#I had to spend the rest of the semester going so hard to save my B and u kno what that extra work n pain taught me?

[abimess]

Fucked Up

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your boss has been having a tiring day at work. Luckily for her, you're there to give her exactly what she needs. [Requested]

Word count: 4.571 || Pronouns: not used 

Warnings: boss!Wanda, smut (18+ only!), power bottom!Wanda, strap on use, office sex, hair pulling

A/N: My intentions were to only come back with the stories when my semester was over, but I ended up having some free time today and when I checked Tumblr I saw we'd reached 4k followers! (Thank you all so much by the way) So, not to let this milestone go unnoticed, I decided to post a story I had saved in my drafts for a few weeks. Enjoy! 

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Masterlist | Be notified of my stories (Read on: Wattpad)

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Wanda Maximoff walked briskly into her office today. 

Not the usual steps you had become accustomed to, the stiletto heels clicking rhythmically while she kept her chin up. No, today's were different. 

They were edgy, as if the shoes were about to pierce the floor and send her crashing to the floor below. It was the kind of walk that made the surrounding conversations slow down as all the employees watched her with curiosity and, especially, apprehension. 

Not looking at the door every time the redhead arrives has become something that - after endless failures - you have given up pretending not to do. So obviously you had already memorized every one of her details, every one of her movements. 

You deduced that the large sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose were there to cover her face, perhaps disguise her countenance. Still, even from a few tables away, it wasn't hard to notice her lips hardened, her jaw clenched.

Wanda didn't just look irritated, she looked furious. Something must have happened and the sip you took from my water bottle did nothing to control your concern. 

By the way the redhead entered her office, slamming the door and then closing all the blinds that prevented the free view provided by the large glass windows, your suspicions are confirmed.

You didn't think twice before getting up, picking up a stack of papers stapled together that you had printed out earlier today. You sense a few stares following you as you walk, but honestly, you can't care much, your thoughts entirely focused on the redhead.

"Good morning, Ms. Maximoff, I have some reports I'd like to discuss with you." You lied as you closed the door, in an attempt to ensure that none of your colleagues suspected the interaction with the head of the department. 

Concern for the redhead was not something friendly and kind among co-workers. In fact, to be honest, you knew nothing about half the people who shared this floor with you. 

It all started a few months ago, amidst delayed paperwork and late nights at the office. 

Wanda took over her father's company a few years after he retired, when her twin brother decided that spending the family's money on travel and luxury items was much more worthwhile than sitting behind a desk and coordinating hundreds of people. 

You knew from day one that things would improve with the arrival of the redhead. 

Nothing against Pietro, really he's a nice guy, and despite his rebellious and carefree nature, he was a good boss. But there's something about his sister that made her exceptionally better. 

Maybe it's the way she always pushes her employees to be better - without ever overwhelming or mistreating them. Or it was the way she always knew the best decision to make, almost like an instinct. 

Whatever it was, it was impossible not to admire her as a person and as a boss, and you were certainly part of the long list that did. 

But it turned out that this admiration went beyond work ethic issues, and this is something you would never admit within the walls of this building. Well, not until what happened a few months ago. 

At that time, you had just moved to a better apartment closer to work. And moving processes are as chaotic as they can be. So to make up for your late deliveries of documents and reports, you used to stay late, a little after the official working hours. 

It was then that you realized how much time Wanda spent in the office. Seeing her arrive early, at the same time as the employees, was something that caused instant surprise, since Pietro usually arrived after lunch - that is, of course, when he showed up. 

But to see her being the last to leave, that surprised you even more. 

"A little late to be working, isn't it, Y/n?" She asked you at the time, and the question came accompanied by a little smile as she saw you jump startled. 

As you swiveled in your office chair to see her better, you thought about retorting in the same tone. But deciding that you weren't close enough for that kind of banter, you settled for a smile. 

"Yeah, I'm just finishing up checking some documents due today." You explained, glancing at the computer screen, whose light was already starting to hurt your eyes.

The redhead hummed in understanding as she leaned over to check the data on the computer, the clarity making her eyes even greener. But you obviously shouldn't be thinking about the color of your boss's eyes. Nor much less about how, just below them, her skin was peppered with freckles. 

So you looked away, pretending to brush the dust off the table with your fingers. Luckily for you, she soon straightened her posture, recovering the distance that had been between the two of you.  

"Well, if you help me with something, I'll let you hand this in tomorrow." The redhead then suggested, smiling a small smile, a mixture of politeness and sweetness that you couldn't help but wonder if she shared it with everyone else.

But then you silly questioning was cut short as you finally realized her question, frowning in curiosity. In response, Wanda nodded slightly, inviting you to follow her. Silently, you stood up.

"Victor gave me the allotment report for the week," she says as you walk together to her office, "but some of the numbers seem odd to me. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow, but I wanted a second opinion on it."

You nodded in agreement, not really knowing what to say. It is no secret that Doom is not the type to take his work seriously, which has already resulted in several problems. These, however, were solved by other people - including you, sometimes in the past - so the guy didn't mind too much as long as it didn't affect him directly. 

Still, Victor is your co-worker, and to bad-mouth any of them with your boss seemed a bit inappropriate. Appearing to notice your thoughts, the redhead smiled, but didn't comment further. 

This was not the first time you had been in Wanda's office, but neither time were you invited to join her on her side of the table. It's funny how things look friendlier from that angle than from the opposite side. 

The redhead has some family photos scattered around the table, some decorations next to jars with colored pens. On the woman's computer rest screen, there are two smiling children and, smiling too, you ask before you can contain yourself. "Are those your children?"

Wanda knits her eyebrows together briefly in confusion as she settles into her chair, but as soon as her gaze follows yours, she smiles easily. "Yes, they're my boys." She proudly explains, and you didn't even realize how your own smile widened. "Billy and Tommy. They're twins, you know? Just like me and Pietro."

"That's actually really cute-" your thoughts were lost as you looked at the redhead and, unlike just a moment ago, she was teary-eyed. Conflict danced inside you, wondering what to do or say. But before you had a chance to make up your mind, the woman spoke again. 

"I'm sorry." She asked amid a tearful laugh, wiping the corners of her eyes with her hands. "It's just... I'm going through a difficult time, my husband and I are getting divorced. But of course you already know that, gossip runs easily around here."

"I didn't know." You told, which was a lie. "Much." You added when she looked at you in disbelief, and something in your stomach did a flip when she let out a low chuckle, shaking her head in amused disapproval before sighing. 

"Yeah, not much to say." She comments with a shrug. "I spend a lot of time in the office and away from home. He found someone else to do what I wasn't doing." 

Despite the tone of acceptance, Wanda's look shows the pain of betrayal, and noticing it would make anyone's heart heavy. Now, it is very complicated to comfort your boss in such a delicate and personal matter, so of course you had no idea what to say at that time. 

Don't worry, Wanda, your husband is an asshole, you'll find someone better.

What a bastard son of a bitch! Do you want to go and slash his tires? I'll drive!

I'm sure this was the dumbest decision of his life, I have no doubt that very soon he will be back at your feet. 

All seemed to you to be valid options and fairly true. But still, she was your boss, and you were just the employee who was available to help her with some badly filled-out reports. None of those options were really appropriate. 

You only realized that you had spent a long time in silence when she brought her gaze to you, and panic was immediate. But before you could stammer out some nonsense to fill the space between the two of you, the redhead was speaking again. 

"Sorry to burden you with my problems, it's just that I signed the papers earlier today, I guess I'm a little emotional." Wanda says with an unconvincing chuckle, and for the first time you have a reaction in time for a response. 

"Don't worry about it," You assured her, "anyone would get emotional in a situation like this, it's understandable. You don't have to be the badass boss all the time." The last sentence made her genuinely laugh this time, which you appreciated, as this was exactly your intention. 

"Thank you." The redhead lets out softly, and it was there the first time you noticed how beautiful she is. 

Of course, you were not immune to the charms of Wanda Maximoff. Red hair perfectly falling over her shoulders covered by some new suit she had recently purchased that flattered her body even more than the previous one. A fierce, determined look in her eyes that made anyone walk the line. 

All this was very well appreciated by you. Perhaps - certainly - even more than you should appreciate. That inherent beauty of Miss Maximoff that had at least half the floor drooling when she walked by. 

But at that moment, just the two of you, in her office, when all the other people had already left the building. There it was as if you finally saw Wanda, just Wanda. With gentle eyes and sweet smile, with laughter that was not afraid to be loud. 

It was as if she was a whole new woman before your eyes and it was frightening the effect she had on you. 

Once again you realized the silence the both of you shared. You looking at her and her looking at you. Inappropriate. So you looked away. 

It didn't take long for the redhead to follow your movement, and so the two of you began to work on Victor Doom's poorly done report. Despite the very low quality of the document before your eyes, it doesn't even compare to other reports you have had to correct in the past, and this is what you try to keep in mind as you correct graph after graph. 

At first you thought it would be strange to work with Wanda by you side. A part of you - the part that is most anxious and that you have to live with every day - kept repeating that she would notice all your faults and fire you the next day. 

But it wasn't. Instead, it was very productive. To your surprise, the two of you thought very similarly, and it was curious to see how your ideas complemented each other. 

Still, amidst all the data to check and tables to correct, the conversation you had did not leave your mind. The crying eyes, the fragile voice, and the fact that her ex-husband had made her suffer like that. How could any person make a woman like Wanda suffer like that?

"He didn't deserve you." You widen your eyes as soon as the line passes your lips. Maybe you should have accepted the mug of coffee the redhead had offered you a few minutes ago, because your sleepy brain is clearly not helping you right now. 

Taking your eyes off the screen and bringing them to the woman next to you is easily one of the most difficult activities you have ever had to perform, so you did it in slow motion. When your gaze met hers, surprised and expectant, you sighed in surrender. You had already started, it was better to finish at once.

"You are an amazing woman, Wanda." You say. "And perhaps it is extremely inappropriate what I'm telling you now, but you are. You are kind and professional, and yes, maybe you spend too much time here, but you're just doing your job and you should be admired for it, not punished. And only a person with a tiny mind and scared of the success of the woman he has would do what he did to you. I would never-"

You bite my tongue to stop. That was too much already. It feels like if you stretch your hand in the air you'll feel the weight of the tension surrounding the two of you as Wanda's silence grows, digesting the words she had just heard. 

"You'd never what?" The redhead questions, her eyes fixed on yours with a mix of emotions that you can't identify, but they are expectant and somewhat challenging, compelling you to speak. 

"If I had the chance to share a life with a woman like you, I would never make you suffer." You answered, which was true. "I would make it a point to do everything in my power and out of it to make you happy. To deserve to be by your side. To-"

So, you would never have expected any of your speeches to be cut off by Wanda Maximoff's lips meeting yours, but oh well, the world is a little box of surprises.

Her mouth is soft, and feeling her sigh as you matched the kiss made something spring up at the base of your stomach. 

Moving your hands to her legs at that moment was instinctive, and maybe getting up and sitting on your lap was too, because the redhead does it with such ease that it seems to you that maybe she should've been there all along. 

It's no surprise to say that the report was completely forgotten by both of you after that. And even after all your clothes were thrown on the floor, you didn't stop kissing. 

And that's how whatever you had going on with your boss started. That was only the first time of many, but it never stopped being casual. It never stopped being a quick sex in her office. Or in the printer room when no one else was there, or in the bathroom, or... Anyway. It was casual, it was cool. 

Well, at least that's what you wanted to believe. Even if your heart beat differently sometimes, even if you missed her or wanted to share with her moments that were certainly not casual. 

But now was not the time for that, because you were back in the present, and you were face to face with a rather pissed off Wanda Maximoff, taking off her jacket and hanging it brutally on the coat rack in the corner of the room. 

"What about the reports?" She asks, looking at the papers in your hand with a hardened countenance, and you place the pile on the commode before she blasts them with her gaze. "Nothing, I just needed an excuse to come over here."

"Good, I don't need any more problems today." The redhead grumbles, huffing heavily, and your eyebrows frown in concern, swallowing dryly as you take a step forward. "What happened?"

"Stark called me." Wanda replies, turning on her computer, and the realization comes. Anthony Stark is one of the partners in the redhead's company. However, much unlike her, the man was a complete disservice to Stark Industries, all of his concern being devoted to drinking and partying. 

