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hyperfixated-gvf · 2 years

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Read the Room

On the fifth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy Hero fic with tipsy!Jake the cutie.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Baby It’s Cold Outside” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Light language, a bit of sexual humor, and one instance where Jake thinks he’s witnessing domestic abuse

Words: 3.4k

If you didn’t have reason before to keep your meddling sister out of your love life, you did now. Was it endearing, the way she was just looking out for you? Sure. Did you appreciate her thinking of you when she made the date, knowing that you would be alone on Christmas since you hadn’t made any friends in the area yet? Of course.

But for the life of you, you could not see how she thought the man in front of you would be the answer to your loneliness.

“So I’m looking at the crazy bitch like damn, I’m glad I got myself out of there when I had the chance,” he huffed, taking another swig of his drink.

You gave a polite laugh, not knowing how else to respond. “Yeah, exes will be like that sometimes. What have you –”

He interrupted you. “Yeah, I wish it was only sometimes. I swear, I have the worst taste in women because they all turn out to be insane. I mean worst taste in personality – I feel like I have a good eye for beauty,” he said, glancing down your body and winking. “You’re just – you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for. You don’t seem dramatic or flaky or just looking for a hookup.”

The offense that rose within you was partly for yourself and partly for all of his exes. “Oh gee, I’m flattered,” you responded unconvincingly, definitely not in the least bit flattered. You knew you should just come up with an excuse to leave instead of fuel this man’s delusions, but you really didn’t want to be stuck in your apartment, alone once again.

At least here, you were getting free drinks.

Your date started telling you another story about an ex that was prompted from his own comment. You didn’t think you’d actually gotten a word in outside of your name and a greeting the entire night. The bar seats you were sitting on were the kind that spun, so you readjusted yourself to face the room just a little more, letting your eyes wander to combat the boredom.

You sipped your drink; the bar was pretty full, but it was a Friday, so you weren’t surprised. The tables were all taken up by other couples and groups of people laughing and drinking and talking and generally having a better time than you were. The bar seating was less exciting – more single people and couples that couldn’t get a table trying to talk above the drink orders being thrown to the bartenders. Luckily your were far enough away from the drink-making area to avoid the majority of the noise; or perhaps unluckily – you thought that maybe had you been closer, you’d have an excuse for how many times you’d had to ask your date to repeat himself because you hadn’t been listening.

There was a small area on the other side of the room with a few bar staples - foosball, pool, darts, and a small card table. You were tempted to ask him if he wanted to play a game of darts or pool, but every time the playing tables were vacated, another group immediately took up camp, and neither the frat-ish looking college boys nor the long-haired party looked particularly inclined to stop in the middle of their games.

You watched a hit be made on the pool table – it was alright, not getting any balls in, but settling the 8-ball near flush against a busy pocket, which could help or hinder the shot-taker depending on how good the other people were.

You hadn’t realized you’d been watching the game continue on until your date’s hand brushed your upper-arm. “Do you play pool?” he asked, following your gaze.

You shifted your arm away from the touch, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, yeah. My parents had a pool table in their basement, and my sister and my dad and I used to play tournaments. I was alright – my dad was better and my sister sucked, but we had fun.”

“I was surprised your sister contacted me – I haven’t seen her since we worked the same shift at the soup kitchen in college. I love volunteering, but it was the only shift I really got to work throughout my educational career. I guess my major and minor took up a lot of my time since they were a little difficult,” he laughed, and you knew he was waiting for you to ask what they were, but you were tiring of playing along.

You blinked and took your eyes off the pool table, but before you could look back to your date, one of the pool players caught your eye and smirked, waving his fingers at you. He must have seen you watching the game and you gave a half-hearted smile back, shrugging before returning your attention to the man next to you.

“Yeah, school kinda sucked, but now that I’m graduated and have a job and everything, it was worth it, I think.”

He nodded, interested, or at least pretending to be. “I almost asked your sister out that day at the soup kitchen,” he said, continuing his story. Obviously, he had not been interested, and you had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes, so you took a long pull from your drink instead. “You’re almost a carbon copy of her; it’s nice.”

You choked on your drink, in disbelief that those words had actually come out of his mouth. “What?”

His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said and he took your hand in his. “Oh, not in, like, a creepy way. I’m not hung up on your sister or anything, but for old time’s sake – you remind me of her, or the time I knew her, is what I’m trying to say.”

You tugged your hand from his grip and rubbed the back of your neck, searching your vocabulary for words that weren’t ‘fuck you’ and were thankfully saved by a body approaching the limited space at the bar on your left. It was the long-haired pool player. Your date frowned at his proximity to you and even you gave the stranger a funny look as you twisted the seat around a bit to raise your eyebrows at him.

“Can I…help you?” you asked.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just thought I’d introduce myself.” His voice was nice, and he smelled a little bit like cigarettes and a very distinct something else, although you couldn’t put a name on it. “Hi,” he said, sticking his hand out with a subdued smile playing at his lips and a mischievous light in his eyes, “I’m Mr. Right, I heard you were looking for me?”

You were stunned into silence for a second, but then covered your mouth to hide your smile so as not to be rude to your date, rude as he had been to you all night. You still shook his hand, though.

“What the fuck, dude?” your date said incredulously, and you couldn’t deny the absolute balls it took for a guy to approach a couple that was clearly on a date, bad as it was, and say that. But from the glint in this guy’s eye, you could tell that he was insolent on the best of days.

“Oh fuck, sorry, are you guys on a date?” the stranger apologized in faux-innocence.

“Um, yes,” your date stated, eyebrows still shot to his hairline.

“My bad,” the pool-player said, putting his hands up in surrender, but still winked at you covertly, and you had to cough to hide the laugh that bubbled up. He wandered away with a hand stuffed in his pocket, both you and your date watching him make his way back to the table, not looking back at you.

“That was…weird,” you offered.

“That was fucking rude,” the man huffed. “It makes me so mad when men think they can just go up to a girl and hit on them – that’s fucking creepy, and it makes me feel bad for women. Like come on, it’s the 21st century, women are people with more to offer than what they can give you.”

You found it hard to take him seriously when just a few topics ago, he’d been badmouthing his exes and talking about his taste in a woman’s body and personality.

“I dunno, if it’s harmless, I think it’s more acceptable. Flirting is just another means of communication, so unless they’re aggressive about it and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, what’s the harm? I kinda admire a guy who has the guts to walk up to a woman and start a conversation – it doesn’t happen a lot, and it’s something I personally wouldn’t have the confidence to do either.”

He made a face. “You admire guys like him?” he asked, referencing the pool player.

You let out a small laugh. “I mean, not necessarily in the manner or situation in which he chose to place himself, but yes, like what he did.”

Your date shrugged, expression still sour. “I mean, to each their own, I guess.” You each took a break from speaking to drink what was left of you’d ordered, and the man took the opportunity after your empty glass had been set down to lean forward toward you. You could sense a change of subject coming up, and were less than enthused to hear what it would be. “So I’ve been having a great time, and I think we have a real connection, Y/N. What do you think about maybe setting up a second date? I know a really great hiking trail outside town we could do. At night, you can even see the stars – it’s incredible. Maybe we could go camping together next weekend?”

If red flags had been waving inside your mind before this, sirens were blasting with them now, too. This was definitely worse that any subject change you’d had in mind.

“Oh,” you said, a bit uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t want you to think that I, like, doubt your integrity or your intentions or anything, but personally, I think the second date is just a bit too early for camping together. For me. And it’s pretty cold out; I’ve never gone camping in the winter.”

Your date furrowed his brows. “Oh. Do you think I’d try to hurt your or something? Cause you know I wouldn’t, right? And I have all the supplies for winter camping.” He readjusted himself, staring intently at your face. “It’s just, that spot is pretty special to me, and I’d really like to share it with you. I feel like you’ll get to know me a lot more there – that spot’s like, the perfect encapsulation of my aura or whatever,” he joked. Or maybe not, you weren’t really sure.

You leaned away from him, turning your body back towards the room. “Like I said, it’s not that I assume you’ll hurt me or whatever, it’s just that I don’t really know you all that well, and camping is an activity that requires a certain kind of trust with the people you go with.”

He persisted. “Oh, come on, it’s just camping. We don’t even have to sleep in the same tent if you don’t want to.” His hand came to rest on your knee and you pursed your lips and stared at it. “Please?” he asked softly, trying to persuade you as if he had the power to change your mind.

You felt really uncomfortable and couldn’t help the grimace on your face.

“Hey, I’m sorry, could I just take a quick peek under the bar right there? I think I lost something.” Your date had been so caught up in trying to get you to come camping with him, and you in trying to turn him down that you didn’t notice the pool player approaching again, swerving and ducking his head, searching for something on the ground.

You took the opportunity to get up off your seat, moving to the side to let him have a look, displacing your date’s hand for the third time that night. “Oh, yeah, of course. What’d you lose?”

He shrugged and scratched his head. “I just – I could have sworn I had your number in my phone, but I can’t find it. Would you mind putting it in again for me?” He flipped his other hand out, offering a smart phone with a new contact page pulled up.

You didn’t stop your laugh this time, letting out a singular guffaw that your date looked to be offended at. “That was a good one,” you admitted. “Very smooth.”

Your date looked between the two of you. “Do you guys know each other?”

You shook your head just as the stranger shrugged. “No, but I’d like to.” You tried to hide your blush and rolled your eyes. Your date took your hand and tugged on it, trying to get you back in the seat beside him, and the stranger’s easy smile faltered infinitesimally.

“Do you mind?” your date grouched. “You’re kinda ruining our date.”

The stranger scoffed. “Okay, then, I guess I’ll go. I know when I’m unwanted,” he sighed.

“Obviously not, since you came back,” snarked the other man. The stranger shot him a middle finger and walked away.

Was he an asshole? Kinda seemed like it. Was he an intriguing potential asshole? Hell yes.

“I honestly don’t know what’s going on,” you said. “I’ve never seen that man in my life.”

Your date turned back to you. “Oh, I’m not blaming you, sweetheart.” The pet name made you cringe. “There’s just some weird people out there. Would you like another drink?”

You really didn’t. As much as you didn’t want to go home to your empty apartment, the date was no longer proving to be worth the free alcohol.

“Uh –” You were about to answer when you saw the pool player point to you and then to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He walked over to the corner and then motioned for you to join him and disappeared, and honestly? This was the most excitement you’d had in weeks, so you smiled at your date and got up. “I actually have to go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be back,” you said, already taking steps towards your destination.

You walked around the corner to the restrooms and were thankful for the well-lit space – as exciting as the pool-playing stranger seemed to be, you weren’t fully convinced that he wasn’t in it for the same thing as the douchebag back at the bar was.

He was leaning against the wall between the men’s door and the women’s door, waiting for you. When you rounded the corner, he smiled at you and pushed off the wall. “That was quick. Eager to get away?” he teased.

You blew a breath out and chuckled. “Was I that obvious?” You’d tried, really, to not appear as though you weren’t enjoying yourself, but you knew your façade had slipped a few times.

The stranger hummed and put a little space between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it up so you could see. “A little bit. I thought it was just a bad date –”

“It was. Is.”

“—but then after he grabbed you the last time I came over, I just wanted to check and make sure that you’re okay.” His smile had dropped and he was looking at you with a slightly unfocused intensity.

“Are you drunk?” you asked.

He repeated his ‘small amount’ gesture. “A little bit. But I know how to handle my alcohol – I’m what you would call an experienced flyer,” he boasted, but quickly relocated his original question and intent. “But really – are you good? Do you need any help leaving or anything?”

He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and it made you smile. “No, I’m okay. The guy’s annoying and rude and oblivious, but I don’t think he’s out to get me. Thanks for checking on me, though” you said, turning, “now I’m gonna go let him down because I actually can’t stand him.”

The stranger laughed. “Sounds good.” You were almost to the corner when he spoke again. “If you stick around after he leaves, I’ll buy you a drink,” he offered. “For your bad date and any other trouble.”

You batted your hand at him. “Nah.” His face dropped a little bit and he flushed. “You don’t need to pay for it, I’ll have a drink with you anyways.”

He smiled again, and you had to school your features as you made you way back to your date at the bar, sliding into the empty bar stool and flagging down a bartender. Your date smiled.

“Change your mind about that drink?”

You smiled apologetically. “No. I think I’m just gonna grab the tab.” He frowned at the statement.

“Oh, no no, I’ll pay, I insist,” he said, grabbing his wallet, but you shook your head.

“Listen, I don’t – I really don’t see this relationship going anywhere.” His face fell and you felt bad, but not the kind of bad that was going to haunt you – it needed to be done. “I’m sorry. I know you were really into it, but I just – I don’t think it’s fair for me to take advantage of your enthusiasm, so I’d rather we just…left it here.”

“Ah, I - um - yeah, okay. Uh, I’ll still get the tab, you only got two drinks,” he said, shrugging. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asked as the bartender took the bill away with his card.

You shook your head again. “No thank you, I think I’m going to run to the store across the street before I go home,” you lied. “But thanks for the offer, and thanks for paying, you didn’t have to do that.”

His card came back and he stood up, grabbing his coat. “It’s all good. Well, thanks for the evening, I guess. It would’ve been better without that douchebag butting in. I feel like he really killed the mood,” he joked.

“Ah, yeah, definitely,” you said, a small spark of guilt coming and going within the space of a half-second considering that you were staying for that same douchebag. “Sorry it didn’t work out. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

But you really didn’t blame yourself for this one.

“Thanks,” he said, “you too.”

And then he walked out. You returned to your seat and let out a huge sigh of relief at being out of his company at last.

You got out your phone and brought up your sister’s messages.

Never ever set me up on a date ever again.

Ever.

You waved at the bartender again, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be high-maintenance. But could I get two BJ shots?” You hadn’t had one since college, but if there was ever an occasion, it was now.

The bartender laughed. “Sweetie, I heard a bit of your conversations. I don’t blame you.”

You wiped your hands down your face. “Oh thank God I wasn’t the only one.”

She laughed and made the shots, pulling a can of whipped cream from a small refrigerator, topping them off, and putting them in front of you.

“Starting a tab or closing out?”

“Closing out,” you smiled, offering your card. She tapped a few buttons on her screen and returned it to you, leaving to take care of other bar patrons.

You stared at the shots, waiting, and smiled when someone took the stool next to you.

“Celebrating?” the long-haired stranger asked with a smirk.

You snorted, turning towards him and pushing a shot his way. “I am, actually.” You raised the tiny glass his way up in a toast, and he mirrored you, eyebrow raised in expectancy. “To giving a blowjob to literally anyone else but that guy.”

The stranger laughed as your glasses clinked together, then you both knocked the bottom on the bar counter and lifted the rims to your mouths, putting your lips around the circumference and throwing your heads back. You let your tongue press the whipped cream against the roof of your mouth before swallowing, placing the glass back on the bar.

The man tapped his finger to the top of his lip. “You got something, just there.”

You thumbed the errant cream off your mouth and licked it off as he watched you intently and let a smile play at his lips, always seeming like he was keeping a secret.

“I’m sure we have very different experiences, but by my standards,” he said, smile growing, “that was a pretty damn good blowjob.”

You laughed and stuck out your hand. “Hi, Mr. Right, I’m Y/N, I was the one looking for you.” He beamed, and it was adorable.

