim jacket. You pull your phone out from your pocket and glance at the time—it’s exactly six o’clock.
Before you can lose your nerve, you lift your fist and rap gently on the wood. The sound is drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You swallow heavily and shove your hands behind your back, waiting with a held breath and a racing pulse. The passing seconds feel like eons; you’re about to knock again, but then there’s a faint click, and the door is swinging open before you can blink.
“Hey,” Harry says, not unkindly.
You offer up a nervous smile. “Hey.”
The first thing you notice is that his outfit looks nothing like the usual ensemble he wears to your lectures. You were beginning to think that all he owned in his closet were slacks and button-ups and any other articles of clothing that make him look about twenty years older than he really is. But here he stands before you, sporting a light grey hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants. Cute little ankle socks cover his feet, and—as he had on the first day of class—he’s pinned his hair back using his glasses. His eyes seem brighter than usual, and his lips look slightly swollen, like he’s been chewing on them continuously. The prospect of him being antsy to see you makes your stomach flip with anticipation.
You force the thought out of your mind and silently berate yourself. He’s not eager to see you, and there’s nothing here for you to dissect—you’re reading too much into this.
“Come in,” Harry says, stepping away from the door and making room for you to pass through. You thank him softly, gliding past the threshold and taking a short moment to toe off your shoes.
“How are you?” you ask him, though you don’t meet his gaze.
“Good, thanks,” he replies. “You?”
“I’m good.”
“Good.”
You snicker hollowly—the playfulness he’d channeled today in class has clearly faded away. Harry turns on his heel and pads down the hall; unsure of what to do, you simply follow. You take advantage of the fact that he can’t see you, allowing your eyes to rake over his broad, muscular back. Your mouth waters when you cast only a momentary glance at his ass.
“I figured we could set up in the kitchen,” Harry tells you matter-of-factly.
“Sounds good.”
He nods and stops in front of another doorway. Just as he had done before, he steps aside and motions for you to enter first. “After you.”
You hate the weak articulation of your response. “Thank you.”
Everything in the kitchen is white, save for the black marble countertops and the sleek grey refrigerator standing proudly in the corner. On the table sits a bowl of bananas and a small stack of letters and bills. When you glance at Harry with a puzzled look on your face, he just shrugs.
“I really like bananas,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. His sudden awkwardness makes you smile.
“I prefer pomegranates,” you reply, a hint of teasing evident in your tone.
Harry nods. “Those are good.”
“Right?” you say, setting your bag down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “They’re a real bitch to peel, though.”
“I know,” he hums, rolling his eyes. “It takes forever.”
You chuckle and look up at him properly for the first time since he’d opened his front door. His irises twinkle with mischief, and the sight makes your heart flutter in your chest. You’re not used to seeing him like this—with just a few short sentences, it feels like he’s let down his guard and is allowing you to see a new side of him. You like it. You don’t want to screw it up.
“Have you got your exam?” Harry asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blink and nod quickly, unzipping your bag and pulling your midterm out of a random binder.
“Here we go,” you murmur, handing it over to him.
He hums gently before motioning for you to take a seat. You lower yourself into the chair at the head of the table, and he chooses to occupy the one adjacent to you. The skin on your arms prickles when he shifts a bit closer. He unfolds your exam, opening it up to the second page.
“Right, then,” he says, clearing his throat. He points to the top of the sheet. “We ended off with this question the other day, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Harry mumbles. He slides his index finger to the very bottom of the paper, where your next error is circled in red. Your attention is glued to the small cross tattooed on his hand.
“For this one,” he starts, tapping the page softly, “Sleep spindles become apparent on a monitor during the second stage of light sleep, not the third.”
“The third stage consists of delta waves, correct?” you ask. Harry nods—you think that there’s a trace of pride in his expression, but you can’t be sure.
“See?” he tells you, pinning you with a serious look. “You know this stuff. You just had a bad morning that day, that’s all.”
His words make you want to lean over the corner of the table and tackle him in a hug.
“I—thank you,” you stammer instead. You focus your attention on your exam, praying that he doesn’t catch the stupid smile that spreads across your face. Your cheeks are aflame, and your heart feels like it’s only seconds away from giving out. You adjust your position in the chair, crossing your legs and shoving your hands beneath your thighs to hide the way that they tremble.
The two of you work through most of the remaining questions together—you’re shocked at how many of the correct answers you actually know. You feel like an idiot for having gotten them wrong; when you mutter as much under your breath, Harry shoots you a stern glare.
“You’re not an idiot,” he tells you, a hard edge to his voice. You shrink beneath his piercing gaze. “This is why we encourage going to bed early the night before an exam. You know so many of these, but a lack of sleep can really just screw you over.”
“Yeah,” you say, sighing softly. A second later, you add, “Thanks for bearing with me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Harry responds. He flips to the last page of the packet. “We’re nearly done,” he reveals, and you have to fight to hide your surprise when he smiles teasingly at you. “Then you’ll be able to get me out of your hair.”
You scoff and emit a nervous laugh. “If anything, I’m the one in your hair.”
“Not true,” Harry says. His shoulders shake with a cool shrug. “I wouldn’t have been doing anything tonight, anyway. Your presence is a welcome distraction.”
You snort, though the sound rapidly dissolves into a violent cough. Harry’s eyes widen, and he rubs his palm over his forehead when the realisation hits him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs before speaking up. “I didn’t even offer you something to drink, Christ. What can I get for you?”
“Um,” you choke out, placing your hand on your chest. “Water—water’s fine.”
“Brilliant.” He shoots up from his chair and darts around the counter. You curl your fingers into a fist and deliver a few gentle pounds to your sternum. When the hacking fit passes, you swallow heavily and squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed beyond belief. You busy yourself with staring at the last page of your midterm, skimming mindlessly over the words on the sheet.