"Can you believe he's mad about the profit sharing? It's in the contract! That he signed!" The redhead continues to complain through clenched teeth, sighing heavily as she throws herself into her chair. "And now he's ruined my day."

"Well, the day just started, I'm sure we can do something to make it better." You comment gently, testing the waters and approaching the chair. You can almost see smoke coming out of the redhead's ears as she mumbles in disbelief.  

"How about a massage?" You suggest, already placing yourself behind Wanda's chair and bringing your hands to her shoulders. As soon as you put your fingers to work, the redhead lets out a contented moan, relaxing her body and murmuring a thank you that makes you smile.  

"I could cook you dinner later," You break the silence a little later, your heartbeats becoming more intense at the proposition of the two of you taking a step further, out of the confines of this office, "I don't know, maybe have a movie night after. To distract you."

"That's very sweet, honey, really." Wanda says as she stands up, the movement ceasing the rubbing, and you let your hands fall to the sides of your body as the redhead turns to you. Despite the small smile at the corner of her lips, irritation is still evident from her clenched jaw, and then you realize that maybe this isn't the best time for such suggestions.  

"But what will really distract me is you fucking me hard, yeah?" You don't know how you didn't choke on your own breath at the unexpected words, but still the shock must have been evident on your face, because the redhead smiles amused at your reaction, interlacing her fingers behind your neck. 

The woman does nothing, however, just looking at you expectantly, and only then do you realize that she is waiting for your consent. Instead of giving it verbally, you choose to pull her roughly around the waist, trapping her lips on yours in a hungry kiss. 

Wanda sighs in satisfaction, moaning affected as her fingers grip your hair tightly. But she needs much more from you than this, so the redhead shoves you against the chair, the wheels pushing you away from her a few inches due to her strength. 

"Take your pants off." The redhead commands, and you know better than to challenge Wanda Maximoff when she looks this angry. So, as the woman rummages through the last drawer of her desk, you get rid of your clothes at once, only your shirt protecting your body from the very well-cooled room by the AC. 

But it's not like you're going to feel cold at that moment, because the redhead's gaze descends on your figure hungrily before she throws the dildo in your lap with a smirk. It's very hard not to watch her take off her pants and panties, but you better have this toy ready for use when she's done, so you hurry to do so. 

As soon as Wanda, like you, is only in her button-down shirt, she straddles your lap, grabbing a handful of your hair and making you look at her. "Fuck me until I forget my own name."

This is certainly not a command you wouldn't want to follow, so you immediately line up the dildo at her entrance, and pull her around the waist with your free hand, burying the toy in her aching pussy. 

To suppress a loud moan, the redhead leans forward, biting your neck hard as her whole body shudders with the delicious intrusion. It wasn't hard to assume that the bite would leave a lasting mark, but you could feel her juices dripping onto your lap, so that was obviously the last of your worries. 

Although having her ride the fake cock was easily one of your favorite things, that position wasn't going to help much in accomplishing your goal of fucking her as hard as she would like. 

So, wrapping your arms around her middle, you lift both of you out of the chair, pushing some papers away so you could have her sitting on the wood, the sound of the items falling to the floor contesting your ears along with the sound of the strap shoving in and out of her. 

"I'm sure those papers were important." Wanda scolds in a teasing tone, her voice faltering in accordance with my movements, and a smirk travels to your lips. "You can keep me working a few extra hours after my shift to make up for it."

A smirk back is all the redhead was able to give you, as the next moment, you intensified your thrusts inside her, the dildo reaching that sweet spot inside her over and over again. 

The sound of skin slapping fills the air as Wanda tries to hold back her moans. And you'd like to say that you've gotten used to the feeling of having her, but you haven't. The truth is that every time the redhead offers you a little bit of her, you catch yourself craving more.

"Take off your blouse." You command, knowing you wouldn't be able to do it and keep up the relentless rhythm you knew she wanted inside her. The woman, who had her head thrown back and her back arched, brings her face forward, her eyebrow raised. 

"I'm the one who gives the orders around here." She recalls, holding you by the waist under your shirt and digging her nails into your skin, a silent scolding for your misbehavior. 

"Please." You add, trying to maintain what little composure you have left, and failing miserably as she purrs in thought, sliding her fingers up your skin, smiling as she feels you shudder under her touch. 

"Say that again." She demands, and only then do you realize that all the interaction has made you eventually slow down inside her, allowing her to take the upper hand. So instead of doing as she asked, you project my body forward, smirking as you watch her try and fail to suppress a moan. 

At the same instant, one of her hands slipped out of your shirt, flying up to your hair and gripping it tightly. "Behave." Wanda warns through clenched teeth, and all you're left with is a dry swallow. She would always have the upper hand.

"Take off your blouse. Please." You obey. 

"Fuck." The hand in your hair pulls you forward, bringing your mouth colliding with hers in a fervent kiss that is hard to keep up with as your head begins to spin. "I'll make you beg more often."

The teasing comment is almost comical, of course she would be able to make you do whatever she wanted you to do. But instead of laughing, your mouth salivates as the redhead moves her hands away from you to take them to her blouse, unbuttoning it all the way down. 

As you wait, you return the intense thrusts inside Wanda, who needs to bite her lower lip in a poorly effective attempt to contain her moans, watching you fuck her with lustful eyes. 

When the redhead's blouse finally falls to the table, your body begs you to touch every bit of newly exposed skin, so you project your body forward, kissing all the way down Wanda's torso as you leave your hands on her waist to maintain your movements. 

As soon as your lips meet the redhead's nipple, you feel the whimper bubble up in her chest, her hand in your hair encouraging you to keep going, dividing your attention equally between her two breasts.

It doesn't take long for the soft skin to stiffen under your tongue's touch, and it takes only a little longer for Wanda's body to start spasming as her orgasm explodes throughout her entire body. 

You wouldn't stop until she told you to, however, so you maintain your thrusts, guiding her through her high until she can't take it anymore. A few minutes later, her trembling hand rests on your abdomen, urging you to pull away. 

You obey. However, as soon as the strap slides off her, your hands on her waist turn her around, leaving her on her back to you, her ass pressed against your lap. "Y/n-"

The confused cry is interrupted by the toy sliding back inside her, the redhead choking on her breath. The movements are slow this time, pushing gently through her overstimulation. It's your turn to hold her by the hair, pulling her close and listening to her whimper when her face is close enough.

"You wanted me to fuck you until you forgot your name, didn't you?" You recall in a false tone of innocence, peppering her shoulder with small kisses. "I'm just doing as I was told."

Wanda moans, closing her eyes to enjoy the delicious mixed sensation of pleasure and pain. Releasing her hair, you move the hand that was in her locks to the front of her body, your other remaining firmly on her waist. 

The redhead chokes a second time when your fingers find her swollen clit, pressing gently. Instinctively, Wanda projects her body backwards, pressing her ass even harder against the strap-on and in a silent plea for more. And of course you would not object to giving her exactly what she wants. 

You increase the pace of your thrusts slowly as you draw light circles against her clit, smiling as you watch her shudder under your touch. The redhead props her elbows on the table, overwhelmed by the sensation of the strap filling her throbbing pussy. 

The knot between your own legs grows larger by the minute, but you try to maintain your coordination as best you can, intensifying the speed further and further. 

It doesn't take long before Wanda's second orgasm takes over again, and the redhead needs to cover her mouth with her own hand to keep herself from screaming. The strap-on pressed against your intimacy and the scene before your eyes are more than enough for the heat at the pit of your stomach to explode, warming your entire body as you maintain your movements to guide the both of you through your highs. 

When neither of you can take any more, you slide the toy off the redhead, hearing her whimper one last time before letting out a contented breath. With your hands on her waist, you spin her around again so that she looks at you, and the smile on her lips makes one of your own to grow. 

"Thank you." Wanda says breathlessly, pulling you by the collar of your shirt to kiss you sloppily, her smile against your lips making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

As she hugs you, pulling you closer with muscles much more relaxed than they were earlier that morning, you wonder if someday whatever you have will ever leave the confines of this building. If someday she will accept your invitation to dinner, or to the movies, or to any other date you invite her to. 

But for now, you repeat to yourself that this is enough. And, hugging her back, you allow yourself to relax as well.  

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And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen fanfiction

[bangtanficsforyou]

Girl of His Dreams (01)

Pairing: Fuckboi! Jungkook x Reader

Au: Strangers to Lovers au

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5K (approx)

Summary: You think Jungkook is the utter definition of beauty. Jungkook thinks you’re cute but just not his type. Throw a magic ring into the equation, that makes you look like the girl of his dreams and you have the perfect recipe for heartbreak and tears.

Main Masterlist | Prologue

If you enjoy my writing, consider supporting me on my patreon!

You're sure that the majority of people hate Mondays. Dread it even. You, on the other hand, used to look forward to Mondays because Mondays meant art classes. However, for the first time, you find yourself being a part of the Monday hater club. You just wish you could skip this day and remove its existence entirely. Or at least for this semester.

In the less than three days that you got to spend with your family, you had your fair share of relaxing moments. But after coming back to your dorms, it's like a part of you has realised that these distraction techniques are only temporary. Because there's no way for you to run away from the impact Jungkook's words have had on you.

Thankfully, yesterday you were tired from the journey and your mind did not have the energy to overthink. Which, you also think, is the reason why you could fall asleep so easily.

But now it's Monday which means art classes, which means you will see Jungkook again. There's no avoiding it. Worst of all, it's the first class of your day and you don't even have the time to prepare yourself.

As you make your way through the hallways and towards your designated room, your mind rushes to come up with all the ways in which you should be prepared to face Jungkook. It's like this one thing that you need to get right in order to save whatever amount of dignity you are left with.

Your imagination, however, is put to a halt when you find yourself in front of your class.

Gosh, this is going to be stressful.

You take a deep breath and tightly shut your eyes, before swinging the door of your classroom open. When you open them again, your eyes land on Jungkook's back, automatically.

Shit, he's already here and is sitting on your seat.

The sight of him, causes you to take a step back and you start second-guessing if you're ready to face him. It's not so much about his words anymore but rather how your body is reacting to seeing him. You were not feeling this way even a few moments ago and could have never predicted having to battle your thoughts like this.

You also don't have it in you to sit back and process the emotions you're feeling when your mind and body are screaming at you to run in the opposite direction. Somewhere away from Jungkook.

"Hey," someone taps on your shoulder, aggressively. "Do you plan to stand here for the rest of the day?"

You wince and face the person, only to roll your eyes when you realise who it is. "Can you for once, not be so aggressive?"

Brie rolls her eyes right back at you. "If I hadn't tapped you so hard, you might still be in your depressing dream world."

Shit. Are you making it obvious? In case you're, you can't have that. One of the many things that you had planned on, was to not show how affected and in turmoil you are. Because getting butthurt by people's words is not cool. It's childish and immature. Unfortunately, even though you want to, you can't do anything about the fact that the words had an impact on you, but you can work on not showing it and making it obvious.

Even if you're weak, you do not want to appear weak.

Not bothering to reply to Brie, you start walking towards your seat. You can't avoid facing him, what's the point of delaying it? You think you hear a "rude" coming from Brie but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Good morning, art girl," Jungkook says in greeting. When you respond to him with a simple nod and wordlessly ask him to scoot, he takes the hint that you're not interested in making conversations with him.

Understandable, he thinks. His words weren't exactly nice. But they had to be spoken. He had to make it clear that he isn't interested in you in some way or the other, sooner or later.

One might ask, why then, is he sitting next to you when he could have chosen any other seat? Well, your seat is right in front of the podium, so when he has to get up there to pose, he will have to walk the least. Plus, he didn't think it was important to change seats, anyway. He knows you won't mistake his actions again. Heck, you are not even talking to him, so why should he give up his ideal seat? A few moments of awkwardness is nothing he can't handle.

So, the two of you sit in silence with you occasionally operating on your phone, to find some distraction. For you, the atmosphere could not be any more suffocating.

Thankfully, around ten minutes later, your professor arrives, which gives you a bit of hope that you'll finally be out of your misery.

It takes a few moments of Miss Richardson chit-chatting with the class for the class to really begin. When Jungkook leaves your side you heave a deep sigh of relief as it feels like you can breathe again.

You arrange your materials and get ready to continue with the sketch. When you look up again, Jungkook is already shirtless and posing the same way he did in the last class.