“Call me Jake.”

~~~

Tag list: @fleetsonfire @theweightofstardust @joshplaysthevocals

#12 days of trope-mas #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #My Hero #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fics #gvf fluff

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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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filterjeons · 3 years

Text

private show | jjk

✦ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

✦ summary: throughout your relationship, you never thought jungkook would ask a certain type of action from you. however, you take it into consideration...without the intention of him nearly catching you

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 7.4k

✦ warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, tsundere!reader, rough & unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!!), dirty talk, degradation bc im a whore for that, masterbation, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial

Honestly, you didn’t know what you did in your past life to earn a man like Jungkook but you weren’t complaining one bit anyways. By just one look at you, people assumed you weren’t the type to have a boyfriend and you would spend the rest of your life alone. Luckily, you managed to prove them all wrong by being with someone who loved you for the way you were instead of your money.

It was a blessing and a curse to be born into a rich family of doctors who expected you to be the heir of the family hospital. Despite having your future already planned for you, you fell in love with playing the violin after being introduced to it when you were young. The feeling of holding the violin against your jaw as the bow ran across the strings to produce a classical melody that you’ve familiarized yourself with throughout the years.

You would much rather be at a violin recital in a beautiful dress playing one of Bach’s sonatas than being cooped up in your room studying biology. However, your parents didn’t feel the same way.

When you were about 6, you ranked second at a competition against tons of kids who were in their later-preteens but that wasn’t enough to prove to your parents how much you loved music. They took it as a sign of failure because “it’s not being first” and always used that argument against you to emphasize on how you have to be at the top of your class.

“Mommy! Guess what, I got second place! Second out of a bunch of bigger kids! I didn’t expect-” you squealed, kicking the back of the limo’s glass partition. Instead of candy, you were buzzing with excitement due to how well you placed in your county’s music recital. But what you didn’t know was that even a place close to first was never enough. “Why didn’t you get first?”

As those words ran through your ears, you felt your blood run cold and the eyes that were dancing of excitement and joy started to dull. You clutched your certificate tightly, tears starting to swell up.

“That’s because there was a sixth grader who was better than me and she was really good, she can play the piano-” “You see, if you can’t get first then you shouldn’t pursue a career in music. It’s too hard and competitive for you anyways. How about you focus on your studies, especially since you’re going to take over the hospital when you’re older.”

Up until last year which was your freshman year of college, you obeyed them by devoting your time to studying and only treating music as just a hobby while you hide your feelings along the way. Now that you think about it, you barely had friends during high school since every break period, you were always alone in the music room and you were too stubborn to go up to people. The only reason why you would talk to someone is to work on a group project but it ended up being that you would do all of the work while they slack off.

Everyday felt dull and uninteresting, especially since you’re being put in a fate that you don’t even want. But like some stupid cliche, it all changed ever since you met him.

You didn’t even intend to meet him, hell you barely knew he existed. But the night of your chemistry midterm, the apartment next to you decided to have a party which most of the school is invited to and blast loud music that could be heard from the next town over.

It couldn’t get any worse as you were already stressed from college and your parent’s crazy expectations and you were definitely not failing otherwise you’re dead meat. Normally, you would just try to sleep it out with earplugs but since you barely ate anything but coffee and granola bars and you were tired from the 24 hour studying, that was your last straw. So you did the thing a person would do in your situation: marching over to the party in your purple star-printed nightgown to give them a piece of your mind.

Already at the door, you could feel people’s stares burn into you, due to why you came to the party when you didn’t bother interacting with people and why you were in your pajamas. Maybe people were going to talk about you on Instagram but you didn’t care, you just wanted to ensure that you have enough sleep so you could at least pass.

Unfortunately for you, you must’ve looked extremely stupid because you were wandering around the same area like a drunk man. Random people did offer to get you a drink but you declined; after all it was a school night. Eventually you gave up trying to even bother talking after seeing the host, local frat boy Jackson Wang, surrounded by the rest of the partygoers in a beer pong game.

Frustrated and exhausted, you hauled yourself up to a seemingly empty room and collapsed onto the bed. Not only did you enter a college party in your pajamas but you wasted precious time studying over something idiotic like this. With all of these negative emotions inside of you, screaming inside a pillow was the first thing that came into your mind. And unfortunately, someone had to be the witness of your near mental breakdown.

“Woah, is everything okay?” a velvety voice chuckled, patting your back slightly. Well, another reason why your night is absolute shit. You turned your face up to chew off the mysterious person but for some reason, your voice was all caught up in your throat.

He was different, different from all of the boys that ever interacted with you. Despite you being a complete loner, the guys in your high school tried to hook up with you but you were never interested. They stunk of axe and the only reason why they’re “popular” is because they were on a sports team. Besides, you were too busy in your academics to even think about dating.

You couldn’t really see him but the guy who’s in the room with you looks better than every single guy in your high school combined: his long dark hair in a mini-ponytail contrasting with his cute bunny-like face.

“Wh-who are you?” “Jeon Jungkook. I’m a member of the boxing team and my family owns a records shop downtown. What about you?”

“I-i-” “Aren’t you Y/N, the smart girl who doesn’t talk to anybody and spends her time either studying or in the music room with her violin?” Thank god the room is dark because your face was burning up badly. Barely anyone knew you and if they did, they had bad things to say about you because you were so quiet and boring. However, what he said was a fact and you shouldn’t blame him for having an impression on you due to what other people said. It hurted nonetheless though, especially since he was a part of a sports team.

“Yeah, that’s me. What do you want? If it’s homework answers, then fine!” you snapped, immediately standing up and walking away. You were absolutely done with this night, all you wanted to do is sleep so you have some sanity tomorrow.

“You sure are feisty. It’s cute,” he said with a cocky grin stuck on his face. Oh, how you wanted to slap it off.

“If you’re asking me out, I’m not interested!” you fought back. Although you were one step out of the door, something about him made you want to stay. Like you wanted to talk to him.

“I didn’t say anything about that but if you want it that way-”

“No! I-I’m sorry for acting all rude, I’m just having a really bad night and I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone,” you mumbled, turning on the light. Oh how it was a bad idea..

Now that you could really see his face clearly, your heart felt like it was about to explode. He was dressed in a simple all-black T-shirt and jeans with combat boots to match. What really captivated you were the tattoos on his hand and up to his elbow, each symbol and design etched out beautifully which must’ve taken hours.

Although you were at least wearing clothes, you felt exposed due to the stupid pajamas you have on. He somehow sensed your embarrassment and gave you a small smirk which made it ten times worse.

“Well, do you want to explain why you were screaming in a pillow earlier?” Normal you definitely wouldn’t spill her feelings to a hot guy she just met five minutes ago but with him, you felt safe. Like for one night, all your worries and feelings are immediately gone and it’s just you and him.

Was this the stupid shit they call “love at first sight”?

“My midterm is tomorrow and I can’t sleep from all of the noise so I came here to yell at the host of the party. Jackson Wang, fuck you and your decision to host a party today,” you sighed, settling yourself next to him. You would expect him to immediately laugh and make fun of you since it was something a lot of people did to you whenever you cared about your grades. Instead, he looked at you with understandment and listened to what you had to say.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I went to this stupid party in the first place,” he replied, making you snort out a laugh. As you were trying to collect yourself from his statement, Jungkook’s mouth turned up into a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that. Anyways, I guess I should get going since I have a big day ahead of me,” you smiled, feeling a small weight being lifted off of your shoulders. As you trudge out the door, Jungkook’s arm stops yours for a second.

“Do you think I can have your phone number? Not for dating but you sound like a really cool person to be around and no offense but you seem lonely.” “Thanks for the compliment. But here you go,” you said sarcastically, scribbling down your phone number on a random piece of stationary in the drawer next to the bed. Maybe this is all a fever dream, maybe you’re hallucinating due to how little sleep you’ve gotten during midterm week.

“I’ll see you soon…” he waved you goodbye as you gave a final look at the door. He was interesting but now isn’t the time to be distracted! You’re pretty sure that if you pinch yourself, you’ll be back in your dorm since this is just a dream? “Also, d-don’t take it the wrong way! It’s not like I like you or anything! I just wrote down my number because you asked nicely! We’re never going to date!” Not only did you pass your midterm but your last line to Jungkook in the stuffy college party would become your famous last words.

It’s been years since you and Jungkook met at that party and a lot has changed then. You started to grow feelings and date him a few weeks after your midterm, eventually making the relationship official in a month. After a few months into dating, he introduced his parents to you first. They were a sweet family with amazing home cooked meals which you were dying to recreate and luckily, they accepted you with open arms.

However, him meeting your parents wasn’t that smooth. Now that you look back on that day, not only were you permanently deciding to be with the one that you love but it also felt like you were breaking free out of the shell that your parents trapped you in because you didn’t want to go down the path they set for you.

You shook your head to yourself, not wanting to be reminded of the painful past. Now, you were a violinist playing in recitals and companies and Jungkook was running his parent’s record shop. You were happy and you didn’t care about what your stupid parents think. They can simply ask someone else to run the hospital and it’ll still be fine.

As soon as the practice track ended, you turned off the metronome and packed your violin away. The apartment that you and Jungkook shared was average-sized, a notable difference from the mansion you used to live in but it was better. You were with the person you love and that’s all you could ever need. It may sound corny but a simple life with him was all you ever wanted.

After you pack away your violin, you impatiently wait alongside the door for Jungkook to get home. Right now, he has boxing practice for a match next week and he wanted to stay with his teammate Taehyung to be the best that he can but he’s stopping by for a day. You’re not into boxing but like the good girlfriend you were, you attend most of his matches (some conflicted with your performances) and cheer him on.

Although you miss having him by your side, you’re also aware of how much boxing means to him as it was a break from the hectic life of owning a music store. Another positive in your new life was the amount of music there was, a good break from the science and math that filled your childhood.

You heard some jiggling among the door locks and surely enough, Jungkook’s handsome face was in your view. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and some blue jeans, a very simple outfit after spending most of his time at the boxing gym.

“Hey baby,” he cooed, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“Hi. I’m so happy you’re back, I was starting to worry that you forgot about me,” you joked, carrying his boxing bag to your shared bedroom with him tagging behind.

“You know I would never forget about you,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the back of your neck. Instead of wriggling away like you normally do, you allow yourself to relish in his affection since he wasn’t a person who did it often.

“I missed you..” you mumbled, turning around and kissing him. He returned the kiss more passionately, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The sudden action made you forget about everything, focusing only on him. Unfortunately, with your senses locked on him, it caused you to fall onto the bed, your head nearly hanging off of the edge. Jungkook used your weakness to have more control over the kiss and you, carefully grabbing the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Even though he always controls kissing you, his lips are also full of love and longing due to him being gone for too long.

“God I missed this,” he mumbled, breaking away to remove the buttons of your blouse and kissing the side of your neck. You whined from his touch, feeling a bit embarrassed due to how much time it’s been since the two of you were together.

“What is it baby girl, are you nervous? Come on, we’ve known each other for years and I know you can take anything I give you.” It was true of course but for some reason, it felt like the first time you had sex with him.

After your shirt has been taken off, you unconsciously cover your chest with your arms. You didn’t know why you’re acting so self-conscious, especially since you’ve been a challenger to him in bed.

“Hey, are you okay? We can stop if you don’t want to-” Jungkook asked softly, reaching over to take your hand.

What’s there to be nervous about? It’s just Jungkook and like he said, you’ve known him for too long. Besides, don’t you have too much pride to act this way? You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked back at him with a seductive smile.

“You were taking too long to take off my shirt. How boring,” you said coyly, tapping his nose playfully. He returned your gaze, his eyes darkened with lust and desire.

“Well then baby girl, how about you take off the rest of your clothes since you seem like you want to do it,” he muttered, sitting up with his attention completely on your chest. One thing you were infamous in your relationship for is being a brat, a mix of you being submissive but not backing down completely. Even though you liked being a good girl sometimes, the rest is just you on the receiving end. After all, you won’t back down to a challenge, nonetheless if your challenger’s your significant other.

If a person only based off of what they saw, they would think that you were the one taking absolute control due to the aura you give off and your harsh personality. However, at least between you and him since you were one to keep your private life a secret, he is the one with the reins and you were completely fine with it.

You unclipped your bra, throwing it at some random place in the room and revealed your exposed breasts. He ogled at your body up and down, his familiar lustful gaze running through his eyes.

“Hey, what are you staring at?” you barked, slowly starting to feel awkward. Unlike you, Jungkook had no shame when it came to your bedroom activities and there were times when he would just stare at you while you’re completely bare. How embarrassing...but it’s no big deal.

“Watch your mouth you little brat. Do I have to punish you on my day back?” he said darkly, his tone immediately making the back of your hairs stand up. Your face softened, heat forming in your cheeks as you twirled a random piece of your hair, a random habit that you’ve done since elementary school.

“I-I’m sorry.” “Sorry what, baby girl? You’re smarter than that.” “Sorry..sir.” After that word was uttered in your soft and obedient tone, Jungkook could feel his dick growing harder by the second. Hearing you give up all of your confidence and letting him control you never failed to turn him on.

“Now take off the rest of your clothes, sweetie. Or are you going to continue being a dumb little girl and keep playing with me,” he growled softly, leaning back on the bed frame. You felt like acting up some more but he truly was scary when he’s upset and you didn’t want to make his visit back bad because of your behavior so you simply did what he said. Even though you wouldn’t admit it to the world, you also love obeying Jungkook.

You quickly unzippered your jeans, pulling them off along with your panties and kicking them out of the bed. The warmth from the clothes were immediately replaced by the chilly air from the air conditioner, your nipples standing up and goosebumps filling your body. It was humiliating, especially since Jungkook can see you so clearly.

“My precious sweetheart,” he cooed, leaning over you and you could feel his hardened member alongside the roughness of his jeans as he slowly grinded into you.

“Ahh…” You didn’t know what to say, except you knew you wanted more. Jungkook’s mouth was latched onto your nipples, sucking them harshly while his other hand was massaging and flicking on them repeatedly. You felt your eyes roll back to your head and your pussy dampening, even though he wasn’t doing anything yet.

“You like this baby?” he asked gruffly, tugging on your nipple teasingly as it sends sparks of pleasure inside you. You only let out a whine in response as he broke apart from your chest and slowly made his way down your body.

All of a sudden, he inserted one of his long fingers inside of your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. You squealed from the intrusion as your body tried to familiarize itself with his finger, your walls clenching around his digit.

“Damn, have you gotten tighter since last time?” He started to thrust his finger in and out of you at a moderate pace, trying to get you used to the feeling. As if one isn’t enough for you, he suddenly inserted a second one to stretch you out.

Your mind was a haze, not paying attention to anything that was happening around you and focusing on the pleasure that Jungkook was giving you. His fingers attempted to reach the spongy section of your g-spot, the place that absolutely had you in hysterics. Surely enough, his fingertips grazed over it and you could nearly come undone at any second.

While he added an additional finger and completely filled you up, you could feel his smooth tongue on your clit, flicking and sucking on it feverishly. High-pitched moans and mewls were coming out of your mouth embarrassingly as you tugged on Jungkook’s long locks in order to steady yourself of the pleasure.

You could feel him curl his fingers and touch your g-spot, sending sparks within you. At this point, you were barely in a stable mindset due to how good he was making you feel. You felt a knot building up in your stomach, your orgasm coming close to you.

“Are you gonna cum now baby girl? Do you want to cum for Sir? Yeah, I know you do, I could feel it coming,” he said tauntingly, his fingers and tongue abusing your cunt and the vibrations among it made the sensation feel even better.

“Y-yeah, I’m gonna-” you whimpered pathetically but to your dismay, he completely stopped by sliding his fingers out and removing his face. With your release dismissed like it was nothing, you felt annoyance build up on you as your body shook from the denial.

“What the hell? Why did you stop?” you groaned, your eyes shooting sharp daggers at Jungkook. If looks could kill, he would surely be dead within two seconds. But all that’s on his face were your liquids and a cocky smirk that you want to wipe off instantly.

“Because I want you to cum on my dick first. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside you, y’know?” he said casually, pulling off his shirt like it was nothing and revealing his impressive 6-pack. One thing that you were always in awe of was his figure. Jungkook was a really athletic person, always finding time out of his day to work out and maintain his muscular body. You didn’t mind if he didn’t have abs but it neutralized his cute face that could easily kill anyone.

“It’s been a while, yeah? You ready kitten?” Jungkook kicked off his jeans and his boxer that covers his massive bulge was immediately in your vision. You could feel your thighs rubbing together as you were craving him inside you.

“You’re calling me kitten now?” you mumbled shyly as he sat on the edge of the bed, palming his hardened member.

“Yeah because you’re my cute kitty, aren’t you? Do you want to take off my boxers for me?” he smirked, knowing how excited you are to see him like this again. Like there was no tomorrow, you yanked it off impatiently and his dick sprang out, hitting his abs before standing up instantly.

“You’re excited, aren’t you? Don’t deny it,” Jungkook teased, stroking his member teasingly before setting you down on your back and hovering above you.

“I want it,” you mumbled impatiently, getting excited with the thought of him fucking you until you can’t walk again. He chuckled at your reaction, slowly slipping himself inside you. You shrieked from the sudden movement and tried to make yourself comfortable even though this wasn’t new to you.

“Alright baby, let’s go,” he said gruffly, slowly pulling out and slamming it back inside within the next five seconds. You let out a scream as he picked up the pace into the all-too familiar rough and fast one.

“Damn, you’ve gotten way tighter since the last time I’ve fucked your brains out. Feels so good for Sir,” he groaned, his dick completely filling you warm and deep to the point where it could nearly reach your guts. “Does my baby like that? Like getting dicked down where I can feel her in your stomach?” “Ahh, oh my god!” You could only moan and whine in response, pathetic noises coming out of your mouth as Jungkook’s dick hit every surface of your pussy. His veins already made it even more pleasurable and you could feel the tip grazing upon your g-spot, making you even more sensitive.

It hasn’t been long but embarrassingly, you could feel your orgasm arrive once again due to how good his dick was thrusting into you. As he continued to drill your abused cunt, you could feel your legs tremble at the sensitive feeling and the impending sensation of your orgasm starting to grow in your core.

“S-sir, oh my god-” you mewled as Jungkook used his force to flip you on your stomach, your face covered in the pillows. You couldn’t feel him inside you for a second but suddenly, he slammed inside you with no remorse and continued fucking you at that fast pace.

Your cunt throbs as you prepare yourself to cum all over his dick. Jungkook could sense it too by the way your walls started to tighten around him, making it even more pleasurable than the last time you two had sex due to how tight you were. You were praying that he doesn’t deny your orgasm again but there were times where he was that cruel. But you’ve behaved enough to not warrant that type of treatment.

“Is my baby gonna cum now? Go on, come for me, I want to see you come undone on my dick,” he chanted lowly, his pace fastening due to his orgasm coming in soon. Like his words set off a reaction inside you, you screamed out his name and squirted on his dick and stomach. Using that as fuel to keep going, Jungkook thrusts even faster than before to catch his own high as you try to calm yourself down from your own orgasm.

“Ahh, Jungkook-” you whined from the sensitivity but you kept holding on so he could cum too. The way his sweat dripped off of his forehead and complimenting with his dark locks nearly made you want to cum again.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, oh shit,” he moaned out, his thrusts slowing down and surely enough, you could feel his dick spurt out his seed inside you. He started to pull out and stroke himself, spurts of his cum filling up your pussy to not waste a drop.

You and him started to breathe heavily from the intense fuck as you gingerly pulled up the sheets to cover your body. It’s not like you were embarrassed of him seeing your body, it was a habit you did after you have sex with him.

“Did you miss me?” he smiled, lying down next to you and covering an arm around your waist. You nodded, snuggling up next to him on the neck of his crook. There weren't any words spoken from the both of you for a while, instead you were just enjoying the presence of him next to you because after today, he’ll be gone again.

If you had it your way, you didn’t want him to go but he really wanted to participate in his boxing match and what kind of girlfriend were you if you didn’t support him? Still, you loved every moment with him and he was the one thing you absolutely loved in your life.

After a moment of silence, Jungkook broke the silence by facing towards you with seriousness in his eyes. You were worried that something may have happened, so you braced yourself with the worst that could happen. But surprisingly, his words were a bigger shock than any other disaster you could think of.

“Y/N, do you mind if I ask something of you? I hope you don’t find it uncomfortable or invasive.” “Sure, what is it?” You should’ve known from the cheeky smirk he gave you that he was going to request this type of stuff.

“I want to see you touch yourself. I think you’ll look so hot fucking yourself with your fingers while all I’m doing is just watching you.” “What the hell?!”

You were lying if you said you didn’t think about it a lot, especially since Jungkook left the house today this afternoon. Now that he wasn’t there, the apartment felt lonely again and you automatically missed him.

However, the thought of him also brings you back to the conversation you had after you two had sex after a while.

“You’ve never touched yourself? I figured that something like that would come easy to you!” “Well- you know I have dignity right! It’s already embarrassing enough that I’m your submissive!”

“You’re right, it’s already hot seeing you act all whiny and needy for my touch.” “Shut up! Stop making fun of me!”

You shook your head, trying to get rid of Jungkook’s words. With the intent to clean your room to take some stuff out of your mind, you walked to the shared bedroom and started to rearrange random knick-knacks that were placed in peculiar locations.

While you were wandering around, your eye caught sight of a black duffel bag that was in a hidden corner of your bed. With curiosity, you approached it to check to see what was inside. It was heavy and filled with boxing gloves and other equipment, meaning that it was Jungkook’s.

He must’ve forgotten it when he left today, you mused, holding the glove to your chest. A normal person would immediately contact him and give it back but it was like a living piece of him, having its name and scent. You can’t believe you already miss him that much to hold onto his boxing gloves for some comfort. How pathetic.

The smell of him already reminded you of yesterday, when he touched you and made you feel so good. You groaned to yourself as you feel your panties dampening just from the thought of Jungkook giving you pleasure.

“Y’know what, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Alright Jungkook, I’ll do it,” you muttered to yourself as you slowly grazed your fingers to your lower region. You could already feel the slick coming out of your panties, signalling how wet you were.

You were a smart person but frankly, you were confused on how to touch yourself especially since this was your first time. Memories of the way Jungkook inserted and thrusted his fingers inside you flashed through your mind, giving you an idea on how to start.

You slide your panties off to your ankles and slowly insert your index finger inside of your core, letting yourself get familiar to your own fingers inside of you. It sure felt different than when Jungkook did it, it wasn’t enough to completely make you feel undone. You pumped another finger inside, giving you something inside at least but it was no better than Jungkook’s touch.

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moaned softly, flicking your own clit with your fingers which makes the pleasure at least a bit better. You would rather have him with you but it was enough to fill up a small part of his absence. Remembering every time he fucked you harshly was enough to quicken your pace with your fingers, your walls clenching around them and your orgasm closely approaching.

Your other hand groped your breasts, flicking your nipple and massaging them while the other was thrusting in and out of your needy cunt. You were completely in your own euphoria, the world completely fading away from you. Unfortunately for you, that euphoria is only short-lived.

An annoying sound ran throughout your room, the culprit being your cell phone. You groaned with disappointment as you attempted to pry your fingers out of your pussy and your orgasm fading away with every time the ringtone chimed.

With your slick-covered hands, you read the text and your blood started to run cold from the words that were displayed on the screen.

[Jungkook ♡]

- Hi babe, I’m coming home bc I forgot my boxing bag.

- Sorry that this was sudden

- Actually, I’m outside the apartment rn

You’re fucked. Absolutely fucked. But lucky, you still had a minute to spare to make it seem like you weren’t doing anything. You put his boxing glove back in the bag and wobbled downstairs to the front door. The door locks started to jingle and you immediately opened them just for him to take his bag and go. You love him with all of your heart but now’s not the time to chat with him.

“Hey Y/N, do you have my bag?” he asked across from you, looking as good as ever. You forced a smile and shoved his bag in front of your face.

“Yeah, it’s this one right? So, here it is so you can get going now! Goodbye!” you grinned, sweat dripping down your face.

Jungkook looked puzzled on why you were acting that way but decided to go along with it. “O-okay, thanks.”

“Of course! Now, you should get going now! Your boxing rehearsal isn’t going to wait forever, is it?” you chuckled, trying to push him out of the door but he didn’t budge. After taking a quick glance at you (more specifically your legs and the amount of slick dripping down), he decided to stay.

“Woah, woah, there’s something going on. Let me in,” he said stubbornly, pushing against you to get inside the apartment.

“What are you talking about? There’s literally nothing going on! You should go back to the boxing place!” you argued but he wouldn’t listen. Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs into the bedroom and set you down, looking straight into your eyes. You immediately blushed as his eyes held such confusion and hunger inside.

“Don’t lie to me, only bad girls lie. So tell me baby, what exactly is going on?”

Surely he didn’t know right? You still have some time to lie because there’s no way he knows.

“I was taking a nap before you texted me.”

“Without your panties on and a shit ton of slick dripping down your thighs?” he asked with confusion, pulling up your skirt and revealing your soaking pussy, throbbing due to the atmosphere. At this point, you were absolutely stuck in a corner as Jungkook stared at the way you’re completely aroused.

“Ahh, um..” “Are you cheating on me, Y/N?” His eyes were now full of sadness and hurt and you could immediately feel your heart start to break.

“N-no! Of course not! I would never cheat on you, you’re the one who I love! It’s just because..” you tried to get the idea out of his head, holding his hands tightly. Jungkook’s face brightened up a bit before being replaced with suspicion.

“So, what’s up? What were you doing while I left?” There was absolutely no talking yourself out of this because Jungkook would find out either way at this point. But at least it’s better than making up a stupid lie, right? “I..um..remember how you said you wanted to see me touch myself yesterday?” “Of course.” “Well...I was doing that..” you mumbled with embarrassment, avoiding his eye contact. Jungkook’s ears picked up what you said and his face lit up with excitement and desire.

“Say that again for me?” he smirked, loving how soft and shy you were now.

“I..was touching myself while I was thinking of you,” you said a bit loudly but it was still so embarrassing. You had no idea why he was all so happy right now but it made you happy nonetheless.

“Do you think you can show me?” he grinned, staring up into your eyes.

“What?! N-no! It’s private right? You see, it’s private for a reason! Now you got your bag and figured out why I was acting weird so you can go now!” you snapped, heat automatically filling up your body.

“It’s okay, I can skip practice today. This is important, why didn’t you tell me?” “It’s not something I should tell you.” “Anyways, you’ve been a bad girl today. Touching yourself while thinking of me, you’re so naughty. So your punishment is to reenact what you did before I came back and I’m not leaving until I see you touch yourself. But don’t worry, if you need help then I’m always here,” Jungkook purred, his dominant persona on. You gulped down a lump down your throat but you weren’t ready to back down to him yet.

“No I’m not! I’m not giving up my dignity just yet!” “Come on, little girl. I know you were fucking yourself like a little whore while you were gone. Did your tiny little fingers fill you up completely, better than my cock? I know you didn’t because even though you’re a whore, you’re still such a slut for my dick.” His dirty words made you even more turned on than normal with even more slick running down your thighs. You knew it was better to obey, especially since he’s talking like this. With that being said, you scooted yourself with the back of your head hitting the bed frame. After a minute of hesitation, you lifted up your skirt which revealed your whole pussy to him. Jungkook stared intently, noticing every little twitch that it made as it’s longing for something to be inside it and how wet it has become. His lips were curled into a smirk as your fingers started to graze over your folds.

Taking a deep breath, you inserted two of your fingers to aid the throbbing in your core. It felt different than when you did it before, maybe due to Jungkook staring at every little movement you made.

Despite your initial refusal, having him watch over you turned you on even more and the throbbing only continued to get worse after you slowly started to move your fingers. You didn’t know how much it turned you and him on, judging from his erection in his pants.

“Ahh, oh my god,” you moaned, adding an additional finger and groping your boobs with your other hand.

Jungkook’s mouth was in shock, shocked at how you can look so sexy touching yourself even though it was your first time. His dick was begging to be released in his now tight sweatpants but just watching you like this was more than enough.

He’s never admitted it directly to you but surprisingly, he’s such a voyeur and seeing you wrecked with only your fingers or even a toy could make him cum as hard as him actually fucking you.

“J-Jungkook, please…” you mewled, rocking your hips against your small hands in an attempt to hit your g-spot, where only your boyfriend knows.

By now, you’ve inserted your whole hand inside of your core and it still wasn’t as satisfying as Jungkook’s long fingers inside you. You should’ve been embarrassed that his vision was at you masterbating but frankly, you didn’t care anymore.

“Shit baby girl, just like that, fucking ruin yourself,” he grunted, slightly stroking his hardened member through his sweatpants.

“I want your mouth on me,” you cried, slowly starting to feel the same ecstatic feeling of your release. The way his eyes were set on you alone brings you closer to your high as you’re practically grinding on your hand.

Luckily, Jungkook heard your wish and immediately brought his face down to your core, taking your fingers out and licking your clit like there was no tomorrow. His face was completely buried with the goal of eating you out and getting your cum out of you. It wasn’t a thought that ever crossed your mind but you never realized how much better Jungkook made you feel and how the throbbing seemed to go away after he was with you. His face was absolutely covered in your juices and adding to his warm mouth were his long fingers.

“You like that don’t you, you slutty little girl?” he hummed, the vibrations of his mouth making you even more closer to the edge. You gripped onto his arm tightly, your fingernails dragging along his muscles due to how much he was giving you.

You felt his fingers curl against you, hitting your g-spot and bringing you closer to your climax. It felt too good and you were craving to be ruined by him. Jungkook stared at the way you were shoving his hand amongst your tight little cunt, grinding on it as you try to reach your high and the squelching sounds it made.

Within seconds, you were close to your orgasm and you were trying to chase after it feverishly. His tongue and his fingers were too much for you, even though you received them last night. They made you feel so satisfied and full, always filling you up to the edge and the way he was hitting every spot nearly made you cream all over his fingers.

Unfortunately for you, he immediately pulled his fingers and mouth away, completely denying you of releasing. The hot feeling and intensity disappeared instantly and was replaced by the familiar throbbing as you let out a groan of disappointment. This was the second time you’ve lost your orgasm and you just wanted to release on him once more.

“Why did you stop? I was going to-” you growled, your face heating up due to the increased temperature inside.

“You’re not going to cum when I’m away. Is that a rule you can follow?” he said sharply, licking every remain of your juices off his face and wiping the excess with a tissue.

“W-why?” “Instead, I want you to send me a video touching yourself but not cumming until my match. Is that an order my little girl can do?”

You absolutely hated the fact that you won’t be releasing for a while but you didn’t want to get him mad. All you can do is just accept your fate and nod.

“There you go, don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel so good once I win,” he grinned, kissing you passionately. You could immediately taste yourself on his lips and felt his hardened member upon you. There were more things that the two of you would’ve done but he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Well then, I’ll be off. You’ll behave, right?” he parted cheerily, grabbing his bag and leaving the apartment like he didn’t just completely ate you out and denied your orgasm for the second time. As you heard the door lock, you’re left with your skirt drenched from your juices and the aching feeling between your legs.

Oh the things that Jungkook does to you. But what would happen if you gave him a little surprise during his boxing match. Surely, you weren’t that submissive and besides, it would be fun to tease him..

“You did great man!” Taehyung cheered, high-fiving Jungkook as soon as his match ended. He shared the same with a bunny-like smile and went inside the locker room to clean up to see you. Not only did he win but he’s going to be staying with you for a while now.

With a bright spirit, he unlocked his locker and opened his phone to a text message from you. There was an attachment with a seemingly innocent message but once he opened the video, it only fueled his desire.

[Y/N ♡]

- I miss you so much

Inside of the video was you fucking yourself with your fingers, high-pitched and incoherent whimpers coming out of you and from the looks of it, it was like you’re about to reach your climax.

Within the last few seconds, it cuts to you creaming all over the bed and licking your juices off of your fingers seductively with a cute wink at the end. All of that just to rile and tease him.

Shit, the things that this girl does to me, Jungkook sighs, feeling his member starting to grow inside of his pants again. They were simple instructions yet you can’t obey properly. Maybe it was due to you being a brat and wanting to be put in your place again.

Well, if there’s one thing that you and Jungkook know, is that you’ll certainly not walk the next day.

a/n: honestly, i’m not too proud of this but i hope you liked it regardless! let me know what you think and have a great day <3

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wholesomemendes · 4 years

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Summary: You’re a junior in college who spends almost all of your time stuck in either your dorm room or the library until you’re forced to go to a frat party where you meet Shawn, who immediately changes your whole college experience.

Author’s Note: I’m backkkkkk. I am so so excited about this one. This was based off a request I got in like May or something like that basically so insanely long ago and I never got to it because I knew it was going to be long. I kinda went off track with the request too a little bit, but I hope you love it as much as I do. It’s my baby so please be kind (also it’s my birthday so please don’t hurt my feelings too much lol). As always, I love hearing any type of feedback and I love you all x

Word Count: 12.2k

The door of your dorm room slammed open as your roommate rushed inside, frantically throwing her bag onto her bed and rummaging through her closet. You peered over the top of your laptop where you were busy editing an essay you had just finished for a class, watching her distressed state with curious eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked almost breathlessly, settling on a silk, light pink top with a plunging v-neck and a short black skirt.

“Why are you rushing so much? Where are you going?”

You would’ve thought you had grown three heads by the way she looked at you and the way she rolled her eyes when she noticed you were being dead serious made you slightly cave in on yourself in disappointment. “How do you not know what’s going on tonight? Sigma Alpha Epsilon is throwing another one of their huge parties, it’s all everyone has been talking about for the past two weeks.”

“I don’t know, must’ve just gone over my head,” you mumbled, feeling a little self-conscious about your lack of knowledge on what was going on in the social life of your campus. Ninety-nine percent of the time your head was stuck in a book or hunched over your laptop doing homework in the library so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that this party was nowhere on your radar.

“Well now you know, so you’re going with me. Chop chop you’ve got to get dressed.”

“HA, you think I’m going to a party?”

She raised an eyebrow at you, silently challenging you to disagree with her, “Um, yes you are. Connor invited me which means I’m inviting you because he invites like 20 girls and I don’t want to be stuck alone all night.”

“You’re not going to be alone all night,” you sighed, closing your laptop before swinging your legs off the side of the bed, “You’re popular enough on campus that you’ll be able to find someone to hang out there with if I’m not there.”