Lost in your humiliation, you don’t look up when the loud clinking of glass reaches your ears. It’s only when you hear the deep baritone of Harry’s voice that you lift your gaze.
“Er…would you mind?”
Your jaw drops.
“How the hell did you manage to do that?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Harry protests as you stand. His features contort with concentration. “They all just fell down at once!”
You laugh and scurry around the counter quickly. Harry’s standing in front of an open cabinet, his forearms acting as the only barrier between several cups and the floor. He wrinkles his nose as he shifts, only to freeze immediately when one of the glasses slips further down. You pause beside him, looking for a way to provide help without causing anything to fall and shatter.
“Why’re you just standing there?” he demands, but the question is laced with laughter.
“I’m trying to find a way to get in here!” you say, giggling. You gnaw on your bottom lip to suppress a smile, stepping closer to him and placing your fingertips delicately onto his elbow.
“Okay, maybe—lift your arm a bit for me.”
“What?”
“Lift your arm!”
“Alright, shit!” Harry obeys.
You hunch your shoulders and slip in between him and the counter, ending up with your back pressed against his chest. His breath washes out onto the shell of your left ear—a shiver races down your spine. You bite down harshly on your tongue as you lift your own arms, carefully plucking each glass from its teetering position and placing them all safely back onto the shelf.
“There we go,” you murmur, holding out your hands in front of the cabinet—one last act of caution. His arms fall from where they were outstretched next to yours. You give yourself a mental pat on the back, smirking proudly and turning around.
Your breath gets caught in your throat.
Harry hasn’t moved an inch.
His expression is unreadable, features stony. His eyes stare at you with such intensity you feel as though he’s pulling you apart layer by layer and scrutinizing everything that lies beneath. You watch anxiously as his tongue dips out to wet his lips—the action is over just as quickly as it begins. His strong chest moves against yours, rising and falling with shallow, sporadic gasps. You swallow roughly, refusing to make the first move.
But then Harry lets out a defeated sigh.
“Fuck it all,” he says.
A pair of large hands fly up to grip the sides of your face, and he covers your lips with his.
~*~
If someone had told you a week ago that you’d end up like this, you’re pretty sure that you would have cackled right in their face. Hell, if someone had told you ten minutes ago that you’d end up like this, you would have considered it to be the grandest comedy special of the century.
But there’s nothing funny about this situation.
You fail to see any bit of humour in the way that Harry presses his lips to yours with a bruising force. You don’t laugh when he steps closer to you, trapping you against the counter and sliding his fingers into your hair to keep you near. And you’re not fucking around one bit when you melt against him, your hands slipping past his waist and your fingers interlocking at the small of his back. A soft, pleased sigh escapes your lips.
Finally.
“I’ve thought—,” Harry breathes against your mouth, cutting himself off so that he can pepper hard kisses to the corner of your lips. “—thought about this so much, you’ve got no idea.”
“Shut up,” you murmur, digging your nails into his back through the thick material of his sweater. He presses a forceful kiss to the curve of your jaw; you can feel the way his cheeks lift with a smirk.
It’s frenzied, it’s feverish, and it’s been a long time coming. Harry doesn’t waste a second, hiking you up onto the counter and tugging your denim jacket from your shoulders. You whimper delightedly at the action. His fingers find the hem of your white t-shirt, slipping beneath the soft cotton and rucking it up your sides. His nails scrape gently across your skin, leaving a searing path behind. Your top falls to the floor, leaving you in a plain, nude bra.
Your face heats up in embarrassment—of course, you’re wearing the foulest undergarments you own. You hadn’t exactly expected to wind up here.
“You too,” you protest breathlessly, trying to turn his attention away from the sheer ugliness of your intimates. You ball the fabric of Harry’s hoodie up in your fists; his body rumbles with a faint chuckle. He steps back, fixing you with an intense stare as his grip curls into the collar of his sweater. You watch with hot cheeks and dilated pupils, clenching your thighs together when he finally rids himself of the material.
He’s got a few dozen more tattoos hidden beneath the sweatshirt, designs littered across his shoulders and his chest. You’re not even surprised. Your gaze falls to the intricate butterfly inked across his abdomen. Harry moves back into your space, and you reach out to trail your fingers along the insect’s ebony wings.
“It’s gorgeous,” you mumble softly.
“I want you,” he replies.
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Have me, then,” you say, lunging for the knot on the waistband of his sweatpants.
“Wait.” He stops you, his long fingers circling around your wrists. “Not yet. First, I’ve got to—”
“What is it?” you ask, somewhat impatiently. You duck your face down, intending to sponge kisses up and down his neck. Your urges are dashed, however, when you catch a glimpse of the marks already scattered across his throat. The hickies aren’t as dark as they had been a couple of days ago (they’ve faded into a light brown, now), but the mere sight of them still leaves you paralyzed with resentment.
You sit back on the counter, your features hardening. Harry watches you in confusion before it dawns on him. One of his hands shoots up to cover his neck.
“She—it didn’t mean anything,” he tells you quickly.
You choke on a dry laugh. “And this does?”
His eyes grow dark. He cups your face in his palms, leaning forward so that his lips brush against yours when he speaks.
“You have no idea,” he says lowly, “how much this means to me.”
You gulp. Your voice shakes when you say, “Prove it.”
Harry kisses you urgently, wrestling his way in between your legs. Your thighs fall open easily, welcoming him closer. He growls gruffly when you hook one of your calves around his hips, drawing him in. His fingers dance up your spine, playing hesitantly with the clasp of your bra. You arch your back, silently encouraging him to take it off.
He makes quick work of the ordeal, undoing the three little hooks in a matter of seconds. Your lips detach from his with a loud smacking sound when the cups loosen around your chest and the straps slide from your shoulders.