You take a deep breath and take a look at your incomplete sketch. Hmmm. Where should you start with? As soon as the thought comes to mind, the eyes catch your attention. Something is missing. They need more details and some highlighting.

You involuntarily nod to yourself and make your decision. Eyes it is!

Quickly looking up, you take notice of Jungkook's eyes and then back to your sketch. Making a few quick observations, your pencil comes in contact with the paper to add some strokes at the corners of the eyes. After feeling satisfied, you look up again, to see what else you could add.

After a few moments of staring, you notice that there's a certain level of innocence in Jungkook's eyes. You look back to your sketch and notice that despite the strokes that you added, the eyes lack the ability to convey emotions and fail to stand out.

Your hands quickly get to work and you work on the irises. Your eyes do a quick back and forth between Jungkook and the sketch.

When you look up for the umpteenth time, you happen to find his eyes closed for a very brief moment as he blinks. When he opens his eyes, it's almost as if your brain starts to look at him from a completely different angle. Like one of those illusions, where you blink and only then does your brain catch up and sees the object for what it is.

It's almost as if you're seeing his eyes for the first time. And for the first time do you see the amount of beauty they hold. His eyes are so captivating and mysterious. It's like there's a library of books inside them, and you find yourself wondering what each of those books contain. You do not mind the idea of spending an eternity reading each and every book with great care so that you don't miss a single detail.

The feeling of a certain warmth blooming in your chest, grabs your attention and your face falls when you realise what exactly you were thinking.

Not again, you think. You can't do that again. You simply cannot afford to go down that road.

The feeling fuels a certain kind of anger in your veins and you find yourself feeling determined to finish the drawing as quickly as you possibly can. Because completing the sketch means not having to see Jungkook anymore.

Once you have caught your breath and are ready to start again, you pick up your pencil and get back to work. Unfortunately, it does not take too long for the thoughts to slip again. It's like his eyes have captivated you and you don't know how to get out.

As your anger turns into frustration, you admit defeat and think that it's a wise decision to work on the other body parts. You can get to the eyes again when your brain isn't behaving like it's on some sort of drug.

Focusing on the arms now, you restart. But much to your utter dismay, the same pattern follows. It only takes a few moments for you to notice how huge and sculpted his arms look. Your frustration grows as you keep trying to focus on other body areas but your thoughts keep going back to admiring his beauty and soon you find yourself running out of areas to work on.

Your agitation causes you to put an intense amount of pressure on the nib of your pencil until it breaks. The sight of the broken nib causes you to sigh and you feel pain at the thought of not being able to focus on the one thing you do right. When you feel tears pool in your eyes, you get up from your seat.

"Ma'am, I'm not feeling well, can I please be excused for a few moments?" You ask in a meek voice.

Miss Richardson, is one of those professors who's strict but at the same time gentle and observant. It might appear as if all she's been doing is sitting and updating grades on her laptop but in reality, she has also been keeping a close eye on the students and their activities.

By your constant fidgeting and squirming, it was obvious to her that no matter how hard you were trying to focus, for whatever reason, your mind was stuck somewhere else.

So when you come up to her asking if you could be excused, she is more than willing.

As soon as you're out, you beeline to the washroom. Locking the doors, you repetitively splash your face with cold water. If it was a movie, it would be one of those scenes where the female protagonist splashes water to get some sense back into her and then looks into the mirror with eyes heavy with emotion.

But this isn't a movie.

Although you look into the mirror with your hands gripping the edges of the sink tightly and your eyes are heavy with emotion, this is not a movie. Because you aren't pretty enough to be the main protagonist.

With that thought, it all comes crashing down. Every emotion that you couldn't make sense of suddenly starts making sense.

You aren't naive or foolish enough to think that Jungkook is the only good-looking man out there. There are people who are just as good-looking or maybe even more. The world is not limited to him.

But how does that make any difference?

Like every other person, you have had dreams of your prince charming, of your soulmate and what your 'forever' person would look like. In all of those, he was someone breathtaking, someone gorgeous and someone who's the utter definition of beauty. They loved you unconditionally and were just as much in awe with you, as you were with them.

Never did you consider the possibility that they might find you unattractive.

You are also, aware that just because Jungkook implied that he finds you unattractive or not conventionally good-looking, does not mean every other guy will hold the same opinion of you. But then, your history with men or lack thereof, simply proves that no one has ever found you good-looking either.

Why would they? You've got eyes and you can point out a hundred things wrong with your face in the blink of an eye. Everyone dreams of their loved one to radiate beauty and charm. And you're neither beautiful nor charming. Why would anyone choose you?

With your eyes locked with your reflection, you realise that you don't just feel unattractive. You feel unlovable.

When you were sketching Jungkook and observing those little details, you weren't only observing his physical features but also how easily lovable he is. How easy it is to love him and how he won't ever have to struggle to find love.

His beauty was only making you feel small and inferior.

A drop of tear falling on your wrist makes you realise that you have been silently crying all this while. The realisation only makes you think how pathetic you are to be crying in the bathroom about how you look. You're ugly but also so uncool.

The worst part is that there's nothing that you can do about it. You'll have to live with this face for the rest of your life. And maybe, you'll struggle the entirety of your life to find love. That is if you even do.

A warm sensation on your finger catches your attention once more but this time when you look down, it isn't a teardrop but rather the ring. The same ring that your mother gifted you a few days ago.

You had worn it to class thinking that it looks pretty and matches quite well with your outfit.

But now that the area in contact with the ring starts getting warmer and warmer, your confusion keeps increasing along with it.

Although the warmth isn't uncomfortable, you remove the ring from your finger. The moment the tips of your fingers come in contact with the metal, you realise that the ring in itself is warm and is well above room temperature.

Your immediate instinct is to touch the other ring you are wearing but to your complete surprise, you find that the ring is cold. This observation only causes you to frown harder.

You turn the faucet on and place the ring under it. Once you deem that it's been enough time for the ring's temperature to drop, you turn the water off. You dry the ring by wiping the remaining water off with some tissue paper.

To your utter disbelief, the ring remains just as warm.

But how the fuck is that even possible?

This is a clear slap on the face to the laws of thermodynamics, that you spent so much time learning!

Could….could it actually be some sort of a magical ring?

You remember thinking about the ring last night and how you didn't even entertain the thought of this ring being magical even for a second. Those sorts of things only exist in fantasy worlds. You'd be incredibly stupid to ever consider the possibility of it being one. You had peacefully settled on the conclusion that your mom only played a prank on you.

But right now, you are doubting everything.

It's not just how stubbornly it remains warm but also how it got warm out of nowhere. You cannot explain any of these things using logic.

"Hmm but not just any ordinary ring. The one who puts this on you will start seeing you as their dream partner."

Your mother's words ring in your head.

Ordinary ring? You cannot yet say that it's not an ordinary ring. But unlike before, you find yourself unable to rule out that possibility. This only makes you want to know for sure, what the deal with the ring is.

But how do you put the ring to test? One possible way is to wait for the ring to get heated up again or do something that isn't natural. But who knows when that will be?

The other option available to you is, to check whether the ring does what your mom claims, it's supposed to do.

With your decision being made, you wear the ring back, wipe your tears and clean your face a little bit before heading out to find someone who can help you with your little experiment.

You'll deal with your emotions later (hopefully in the dorms), first you have got a ring that you need to figure out, about.

You have been thinking a lot.

You have been going through classes, blankly staring at the board while your mind remains somewhere else. On the ring, to be very specific. It hasn't been off your mind for a single moment.

Until now of course, as you find yourself in front of Jungkook's class once again. Why? Because you missed your art class and now you need to take a picture of his so that you can complete your sketch.

Although this isn't ideal, you think it's still better than having to be battling your thoughts in the middle of a classroom.

You have to wait for a few minutes until the bell rings. As students start coming out, your heartbeat increases and your hands start getting clammy. However, you aren't as nervous as you were before, because now your focus isn't solely on Jungkook. Somewhere at the back of your mind is the ring.

When you spot Jungkook, he's surrounded by a few of his friends. You clear your throat and put up a facade of confidence, before walking up to him. When he notices you, a confused frown appears on his face.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" You ask, with eyes as blank as they can be.

Jungkook nods and tells his friends that he will join them in a minute before turning back to you. "Wassup?"

"I could not attend today's class, I had to leave midway because I wasn't feeling well. But I need to complete the sketch so I will have to take a picture of yours." You say in a single breath, letting it all out. The longer you remain under Jungkook's gaze the more you find yourself willing to hide. For a moment, you forgot how powerful his gaze can be and how small it can make you feel. It would be fair to say that now the ring is pretty much out of your mind and all you're focused on is getting out of here as quickly as possible.

"Have you talked about it to your professor?" He shoots another question. He does not mean to sound judgemental but you look like someone who's highly cautious about their grades and who would do anything to maintain them. Who knows, maybe you are here asking him without actually referring it to your professor.

"Of course, I have," involuntarily, a scoff escapes your lips. For the first time, you feel a bit of anger towards the boy. How dare he think that you would be here asking him about it without consulting with your professor first? That would be highly immoral as that would be cheating and unfair to the other students. It's also about his tone of query, it did not sound like a genuine question. Rather one, where he seemed to have formed his own opinion beforehand.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at your offended stance and finds amusement in it. "Cool then, you can take a picture but what do I get in return?"

Your anger is replaced by surprise and mild panic. You don't have anything you could give to him in return. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'll tell you what, art girl, I'm currently in the mood for some tacos," Jungkook answers, giving you a hint of what exactly it is that he wants.

Realisation clicks and then your face falls. Shit, you'll have to spend more time with him in the name of bribing him. Your stomach churns at the thought and a new wave of anxiety rolls over you. How long are you going to manage to be in his presence without experiencing the same mental breakdown you did a few hours ago?

Unfortunately, if you have to complete your assignment, you will have to spend some more time with Jungkoo–

Jungkook!

The name loudly echoes in your mind.

Jeon Jungkook. He's the ideal man to put the ring on your finger.

Why?

Because he, never in his wildest dreams will consider you to be his dream woman. If after putting the ring on you, it somehow affects the way he views you, that will be no less than a miracle and proof that the ring indeed is magical.

Suddenly, you find yourself looking forward to treating him. A change in your body language which Jungkook notices.

"You know that's not me asking you on a date, right?" He asks with a clearly worried frown that you might mistake his words again.

Your heart shrinks at his comment. How lowly must he think of you? But you try to put that aside and give him a small smile. "Don't worry. I know."

It wasn't that difficult for both of you to find an empty classroom to click the picture in. You were once again overthinking and stressing about being alone with Jungkook but somehow the nonchalant way in which he removed his shirt, without a second thought, gave you enough courage to behave like a normal person. You're the only one who's stressing and making it out to be a big deal when everyone else is just doing fine.

You clicked your photo and now you're fulfilling your end of the deal aka bribing him aka paying for his tacos. While you're at it, it's only fair that you got a burger for yourself. You can't just sit there and watch him eat, things are already awkward enough for you.

As you and Jungkook chew on your food, he keeps swiping on his phone and you keep wondering what is the ideal way in which you can make him put the ring on you.

You can't just ask him to do it directly. You have already made a fool out of yourself before, you can't do that again.

But what other options do you have?

Jungkook feels your intense stare on the side of his face and sighs. Guess, he will have to make some conversation. It's rude to make you pay for the food and not even put some effort into making a conversation with you.

He locks his phone and puts it in his pocket. "So what exactly happened when you weren't feeling well? Like a headache? A stomach ache?"

His words snap you out of your train of thought and it takes a few moments to register his words. When they do, you can't help but notice the irony. The very person who caused your mental breakdown is asking about it, with zero clues about the impact his words and actions have had on you. But then he's not to be blamed, your mind reminds you. He only spoke the truth. Sooner or later, someone might have told you the very same thing and caused the bubble of your daydreams to pop.

"Nothing serious was just feeling heavily nauseous," you say with a shrug, wanting to keep your answer short so that you don't have to recall the events.

A small crease forms on his forehead. If you were feeling nauseous, what on earth are you doing eating a burger now? It's only been what, three hours since art class? You should not be eating junk food three hours from when you were feeling nauseous, it will make things worse. He knows it from his own experience and the memory of it causes him to wince.

Noticing that there's a look of displeasure on his face, you quickly attempt to divert the question elsewhere, in fear of what he might have to say.