“I know, but it’d be more fun if you were there with me. Pleaseeeeeee.” Natalie pulled out her best puppy dog eyes on you, her bottom lip jutting out to make her face look more innocent, “I’ll even do your makeup and hair for you….and you can borrow some of my clothes!”

“What, are my clothes not good enough or something?”

“They are! They’re just a little too, what’s the word I’m looking for, conservative for a party. You need something a little bit scandalous, you know? Gotta give the boys a little something something.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you before letting out a huff of annoyance and getting up to grab your hand to pull you off of the bed, “Come on, no excuses. Let’s get you ready for tonight.”

__________________________

This wasn’t your scene. Natalie had left you to go play beer pong about thirty minutes after you stepped foot into the loud, alcohol-stenched frat house, but you soon lost sight of her when Connor whisked her away after their team won against two other frat boys to what you could only assume would be his bedroom. You didn’t mind that she left you, you’d rather have one of you enjoying yourself then have her be miserable trying to entertain you. The tight shirt and skirt Natalie forced you into didn’t seem like such a bad idea when you were staring at yourself in the mirror of your dorm (to be honest the way she did your hair and makeup gave you a newfound confidence you hadn’t had in years), but now as you stood in the corner of the kitchen quietly nursing your drink while your eyes scanned the crowd of sweaty college students, you couldn’t feel more insecure and self-conscious. Your arms wrapped around your center, desperately trying to cover up what little skin was to be seen and you wished that Natalie would come down those stairs any second to go back to your dorm with you. You were so lost in your thoughts you hardly noticed the stench of beer get stronger around you or the heat of another body on your shoulder until the unknown person was up against you. “Hey,” the boy who you recognized from one of your writing classes and were pretty sure was a part of another fraternity on campus slurred, “You wanna come dance with me, sexy?”

“Um, no I’m ok, thanks though.” You tried to turn and walk away from him, but were stopped abruptly by his hand gripping your wrist and pulling you closer to him again.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he breathed into your ear, hot breath fanning across your face in the process making you cringe inward on yourself, “I’d love to feel that ass of yours up against me.”

“I said no, I don’t want to dance with you.” You could feel the panic rising in your throat, causing your words to come out broken and weak, and you desperately wished someone would see the fear in your eyes and come help you. His grip on you tightened the more you resisted and in that moment you wished you had never been stupid enough to listen to Natale about how fun this party was going to be.

“And I said you should come dance with me. So why don’t you-” HIs hand was pried off your wrist in seconds and you rubbed the spot where it had left, holding it close to your chest in fear.

“I think she already said no, buddy.” Your savior came in the form of a curly, brown haired boy that stood at least a couple inches over your unwanted dance partner. A scowl was evident on his face, his brown eyes hard and dark, “Now you should probably get out before I ban you from ever stepping foot in this place again.” The other boy left, but not before rudely shoulder checking the person you believed was your hero, which only earned him a scoff in return. “God, can’t stand people like that. They have no common decency for anyone.” He made eye contact with you for the first time that night and your heart skipped a beat, your body feeling somewhat small compared to his tall height. He saw the fearful look in your eyes and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder before looking you up and down for any signs of damage from the previous encounter, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am now that you saved me,” you mumbled slightly, lowering your gaze to your cup in order to avoid his worried look, “Thank you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Well I’m glad I could help. I’m Shawn, by the way, I don’t think we’ve ever met.” Sticking his hand out for you to shake, he gave you a dazzling smile and you immediately recognized him as the president of the fraternity, the one your roommate was constantly talking about trying to get into his pants. Seeing him up close for the first time, you couldn’t help but understand why all the girls wanted to get with him and why a lot of those girls did get with him. There was a blue bandana wrapped around his head pushing back the beautiful curls that adorned his head and his chiseled jaw and bright eyes entranced you, making it hard to look away. His black t-shirt was frayed at the top near the buttons, allowing his few chest hairs to peak out, and his muscles practically bulged out of the short sleeves. You noticed a few tattoos along his arms, one being the one all of the hockey players got after they won their championship, as you shook his hand, but his strong grip broke you out of your thoughts and forced you to look at him again.

“I’m Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Do you need another drink? I know where all of the good alcohol is if you want it,” he winked at you, a smug smirk on his lips as he held his hand up to his face as if he was telling you something top secret.

You looked at the almost empty beer in your hand sadly, but the thought of getting another drink absolutely disgusted you at the moment, “No thank you. I think I’m going to head out actually, I’m a little shaken up to be honest.”

“Don’t go because of that!” Shawn’s voice sounded rushed as if he desperately wanted you to stay, though you pushed the thought aside, knowing that he couldn’t care less about what you did. “If you want you can stay by me for the rest of the night or if you came with someone you can always use my name, I’ve learned it can get you a long way sometimes.”

Your eyes met his once again and you tried to push the butterflies that you were feeling down your throat. “I’m just here with my roommate, but I think she went up with one of your friends,” you admitted bashfully, rubbing your hand up and down your arm nervously, “I haven’t seen her in awhile. Parties aren’t exactly my thing, I’m only here because she forced me to come, so I think I’m just going to text her and then head out.”

“You’re going to walk home alone? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t have any better ones right now.”

“Easy. I’ll walk you home.” He leaned against one of the walls comfortably as he spoke, a large smile on his face the entire time. There wasn’t a look of regret on his face, but you still questioned his motives. Why would he want to go out of his way to make sure you got home safe? Was he just trying to get you in bed with him? But if he was then why was he so adamant about getting that guy off of you?

“Don’t worry about it Shawn, really, I’ll be ok.”

“It’s either that or you’re staying in my room tonight so you don’t have to walk home alone.” There was a confident look in his eyes and he knew he had you beat, causing you to roll your eyes before walking past him towards the door.

His eyes followed you curiously as you walked away, watching as you turned around and beckoned him forward, “Come on then, I want to be asleep before 4,” leaving him to trail behind you like a puppy at your feet. __________________________

The two of you walked to your dorms in a mix of comfortable silence and easy conversation that sparked in the 10 minutes it took to get you home. It was surprising how little awkward tension there was for two people on completely different sides of the spectrum who had never met before today, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You learned he was majoring in music, something that his parents weren’t one hundred percent confident with, though they still supported him nonetheless he assured you, and that he had been playing hockey since he was 6. The moment you got to the door of your building you stopped, ready to thank him for walking with you and move on with the rest of your night, preferably reading your essay one more time before heading to bed, but Shawn had other plans. “Why’d you stop? Did you forget your key or something?”

“No,” you looked at him with furrowed brows, “I think I can walk up to my dorm myself.”

He crossed his arms defensively with a stern look on his face, “Oh I get it, you don’t want me to know which room you’re in. I saved you from some creep and you still think I’m just like him don’t you."

“It’s not that, I just don’t feel comfortable bringing you up to my dorm after we just met.”

“Which is a big deal because…”

“Isn’t me saying that it makes me uncomfortable enough of a reason?” you asked him, mimicking his position as a tiny bit of anger grew inside of you.

Shawn scoffed, rolling his eyes at your words, “Honey, if I wanted to get you in my bed, you’d already be in there by now. There’s no reason to worry about me doing anything to you if you let me walk you up there.”

“Excuse me? Just because you’ve gotten with the entire cheerleading team…”

“Not true...”

“And at least half of the sorority girls…”

“Half is pushing it a little bit…”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d be able to get with me. I don’t have time for a relationship right now and I don’t do random hookups, thank you very much. So thank you for saving me at the party and thank you for walking me home, but that will be all. Good night, Shawn.” With that you turned on your heels, using your key card before slamming the door in his face and heading up the stairs to your dorm. You couldn’t believe it. Right when you thought you were forming a type of friendship or a least mutual respect for someone that wasn’t your roommate it all fell apart like it always did. What were you thinking when Shawn Mendes was the definition of a frat boy? Why would he want to be friends with someone like you? You couldn’t even lie and say that it didn’t hurt a little when he said he would’ve already tried to get you in bed if he wanted to. Were you really that ugly that the boy who practically got with any female that wanted to didn’t want to get with you? Not that you would sleep with him if he had asked you, you did have an unspoken rule with yourself that you didn’t want to do hookups in college, but at least knowing that he found you attractive would have given you a slight confidence boost. You already hated how you had never been asked out by the boys in college, even though you weren’t exactly looking for a guy or putting yourself out there to be asked on a date, and how every girl seemed to sneer at you when you walked past. So that night you cuddled yourself under the covers, vowing to never step foot in another frat house again no matter how much Natalie begged. __________________________

“What are you doing tonight?” Natalie launched herself onto your bed, causing you to let out a groan when she landed on you.

You pushed her off of you while she laughed, making you roll your eyes, “Probably just binge watching some Netflix honestly. Why?”

“Really? That wasn’t what I thought you’d say at all.”

“What’d you think I was going to say?” you laughed as she sat up and leaned against your wall.

“Oh, something along the lines of ‘I have to study for a test that I’ve already taken and rewrite my essay for the thirtieth time’”, she said in a high pitched voice you soon realized was her impression of you.

“Hey, I do not sound like that! And besides, laugh all you want about it, but I’m at the top of the class so I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, I’m just surprised you’re giving yourself a break.”

“I am,” you told her with a smile, “I have no homework to finish tonight or tests coming up or essays that need to be turned in, so I’m finally letting myself have a night off.”

“Or…”

You raised an eyebrow at her, “Or what.”

“Or you could come to the hockey game tonight with me so I’m not alone.”

“Oh hell no, Nat, I’m not doing this again.” You grabbed your laptop off of your side table, already ready to pop open your tv series for the night.

“What do you mean you’re not doing this again? It’ll be fun!”

“Last time you convinced me to go somewhere I almost got harassed by a drunk frat boy and then I got into an argument with another frat boy while you were busy hooking up with a different one.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” she scoffed, climbing off the bed, “Besides, you’ve never been to a hockey game before and you’re a junior. No offense, but do you know how pathetic that sounds. Our school is literally known for hockey! Just once and then I’ll never ask you to go again.” You gave her a stern look, one that threatened her to ask again, but when she flashed her eyes at you, you immediately gave in, rolling your eyes at yourself and already hating yourself for agreeing.

“Fine, but you can’t leave my side the entire night.”

“I promise I won’t! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She brought you into a bone crushing hug before releasing you in favor of searching through her closet for something for the both of you to wear. __________________________

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t enjoying yourself a little bit. Opposed to last time Natalie was still sitting by your side and you had managed to convince her to let you wear one of your school hoodies and a pair of leggings to keep warm instead of the (as she phrased it) ‘hot ass’ outfit she had picked out for you. It was the final 10 minutes of the game and your team was ahead by four points, something everyone had been assured was an easy win from the start. Still, you could tell why everyone liked going to the games, it was energetic and loud and everything you thought a college game would be, but not as overwhelming. Even though Natalie had decided to sit next to Connor and they were relentlessly flirting and managing to have physical contact with one another the entire time, you were so focused on the game that it wasn’t bothering you as much as you imagined it would when you first sat down. You were entranced by the way the players skated across the ice, your eyes immediately drawing to one player in particular that seemed so comfortable on the ice. The moment you saw the back of his jersey though, MENDES written in bright white lettering, your heart dropped a little bit, not wanting to watch him as much as you were. Though it was hard not to when there was a clear reason he was made captain, so you were left to shamelessly follow his fast, steady movements across the ice.

The game soon ended with a win as expected and you were forced to follow Natalie and Connor deeper into the crowd of students to congratulate the team after they came out of their locker room. The crowd was cheering, adrenaline pumping through the air as you walked down the halls until you reached a large open space. Not long after all of the boys were making their way out, Shawn leading the pack like a true captain. A large portion of the girls (mostly puck bunnies or sorority girls or even some that just wanted some attention from the star himself) immediately crowded along Shawn and you could tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying every last second of it. His eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment before landing on yours and you swore you could see his smile falter until it became even brighter than before. He excused himself from the hoard of girls as he headed your way, making your heart stop. Was he really coming to see you? What were you going to say? “Good job”? No, you don’t want to congratulate him, he was rude to you the other night. Don’t let him know how you couldn’t stop watching him the entire game, he doesn’t need another boost to his already huge ego. Is he gonna say something first? What if he…

“Hey man, how’d it look from the crowd?” Shawn asked as he bro-hugged Connor. Your heart dropped. Of course he was coming over here to talk to one of his best friends, why would you think he was coming for you? But you could’ve sworn the two of you had made eye contact. Were you really that stupid?

“Great as always, they were easy today anyways.”

“Yeah we went a little easy on them. Last time we absolutely creamed them and then I got threats from their team about how ‘we were gonna pay for embarrassing them like that,’” Shawn scoffed, “Like we were the ones who embarrassed them.” He turned his head, sending a bright smile your way before finally acknowledging you for the first time tonight, “I’ve never seen you at a game before, do you always leave right after it ends?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, wondering if you should just lie or admit how antisocial you truly were, “No, um this is actually my first hockey game.” Ok, admitting how antisocial you are it is.

“Your first hockey game? What year are you?”

“I’m a junior…”

“You’re a junior and this is your first hockey game?”

“Oh calm down, it’s not that big of a deal,” Natalie chimed in, sensing your discomfort at the situation at hand.

“Wait, don’t tell me.” Shawn rubbed his forehead as if he was thinking before snapping his fingers in Natalie’s direction, “You must be Natalie, right? Y/n was telling me all about you the other night.”

“The other night?”

“Yeah, I walked her home after the party last week. She didn’t tell you?”

Her eyes went wide, looking in your direction with her mouth hanging open while you caved in on yourself, “No, she failed to mention that you were the one to walk her home.”

“Damn, you were that ashamed of me, eh?” Shawn let out a light chuckle before slinging an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

“Wasn’t exactly my proudest moment,” you mumbled, trying your hardest not to lean into his body that seemed so tempting. You didn’t know what body wash he used in his shower, the shower was evident by the slightly wet hair on his head that made him look absolutely breathtaking, but it was extremely inviting and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle your head into his chest and breathe it through your senses.

“Anyways, are you two coming to the party tonight?”

“I mean…” Natalie started, but you cut her off immediately.

“No, we’re heading back after this,” you gave a pointed look in her direction, “Right, Nat?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh come on, don’t be such a party pooper Y/n,” Shawn whined, ruffling your hair and laughing as you swatted his arm away.

“I’m not a party pooper, I’m just,” you stuttered for a second trying to find a decent excuse, “Just not quite dressed appropriately for a party, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense, I think you look great. But if it’s that big of a deal you can borrow my practice jersey and you’ll be all set.” Before you could protest Shawn was already reaching down into his duffle bag and producing a bright blue jersey with his name on the back. It was clear that this wasn’t just some jersey you’d buy in the school spirit shop, it looked as professional as it could, except the different design and tattered edges showed that it was made for practice.

“I’m not putting that on.”

“Why not? I promise it doesn’t smell and besides, don’t you want to let Nat have some fun?” He waved the jersey in front of you with a teasing smile on your face, causing you to roll your eyes before you snatched it out of his grip and pulled it over your sweatshirt. “That’s what I thought,” Shawn smirked as he put his arm back around your shoulders, “Now come on, I’ll drive, Y/n can be shot gun.” __________________________

No more than ten minutes later you were parked back at the same frat house you had been at the week prior and the mere thought of it made you sick. However, you didn’t know how much longer you could stay in Shawn’s jeep where he was stealing glances at you every five seconds and trying to annoy you in every way possible. He’d find every way possible to try and touch you in some way, whether it was a poke in the face or moving a strand of hair behind your ear, and constantly make comments that you wanted to laugh at, but wouldn’t be caught dead showing him that. So the second he parked you were already out of the car, breathing in a deep breath of clean air to make sure the scent of Shawn that was so heavy in his jeep would leave your senses. “Wow, was the drive that bad that you’re so eager to leave?”

You were praying with every ounce of your body that Shawn couldn’t see the blush on your face when he made eye contact on with you that teasing smile on his face, but the way Natalie snickered as she got out of the back of the jeep told you that she definitely knew. “No, I just get claustrophobic easily, that’s all.”

“Mhm.” Shawn looked at you, obviously not believing your excuse, but still motioning you towards the front door nonetheless. There was already a fair amount of people inside, at least enough to make you cringe at the thought of being there. Shawn had a light hold on your arm before leaning into your ear to make sure that you heard him, “I’m going to go get us some drinks. What do you want?”

“I don’t care, you can pick. Just please no shots of anything.”

“Ok, I’ll be back.”

Natalie and Connor were already god knows where, so you were left standing in the main foyer of the frat house, holding your arms around yourself while you looked around awkwardly, waiting for Shawn to return. You felt the familiar feeling of nervousness creeping up your throat and you forced yourself to focus on the smell of Shawn’s jersey and how warm it felt around you as a way to calm your rapid beating heart. He had only been gone a few minutes before someone else was approaching you, making your heart drop when you remembered what went down the last time you were here. “Hey, you wanna come dance with me?”

Hearing those words made you want to throw up, but you tried to keep your head up and your gaze unbothered while you prayed for Shawn to come back. “No thank you.”

“Well, can I go get you a drink then?”

“No, someone’s already…”

The feeling of an arm wrapping around you caused you to freeze until your nose caught onto the scent you had been unintentionally enjoying all night and you allowed yourself to relax into him. “I already got it for her. I think she’s all set, buddy.” The other guy got the hint quickly and backed away into the crowd until he was no more than a mere drop in a pool of people. “Damn, can’t even leave you alone for two seconds before you got some guy hitting on you,” Shawn laughed, but quickly stopped once he noticed the terrified look on your face. “Hey,” he placed a hand on your face to bring your eyes to his, “Did he touch you? Or hurt you?”

“No, no he didn’t, I’m still just a little shaken up from last time I guess,” you mumbled, bringing your gaze down to where your hands were engulfed in the fabric of your sweatshirt, “I’m sorry you have to keep saving me.”

“That’s understandable, it’s never a pleasant experience. And you never need to thank me, it’s just common decency.” You refused to meet his eyes again, but you heard his sigh before he gently grabbed your hand in his and handed you your drink. Your heart fluttered when he took your other hand in his grasp, the feeling of his rough calluses overwhelming your senses. “What do you say we go dance? Get your mind off of things for a little bit, let loose.”

“I don’t know Shawn, I’m not the greatest dancer…”

“You don’t have to be. I promise it will be fun.”

You knew there was a ninety-nine percent chance that you were going to embarrass yourself completely in front of him, but the way he was staring at you like it would break his heart if you said no made up your mind for you in a second. “Ok, let’s go.”

A wide smile broke out on Shawn’s face before he dragged you into the crowd, finding a spot he deemed fit for the two of you to dance in. It started out with just a simple step touch as you started to feel the rhythm of the music and allow yourself to relax as much as possible while sipping on the drink he got you. He tried to make small talk with you even over the loud music, resulting in him having to brush his lips against your ear as he spoke to you. Your heart fluttered with each movement and the alcohol you were consuming wasn’t making it any easier when he’d laugh at something you said, his bright brown eyes crinkling from his cheeks. As the night got longer and your cup became emptier, the distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller until your chest was pressed right against his. His free hand came up to naturally grasp your waist, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. On the contrary, it made your stomach do flips that you couldn’t control even if you wanted to. His face was getting close, too close for your muddled brain to do anything rational about it. You didn’t know exactly what was put in the drink (it was delicious though and you knew he would tell you if you asked), but as a light weight you were definitely feeling the effects of it, so just as his nose touched the tip of yours you pulled away, muttering in his ear about how you had to use the bathroom before running off away from the crowd.

After winding through the halls of the house and passing multiple people making out against the walls, you finally reached the bathroom where you shut the door in a hurry, allowing yourself to take a deep breath as you leaned against the counter. Your eyes lifted up to stare at your reflection in the mirror, your brain struggling to process what had just happened. Was he going to kiss you? Was this his plan all along, to get you comfortable enough around him to have you wrapped around his finger? No, that couldn’t have been it. He was so easy to talk to and seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say and what you were doing. He wouldn’t do that just to get with you, would he? Your thoughts are interrupted by a series of knocks on the door, followed by a worried voice, “Y/n? Are you ok in there?”

“Yeah! I’ll, um, I’ll be right out!” You splashed some water onto your face in an effort to calm yourself down to a degree before opening the door to be met with Shawn’s concerned face.

“I’m sorry if I rushed you. You just ran out of there so quick I was worried something happened.”

Your heart swelled at how much he seemed to care about you and you willed the heat to leave your face, “No, I’m ok. I did feel a little crowded in there, but I’m ok now, thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. What do you say we go to the kitchen for a little bit to talk in there? It usually isn’t too crowded this far into the party.” You allowed him to take your hand and lead you into the kitchen where, like he said, was completely empty besides a few people every now and then that would come to refill their glass. Most of the alcohol had been moved into various places of the house so there was no fear of a bunch of hammered students coming in and ruining the place. There was a comforting silence between the two of you for a moment, the only sound being the music that could be heard from the main room as you both leaned against the counter next to one another. “I’m glad you came to the game tonight,” Shawn broke the silence, looking at you with a sincere look in his eye, “And thanks for letting me drag you to this party.”

“I don’t think I could’ve said no to the party, you’re pretty convincing,” you admitted, downing the last sip of your drink, “You were really good tonight, too. I never told you earlier, but I couldn’t stop watching you as you played. It’s obvious why you were chosen as captain.”

Shawn let out a nervous chuckle, his own cheeks showing a hint of pink to them, “Thanks, it means a lot. Do you want another drink?”

“No, I’m ok. I get drunk easily so I think I should stop before it gets worse.” You easily learned that you were an extremely honest drunk and if the words you were saying to Shawn were any indicator, you definitely shouldn’t drink anything more.

“That’s a shame, I have a feeling that you’re fun when you’re absolutely plastered.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re already fun as it is, but it takes a while for you to open up. I think I’d get to see you at your fullest, you know what I mean? But that’s just off of my first couple impressions of you, so what do I know.” He finished off his statement by grabbing a beer from the fridge, returning to a spot much closer to you, so close that your shoulders were right up against one another. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m very comfortable around you,” you whispered, eyes falling down to his smooth, red lips.

He caught the motion of your eyes and let his do the same, his face coming just that extra inch closer to yours, “Do you think it would be ok if…”

“Y/n! We’re going home!” Natalie came barging into the kitchen, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the door.

“What? What’s going on?” you asked her, trying to tug your arm away, but her grip was strong and she was dead set on ordering an uber to get out of here as soon as possible.

“I’ll tell you when we get back.”

Your heart dropped as you looked at Shawn who looked just as confused and saddened as you. “Bye Shawn, thanks for bringing us.”

“Wait,” he muttered to himself, running towards the door before Natalie could get you out of it, “Give me your phone really quick.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.” You unlocked your phone for him and watched as he added his number into your messages, even including a silly picture of him as his contact photo that you knew you’d be laughing at later. “Text me when you’re back at your dorm, eh? Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

Looking into his eyes you saw a completely different man than the one you had yelled at on the first night you met. This one seemed vulnerable as he stared at you, as though he was putting himself bare in front of you and showing you the real him. You nodded your head, taking your phone from his hand before Natalie was pulling you towards the uber. “I promise I’ll text you.”

“Bye Y/n.” __________________________

“What was that for?!” you demanded, staring down your roommate as she fell onto her bed.

“Connor and I got into a fight.”

“I didn’t know the two of you were dating.”

“That’s the thing...we’re not.” She sighed, propping herself up against the wall, “See the thing is...we’re talking I guess, but it’s not exclusive. It’s more like a ‘talking’ so we can hook up if we want to sort of thing.”

“So what does that have to do with you dragging me out of the party.”

“Well I was making out with Tim…”

“Why were you making out with Tim?”

“Because he’s hot and I’m drunk so it was a great idea. That was until Connor saw and got all pissed because apparently I’m not allowed to do that, but he’s all over girls all the time still so I don’t see the big deal! And because I’m so drunk I was over fighting with him for the night and I’m mad so therefore we had to leave.”

“Great,” you muttered, “I was finally having a good time at a party and then you and your hook up had to mess it up.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I truly am. If there was a way to make it up to you I’d do it. But preferably when I’m sober.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal anyways,” you mumbled before you began to change into some more comfortable clothes for the night. You noticed you were still wearing Shawn’s jersey that you would ultimately have to give him back for the game, but you couldn’t help but think that you could worry about getting it to him tomorrow and maybe that would be your chance to make up for the time you lost tonight. __________________________

The light streamed in through the window of your dorm and you groaned, pushing yourself out of bed to turn off your alarm. You sighed to yourself as you got yourself up and moving for the day, even going as far as making sure that Natalie was still alive and breathing after she came home late last night from a bar before grabbing your bag to head to class. You hated your 8am class, but it was the only slot available that worked with your schedule so you simply had to man up and accept your fate. You were about halfway to your class when you heard a distant voice call out to you and you whipped your head around to meet a smiling curly haired boy running your way. “Y/n, hey,” Shawn smiled at you after finally catching up to you, “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Shawn, how have you been?” You hadn’t seen him since you had dropped his practice jersey off at the doorstep of the frat a few weeks back, but you couldn’t lie and say a part of you was hoping that you’d run into him again.

“Good, miss seeing you at the hockey games though.”

His comment made you blush and you brought your gaze to the floor so he couldn’t see your heated cheeks. “I never really went before so I wasn’t exactly planning on going anytime soon again.”

“You didn’t have a good time?” he asked with a feigned offense, big puppy dog eyes on display as he walked next to you.

“I promise I did, I just prefer to stay in my dorm and study if we’re being honest.”

“I understand,” he nodded thoughtfully, “So where are you headed?”

“English Literature, how about you?”

“Calculus, which if we’re being honest here is not my strong suit. If I don’t get at least a B on this next test they could pull me from the game. I swear I’m not dumb, I just don’t get it I guess.”

“Well, I don’t know if it means anything to you, but I had an A in that class last semester. I could help you out if you want.”

“You’d do that for me?” he asked with wide eyes, bringing you both to a halt in front of your lecture hall. “Of course I would, when’s your test?”

“Next Tuesday, could we meet on Thursday after practice?”

“Sounds perfect. Just text me the time and place.”

“I owe you a bunch.” Shawn leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your temple that left your heart fluttering before making his way over to his own class. __________________________

Thursday felt like it would never come, but there you were sitting alone inside the library at eight thirty at night, waiting for Shawn to arrive from his practice. A million thoughts were swirling through your head the longer you waited and you desperately wished he would show up to give you a distraction from your mind. You were constantly worried that he wouldn’t show up, had planned on ditching you from the start as some kind of sick joke, but that fear was diminished when he stumbled through the doors. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he breathed out, “Practice went later than expected.” A series of students shushed him for being too loud, causing a sheepish expression to grace his face, “Sorry.”

He sat his bag down next to you, sliding in close enough that you would be able to see what the other was doing while still maintaining a safe distance. “Sooo,” you broke the silence as he got his books out, “What do you want to start with?”

The rest of the time was spent discussing Shawn’s upcoming test and explaining what each concept was to the best of your ability. You could tell that he was smart, he just needed a little bit of help, so he was very easy to work with. Besides how hard it was for you to concentrate around him that was. Whenever he leaned in to peer over your work a little more, your heart beat increased rapidly and you held your breath until he moved away again. You couldn’t tell if he was aware of your behaviors, but he seemed extremely unfazed, always dazzling you a bright smile after something made sense to him. It was adorable to you when his eyes would furrow a little bit while he was working and the proud glow on his face when he got a problem right.

Time seemed to go by quick with all the little jokes he was making and soon enough it was eleven at night and the library was beginning to close down. “Guess we should be heading out then,” Shawn laughed, “Unless you plan on sleeping in here tonight.”

“No, not exactly. Was kind of looking forward to my bed if I’m being honest.” A chuckle of your own escaped your lips as you packed up your bag alongside him.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, my car isn’t on campus. I just walked.”

“Well I hope you weren’t planning on walking back too.”

“What other choice do I have?”

Shawn raised an eyebrow at you, “Seriously? You’re going to ask that when I’m literally right here.”

“I’m not going to ask you to drive me home, Shawn.”

“Good thing you’re not asking me, I’m telling you. Now come on, my jeep is right out here.” You didn’t protest this time, knowing he wouldn’t back down from his offer, and instead followed him out to that black jeep you vividly remember from your last trip in it.

The ride back to your dorm was significantly quieter than what your previous encounters with Shawn had been besides the quiet music playing in the background. By the time he had pulled in front of your building, there were hardly any cars to be seen around and all of the students were already inside. Shawn turned his body to face you, “Thanks for the help tonight, I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Good luck on your test next week, I know you’ll do great, but you can still text me if you want to meet up again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave you a kind smile when you thanked him for the ride before you opened the door to the brisk night air. “Y/n wait…”

“What?”

“I know you’re not really into parties but…,” his words trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “There’s this movie night thing at the frat Saturday night and all of the guys are expected to bring a date. Do you maybe wanna come with me?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “You want me to be your date?”

“Yeah, if you want to be.” Even in the darkness you could see the way his cheeks reddened and he failed to look you in the eye.

“I’d love to go,” you told him truthfully and you couldn’t help but smile with him when his face lit up at your words.

“Really?! That’s, that’s great! You’re supposed to wear your pajamas by the way so I hope that’s ok with you.”

“Perfectly fine with me. Just text me the time later.”

“I will. Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Shawn.” He watched you walk into your building with a giddy smile on his face before he drove back to his frat for a sleep that he hoped included dreams of you. __________________________

“What are you getting all dolled up for?”

You look over from where you’re doing your hair to see Natalie laying on her bed staring at you with curious eyes. “I’m going to movie night with Shawn.”

“You’re going to movie night with Shawn?!” Natalie exclaimed, her eyes practically bursting out of her head.

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him as his date.” You tried to keep your calm in front of her and not show how excited you truly were, but your smile was fighting to break free on your face.

“Is he picking you up?”

“No, I’m probably just going to walk or maybe get an uber.”

“Walk? Honey, no. Connor is picking me up, I’ll just text him and ask if he can drive you, too.”

“You don’t need to do that…”

“Nonsense, there’s no reason for you to walk when I’m literally driving to the same place.” Natalie quickly grabbed her phone to text something to Connor before getting up out of bed to walk over and fluff your finally curled hair.

“What’s going on with you and Connor anyways?”

“Oh, we’re just friends with benefits for now,” Natalie said dreamly, her hands separating your curls to make them more natural as she spoke, “But we decided that we’re going to be exclusive. No more arguments about that I guess.” You nodded your head thoughtfully, carefully examining your appearance in the mirror. “Why are you getting ready so early? We don’t have to leave for another two hours.”

“I know, but I thought you’d have to use the curler and mirror, too, so I figured I’d get done early so you could have enough room to do everything.”

“You’re the sweetest ever,” she told you, kissing the top of your head making you scrunch your nose. “Do you want me to do your makeup for you?”

“I’m not sure, I just want to do something natural.” You examined your face with much criticism, trying to decide what you wanted to do to hopefully make you look more appealing to Shawn. You didn’t just think that did you? You’re not really trying to impress Shawn tonight, right? The butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise and you cursed yourself for the thoughts that were taking over your head.

“I can do that,” Nat responded quickly, “Easy. Now what I’m concerned about is what you’re wearing tonight.”

“I was planning on wearing some sweatpants and a tank top or maybe one of my patching pajama tops and bottoms. I wasn’t sure yet.”

“See this is where we’re going to have an issue. Don’t you want to wear something a bit more revealing? Want to impress Shawn a little bit? I have a slip you can borrow if you want or…”

“No, I’m all set, I just want to be comfortable. I appreciate the concern, but you know it’s not me to wear something like that out in public. It makes me uneasy.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just focus on getting your makeup looking absolutely perfect just like you.” __________________________

Connor pulled up to the frat house before unlocking the car door for you and slinging an arm around Natalie’s seat to look back at you, “Why don’t you go in and meet up with Shawn, we’ll be in in one second.” You gave him a forced smile and a small thank you as Natalie giggled and you rolled your eyes the second you got out, happy to finally be away from their never ending teasing of one another. You made your way up to the door of the frat and knocked loud enough to be heard, transferring your weight back and forth out of nervousness. The door opened not long after revealing your date for the night looking as cozy as ever in a pair of grey sweatpants and a cotton white t-shirt. His eyes subtly looked you up and down with a smile on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed out, letting yourself admire him the way he was you.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you look extremely comfy and nice as well.”

“Why thank you, I like the plaid.” You looked down at your plaid sleep pants and tighter fitted grey long sleeve you had on top, your cheeks blushing red at his comment.

“I know I probably am not dressed up like a lot of the other girls, but I just wanted to be comfortable…”

“Stop it, I think you look amazing. Now come inside, I already have a spot for us.” You followed him through the frat house until you came into the kitchen that looked a little different now that it wasn’t filled to the brim with alcohol. “Do you want any hot chocolate? Or tea?”

“I’ll have hot chocolate please.”

“Good choice, good choice,” he chuckled, pouring some of the boiling water into two mugs. “You know, I’m kinda surprised Natalie didn’t force you to wear some form of lingerie like a lot of the girls are.”

“She tried to convince me to, but I didn’t want to. I’m just as surprised as you are though that she let me get away with this.”

“Well, I think it’s better that you came here comfortable rather than wearing any of that.” He handed you your cup, warning you of how hot it was. “Speaking of Natalie, where are her and Connor?”

“Still in the car, they kicked me out right when we got here.”

“Typical,” Shawn snorted before making his way into the living room with you trailing behind him. The room was already about half the way full with couples, if you could even call them that, and the room had a much cozier vibe than what you had previously seen it as. There were blankets everywhere and snacks piled up onto all of the tables. There were a few guys and girls that were obviously not too interested in their date and were mingling with other people instead and some that were extremely interested in their date to the point where it was almost obnoxious. “I got us the seat in the corner by the table. You can put your mug there if you want and those blankets that are there are ours, too. I’m just going to run to the bathroom quickly so you can wait there until I come back or you can go somewhere else.” He kissed your cheek lightly, leaving you with a heated face before he left you alone in the room. You swore you could feel the hard stares of the breathtaking girls around you and you sank yourself down into the couch, desperately wishing Shawn hadn’t left you here by yourself.