“Lemme see, love,” Harry rasps. “Please.”
You swear that those four words are enough to have you soaking through your jeans.
You pull your bra from your body, tossing it away mindlessly. Harry diverts all of his attention to your breasts, reaching up to caress them in his hands. His thumbs stroke over your skin. Your nipples grow tight with arousal, and you’re about to beg him to just do something, but then he bends down and engulfs one of them into his mouth.
“Shit,” you breathe, tilting your head back. “That feels good.”
Harry continues to fondle your other breast with his left hand, while the right slips down so that he can plant a firm grasp on your waist. He rubs his fingers soothingly along the space just above the waistband of your bottoms. You’re torn between pushing your hips back against his touch and curving your torso forward into his mouth.
He pops off of your chest, licking his lips and scattering a haphazard trail of kisses along your cleavage until he reaches the other side. He’s quick to pamper your other nipple with the same amount of attention, sucking avidly and swirling his tongue around it. You whimper, his actions unearthing something wild buried deep in the pit of your belly.
“Harry,” you moan, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. “Please.”
“My hair…,” he mumbles quietly, moving away from your chest and leaving a path of wet kisses up your neck. You sigh when he bites down gently on your collarbone.
“What?” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut. Harry snickers.
“Pull—”
He kisses your throat.
“—my—”
He kisses your chin.
“—hair.”
He kisses your lips.
Your fingers twine immediately through the wavy brown tendrils at the back of his neck. You stroke his hair zealously, your nails bumping against the glasses that are still perched on top of his head.
“Take these off,” you mumble, giggling against his lips. Harry smiles, removing the frames. Instead of folding them up, though, he slides them onto the bridge of your nose, his cheeks dimpling with a smug smirk.
“You look hot,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d love to fuck you while you’re wearing my glasses, but I think you’d just end up with a headache afterwards.”
“My God,” you mutter, shaking your head softly and pulling them off. His words are intended to mock, but they’ve only succeeded in turning you on beyond belief. You leg tightens around Harry’s waist, and you place your hand on his right shoulder to guide him down for a kiss.
“Are we—do you wanna—?” you inquire between soft smacks of your lips against his. Harry seems to catch on to what you’re trying to ask. He nods vehemently, winding his arms around your waist and squeezing you tightly. Your breasts squish against his bare chest—the contact sends a shiver down your spine.
“C’mere,” Harry says, helping you stand from the counter. You reach out for the knot on his sweatpants again, but just like before, he interrupts the act.
“Stop that,” he instructs, his lips twitching in amusement when he registers the pout on your face. “I wanna do something else, first.”
“What is it?” you whine. Harry flips your hands over and traces small circles into your palms. He plants a few chaste pecks on your lips before guiding your fingers into his hair once more.
“Keep them there,” he murmurs as he kisses down your neck. “You’re gonna need something to hold onto.”
You open your mouth to question him, but then he’s dropping to his knees and fiddling with the button on your jeans, and your voice betrays you. Harry tugs your zipper down slowly, peering up at you through his eyelashes and fighting to mask a conceited grin. You wiggle your hips as he jerks your pants down your legs, eventually stepping out of the material once it pools at your feet.
“I can smell you, love,” Harry whispers, groaning wantonly and pressing his forehead against the top of your left thigh. You swallow violently at the pure lust coating each syllable of his sentence, arranging your feet so that they’re planted a bit further apart.
“Can I have it?” Harry asks, looking up at you for permission. His fingers hook into the fabric of your panties.
You nod feebly, choking on the word. “Yes.”
With that, he yanks your underwear smoothly down your legs, throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, and goes to town.
You tilt your head backward as he licks a wide stripe up the length of your folds. His plush, swollen lips pepper kisses against the innermost parts of your core. Your clit throbs when he pulls it into his mouth and sucks gently. He grunts appreciatively when you tug on his hair.
“Don’t stop,” you breathe, your eyes fluttering shut. The cold edge of the marble counter presses into the small of your back, but you pay it no attention. Harry places one hand on your waist, while the other snakes around to cup your ass. He pinches your bum lightly, chuckling when you squeak and twitch in response.
“How’s it feel?” he asks, sticking his tongue out and flicking it rapidly against your clit. Your lips part with a lewd moan, and your fingers tighten in his curls. You feel him smirk against your cunt, evidently satisfied with your answer.
“Harry,” you breathe, your chest heaving. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Good.”
He doubles his efforts after that. You can’t even be embarrassed about the sounds that leave your mouth. It feels like he’s everywhere at once, pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs and lapping fervently at your folds. You jump when he circles your entrance with the tip of his index finger, and whimper as he slowly sinks the digit inside of you. He probes around, cursing at the sensation of your walls bearing down on him.
You can’t believe that this is happening. Never in a million years would you have predicted that you’d be standing in Harry’s ridiculously expensive kitchen, stark naked, with his lips and his tongue guiding you to the brink of an orgasm.
Things have a funny way of working out, you suppose.
Harry hooks his finger inside of you, petting a rough, sensitive spot. You cry out and fall over the edge. The muscles in your legs shake so violently that you have to lean against the counter to keep yourself upright. The heel of your foot digs into Harry’s back, and your grasp on his hair grows unbelievably strong. He continues to pump his finger in and out of your cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he pulls back to watch your features contort in pleasure.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the skin just beneath your navel. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
“Damn,” you whisper, inhaling deeply. You pause when you realise that you’ve still got an ironlike grip on the wavy tendrils atop his head. Releasing his curls, you flex your fingers and wipe your sweaty palms against the sides of your bare thighs. Harry’s eyes glitter.
“You’re good at that,” you say breathlessly. He grins, and you swoon upon spotting the deep crevice of his dimple.
“Can I kiss you again?” he requests.
A winded laugh falls from your mouth. “You didn’t ask me if you could before.”