"Where did you get that shirt from?" You blurt out but then smack yourself mentally at the absurdity of the question. Who the fuck asks where they got a plain white shirt from? They are available everywhere!

"This?" He asks as if making sure you're talking about the shirt he's wearing. When you nod, confirming he shrugs. "I might be wrong but I think it's from Target."

You look elsewhere in embarrassment when you reply out a hum. But it's when you're looking around that you notice a woman wiping her hands on a tissue paper. The sight causes an idea to pop into your head.

"But why are you asking where my shirt is from?"

"Nothing, the shirt just looks like it's made of good quality fibre." you chuckle awkwardly as your thumb fiddles with the ring and gradually loosens it enough so that it can come out easily.

Jungkook squints his eyes in suspicion as he leans forward to observe you. "This shirt could not be made of cheaper quality fibre."

"Hehe," you say (yes, you literally say hehe) with a wince. "That aside, can you help me put this ring on?"

You point to the golden ring that now lies on the table surface and then point to your greasy right hand, in an attempt to explain why you can't put it on yourself.

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn't think much of it. He picks the ring up with his left hand and wordlessly asks which finger you wear it on. You lift your ring finger to give your answer and moments later, he's gliding the ring on your finger.

When Jungkook looks up at you, he finds that his vision has turned blurry and the harder he tries to focus, the more a splitting headache appears on the right side of his brain. He puts his hands on his head in hopes that it would give him some comfort but it doesn't help at all.

Your brows furrow in concern when you see the uncomfortable look in his eyes. "Jungkook, are you okay?"

Your voice faintly reaches his ears but the words do not register and he definitely does not manage to respond.

"Jungkook?"

The voices start fading out and his eyes start getting droopy.

"Jungkook!"

That's the last thing he hears before he blanks out completely.

Permanent Taglist:

@bloodline1632 @embrace-themagic @jeonsorchid @fragmentof-indiffernce @royallyjjk @jeonninja @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @blairscott @jungkookslittlebun

Series taglist:

@youremyjinearth @charcutetaerie @hunbun07 @jyupuff @rosieatron @armydgirl @heartjiminie @leedoesntknaur @j3oooonsnsns @teteschim @azur3s @berryonasummerevening

#Jungkook x Reader #Jungkook angst #Jungkook love triangle au #Jungkook college au #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook au #Fuckboi Jungkook #Jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #Model au #BTS ff #BTS au #Jungkook imagines #Jungkook x OC

[weird-dere-writes]

okay so like, of course, we're currently coming to the end of the first semester of our final year and Byakkun and I are both starting to become swamped with end-of-term papers, projects etc and preparations for the next semester.

we're seeing each other a little less then normal but still manage to check in via texts and brief moments on campus/the odd date. But it's at times like this that I tend to need to draw on other's support more, to avoid overthinking etc.

I know Byakkun is busy so I try not to bother him more than usual (even though he's of the 'it's unfair that we laughed together but you cried alone' type beat)

and one time when you and I are hanging out, I confess that I miss him and feel bad that work is so all-consuming but I don't want to be so demanding when we're at such a critical point

This song came on while I was writing this response and I think it fits the vibes so well 🥹

Oh my poor, tired, love 🥺.

When you tell me how you’re feeling, I immediately go to hug you close. My hold is gentle, but is still firm enough to let you know I’m here.

I’ve noticed as of late how preoccupied you’ve been. Not necessarily distant, but just swamped.

Admittedly, I had been a little worried about you. Every time i checked on you, you seemed to be working on things. I had wondered if you were even getting any rest. I couldn’t wait for a rest period to come any faster for you, truly.

I feel the way you shiver in my arms, eyes beginning to shine with tears. I’m trying to reassure you with quiet murmurs.

“I’m sorry life is bringing you so much stress right now. Even more so, I feel bad it’s keeping you and your love apart. But I’m more than sure he misses you just as much as you miss him, if not more. I know you worry about being a bother, but I think you should tell him how you feel.”

I’m sure I didn’t know him to the extent you or Ichigo did, but I know Byakkun is considerate enough to do what he can for you regardless of the struggles along the way. I know that he would never see your presence as an intrusion. I try to remind you that you are not a burden adding to his workload. You are the love of his life. And that it’s already in his heart to wanna be there for you when you need him.

But he has to know you need him in order for him to be there :(((( <3.

Byakuya, similar to you has been working in over time. Not only on his grad work, but also for his little class he teaches, and for the tasks he does when working with the organization in charge of Ichigo’s internship. When the two guys work together, Ichigo takes note of how… frazzled Byakkkun has been. And he makes it a point to keep checking in with him to make sure he’s okay.

At some point, when Ichi and Byakkun get some downtime, Byakuya straight up tells Ichigo he feels like he is losing his mind hardly being able to see you amongst all this chaos. But he knows you have enough on your plate. That your academic crazies are probably going extra hard without trying to fit him in between constant study sessions, revisions, exams, meetings with professors.

And Ichigo tells him something similar to what I tell you. But still, thought Byakkun knows he’s right, his brain is so fried he feels like he doesn’t know how to go about rectifying this. So Ichigo tells him that he’s gonna help him figure it out. He grabs a piece of paper and a pen, gives it to Byakuya, asks for his schedule. When he’s in class, when he’s studying, when he’s working on his thesis, when he’s eating, everything. And once Ichi has this information he is texting me.

We begin to make plans to help y’all out, so you don’t have to think about anything. You can save all your energy to your academic pursuits and we can handle all the rest.

Essentially Ichi and I work together to schedule events in which y’all can spend time together simply vibing. Taking little tidbits from conversations wit you both and brainstorming ideas to fulfill those needs in a way that brings both your brains back down to earth.

You mention one day you wish you had something to warm you up as you chug water to keep yourself working diligently. The next day after you’re out of class for the day, I’m picking you up and dropping you off at a small lounge somewhere on campus. Inside awaits a cozy atmosphere with fairy lights, blankets, and your choice of coffee and hot cocoa. There’s a projector set up to watch whatever you please for the next few hours and Byakuya is already there waiting.

Byakuya murmurs to himself about getting some fresh air while scribbling down notes for something. Ichigo is texting me about places with nature you two can go to. Byakkun’s next day is packed, but the day after that is when Ichigo grabs Byakkun and drives him somewhere toward the edge of town. Waiting by a booth nearby where he’s dropped off it me and you.

Ichi and I paid for your fair to walk this trail filled with flowers, lush trees, a bridge overlooking a small pond with koi, zen gardens, and fresh fruit from stands at certain stopping points. Once you two are together and told what’s up I hop in the car with Ichi and leave y’all to it. We come to get you when you message us you’re ready to go.

Stuff like that :3.

Y’all have helped us so much, so we’re more than happy to help shape more self care and quality time with your partner into your hectic and almost impossible seeming schedule. We are also making sure y’all are getting your meals in and getting your rest and all the like. Until this hellish period calms down, we are here for you, and we hope we can help you both to be there more for each other without fear uwu.

I kith you 😘💋

#byakujas ⛵️💛 #ft #ichidere #burnishedcrown 🌸 #jas n twy's college au 🎓 #twy’s inbox 💌

[beautyandthebetes]

Diabetes asks: 1, 12, 17

I am soooo sorry I never saw this! I usually use the app and I just thought I’d get this as a note but I guess not 🤷‍♀️ so here we go!

1. How old were you when you were diagnosed? I was 22 and in DKA for who knows how long, but it got bad fast after I started working in a hospital and was surrounded by germs all the time

12. What’s your best diabetes story? That’s a hard one cause it depends on the mood of the conversation! But let me tell the sweetest (pun intended): when I was first diagnosed, my boyfriend of five years was getting ready to go to his final semester of college - his car was already packed when he came to see me in the ICU. He was 20, and I had already come to the conclusion that it wasn’t fair to him that he should be saddled to me and a lifelong disease with no cure in sight, when he was healthy and had his whole life ahead of him. When he came to see me and I explained what had happened and how my life was going to permanently change, I told him that even though I loved him more than anything, I loved him enough to understand if he couldn’t handle this and wanted to walk away. And I meant every word - I would’ve been heartbroken, but I didn’t want such a drastic change to come between us and just make it a bitter, messy breakup later if he felt obligated to stay just because we’d been together so long already. He said he understood, but he loved me just as much and said he wanted to stay. He wanted to help me and spend the rest of our lives together, whatever happened. I was so relieved that I wasn’t going to be alone, and he learned everything I did as I settled into my new lifestyle. He’s saved my life more times than I can count, and now he’s my husband ❤️

17. Favorite finger to test on? I use a cgm so I don’t have to often, but my right index or middle finger is my go to. I never test my left hand because if I do it hurts when I play guitar.

Hope you see this @typeoneninja and I’ll reblog the ask post in case anyone else wants to join!

#beauty and the betes #t1diabetes #t1dlookslikeme #t1d #t1diabetic #type 1 diabetic #actually diabetic #answered asks #ask me anything

[ionlytalktodogs]

Anyway time to rant about my thoughts on wheelchairs to my 0 followers

So my doctor basically said I’m going to be in constant excruciating pain for the rest of my life and need to use a wheelchair and was like “but exercise anyway” (even though exercise is literally the thing he said would make me worse but okay-)

But anyway it’s hard to like! Think about that! It’s not that it feels like giving up…it’s just that it feels like attention seeking? Which is bullshit. I’m not going to make my life 100x harder just for attention. But that’s really what it felt like. I mean that’s what the cane feels like too. Because honestly? I can stand and walk. Physically, I can. It’s excruciatingly horrible and makes my life a living nightmare but TECHNICALLY…I can do it. And as long as I TECHNICALLY can, abled people will Never leave me alone. Specifically family and doctors. As long as I can TECHNICALLY stand and/or walk, they will do everything in their power to keep me from using a wheelchair. To convince me I’m just an attention seeker and I’m being offensive to people who actually need wheelchairs.

It just fucking sucks cuz I can’t just…live my life. Instead I’ve got these people breathing down my necks, judging me 24/7. If I was on my own I wouldn’t feel so shitty about using a wheelchair but because I’ve got my parents breathing down my neck saying shit like “isn’t it better to just not leave the house rather than use a cane/chair?” I can’t feel normal about it. I can’t be like “yeah this is okay I could get used to this” because they’re there to tell me nope! It’s not normal! It’s wrong and bad :)

And yeah I’m moving out soon and I’ll have my own money and my own life, okay. But my dorm isn’t really wheelchair accessible. I guess it is if I have an extremely nice dorm mate who’s super cool about it and doesn’t mind it taking up a huge amount of space but like…these are very recently former high schoolers we’re talking about. When have you ever known high schoolers to be nice and understanding about anything /hj

I just don’t think most abled high schoolers understand the concept of “yes I can walk but I’m in pain all the time so I use a chair but also sometimes I’m in less pain so I use a cane” like…if full grown adults don’t understand this shit I don’t expect a high schooler to. And I just don’t want to live my life at school with constant questioning, or worse constant “helpfulness.”

And then there’s the money. My health insurance declared my ability to walk as “nonessential healthcare.” I have a moving-out fund that I was going to use but since I have the college situation figured out, I don’t need that fund. It’s like right between being not enough for like…a car or something useful like that but it’s too much to spend on something unimportant. Especially because I spent so long working so hard to save up. But I guess I could use it for a chair. But…what if I don’t use the chair? And then I’ve just wasted like $500??? That I worked so hard for YEARS to save up????? (It’s less money bc it’s manual, god knows I could NEVER afford an automatic chair)

Or worse…what if I use it a lot. What if I get like…I don’t know…”addicted” to the feeling of not being in pain all the time. What if I never walk again?

BUT WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO WALK? Why should I have to be in pain? Just because I can technically walk I should be in pain constantly just so everyone else is comfortable? I should live a nightmare just to be palatable?

But my school has SHIT accessibility. The elevators are slow as hell and kinda narrow, weirdly. And if I need any accommodations I have to schedule a conference with the accessibility counselor, who is booked up until next year. You know, my second semester at college. :| Worse even, they require “evidence” and they want me to argue why I think I’m disabled and they can randomly decide they don’t agree, even if I have a doctor’s note. If you’ve never had to argue with someone over what’s going on in your own body, I envy you.