You sat there for almost ten minutes before you had decided that you were finished being the target for the judgemental looks and whispers from those around you, peeling yourself out of your spot before heading towards what you were praying was the bathrooms in hopes of running into Shawn on the way. Just as you rounded the corner you could faintly make out a female voice and you snuck your head around only to be met with a sight that made your heart drop. There she was, the drop dead gorgeous head cheerleader you knew had been in Shawn’s sheets multiple times before, with her hand on your date’s chest, that mischievous glint in her eyes that was laced with lust. Shawn’s hands were wrapped around her wrists and although you couldn’t hear their words, you couldn’t help but feel betrayed at the whole situation. Here you are, being made a fool of in front of all of these people who have always seemed to despise you from the start. You finally started letting your guard down for Shawn and what do you get in return? A stabbing pain in your heart. Tears began prickling in your eyes before you turned straight on your heels to head out of the frat without a second thought in your mind.

Just as you were about to reach the door, it opened for you, Natalie and Connor entering with giddy smiles on their faces. But at the sight of you, Natalie’s smile dropped, “Hun, what happened?”

“Nothing, I think I might head out.”

“What?” She made a signal to Connor so that he’d leave the two of you alone and he agreed, whispering something in her ear before moving past you. “Ok, now tell me what happened. You were so happy about coming tonight!” With tears threatening to fall down your face, you told her exactly what you saw from the moment you stepped into the house and before you knew it, you were encased in her arms, her hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m so sorry, baby. He doesn’t deserve you if he’s going to let her get away with that.”

“Am I stupid to be so affected by this?”

“No, that was a dick move on his part and you are allowed to feel upset about it. What we’re not going to do though is leave, you hear me? Two can play at this game.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meannn, let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. Come on, follow me.” She wiped underneath your eyes before leading you back into the living room towards the couch on the opposite side. Two guys you recognized from the frat were sitting there alone and when you noticed Natalie walking over to them confidently, your heart stopped.

“Nat, what are we doing?”

“Just trust me on this...Hey guys!” The two guys looked up at the sound of her voice, a heavy smirk on both of their lips. “You got any extra room for a little bit?”

“Be my guest,” the blonde one responded and Natalie wasted no time in pushing you to sit next to them.

You stumbled slightly onto the couch, but recovered quickly, sending a light wave to the guys, “Hi.”

They both greeted you back with a smile, leaving Natalie to be quite satisfied as she whispered in your ear, “Be back soon,” and then she was gone.

You weren’t close enough to the guys that it would be considered dangerous to you, but you were definitely closer than you would usually be with some strangers that you had literally just met. The conversation flowed easily between the three of you, not as easily as it did between you and Shawn though, and you found yourself constantly glancing towards the entryway in case he decided to make an appearance. Just as one of the frat members announced that the movie was starting in five minutes Shawn made his way into the living room, his eyes spotting you immediately. You could see his jaw clench from the corner of your eye and the way his eyes hardened was not easy to miss. This only made you up the antics a little more, with a hand moving to the shoulder of the guy closest to you before the sound of your name being called from across the room caught your attention, as well as everyone else’s in the room. You looked over to see Shawn staring at you coldly, his head nodding at the seat he had for you as a signal for you to come back. “Thanks for the seat boys, but I better be heading back,” you told them with a cheeky smile that they returned to you before heading over towards Shawn. You could feel the strong gaze of the other couples and you desperately wished that you could curl in on yourself and disappear. Once you were close enough to him he pulled you down harshly into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and whispering in your ear, “What the hell were you doing over there?”

You wriggled out of his arms, but still laid next to him, allowing him to bring the blanket up and over you with his arm around you. “I was making some new friends to keep me company since you were so busy with Vanessa when you were supposed to be just using the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, “Listen, I don’t know what you saw, but…”

“I don’t want to hear it Shawn, I just want to watch the movie and leave.”

“No, I want you to listen to me because I can see how you might have taken this the wrong way.”

“Was there a right way to take it?” you whispered back angrily, feeling his arm tighten around you so that he could bring his mouth closer to your ear.

“Not from your point of view, but I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. I haven’t been answering her texts for the last two months and threatened to block her last week and she was all butthurt about it, saying that she wanted things to go back to when she could call me for a booty call whenever she felt like it. And I don’t want that anymore. I’ve got my eye on someone right now and I wouldn’t mess up my chance with her like that.”

“If you have your eye on someone then why didn’t you bring her tonight?”

“I did.” You looked up at him as the lights were turned off and you caught a glimpse of his eyes before he was facing the screen and pulling you closer to his chest. You snuggled into him and wrapped your arm around his body too, leaving the both of you with graceful smiles on your faces. __________________________

Of course the guys had picked a scary movie for the night, causing you to squeeze Shawn a little tighter at every jump scare. He didn’t mind though, it only gave him an excuse to pull you closer to him and press light, comforting kisses into your hair. Somewhere between the halfway point of the movie when you tucked your head into Shawn’s chest at a particularly frightening scene and the end of the movie, you found yourself dozing off, eventually falling into a light slumber cuddled up against him. The even beating of his heart lulled you to sleep until you felt him shaking you softly, whispering your name into your ear. “Hey, the movie’s over.”

“Oh,” you sat up and tried to comb back your slightly messed up hair, seeing the other couples retreat to their respective rooms, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be, you look cute when you’re comfy.” His words caused your cheeks to heat up and you situated yourself to try and hide your face from him. “Are you ready to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, I should probably head out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m ready to fall back asleep...which means that I need to go home so I can go to sleep in my bed.” You looked back at him with furrowed brows that matched his.

“Y/n, it’s two in the morning, why don’t you just stay here. No one else is leaving.”

“You don’t have a spare room though…”

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll sleep on the floor if you feel too uncomfortable.”

“No Shawn, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. If you’re so adamant about me staying then we might as well share it.”

“Are you sure you’re ok with that?”

“I’m a big girl, Shawn, I think I can handle sleeping in a bed with you for one night.”

Shawn let out a laugh that was music to your ears before extending a hand to you that you gladly accepted. His hand engulfed yours perfectly and you stumbled as he pulled you up off the couch because you were too busy trying to memorize the feeling of his hand in yours. “Careful there, honey,” his sweet voice drawed out, “You’re even more tired than I thought. Can hardly stand on two feet.” He escorted you hand in hand to his bedroom, which was much cleaner than you would have imagined. There were a couple guitars on stands, a piano in the corner, some hockey gear half stuffed into a bag on the floor, all things that perfectly described Shawn to you. He slid into his bed, adjusting himself under the covers before looking at you with a boyish grin and beckoning you towards him. You sat down next to him, playing with your hands awkwardly. “You ok?” You nodded your head. “I can put up a pillow barrier if you want, I have to admit I tend to be a cuddler.”

You giggled, imagining you waking up to find him snuggled up against a pillow between the two of you. “It’s ok, I don’t think we need a pillow barrier.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned off the light, getting even more comfortable in his bed and turning towards the wall. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Shawn.” __________________________

The deep scent of oak and cinnamon should have woken you up. The heavy weight slung across your stomach should have woken you up. The unusual heat that was spreading across your back should have woken you up. But instead, they all just kept you in a peaceful slumber as the morning light streamed in through the window.

Shawn was the first to awake. Breathing in your comforting scent, he squeezed you a little tighter, not quite realizing what he was doing. The moment you pushed back into him in an effort to get impossibly closer to him his senses became wide awake, suddenly making him on high alert to how close you were to him. He couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if you woke up to find the two of you like this, but when he tried to untangle himself from you and you subconsciously gripped his arm tighter, pulling him back to you, he gave up the fight and let himself get lost in the moment. Against his better judgment he placed his lips to your hair, leaving feathery kisses in their wake. Your body began to move slowly as you came to a consciousness, but Shawn continued to kiss down your neck until he finished with a soft one on your shoulder. “Good morning,” he rasped, looking at you through his lashes.

“Good morning.” The second you came to a full realization of what was happening your body froze, not quite able to process the exact situation. The immense heat that was radiating off of him was too soothing for you to resist though and soon your body fell slack against his just as it was while you were asleep.

“How’d you sleep?” Shawn asked, tracing his finger across your cheek bone.

“Like a baby.”

“Good to hear.” His stomach rumbled, making a laugh escape out of him, “And that is good to hear too, I guess. You want to go get some breakfast.”

Deep inside you wanted to say no and selfishly keep him close to you all morning long, “That sounds perfect.”

Your body became cold the second he left your side and you shivered slightly from the temperature change. “You ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” you lied, grabbing his hand to help you out of bed. He pulled your body close to his, looking at you deeply with those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“Were you uncomfortable this morning?”

“No,” you stuttered, feeling small as he towered over you even if you didn’t find him intimidating, if anything the words coming out of his mouth were more intimidating than him.

“Why not?”

His body came closer to you with each word until you were backed up against the wall, his chest pressing against yours. “What?”

“I asked you why you weren’t uncomfortable.” His face was so close to you that you could see every last detail of his skin, including a scar on his cheek that you didn’t happen to notice before, but made him look all the more endearing to you.

“Because I trust you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

You could tell by the way that his eyebrow quirked up that he didn’t believe your wavering voice, “Are you telling me the truth? Because I want to know if you feel the same way about me that I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I made it quite obvious,” he chuckled, “I really, really like you, Y/n. I was hoping maybe this morning was a sign that you felt the same way…”

“It was,” you breathed out quickly, not wanting this moment to fade away. “I like you too, Shawn.”

His lips fanned over yours and your breath hitched in your throat, desperately waiting for him to move the final inch. “I’m not going to kiss you,” he told you, watching the light in your eyes dim and cast down to the ground, “Hey, look at me.” Shawn grabbed your chin gently, pulling your eyes back up to his, “It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because it feels wrong to do it without going on a date first. You understand?” You nodded your head sadly, making him let out a quiet laugh, “But I would like to take you out on a date if you’d let me.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Perfect,” he leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose, “Now let’s go down and eat breakfast. I’m absolutely starving.” __________________________

Are you free Tuesday night? Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to ask you

The message came through the second you stepped through the door to your dorm room. Natalie and Connor had woken up later than you and Shawn, so Shawn had offered to drive you home instead. You looked out your small window that happened to be facing the street and were met with his jeep still parked next to the curb. His eyes met yours causing the two of you to smile and you could practically hear his laugh from three floors up.

I’m free all night

Perfect, see you then I’ll pick you up x

Can’t wait x __________________________

The rest of the weekend seemed to drag on until your classes came again on Monday to distract your mind from the next day. It didn’t help that you and Shawn were texting almost every second of the day since you two had parted, only adding to your anticipation.

After seeming as though it would never arrive, Tuesday night came upon you, bringing you back to the same chair this all started with. Natalie was over the moon when you told her about your date, immediately wanting to know everything about it and what outfit you were planning on wearing. She had you propped up in what she called her “makeup chair” making sure your makeup and hair were the best they had ever looked. You had chosen a simple sweater and leggings, hoping that you looked nice enough while still managing to stay warm and comfortable. Shawn hadn’t told you where you were going yet, stating that it had to be kept a surprise, so you worked with what you had in order to have an appropriate outfit.

At six o’clock sharp Shawn was waiting outside, leaning against his jeep on his phone was a bouquet of flowers in one hand. His eyes flickered to the door anytime he heard a noise, but at the sight of you he stood up straight, hands pocketing his phone before he was headed straight towards you. “Hey, you look beautiful.”

“And you look as handsome as always.”

A blush formed on his cheeks at your words and he handed you the flowers bashfully, ducking his head down to avoid your gaze. “These are for you.”

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.” He sent you a bright smile as he took your hand to lead you around the car, opening the door for you to slide inside.

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” you asked as soon as he slid into the driver's seat.

“Not yet, gotta keep the suspense up,” he teased, his hand coming up to lace his fingers with yours on the center console. “I hope you’re hungry though.”

“If we’re being honest I’m always hungry.”

“Then this is going to work out great.” The ride was short and before you knew it you were turning into a parking lot of a small old-fashioned diner a few minutes off of campus. Shawn parked the car, running around the jeep quickly to open the door for you. You smiled at his kind gesture and took his outstretched hand for you to walk inside together.

The two of you were sat inside of a booth across from each other as you scanned the menus. Shawn hardly looked at his before he was nodding his head and leaning back in his seat to look at you, “Got any idea of what you’re getting?”

“Um, not really. Have you been here before?”

“More times than I can remember. I usually go here after practice late at night because it’s open until like three in the morning.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Well I always get the cheeseburger with no tomato, a chocolate milkshake, and extra fries…”

“Extra fries? You eat that many fries?”

Shawn laughed, a wide smile forming on his face, “Most of the time yes, but if I don’t I just bring them back to the frat house. They’re always gone a couple seconds after I set them down.”

“Hmm, I can't decide if I want a chocolate shake like you or an oreo one. What do you think?”

“I think you should get an oreo one and then we can share them both.” You looked over your menu at him with a small smile, watching his eyes light up as he returned your expression.

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” The waitress came over and you ordered the same thing as Shawn, except with tomatoes, different shake, and of course, no extra fries. Once your milkshakes came out, he requested two extra straws, winking at you as he slid them in.

“So,” he began, sipping on his chocolate milkshake, “Do you think you’re going to come to more hockey games this season?”

“I’m not sure, I guess I’d need a good reason to go,” you smirked at him, taking a sip of yours as well.

“I’m pretty sure I could give you a good reason.” He looked around to make sure no one was looking, but fortunately you two were the only ones in there besides another couple on the other side. Shawn grabbed your hand and leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. Your heart started beating faster until his lips were right against yours, but you faltered when he froze. The look in his eyes was pleading with you to let him continue so you took control instead, closing the small gap between the two of you. His free hand cradled your cheek as his lips moved with yours, keeping you close to him. It was short and innocent, but it was enough to leave your head spinning and heart pounding. Your lips chased his once he moved back, desperately wanting to feel the softness of them on yours once again, causing him to laugh with a smile before giving you a peck to satisfy you. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I doubt it was that long,” you mumbled, eyes focusing on where his thumb was rubbing the top of your hand.

“What makes you say that?”

“No guy has ever really been into me before.”

“I think that’s a lie. Besides, I’ve wanted that since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He brought your hand to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on it, “You would’ve noticed if your head wasn’t stuck in a book.”

“Didn’t know it was bad to try to be at the top of my class.”

“It isn’t. I think it’s great that you’re at the top of the class list. Now you’re on the top of two lists.”

“Two lists?” you asked, watching as he smiled and leaned forward to try to steal another kiss.

“Yeah, the school’s and mine.”

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charincharge · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Want To Wait, twenty-one

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Funny thing about that is I don’t know when the fuck I asked you.”

“Please don’t do this.”

Aelin stood on practically numb legs as the car pulled up to the frat house. The cold Terrasen winds had started up, and she was practically a block of ice when she opened the car door.

Thank gods her dad had already turned up the heat.

“Hey…” she said slowly, and Rhoe breathed out a long, steady breath before turning to his daughter.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Where’s Aedion?” he asked, looking around, and Aelin shrugged.

“With his boyfriend. I lost track of him.”

Rhoe frowned. “That boy is going to get a piece of my mind…” He sighed. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea, to let you go off to college. And if that irresponsible boy let anything happen to you, I’ll murder him myself.”

“Dad?” she asked nervously. “I’m okay. Can you just take me to my spot?”

“Aelin, it’s after midnight,” he sighed.

“Please?” she begged, “I just… please?”

She could tell her wanted to ask more, but he nodded tersely and put the car into gear. She was grateful that he let them slip into silence, but she could feel the tension with every second she remained closed-lipped.

As the car creaked to a half in front of Maeve’s, Rhoe finally broke.

“Aelin,” he said seriously. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Aelin nodded, biting her lip and looking up toward the sky out the window.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

Rhoe cleared his throat and tugged at his hair, clearly uncomfortable in the small car so wrought with tension. He’d been silent the entire ride back to town, and Aelin was grateful for it. Her heart was heavy and any alcohol that had been muddling her brain had been replaced with a low aching throb. She really just wanted to burrito herself in her thick blankets under the stars and have a good cry where no one could hear her.

She bit her lip and a tear welled at the corner of her eye, rolling onto her cheek with a thick plop.

“Aelin,” her dad repeated calmly. “Did someone… make you do something you didn’t want to?” he asked nervously, and Aelin whipped her head toward her concerned father. His eyes were narrowed carefully, devoid of any judgment, and his breath was steady, but she could see the tension roiling beneath his large firefighters’ muscles.

“No!” she assured him. “No.” She watched as he exhaled, the anger slipping from his shoulders as she continued. “The only person who tried to make me doing something I didn’t want to was me,” she admitted. “But I managed to stop her before she did something she really regretted.”

Rhoe nodded, almost imperceptibly, his chin lowering and raising back up as the usual glimmer reappeared in his bright eyes. “Impressive you shut her up,” he said with a laugh. “She’s kind of pushy,” he whispered conspiratorially.

“Dad…” At that, Aelin finally laughed herself. And it unleashed the next round of tears, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto Aedion’s sweatshirt.

Rhoe sighed as he brought his hand up to his face, trying to wipe the distress away from his eyes. She knew crying girls made him uncomfortable. “Please let’s go back home.” He stared at her. “It’s freezing cold.”

But Aelin waved him off. “There are heaters up there,” she reassured him. “I’ll be fine.” He looked at her dubiously, which, considering the neverending stream of tears running down her cheeks, he had every right to. “I’ll be fine!” she laughed thickly through her tears. “I just need a good, long cry where no one can hear me.” She paused and crinkled her nose. “And to text Rowan to delete his voicemail.”

Rhoe cringed. “That kind of night, huh?”

Aelin shook her head, laughing harder through her tears. “Oh my god. I should do that immediately…”

She pulled out her phone, which had remained in the hoodie pocket since she called her dad two hours ago. It beeped in her hand and faded to black. She shook it, as if that would somehow bring it back to life. But it was no use. The phone was dead.

“Motherfucker!” she shouted, earning a glare from Rhoe. “Sorry,” she sighed. “It died.”

“I’m sure Rowan’s asleep anyway,” her dad suggested. “You can text him in the morning and smooth everything over.”

Aelin looked conflicted. She was sure Rowan was asleep. It was after 2am. She’d just have to be sure to wake up extra early and make sure he knew that nothing had happened.

Rhoe raised a dark brow. “Or I could break into his house and steal his phone while he’s sleeping?”

Aelin’s heart warmed for her dad, the person she could count on for anything, as she shook her head.

“Thank you,” she said, tears starting to form again. “For everything.”

“I told you,” he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Any time. Anywhere. No matter what. If you need me, I’ll come.”

Aelin leaned over the console and gave her dad a quick squeeze before assuring him that she would be home first thing in the morning.

She opened the car door and waved him goodbye, shivering as the winter winds whipped through her thin sweatshirt and chilled her to the core. She rushed to the keypad and entered the code, relishing in the stale heat that hit her as the door clicked open.

She rummaged through the dark to make her way behind the counter, wondering if there was anything leftover to fill her grumbling stomach. No wonder she’d gotten so drunk so fast, Aelin thought. She couldn’t even remember the last time she ate. Luckily, there was a piece of apple pie with her name literally on it. She knew it would have been drastically improved by heating it up, but she was too hungry to wait the extra minute. She shoved the applely goodness into her mouth quickly, finishing the whole piece in four large bites.

She hummed happily and made her way to the back staircase, climbing slowly and letting the food settle as she made her way to the roof, feeling remarkably better already. Maybe she wouldn’t need that cry after all. Maybe she’d fall right to sleep under the stars, comforted by her favorite place in the world.

But as she pushed the roof door open, she froze like a block of ice. She held her breath as two silhouettes came into focus, just barely lit by the strand of twinkle lights and reddish orange heaters on the ground.

She blinked as their voices wafted across the roof, her heart pounding with each word as she struggled to figure out what was happening.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, shaking his head. He sighed, taking a step towards someone else, their silhouettes merging into one giant shadow as Rowan wrapped his arms around them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lyria’s too-sweet voice replied, cutting into Aelin like a dagger. What the hell was she doing up here?

“We’ll be fine,” Lyria replied, lifting herself onto her toes and pressing a soft kiss against Rowan’s lips, and Aelin shook her head again. Still not processing, until Rowan leaned down and struggled to straighten the blankets which were a mess on the floor. Aelin’s eyes flashed between the mess of blankets, and Rowan and Lyria, who watched him with her arms crossed, and suddenly Aelin thought she was going to be sick.

Because it seemed that her fears weren’t unfounded. That Rowan had lied to her. Had been lying to her. All in her sacred spot. The one spot he knew she wouldn’t be at tonight.

It was bad enough that he had lied to her, but to bring Lyria here…

She bit her lip so hard her tooth pierced through the skin, a small dribble of blood running into her mouth, making her nauseous.

“Let me drive you home, at least?” Rowan asked from his crouched spot, arranging the blankets how they’d been before he’d moved them. Lyria must have nodded, because he stood suddenly and smiled guiltily. “And let’s go quickly because if Aelin knew you were up here, she’d…”

“Freak the fuck out?” Lyria teased.

“Understatement, definitely,” Rowan said, ushering Lyria toward the door.

“So, what’s the deal with her ‘special spot’?” Lyria asked, and Aelin watched the exact second Rowan spotted her, because his face paled in the moonlight, and he rushed toward her.

“Aelin?” he said her name, confused and urgent, but Aelin couldn’t hear him. All she could hear was her own stupidity mocking her over and over again. Her inner-self saying, “I TOLD YOU SO.” Screaming it at the top of her lungs. Calling her names for being too much of a coward to go through with having sex with Sam. Because Rowan wasn’t a coward. He was just an asshole. “What are you…?”

“No,” Aelin interrupted with a too steady voice. “I want to hear what you have to say. What is the deal with my special spot? My special spot where you bring your girlfriend to have sex?!” Her voice rose in pitch as she shouted at him. “Please, I want to hear you tell your girlfriend what a loser I am,” she sniffled. “I guess you didn’t have time to her that I’m just an immature child who needs a special place to go because her mommy left her while you were fucking her.”

“Aelin, Gods no,” he shook his head. “You have the wrong idea, that’s not what—"

“How could you?” She took a step toward him. She expected him to move back, but he didn’t. He stood there, looking pained, his brow crinkled as he tried to come up with the words. She took another step forward and shoved his chest. He stumbled backwards at the force, but she didn’t stop. She shoved him again and again, repeating the words, “How could you?!” until her voice was hoarse. “I trusted you,” she said, her voice cracking over the last word, causing Rowan to snap as he stumbled over the pile of blankets.

“That’s not what happened!” Rowan finally shouted back, his green eyes swirling with upset. “If you would just listen to me,” he pleaded, before steadying himself. “I got your voicemail, and I freaked out, so I came up here—”

“To get revenge?” Aelin cried in earnest now, the tears that had been on the verge of pouring out of her before making a full appearance. “Well, congrats.” She threw her arms up. “I feel betrayed.”

“No!” Rowan yelled. “I wouldn’t do that,” he frowned. “Come on. You know me.”

Aelin leaned down and grabbed the closest thing to her, a book she’d discarded haphazardly the other night after work. She chucked at Rowan, and the pages hit him square in the chest.

“No, I don’t!” she screeched as she reached for another book to throw at him, anything to throw at him, hit him and hurt him like he’d hurt her. “I clearly don’t know you at all.”

“Ace…” he said, dejected, and his tone was enough to cut her straight to the bone.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, and Rowan recoiled, looking like he’d been shot. “You lost that right to call me that the second you brought someone up here.” He glanced at Lyria, who was still waiting by the door, and Aelin felt her anger explode.

“Don’t look at her!” Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it might explode. She was going to be sick. She was sure of it. “You should hear the names they’ve called me,” she shook her head, tears coming in earnest. “Talking about me behind my back.” She shuddered. “I knew they were assholes, but I didn’t think you’d be one, too.”

Rowan struggled not to look over Aelin’s shoulder as Lyria stepped closer. “Aelin,” she drawled in that sickly sweet voice that Aelin hated so much. “I would never talk badly about you. I know how much you mean to Rowan.”

Aelin glared, her temper rising faster than she knew what to do with. “The funny thing about that is I can’t remember when the fuck I asked you?” she snapped.

“At least let her defend herself!” Rowan shouted, and Aelin lost any semblance of balance, her temper swirling out of control as she screamed.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” she threw whatever she could at the couple, a blanket, a pillow, another book. Tearing apart her special spot until it looked as if a hurricane had gone through it.

Lyria had the decency to flinch and retreat. “I’m gonna…” she pointed toward the door, and Rowan nodded. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The door creaked shut as Lyria clambered down the stairs, the soft pitter patter of her steps the only sound other than Aelin’s sniffling.

“Aren’t you going to chase after her?” Aelin asked coldly, and Rowan shook his head again.

“No, I’m not leaving until you hear me out,” he began. “I need to explain to you that this wasn’t what it looked like. Nothing happened, and—”

But Aelin was finished. She looked at the boy in front of her, the boy who she had once known what every crooked smile, every blink of his blonde lashes, every soft gesture and different laugh had meant, now a complete stranger. A stranger who would willingly lie to her face and hurt her like this.

She took in a shaky breath and let out a choked sob.

“Something did happen, Ro,” she said softly. “Somewhere along the way, we just… fell apart.” She wiped at the hot silent tears that caked her cheeks. “Because the Rowan I know would never have brought anyone up here. Ever. Period. No matter what.”

“It was an accident!”

Aelin laughed sadly. “An accident? Do you think I’m stupid, Rowan?!” she sighed. “Lyria accidentally figured out Maeve’s security code and accidentally climbed up here all by herself?”

“Well, not exactly, but—”

Aelin sniffed loudly, “Or was it just an accident that I found you?” She shook her head at Rowan’s pained expression. Something inside of her broke. “And you can stand there and lie to my face, but I don’t have to listen.” She breathed in a shaky breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Rowan. I’m so tired.”

Rowan took a step forward, but Aelin stepped back, keeping the same distance between them, holding her hand up, and she watched as Rowan’s face crinkled, his frown prominent as he furrowed his brow.

“Please don’t do this,” he begged, but Aelin could only shake her head and cry more silent tears. Her anger had dissipated as quickly as it’d come on, and now all she was left with was a sinking hole of dejection. “I just broke up with Lyria.”

“You called her up here to break up with her?” Aelin laughed sadly. “Please, Rowan. You can come up with a better lie than that.”

He took another step forward, and Aelin’s shoulders slumped under the weight of her sadness. He took the opportunity to close the gap between them, his arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to shiver.

“I’m not lying to you, damnit, Aelin.”

“Let me go,” she mumbled, though internally she relished the feeling of his palms on her back. She let the heat seep through the fabric of Aedion’s sweatshirt, leaning back slightly into his touch as she lifted her chin.

“I can’t,” he said softly. “You’re my best friend,” he whispered resolutely. And it broke her all over again. All the times he’d said those words she’d heard the underlying ‘I love you.’ But it had disappeared as soon as she’d heard Lyria’s voice on her roof.

“I hate you,” she breathed, stepping out of his stunned arms. They dropped to his sides as she turned on her heel, her vision blurred by her tears as she ran back down the stairs, tearing out of Maeve’s as quickly as she could. She could never go up there again. Her safe place was ruined. Her friendship with Rowan was ruined. Everything was ruined.

It only took Aelin until the end of the block to hunch over and vomit. She braced herself against a telephone pole, as she heaved up the barely digested bites of apple pie, cloyingly sweet and disgusting in her mouth. She leaned over again, expelling the contents of her stomach, until there was nothing left. She spat and wiped at her mouth, disgusted with herself for becoming this pathetic mess of a person.

“Aelin,” Rowan called out his car window, pulling up beside her. “Please, just get in the car.”

But she shook her head and marched forward, despite the small glittering snowflakes which started to fall from the dark October sky and brush against her bare legs.

“You’re going to get sick in that outfit,” Rowan chastised. “Whoever’s sweatshirt that is isn’t warm enough,” he warned, and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“Calling me a whore now, too, are we?” she asked as she ploughed forward, ignoring the slow roll of jeep tires beside her. “I knew it was only a matter of time…”

“What? Aelin, no, I would never call you a whore.”

“Why not?” she spat. “You’ve called me a bitch.” She chuckled with absolutely no humor. “I let that one slide, you know. Because the whole Lyria thing was so new, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

She felt her hot tears start up against the cold wind of the night and shuddered.

“I let so much slide for you, and you’ve made me feel like shit, Ro.” She breathed, angry again. “Like shit. I let your girlfriend and her friends call me a dyke and a slut, but I never breathed a word. I just took it. Like some idiot.”

She wiped at her tears, trudging forward on numbing legs as she continued forward, turning onto her street.

“But I’m not going to be an idiot anymore.” She laughed to herself. “I could have slept with someone tonight. But I didn’t. Because I convinced myself…” She shook her head, sniffling loudly, her tears turning to icicles on her wind-chapped skin. “And now it doesn’t even matter,” she said, resolute. “Because I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

She ignored his protests as she fumbled with the flowerpot next to the door, her frozen fingers struggling to get the spare key into the door.

She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting the tears pour down her cheeks again, now that she was in the safety of her home. But a knock at the door against her back came too quickly.

The noise started the sleeping man on the couch – he clearly hadn’t made it very far after picking her up – and she watched as Rhoe blinked against the light, taking in his shivering, sobbing daughter.

“Aelin?” he rushed to her, rubbing his arms up and down her sleeves as she leaned into his warm, sleep-laden chest.

“Daddy,” she cried softly. His arms tightened around her shoulders as Rowan’s voice filtered through the door.

“AELIN!” he cried, and she was relieved when her dad shoved her behind him and swung open the door. Rowan’s hand was raised mid-knock, and in the light of their front hall she could see that Rowan’s cheeks were wet and splotchy with tears too. “Rhoe,” he said, quieting his voice immediately. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to talk to Aelin.”

“No you don’t,” Rhoe’s voice said in a tone that Aelin hadn’t heard him use with Rowan, maybe ever.

“Rhoe, I…” He tried to peer around Rhoe’s shoulders, but Aelin cringed. “Please, I just…”

“Go home, Rowan,” Rhoe’s deep voice echoed into the night. Rowan opened his mouth to protest, and Aelin felt her dad lean forward, challenging the boy in front of him to say something. “It’s the middle of the night, son. I don’t want to wake up your Aunt, but I will.”

Rowan opened his mouth again, but he had the good sense to shut it and nod. Rhoe could be extremely terrifying if he wanted to be.

“Apologies, sir,” Rowan said with a formality that shocked Aelin. “I’ll go home now.”

“Thank you,” Rhoe replied. Aelin wished she could see if he were smiling or not.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Rowan said, she was sure for her benefit as well as her father’s, and it made her want to scream in retaliation, but she was far too cold and exhausted to begin again.

“I’m sure you will,” Rhoe said, starting to close the door. “But Rowan?” he added. “Not too early.”

“Yes, sir,” Rowan said with that same too-formal tone.

And Aelin finally released a breath when her dad shut the door behind him. They both listened to Rowan’s car door close and the jeep take off before Aelin took a step out of her dad’s grasp. She wiped at her cheeks again.

Rhoe cleared his throat as he took in her reddened face and pink legs. “I thought you were safe until morning.”

“So did I,” Aelin said sadly. Rhoe’s brow raised in question, and Aelin shook her head in return. She was hoping her dad wouldn’t press further, but the man wasa clearing awaiting some kind of explanation for the insanity of his evening. There was only so much he could take.

“Rowan and Lyria were… together. In my spot. And we got into a big, overdue fight. And then I walked home.” She paused. “Rowan followed me, obviously.”

“Okay,” Rhoe said slowly, processing the state of his daughter. But he didn’t ask any follow ups, seemingly satisfied, for now, at least.

“Dad?” He raised an eyebrow at her soft tone. “When Rowan comes back, I don’t want to talk to him. Not tomorrow, not the next day, not the next week, not the next year. We’re not friends anymore. Is that okay?” she asked, knowing that the boy Rhoe turned away was practically his son.

“Whatever you want, Fireheart,” he said, and Aelin exhaled, relieved.

“I kind of just want to take a hot shower,” Aelin said, and Rhoe’s face melted as he wrapped her in a giant hug again, his arms running up and down her back, trying to soak some warmth into her skin.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he sighed. “You’re practically an ice cube. Walking home during the first snow of the season…”

He shook his head as a flurry of flakes swirled past their window.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, but her dad shook his head as he led her upstairs and cracked open her bedroom door. He led her across her darkened room and flipped on the light to her bathroom, turning up the shower to the hottest setting.

He turned back to Aelin and frowned.

“You know I’ve always had a soft spot for Rowan,” Rhoe said, and Aelin felt her stomach clench nervously. “But, if you’re not friends with him anymore, then neither am I. Team Aelin, one hundred percent.”

Tears welled in her eyes again at her dad’s words. She didn’t know how much she needed to hear them.

“I love you,” he said as he left her to her shower. “Get some sleep, Fireheart.” He paused. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Aelin stripped quickly and made her way into the steaming shower, blinking away the rivulets of glitter and makeup that still caked her skin from a party that felt like a lifetime ago. The scalding water prickled her icy skin, thawing her quickly, and Aelin let her shaky legs collapse, unable to stand anymore. Sitting on the wet porcelain of her tub floor, she brought her knees into her chest and let her head hang. But no matter how hot the water ran or how long she sat there, she couldn’t scrub the night off her. She’d been hurt more than she could bear in a single evening. She’d thought that Sam would be the worst of it, but that was nothing compared to the pain Rowan had caused her tonight. She’d lost her best friend. Forever.

~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

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jeonsjiddies · 3 years

Text

Say You Want Me | ksj (m)

Summary - Reluctantly joining your friend at a party pays off when you end up alone with Seokjin in his apartment and he shows you what you’ve been missing out on.

Word Count - 2953

Pairing - Seokjin x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings - praise kink?, short lived sexual harassment, penetrative sex, oral (f recieving), big dick Jin, soft sex

a/n: another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

“No,” you glared at your friend, crossing your arms.

“But Y/N! I can’t go without you,” MacKenzie whined.

“I won’t tell.”

“It’s not that, Y/N. I need you there.” she pouted. “You’re my moral support.”

“I support you morally… from here,” you sighed, resolve already breaking.

“Please?” she begged, gripping your arm dramatically.

“I hate you,” you hissed and she jumped up and down, squealing.

You only sighed in response, but that didn’t deter MacKenzie. She jumped into action, pulling out clothes for you to review. Most of her clothes left little to the imagination and you felt naked just looking at them.

“This would look amazing on you.”

She held up a black dress with a belt that was shaped like a bow with diamonds on it. The hem was high and the neckline low.

“There’s no way I’m wearing that.”

“Come on, Y/N. Live a little. Maybe a certain Mr. Kim will be there,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Your friend was well aware of your weakness for Seokjin. You had several classes with the tall boy, and you guys talked often, but weren’t exactly friends. You had a huge crush on him though. Low blow to use them as bait. You grabbed the dress and put it on in the bathroom. You looked in the mirror, looking like a different person entirely. You threw on a light jacket so the outfit wasn’t quite as revealing.

“You look hot,” MacKenzie sing-songed.