“I should’ve.” He grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you seriously saying that right now?” Your eyebrows climb up your forehead.
A low grunt escapes Harry’s lips when he stands. You watch, amused, as he places a hand on his lower back and stretches. His nose wrinkles in contempt.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Back problems.”
“Why’re you apologising?” The corner of your mouth quirks up. Harry pauses, looking down at you before an incredulous chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest.
“You’re something else,” he says, shaking his head. You smile, winding your arms around his neck and steering him in for a long, lazy kiss.
He tastes like you. The realisation makes you moan.
Sneakily, you run your hands down his back, taking only a moment to marvel at the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You stop right above his bum, gliding your fingers over the elastic of his bottoms and circling back to the front. Harry scoffs when you begin tinkering with the tie on his sweatpants, and you giggle. Despite his slight jeer, though, he allows you to continue.
You pull at the string, and it promptly comes loose. “Wait,” Harry says.
You groan.
“I swear to God,” you exclaim. “If you don’t let me get you naked—”
He grabs your face in his palms and cuts you off with a bruising kiss. Your empty threat dies on the tip of your tongue.
“I just meant—,” Harry mumbles, the words hot and sticky, “—maybe we should take this to my room.”
You pull back and blink. “That’s awfully forward of you.”
His face is vacant until your sentence sinks in, and then he laughs. The sound comes from deep in his diaphragm, capping off at the end with a high-pitched squeak. It makes you want to grab him and cover his lips with yours until you’re both struggling to breathe.
“C’mon,” Harry commands, tangling his fingers with yours.
He leads you out of the kitchen and down the hall, stopping at the last door on the left. As soon as you step into his room, you note that his bed is preposterously big. That’s the only observation you’re able to make, though, because then he’s picking you up in all of your naked glory and flinging you onto the mattress.
You yelp in surprise, scrambling up to where a mountain of pillows is propped against the headboard. Harry watches you as he saunters over, his eyes hungry and voracious. His tongue swipes over his teeth as he joins you on the bed. You giggle eagerly.
Once your lips convene again, the atmosphere shifts. The playfulness is gone, replaced by something deeper, something greedier. Harry licks into your mouth, ravenous. You whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist and subconsciously bucking your hips up off the duvet. You can feel his cock inside his bottoms, hard and heavy and waiting to be freed. Fed up with the numerous delays, you grab onto material covering his thighs and yank it down. He notices your struggle, and he sits back on his knees to help you in your quest to get him undressed.
“I’m not—,” Harry begins, but he’s too slow.
Your eyes grow wide when they land on what lies beneath his sweatpants.
I’m not small, he might have started to say, or perhaps, I’m not wearing any underwear.
You’re not sure which statement it would have been, because both are true. He’s now equally as naked as you, his cock swollen and curved against his stomach. The tip is flushed a light pink, dotted with clear drops of arousal. A prominent vein runs along the underside—you’re suddenly overcome by the urge to feel it against your tongue. A few inches lower, there’s a tattoo of a tiger’s face inked on his thigh. You feel your stomach tighten as an entirely new wave of desire washes over you.
You look up at Harry with unreadable eyes. He stares back at you, and—for what may be the first time ever—you think you see a hint of insecurity brewing in his gaze. He swallows; you get the feeling that he’s going to say something, but you beat him to it.
“You’re so sexy,” you tell him earnestly, and then you kiss him again.
He ruts against you, his cock sliding along the inner crease of your thigh as the two of you move together. His hands slither up your body to squeeze your breasts, and you arch into his touch. After a few minutes of him devoting his attention to your chest, he reaches over and pulls open the top drawer of his nightstand.
“I’m clean,” he says, panting. “But…just in case.”
You nod once. “Agreed.”
He fishes out a condom, the foil packet crinkling loudly in his grasp. The sound snaps you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.
You’re really about to have sex with Harry.
Harry, who grades your papers.
Harry, who is employed by the university that you’re currently attending.
Harry, who ignored you for weeks.
All of those things should send off warning bells in your brain. They should remind you that what you’re doing is wrong, and the two of you could get into an unbelievable amount of trouble. Your academic career might very well never recover. Harry could lose his job.
But you don’t care. Because though he’s the same Harry who grades your papers and who works for your university and who ignored you for weeks, he’s also Harry, who writes little notes on all of your tests and assignments. Harry, who bought you a coffee just because he felt like it. Harry, who was willing to devote a hefty portion of his free time to reviewing your midterm with you and showing you where you went wrong.
“You good?”
His innocent inquiry pulls you out of your haze. The condom has been rolled on.
You nod firmly, your legs falling open with a surprising amount of ease. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Let’s do it.”
When his cock first enters you, it takes a minute to get used to the intrusion. Harry watches your features for any sign of discomfort; you find it sweet. You pulse around him, and his hips falter as he swears softly.
“Sorry,” he says. “It feels good.”
“Glad to hear it,” you say wryly. He smirks.
You take deep breaths as you try to grow accustomed to the way he’s spreading you apart. He leans down, balancing on his forearms and sprinkling dozens of kisses across your face. His lips land on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your chin. The small displays of affection help you loosen up.
“I think it’s okay, now,” you whisper, pushing his hair out of his face. Harry seals his lips against yours, gradually pulling out and thrusting back in. His pace is still slow, cautious, wary; you cup his jaw and skirt your thumb over the small mole by the corner of his mouth.
Steadily, he begins to pick up speed. Within minutes, you’ve got your lips parted and your back curved, your little mewls of pleasure filling the air. Harry curses, sitting back on his heels and searching for a secure grip on your waist. He pistons his hips, pulling you onto his cock with each drive forward. Your fingers dig into the duvet.
“Fuck,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “It’s so good.”