I just wish I could be who I am. If it weren’t for…people…I would just use a wheelchair and live my freaking life. But nooooo I’ve got to deal with people constantly questioning why I exist. Just leave me beeeee aaaahhhhhhhhh

#very long post #I’m just stressed out #I wish I could just…exist #disability #disabled #mobility aid #cane user #ableism

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Coup De Foudre” [ 4.13 ]♮Part 1

RECAP

Over a shot of Jack and Eric embracing after they said “I do,” officially husbands:

Riley, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

Well, we’ve arrived yet again at the end of another season. To deeply and effectively recap the entire season would take a lot of words (like, almost one million of them at this point, in case you missed the word count this season has crawled up to -- and if you didn’t and still kept reading along without hesitation, you are just as insane as we are and we are having the best time), but we’ll try to hit all the essential points while keeping it (mostly) short and (sort of) sweet.

The ensemble began this season setting off on their post-Adams adventures, whether that meant college, or gap years, or jumping straight into the belly of the industry beast. Through highs and lows, mistakes and magic, and every possible emotion one experiences in the growing pains of the end of adolescence, we’ve ended up here -- on the brink of ever more change and the horizon of the rest of their lives.

For Riley, this means determining whether or not to seriously commit to leaving NYU after an arguably successful, but perhaps not personally fulfilling, freshman year. She’s discovered many other interests beyond musical theater, and maintains devoted interest in Lucas, who she wants to follow to California when he leaves New York to attend UC Davis.

Riley: It was my decision to leave. Lucas had no influence over it. It was my call. And I don’t regret the choice I made. So you can save your concern. I’m fine.

Which yes, to confirm, Lucas is finally going to Davis. After his father’s illness derailed his plans last year, biding his time and holding out hope has paid off. With Kenneth in the ground and the past -- theoretically -- behind him, Lucas now has nothing standing in the way of pursuing his own dreams that took so long to materialize. And even better, he might just have his favorite person there with him to continue the journey… if he can convince himself that’s a good idea.

They’re not the only two trying to determine where they’re going to spend the next few years. After a grueling two semesters at Turner Academy, vying for a transfer spot against strong competition like Gia Valdez and rival-turned-paramour-turned-not-sure-what-now Vanessa Johnson, Zay has found himself torn between dual opportunities -- potential admission to the dance program, or a role in a touring company starting at the end of the summer. He hasn’t always been enamored with the academic aspects of the Academy, and the tour might be much more his speed… but it also means leaving New York, for who knows how long, to travel the country.

Leaving New York when Charlie has finally returned, seemingly for good, and the two of them have finally found their way back to each other.

Charlie: Obviously, I don’t want you to be hundreds or thousands of miles away. I don’t think either of us wants that. But we’ve worked with less ideal circumstances before. We’ve already torn ourselves up once or twice. Zay: Yeah, and I’d really, really like to not do it again. I want you. I want the relationship, the commitment, all of it. I want that with you. That’s what I don’t want to risk.

With words of devotion like that, it’s hard to fathom walking away… especially since Charlie is almost guaranteed to be in the city for college. He’s yet to reveal where he’s going to school, but that appears to be the plan, and he has finally seemed to land on a path forward that feels personally true to his heart and exciting for his soul. Being out of the closet and more comfortably himself certainly helps that effort, although not without lasting challenges -- recent ones he hasn’t had much of a chance to actually confront or unpack, if he intends to at all.

Charlie, desperate: Mom, this isn’t -- I’m still me! I’m still your son -- Eleanor: Don’t say that to me! Stop lying!

In the realm of rotating scholarly pursuits, Nigel is also weighing a leap of his own, strongly considering an attempt to transfer to the UK to continue his acting degree. Only there are obstacles in his way, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work out… and he totally flubbed the telling-his-girlfriend part of the equation, leaving him and Jade in limbo as to what their future together -- and apart -- might hold.

Even so, they’re in better shape than Farkle and Isa, who have endured a whirlwind of romantic upheaval in the last few weeks. They went from not being sure how to handle the distance and drifting slowly apart, to clawing their way back to stable ground just as Farkle got tangled up with a toxic boyfriend and Isa let go of their girlfriend and accepted their descent into pining madness. Then there was the tension, of many varieties, ultimately culminating in an old love letter falling out of a borrowed novel and turning everything upside down.

Isa: Because I needed to know! I needed to know how you felt. If you had told me, if I had seen -- I mean, if I had fucking known -- Farkle: Then what? What would you have done, Isa?

From there followed fast and fierce intimacy, physical and emotional, often spurred by the heat of the moment and complicated feelings of the day. But when the moment came to articulate it properly, when it mattered, Isa fumbled -- and Farkle left once again feeling like the second-string nobody.

Farkle: I just need you to tell me, Isa. Please. [ voice cracking ] Please… look at me, and tell me what you did over the phone. Tell me that I’m not losing my mind. That this is worth something. [ with weight ] That it’s real. Isa: I can’t.

So prospects aren’t looking great for Isa and Farkle; nor Isa and Maya, for that matter. That’s far from Maya’s only battle, though. After what seemed like a meteoric and blessed rise within the ranks of label Global Beat -- in spite of Josh Matthews’ disdain and later complex feelings about her presence in the domain he’s been slogging through for years -- all of that came crashing down when her producer Justin Miller took advantage of her. Thankfully, she escaped the worst possibilities, but the emotional scars are still bleeding and the wounds to her budding career may be even deeper. She and Josh have been gifted one last shot to potentially keep themselves afloat, to hold on and push forward into a new era… but all that depends on whether Maya even wants to try.

Yindra is facing a similar dilemma in Hollywood, waiting to hear back on whether she has been offered a position in the new girl group being formed by rival record label, Jupiter Records. At the end of last episode, she had just received word, though the verdict remained elusive… and regardless of what they say, it’s unclear whether Yindra actually wants this job or not. It’s a foot in the door, certainly, but the process to get it has been full of demeaning experiences and uncomfortable compromises and potentially crazy coworkers in the making. 

So many plates are spinning, about to balance or crash to pieces, as the ensemble marches into the finale episode. By the end, much will be determined, for better or for worse…

Oh, and yeah, Jack and Eric got married. Just in case you missed it.

Rae: Well, by the power vested in me, I am so, so happy to pronounce you husband and husband. Please, gentlemen, kiss your man.

So even in the darkest times, we just keep looking for the light. Hopefully our cast can do the same… as the curtain rises on our final installment of Season 4…

End of recap.

It’s the season finale of our penultimate season, so you know we must -- and will -- start things off with a bang. This time, as we’re looking towards the horizon of what’s next, we’re also giving a small nod to how far we’ve come. As the orchestra brightly swells, launching us into the episode --

EXT. PARIS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One Day More (Season 4 Edition)” as performed by Les Misérables Original London Cast Recording || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

The famous Les Mis track brings us in, though it sounds much more in the style of the triumphant, brilliant opening notes of “At the End of the Day.” Almost like the toll of wedding bells as they rope us back into the world of AMBITION. We swoop down from the skyline of Paris and the camera races through the streets, taking in the beautiful scenery once again… before we ease to stop outside a familiar hotel.

As the camera pans up, up, up the side of the building, and the music builds to a crescendo, instead of diving into the deep end of “At the End of the Day,” it blends seamlessly into the opening notes of “One Day More.”

It’s a number we’ve had on AMBITION before. But four years have passed since then, and things are different. The times, they really are a-changin’...

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

And this is made immediately apparent by the fact that JOSH MATTHEWS, who didn’t occupy our story world as an actual entity until this season, takes the opening lines. He approaches the hotel window we’ve stopped outside of, the camera moving in through the glass as he starts to sing.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - JOSH’S ROOM - DAY

He sings through the first handful of lines, before the camera flips --

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - BATHROOM - DAY

And MAYA HART picks up the latter half of their verse, singing about the same situation. She’s surrounded by steam, wrapped in a towel and at her most bare -- no make-up, no glamor to hide behind -- and giving herself a difficult truth as she looks into the foggy mirror.

These suits who seem to hang us dry Surely won’t give us a second try One day more…

Whatever she decides to do this week -- if she decides to do it -- might just be her last chance.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - ROSE GARDEN - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER takes the next line, already up and wandering by himself through the hotel garden in the misty morning air. As he continues to sing, the screen splits, blending ZAY BABINEAUX into the image beside him as he sings the same shared sentiments from their hotel room.

Tomorrow you’ll be worlds away And yet, with you, my world has started…

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - DAY

In sharp contrast, FARKLE MINKUS is not in such a romantic mood. He takes Eponine’s desolate musings as he frantically packs his suitcase, stuffing it haphazardly. Although everyone is flying home later that evening, he isn’t waiting around. By the time he slams his suitcase shut and zips it with a frustrated flourish, he seems ready to basically flee out the door.

What a life I might’ve known But they never saw me there!

INT. PARIS HOTEL - VARIOUS - DAY

The song continues to unfold amongst the ensemble, each character asking relevant questions that they’ve been hovering on all season. Does RILEY MATTHEWS follow LUCAS JAMES KINSLEY, or let him fly free without her? Does YINDRA AMINO follow through with the girl group, if that’s what that fateful email at the end of last episode invited her to do? Does NIGEL CHEY stay, stick it out at NYU, or dare to forge a new path?

At least two people seem to have things figured out. JACK HUNTER and ERIC MATTHEWS meet each other at the top of the lobby stairs, Jack taking Eric’s hand after he asks him a simple question.

Will you take your place with me?

Yes. The answer is always yes. But for everyone else, the decisions are tougher, and the clock is running down on their chance to make those calls. The time is now, the day is here…

Even JADE BEAMON gets her own moment. She throws open the window to her hotel room, shouting -- not quite singing, but we’ll give it to her -- the titular phrase out into the cool morning air.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

Jack and Eric join RAE M.G. in the lobby, who greets them enthusiastically. She leads them towards the doors as she takes her verse, definitely carrying the most changed lyrics of the number to suit the needs of AMBITION -- and summing up the thesis of the episode pretty succinctly.

One day more to revolution Do you hear that drawing near? It’s the future, loud and clear, boys Come embrace the next frontier!

If she insists. She throws the doors open, inviting Jack and Eric to step out first. They do so, the three of them heading off for a brisk morning stroll.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - BALLROOM - DAY

MORGAN MATTHEWS and CORY MATTHEWS do the favor of taking the more comedic bit, taking on the Thérnadier lines as they scavenge the venue from the wedding last night for surprise prizes. There were a lot of drunk people, and they haven’t finished cleaning up yet -- who knows what treasures they might find that people dropped! They were sloppy, that’s on them!

Light-hearted as it is, even so, there’s a bit of foreboding to their lyrics that can’t be shaken off. If we’re talking about what the future might have in store…

Most of them are goners So they won't miss much!

INT. PARIS HOTEL - VARIOUS - DAY

The ensemble makes their way out into the hallways, up and down the hotel -- some on a mad dash to the exit, like Farkle; others heading upstairs towards the rooftop -- while singing the harmony of the bridge. 

Before they, too, head up the stairs to the roof, Lucas turns out and waits for Riley to catch up. He starts up the stairs then holds out his hand, making sure she doesn’t get left behind.

Riley looks up at him, fondness written all over her face, and she knows there isn’t really a decision to make. She made it already. In her heart, it’s been settled from the start.

My place is here I fight with you

So she takes Lucas’s hand, who mirrors her smile, and lets him lead the way up the stairs.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - DAY

Then we’re in a race to the finish line, easing out from starting close on Charlie as he bursts through the lobby doors with his rendition of the title refrain. Through the windows, and along the street, and slowly populating on the rooftop, our entire ensemble congregates for the grand finale. Expertly overlapping, harmonizing and interweaving their voices, as they’ve become very skilled at over the four seasons.

They come back together in unison as they hit their final marks, belting out the final repetitions of the chorus with their eyes towards the horizon. Looking towards the future, whatever tomorrow has in store -- whether they’re ready for it or not.

One more dawn, one more day…

Then they bring it to a climactic conclusion, the ensemble at its full power as they welcome the new day.

Brace yourselves. Tomorrow is here now -- and it’s time to decide what exactly it may hold.

Cue title sequence.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - ISA ROOM - DAY

ISA DE LA CRUZ pulls back the curtains of their hotel room, letting in the morning light. They take a long look at Paris outside, trying to appreciate it and let it clear their buzzing mind.

Doesn’t help much, but it was worth a shot. Instead, they turn back to their bed, where they’re diligently packing. Isa picks up their phone from next to their suitcase when a text lights up the lock screen.