“So do you, babe.”

You both split an uber to take you to the party, not wanting to mess with driving in the event that you did end up drinking and she no longer had a designated driver. The closer you got to the party, the more you shook with nerves.

“This is going to be so much fun!” MacKenzie giggled.

You nodded, already wishing you’d stayed home. The uber dropped you off and you could hear the music thumping already. You gulped, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

“MacKenzie and her little wallflower. You made it,” Wonho, who was throwing the party, greeted with a grin.

You waved shyly, surveying your surroundings, where people seemed to have grouped off in cliques. Athletic people were in the kitchen drinking. The artsy crowd were over by the couch, giggling amongst themselves. The “bad” boys were by the TV chatting. Some stragglers danced. You saw Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Hoseok off on their own, and you went to talk to them, following MacKenzie.

“Hey Kenzie, hey Y/N,” they greeted.

You smiled and waved, “hi guys.”

You guys talked for a while (you mostly listened) before you wandered off to get some water. You left your jacket on the chair because the house was getting pretty hot, and you figured no one would pay attention to you without MacKenzie.

“Wow, y/n/ Looking good.” Gi-oh, the local campus fuckboy, slurred as he leaned on you with one arm.

“Thanks…” you said quietly, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“Where have you been hiding that banging body baby?” he drawled on, one hand drifting to your backside and giving it a squeeze.

“Gi-oh, don’t,” you said, trying again to move away from him but his hand gripped your arm, pulling you in.

“Come on, Y/N. You didn’t dress up like that to be ignored,” Gi-oh argued.

“Stop, please,” you tried yanking your arm free.

“She said no, Gi-oh,” you heard a deep, angry voice behind you.

You turned around, coming face-to-face with Seokjin.

“Back off, freak. Y/N and I are just having a little fun,” Gi-oh rolled his eyes.

“Are you having fun, Y/N?” Jin asked.

“No,” you said quietly.

“Leave her alone. No means no,” Jin growled.

“Fine, you can have her ugly ass. Y/N don’t come crying to me when this bites you in the ass,” Gi-oh huffed, storming away.

“You okay?” Seokjin asked you.

“I’m fine…” you looked at the ground.

“Do you want to get some air? You look flushed.”

“After what happened with Gi-oh I don’t want to be alone out there in the dark,” you kicked at the floor with your shoe, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jin offered.

You looked up at him nervously and nodded slightly.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” you asked.

He nodded, following you out the door and down the driveway.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you nearly whispered, looking down at the ground.

Jin was hot and you were super nervous to be alone with him outside of classes, yet his presence made you feel safe, like nothing and no one could hurt you.

“No problem,” he smiled reassuringly.

You both walked in silence, and you kept glancing over at Jin nervously, feeling more awkward by the second. Jin was a man of few words, unless he was angry, so he wasn’t likely to start a conversation. You normally thrived in silence. Comfortable silence. This was awkward silence. It was driving you insane.

“Sorry you’re missing out on the party because of me.”

“I didn’t want to be there anyway,” he shrugged with a light chuckle.

“Why’d you come then?” you asked.

“Namjoon and Hoseok,” he explained.

“Your friends dragged you along too,” you smiled.

“Seems to be a recurring theme,” he glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twisting up.

You shivered as a chilly breeze flew past, cursing yourself internally for leaving your jacket at the party. Jin looked at you for a moment before shrugging his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Won’t you get cold?” you asked.

“I’ll be fine. Can’t let a pretty lady freeze to death, now can I?” his eyes twinkled.

Your cheeks burned hot and you hid your face but you were sure Jin could tell from the glow of the street lamps but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t miss the smirk that played on his lips though.

“I...thank you.” you managed to say quietly.

“Just callin’ it as I see it, princess,” Jin chuckled.

You hadn’t noticed you’d been walking long enough to be almost to the end of the Northside. You slowed down, looking around. The beautiful dark sky had lost its pretty diamond stars magical glow and storm clouds had replaced them.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Edge of town, didn’t notice we’d gone this far,” Jin answered.

The first drop of rain fell right on Jin’s forehead, and it started sprinkling, slowly turning into a heavier rain.

“Fuck, we’d better get inside somewhere,” Jin said, glancing around at all the closed signs on businesses.

“How far away are we from the party?” you asked.

“Like, 6 miles.”

“We’re gonna get soaked,” you frowned.

“My place is only a half mile from here,” he shrugged.

“Your place? You live alone?” you asked.

Jin nodded and the rain started pouring.

“Lead the way!” you shouted over the drumming of the water on the pavement.

He took off running, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him so you didn’t fall behind with your much shorter legs. You struggled to keep up as he led you to his apartment complex and unlocked the door to his unit, ushering you inside. You stood by the door, trying to squeeze the water out of your hair. Jin shook his head like a wet dog. You froze, not sure what to do, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Do you want some water? Maybe some dry clothes?” Jin offered, gesturing to your soaked dress.

“Would you mind? I’m kind of cold,” you let out a nervous giggle.

“Sure.” he disappeared into the bedroom, re-emerging in dry clothes, holding out a flannel shirt and some shorts for you.

“I think the shorts might be too big but the shirt is pretty long, so…” he trailed off.

“Thank you,” you took the clothes and went to the bathroom to change.

You stripped off your wet dress and pulled Jin’s shirt onto your body. It was almost as long as the dress. Your hair fell in damp waves after you’d rung it out and brushed through it. You cleaned up some of your running makeup and tried on the shorts, but they fell right off and you didn’t have a hair tie to make them stay. You hung your dress over the shower rod to dry then turned to look at yourself in the mirror and you felt kind of… sexy. Standing there in Jin’s shirt covering your body until mid-thigh, you looked hot. You walked out of the bathroom, immediately feeling less confident until you saw Jin’s split second double take. You coughed nervously and looked down.

“The shorts were too big,” you explained, handing them back.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his eyes raking up and down your body before snapping out of it and clearing his throat.

“So… what now?” you asked.

“It’s still pouring so I guess wait out the storm here?” he asked.

“Sure.” you smiled.

“Ummm… do you want to play a game or watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“We can play a game.” you smiled, sitting down and making sure you were covered up.

“Never have I ever or truth or dare?” he smirked.

“Ummm.. never have I ever,” you decided.

“Drinking version?” he lifted an eyebrow.

“Not in your best interest,” you laughed.

“Alright then, hold up your fingers,” he instructed.

You held up both hands, showing all ten fingers.

“Never have I ever read a fashion magazine.” Seokjin started.

You put one finger down.

“Never have I ever joined a frat,” you grinned, watching him frown before putting his finger down.

“Never have I ever read a romance novel,” he smirked.

You giggled and put your finger down.

“Never have I ever played beer pong,” you shot back.

Jin put down a finger, then thought for a moment.

“Never have I ever shaved my legs,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and put a finger down.

“Never have I ever been in a fight,” you said.

Jin put his finger down.

“Never have I ever had sex with a guy,” he grinned.

You sat there awkwardly.

“Wait, are you into girls?” he asked.

You shook your head, avoiding eye contact.

“You’re a virgin?” he gaped.

You looked down and nodded.

“That’s insane. Is it a personal choice?” he asked.

“Kind of? I haven’t met anyone I want to have sex with that feels the same,” you explained.

“Who in their right mind would pass up that opportunity?” he shook his head.

You looked away and giggled.

“Never have I ever kissed someone,” you said, keeping the game going.

“WHAT? No one has kissed you?! Y/N this is a travesty!” he squawked.

“Volunteering as tribute?” you joked.

“Damn straight I am.”

“Wait, what?” your eyes bugged out.

“I’d gladly kiss you,” he clarified.

“Really?” you tried to hide the hope in your voice.

Your stomach was in knots, butterflies wreaking havoc when he said, “yes.”

“Okay,” you barely whispered.

Jin scooted closer to you, glancing from your eyes to your lips as the anticipation increased. You were nothing but nerves as he cupped your face in both of his large hands, calloused fingers gingerly rubbing along your skin. Jin leaned in, closing his eyes. Holy shit, this is happening. Jin’s plush lips barely brushed yours, a featherlight touch, but your heart stopped. He kissed you for real, pressing his lips against your own firmly, and your whole world spun out of control. You were dizzy and full of joy and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on this. You felt like time had stopped. Jin pulled away, looking into your eyes like he was searching for something.

“Wow, if I’d known kissing felt like that I’d have done it sooner,” you broke the silence.

“It doesn’t,” he said in awe, “it never feels like that.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

In a flash, Jin crashed his lips to yours again and you fell back with the impact, Jin hovering over you on the couch. You wound your hands in his hair as he deepened the kiss, hands all over your body. You felt like a light switch had been turned on, and you were warm all over. You moaned into Jin’s mouth as his hands grazed your inner thigh.

“If you keep that up I won’t be able to stop myself,” Jin warned.

“Then don’t,” you said, looking into his eyes, “don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened and he studied you for a moment.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I need to hear you say it. Say you want me,” he purred in your ear.

“I want you Seokjin, so badly,” you whined.

That was all it took.

Jin ripped his shirt over his head, then with ridiculously quick and talented fingers, unbuttoned the flannel you were wearing, exposing your body to him. He licked his lips, eyes wandering along your smooth skin. Jin wasted no time, tossing the shirt off somewhere in the room and attacking your neck with love bites. You moaned his name, spurring him on. He unclipped your bra in record speed, his tongue instantly finding its way to your nipples, causing you to arch your back off the couch.

“This is your first time. It shouldn’t be here,” Jin mumbled, picking you up bridal style in nothing but your panties, carrying you into his bedroom and placing you gently on top of the covers.

You watched as he undid his belt and slid his pants off, only in his boxers as his body hovered over yours once more. Jin slowed down his assault, reminding himself this was a special moment for you, and he wanted it to be a good memory. He kissed and sucked on your neck, collarbone, your breasts, giving every inch of your skin attention.

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N. So pretty,” he cooed in your ear, “I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you’ll never forget this night. You’re going to feel me inside you for weeks after this, I promise.”

You squirmed at his dirty words, watching him.

“Prove it.”

Jin lifted an eyebrow, then started kissing down your stomach, skipping where you really wanted him entirely, and nipping at your inner thighs, massaging them each time. You leaned your head back, reveling in the feeling. You should’ve started having sex ages ago, this was amazing. Or maybe it was just Seokjin.

You were so lost in your thoughts, it took you by surprise when Jin’s tongue dived inside your aching heat and you groaned as his tongue licked figure 8’s on your clit, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. It felt so good to be touched by Seokjin. Of course you’d touched yourself over the years, but fuck it felt so much better when Jin did it. He was electrocuting you in the best way possible. You were so close to losing it when Jin halted his efforts and reached for the condom. He pulled his boxers down, exposing his rock hard cock and your eyes widened. He was huge. He had such a pretty cock though, you weren’t surprised. All of him was pretty.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Seokjin confirmed.

“Yes. I want you so bad, Jin,” you said, taking his hand and pulling him closer, “I’m glad it’s you.”

Jin smiled, kissing you gently and sliding into you, pausing to let you adjust when you hissed. Jin was big, you knew that even with your limited experience, and it kind of burned. The burning subsided and you gave him the okay to move, and once he did, you lost your mind. Every time Jin moved inside you, you felt like you were going to explode with pleasure. Each thrust felt significantly better than the last. He went slow, murmuring sweet things in your ear and taking his time, making sure you were comfortable.

“Fuck Jin,” you moaned.

You were so close, on the edge of bliss, and Jin could tell. He sped up, moving in and out of you a little rougher, only once he knew you could handle it. It didn’t take long after he sped up for you to lose it. You screamed his name, clinging to his body and scratching at his shoulders. You were flying, floating, burning, dying inside. It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced in your life. You could die a happy woman if this was the last thing you ever did. You couldn’t even suck in a breath, your whole body was shaking from the immaculate pleasure coursing through you. Jin rode you through your high, milking it for all it was worth before spilling into the condom himself, then flopping next to you, exhausted. After you both calmed down and found your normal breathing again, Jin looked over at you and found you watching him.

“Not to be ‘that girl’ but… what are we now? Are we just friends, or-” you began.

“No. I want you to be mine. I don’t want to think about you begging for anyone else, being touched by anyone else. Will you be mine?” he asked.

“Yes,” you rushed out, tackling him in little kisses.

You both cuddled for a while, and you changed your relationship status online, begging Seokjin for a couples selfie. He said no about 15 times before you wore him down, fixing your hair as best you could before snapping the photo and posting it online, tagging Seokjin in it. You commented underneath.

@sugaflake thanks for making me go out tonight, it was definitely worth it. <3

#KIM SEOKJIN #KIM SEOKJIN X READER #JIN #JIN X READER #JIN SMUT #SEOKJIN SMUT #BTS #BTS SMUT #seokjin #seokjin x reader

159 notes · View notes

sunnypogue · 4 years

Text

college rafe gets jealous (blurb)

lil bit of jealous rafe per anon request

college!rafe verse bc why the f00k not

note - jealous/possessive boyfriends usually are not the bizzzzz...not trying to romanticize any toxic traits, but hopefully you can sense a bit of growth from mr. cameron here.

(warning: nsfw-ish, possessive!rafe)

you’re sippin’ on bud from the bottle, chatting with your friend michelle & her boyfriend tyler, when he walks up.

it’s one of tyler’s pi kapp fraternity brothers, notorious for getting too drunk & a little too friendly - it looked like tonight would be no different, as he clasped your bare shoulders with his hands.

“wooo!” he yelled over the thumping base of the bar’s music. “I fucking LOVE game day!”

unc had destroyed florida state in a basketball game earlier that evening, resulting in a rather chaotic post-game celebration at the local bar. you, having worked the game, only got to the bar 15 minutes ago, playing catch up with your significantly more drunk friends.

“hi michael.” you winced, his voice booming in your ear - you were NOT drunk enough for this.

michelle laughed at your face as michael swung his arm around your shoulder, leaning down to drunkenly snuggle into your neck (you were never good at hiding your feelings, your face getting you in trouble more often than not). michael was slurring words you couldn’t understand as he started to dead weight himself on you, causing you to slightly stumble under the 6’2” frat boy.

“michael, get off.” you groaned, pushing him on the shoulder. “and lay off the dollar beers, for Christ’s sake.”

michael made no effort to move, instead weaving his arms around you in a pseudo-hug. you rolled your eyes, trying to shake him off. as tyler made a move to help de-tangle his friend from your body, you immediately felt a 220 pound weight lifted from you, the freedom almost disorienting you.

“what the fuck is going on?”

you looked up to see your boyfriend, rafe, angrily fisting the front of michael’s sweatshirt, two buds comfortably sitting between the fingers of his other hand.

“hey baby,” you started, moving to rest a gentle hand on the arm that was holding a very inebriated michael up, trying to disregard the small crowd of lambdas that flanked rafe, in case shit went down.

rafe ignored you, pulling michael closer to his face, “keep your hands off her. I don’t want to have to explain it to you again.” his words were scarily even, face emotionless as he stared michael down.

he shoved michael back towards michelle and tyler, who barely caught the stumbling boy, before rafe pointed a beer at them, “tyler, keep your little bitch in check. shit’s embarrassing at this point.”

you looked apologetically towards michelle, who was trying to simultaneously hold michael up and talk tyler down from a fight, before following rafe, who was stomping towards the front door, knocking the remainder of his beer back.

“hey!” you yelled, tugging on his arm before he started to put back the second bud, stopping him from leaving the bar. “what the fuck?”

he looked down at you. “I should be asking you that.”

you rolled your eyes, “it’s michael. he’s trashed, I genuinely think he thought I was a wall or something to hold him up.”

rafe chuckled mirthlessly, before polishing off the second beer, setting it down on a dirty table. he turned his backwards hat around, pulling it down low over his eyes. “let’s go.”

you crossed your arms. “really? you’re gonna do this shit right now?”

rafe turned towards the exit, growling, “I’m leaving.”

great - he’s deflecting. you thought, as you chugged the remainder of your beer, before hustling after him.

you shivered in your tank top as you caught up to him on the side walk outside the bar, watching as he ordered an uber, his breathing deep and heavy. you wordlessly leaned into his warm body, teeth chattering in the cold january air.

“here.” rafe grumbled, sliding his sweatshirt off to wrap around you. “it’s january, baby. what the hell are you wearing?”

you grinned, half pleased he wasn’t completely shutting you out, half pleased you were cozy and warm. “who cares? I look cute.”

he grumbled again, wrapping his arms around your neck from behind, pulling your back into his chest. y’all waited like that for the uber to pull up, before sliding into the back seat, rafe propping your feet up on his lap, a hand wrapped possessively around your ankle.

you caught his eye about a block from his house, giving him a shy smile and a wink. he growled, hand sliding up your leg.

you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough, practically tumbling out of the uber as rafe stalked after you, still slightly worked up from the incident at the bar. you went to go casually sit on the foot of the bed, kicking your shoes off, when rafe caught up to you, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

“you gonna be pissy all night?” you teased, pulling your hair down from its half-updo.

“what, I can’t be mad about some fucker groping you at a bar?” rafe growled, pulling his hat off to run his hands through his hair. you sat up on your knees, grabbing the hat from his hands before popping it backwards on your head.

“he wasn’t groping me,” you said, exasperated, adjusting your hair under his hat. “he was trying to stay vertical. very different.”

rafe gave you an amused look as you started to shimmy your jeans off while sitting, giving you a hand when they got stuck around your ankles.

“lookin’ good.” he laughed, taking in your appearance - you were down to just his hat and his sweatshirt, the rest of your outfit on the floor.

you smiled at rafe’s more-relaxed demeanor, popping up on your knees. “you’re a lucky man, rafe cameron. I’m not sure any other girl could pull this look off.”

rafe hummed, walking up to the foot of the bed to grab your ass, pulling you in. you squeaked, tipping forward into his chest, the too-big cap slipping down on your forehead.

you peered up at him, using one hand to steady yourself on his chest, the other to push the hat back - “you better now?”

rafe leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, teeth nipping your bottom lip enough to make you gasp, allowing his tongue to slide in. one hand slid to roughly grasp the back of your neck as he dictated the pace, the other palming your ass cheek, keeping your body flush to his.

you pulled away a couple minutes later, breathless and lips already feeling bruised, hand moving to your chest to settle your heightened heart rate.

“a little better.” he mumbled, hand moving to the front of your neck, lightly tracing your throat with his fingers. “I know what will really help, though.”

(later, you found yourself seated on his cock, tits bouncing as you rode him wearing nothing but the hat, his hand spanking your ass as he made you tell him who you belonged to - you screamed his name as you came on his cock, screamed his name as he came inside you, and screamed his name as he went to eat his come out of you, listening to him growl “you’re mine” as he shoved his face in your dripping cunt.)

as y’all basked in the afterglow, your legs twisted around his, his hand cupping one of your breasts, he breathed out an apology.

“sorry, baby. I know you hate that shit.” he murmured, mindlessly letting his finger circle your nipple.

you wiggled under his light touch, “s’okay baby. you didn’t fight anyone tonight.”

he smirked, rolling your now-hard nipple between his fingers, watching your head tip back in pleasure. “what can I say baby, I’m practically a pacifist now.”

you snorted, smacking his bare shoulder, pleasure forgotten in the humor. “okay bub, whatever you say.” you giggled again. “pacifist my ass. you literally fought a beta in october because he looked at my ass.”

you yelped as rafe tugged you into his side, rolling you under him, his arms bracketing your head. “like it didn’t turn you on.”

you moaned as he leaned down to kiss you again, filthy and slow, tongues fighting for control.

he pulled away a few moments later, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hand cupped your cheek.

you pouted, nuzzling into his palm. “I really should stop sleeping with you after you get all jealous - I think you think I’m encouraging it.”

rafe grinned down at you, slipping his thumb between your teeth, watching as your eyes widened. “whatever babes,” he chuckled, pressing the digit down on your tongue, “you’re mine.”

#this is so unedited #im so sorry lol #rafe cameron #drew starkey #college rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #she writes

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adorehs · 4 years

Text

changing your tune

Hi I just wanted to mention that a lot of this might be inaccurate. This is based off of my time in my city's youth orchestra so while I’m sure some things transfer, but not everything. Kinda bad at the end per usual <3

Summary: Classical Musician!Y/N has created a simple life for herself consisting of herself, her music, and the boy she loves. Friends to lovers. (15.6k words)

Warnings: mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut, minor character death.

“I just think I need to have a fuller tone to really get the dark undertone of the music. Like, it’s so clearly meant to be this dark, horrible travesty but if I can’t get the tone right then it’s just this light and airy travesty. But I can’t bend the note just right, my air is, like, gone,” you vent out.

Harry watches you intently from where he sat in your study with a hand holding his chin up and an elbow on his knee, “I think it sounds great.”

You look at him unimpressed, “It’s all chalumeau. Of course it sounds good, it just doesn't sound right.”

“Right, so it’s in the lower register,” he mentally reminds himself, “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

You let out a sigh and pick up your clarinet from the stand it rested on, “It sounds kind of different without my custom, but the r13 will work for now,” you mumble, adjusting the reed and ligature on your mouthpiece, a nervous tick you picked up in school.

Your eyes flicker up to Harry, waiting for his glance of approval before you start. Your cheeks expertly swell and decompress in size as you circular breathe through the measures, your mind concentrated on the smooth transitions between rhythms and the registers, cutting the triplets short as you’ve written them.

The soothing noise of your clarinet fills the large room immediately, your forte becoming all too loud to process any thoughts. The victorian-styled room had low hanging lights that streamed a warm orange tone over the patterned chairs and built-in bookcase that held hundreds of music books with etudes you’ve mastered since your youth.

Though the warm tones made the room feel homely, the curtains were drawn back and the windows were opened ajar allowing a short breeze to flow in every two minutes. You knew better then to turn on a fan around your hand-crafted instrument. You understood the fluctuation it would cause if the temperature changed drastically day by day. This is why you were careful to turn the air conditioning off before you opened the window, keeping the temperature relatively steady through the day.

Harry watched you in pure concentration- he was truly enamoured by the way you lost yourself in music. He wanted to understand what you were saying but it was hard- he enjoyed music but was completely deaf when it came to describing the mood of a piece.

He worked with numbers, and loved it. A born accountant in your presence, watching you play your clarinet with what seems to be ease. But you seemed so distant from him. A whole world away. And how was he going to sweep you off your feet when he can hardly understand your career?

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as the technique became more difficult, effectively making you let off your clarinet and huff a breath of disapproval. Your heart was clearly pounding after the page you played at full tempo for effect, but you tried not to show the effect the music had on your body.

You reached for your pencil before erasing a note you had written and writing another one in, a higher register G#. The graphite smeared on the yellow-tinted manuscript book that sat on the music stand before you, everything shaking lightly as vigorously colored in the line and drew in a staccato articulation above the sixteenth note.

Forgetting Harry’s presence, you picked up your clarinet once again and played the same measure in sets of five, increasing the tempo by four beats each time, before deciding it is satisfactory for now.

Your face only showed a slight upturn, as you wrote in a new measure, testing how the chord would resolve with some soft air and incomplete vibrations through the wooden block. Minor chord or major? you asked yourself.

Harry’s eyes watched yours as they darted across the room from your clarinet, to your manuscript, to your metronome, which was silently flashing a red light at a tempo of 180 and a subdivision of eighth notes.

He wondered who taught you so harshly- he’d never seen someone so critical of their own work. You liked to make everything very perfect in a meticulous way- you knew just when to linger on the seventh of a chord to leave an uneasy feeling in the pit of one;s stomach and you were stellar when it came to expressing a story and emotion through your music. At least that’s what Harry thought.

“So where does your tone need to get fuller?” he asks again.

You looked up at him, slightly shocked. You had forgotten he was there, “When I get higher, like, near the F#. It has no depth to the note and it sounds like a playground piece,” you explain softly, watching as his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“So you want it to sound darker when the octave goes up?” he confirms one more time.

You nod, “Yeah. Want it to sound more emotional and thoughtful. It also makes me sound like a stylistically competent player,” your eyes flicker back to the page in an instant.

“I think your style is good. You have a good variety in the symphony, too. They’ll like this one. Get the solo down and then ask some people to come and play with you,” Harry comments, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants as he sits back further in the chair. The heavy fabric makes a dissatisfying pulling noise as Harry moves around in the chair, resting his hands on the dark wooden arms with ornate carvings on the ends.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “They haven’t taken my last three. If I can just make one good one, I can take some more risks and possibly compose a whole symphony,” you pause, making eye contact with Harry again, “But that’ll take years. Probably only when I retire from the orchestra.”

“They are good,” Harry argues weakly. He doesn’t know how to convince you because all he knows is that he likes it.

“Well clearly they’re not as good as you and I think,” you counter with a huff, picking up your clarinet once more before playing the same piece from the beginning.

After an overextended work week, Harry was excited to go out and have some fun with his friends. He was still a ripe twenty-six year old, working long and hard hours as a starting budget analyst, hoping to be promoted higher within the job and lighten his workload- at least that's what everyone promised will happen. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of going out and celebrating his friends.

It was an all too familiar setting- a sticky, trashed bar with little to no care given to the seats that were falling apart at the seams. He found himself thinking of the frat parties you had described to him when he asked what Greek Life was.

But, he was there to celebrate one of his colleagues' birthdays. It was her twenty-fifth, so he found himself understanding the want for a big party. The bar might have been trashed but it was large and suitable for the hundreds of people she seemed to invite.

And among the hundreds, he only viewed one. You.

You wore a dress that you pulled from the back of your closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in college. You wore it to special events and networking parties, but you found it all too nice to wear to most other situations you found yourself in.

Harry had definitely forgotten your connection to his colleague, or better known as your sister. He watched as you greeted her with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, an awkward side hug was exchanged as everyone around you both cheered in excitement. You were pretty loved.

“Happy birthday Mon,” you repeat for the second time that day, “Hope the year treats you well.”

Your sister smiled in response, “Off to a great start,” she eyes the party reviving behind you, “I’m glad you could make it. Thought you’d have a performance tonight.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Requested this day off a year ago. Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year!”

Your sister glances at you with a look of amusement, “Happy Monica day is your favorite of the year?”

“Yup, love happy Monica day,” you reiterate.

Monica opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by a deep British accent, “Happy birthday Mon!” you hear from behind you.

You turn around quickly, side stepping to allow Harry into your conversation. He leans into your sister before granting her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “How are you?” he asks, replacing your spot in front of her.

You smile at Monica and halfheartedly wave a goodbye as you slowly make your way over to the bar to order some food. You decided a year ago that you were going to stop drinking. At first, it was a hard choice to make. You were used to having a drink in most social situations, especially being a young adult working with people of all ages. It was a common scene to find you in- an after party with hundreds of musicians having a glass of champagne or white wine in celebration.

You sat yourself on a deep crimson stool, swirling slightly as you waited for your sliders to be given to you. Watching as people met and reconnected was isolating for you. You knew very few people Monica worked with and found yourself just shy of saying hi to someone who looked friendly every time you were at a gathering such as this one.

Nodding a silent thank you as your sliders were placed in front of you, your attention shifts. It was the loud talking and blaring music that made your brain want to go into overdrive, never quite getting used to noises you couldn’t control.

“Hi, Y/N,” you feel a body slide into the seat beside you. You couldn’t exactly pin whose voice it was at first listen so you shift your body towards them and slide the plate between you two as a peace offering.

“Hey,” you reply, making eye contact with one of Monica’s friends you met when she first started working at the firm.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m alright, Louis. And yourself?”

“I’m quite alright. Been working a lot. Itching to get promoted,” he lets out a small laugh, “But who isn’t.”

You shoot him a grin, “Not sure, I love my job.”

“When’re you playing next? Love to come see you play. Haven't been to the new show yet,” he leans in towards you and takes a slider before leaning back again.

“Play Thursday to Sunday every week until November. Then we switch to Christmas ballets,” you tell him with a grin, “I recommend Thursday or Sunday, though. Best prices and best crowd.”

He nods in confirmation, “I’ll have to take Harry with me, know he’s been bugging me to go with him for a while.”

“Yeah, bring him! It’ll be fun, we can all go out after too!” you counter, dismissing Louis' comment about Harry’s insistent nature. That was just him, you thought.

“Definitely,” he agrees, “Plus it’s a nice way to unwind. I’ll definitely see if I can come soon.”

“Oh, please! I love seeing a familiar face. Feel like I play better,” you laugh, “Still get nervous, but Harry always tells me I’ll do amazing.”

“Harry’s good at that,” Louis agrees, “Always makes sure you don’t undersell yourself. And he’s right! You’re amazing.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, “Thank you! He’s definitely everyone's biggest cheerleader,” you joke. Turning around entirely in your stool, your eyes sift quickly through the crowd in search of Harry. “See, there he is,” you chortle, “Hyping up Niall as he chugs a,” you squint.

“A beer, probably,” Louis completes for you.

You both laugh and watch as Niall shoots up from his spot on the ground in victory before immediately falling back onto the ground with great dramatics. The room roars as Harry helps his friend stand back up and walks him over to the bathroom before swinging the door back open, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pauses for effect, “The boy lives!”

The room once again falls into a unison form of laughter as Niall appears behind Harry moments later, “Where’s the beer?” he shouts over the laughs, which quickly turn into cheers at his sportsmanship.

While Louis lets out a loud laugh at his friend's antics and moves towards the crowd to see more clearly, you looked up towards Harry. He dressed himself impressively well considering his lack of knowledge in the arts. Though he wore a simple outfit consisting of a red button up and black jeans, his confidence soared higher than anyone else’s you’d seen in a while.

His smile was infectious and seemed to fill his whole face and as his eyes raised to meet yours it grew to a tenfold. Speaking with his body language, you somehow sensed that he wanted you to get up and join him.

You shook your head with a smile and mouthed ‘I’m fine here!’ only to receive a ‘What!?’ in response. You shook your head in defeat and stood up, mouthing the same phrase only slower.

Harry replied with a look of realization and instantaneously, a pout replaced his smile. You frowned at your effect on him, not wanting him to feel upset because of you of all people.

You stood up and slowly started making your way over to him, allowing the smile to rediscover its place on his lips. He was watching you near him, when his head suddenly snapped towards a high pitched scream coming from your sister, “It’s midnight!” she shouts.

Harry chuckles at her dramatics and smiles when he feels your body press up against his side. He didn’t have to look to know it was you, he could smell your distinct perfume as you neared him and he was happy knowing you found comfort around him- though that should’ve been clear from the nights upon nights you spend together, him listening to your music and you listening to his rants.

Monica was handed a bottle of champagne and she stepped into the middle of the corner you all occupied, people filing in suit around her and forming a circular crowd.

“Hey everyone! Uh- thank you so much for coming- I mean it. It means a lot to me to be surrounded by a bunch of people I love on my favorite day of the year!” She jokes, earning some light laughs and a few words of endearment thrown back at her. “No, seriously, thanks a lot, and,” she trails off, her thoughts too blurry for her planned speech, “Here’s to twenty five!” she cheers, shaking the champagne bottle, allowing it to pop and spray all over. She quickly spins in an attempt to spray everyone, but the champagne bubbles over and only gets half the group.

You and Harry both laugh, shaking your hands to get the sticky substance off your bodies. “She tries every year and never succeeds,” you tell him.

He chuckles in response, “She gets too drunk to remember.”

“Or she just thinks that she’s sober enough to get it this year,” you laugh back.

Harry laughs and nods, “Definitely. She thinks she’s perfectly fine,” he points at Monica who is going around the circle and hugging everyone in thanks. “To be fair she looks okay,” he adds.

“She always does,” you agree with Harry.

The two of you fall silent and you stand back watching your sister make rounds. Harry’s hand creeps onto your back as he steps closer to you, bringing you in front of him. He hums along to the song you couldn’t remember the name of that was blaring on the speakers and he basks in the glory of being in your presence.

Soon enough, your sister had made her way over to the two of you, hugging you both and exchanging her thanks for coming and just as quick as she came, she left you two alone.

“So, uh,” Harry starts.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna leave. Got an early start tomorrow,” you tell Harry, pointing at the door.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, you should go,” he stammers.

You smile at him, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later?” you asked, stepping towards Monica to say a final happy birthday and goodnight.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods in confirmation.

You wave before finding your sister and saying goodnight, then driving yourself back home.

Harry was sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap and a blanket covering his legs. He was doing some research in an attempt to find books that could teach him about music theory.

He told himself he wanted to be more involved in his friends' lives and further his education in one of his weakest subjects- music. But in reality, it was clear to those around him that he wanted to impress you and be more involved in your life and yours only. They had never seen him pick up a book on physical therapy or take a quick online course on python- he was doing it all purely for you.

He was contemplating if he should invest in a book or just take a free online course, both seemed like viable options but he wanted to optimize his time. He wanted to make it click faster.

He decided he’d try the online course and take his chances and if he still didn’t understand he would invest in a book.

So there he was on a Tuesday evening sitting in bed with his headphones in learning how basic chords were made. He wrote notes as if he was still in school and studied them after each lesson. He wasn’t fully immersed in the world like you were, but he felt as though he could carry a bit more of a conversation with you about music, especially when compared to before.

Harry was learning slowly but surely and in about a week he could, in theory, explain how to develop a minor chord from it’s major among various other basics (that you would probably think were common knowledge) but he had no recollection of learning.

As per usual, he spent every Monday and Wednesday evening with you. On Mondays, you would have movie night and on Wednesdays, he would get some work done in your office while you played. It never truly distracted him, either. Honestly, it made him feel very peaceful and he found that the routine was more about being in the presence of each other rather than making memories.

One Wednesday, he had completed his work early and as usual, he would sit and see what you had composed to help give his limited input on your compositions.

Typically, he would sit and listen silently with a slight tilt to his head while he thought up a thoughtful comment about your playing. You would always sit there anxiously, with your posture beginning to slouch since you were not playing anymore, waiting for a comment that you both knew would be neither helpful or negative.

Harry was good at that. He was good at making you feel like you were doing good with absolute sincerity and not a single waiver of his voice. His face would stay straight and he would find the good in it all. It was probably your favorite part of the man who sat with you on the particular day.

This time, unlike the last, your window was shut tight and you were trying your hardest to keep your hands steady. You couldn’t make the piece sound right. It sounded okay but that would not get you signed. It needed to be calculated and perfect in a theoretical standpoint. It also needed to be simple enough to split into parts for larger groups but difficult enough to have solo excerpts from each instrument- in case a full orchestra didn’t work.

And that was difficult to accomplish.

Harry knew that and he agreed- how could one person who hadn’t ever been signed make such an elaborate piece? He thought it was absolutely absurd that to maximize your chances you had to make the piece a combination of just about everything.

You sat with the same face as you usually did, one pleading for some sort of advice or criticism. What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to deliver.

“Think if you made it a minor chord instead of a major and ended on the seventh it could bring some edge,” Harry eventually says.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion, “Yeah, uh, let me try that,” you stammered.

You covered what you had written with a sticky note, drawing on the new scale. You showed Harry the note and asked him if that was what he was thinking, to which he replied yes. You nod lightly and play the piece once again from the beginning, swaying slightly as you approached lyrical bits and narrowed your air stream to control your volume.

Harry nods along with your playing, pausing slightly in places he could tell you didn’t like much. Eventually, he watches as you play what he had suggested, anxiety rising up his throat in fear of not being accepted.