Harry reaches forward to pull your hands away. “Don’t,” he gasps, his forehead gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. “Lemme hear you, I wanna—,” he groans, “I wanna hear you.”
You moan in response. The headboard creaks incessantly, but neither of you pay the noise any attention. Harry’s chest is flushed a dark shade of pink, matching the blush on his cheeks. His hair has flopped over onto his forehead; he doesn’t even attempt to move it out of the way. You can feel his thighs flexing against your bum as he fills you to the brim with every thrust.
“Bloody fuck.” He grits his teeth, a vein in his neck popping. “So fuckin’ tight, love. You’re squeezing me.”
At that, you deliberately clench around his cock. One of Harry’s hands splays out over your navel abruptly. The next drive of his dick inside of you is hard and sudden—a form of admonishment. It makes you gasp.
“Don’t,” he warns softly, sliding his palm upward and pinching your left nipple. “Be—be good for me.”
His hand continues further north, and your eyes widen when you feel him wrap his fingers around your throat. He doesn’t apply much pressure, but you moan loudly anyway. His thumb strokes over the gentle curve of your jaw, and his middle finger prods gently at your mouth. Without hesitating, you take the digit past your lips, laving your tongue over his knuckle.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers. He stares at you—completely awestruck—like he can’t fathom that you’re real. You whine and buck your hips against his, urging him to resume his previous pace.
“Filthy,” Harry mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. He releases your neck, trailing his finger down your sternum and leaving behind a damp path of your own saliva.
“I’m almost there,” you tell him, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep your sounds from increasing in volume.
“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly. “Gonna cum for me? Please, darling—I wanna see it.”
“Fuck me,” you gasp, twitching at the lewdness of his demand.
Harry grunts, and with the finger that was just inside of your mouth, he rubs frantic, messy shapes against your clit. The sudden onslaught of stimulation catches you by surprise, and you shriek when your orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.
“Holy shit!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your climax is powerful, splintering through your entire body. Your toes curl into the mattress and your thighs quiver pugnaciously. Harry continues to fuck you, alternating between deep, languid strokes, and short staccato pumps. He digs his fingers into your skin as his rhythm wavers.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” he groans, his face screwing up in pleasure. You grasp at his wrist with shaky hands, stroking over the anchor on his arm when he releases a string of cusses. Harry snaps into your cunt one, two, three more times before stilling and collapsing on top of you, utterly depleted.
The two of you lie there for eons, it seems. Your bodies are hot, spent, and slick with sweat. He sighs, nuzzling into you and delivering a gentle kiss to your temple. Your chest rises and falls unevenly as you struggle to regain your bearings. The room is silent, except for the shifting of limbs and the sound of Harry’s breathing in your ear.
“Was good,” he croaks, lifting a hand and tucking your hair away from your face with feeble fingers.
You hum and turn to the side, the tip of your nose brushing his chin. “Yeah. It was.”
“We’re fucked,” he adds weakly.
You purse your lips. “Yeah,” you repeat. “We are.”
October 23rd, 2019
The next week, Harry isn’t in class. Instead, settled in the corner of the room, there’s a short Korean girl with dark silky hair and a bright shade of red daubed on her lips. She’s wearing a brown knitted-sweater that looks awfully cozy, and her feet are covered by a clunky pair of combat boots.
Who would transfer into a class this late in the semester? You wonder. Is that even allowed?
At that exact moment, Dr. Renault clears his throat. His announcement makes all of the blood in your body run cold.
“Good morning, everyone. Unfortunately, Harry will no longer be accompanying us on our exciting quest to learn about the brain.” He gestures to the Korean girl standing off to the side. “This is Hana. She will be my new assistant for the remainder of the course.”
November 13th, 2019
“Oh my God, here it comes!” Margaret squeals, her nails digging into your bicep. You laugh at her excitement. Mateo leans over to pull her painted claws out of your skin.
“Jesus, woman, you’re gonna draw blood,” he berates her. Margaret rolls her eyes and faces him with her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t see her complaining!”
“I was about to,” you pipe up, shooting her a dry smile. Your friend turns on you, her features warping with an expression of betrayal, but before she can say anything, the barista sets three tall cups of coffee onto the counter and calls out your orders.
“That’s us, bitch!” Margaret exclaims. “Thank you,” she adds in a softer tone. The barista just smiles, giggling quietly and wishing you a good day.
You reach out for your latte, taking a small sip and humming appreciatively at the taste. “I fucking missed this place,” you say. “Nobody does coffee like Grounded.”
“Agreed.” Mateo nods.
The three of you make your way down the hall, the sounds of whirring espresso machines and jingling coins growing fainter in the distance. The corridor is teeming with students, people engrossed in animated conversations as they head to their next class. Margaret is rambling about how she can’t wait to resume her routine of drinking three cups of caffeine a day, and Mateo is marvelling at the spotlessness of the basement floors.
“They really cleaned this place up,” he says. “I guess renovations aren’t useless, after all.”
“Mhm,” you hum in response.
You balance your coffee in one hand as you rifle through your bag for the little pot of lip balm that you know is hidden somewhere in the smallest pocket. You’re so absorbed in your search that you don’t notice a tall figure walk right out of the door in front of you and into your path.
“Oh, shit!” you hiss, bumping into a solid body. A few drops of coffee spill from your cup and run down your fingers. The liquid is still hot; you whimper.
“I’m so sorry,” you ramble, lifting your gaze as you apologise to the stranger. “I wasn’t looking where I was—”
You stop in your tracks, and the rest of your sentence fizzles out. Harry’s peering down at you with piercing green eyes, seeming to stare through your soul. He’s wearing a maroon crewneck and a pair of dark brown trousers, and his glasses are tucked securely into the collar of his shirt. His hair has grown since you’d last seen him all those weeks ago, wispy tendrils curling just beneath his ears. Your skin tingles with the memory of running your fingers through the soft strands, and you have to hold back a sigh.