It’s from Dylan, who apparently already left with Asher to extend their European trip to see the Orlando home country of Italy. The first text is to their group chat with Riley.

“we made it to florence (pugh)!! ash was NOT a fan of the overnight accommodations on this train LOLOL”

“will send pics when we make it to Romaaa”

Then, separately, he texts Isa one-on-one.

“hey hey, i hope you’re feeling better this morning and were able to get a good night’s sleep! i’m sure ur still overthinking everything and self-blaming and stuff, so just your morning reminder that you are not irredeemable and you can figure out how to get thru this. just be honest, say ur piece, and advocate for what you want. it’s not easy, but you can do it. text / call if u need!!”

Dylan is probably very well correct. Isa knows that communication can solve these issues they’ve made for themselves, and they have to be mature enough to navigate it. If they actually care about Farkle, they need to at least try. Whether or not Farkle will be receptive is the x factor they can’t account for -- and what makes it so scary.

Not to mention, how are they supposed to articulate how they feel, or what they want, when failing to know how to do so is what caused this disaster in the first place?

EXT. BOUTIQUE CAFE - ROOFTOP - DAY

They’ll have to wait to make their best effort, though, because Farkle is no longer here. That’s what Maya relays as she enjoys tea on the private rooftop terrace of one of the trendiest Parisian cafés, where Rae has arranged for them to have breakfast.

Maya: Thanks for agreeing to sit down with me. Rae: Please. I love a mentor moment. And I loved that you asked -- shows great initiative on your part. You have the hustler’s instinct, I sense it in you. [ off her proud smile ] I must admit, I’m surprised your lanky friend didn’t tag along. You two seemed pretty attached at the hip. Maya: Oh, yeah. He would’ve liked to, I’m sure, but he had to leave. Rae: So fast? He must’ve booked the first flight out. I know most of y’all are stretching the most out of this little adventure. Maya: Mm. Yeah, he… well. Personal emergency.

That’s one way to put it. Maya takes a pointed sip of her tea, buttoning the topic. In any case, Rae is happy to chat just two gals just as well. Whatever Maya wants to know -- about the media business, beauty care, personal problems, Rae will do her best to answer. Fire away.

For starters, Maya has to get one thing off her chest.

Maya: I cannot believe you are good friends with Principal Hunter. Well, former principal. Your glamor, and starpower, next to his… it’s just bizarre. In my opinion. Rae: If I were in your shoes, only knowing him as a stuffy suit-jacketed administrator, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. But that’s the funny thing about time and perception. Once upon a time, he wasn’t so formal, and I wasn’t nearly so high profile -- well, externally. Always was spiritually.

But to be honest, that’s one of the biggest pieces of advice Rae thinks she can give to stay grounded in any fame-centric industry. Holding onto the folks who knew you before. So that something keeps you rooted in reality, reminds you where you came from and what it took to get here.

Rae: Helps keep perspective, and remember not to take things for granted. And also, your boundaries. If I’m debating whether or not to take a job, and the concept makes me wonder “would I really want my pals from college cheer to see this,” then I should think long and hard about it. If I’m not naturally confident in my willingness to defend the project, to anyone, but especially those who know me best, it’s likely not worth it.

Not only that, but it’s the people who’ve known you longest who are best equipped to call you on your bull. In this industry, just like Hollywood, there are plenty of fairweather friends and shallow souls who are all too eager to dive into the ecstasy and exhilaration of the business without considering the consequences. Old friends, real friends, care about you enough as a person to hold the line and help you more seriously consider your choices.

Rae: And believe me, in industries like mine, that can be a lifesaver.

Unfortunately, Maya already knows the feeling. She manages a smile.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - YINDRA ROOM - DAY

Yindra is facing similar questions. She’s looking at the email from Jupiter Records again, reclined on her hotel bed.

“Dear Yindra,

It is our pleasure to officially offer you one of five coveted spots in our brand new girl group endeavor. This was a highly competitive, difficult process, and we appreciate your dedication and resolve to see it through to the end. Ultimately, your presence, charm, and undeniable talent set you apart, and we are thrilled to extend this opportunity to you.

While we understand you may need some time to think about this offer, there is much to do, so we ask that you respond with whether you’d like to proceed with contract negotiations ASAP. As you know, spots in this project are limited, and we hope you’ll respect our time in putting it all together.

Congratulations, and cheers!”

So there it is. She was offered a chance to be in the group. A new path has officially thrown open the gates to reveal itself to her.

But does she take it? Is it something she actually wants to do? Does she want to tie herself to this wagon for who knows how long -- especially since, as far as she can tell, she has no way of knowing who else they offered spots to. Does she want to spend the next four to five years hanging out with TikTok sensation Madysin May?

Lucas, pre-lap: It’s just a lot to think about. I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to decide.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - R&L ROOM - DAY

Lucas’s comment is decidedly sarcastic, as he and Riley are in the midst of packing their suitcases. But he has to decide what shirt he won’t be packing so he can wear it to brunch, which is apparently such a challenging choice.

Or, more truthfully, he is socially burnt out and is dragging his feet getting ready as long as possible to buy time. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a cute romper and cardigan combination, just finishing fluffing her freshly brushed hair. She gives him a playful head tilt, though she doesn’t bother to hide the way her eyes linger on his shirtless torso.

Riley: It’s Jack, Eric, and Isa. Not exactly high stakes. Lucas: No, no. It’s Jack, Eric, Isa, and their brand new family. I’m not saying I have any problem with these people, but it’s a lot more work having to act normal.

Riley rolls her eyes. She comes over to join him, picking through his suitcase and finding a shirt that works. Plain white, three-quarter sleeves; simple and reliable. She holds it up against his frame.

Riley: Go with this. Pairs well with jeans, brings out the gold in your complexion. But it’s lighter than your usual shade, so they won’t so easily pick up that you’re a lazy rendition of new-wave Goth. Lucas: Gee, thanks. Think I’d be more offended if I knew what that meant. Riley: Everything I ever say to you is a compliment only said with the utmost affection. [ as he takes the shirt and puts it on ] Not to mention that shirt makes your arms look incredible. Irrelevant to them, though, that’s just for me.

But of course. Lucas shakes his head, adjusting the shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Riley gets a good, appreciative look, beaming when he holds out his arms to get her approval. Good?

Riley: Perfect. What a beautiful first impression you’ll make. Lucas: All thanks to you. Riley: All thanks to me. [ giving him a brisk kiss ] What would you do without me?

That is the question, isn’t it, Riley… one she has decided she doesn’t want to learn the answer to. She won’t ever have to know, because in her mind, they’re taking the next step forward together. She wouldn’t want to miss a thing.

Lucas doesn’t necessarily want to know the answer to that question either… but boy, has he been thinking a lot more about it now. Now that he knows Riley has made up her mind, and he has to figure out how to respond. He wishes he didn’t know. He wishes Farkle never told him.

But at the same time, he knows he should be glad. Farkle gave him the greatest gift there is -- he bought him time. Time to consider, to stop this if he finds the right way. He can keep Riley from making such a huge mistake, all over him -- which really isn’t much to risk everything for. But can he? Should he?

Damn it, does he want to stop it?

Riley, oblivious to his inner debate, slings her purse over her shoulder and offers him a smile. She extends a hand to him.

Riley: Ready?

Wouldn’t it be nice for the days to come to be just like this? With this shared comfort, intimacy, a natural and well-earned rapport? Nothing about that has to change. He doesn’t have to do anything. He can, and should, embrace Riley’s desire and see what they can do with a new world together.

That could be enough. Couldn’t it be that simple?

INT. PARIS HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

Back from her tea with Rae, Maya makes her way back into the hotel just as Josh is coming down to the lobby. He spots her from the staircase and picks up the pace, jogging and skipping a few steps so he can catch her before she heads for the elevators.

Mostly because he has an update. He got more details from Floyd about the specifics of his conversation with Jupiter Records, and what exactly they’re giving Josh as they decide whether to bring him on as a producer. Essentially, they’re giving him the coming week to provide them a portfolio -- along with something brand new that they can scoop up if they decide they like it.

Josh: But they weren’t much more specific than that. So how we want to drop it, what we want to make, that’s up to us -- I think that’s part of the challenge, honestly. A litmus test, to see if we have the momentum to make us worth picking up. Maya: We?

Right. Better clarify that too, while they’re at it. After a beat, Josh nods.

Josh: I meant what I said last night. I want you to be my client -- if you’ll have me. And if this last portfolio drop is my one shot to prove what I’m capable of, then there is no wiser way to do that than by collaborating with you. I think the last six months has made that abundantly clear.

Whatever their careers have in store, right now, it’s at least clear that the two of them have something special. Call it what you will -- a spark, musical chemistry, the same form of mental illness -- but they get each other. And when they work together, great stuff comes out of it.

Maya knows that. She felt it too.

Maya: I appreciate that. And I agree, it could be a smart move. For both of us.

Josh nods emphatically.

However… Maya slows her roll, treading cautiously, as showing weakness isn’t her forte. But Josh has already seen her at her lowest, by happenstance, so if she can be honest with anyone…

Maya: I just… haven’t fully decided what I want to do yet. After… everything that’s happened. Josh: … oh.

She’s not completely opposed to the idea. Not at all. Even just thinking about the possibilities is putting some fire back in her spirit. She just… isn’t sure.

Maya: Could I have a couple days to think about it? Josh: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Just… you know, sooner rather than later is better. Since we only have so long -- Maya: Right. Copy that. I respect a deadline.

She’ll let him know ASAP. Right now, she has to get moving -- she has other plans this afternoon before their flight back stateside…

INT. PARIS HOTEL - Z&C ROOM - DAY

Zay and Charlie, on the other hand, appear to be in no rush to go anywhere. They’re luxuriating in a lazy morning in their hotel room, half-dressed and sprawled in bed with different room service menu items spread out on trays across the strewn blankets. Sampling the best of the French cuisine before they go back home -- may as well, since they’re there at all!

Well, that’s mostly true, though Zay is being characteristically stubborn about some things. One of the small amuse-bouche-esque items on the tray he’s determined he has no interest in trying, just based off snap judgment, despite Charlie’s attempts to convince him otherwise.

Charlie: I’m telling you, you’ll like it. Looks can be deceiving. I’ve had it, and it’s good. Zay: Oh, well, worldly tastemaker Charles John Paul decrees it so. How could I say no? Charlie: Come on, don’t you trust me? Try a taste of something different. It’s good to get out of your comfort zone. Zay: That is one of the richest statements in the world, coming from you. Historically speaking. [ off his eye roll ] Besides, I think I’d rather taste some of the other things on this bed again…

He flirtatiously eyes Charlie’s lips, letting his hand trace leisurely along his forearm. Which most definitely sends a tingle up Charlie’s spine, but he insists on being brave and ignoring it because he’s trying to make a point. He reaches to grab one of the little quiche-like pastries.

Charlie: Come on, just one bite. Just to prove that I’m right. Zay: Wow. When did you get all tenacious? [ a beat ] Kinda hot, actually.

Stop making him blush, Zay, this is serious business! Charlie holds out the snack, right in front of his lips, then nudges him into taking a bite. Finally, Zay relents, mainly because Charlie is too darn cute not to. He lets Charlie feed it to him and takes a long moment to experience it, drawing it out for dramatic effect. Charlie raises his eyebrows expectantly.

All right, fair enough. He’s right. Zay swallows and hums.

Zay: Hell, okay, that was good.

See! Charlie holds his hands out, as if to say he told him so.

Charlie: Best thing you’ve had so far, right? Zay: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s stiff competition. And to be fair, I’d need to revisit all the past competitors to decide who the true victor is. [ with a smirk ] In fact, let me get a little refresher right now --

Zay sits up and takes Charlie’s face, pulling him into a kiss. The latter grins against his lips, not able to help himself.

Charlie: Well? Verdict? Zay: Mm… too close to call. Need more samples --

So he kisses him again, causing Charlie to laugh. One kiss becomes two, then another, growing more indulgent. It’s their last morning in Paris, and they’ve got nothing else to do -- what better way to make the most of the city of love?

That is, until Zay’s phone buzzes. He breaks from Charlie temporarily to glance at it, seeing Maya’s contact image light up the screen. Disinterested, he ignores it, going back to Charlie.

Charlie: Aren’t you going to answer? Zay: Um, no? Fuck that.