“Think I like it. But I need to fix some of the other stuff too,” you told him once you finished. “It would definitely feel right that way.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He rounded the long desk and joined you where you sat by the window in an uncomfortable chair made to help keep your posture near perfect. He crouched down so he could be eye level with your music and furrowed his brows.

You watched as he read the notes carefully, taking his time as he took in each technically challenging measure and the lyrically soft measures in contrast. You grew anxious for his approval so you busied yourself by taking the sticky note off of the manuscript and erasing and redrawing the notes for the new scale Harry advised you to add.

You took your time, slowly coloring each eighth note, the graphite crumbling down the page, leaving a light smear as you wiped it away with the side of your hand.

Harry looked up at you, “I think you should change this,” he points, “Make it flat and get rid of this note entirely,” he spoke slowly. You watch as his finger indicates each note and you nod along softly.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you agree.

He nods in response and rests his hand on your thigh, you hardly notice the action that felt natural in the moment.

You temporarily wrote in each suggestion and played the piece again from the beginning, a process the two of you were becoming increasingly annoyed with. As you approached the measure he had pointed out, your mind wondered: how did he know all this and why didn’t he mention any of it before?

Your air slowed down as your mind wandered and your fingers followed closely after, a ritardando, Harry noted. He hadn’t mentioned tempo but he found that bringing the piece down to cut time brought a new feeling that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Abruptly, you stopped, and Harry knew you didn’t realize. You both sat in silence for a moment before Harry stood up and moved back over to where he was sitting previously. He cleared his throat, “I’m gonna head out. Good luck Y/N,” he rushed out.

You shook your head in disbelief. You truly didn’t understand what just happened. But, you shook it off and tried again, keeping the ritardando.

Harry on the other hand, was in a state of panic. He had realized what he had done and he thought she did too, resulting in her abrupt stopping point.

Harry had begun to understand that he was in love with you. And he didn’t know until just then. But he had done everything just for you.

The following Sunday Harry finally managed to drag Louis out of his city apartment and downtown to the Meyerson Symphony Center where you were to perform Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Neither Harry or Louis have seen you perform this particular show so they were late to learn that you had auditioned for and successfully got the clarinet solo in a particular piece from the Symphony named Scherzo.

You had explained to Harry your appeal to this particular symphony- you found it to be unique of all the others that accompanied Shakespeare's work. Instead of relaying a difficult emotion or putting a satirical spin on a human issue like his other works did, you found Midsummer to be a pure romp into romance and the abnormalities of love.

And though you hadn’t been in love for a while, you found yourself feeling the emotion wholly through both the piece and music in it of itself.

Harry had read midsummer before- in fact he had seen it live with his mum and sister when he was younger, but he never understood the effect the music had on the play. He never looked into the contextualization of the play, let alone the deeper aspirations of it.

He understood music theory but he still had trouble analyzing music itself. He couldn’t pinpoint moods by just listening- he needed to see it written out which he believed hindered his ability to enjoy music to its fullest extent.

Needless to say, Harry entered the theater with Louis with a thought of determination. All he wanted was to find a way to understand the music and appreciate it as you did. They were both clad in matching suits, a simple black and white for the symphony, and made their way to the middle where their tickets directed them. Harry sat in the aisle and Louis sat right next to him, whispering in excitement of the show.

“I fucking love this story,” Louis says.

Harry lets out a quiet laugh, “I hardly remember it.”

Louis joins Harry in laughter and shrugs, “Oh well, it’ll still be good.”

Harry nods in agreement and turns away from Louis as the curtains open and the lights dim.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you on this stage, but he found himself mesmerized as he found you with his eyes. He watched as you scanned the crowd quickly, your eyes jumping past him and Louis a few times before you recognized your friends. You shot them each a relieved smile and sat up straighter in your chair.

The conductor cast a smile at everyone before beginning the first piece, the Overture making its debut in the room. Just as Harry was used to, the melodic sounds filled the room to the brim, every last corner feeling the pure emotion that was put into the piece.

Harry couldn’t describe the feeling but he knew he was proud. He understood that watching you in your element is probably the worst thing he could do for himself, but he had to. It was pure torture to watch you fall in love with something that wasn’t him, but he loved the way it happened.

You lost yourself so easily and he felt as though you were the loudest in the room. He could hear your sound over everyone else's, your instrument being isolated from all the others in his mind. Harry could swear he had never been so proud in his life to see someone do what they love.

As the overture came to a close, his hands met in applause and he felt the need to stand up just so you would know how much he loved it. But as quickly as he started, he stopped his applause and the next piece was beginning.

No. 1 Scherzo. It was the second piece on the track and your personal favorite for reasons you would not disclose to Harry. He had heard you practice it a few times before, nodding along as he recognized fragments of the piece.

It was around three minutes into the piece when Harry learned why it was your favorite. Because it was just you. You were the only one playing- your solo bringing tears to his eyes. It was just that moment when you looked up and made eye contact with Harry, him nodding with a large grin on his face with reassurance, you’re doing amazing, it read.

When you looked back up at your music, your eyes narrowing in concentration, you failed to notice the look on Harry’s face. His phone had buzzed and he found himself confused- he was sure he put it on silent. The feeling that was elicited was nothing but good, so he decided to go check just for some peace of mind.

He stood up, pointing at his phone when Louis questioned him silently, gaining a nod of approval as Harry exited the theater in a rush.

The second he exited the room that was beginning to become overly stuffy and constricting, he took a deep breath and told himself you’re probably just overreacting.

Harry was anywhere from overreacting. It was that exact moment that he had received a text that was pushed through do not disturb. The text was from his mum and read nothing but horrible news. The five words that found themselves on his screen that illuminated his face as he stood right next to the door called him a coward. They read: This contact has dialed 999.

Harry understood the severity of the situation but he didn’t know what to do. All he knew is that she called- he didn’t know why or where she was. He didn’t know if he had to book a flight back home or not.

Just as Harry was getting up and leaving for his own agenda, you had finished your solo. You looked up once again, hearing the applause and searching for Harry once more. But this time, you found Louis sat alone with a large grin creeping across his face and his applause filling the space next to him.

You had never felt as hurt as you did in that moment. He had left you. Harry, the man you now realized you love, found something more important than you and your aspirations, and there was no physical way that it wouldn’t sting. What you didn’t know was that as your heart was breaking, Harry’s mum’s was.

It had taken two hours for someone to answer the phone. Two hours for Harry to spend most of his savings on a red eye to the London airport. Ten hours for him to touch down in London. Three to make his way to the hospital next to his childhood home.

He was distraught to say the least.

He had left without mention of what was happening, his phone exploding with texts from Louis and Monica making sure he was okay, but not a word from you. He felt betrayed, but he understood. You had things going on too and he wasn’t the center of your universe.

The hospital looked sterile, not a single thing out of place. The walls were coated in a pristine white color that nearly blinded Harry’s bloodshot eyes, and he spent a few minutes catching his breath before he asked where his dad was.

He walked sluggishly onto the elevator, the weight of reality crushing him as he waited for what seemed like ages but really was hardly forty seconds for the elevator to jolt to a stop. When it stepped off, he saw what he imagined to be organized chaos.

People were walking quickly up and down the lengths of the corridor and he found himself passing by far too many crying people to think anything good could ever happen in a hospital- not revival nor birth.

He walked the length of the corridor in silence, taking in his surroundings. He was in shock- he could hardly even process that he was in England, let alone why he was there. It was only when he stopped shortly at the sight of his mum and sister sleeping, their heads resting on each other's, that he realized the severity of what was happening.

And so, with a deep breath, he sat down on the floor before them, resting his back lightly against the leg chairs and he rested his forehead on his knees. It didn’t seem like his life that he was living- he felt like this was all a vivid dream, but it wasn’t. It was less than twenty four hours ago that he was with Louis watching your performance and now he sat with his family outside of his father's hospital room praying he would be okay.

Harry was one of hopeful thinking and that was made apparent when a doctor exited his father's room with a stack of papers.

Harry was the first to stand, followed by his mother and sister, who were unsure of when he had arrived. He shook hands with the doctor, who he learned was named doctor Wilson. He was clad in the same scrubs as every other doctor but Harry found his to be a special type of unattractive- or maybe that was his subconscious distracting himself from the situation at hand.

Doctor Wilson cleared his throat as Anne made her way next to Harry, Gemma shielding herself from the news from behind him, “So,” he cleared his throat “Mr. Styles came in about a year ago to have his lungs screened, as you may know, and he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer,” he nodded.

“Well, Mr. Styles seems to have,” he left a pregnant pause in his sentence, “He seems to have the cancer cells spreading rapidly. We would like to put him on a self contained respirator and monitor him closely to give you some more accurate information about his cancer and give you some answers within a few hours,” he says slowly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief- his father had never mentioned cancer let alone a screening.

“Thank you doctor,” he heard Anne speak from behind him. He sent a last glance at the broken family and moved back into the room.

It was the first you had heard from him in about half a week. He had called you on Wednesday after not answering your messages asking if he will make his way over on Monday for your movie night.

“Hi,” you answer softly.

“Hey- uh,” you heard some shuffling, “Hey.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, “Are you coming over?”

There was a long pause on Harry’s end and you just about opened your mouth to confirm that he could hear you when he replied, “No,” he said shortly. “I- uh- I’m at home.”

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked in confusion.

“No, like, I’m in the UK,” he quickly corrected you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, leaving a pregnant pause on your end, “Oh,” you replied.

“Yeah, I-” you could hear a few other voices in the background and you imagined they were his mum and sister, “My dad- he’s not doing so good. He has stage four lung cancer.”

“Oh,” you let out again. “I- uh- sorry, I really just don’t know what to say right now.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, which you could tell had bitter undertones, “That’s alright… don’t exactly know what to say myself.”

“I- uh- I’m really sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “God I feel like such an ass,” you expressed.

Harry’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked up at his mum to ensure she wasn’t listening, “No need, I promise it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.”

“I just- I was so mad at you for leaving and not saying anything and ignoring me. Thought I did something wrong or you were mad at me,” you explain. “Didn’t know what was going on and I was scared that I lost you.”

“Couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Harry laughed softly, you joining his laughter momentarily.

“Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going?” Harry asked after a long moment of silence.

“No- not at all. Was mainly just worried,” you reassure him, “I totally understand,” but you didn’t. How could he not tell you? Did he not think you deserved to know why he left when you were playing for him?

“I’m really sorry. Kinda just fell off the face of the Earth for a few days. Was anticipating the news and trying to stay strong for my mum and Gemma,” he explains.

Before you could reply, Harry starts again, “Hey, uh, we’re going back to the hospital so I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he says quickly before hanging up and leaving you alone in your study, clarinet in front of you.

You truly didn’t know how to cope with what just happened- it felt like heartbreak on two spectrums- family and lover. But he was neither, which hurt even more.

You picked up the piece of handcrafted wood that sat in front of you and tried your hardest to pour your heartbreak into the piece- adding pain, edge, and suffering to the nearly- done piece in an attempt to exert your feelings into something productive.

It worked like a charm, which was something you felt bad mentioning. You found yourself falling in love with the piece, fractures of your heart making up every line and the composition falling right into place as your muse fell right apart across the world.

It was the next morning when you received the message from Harry: He’s gone. In his sleep. I’ll be home in a week. Gotta sort some things out. -H

Harry arrived home that following Tuesday and he was exhausted but grateful to be back to his tiny townhouse in the middle of a city with his friends surrounding him.

He felt as though coping wasn’t an option anymore- he had taken up a whole week for that and in this moment in time he felt as though he had already done enough coping.

There was a memorial service the weekend after his father died and to say Harry’s family were crushed would be an understatement.

Anne, Gemma, and Harry each had prepared a speech for the service and none of them felt as though they could do the senior Styles any justice. He was a good man and they couldn’t even begin to explain that to everyone there. Nobody could understand the pain in the same way as they did, so they did their best to remember him in the best light.

Harry was mainly happy for one thing- the following day was Wednesday. He had taken off the rest of the week so he could recover from any jet lag and start the new week back with a fresh start, so he knew that tomorrow would be a great day to catch up. With work and with you.

He hadn’t seen a single person since he was back but upholding the tradition was important to him. He favored you over most all his friends anyway, so when he parked his old car in the driveway of the large house you inherited from your grandparents, he was excited.

He knocked twice and rang your doorbell once,queuing you to open the door in shock less than a minute after. “What are you doing here?” you ask confused, pulling Harry into a long hug. You had missed him on his ten days of abstinence from you.

“Got back yesterday, can’t skip out on tradition,” he shoots you a smile, letting go of your warm embrace. You took a moment to look at him before deciding he wanted a distraction from everything going on in his life.

You open the door further, beckoning him to come in, “Well come on, I need your opinion on my piece,” you gesture towards your office dramatically.

Harry chuckles and bows in thanks, “After you,” he says with a posh accent.

You both laugh, heading inside to where your things were set up and ready to go. He sat down in the same chair as he always does and you round the desk to sit where your clarinet was standing and your manuscript laid.

“Okay, so I added, kind of a lot, while you were gone,” you warm him.

He nodded and gestured for you to play, “Well go on then. Show me what you added,” he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at Harry and your music a few times each in an attempt to correlate the two in your mind- this was your Harry and he would never hurt you. You began to play the piece that you had become sickly familiar with but Harry found himself utterly perplexed at the sound of a new beginning. You had nearly changed the entire beginning and Harry loved it.

He found it to be oddly comforting to listen to you for what felt like the first time ever but in reality it was just another sense of stability in the world you two had created- the world that was exclusively Harry and Y/N.

The moment you reached the end, a bit he had helped you with, you found yourself stumbling over your composition, making Harry's brow furrow together. You were a perfectionist when it came to music- you loved the control that came with being able to play flawlessly and change how it all came together and he found it odd that you of all people were messing up something you had written in for weeks.

“Sorry,” you let out a huff, running a hand through your hair, “I’m really stressed and it’s really making this all worse.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “You should take a break,” he tells you with full seriousness.

You look at him with a blank face for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Harry looked at you confused, “I’m serious.”

“Harry this is my job. This is equivalent to me getting a promotion. I can’t stop!” you explain harshly.

Harry nodded, “I understand. Just-” he paused, “Just come with me, okay?”

“No, Harry, I can't, I have to do this,” you stood your ground.

“Y/N,” he spoke firmly, “If you hate this and want to kick me out for a week and let you compose on your own after this, you can. Just come.”

You let out a sigh and deliberated your options, “Fine. But there is a high chance you’re not showing up at my door for a week,” you point an accusatory finger at Harry.

He raises his hands in defense, “Okay, noted. Let’s go slowpoke,” he teased.

You flashed him your middle finger and a toothy grin before packing up your clarinet and setting it on your desk. You follow Harry out to his car and get in the passenger seat as he starts the car and makes his way out of your neighborhood.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry replied, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re so annoying,” you reply.

“You love me,” he states smugly, making your eyes grow the size of saucers.

“Not right now I don’t” you tease once you recover from your previous state of shock.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Home Depot. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

You wondered why he could be taking you to Home Depot of all places- not getting food or going shopping to find another piece of clothing you don’t need.

Harry parked easily before exiting the car, you follow after him in a haste. You have to job to catch up with Harry who seems to be walking a mile a minute to get into the building, “What the fuck are we doing here?” you ask again.

“We,” Harry says, pointing at the two of you, “Are going to paint that white wall in your office,” he says with a smile.

Your face mirrors his, a grin of your own making its way across your face. You had mentioned to Harry months ago that you were itching to paint the room but you never made the time for yourself to do that.

This time, it was you who took the lead, teasing Harry for taking too long to make his way into the store. You find your way to the back of the store where you see a few employees mixing paint for customers and you find your way to the pantone swatches, Harry immediately picking up a brown one, “I think it’ll match the wood, no?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No I want it to be your hair color.”

Harry’s mouth opens in realization before grabbing another strip. He squints, reading the name aloud, “Werge,” he says confused.

You fall into a fit of laughter before moving down the wall to look at the blues, the color you were actually hoping to get.

With Harry’s unwillingness to be serious and your contagious laughs, it took you forty five minutes to find the color you had seen online a few months ago and had screenshotted on your phone.

You make your way over to an employee and ask for a gallon of the deep navy color, paying and making your way back into Harry’s car within a few minutes.

Your knee was bouncing in anticipation on your way home and you didn’t realize until Harry rested his palm on it, asking you, “What’s got you so nervous?” to which you reply:

“Not nervous, just excited.”

Harry chuckled and kept his hand there for the rest of the ride to your house, which you found to be far too close then you wanted it to be.

You both found yourselves in your garage loading your arms with painters tape and tarp to ensure your room is painted to perfection and not too messy afterwards.

You spilled some paint into the tray and used a roller to begin putting the fresh paint on the middle of the wall. Harry gasps when he sees the color in contrast with the wood that covered every other wall in the room, “It matches so well,” he comments, using a smaller brush to begin on the bottom strip of the wall where the painters tape stuck.

He sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, and you stood a few feet to his left, the paint sitting between the two of you.

You nod, “I know, it compliments the wood really well.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not the wood. I meant it matches my eyes,” he draws out.

You roll your eyes and let out a shut up before looking at him.

“Seriously,” he persists, setting his head next to the gallon that sat on the floor.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded slowly, dipping your roller back onto the tray, allowing the residue to fall off before you rolled a bit on his face and shirt.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up immediately.

“I had to check!” you exclaim innocently. “You know, now that I look, I think you’re right. It does match, we should use more,” you conclude.

“Now that I look,” Harry starts, with an evil glint in his eye, “I think this is the color your shirt is missing,” he concludes, flinging his brush in your direction allowing the paint to fall on your face and shirt.

“Oh my god!” you shout as Harry doubles over in laughter.

You bring your brush into the paint once more, taking a threatening step towards Harry. He flinches, making you chuckle and redirect the paint onto the wall again, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

He begins again on the bottom edge and before you could think you're safe, Harry gets paint on your ankle from where he sat on the floor.

You let out a loud gasp, “This is war!” you exclaim.

“Or you can just admit that you needed a break,” Harry shrugs, “It’s quite simple.”

You narrow your eyes and look at him, “I am going to cover you in paint. It’s quite simple,” you mock him childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh before painting the rest of your ankle, making a ring around your foot.

It had taken two hours to complete painting the wall and to complete your paint war. You and Harry found yourselves in your backyard while your sprinklers were spraying the grass.

“Best way to clean,” Harry breathed out.

“You say you’re one with nature but what are you going to say when my grass is blue?” you ask him as you scrub at your legs to get off the paint.

“I’ll say part of me is really with nature this time,” he says shaking the water out of his hair as he walks towards the hose that was attached to the side of your house.

You shake your head in disbelief, “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say, looking at Harry as he walks towards you with the hose gushing water out.

You step towards him and let him spray you down and you watch as the paint falls off your skin and into the grass, your shirt clinging to your body.

Harry tries to keep his attention on your face and not on the black bra that begins to show from your wet shirt that stuck to your body like a second skin.

You fiddled with the fit of your shirt, trying to make sure you were comfortable, before scrubbing your arms and legs clean.

Harry and you had decided after the first hit that you would do your best to avoid each other's faces just to make everything easier when it came to cleaning.

You rinse your hair fully before deciding you're as clean as you’d get without using a proper shower (which you didn’t want to turn blue from the paint), so you stepped towards Harry with your arm extended towards him.

“My turn,” Harry says softly, handing you the hose before spreading his arms out and letting the water hit his entire body, “This feels nice,” he comments.

“You’re crazy,” you reply. Harry shakes his head and takes his shirt off in an attempt to get everything off and you almost look away instinctively- you weren’t supposed to see your friend like this.

He allows the pressure of the hose to get most of the paint off his body but he seems a bit carefree about the cleanliness of his body at this point- you’re assuming this is the distraction you both needed from your mundane lives.

Harry finishes off with the hose and you run inside to grab the two of you towels, opting to stay outside for the rest of the night.

You both sit outside on the back porch swing that sat in your yard, wrapped in towels so you don’t get too cold in the autumn air. “You were right,” you mutter, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“About?” Harry edges you on and you can practically hear him smiling through his words.

“I needed a break.”

What felt like a year was only two months and in those two months you had accomplished what you had been attempting since eighteen. You finished what seemed to be the perfect piece from a technical standpoint.

It told a story of betrayal and heartbreak and it included a plethora of twists in tone and changes in tempo and unresolved keys to add edge and lead the listener on. The piece, in theory, was among the most perfect ones written.

At least that's what Harry told you and that's what you tried to tell yourself.

You had just finished the process of getting it all recorded, recruiting some of your friends from the orchestra to take home your manuscript that you wrote in harmonies and new melodies to.

You spent a week editing the music together, sending recordings back, asking for retakes, and adjusting volumes, tempos, and tone before you were satisfied with the music.

All in all, it was a musically complex and fundamentally difficult piece that could be extended into a show or turned into a series of simpler solos- whatever would get your music sold to a publisher, you were willing to do.

You had contacts from your previous attempts at selling your compositions, contacts that rejected you but told you to come back if you had something new. You did not take the suggestion lightly.

You had mastered an email with your pitch- stating your name and your credentials, attaching a file of the piece, along with the score which separated individual parts and showed their dynamic together. It was your life's work and a story you were excited to sell, and that is why you were particularly excited when you received an email back the following week.

The email, in short, explained that a publisher would like to meet with you and is interested in helping you publish the music and help you get on the radar of a symphonic orchestra.

You were a giddy mess leading up to your meeting, your leg shaking in anticipation and your heart beating so loud you swear you could feel it in your throat. So, when it arrived it felt surreal.

You stepped into the tall building in a haze, your hands clutching onto your score and your body clad in your favorite orchestral dress that you find to be the one you wear to the majority of your auditions. You call it your good luck charm.

The receptionist was short and directed you to the fifth floor and gave you strict instructions to wait to be called in by Flynn Bradford’s assistant. You sat in the waiting room with a warm overcoat covering your body in the meantime.

When you got called up your hands began to sweat. You find your way into Bradford’s office and with a nervous step forward, you take your jacket off and sit down on the small chair before his desk.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself with a handshake, Bradford immediately recognizing your name.

“Flynn Bradford, a pleasure,” he returns with a friendly smile.

He was a middle aged man with a few silver hairs peeking through, but he wore a friendly smile and seemed very composed nonetheless. He took your score and opened it immediately. He looked over it in silence for a few moments, you sitting on the edge of your seat.

“I do have to say, Ms. Y/L/N, I was waiting to meet you so I could go over this with you. I think you’re a brilliant composer,” he speaks slowly.

You swallow harshly, “Thank you so much,” you gush, “I’ve been at it since I was a kid so I’m glad you liked it.”

He nods again, sifting through the pages, “And I have to say I’m impressed by the tone in the demo and the overall markup of the piece. I think there are a few minor changes that we’d like to see done but all in all I think it’s good.”

You nod your head quickly, “Of course and I was expecting to do so. I- uh- how many changes are we thinking about here?”

“Well it’s still your piece, so quite minor ones just to increase your chances of having it sold to a school or a symphony. Or, you could keep it how it is but that might not be the easiest to sell.”

“Right, so hypothetically, if I get all the changes done and we’re satisfied within a few weeks, it can go off to you?” you ask in shock.

“It seems to be that way, yes. I’ll send you a contract and some markups once I get to talk with my team about this. It would be best to get your own lawyer to look over this for copyright purposes and to make sure you’re alright with all the fine print,” he advises.

“Yes, I will definitely do that, yeah. Thank you so much,” you reiterate.

He hums a reply and hands you back your score with a tight lipped smile, “So this meeting was a bit quicker and the other might be too depending on what you like and want. Remember all the corrections we send are suggestions so you do what you want and we’ll be alright with whatever you choose to do,” he reminds you.

You nod and shake his hand once more, leaving the building with bright eyes and a winning score in your hands.

The first instinct you had as you sat back into your car was to call Harry but you were so overwhelmed with excitement you decided that going to see him at his house would be a better idea.

After all, he deserved to be the first person to know because he helped you so much when it came to the composition of this piece.

You were smiling incredibly wide as you made your way over to his townhouse in the city. His complex was very modern, a clear juxtaposition to your victorian styled home, but you welcomed it warmly. You enjoyed the prospect of having a place to go that is more minimal in comparison to your cluttered property.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before you parked outside of his home, your car finding its normal spot in the driveway of his garage.

Your legs carried you faster than you could have imagined, rushing you to the front of his house and your hand pounded against his door with a sense of urgency.

Harry took his time making his way downstairs, a towel around his waist and an impatient girl he had hardly met waited in his bed upstairs.

He opened his door slightly, allowing his head to peek out of the small crack he created, “Hey!” he exclaimed when he realized it was you.

“Hi! Can I come in?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m not exactly decent,” his hand scratches the back of his neck, “Can you wait down here as I get some clothes on?”

“Sure, take your time,” you nod in understanding, allowing Harry to make his way back upstairs.

“Who’s at the door?” the girl asks from her spot on his bed as Harry changes quickly into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“Just a friend, she should be gone soon,” he replies.

“You sure? She seemed really excited to see you.”

Harry lets out a sigh, “Logan, I promise she's just a friend. And what does it matter anyway?”

“Well I don't want to be the other woman,” she pouts, “But if you say she’s just a friend then I believe you.”

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder briefly as he made his way back downstairs to where you were waiting on his sofa.

“So whats up?” he asks, “Want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. I have some news, though,” you say, enthusiasm raising once again.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Harry joins you on the sofa.

“So I met with Flynn Bradford today,” you lead on, hoping Harry could understand what the news was.

“No way,” he exclaimed after a moment of silence. “He picked you up? That’s amazing holy shit! Congrats!”

“Thanks! You helped so much, I thought you had to be the first to know. And on Wednesday you can help me decide what corrections to add, too. This is all so exciting! It’s happening so fast!” you ramble quickly, standing up and pulling Harry into a hug.

“No you did that all on your own! I knew they’d pick you up, too. So fucking talented,” he mumbles, returning your embrace.

“Thank you oh my goodness! Okay, I just wanted to come over quick to tell you that. I have to work on some audition music so I’ll head out in a few,” you say.

Harry opens his mouth to reply when you both hear his bedroom door open. Harry’s eyes widened in realization and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Harry?” you hear an unrecognizable voice, “You done?”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes as you start to realize what was happening. He was with someone. He found someone and it wasn’t you.

She walks down the stairs and your head immediately turns in the direction of the girl. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your tears in the ducts of your eyes as you see her in a t-shirt you know Harry absolutely loves.

“Hey, uh Logan. This is Y/N,” he trails off lightly, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” you smile falsely and extend your hand for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Logan. You’re Harry’s friend?” she presumes, looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close,” you pause, “Sorry, I didn’t know H was seeing anyone. This was kind of unexpected.”

“Oh that’s alright, I was going to leave soon anyway. Have to meet some friends for dinner,” she shrugged carelessly.

“No, no, you can stay. I feel bad. I can be out in a few minutes,” you tell her with a soft smile.

She looked at you and Harry intervened before she could get a word out, “That’s alright, you can both stay if you want?” he suggested.

“I really do have to go,” Logan trailed off.

Harry quickly jumped at this, “Oh! Sorry, love. Yeah, go ahead, don’t mean to keep you here if you need to be somewhere.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff,” she smiles at the two of you and heads back upstairs to where you assume she was staying in Harry’s bedroom.

You and Harry stand in silence for a moment, “Sorry I should’ve asked to come over. I’ll go, you can spend some time with her before she leaves,” you finally stammer with a slightly wavering voice.

“No!” Harry exclaims a bit too loudly, making you flinch at his tone. “You can stay,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, I have to practice anyway,” you say in a rush, leaving his house at once without looking back at him.

It was two days later when Logan showed up at Harry’s house with a soft smile on her face and her eyes filled with lust.

Not only two minutes after Harry opened the door, his lips were on hers and they were making their ways upstairs to his bedroom. Logan had come to Harry’s for a quick fuck and Harry was there to provide.

It had taken them a few weeks to get into a flow and get a general idea of each others bodys and needs and now that they were getting good sex, they didn’t take many moments to stop and catch their breath.

There were a few moments, though where Logan knew she fell short of your company. She could tell with a quick glance at Harry that he was a lovesick puppy when it came to you and it became more and more apparent the more time they spent together.

When they weren’t fucking, he spent most of his free time talking about you. The girl of his dreams and the funniest, prettiest, nicest, person he’s ever met.

She had her hands in his hair and he had his hands tugging on her waist when his phone began buzzing from his bedside table.

Logan sat up from where she laid, straddling Harry’s lap. He let out a soft groan and ran and hand through his hair as he checked who had called him.

His lips fell into an effortless smile as he answered your call, leaving Logan breathless and unfulfilled. She resulted in getting up from his bed and walking out of his house once she realized it was you he was talking to.

That following Monday, you watched as Harry made his way into your home, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the two of you as you sat on your sofa.

“How was your date with Logan?” you ask eventually.

“Oh, it was- it wasn’t a date,” Harry tried to describe, leaving you confused. Harry wasn’t one for casual hookups.

“Then what was it?” you ask timidly, hoping for an answer you can understand.

“Just meeting an old friend from college,” he coughs.

“A friend?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, uh, a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” you let out softly, “Why’d you get back with her?” you ask.

“I don’t think the girl I like likes me back, so I wanted a distraction” he replies vaguely, turning on your TV in search of a new film to watch on Netflix.

You swallow the lump in your throat before replying, “I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Harry looks at you for the first time that day, “Well she doesn’t act like it at all, so I think I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” you shrug, “What is there to lose?”

“A person who I value a lot in my life,” he replies almost instantly.

You didn’t reply after that, allowing the film Harry chose in a haze to begin and you sink further into the sofa.

It had been an eventful week. You had sent back your manuscript twice between today and your original week and yesterday you had auditioned for the live orchestra for the annual Nutcracker production.

This had been your fifth year playing in it- you were very confident in your ability to get a spot in the orchestra- but it was the solo that brought you grief. Every year, each section had a competitive fight between musicians for the solos that are littered through the production.

You found that the busy week that had followed you around became the main reason you were able to get your mind off Harry. No matter what you did he meandered his way into your thoughts and you were beginning to feel pathetic that your mood relied on him.

It was when you came home from auditions on Tuesday evening when you got a phone call from Harry. You hesitantly picked up the phone and allowed him to speak first.

“Y/N? You there? Can you talk for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah, what’s up,” you reply.

“I need your advice. I think Logan wants to start seeing someone but she won’t admit it to me so I don’t know what I should do because I don’t want her to hold back on it just because of me,” he pushes quickly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Well why wouldn’t she admit she wants to see someone? She probably likes you, H, don’t worry. She’ll talk to you if she likes someone else.”

You heard a heavy sigh come from Harry’s end of the line as you picked up all your belongings from your car, your phone sitting between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, I just- I don’t think she wants to tell me for some reason.”

What you didn’t know was that Harry was trying to prolong this call in an attempt to see if you would tell him to cut it off with Logan. It had only been a few weeks, and to be fair he hadn’t hooked up with her more then three times.

He knew he loved you but he needed confirmation that you liked him back. Logan insisted that you did but he didn’t trust her judgement as much as he trusted his own.

As you learned through numerous conversations with Harry, he is a charming man, but he is also a confusing one. He isn’t direct and he seems to beat around the bush when it comes to serious things in his life.

“Okay,” you say, confused, “Well just tell her that if she can’t be honest then she’s never going to be able to break it off with you. And if she says the same thing and you still don’t believe her just cut it off,” you advise selfishly.

You wanted to help Harry, you truly did, but you were also a human. You were selfish and needy and you wanted Harry to yourself. So, you did what a selfish, and jealous, girl would do and you hinted at breaking it off.

“Thanks,” he let out a huff of air, “Sorry, I have to sort some stuff out and I’m really stressed so I wanted your opinion about this,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright. Let me know how it goes, yeah? I gotta run some errands but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you confirm.

Harry hums in agreement and you hang up first, leaving him with the dial tone on his phone.

The first thing you do when you get in your office is check your email. You were waiting on a reply from Bradford- you had just sent in another round of corrections and asked him for minor technical critiques to finish off the piece. You were proud of where it was and you were thoroughly in love with it.

Just as you opened your laptop, you saw the taunting icon saying you have an unread email. You attempted to calm your nerves before opening it, preparing yourself for almost all senders.

But calming your nerves turned into a loud scream. Bradford had replied and informed you that he loved the piece and accepts it as your final draft. He also mentioned that he will fax over the legal documents to look over before meeting with him officially and signing all the necessary contracts.

Just as he said, later that night you received a thick stack of papers to sift off to your parents to help you look over and make sure everything was alright for you to sign.

You bind all the pages together with a few paperclips and make a quick drive into the suburbs to give your parents the good news and ask them to help you find someone to look over all the papers for you.

Your parents weren’t the most enjoyable people to live with but they were great to see in moderation. It was a large showcase of love every time you or Monica came home- they cooked, cleaned, and helped with just about everything you asked.

So, when you arrived home, you got the full treatment. Your mom had cooked a nice dinner for you all and your dad helped you look over the contracts in their entirety as you waited for dinner to be served. You deemed the papers safe and the three of you decided you could sign on them as soon as possible and get all the proper licensing.