“Hi,” Harry says, the greeting deep and guttural. You swallow heavily, gripping your coffee with both hands.
“Hi,” you whisper.
He buries his knuckles into his pockets, his brown loafers squeaking against the floor. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine.” Your answer is curt. “You?”
“I’ve been alright, yeah.”
“That’s good.”
A beat of silence passes before someone beside you clears their throat. You jump; you’d forgotten all about your friends.
“Okay, well, we’re gonna go…,” Margaret says slowly, drawing out the last vowel of her sentence. She’s only referring to Mateo and herself, but you put your hand on her forearm to keep her still for a second longer.
“I’ll come with you,” you tell her quickly, refusing to look at the man standing in front of you.
“Actually,” Harry pipes up. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”
You force yourself to meet his eyes. Margaret and Mateo step away leisurely. “What is it?”
“It’s about your midterm,” Harry says, even though both of you know that it’s not. Everything on his face reveals to you that his words are a lie, from the pursing of his lips to the furrowing of his brows. Despite your irritation, though, you find yourself nodding apprehensively.
Harry steps back, holding out his arm and motioning for you to walk into his office. You don’t bother shooting your friends one last glance before you oblige.
They’ll be fine; you’re not worried about them.
You’re worried about yourself.
You don’t miss the sound of the lock on the door clicking into place. You busy yourself with studying the office—Harry has begun moving his supplies back into place. The bookshelf in the corner is half-full; a few boxes—each of them are filled to the brim with novels—sit on the floor as they wait to be emptied. There’s a tall pile of papers on Harry’s desk. Your brows furrow in confusion for only a moment before you remember that he’s also serving as a teaching assistant for Dr. Chen’s psychopathology course.
“Er…,” Harry says from behind you. You keep your back to him, choosing instead to run your fingers over the smooth surface of his desk.
“What’s up?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level.
He sighs. “I quit my position in Dr. Renault’s class.”
“Really?” you say. Your tone is light, but the sarcasm in your words carries a harsh bite. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Your name leaves Harry’s lips in a quiet plea. It shocks you so much that you instinctively turn around to face him.
“Don’t be like that,” he implores. “Please.”
“Like what?” you snap, scowling at him. “What exactly am I doing?”
“You’re upset with me,” Harry states weakly. A dry, hollow laugh falls from your mouth.
“Maybe I am.” You shrug, the corners of your mouth curling disdainfully. “Wouldn’t you be upset if the person you’d fucked just decided to ghost you for a month?”
“I didn’t—,” he starts, but you cut him off without hesitating.
“Yes, you did,” you say, a hard edge creeping into your voice. “You kissed me, we fucked, and then you fell off the face of the planet.”
Harry remains silent, because he knows that you’re right. You grip your coffee tightly in one hand, the other coming up to rub tiredly at your forehead. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest, but there’s an odd, gratifying sensation spreading through your body. It feels good to tell him off, you realise. The anger and resentment brewing within you for the past month has made you astonishingly bitter.
“Why did you bring me in here, Harry?” you ask, sighing. “To tell me you quit Doctor Renault’s class? Because I already knew that.”
The words hurt as they exit your mouth. Hana seems like an absolute sweetheart, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the little notes scrawled in messy, boyish handwriting at the top of your weekly quizzes. You blink rapidly and will the reflection out of your mind, drumming your fingers against the side of your latte.
“Bloody hell,” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “Why the fuck do you think I quit?”
“Excuse me?” Your brows knit together.
“Why do you think I quit?” Harry demands, his lips twisting into a frown. You balk, hating that the question has caught you by surprise.
“I—,” you start, growing frustrated. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“God, you really are quite dense, aren’t you?” Harry asks, chuckling sardonically.
You narrow your eyes. “I didn’t come here to be belittled.”
“What did you come here for, then?” he shoots back. “Why’d you agree to speak with me?”
“Because I wanted an explanation,” you say, feeling your chest grow tight. The words are thick when they leave your lips. “But if you’re not going to give me one, then…”
“Fuck, wait,” Harry rushes out. He blocks the path to the door as you try to sidestep his broad frame. “Please, just…lemme figure out a way to say what I’m thinking.”
You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him. “You’ve got two minutes.”
He scratches the back of his neck, pulling gently on the collar of his dark sweater. You watch him turn phrases over in his head and hate that even now, in the middle of an argument, you still want to kiss him. Your lips prickle as you recall what it felt like to lick into his mouth, and how he swallowed up every single one of your moans.
“We had sex,” Harry finally says carefully. “That’s against the university’s policy.”
“I’m aware,” you say. You’ve realised this—why is he reiterating what you already know?
“I’m not allowed to be involved with a student in the classes where I’m…,” he continues and shakes his head, “Basically, if I’m a teaching assistant for a certain course, the people enrolled in it are off-limits.”
“I know.” You’re growing impatient, now. Harry’s mouth twitches.
“But I’m no longer the teaching assistant for Doctor Renault’s class,” he says softly. His stare is earnest, like he’s trying to tell you something without actually saying it.
You pause, allowing his words to sink in. Your lips part when the situation dawns on you, and you suddenly understand what he chose to do—what he’s done. You look up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, your fingers constricting so tightly around your coffee that the cup nearly dents under the pressure.
“You—,” you initiate, but Harry interrupts you before you can continue.
“Have dinner with me,” he requests with prudence, approaching you slowly. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. We can even see a movie after, if you’d like.”
Despite your dispute from only a few minutes ago, a small smile creeps onto your face. Harry takes another step toward you, and your stomach flips in anticipation. You gaze into his eyes, taking note of the way his green irises glimmer with hope. He lifts his hand and runs his thumb over your jaw. You find yourself leaning into his touch.