He’s got much better things to do right now. Charlie shakes his head, but doesn’t complain, returning his next kiss with equal enthusiasm.

The phone stops ringing; they keep kissing. Getting more wrapped up in each other…

Then the hotel phone rings, much louder and harder to ignore. Charlie jumps, and Zay growls, leaning away from him and stretching to pick up the phone off its cradle.

Zay, bluntly: What?

INT. PARIS HOTEL - F&M ROOM - DAY

Maya makes a face at his harsh greeting, utterly delighted to be bothering him. She can’t disguise the amusement in her voice. The conversation continues intercut between them.

Maya: My, my, my, so grouchy. Did you get up on the wrong side of le lit this morning, Zayby? Zay: What do you want? Maya: Or am I just interrupting something? Knowing your current rooming situation, I would’ve assumed you’d be in a better mood. Would’ve expected Charlie Gardner with his gay pixie dust to be better at lifting the spirits. Tell him hello for me, would you? Zay: I’m hanging up on you --

Wait, wait, no need to be so hasty! She wanted to tell him it’s time to get the hell out of bed -- assuming that’s where he still is. They only have so many hours left in Paris, and they shan’t be wasting them.

Maya: Besides, you promised me you’d go into the city with me today. Zay: When the hell did I say that? Maya: Yesterday. Before we went to bed. The reception was wrapping up, and we were in the elevator, and I was talking about the sights I wanted to see and telling you you’d surely want to see them too. Since, you know, we have a tasteful kinship and shared aestheticism for the dazzling. Zay: I don’t know that I’d be that generous. Maya: So I was telling you all about this, saying we should go tomorrow, and you were staring at Charlie Gardner between us with that demented Charlie-Gardner-specific look in your eyes --

Charlie can hear enough through the phone, and it is taking everything in him not to crack up. Zay gives him a look, lightly kicking at his legs with his foot.

Maya: And finally, before you and Charlie Gardner got off at your floor, you were like “sure, sure, whatever,” which, for legal purposes, is an agreement. Zay: For the love of God. Maya: No, just me. But I love that you value my companionship so much.

Zay slouches back against the pillows in exasperation, half-pulling one over his face.

Maya: So I’ll see you in the lobby in fifteen. I suppose you can invite Charlie Gardner along, if you must. I presume he doesn’t have anything better to do. Zay: I’m hanging up for real now. Maya: Kisses! See you soon! Zay: Ugh.

Zay tosses the phone back onto its cradle, flopping back down and fully suffocating himself with the pillow. Charlie pats his torso soothingly.

Zay: I hate her. Charlie: No, you don’t.

No, he doesn’t. Zay sighs dramatically, throwing the pillow to the side.

Zay: No, I don’t. That’s the worst fucking part.

Hey, that’s the beauty and burden of family. Charlie grins. He leans over and gives Zay an affectionate kiss, enough to sate him for now.

Charlie: Well, I guess we better get dressed then. Fifteen minutes is shorter than you think.

Yes, surely… but even so… Zay lets his gaze linger as Charlie sits up and leans over the side of the bed to retrieve his shirt. Soaking up the view…

Zay: Fucking hell. She’ll live.

Maya can wait just a little bit longer. Charlie glances over his shoulder just as Zay grabs him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back down into another kiss.

Charlie bursts into laughter, but obliges, letting Zay rope him back into sanctuary.

INT. PARIS RESTAURANT - TERRACE - DAY

As promised, the whole Isa clan is meeting with ZACHARY MACNAMARA and RUBY MACNAMARA for a pleasant brunch before travel sends them in differing directions. The mood is warm and cheerful, and given everyone was just polished up to their best for a wedding, no one is looking too scruffy like usual (and to Riley’s credit, that shirt she picked out does make Lucas look good -- especially those arms).

Even so, lest they get any misleading ideas of how composed the group of them are, Isa dissuades that as they go through the logic puzzle of trying to explain how this little tribe came to be.

Isa: So I guess technically it started with Jack admitting me into Adams, or whoever is in charge of all that -- Jack: I had a hand, yes. Eric: It’s a collaborative process building each class of freshmen. We try to consider a lot of factors -- application, of course, but also balance of strengths, skills, backgrounds… Jack: It takes weeks to get through it all. The actual meeting where we finalize the class usually lasts all day. I remember that year felt particularly long. Eric: But we pulled it together in the end. And I’d say we got a pretty special cohort out of it. Jack: For better or worse. Lucas: You sure created something all right…

Special, definitely. The rest is up for interpretation. Isa continues, undeterred, Zachary and Ruby listening in rapt fascination.

Isa: And then Jack decided to admit Lucas even though he didn’t apply, for confidential reasons, and this pissed everyone off basically as soon as they got to know Lucas. Because he didn’t make it a secret that he didn’t have that much interest in performing, and didn’t really care to be there.

Lucas shrugs, not denying it. Riley hides her amused smile behind her hand.

Jack: It’s a long story. Lucas: One even I only got in full about thirty hours ago. Isa: So we’re at this school, and everyone is crazy -- really, not joking -- and Jack and Eric are always fighting. Like, we rarely saw Jack that often as freshmen anyway -- Lucas: Speak for yourself. Isa: But any time we did and they were both there, it was like, obvious sparks. Definitely not agreeable. Ruby: Kind of like you and Farkle? The way you told us about your start as friends, at least.

Huh… yeah, maybe so. That reminder trips Isa up, but Jack and Eric keep the conversation going seamlessly.

Jack: We were not that bad. Isa/Lucas: Yes, you were. Eric: They’re exaggerating. Isa/Lucas: No, we’re not. Jack: We were professionals. Lucas: Barely. Isa: Hopefully I’ve painted a decent enough picture of the initial chaos. But somehow, in those first couple weeks, Lucas and I became friends. I think mainly because no one else wanted to be friends with us, and we both put people off, so it was just the two of us left at some point. Lucas: Special talent. Isa: But I guess that’s kind of why it worked. We didn’t really intimidate each other the way we did other people. So it just… worked out. And after that, it was pretty easy. That was pretty much the way of the world until sophomore year when Riley showed up. Lucas: And flipped everything upside down.

Yep, sure did -- and boy, are they all better for it. Riley beams, quickly directing it towards Lucas, who blushes next to her and dips his head down to hide his smile.

Ruby: And you befriended the loners here. Isa: For some reason. Still not sure I get why. Riley: [ with an eye roll ] They’re equally as charming today as they were then.

But no, the draw was easy for Riley. They felt like the most authentic people, albeit intimidating, and she was looking for a place to put her foot in the door and start to build community. In spite of their brusque personalities, that felt way more manageable with the techies than the cutthroat performers at that point.

Riley: They’re telling you part of the story, but what Isa is leaving out is that the techies just had this like… amazing energy. A little off-putting at first glance, won’t lie, but it only took about a day to realize that they were a tight-knit group of friends. They cared about each other, and they had each other’s backs, even with the varied personalities in their circle. I wanted that. And to get it, it seemed, I’d have to go through the leadership -- [ nudging Isa ] i.e., this one. Isa: That, and she had a thing for Lucas basically from day one. Riley: Um, hey now… Lucas: Again, no one is sure why.

From there, once she got her in, the rest is kind of like bizarre clockwork. It’s hard to even put into words, since living it felt so strange and overwhelming and at times so difficult they weren’t sure they’d make it out the other side. Suffice to say, it wasn’t easy to get to this place, sitting around this table sharing a meal after just celebrating one of the most important moments of their lives.

But they made it. Isa struggles to compose their twisted narrative into a comprehensible story, so Ruby does them the favor of skipping to the end.

Ruby: Well, no matter how you got here all tangled up the way you are, it’s clearly working out beautifully for all of you. [ sincere ] It’s a truly special family you’ve got here, Isa.

Yeah… yeah, it is. It’s not the first time someone has said this sentiment to them, in some capacity, but these days it feels more palpable than ever. Jack and Eric exchange smiles with their not-kids, basking in the glow of that sentiment.

INT. PARIS CAFE - DAY

Not everything can be so easy this morning, however. Yindra is having late breakfast with Jade, finding an authentic hole-in-the-wall café to enjoy while they’re still in the city. The ambience helps offset the tension of the conversation, as Yindra is doing her best -- albeit without sugarcoating -- to play defense for Nigel.

Yindra: Like, look, you know he is my best friend. I’m coming at this with a bias because I love the man, messy as he is. Jade: I know that. I love him too. Which is part of what makes this so hard. Yindra: And he should not have waited so long to tell you he was thinking about this. Zay and I told him so, more than once. Just so you know we were backing your rights. Jade: I appreciate that. Yindra: And if you truly feel this is too much, and you need to dump his scrawny, adorable ass, then I’m not going to fight you on it. That is your choice, and yours alone. But whatever you do, all I am asking is that you talk to him. Because since last night it’s been radio silence and he is… well, basically freaking the fuck out.

Jade can imagine. She’s known him long enough to picture it. And it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk through whatever they need to do. She will.

Jade: I just… need some time to think it through. On my own.

She is far from the only one facing some daunting choices. Yindra is included in that boat -- and gets a prompt reminder of it when she receives another email on her phone. It’s from Jupiter Records, again, following up with a bulletin of sorts on the group.

“This email is to inform you that ⅕ spots have officially been accepted in the group. Our time and opportunities are limited, so please respond with your decision as soon as possible.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. They’re basically counting down this thing? Based on the confusion in her expression, Jade can tell something is up. Yindra shows her the email.

Jade: What does this mean? Why would they tell you this? Yindra: I don’t know. I have no idea. Jade: Seems kind of pressuring, doesn’t it? [ thinking ] And if they’re encouraging you to act fast -- big persuasion energy, by the way -- like the spots are “limited,” doesn’t that kind of imply -- Yindra: I’m on a clock. And I’m not the only one with an offer.

Which she knew, obviously, but that’s different if it’s four other girls getting offered their spot. If this is like college admissions, and they extended more than five invitations to cover their bases, then it’s not just about being the best and making the cut. It’s about making the cut and making a choice, with little to no time to meander on it.

Because if she waits too long, waffling too much, she just might miss her chance entirely.

EXT. PALAIS GARNIER - DAY

Right in the thick of the packed arrondissements, the Palais Garnier opera house stands as a grand display of architectural beauty and elegance. It is even more breathtaking inside.

This is what Maya has decided she needs to see before they depart, hot beverage in hand as she tilts her head back and takes in the theater. She inhales a deep breath and closes her eyes, soaking up the energy of the place.

The camera pans to her side, showing that Zay has in fact tagged -- or been dragged -- along with her. He seems less moved than her, more focused on side-eyeing Maya’s theatrical reception than actually observing the structure itself. As our perspective widens one more time, Charlie also enters the frame, standing next to Zay and also gazing up at the opera house.

Maya: Do you feel the magic in the air? Doesn’t the performer’s pull just ignite your soul? Zay: I think that’s just the coffee hitting.

Yeah, not going to humor Maya’s theatrical antics this morning. Charlie makes a face but politely says nothing, taking a sip of the coffee he and Zay are sharing.

Maya: It’s a cultural touchstone standing before us, Babs. Rachel said the best of the best VIPs take care to make their rounds in these hallowed halls. As the global entertainers of tomorrow, it’s only customary that we pay our respects. Zay: You don’t sing opera. Charlie: Yeah, with all due respect to both forms, I wouldn’t exactly call Verdi a comparable to “O.M.G.”

Oh, he just had to remind her he was there… Maya opens her eyes, flat stare directed towards the opera house and just begging to be shot straight at Charlie. Instead, she gathers her composure, slapping on her sickly sweet Charlie Gardner smile and batting her eyelashes at him.

Maya: I wouldn’t expect you to understand the magnetism, Charlie Gardner, given that your grand life aspirations are neither performative nor pioneering. Or did you ever actually decide on what it is you wanted to spend your quaint, quotidian existence doing? I can’t recall if you mentioned it between all the minutes you’ve spent talking about the various ancient rocks you saw across Europe this summer.

Yeesh, okay, maybe it wasn’t just Zay who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If she really wanted to just hang out with him, she should’ve said so. Graciously, Charlie takes the digs in stride, raising a hand in surrender.

Zay: Let’s not forget who choreographed your oh-so-special video for “O.M.G.” while we’re taking creative shots.