You were overjoyed on your drive home and the moment you arrived back, you sent Bradford a quick email from your phone saying you can meet anytime to sign and that you had looked over the contracts.

The following morning, you had gotten back a response stating he was free later that afternoon and you took him up on his offer to sign on the fine Wednesday.

You met him back at his office, similar to the first time, and you had brought all the papers he had sent you, giving him a solid rundown of what you were expecting and negotiating royalties.

You had taken half an hour to settle on a final deal and Bradford had gotten the contracts readjusted for you to sign.

It was nerve wracking but exciting to be holding the pen in your hand and you signed page after page, ensuring your music could be sold and would be given proper care and proper copyright laws.

“Last one right here, Y/N,” Bradford encouraged you. Your wrist grew tired but you refused to complain considering how much you wanted this and how long you waited.

“Okay,” you grunted, signing your name sloppily and allowing Bradford to pull all the papers out from under your hold.

“So, what this all ensures from our relationship standpoint is that we are the primary distributor and we will be helping with copyright and making sure you get your money's worth,” he briefs with a chuckle. He straightens out the stack and stands up with a smile on his face.

You follow in suit and stand up at the desk, straightening out your pants, “Thank you so much,” you gush.

“Thank you for thinking to work with us,” Bradford countered, making you shake your head.

“Of course,” you say kindly, “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me these past few weeks. Been a huge help.”

“Oh it was our pleasure, Y/N. You're a wonderful artist. I think we all enjoyed working with your piece.”

You shake Bradfords hand and exchange pleasantries as you exit his office with a smile on your face.

It was the rush of relief that went through your body that helped you realize the gravity of what just happened. Your music has been sold and now has the opportunity to be in music shops, orchestras, and played all across the globe. And that was a great feeling.

It was indescribable, to say the least. It had taken over a year to compose the piece and you had multiple failed attempts prior to this one. The piece you named Domicile was quite literally a love letter to your life.

The piece went through the ups and downs of love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love. It was all encompassed in the piece you titled home.

Written from the back of your mind, you had no idea how to articulate how proud of yourself you were. It was self expression and it was beautiful.

Later that evening, Harry arrived at your home as he usually did. He held a small calculator and his laptop in his arm as he abandoned his car in your driveway and made his way up to your door.

He knocked before opening it, knowing you always forget to lock it when you came home from work, and he followed the noise of soft jazz down the hall and into your office.

The paint smell had finally vanished the room and he found you sitting comfortably on the floor with your legs folded beneath you. “Hey, how was your day?” He asks, walking in and sitting across from you on the floor.

“Really fucking good,” you grin, making eye contact with him.

“Care to explain?” he asks with wide eyes and an encouraging smile.

“Yes,” you say dramatically, “I, Y/N Y/L/N, am officially,” you pause for effect.

“Oh come on,” Harry groans in anticipation.

“I am officially a signed artist,” you squeal in excitement.

“No fucking way,” he says softly, “No fucking way!” he yells. “I knew you would oh my goodness! This is amazing! We have to celebrate-” he rambles on.

“Harry!” you exclaim with a giggle, “No need to celebrate this is enough!” you assure.

“No, no, no,” Harry says, “We gotta do something. Even if it’s just a dinner with Mon and I. We gotta.”

“No,” you reiterate firmly.

“Fine,” Harry says, “But you’re coming with me,” he says standing up. He extends his hand out and helps you stand before leading you to your living room.

He gently tugs your arm towards him and he presses his chest up against yours. “Play it on the speaker, love,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling back and using your phone to play the symphony over your speaker system per Harry’s request.

Harry smiled at you and gently put his hand up to yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you tightly. “Dance with me?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“Of course, sir,” you tease, stepping into his hold, his arms wrapping around your waist and your hands draped over his shoulders lightly.

“I’m really proud of you,” he whispers, swaying back and forth.

“Thank you so much,” you hum, “Seriously, you helped with so much of it. I really appreciate it.”

Harry ducked his head in a bashful manner, unsure of how to reply to your high praise, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

You shake your head, looking out the window next to you two. The sun was setting and the sky was a painting of oranges and pinks, “God, Harry.”

“What,” he chuckles, following your gaze.

“I cannot believe you’re real,” you whisper, you hand moving to meet his jaw. You graze your thumb over his skin in utter disbelief.

“Harry?” you call out softly. He was zoned out, staring at your profile.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe out timidly. You don’t know where exactly you got all the courage that consumed your body at that current moment, but you were thankful for it.

Harry swallowed thickly before his eyes met yours, “Yes please,” he whispers back at you.

Your hand that rested on his jaw caressed the skin for a moment before you leaned into his warmth. Your lips met his lightly, you pulling away too quickly for his liking. Harry looked at you once more before leaning forward and allowing his lips to meet yours heavily.

You smile into his mouth, absolute joy coursing through your veins as he kissed you so carefully but so harshly. Your bodies stilled into the kiss, your mouths moving in sync slowly, absorbing every inch of each other.

Harry lets out a small groan as you grind slowly against him, his head threatening to roll back if it weren’t for your hand holding his head still.

His hands moved along your back comfortingly making your body melt into his expertly. You pull away again, Harry looking at you with dimmed eyes, you completely out of breath, “Songs over,” you whisper.

“So restart it,” he replies with a small grin.

Harry ended up seeing the full performance of Midsummer the last night it was performed at the theater. He apologized profusely and insisted he’d see the last of the show if it was the last thing he did, so you let him come and sit right in the front as he wished.

Just as the first time, he sent you smiles of luck before your solo and a few more afterwards to show he was proud of you. Just as you anticipated, he is the best person to cheer you on during a performance.

You knew Harry would be waiting for you in the lobby, so you held off on putting your overcoat on and allowed yourself to step out of the backstage area with your black dress and short heels, your clarinet and jacket in hand.

He held his arm out for you once you became close enough for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and you walked into his hold, “I got something for you,” he tells you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you ask with a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Harry smiles at you before handing you the flowers that sat in his other hand. It was an assortment of long stem red roses, what he read to be the traditional rose to give after a performance.

“Thank you,” you whisper in awe, your eyes meeting his as he looks at you.

Harry hums in response and tugs you closer to his body before leaving a quick peck on your lips and pulling away just as fast as he approached you.

You and Harry were confused to say the least. You had both confirmed you liked each other the night you got signed but you found it difficult for the two of you to label what was going on. Harry wanted it to be exclusive and you wanted to give it a trial run to see how it would work. And though you did give it a trial run, the two of you were yet to discuss what was going on.

You assumed this would be like any other relationship you had been in- after a few months and a handful of dates, you’d consider yourselves partners- but this was vastly different. You have known Harry for a few years now and he has always been a part of your life. So what counted as a date and what was as normal?

Well, tonight constituted a date. Harry had told you before he arrived that he would be taking you out for a nice dinner after your show and to be ready for the best night of your life. You rolled your eyes at his antics and humored him by showing him the outfit you had picked out- the dress you found yourself wearing every Sunday- and a different jacket then you usually wore- this one more flattering for the body.

Harry nodded in approval at this and made his way to the theater, you asking one of your friends to give you a ride so you could go home with Harry later that night.

Now you sat in Harry’s car with his hand resting on your knee, your hand covering his as he drives you both to dinner. He was clad in the same suit he wore the first time he saw you and it subtly matched the black dress and white coat with pleats that you wore next to him.

Harry informed you when you got in the car that he would be taking you to his favorite (fancy) steakhouse in the next city over. Before you could protest her told you it was in celebration of your final performance and being signed, therefore your protests would only further encourage him.

“Will these flowers be alright sitting in the car during dinner?” you ask him.

“Not sure,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “I’ll get you new ones if they aren’t.”

“No!” you’re quick to stop him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what if I want to? You gonna stop me from fulfilling my inner desires?” he asks you teasingly.

You roll your eyes at him and look out the window. The soft sounds of Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac fill the silence as Harry exits the highway and turns into the parking lot of Del Friscos, the steakhouse.

Harry exits the car first, rushing to your door so he can open the door for you. You smile at him as you step out of the car and walk in the building hand in hand.

The restaurant was dimly lit and had high, round booths around the perimeter of the room, tables with pristine white tablecloths among the center. Harry met the host with a small smile and a, “Styles, party of two,” before being led to a corner booth with you in toe.

You smile at Harry as you slide into the booth, your hands making their way to the hem of your dress and tugging on it, “This place is really nice,” you comment your voice laced with insecurity.

“Yup, that’s why we look really nice,” Harry reminds you.

“I feel like this is normal,” you chuckle, “I wear this every Sunday.”

“My girl looks this nice every Sunday and I never knew? Might have to make a pit stop Sunday nights too,” Harry compliments.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “I’d be alright with that.”

Harry smiles at you as a waitress comes over and asks what drinks you’d like.

The dinner was filling and well-made, you found yourself laughing harder than you ever had and eating the best food you’ve had in awhile.

Harry held your hand as you left the steakhouse and he opened the passenger seat door for you, rushing to the other side to turn the heater on for you, “One more stop before I bring ya home,” Harry tells you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Alright, where?”

“Oh, Y/N, you should know by now that if I don’t tell you it’s a secret!”

“Well it was worth a try,” you shoot him a smile, your hand finding its place in his.

Harry hums in agreement, “Just know if I want you to know, you’ll know.”

You let out a laugh at his stubbornness, “Alright sir,” you say in a posh accent.

Harry lets out an exaggerated hey before saying, “That’s what I sound like when I talk to my boss.

You burst out in laughter and Harry goes on to tell you an embarrassing story from the first time he met his boss.

When Harry’s car reverses into a spot, your eyes shoot up in surprise at your arrival at the hardly-built riverwalk in your town. It was a new location and half the restaurants were still in the process of being built but it was still a nice place to go.

You catch the door before Harry can, you send him a smug smile and take his hand as he tugs you gently towards the ice cream shop he seemed to be eyeing.

The location was dimly lit with blue tinted lights and a few wall sconces that gave a warm orange glow.

“How did you know I wanted to come here?” you asked him finally, coming to a stop and stepping inside the building.

“It’s just about the only thing you’ve talked about for about two months,” Harry teased you with an accusatory finger.

Your lips curve upwards as you exhale a laugh, “Okay, you got me there.”

Harry smirks at you as you look at the menu before you, stepping up to the teen worker who looked far too tired to be awake, “Can I get a scoop of chocolate? And he’ll have,” you point at Harry.

“Uh- I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with graham crumbs please,” Harry gives the worker a cheeky grin and wraps his arm around your waist as you wait for your cones.

You smile in thanks as Harry pays, heading out of the building almost immediately to be met with a gust of wind and a lit up river beside you.

Harry stays by your side as you both walk in silence taking in the scenery, eating your ice cream peacefully. It was a really nice way to spend your evening and you found yourselves enjoying each other's presence more than each other's conversation.

“Okay,” you swallow the last bit of your ice cream, “What’s your dream travel destination?” you ask.

Harry's eyebrows raise in amusement, “What, did you look up first date questions?”

You stifle out a laugh, “Maybe, I didn’t know if it would be awkward.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated, “Ha!” before redirecting you back in the direction of his car, “That’s cute that you care so much.”

“What and you don’t care?” you tease.

“I care just not enough to google first day questions,” he pokes your side playfully.

You laugh out a “Fine!” and redirect the conversation to your performance from earlier that night.

It was a full week apart from Harry and you were excited to reunite with him. Your week had been full with auditions for different parts in the Nutcracker every day so you found yourself unavailable to spend your Monday and Wednesday with Harry, having little to no time to yourself.

Now, the following Sunday, the only thing between Harry and yourself was your front door.

Harry was officially invited to your orchestra’s gala in celebration of completing Midsummer. You both had decided that Harry would arrive promptly two hours before you needed leave and you two would get ready together.

He was lying down on your bed as you leaned over your bathroom counter in an attempt to perfect your eyeliner, “Don’t know why you bother with that,” you hear him grumble.

You let out a chuckle and stood back to decide if it was even enough, “Me neither it’s too fucking hard.”

Harry lets out a snort, “That's what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at him through your mirror, “You sure you’re not fifteen?”

Harry smiles, “You sure The Office is only for fifteen year olds?” he shoots back.

Your face matches his and you lean into the mirror once more to perfect your eyeliner before moving to your closet to change into your dress for the night, prompting Harry to begin getting into his suit as well.

Today, for the nicer event, you wore a nude dress with navy accents towards the bottom and a leg slit Harry thought made you look absolutely ravishing. And, in perfect coordination, Harry wore a navy suit with a white half-buttoned shirt underneath and his favorite red boots that reminded him of an old western movie you’d watched a few months back.

He held your hand as you stepped out of your closet and let out a dramatic “Oh damn!” at first sight before spinning you around so he can get a full idea of your outfit.

You fall into a fit of giggles and collapse into his hold and he sways back and forth, “I really like you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you reply with a grin, “I like you a lot back.”

“Well how lucky am I?”

“So damn lucky,” you tell him as you let out a silent giggle, “Come on, let's head out.”

The drive to the theater seemed all too short for the both of you. You were sitting in a comfortable silence enjoying each other's company on the way there, stealing a few kisses at a red light or a longing glance while Harry was concentrating on changing lanes during rush hour.

When you arrived at the hotel the gala was held at, you both found your way inside and to the tables that were set up with your names on small place cards. You both sat there in soft chatter as you awaited the arrival of your friends who were to sit at the same table.

Eventually, you were met with a crowd of people around your table and your voices raised in volume and excitement. It was merely 8:00 when your ears were greeted by the sound of a disconnected microphone.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Jordan Pennington, the conductor of the Midsummer Night’s Dream orchestra performance and I’m here to recognize each performer for their outstanding work over the course of these past months,” his voice cut through the room like glass.

Jordan then went on to state each performer and his favorite memory with them through the course of the orchestral production.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jordan introduced, an image of you as a baby and you now making their way onto the screen behind him, “Y/N is a strong clarinetist we are blessed to have in our group. She works very hard in the theater and outside and has recently been signed as a composer so I’m hoping I’ll be conducting her work soon,” he paused as people congratulated you. You didn’t publicize your signing, so a lot of people were in shock and impressed.

“She’s been with us for a while so we have a few good memories with her at this theater but I think everybody's favorite is just about any time Y/N brings lunch,” he pauses as everyone starts laughing. You bury your face in your hands as Harry looks at you with a confused smile.

“When Y/N brings lunch she without fail trips on one of the steps and spills something,” Jordan informs. You let out an exaggerated groan, eliciting more laughter and Harry covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Can we move on?” you call out.

Jordan lets out a laugh and obliges, moving onto the next person on his list.

You glance at Harry who is taking a sip of wine and you raise your eyebrows at him, making him nearly spit out his drink, “Sorry, love,” he coughs out, bringing you in for a hug, “Just sounds so much like you it’s impossible,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes at him and continue to listen as Jordan goes through the rest of your orchestra.

When he finishes, your food is devoured and the middle of the room is opened to allow people to dance. You glance at Harry and take his hand, reminding him of the night you first kissed, “Come on,” you mutter.

He allows you to take him to the center of the room where some of your colleagues have begun to conglomerate and dance slowly to the tune of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud, you two joining in the mass.

Unlike last time, you knew exactly how to act, your arms immediately finding a home around his shoulders and pulling him close so your flesh is against his.

Harry smiled at this and squeezed you at the waist as a silent way of saying I love you, his head leaning in towards yours and your foreheads resting against each other.

“How is it that we always end up dancing?” he asks you.

“Not sure, I was never good at it either but here I am,” you chuckle a reply.

Harry’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, “There is no way you weren’t a good dancer.”

“Swear on it,” you say, your lips tugging upwards to make a smile.

“No. I refuse to believe that, you’re so good,” he says, his eyes shooting down to your feet and then back up to your eyes making you giggle.

“Nope,” you say confidently, “Just found you and you were good. By association I’m good.”

“So what you’re saying is you found the right partner?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You fall into a full belly laugh at his antics before agreeing, “I found the right partner.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years

Text

A Road To Somewhere.

For prompt: road trip

Hypnos/male!reader

Thanatos/Zagreus/Meg in the background.

5.7k total, link to part two at the end.

Warnings: some sexual stuff are talked about but the most that happens is kissing and cuddling. Jokes about cannibalism as well. Alcohol uses. No beta.

Summary: Why talk about your feelings with your childhood best friend when you can just go on a road trip?

A/N: sorry for going silent, I was dealing with some medical issues on top of helping my partner with stuff.

To the Anon who requested this, I'm sorry about the wait, I hope you like this and feel free to always hit me for another request!

At three in the morning, your phone rang.

You groaned as you rolled across your bed. and you squinted at the brightness of your phone.

Hypnos' photo flashed on the screen, the one where he stole your letterman jacket to nap in on the school bus that Zagreus had sent it to you. And if you kept the photo five years after high school, well that is your business and nobody else's.

You hesitated, not sure you want to talk to him right now. After that night, the only thing you and Hypnos traded was polite, almost cold texts. not your usual meme or lazy chatting about whatever. But something about the picture of Hypnos' sleeping face pushed you to respond.

You swiped the green button.

"You are coming with me." Hypnos said, or rather slurred.

You covered your face,"Hypnos, dude. Are you drunk right now?"

"You- you said you have never seen the ocean right?" Hypnos asked, ignoring your question.

"Where are you? I am coming to get you." You turned on your lamp, looking for a pair of jeans to wear.

"No- no." Hypnos said firmly and very drunkenly. "Y/N, dude. I'm fine. I'm at my shitty apartment." Hypnos paused, "You know, the one where my brother hooked up with Meg. And Zagreus. At the same time. Which is really effing weird for me."

"I - Hypnos-" you tried to think of what to say. The said incident happened over a little month ago and Hypnos had the misfortune of walking in at the wrong time. Which of course because Hypnos got his heart broken by Meg lead up to Hypnos trying to hook up with you to get over her.

"Look, you always said you wanted to see the ocean right?" Hypnos yawned, which you took as a good sign. Hopefully it means your dumb best friend will pass out soon and not ruin his liver for rest of the day.

"Yeah, what of it?" You asked, frustrated at Hypnos for doing this to himself and to you.

"Road trip!" Hypnos dragged out the words with a laugh. "I will be picking you up tomorrow. Love you bestie."

"Hypnos wait no, we can't just leave." You said. You waited for a response, "Hypnos?" You asked worriedly.

A snore came through the phone and you sighed. You turned off the lamp and laid back down, listening to Hypnos' deep breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, and tried not to think about the last time Hypnos got this drunk. Or about that night or how Hypnos acted like nothing happened the next day.

You rolled over to face your phone and closed your eyes.

You will just stay on the line in case Hypnos wakes up.

💤

"You can't be serious, Hypnos." You said as he went through your clothes, uncaring of any boundaries you may have.

But honestly with Hypnos, you had long lost any boundaries. You knew you should actually try to enforce some but you craved just being near him.

"I am! I need to get away for a bit and you told me you were taking a week off right? And it starts today or last night technically." Hypnos held up a lime green shirt and made a face at it.

"Yes for a staycation, I don't have extra money for a motel or anything like that." You replied, and took the shirt away to place it back on its hanger.

"It's my treat, Y/N." Hypnos leaned on you, his head on your shoulder. You tried not to notice how warm he was against you or his big golden puppy dog eyes. "Come on, a free trip away with your best friend aka me aka the best thing ever with your favorite person ever-" Hypnos rambled.

"Fine, only because you said you will pay for everything." You sighed, You hated how hard it was to say no to him.

Hypnos cheered and pulled you into a bear hug. You savored the warmth despite not wanting to.

You just needed a vacation too. To clear your head. And who knows, you and Hypnos could finally get back to being normal.

💤

Hypnos was in the driver's seat as you closed the truck and joined him in the car. A pen dangled from his teeth as his golden eyes flicked across the map. He glanced at you as you strapped in.

"It will be a two days drive if we only stop when we need to. That gives us three days at the beach or wherever else we end up doing." Hypnos took the pen out and marked a couple spots on the map.

"Couldn't we just use our phone GPS?" You asked.

"Nope, the place I'm taking you isn't a normal public beach and we have to drive through some mountains and mountains always win over gps." Hypnos pointed the pen at you. "Always." He said in a mock doom voice.

You rolled your eyes, and with a finger pushed the pen out your face. "Alright but if we get lost in the mountains. I call first dibs on eating you."

"Ha, jokes on you, bestie. I got almost no tender fat on me. So enjoy gnawing on my worthless bones." Hypnos crackled as he started the car. He tossed the map in your lab and peeled out of the driveway.

His deft fingers quickly found some music as Tom Petty sang through the radio.

Hypnos sang along badly. You covered up your smile, it feel good just near him again even if you didn't want to admit it.

Within minutes, Hypnos had weaved into the midmorning traffic. But even with the traffic, you already feel a little lighter.

💤

The first day of the drive went surprisingly well, even with traffic for the first hour. The skies were a vivid blue with fat, lazy clouds that casted shadows across the land.

Hypnos had the windows rolled down, one arm out of the window and music blasting. His shades should have made him look like a frat boy but you actually liked how they looked with his messy white curls and dark red shirt.

You kept your mouth shut and just watched the landscape change from suburbia to the fields dotted with cows and horses.

It was the most peace you had felt in a long while even with the elephant in between you and Hypnos.

It wasn't until twilight had followed you to the motel that the problems started.

"Is that a permanently closed sign?" Hypnos asked flatly, his shades resting on his head.

You nodded, "I had a feeling the trip started a little too well."

You and Hypnos both stared at the sign, the red and white words mocked you.

"I knew google was lying to me." Hypnos murmured.

"We can just sleep in the car, Hypnos." You followed him as he turned back. "We probably shouldn't drive anymore tonight."

Hypnos shook his head, "Nope, we would get murder so fast." He snapped his fingers to make his point. He threw an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the car. "Come on, I bet there's another place just up ahead."

"And if there is not?" You asked, noticing how easily you fit next to him.

"There will be." Hypnos said confidently.

At your doubtful look, he said cheerfully,

"Or we could just get murder in a much nicer area."

💤

It was almost an hour before you saw the faint vacancy light just peeking behind the trees.

You gasped, "There! Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I see it." Hypnos replied, perking up. The rundown motel looked like someone's idea of what an old western inn looked like without actually never seeing one before.

But after driving for an extra hour and half, it looked like heaven.

Hypnos pulled up in the first empty spot he found which was plenty of.

"Stay here, keep an eye on the car. Don't get murdered." Hypnos said as he locked the car up. He only looked back once as he entered the building.

You slumped in your seat, exhaustion overtaken you. Your phone buzzed in your hand, Zagreus's name popped up.

'Is Hypnos with you??'

You stared down at the text, why is Zagreus asking you?

'Yeah, why?' you replied.

Immediately, Zagreus responded.

'He hasn't responded to any of our texts or calls.'

In a separate text, 'Is he okay? I knew my talk with him was rough but I didn't expect this. '

You bit your lip, just realizing that you haven't heard Hypnos' phone go off all day. Normally, Hypnos' phone was glued in his hand and he was always constantly texting or playing a game.

You looked up, making sure Hypnos was still in the building.

You replied, 'I think he just needs a break. I will let you know if anything happens but maybe just give him some breathing room. Also what talk?'

Three dots appeared and disappeared a few times before Zagreus' response came.

'No, I know. We just wanted to make sure he wasn't alone. Thanks.'

You rubbed your face, unsure what to make of the texts and that Hypnos, a known phone addict, hasn't been on his phone all day. And that Zagreus didn't bother to tell you what 'talk' he had with Hypnos.

You looked back up and saw Hypnos walking back a grin on his face. When your eyes met his, he waved the roomcard and a plastic bag triumphantly.

You pushed your worries aside for now, Hypnos will talk to you when he is ready.

💤

"Uhh, dude. There is only one bed." You said blankly when Hypnos turned the lights on. All the room had was a single hotel bed and a little table with two chairs. The whole area looked like it never left the seventies.

"And a sofa." Hypnos pointed out as he flopped down on it. The sofa creaked loudly as if threatening to snap in half. "I can sleep on anything, remember?"

"If you are sure." You grabbed the plastic bag from the floor as you sat down on the bed.

You dumped the goods on the bed. There was a healthy mix of spicy ramen bowls, candy bars and cans of soda.

You picked out the one you knew Hypnos liked and set on making dinner.

The sofa kept creeking each time Hypnos twitched or even breath. Hypnos' eyes were close but there was a tension to his body that kept him looking truly relaxed.

You debated on telling him that Zagreus had reached out to you but the tight frown on his face kept you from saying anything.

The microwave gave a high pitch beep and you quickly pulled out the ramen and placed the hot bowl on the table. "Hey, Hypnos. Soup on." You told him as you got your bowl ready.

"Oh. Thanks. Wanna have a soda?" Hypnos asked.

You thanked him as you dug into your own dinner and honestly the cheap ramen was the best thing you tasted after not getting lunch during the drive.

Hypnos was unusually quiet during dinner and while getting ready for bed. You couldn't help noticing that Hypnos never once picked up his phone.

Hypnos yawned and sat on the sofa much more carefully yet the beast still creaked in warning.

You sighed, there was no way you or him would sleep with all that creaking.

"Hypnos, just come to bed. I think it's a queen so we got plenty of room." You told him as you got under the covers. You met his gaze, his eyes bright even with the dark circles under them.

"Okay." He agreed softly. He gave you a look that you ignored as he joined you. He turned off the lights. "Good night, Y/N."

You rolled on your side, back facing Hypnos. "Good night." You yawned widely, already halfway to sleep.

💤

You didn't quite wake up all the way, not at first. You blinked at the wall, small cracks in the blinds allowed for small rays of sunlight to break though. It made the motel room feel cozy even with the ugly decor.

There was an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders and you sank into its hold with a sigh.

Your eyes closed before your brain realized that you could feel another body pressed against your back, legs tangled together.

You snapped awake, your body went rigid and you heard Hypnos grumbled against your nape.

You relaxed, letting out a breath when you remembered Hypnos was in bed with you. Hypnos, during sleepovers when you were children, always ended up clinging on to you.

It was almost nice, a return to a simpler time. Almost.

It was a very different experience when you both were adults. You flushed when Hypnos pressed a little harder against your body, a pleased, sleepy hum rumbled in his chest.

You could feel him pressed against your lower back and damnit, your traitor of a body was responding. You squeezed your eyes shut, flushed from shame and want.

Your mind flashed back to the last time you allowed Hypnos this close.

You could still remember how he pushed you into his dark bedroom and kissed you again and again. How it felt being under him on his bed. How you almost let him have more.

And you knew you wouldn't survive if Hypnos acted just like he did the morning after.

With the small strength you were able to find, you pulled out of his hold or rather you tried to.

His arm went tight and kept you in the bed, "Where are you going so early?" His sleep rough voice mumbled against your skin.

You ignored the goosebumps he caused and you sighed annoyed. "Come on, you're being a jerk. I need to go get ready for the trip."

"Hmm, we drove more than we planned. We still have some time." Hypnos murmured, clearly going back to sleep. You grabbed the blanket with your free arm and yanked it off the both of you.

Hypnos yelped at the sudden cold and let you go. You darted out the bed and grinned at the scowl Hypnos had. You tossed the blanket over his face and walked away. "Early birds get the worm Hypnos!" You called out as you headed to the bathroom.

You bit back a laugh at the loud groan Hypnos made.

💤

After a quick stop for coffee and pancakes with bacon which Hypnos immediately drowned in syrup much to your disgust of the sheer amount of sugar, you were back on the road.

After an hour of staring out the window at patches of woods between the farmlands, you turned to look at Hypnos.

"What is it about this place that made you pick it? I looked at the map, we could get to the ocean quicker if we went along the other route. " You thought for a moment, "And you know, not to have to drive past the mountains."

"Yeah, if you want to see what everyone else sees and deal with the crowds." Hypnos scoffed. He pulled his shades down a bit to look at you, his windblown curls bounced with the movement.

You prayed he didn't notice your blush.

"Also my mom told me about this place a million times. Trust me, it is going to be worth the wait." And with that, Hypnos focused back on driving.

You turned back to the open window, silently hating yourself for still being attracted to him.

"Hey- is that a cow?" Hypnos asked, already slowing down. You looked down the road and saw the animal. You couldn't help the laugh that came out. "Yeah it is."

The stray cow stared down at the car. It was apparently unconcerned about being hit as it chewed on the grass in its mouth.

Hypnos pressed down on the horn repeatedly and long. The cow kept chewing on its bit of grass, blinking slowly.

"Dumb cow. It knows what it is doing." Hypnos muttered.

You laughed again, "I think that is an oxymoron."

Hypnos scowled and waved his hands at the cow whose tongue had found its nose.

"Well, what bright ideas do you have, Y/N?"

You looked into the bag of snacks down by the footrest. And pulled out a bag of barbecue chips.

"I'm going to lure it out of the road, first chance you get, drive past."

Hypnos pulled his shade down, an eyebrow crocked.

You shook the bag at his doubtful look.

Hypnos' eyes narrowed, eyes sharp and calculating. "That won't work."

"Oh?" You raised a brow. "And why not?"

"Those are barbecue chips, I'm pretty sure even that dumb thing know that smell. And when it smells the barbecue, it will just run you over enraged about the chips."

You leaned toward him, "Wanna make a bet?"

He matched your lean, a bright glint in his eyes. "Sure. If I win, you have to agree to everything I say until we get to the hotel."

"Fine." You agreed. "And if I get the cow out of the way, you can only speak in moos until we get to the hotel."

"Deal." He leaned back into his seat. "Easiest win ever."

You scoffed at him as you got out. "Gee, thanks for believing in me."

You stared down the cow who merely blinked at you.

Hypnos poked his head out the window, laughing "Hey Y/N, when it's moving, start running!"

You shushed him and crinkled the bag at the cow. It took a wary step forward and you opened the bag and it took a sniff.

The cow immediately tried to bite the bag but you took several steps and it followed you. You couldn't stop your smirk at Hypnos' outraged face. "Good cow." You cooed. "Good cow."

You took several steps back into the tall grass and dumped the chips on the ground.

The moment the cow started eating the chips on the ground, you took off like a shot and almost fell into your seat. You barely had a chance to close the door before Hypnos drove off.

You pulled your seatbelt on and waited, a huge grin on your face.

When Hypnos refused to say anything or even look at you, you poked him in his cheek.

"Hypnos." You called his name in a sing-songy tone. "I won the bet. Hypnos. Hypnos." You poked him with each word. There was an evil, childish part of you enjoying this too much.

Hypnos batted your hand away. "Moo fucking moo." He replied sourly.

You playfully frowned, "I don't think cows can say fucking."

"Oh my god."

"They don't say that either."

Part Two

#hades hypnos #hypnos x reader #hypnos x male!reader #requests

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jaeminzie · 3 years

Text

each time you fall in love | h.rj - teaser

↳ huang renjun x fem!reader

synopsis: the moments of what it seemed like the love you gave him is something renjun would never deem to forget. without it, he’s become the type of person he’s ridiculed in the past. though thanks to you, he’s learned that the past is the past and shit happens.

genre: angst, fluff, college au

teaser word count: 1,375 expected word count: 10-15k

warnings: cursing, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, one sex scene but no explicit smut (more to add later on)

playlist: ‘real games’ by lucky daye ☆ ‘each time you fall in love’ by cigarettes after sex ☆ (more to add later on)

a/n: a belated birthday fic for renjun :,] i’ve been waiting for the right time to write a long and angsty fic and i think now is the perfect time aaaa i’m so excited to write again ! for now, enjoy a little snippet ♡

i. each time you fall in love

renjun was confused as to why he was standing between sweaty bodies of frat boys when he could be laying down in his own clean sheets while binge watching a new show. but no, his best friend just had to quite literally physically drag him to this party. jaemin has been pestering renjun into accompanying him to a frat party so renjun can finally “get some.” while in reality, the only “some” renjun is in need of is a break, and attending a boring college party only to be pushed around by intoxicated, tall, and freakishly meaty boys isn't the break he was quite fond of.

the short boy has been on his tippy toes in an attempt to look for his friend who forced him here (apparently only to ditch him) in the sea of people. as his toes begin to cramp, renjun gives up and marches his way to the backyard. the wrinkles on his forehead begin to soothe as he feels the cold air relief his slightly sweaty forehead.

he observes the area around him — people out here were dancing more appropriately than those inside, the music was calmer too. he thinks the dimly lit backyard sets the mood well, complimenting the chill rnb music playing in the back. though, the calmness came to a halt when he heard the infamous loud voice of donghyuck calling his name from the side of the area.

renjun smiles at the him and jeno who was standing right beside donghyuck, feeling relieved that he will no longer look like a stupid loner since he’s found a few friends. as he came closer to them, the acrid smell of their cigarettes became more prevalent.

“didn’t take you as a party guy, injunie.” donghyuck nudges him with his shoulder as renjun finds place in between the two, resting his back against the fence.

“that’s because i’m not.”

jeno chuckles at his response, “so jaemin finally succeeded.” renjun huffs. “well, at least enjoy it now that you’re here.”

donghyuck made a noise of agreement. “and you guys consider smoking in the corner fun?” renjun eyes the boys, obviously joking with them but was also curious if they genuinely find pleasure in welcoming those toxins into their system.

“apparently you, a prude, think being a virgin is fun. but i guess we all have different definitions of fun, huh?” donghyuck teases before taking another hit, releasing the smoke and polluting the air.

renjun blinks repeatedly to moisten his burning eyes, “yeah, i expect that same attitude from you when you need an inhaler every five seconds. that’s the only thing you’ll ever hit then.”

jeno coughs out smoke as he laughs at the remark, “you’ve done pissed him off, hyuck. here — take a hit, it’ll feel better.” jeno places the cigarette in front of renjun’s face and winks at him.

renjun mockingly smiles at the taller boy before rolling his eyes and heartily laughing at the banter between him and his good friends.

the boy observes how the smoke leaves the tip of the cigarette to form patterns in the air, creating an infinite amount of stems and designs. like a camera lens, his focus on the killing object in front of him blurs and readjusts on a dancing figure directly behind the cigarette from afar.

jeno slowly drops his hand down as he sees his friend’s gaze shift to another hazardous object — a girl. specifically, you. “you know her?”

renjun thinks about his answer, because you guys don’t know each other personally nor have even talked to one another but he does know of you but he doesn’t want to sound like a creep. saving himself from more insults, he shakes his head. “maybe i should, though.”

not that he pays attention but he’s seen you at a couple of his classes last semester, but sadly none this semester. he remembers how you’d always come in late, but not too late. just late enough for everyone to stop what they’re doing and watch you walk down to your seat. or maybe that was just a natural effect of yours that you hold on people. i mean, renjun didn’t miss the way you put thought into your outfit for every class even if it was a boring lecture. hell, you could show up to class hungover and in pajamas (which you’ve done before a shameful amount of times) and still catch everyone’s attention.

renjun has a pair of functioning eyes so he is very aware of your charming looks. tonight was different, though. you danced confidently right in the center of the grass, with a drink in your hands that hasn’t spilled once thanks to your graceful mannerisms. with the fairy lights hitting your skin, making you glow underneath the dark sky, renjun thought you couldn’t get any prettier.

he was about to inform his friends that he’ll be getting a drink, but noticed that the two boys had already left his side. he cowered at the thought of him just standing there alone with nothing and no one to accompany him while he shamelessly stared at you. making the churning feeling in stomach worsen, your gaze meets his while you continue to dance to the sensual music.

you shot a smile first, renjun immediately gives you one back as he straightens his posture. renjun sees you giggle at his actions then whisper something in your friend’s ear, simultaneously handing your drink to her, to which she pushed you toward his direction and gently patted your bottom.