“You want to take me out on a date?” you ask, fighting to keep your eyelids from drifting shut. Harry smirks, his dimple popping on his cheek.
“I do,” he confirms, pinching your chin gently. “Will you let me?”
“I guess,” you say dreamily, and then your lips are on his. He exhales in relief, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours loop behind his neck.
Sparks are whizzing around in your brain. You’re sure that, realistically, they can be attributed to some sort of neurotransmitter, but you choose to believe that it’s just The Harry Effect.
You eventually pull apart for air, gasping hotly and scattering kisses anywhere you can reach. “As much as I’d love to continue this,” you say, sighing delicately as Harry delivers several hard pecks to your lips, “I need to head home and finish up a research report for my experimental psych class. It’s due on Friday.”
“Fine.” Harry drags himself away from you but keeps your face nestled in his hands. He runs his index finger along the seam of your mouth. “Go on, then. Congratulations on being a responsible student, I suppose.”
You smile and hold out your hand. “Give me your phone,” you order. His lifts an eyebrow teasingly; you mirror his coy expression and elaborate. “Let me put my number in. That way, we don’t have to e-mail back and forth like we’re in our fucking fifties.”
“I like to think that e-mailing is a very efficient way of sending messages,” Harry says.
You laugh. “Are you saying that you don’t want my number, then?”
“No, no,” he backtracks quickly, fishing his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it before handing it over to you. “Here, by all means.”
“That’s what I thought,” you simper. You key your information into the device, grinning as you pass it back to him. “There we go.”
Harry leans down, stealing a chaste kiss before you can even register what’s happening. He pulls back, humming impishly at the stunned expression on your face. “There we go,” he repeats, flashing you a crooked smirk.
He escorts you out of his office, down the hall, and up onto the main floor. Every so often, your hands brush as you walk. When you reach one of the many exits in the building, you turn to him.
“You’ll text me, right?” you check, succumbing to the small sliver of doubt that nags at your brain.
He nods. “I promise.”
“Okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. Your mouth subconsciously lifts into a doting smile. “Have a good day, Harry.”
His eyes are full of tenderness. “You too, love. Take care.”
You turn and push through the doors without looking back.
When you finally find your car in the winding maze of the parking lot, you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You dig it out and open it absentmindedly. A soft laugh slips past your lips when you discover a text sent from an unknown number.
“He’s cute,” you murmur to yourself, your eyes scanning over the message.
It was really nice seeing you. I look forward to having dinner with you soon. H. x
~*~
thank you for reading 💖 and thank you to @all-things-fic, @emotionally-imbruised, and @imethiminthemorning for being my betas! i love you guys [masterlist] [askbox]
Dopamine (a Serotonin extra)
if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3
#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#i really hope you guys love this#TArry#harry writing
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Birthday He Didn’t Expect - Daniel Kim
a/n: i’ll be writing a second part to this which will be combined with a request i received because it fits perfectly with this little fic dedicated to out precious and multi-talented maknae Daniel - Mia
Daniel didn't show it...or at least he tried not to but it was obvious. The young boy was upset and low-key hurt that none of his friends would be able to make it for his birthday.
He understood that some had prior engagements and that some were visiting their families but the feeling of his heart plummeting couldn't be helped.
As the clock struck midnight, his phone started flooding with messages and notifications, wishing him a happy birthday and warm wishes. He was no doubt grateful, as his friends surprised him with a group call to make up for not being there in person.
After the call which extended to almost two hours, one by one his hyungs bid him one last wish and a good bye before logging off for the night.
Putting his phone to charge, he settled under his sheets, getting into a comfortable position. His eyes fell on a picture frame hanging across the room and a soft smile graced his lips.
A bunch of boys were smiling back at him, Daniel standing in between Jay and Seon, leaning on Sunoo's head. The faces and the memories hit him with a wave of nostalgia and despite the warmth that radiated off the picture, the young boy's heart felt empty.
"Happy Birthday...to me...", his hoarse voice echoed within the walls of his room.
Singing the birthday song to himself dolefully, he turned to his side, all snuggled up and gradually gave into his sleep, feeling strangely alone except for the moon peeking through his window to keep the birthday boy company.
As afternoon crept in, Daniel was woken from his deep slumber by none other than a warm smile and an affectionate kiss from his dear mother and of course, free hugs from her.
Receiving a gift and an amazing breakfast to start his day, he felt somewhat better than last night.
As a mother's instincts do, his mother was quickly able to detect something was bothering her precious son.
"What's wrong, dear?", her gentle and comforting voice broke the silence. Daniel shook his head, a sad smile on his baby features. "Nothing, just kind of sad that no one can make it today".
Her heart broke, seeing Daniel trying to keep a strong and stable front. Her hand reached across the table and ruffled his hair, dropping down to caress his cheek.
"I'm sure they wanted to spend your birthday with you, dear. There's always next year, no?", she tried to comfort him.He only nodded in return, finishing the last of his breakfast. "You're right, mom", he smiled bravely. "There's always next year".
Later in the day, Daniel found himself watching baby panda videos while feasting on the home made chocolate cake his mother surprised him with. His mother was at her job after promising to come home early to spend the rest of his birthday.
A knock on the door interrupted him from watching a baby panda rolling among the leaves. Not expecting company or anyone or that matter, the young boy went over to answer the door, mind racking to remember if his mother mentioned anyone dropping by in her absence.
crouching down to be eye-level with the people, he did a double take when he spotted an enlarged face with the widest smile and crinkled eyes. Pulling the door open, he was met by one of his friends who launched himself on the surprised boy, singing the birthday song at the top of his melodious voice.
After the initial shock of the ambush was over with and the both of them were now standing, Daniel closed the door and stared at a jittery Sunoo who was literally buzzing with excitement and energy. “I thought you were busy!! What are you doing here??”, the younger of the two expressed his shock but feeling ecstatic that he won’t be alone for his birthday.
“I did a rain check with my sister and she was very understanding. She says happy birthday to you!”, Sunoo replied, clapping his hands. “Go and get dressed!” he cried, pushing Daniel towards his room. “I have everything planned for today and it will be my gift for you so hurry!!” he ordered a perplexed Daniel who knew better than to resist.
10 minutes later, the now hyperactive teen runs downstairs, skipping three steps at a time. Not finding Sunoo where he left him, he looks in the kitchen to be greeted with a sight he was frankly not surprised to see. Sunoo was wolfing down a large slice of the chocolate cake, thoroughly enjoying it from the animated reactions and noises of satisfaction he let out.
“Hyung, where are we going?”, Daniel asked, signalling his presence as he walks over to him and joins him to finish the slice Sunoo generously cut for himself. “We’re going to the festival..you know the one at the park?”, he replied, his face stuffed. Daniel let out a soft ‘oh’ once he understood what Sunoo tried to say.
An eventful walk to the bus stop filled with laughter and a bus ride later, the two boys entered the park's premises which was bustling with families, friends and even tourists making the place seem exuberant and alive.
Upon entering, they each received a flyer from someone with today's events listed down alongside the time and the part of the park where it was taking place.
Daniel's eyes immediately landed on the dog show which was apparently currently taking place in the left corner of the park. Sunoo, it seemed, had the same idea as he let out a gasp. "Let's check it out before it's too late!", he exclaimed and grabbed Daniel's hand.
Before Daniel could react, he was jerked forward as Sunoo ran towards their destination with only one thing in mind. Doggos.
Good boys and girls of all shapes and sizes with their floppity ears and little paw paws and tails wagging nineteen to the dozen. "Eternal happiness is drawing near!! I can feel it!!", Sunoo cried in exaggeration, hyping up Daniel as they both dodged the crowd and excusing themselves if they bumped into someone.
When they finally ended up at their destination, they were met by a large podium like stage decorated with colourful banners and balloons and on stop of that stage were a dozen or so dogs and puppies of all shapes, sizes and breeds wearing costumes and accessories to stand out.
Sunoo let out a squeal of excitement and Daniel couldn’t help but exclaim with joy, both of their eyes shining at the wonderful sight. Just then, the announcer commenced the ‘talent show’ and the owners with their little canine companions gathered there began to wow the audience and the judges with the various tricks they had prepared.
During the showcase, Sunoo’s and Daniel’s cheers were the loudest alongside the little kids who got more louder thanks to Sunoo and Daniel, and their exaggerated comments. Daniel’s heart swelled with happiness whenever his eyes fell on Sunoo. He was truly grateful and blessed to have a friend like him in his life and at that moment, he vowed to himself to be the bestest friend Sunoo will ever have.
After the show ended, the owners and their pets awarded, the two boys didn’t hesitate to ask the owners permission to play with the dogs and take pictures. A little boy was watching the dogs with a hesitant smile on his face and keeping his distant. Daniel noticed the boy’s hesitance and beckoned him over. The little boy waddled over to him, holding on to his mother’s hand and hiding behind her.
“Are you scared?”, Daniel spoke softly and the boy only nodded in return. “He’s also very shy but adores animals”, the mother explained. “Do you want to pet him?”, Daniel asked, lifting the brown pup he was holding. At the boy’s positive response, Daniel walked over to them and got on his knees to be at eye level with the toddler.
Reassuring the kid with his gentle and calming voice apparently did wonders as the boy was encouraged and assured that nothing will happen to him whilst his mother and Daniel were there. The small hand finally reached out and hesitantly touched the head of the small dog and the cautious pats slowly turned to loving and carefree ones as the boy slowly but definitely got accustomed.
The mother gave a grateful smile to Daniel who seemed proud and content with himself to be of help and make a kid’s day. Both boys were now playing with the small animal and having the time of their lives when Sunoo’s voice called out to Daniel, telling him that they have to check out other things at the festival.
When completely assured by the mother that she can handle from now on wards, he bid one last final good bye to the both of them and even exchanged a high five with the little boy before joining Sunoo who clapped his back. “I’m hungry...there’s this stall with live barbecue”, he exclaimed, hand rubbing his stomach.
“Is Sunoo hyung going to treat me today? It is my birthday after all”, Daniel whined and played along with his hyung’s aegyo. “Of course I am!”, Sunoo exclaimed, offended at Daniel doubting him in the first place. The birthday boy let out a giggle and clapped his hands, placing them on Sunoo’s shoulder as the both of them ran in search of the particular food stall.
Even though only one of his friends was able to make it for his birthday, Daniel felt elated and truly blessed to have someone like Sunoo in his life as the both of them laughed and the shorter one announced a surprise race to the stall which was now in view before picking up speed. Not wanting to lose and give bragging rights to Sunoo, Daniel put his long legs to use and soon ran past Sunoo, waving him along the way as he finally reached the crowded food stall, jumping in victory as Sunoo finally reached him with a playful pout.
It was surely one of his best birthdays all thanks to his favorite hyung.
#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop fluff#i-land#i-land scenarios#iland fluff#i-land fluff#iland#iland scenarios#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#daniel#daniel scenarios#daniel fluff#daniel kim#kim daniel#daniel i-land#daniel iland#sunoo#sunoo imagines#sunoo scenarios#sunoo fluff#i-land imagines#iland imagines#kim sunoo#kim sunoo fluff#kim sunoo scenarios
63 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
polina-tvorozhok
you're ALWAYS loved
kleptomaniacrowbutgay
weird gay little crow
streets-in-vogue
Street Style
morosugiyasai-blog
Untitled
timetravelingpenguin1066
vera the canary is this blogs mascot