renjun wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol taking control or you were just this bold, strutting your way toward him — a boy who you don’t even know.

you halt your steps when you stand in front of him, getting a clear view of his pretty face. “you seem a bit lonely.”

renjun gulps, collecting his confidence. “just a bit.”

“want some company then?”

renjun smiles genuinely at your offer. “i would love that actually.” he stares at your features, admiring the dots on your face that would resemble star constellations if someone were to draw lines to connect them. “i’m renjun.” he was smart enough to wipe his hands discreetly behind him before putting them out.

“nice to meet you, renjun. i’m y/n.” you took his hand and shook it lightly. “i think i’ve seen you in one of my classes before? i might be wrong.” you tilt your head slightly. renjun almost melts at the sight.

he smiles before nodding, eyes shining. “yeah, i’m shocked you remember. i don’t usually talk during class.” he laughs. it seems that every time he smiles, your palms become sweatier and your neck’s temperature increases.

“don’t worry, pretty boys like you don’t need to do much to catch yourself some attention.”

renjun laughs nervously at the compliment, fiddling with the ends of his oversized jacket. “you're the one to talk but thank you.” his eyes twinkled as he spoke, the moonlight hitting the highest points of his face precisely. “you wanna go sit over there?” he points to the chairs near your standing figures. you nodded and began to walk your way toward the spot with renjun following suit.

renjun wasn’t sure how it happened. how the night turned from arguing with jaemin over a pointless party to now — not wanting to leave the damn place. how he was able to maintain a real conversation with you, not some excruciatingly boring small talk that neither party enjoys. he learned much about your character and questioned how much more perfect you can be. on the other hand, you learned that renjun makes pleasant company as he eased through the night talking to you about anything. he made any topic worth listening to if he was the one doing the talking.

as he drove home with a drunk jaemin snoring beside him in the passenger seat, he realized that, for once, renjun was thankful that his best friend is the most stubborn person in the planet and made him go to that stupid frat party.

because now, you’ve got him in your hands and he was completely okay with that.

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ] Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here.

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

Can we talk for a sec?

He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you.

“Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?”

Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

“Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been.

Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

“I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do.

“It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

“No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you.

“I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble.

“You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Good.”

You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”

“See you in a few days.”

“Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress.

He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest.

Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable.

Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them.

Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former.

Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

“You’re bothering me.”

“Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away.

It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

“Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

“Shut. The fuck up.”

The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

“We’ll see.”

This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere.

Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong.

But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship.

Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t.

Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

“I missed you, Zacharias.”

He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it.

“How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

“They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew.

“Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

“Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

“There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

“Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke that you’re still anxious around him?

The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

“Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

“Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike.

His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight.

The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch.

When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice.

Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?”

Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground.

But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there.

He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.”

He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone.

The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture.

He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors.

It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides.

“Hey, stranger," you greet.

Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

“So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around.

You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

“Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding.

“One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away.

“Rude,” you utter.

He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

“You know I’m smart.”

Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't.

"I still don't get it."

So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his.

"Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page.

Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen.

"Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head.

You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not.

But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles.

It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.

"God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us."

You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt.

He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin.

Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to.

“You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit.

You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours.

Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

"Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers.

He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on.

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?"

You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question.

"Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured.

If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.

"Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?"

You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

"Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you.

It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else.

You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him.

It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more.

You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc.

Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked.

You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?"

He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders.

The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see.

It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you.

Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him.

You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off.

You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest.

Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be.

You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip.

"Zeke," you breathe, body trembling.

"What is it, baby?" He coos.

"I—"

He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand.

Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there.

Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good.

You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

"Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time.

"It's getting late."

Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration.

But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though.

Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them.

Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place.

After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

“Okay, yeah.”

He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car.

Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year.

The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort.

The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds.

You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much.

You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him.

It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend.

Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way.

He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you.

You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did.

"Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear.

He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear."

"Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say."

You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights.

It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups.

"Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no.

The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

"'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine.

You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with.

"You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

"I promise I'll behave."

That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged.

So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea.

"Miche," you protest, drawing his name out.

"Just think about it."

He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party.

As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen.

Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes.

"Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

"We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

"And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is.

There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before.

"Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward.

You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's weird and dramat—"

"No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up.

"We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

"Are you serious?"

You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm.

"As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life."

You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have.

He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on.

"His loss."

"Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it.

"We should change the subject."

Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be.

"Why? Gettin' all worked up."

"You are literally the worst."

You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

"Uh huh."

He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him.

You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend.

Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else.

Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it.

It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong.

Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny.

"Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff.

"Why not?"

"'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

"Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

"I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

"I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

"So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now.

You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?"

Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

"It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

"Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

"Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything."

He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

But, he would never.

You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

"I haven't seen your new apartment yet."

You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through?

"You sure?" He questions.

"Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

"Are you sure?"

He must feel terrible. You can relate.

"If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort.

"No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

"Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help.

"Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader

186 notes · View notes

asphora · 4 years

Text

Marigolds | csc

wc: 5,569 | angst, hanahaki disease, seungcheol x reader, f!reader, non-idol!verse, cursing, character death, tw:sickness, tw:death

a/n: I’ve been in a slump and in a really bad place recently, but out of nowhere this came to me and somehow writing it made me feel better? idk. Also, I recommend listening to Yiruma’s Prelude in Gm. It’s such a beautiful piece. Anyway, thank you.

Love can often look like so many things that don’t seem like love.

The night the world stops spinning is the night you see her for the first time. You’d known of her existence long before you’d even had the misfortune of laying your eyes on her, from stories and various retellings enthusiastically recounted to you by your group of 13 male friends. Their words had made her something of a phantasmagoric collection of enchanting and enigmatic quirks and traits, something otherworldly; brave and spontaneous, fun but equally intelligent. But for all their praise, you figured their words were just that.

Nodding along as Seungcheol prattled on about her ardently, you silently listened, finding some semblance of solace knowing that there was no person without flaws. To you, she seemed more like a Monet than anything; something beautiful to behold, but only from a distance. The closer anyone got, surely the more the cracks would start to show and for all her magic and mystery, you figured soon enough the boys, particularly Seungcheol, would soon realize the truth: that there was no such thing as magic. Only real people, with their flaws and undone seams, haphazardly strewn together.

That night the music blared in your ears, despite coming from the next room where Soonyoung was drunkenly DJing. Around you were throngs of people, a mix of strangers and friends alike, bodies danced intoxicatedly moving to the beat reverberating through the walls of the frat-house.

When you see him, you can’t fight the smile that spreads on your lips. Your hand is already raised, ready to wave him down and wrap him in the embrace you two always shared. You don’t know it yet, but that night is different from all the others; the beginning of the end.

It only takes him few steps more for you to see that his hand, which is usually stuffed into his pockets, is prettily decorated by her dainty one; milky skin seemingly unmarred by the harsh yellow lighting in the crowded living room and her ring finger ornamented by a big bright rock you recalled seeing at Seungcheol’s apartment a week prior.

Immediately your hand falls to your side and you take a step back, disappearing effortlessly into the crowd as your watchful eyes are trained on the couple. She with her red silk dress that seemed to accentuate and hug her body in the most complimentary way, and him in his usual all black ensemble that definitely did not betray the senses, showcasing his toned body through the fabric. They looked more like they belonged on the front of some expensive travel or style catalogue.

You would have described the pair as one that stuck out like a sore thumb, but that wasn’t the case. As they waded through the waves of people—his arms wrapped gently around her, never faltering in their protective hold on her—they seemed to put everyone else to shame. It wasn’t that they didn’t belong at this party, it was that they made everyone else look like they shouldn't have been there.

As you watch them laughing and dancing, whispering, faces always close to each other’s, you realize that she is not the mirage you had made her out to be in your head. She’s everything they said she was, and even more, she bore his heart.

“Seungcheol!” the bellowing voices of 13 other boys pull you from your thoughts and suddenly, you go from a passive by-stander simply basking in the glow of the couple, to the forefront of all the excitement as Mingyu finds you in the crowd and pulls you by the arm to where Seungcheol and the others are standing.

Dark chocolate irises that you’ve known all your life and have practically memorized at this point meet your own and that’s the last color you register along with the sounds of cheering and shouting of joyous congratulations, before everything becomes a blur of motion as your legs will you through the halls of the frat house you practically lived at. After that all you see is orange—bright, fiery, blazing orange.

As you sink onto the floor of Jihoon’s bathroom, vision bleary from the pain, you press your cheek onto the tile taking whatever comfort you can from their soothing coolness.

‘Marigolds,’ you chuckle at the irony of just how fitting it is, the sound coming out more of a garbled cough than a laugh due to the burning in your throat, 'in the language of flowers, it meant despair, grief and jealousy.'

As you shift in and out of consciousness, the alcohol in your system working too well with the pain in your chest and throat, forcing you under, you reach your hand out, fingers trying to grasp at the orange blossoms. You hadn’t even made it to the toilet.

‘Sorry Woozi,’ you think in your last moments of consciousness, ‘promise I’ll clean it later. It just hurts too much right now.’

And that’s how the said male finds you.

Once the party is done, Jihoon retreats to his quarters only slightly tipsy since he wasn’t much of a drinker anyway like the rest of the guys. There you are, passed out in the middle of his bathroom floor, lying in what at first glance seemed to be clouds of fire.

If he hadn’t know exactly what he was looking at, he would’ve thought the sight to be beautiful, immaculate even; your limp form swimming in a sea of marigolds, hands outstretched and gripping some of the fresh blooms in your hands, dark hair splayed out across the flowers in stark contrast to the vibrant orange beneath, and your face though tearstained was adorned with loose petals sticking to your skin.

His bathroom had never smelled so nice, he thought despite knowing you’d vomited these flowers. Never in his life had he seen Marigolds as vibrant as these, so alive and in full bloom, as though spring had come in the middle of winter to take up residence in his bathroom; the sight would put Demeter to shame. But he knew the truth of it; this sight was anything but that of life. You were dying.

***

“You have to get the surgery, y/n.” Jihoon sighs the words onto the skin of your forearm where there are various tubes sticking out of you, seemingly the only things keeping you somewhat alive.

You can tell by the way he says it that he’s beyond exhausted, that these are words that he’s tired of saying, that this is a plea he and all the other 11 boys from your friend group are tired of begging you for. You don’t say anything, and your silence only makes him more irked.

“If you aren’t going to get the surgery, at least tell him the truth,” Jihoon attempts to reason with you, “he deserves to know the truth, or even just the chance to save his best friend. You can’t avoid him forever, and you sure as hell can’t just suddenly die and leave him wondering how the fuck that happened.”

Jihoon’s crass words make you laugh, a breathy quiet chagrin that slips from your lips sounding more like a cough than mirth. He’s so fed up with you that he doesn’t even bother to choose his words wisely, not like how he was when this all started a month ago.

“He hasn’t even tried to visit me.” At that he rolls his eyes.

“Because you won’t let him. You won’t even let us tell him that you’re in the hospital. As far as he knows your back home with your parents getting better, not here in Seoul, in a hospital, fucking dying.”

This time, it’s your turn to roll your eyes and admonish him, albeit weaker compared to his display. “I get it Woozi, I’m dying, I don’t have much longer to live. Tell me something the doctors haven’t, I get it—”

“No, you don’t!” His booming voice suddenly cuts you off. For the first time in your long friendship with him, he raises his voice at you.

“You don’t get it,” you watch him as he shakes his head, “you say you get it, that you know you’re dying, but you don’t. You’re acting like this is a small thing, that it’ll go away sooner or later, but it isn’t. It’s either you get the surgery or you’re dead, done, gone forever. There won’t even be anything left of you to love that oblivious, unworthy asshole you call your best friend.

“A real best friend would be more worried about you, would be here, breaking down doors and begging me and the rest of the guys to let him see you, he’d at the very least, demand to be able to visit you and not be running around having fun with his whatever-she-is while you’re dying.”

Tears fill Jihoon’s eyes as he paces, arms angrily flailing as he rants to and at you. That’s when Wonwoo, seemingly forgotten in the corner, ever the quiet spectator and your next closest friend after Jihoon and Seungcheol, steps in to place a calming hand on Jihoon’s heaving chest.

“Jihoon,” Wonwoo’s thick baritone pierces through the sound of Jihoon’s angry breaths, “that’s enough. Look at her, she’s crying.”

You hadn’t realized it until Wonwoo had pointed out, but your face was hot with moisture, and your patient’s gown was soaked down the front with the tears that had run off your face. Jihoon seeing this seems to snap out of his trance, his stance relaxing and his eyes growing soft.

“Sorry, y/n, I-I didn’t mean, I—”

“It’s okay Jihoonie,” you hadn’t used that nickname in a long time, not since Seungcheol had practically thrown a fit, banning you from calling any of the others by cute nicknames, “it’s okay, don’t be sorry, I get it.”

Giving him and Wonwoo the warmest smile you can muster in your weakened state, you open your arms out for them, their strong sturdy forms quick to bend to fill the tiny space of your arms, wrapping your frail form in their own warmth.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper the words onto the tops of their heads, petting the hair there, “I get it, I do. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m scared too.”

The admission of your own fear wracks a brand-new sob through your chest that you hadn’t known you were holding back, and immediately you’re crying a fresh batch of tears onto the fabric of their shirts.

“I don’t want to die,” you wail despite the scratching of your throat as you clutch the fabric of their shirts into clenched fists, “but I can’t, I don’t want to—I can’t do it. If I get the surgery, I’ll forget, and I can’t—

“I can’t live in a world where I don’t know Seungcheol, where I don’t know his smile or the sound of his voice and his laughter, where I don’t know that he’s a cry baby and that his favorite kind of movies are romcoms, even though he’ll never admit it to anyone but me.

“I’m scared too, but it’s not just dying,” you sob, “what kind of life would it be if I stopped knowing him? If I couldn't even remember the only love I’ve ever known?”

***

Weeks pass in a blur of burning orange speckled with blotches of vibrant red; hospital bins filled to the brim with orange marigolds drenched in bile and blood; nurses carrying and disposing more and more beautiful bright bouquets of marigolds each passing day.

“The marigolds are really pretty, at least.” Soonyoung absentmindedly remarks as he watches a nurse file out of the room, two trash bins in hand, brimming with freshly puked flowers.

Seungkwan who stands beside him gives the hin a look of complete outrage, nudging Soonyoung’s side a little too harshly with his elbow, making the blonde yelp in pain. Jihoon who’s sitting at your bedside only rolls his eyes at the insensitivity, while the rest of the boys stand around awkwardly and apologetically.

The tense sight of almost all your closest friends standing around as if they were at your funeral rather than just your hospital room only makes you laugh into the receptacle on your mouth, cursing the restraining contraption despite it being the only thing that’s managed to help you breathe throughout this whole ordeal.

Shifting up weakly, you move to sit up in your hospital bed to get a better look at the boys. Jihoon’s hands are quicker than your frail body though, as he tries to keep you lying down.

“C’mon, Hoonie, I’m dying, not losing my sense of humor,” you shrug his hands away and Mingyu’s takes their place to sit you up, “what Soonyoung said was funny.”

“I’m not offended, it’s funny. I mean, they are pretty, right? It would suck if I was dying and the flowers exploding out my gut were fucking ugly as shit. Could you imagine puking roses? Ugh, how generic,” you chuckle, upping the dramatics and giving Soonyoung a wink along with a mirthful grin which he sheepishly returns.

You glance at Seungkwan who’s trying to bite down his smile and you offer him your own wide one, “bet you never had a flower shop for a friend, huh?” And at that, the others who’d spent most of this time awkwardly standing around, the same way they did every week when they came to visit, finally let out their laughter.

You laugh along with them as much as your lungs will allow and you shake Jihoon’s shoulder, as if the gesture will shake the frown off of his face as you whine, “C’mon, please don’t be mad, Jihoon. I’m dying, you’re not allowed to be mad at me.”

“She kinda has a point, Hyung.” Vernon, feeling more relaxed after your joke, takes a seat at the foot of your bed and shrugs at the older male.

“Dying friend trumps angry friend,” you shrug, smiling brightly at Vernon who just pets your leg affectionately. Despite his irritation, Jihoon watches the exchange and visibly softens, patting your head just as sweetly and giving you half a smile. “Whatever, you’re stupid.”

“By the way, where’s Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, changing the topic effectively, “isn’t he supposed to be here, too?”

“He said he’s running late,” Jihoon checks the clock, noting that the male is never usually this late, “he said he had to pick up something before—” as if on cue, the male in question rushes through the doors of your hospital room, panting and sweaty.

“What the heck, Woo? Did you run all the way here?” you laugh at his disheveled state, “don’t you have a car—” just as quickly as he makes it through the door, your words die on your tongue, finally seeing just what it was he had to pick up, rather who.

“Seungcheol.” The world seems to stop for a moment when your eyes meet his, and everyone in the room becomes as still as statues, the playful mood from earlier quickly dissolving into wordless tension.

It feels like eons before someone breaks the palpable stiffness in the room, but it’s Wonwoo’s voice that slices through it and breaks the trance you and Seungcheol are locked in, “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“What the actual fuck, Wonwoo!” This is the loudest your voice has ever managed to be since you arrived at the hospital and the strain burns your throat so much that you start coughing violently, gasping desperately for air as a fresh wave of nausea hits you and the rest of the boys can tell right away by the panicked look in your eyes.

Vernon, who’s closest to the new trash bin is quick to grab it, placing it in front of you on your lap, while Mingyu’s hands efficiently remove the breathing receptacle from your face. Jihoon reacts like it’s his second nature to pull your hair out of your face and hold it behind you, while Wonwoo moves to your side to gently stroke your back, cooing soft encouraging whispers into your ear as bright orange starts to assault your senses, blurring your vision and filling the room with sickly sweet scent of marigolds along with the sounds of your violent retching. Soonyoung and Seokmin are quick to leave the room, saying they’ll call a nurse for an extra bin while the rest sit to the side, not even an inkling of panic on their faces.

It all happens so fast, with such lighting precision and rehearsed accuracy that Seungcheol is sure that this isn’t the first time his closest friends have been through this. He realizes quickly that he’s the only one who hadn't known.

Once you're done unloading your flowery guts into the bin, Minghao is already ready with a moist towelette to wipe away any dribble along your lips. Your weak gaze manages to meet Seungcheol’s confused but visibly enraged ones, but you don’t speak. Not for lack of ability to, but because there was nothing left to say. The jig was up, he knew.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Seungcheol’s voice is booming and you almost laugh at how often you’d heard those words in the span of time you’d been in the hospital, but his next words cease any coherent thought you might have, “who is he? Tell me, y/n, who the fuck is he, I’ll kill him.”

Confused, your eyes dart from the angry eyes of the subject of your affections, to the bespectacled ones of your other best friend who was still standing beside you, hands unwaveringly rubbing gentle, soothing circles onto your back.

“Woo?”

“I thought you should be the one to tell him.” He explains, eyes apologetic.

“I swear to god, y/n! Is this where you’ve been the past two months?” Seungcheol, ever the impulsive and quick to anger person he is, doesn’t even register the moment that passes between you and Wonwoo, “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell your best friend! We’ve been through everything together, and I would do anything for you but you were just going to go through all of this, all alone, without me?”

You only laugh at how he was exactly the same Seungcheol you’d always remembered. Two torturous months had passed and while the time had seemed to trudge on slowly for you, the time feeling like eternities without him, it had flown by for him and he had emerged from the other end practically unscathed; you were dying, and in a way, he was literally killing you with heartbreak but all he could think about was how you could have the audacity to leave him out of your own illness and death.

Classic Seungcheol. It might have seemed unbearably selfish of him, but this was also part of why you loved him so dearly. He was so innocent, so caught up in his own heart that he barely registered anyone else’s, but it also meant that once he treasured someone, he would do anything, sacrifice anything for them. His one-track mind and heart would never let him be or do anything less; if Seungcheol had to give you the world just so that you might live, he would die trying to get it.

It was exactly why you had wanted to leave him out of it. You knew that he was too kind, too self-sacrificing to the point of selfishness, too caught up in his own emotions that he would never understand your choice to not have the surgery—to die.

“Sorry, Cheolie,” you try to smile despite the sob that gets caught in your throat, “I just thought it would be better this way.”

At your words, he immediately unclenches and finally all the anger that wracks his body seems to dissipate from him until all that’s left in his irises is confusion and hurt. "You don’t have to do this. You can just have the surgery,” he coaxes, walking over to your bedside where he takes your hand in his, gently rubbing the skin there with his thumb before gently pressing it to his lips, closing his eyes as he does so.

“But I can’t, Cheolie, I can’t forget—” you almost slip up and say ‘you’, but you swallow it down and Seungcheol is quick to take the reigns of the conversation again.

“You can! You can forget that bastard! Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you, your love, or your death.” He pleads, tears pricking the edges of his eyes.

“You don’t know that Seungcheol,” the first time in a long time you’d used his first name, “he doesn’t deserve me, he deserves better, you just don’t know—”

“I don’t want to know! If he really loved you, he wouldn’t be letting you die here all alone—”

“But I’m not alone!” you try to argue, but Seungcheol isn’t having any of it, he’s too riled up again, too in his pain to let you explain anything to him.

“No, y/n! For fuck’s sake, listen to me! If he can’t love you when you’re fucking willing to die for him, then he’s not gonna love you even after you’re dead! And there’s no use dying just to remember someone who doesn’t love you!” he heaves, “isn’t it better to just be alive not remembering someone who could never love you?”

Everyone stood around you, eyes wide and tensely watching, awaiting your response with bated breath. His words hurt. More than anything, they felt like a death sentence, an indirect confirmation that Seungcheol could never and would never return your feelings. Fighting the marigolds bubbling in your chest threatening to spill out, you can only shake your head, smiling at him as tears finally spill from your eyes.

It takes everything in Jihoon not to punch the lights out of Seungcheol as everyone watches you cry, but Wonwoo’s firm grip on Jihoon’s arm is warning enough that you wouldn’t want them fighting with each other.

“It’s okay,” you finally manage the words, and everyone but Seungcheol knows that the words are more for everyone else in the room, “I know you don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to.

“You’re not meant to; it’s not for you to understand. This is mine.” Seungcheol meets your eyes and in them he sees a finality that he has never seen before, a certainty unmarred by fear or sadness. “So, I don’t care if you’re mad at me, or if you don’t agree. You don’t have to, you just have to be my friend and sit this one out, okay?”

Your eyes scan through the room, meeting the eyes of all your closest friends, asking for their silent agreement to both keep your secret but also to no longer question your decision. “Just be my friend and sit with me till—”

“Till the end.” Wonwoo finishes when you’re unable to, voice shaky from overuse and the emotions.

The night the world ends is the day your heart finally stops. For three days prior you’d been in a medically induced coma, the doctors explaining to Jihoon and all your friends that it would be too much, too painful to keep you awake while your body slowly failed; your lungs slowly filling with blood, fluid and marigolds, its roots constricting the far too weakened organ tighter and tighter until your system would eventually crash from the lack of oxygen. Ultimately suffering from a long and arduous suffocation.

When you go, it isn’t peaceful or serene like the books or the movies often say it is. Your body is a mess of convulsions and painful retching fits. Despite being sedated, you're gasping for air; your body seemingly clawing onto life and fighting to preserve itself despite your heart telling it to let go. As the last of your struggle and life dissipates from your body, you’re surrounded by the same friends who’d kept you company throughout this whole ordeal.

Till the end, even on the days you could no longer talk, or wake up to even see them, they had stayed. Some talked to you, sometimes telling you stories, reading you your favorite books, and even saying their goodbyes one by one. Even Seungcheol, who despite his bursts of anger and frequent tantrums that had him walking out, always returned to keep his promise and just sit with you.

That night, there were no marigolds like when Jihoon had first found you, it was not beautiful or immaculate. There was no portrait of you sprawled in a field of bright golden flowers. Instead, there were only bloodied, wilting petals scattered at your bedside and sticking to your skin and robes, the orange barely visible through the blood that stained them. Your frame was the smallest they’d ever seen it and you were completely pale, the only color on you was the blood that had caked and dried at your lips and wherever else it had splattered, along with the mess of withering petals.

When the flatline finally echoes through your tiny ICU room, with 13 cramped bodies, not including the doctors and nurses, no one says anything. Wonwoo is the first to crack, taking your limp hand in his, pressing the lifeless limb to his lips then falling to his knees and finally breaking down completely for the first time. Everyone else follows suit.

Your distant relatives had settled the arrangements for the funeral, deciding to have it in Seoul where you would be surrounded by all your friends and most beloved ones. They are kind and understanding, despite not having been close with you and they thank everyone who attends graciously. All your friends attend, Seungcheol even brings his girlfriend for moral support and she does just that. You would’ve been happy that he had her shoulder to cry on, Jihoon thinks as he watches them.

The night Seungcheol’s world stops is a week after your passing. Jihoon invites Seungcheol to go out with him and Wonwoo. When he meets the pair at the park, sitting on a bench, all three of them almost laugh at how much of a similar state they’re all in; eyes puffy with dark circles underneath to match, and faces swollen from sleepless nights spent crying.

“If y/n were here, she’d laugh at how bad we look,” Wonwoo laughs, the first to break the silence, “she’d never let us live it down.”

“I miss her.” Seungchol breathes out the words into a puff of cold exhalation. At the words, Jihoon feels his fists clench, a sudden rage washing over him, but Wonwoo is quick and takes it upon himself to perform the difficult task at hand instead of Jihoon.

“You should know, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo sadly meets the gaze of his friend, forcing the words and choking down the tears in his throat, “it was you.”

“Y/n didn’t want us to tell you, she was kind that way,” Jihoon runs a hand through his locks, fighting the tears, “but we’re not as kind.”

“We thought you deserved to know.” Wonwoo clarifies, not letting Jihoon’s anger cloud their actual purpose.

“She was in love with you, she always has been,” Jihoon sighs, recounting the conversation he had with you a few weeks prior to you being comatose.

“There’s still time, y/n. I know I said I would drop it, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying to save his best friend, right?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s okay, Hoonie, I understand.” Till the very end, you were kind despite your pain.

“You know why marigolds?” your eyes look to Wonwoo sitting by Jihoon then trail off to the view outside your window. “When I first arrived in Seoul, he was my first friend. I met him in a field of marigolds. I’d fallen and scraped my knee. It was really bad actually, I had to get stitches after. I remember trying so hard not to cry, because I was a big girl and this was the big city and I just felt like there were no room for tears here, y’know?”

You laugh at the memory, “out of nowhere this big kid comes running at me asking if I’m okay. While I tried not to cry, telling him I was okay, he took one look at the gaping wound and all the blood on my skirt and he started crying so loudly.

He was so dramatic that it almost made me forget how much it hurt, and I could laugh even just a little at him. So overly emotional, that boy.” You shake your head. “Anyway, I ask him why he’s crying, and this obviously much older and taller boy bawls at me saying ‘it looks like it hurts, doesn’t it hurt? And you’re not crying so I’ll just cry for you’.”

“He cried so much that his parents eventually found him and me, and brought me to the hospital to get stitches. I’ve been with him ever since. We were so young back then. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember…”

Finally looking back at Jihoon who now sees the fresh tears in your eyes, “but I-I don’t want to forget, Jihoon. I don’t want to forget him or who he helped me become.”

“And I knew, you know?” chuckling mirthlessly, your eyes shift to Wonwoo’s sad eyes as they watch your sadder ones, “I knew he couldn’t feel that way about me, I knew he didn’t love me, but I adored him anyway. There were times I thought, maybe, maybe he’d finally see me...”

Turning back to Jihoon, you could only shrug, “but we all know how that turned out.”

“She always loved you, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo interjects, ending Jihoon’s retelling and watching as the older male’s eyes fill with tears.

“But why didn’t she—why couldn’t she just have told me? She could’ve just been honest.”

“We all know that wasn’t an option,” it’s Jihoon’s turn to interrupt this time, “you were engaged, and she wasn’t going to ever let herself get in the way of that.”

A silence passes between them at his words. It was true. No matter how Seungcheol looked at it and flipped it around in his head, you were far too selfless to do anything so cruel, and knowing you, the last thing you’d want was to make it any harder on him. You were no angel, but you were a good person, the best he knew, but he also knew you could be selfish to a certain extent. Instead of just going through with the surgery, you suffered painfully till the very end, and all to preserve memories of someone who he now knew didn’t even deserve to be remembered, all because he was too blind and too wrapped up in his own heart to see it, to see you.

“I love you; I’m waiting for you unbearably.” Wonwoo’s eyes are closed as he whispers the words into the emptiness of the starless night sky. The two males stare at him wordlessly as if waiting for an explanation and after taking his time, letting the moment pass, he does.

“It was a quote y/n really loved, from a book she recommended to me a while back.” He smiles fondly at the memory, “during her last days, sometimes she’d whisper it in her sleep.”

They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, wordlessly comforting each other by just being there. As they stayed there, basking in the stillness and calm that seemed to envelope the rest of the universe; your death felt like the world had ended, but here it was, continuing to spin through the vastness of the cold October night sky; blissfully ignorant of your passing. Even in that emptiness, there was comfort and somehow, they could almost feel you; just there, sitting with them till the end.

Seungcheol is the first to stand to leave, whispering a hoarse thank you to the two before turning to head to his car and driving off, home to his fiancé. Wonwoo and Jihoon don’t say anything more. It’s Jihoon who decides when it’s finally time to leave. He turns to Wonwoo, beckoning to the male with a nod.

“Let’s go, Woo.”

“Do you think it will hurt?” Jihoon doesn’t look at him as he drives, but quirks his brow, confused by his question.

“What, the surgery?”

It takes a moment before Wonwoo can respond. He’s perfectly calm, looking out the window at the streaks of passing light as he shakes his head, “no. Forgetting.”

The words take Jihoon by surprise, but he doesn’t show it, not wanting to worry him any further. Instead, he gives him a comforting smile, the first hint of sincere softness on his face since you had been admitted to the hospital, and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. I think it only hurts when you know you’re forgetting. But once you’ve forgotten, then there has to be some relief in that, right? To be able to be a blank slate. A new start, she would have wanted that for you.”

Wonwoo only nods, closing his eyes as he takes in the younger’s words.

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo,” Jihoon’s hand is a comforting warmth on his shoulder, “even when you can’t remember her anymore, I’ll remember her for the both of us.”

Fin.

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