Fair enough… Maya shrugs, sipping her own drink. Zay rolls his eyes. Charlie manages not to laugh, turning towards Zay and speaking softer.

Charlie: Anyway… I’m gonna go catch the train to meet Yindra. I promised we’d meet at noon. Zay: Sounds good. Charlie: But I’ll see you back at the hotel. Zay: Okay. Charlie: Okay.

Even just talking logistics, right now they simply have to smile when looking at each other. Charlie leans in to steal a soft kiss goodbye -- he can’t help himself -- and Zay has no objections.

Maya watches all of this out of the corner of her eye with mild interest (and pointed judgment), but she doesn’t comment. When they pull apart and Charlie heads off, he tosses one more pithy goodbye in Maya’s direction.

Charlie: Salut, Maya.

She offers a wave in return, though she’s obviously not saddened by his departure. Once the two divas are alone, Maya loudly clears her throat.

Maya: Well. You two are certainly coming off cozy… [ a beat ] and hormonal.

If Zay keeps rolling his eyes, they’re going to fall out of his head.

Zay: Offense intended, but you are the last person I would consider an expert in reading interpersonal dynamics. Maya: Please. My radar is impeccable. [ looking at the opera house ] So I suppose this means you’ve made your decision about the tour. Zay: I might have. Maya: And based on that little display, I presume you’ve chosen him. Zay: Did I say that? Maya: No one macks on each other like that if they’re planning on cutting ties in short order. And I don’t think I would be so keen to be all moon-eyed at someone if they were promptly planning on dumping me to travel the continental U.S. Zay: Well, as you so frequently love to point out, you and Charlie are not the same. [ off her nod ] Anyway, I haven’t said anything yet. When I want people to know what I’ve decided to do, then they’ll know. Until that time, once I’ve got it all worked out, you can kindly keep your assumptions to yourself.

If he says so… Maya relents, making a gesture of zipping her lips. Zay will believe it when he sees it -- would be a miracle -- but he moves on for now. He asks if Maya has figured out what her plans are upon return to the States. She raises her eyebrows, asking what he means.

Zay: Yindra mentioned you were dropping your producers. Maya: Oh. I see. Zay: Which, hey, no judgment here. If they aren’t working, they aren’t working -- which wouldn’t surprise me, because “Haute Stuff” was a hot mess. No offense to you. Maya: None taken. It definitely wasn’t my creative direction. Zay: So I’m just curious. If not them, then what happens next?

That is the question, isn’t it, Zay… one Maya herself is still trying to settle on. But for now, she plays coy, keeping up the confident diva persona for as long as it’ll sustain her. She shrugs, dropping her sunglasses back over her eyes.

Maya: All maneuvers in the diva chess master playbook will be revealed in due time. What is meant to be will be. Zay: Kind of sounds like “I don’t know” in fortune cookie speak to me.

He has always had a knack for seeing through her bravado, when there was something to see… but she isn’t going to show her cards so easily. She remains aloof, neither confirming nor denying.

Before long, both of them will have their paths laid out, for better or worse.

EXT. PARIS RESTAURANT - DAY

Outside the restaurant, Jack works to call Ruby and Zachary a taxi while the others share their goodbyes. The MacNamaras each exchange a warm hug with Eric, congratulating him again and thanking him for allowing them to join the celebration.

Eric: Of course. We’re family, somehow. Isa: In the twisted pretzel that is my social circle. Eric: And who you should really be thanking is Isa. I thought about extending the invite, but when I suggested it to them they basically insisted.

Well, that’s sweet to hear. Isa smiles bashfully. Zachary shakes hands with Lucas, while Ruby takes Riley’s.

Zachary: It was great to meet you as well. Riley: Likewise. Ruby: Hopefully it won’t be long before we see you all again. [ to Isa ] Especially you, of course, but know that all of your friends are welcome in our home. Any time. Always. Riley: Well, certainly won’t pass up that invitation. Isa: I’ll wield that power wisely. Ruby: You, Lucas, Dylan, Molly -- any and all of them! Oh, and Farkle, naturally. A friend of yours is a friend of ours.

It’s just that last name that stings… and feels increasingly unlikely by the day. Isa manages to hold their smile, though it falters.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

As Maya noted, Farkle did in fact book it home before anyone else. He’s back from the airport and in his room, not bothering to unpack as it’ll only be a couple more days before he’s back in the air again. Instead, he’s packing his other suitcase, wasting no time to high-tail it out of there.

Funny, how things can flip on a dime. Just days ago, it felt so good to be back in New York -- like there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be. A place he was so certain he was meant to belong.

Now…

JENNIFER MINKUS interrupts his brooding, bringing in dry-cleaning that they had rush done. Farkle thanks her and carefully deposits them into the emptier suitcase. She starts off chipper, blithely informing him of something she thinks he’ll find exciting: she’s decided to dip her toe into the theater scene!

Jennifer: Nothing major -- I’m no star like you -- but Stuart agreed we could divert some of our assets into exploring this little pet hobby of mine. Try my hand at a little bit of producing. You got all your creative vision from somewhere, you know. Farkle: That sounds great, mom. You’ll have to keep me updated.

Although his support is genuine, his response is way more muted than she was hoping for or expecting. Not nearly as enthusiastic, or theatrical, lacking his usual frenetic spark.

Jennifer watches her son, sensing that something in his demeanor has shifted but unable to pinpoint exactly what. Ever since junior year, her instincts are sharper than ever when it comes to him. She just wishes she had the ability to read his mind.

So she attempts to dig a bit, asking how the wedding went. Did he have fun? Farkle rattles off a noncommittal answer, but doesn’t go into details.

Jennifer: That’s all? Come on, let your long-married mother live a little vicariously. It’s been ages. How was the ambience? Did you get to see any of the ceremony? [ with flair ] God, there is nothing like the energy at a wedding reception. I mean, the sheer romance -- Farkle, clipped: I don’t want to talk about it.

Oh. Well… okay then. Jennifer takes the hint, but given his brusque tone, she takes the risk to question if everything is all right. He assures her he’s fine, just… done with this little break. Ready to move on. Right now, he just wants to make it back to Los Angeles.

Farkle: I’m done with the past. I’m ready to focus on the future.

There’s not much left for him here anymore.

EXT. PARIS HOTEL - DAY

Back at the hotel, Jack and Eric are loading their bags into their rental car. Their honeymoon begins now, as they’re going to take a couple of weeks to venture through Europe together.

While Riley insists on helping them with their things, Lucas and Isa focus on staying out of the way. They hang by the curb, Lucas quietly pointing out that things with the MacNamaras seemed pretty good. Not that he’s the expert, but…

Lucas: If they were nice enough to claim it was a pleasure to meet me, they seem like good people. Supportive of all the quirks in your world, at least. Isa: Yeah. Yeah, they are. [ with a deep breath ] Not gonna lie, it was really fucking weird having them here at first. All of the… everything crashing together. My brain isn’t totally grasping the whole… different compartments of my life suddenly getting thrown together in a blender and somehow not coming out terrible.

But it did. For the most part, Isa survived, and it wasn’t a total disaster (with one glaring exception). Lucas is right, though, that things feel good with their insane, interwoven web of a family… by whatever definition it may be.

Isa: To be honest, that’s kind of the one thing I can dare to feel optimistic about right now.

Hey, we’ll take optimism, in whatever form we can get it. Lucas nods.

Bags stashed away, Jack and Eric return to the sidewalk to say their final goodbyes. Hugs are exchanged all around, and briefly, key private moments are shared. When Jack is busy bantering with Isa and Lucas, Riley takes the opportunity to quickly seek last-minute counsel from her uncle. She knows he doesn’t have a ton of time, because he has to go off and have the best honeymoon, but…

Riley: Plans might be different when you come back. I’m probably not going to be at NYU anymore. Eric: No? Riley: No. [ softer ] I want to go to California with Lucas. Not for him, you know, just… I’m not super attached to the theater scene, or New York, and I know there’s other things to explore there. I can find stuff to do. And I was so interested in the campaign, and community events -- I know it probably feels like, sudden and crazy, but --

Eric takes her shoulders gently, mirroring her delicate tone.

Eric: Riley. Do you feel good about this decision? Does it feel right to you? Riley: … yeah. Yeah, it does. Eric: Then that’s all the guidance you need. You’re right, though, I know you -- you’ll find success wherever you go.

So if she thought she was going to shock him, or cause grave concern, think again. He’s not Cory; he has no doubt about whether Riley can figure out what she wants and needs in her own life.

Which is exactly what she wanted and needed to hear. She smiles wide, exchanging another tight embrace with him before Isa wanders over to join them.

Leaving Jack and Lucas alone for a moment. Neither of them exactly know what to say, as they aren’t great at sappy things like goodbyes. Especially after all the sappy they expelled during the wedding. So naturally, it starts out awkward.

Lucas: Long drive? Where… ever it is you’re going? Jack: Eh, not very. We’ve broken up the adventure pretty well. Lucas: Ah. Cool. Well… have fun. Jack: Thanks. [ a beat ] We’ll be back before you know it, though. Only a couple of weeks. Lucas: Right. For sure.

Yep… well. With that, guess there’s not much else to say… except Lucas does stumble into more, clearing his throat before it spills out of him.

Lucas: A lot’s going to be changing soon. Going to California, and stuff. Kind of far away. Jack: Sure is. You’ll be fine, though. Lucas: Yeah. Yeah. [ a beat ] I just… I don’t know how it’s gonna go. Or anything. I’m not amazing at communicating anyway, and it’s hard enough to get me when I’m, like, right there. And who knows what ways I’ll discover to fuck this all up. [ off his head shake ] I guess I just want to be clear, you know… you and me. How things are… whatever I do, out there, I hope it doesn’t --

Jack smiles, reaching out and taking Lucas’s shoulder. He gives it a bracing squeeze, waiting for him to meet his eyes.

Jack: You and me will be fine. No matter what happens.

Think they’ve earned the right to say so after all they’ve been through. And tellingly, Jack understood what he was trying to say.

Lucas nods, grateful… then initiates a hug. Jack happily returns it.

When they pull back, Jack offers one more reassurance.

Jack: What my mom said, about the two of us… she’s full of a lot of nonsense, but she was spot on about that.

In some ways, they are one in the same. And that is a much, much more preferable perspective than the one where he’s the reflection of Kenneth -- the shadow looming over him that he’s trying so hard to shake off.

As Riley jumps over to join the two of them, Isa and Eric get their own chance to say goodbye. It won’t be long until they see each other again, but even so, Eric’s caretaker instincts have kicked in and he has to confirm that everything will be under control while he’s away. Isa will be okay, right? They’re not forgetting anything important to check on, are they?

Isa: It’s legit amazing you don’t already have kids. You’re like, the most natural nag I’ve ever heard. Is that a theater kid symptom too?

Eric rolls his eyes, but in truth, the light teasing is appreciated. Helps lighten the mood of departure. On a more serious note, though, Eric does want to make sure Isa is going to be okay with him gone, given… everything that happened at the reception. The meltdown, the family merging, the drama with Farkle… seriously, is there anything he can do? If they need him, at any point, he’s only a call away.

Isa halts his fretting, holding up a hand.

Isa: Stop, all right? I’m okay. I’ll be okay. You’re about to go on your honeymoon -- don’t spend that whole time worrying about me. Eric: You say that like it’s so easy. Isa: I know it isn’t. For some reason. You’re kind of the first parent I’ve had who seems to find it hard to forget about me. [ off his grimace ] But seriously, chill. I survived the wedding. I’ll survive whatever happens next. It’s stuff I have to figure out, anyway. On my own. And considering how much time you’ve spent giving me the tools, hopefully we can both believe I can tackle it.

At some point, he’s going to have to let them fly free without a safety net. They both have to trust that they can. Eric nods, accepting that, commending the maturity Isa has already displayed.

Isa: If you want to help, just… go have fun with your new husband and promise me I won’t change that. Eric: [ with a laugh ] Deal.

Isa offers their hand to shake on it, which Eric plays along with and accepts. Then he pulls them closer, giving them an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

And with that, it’s really time to go. Jack goes for the driver’s seat and climbs in as Eric pulls open the passenger side door, Riley, Lucas, and Isa gathering together on the curb. Eric waves through the window as they pull onto the street, Riley blowing kisses after them.

INT. NOTRE DAME CATHEDRAL - DAY

One of the most famous pieces of religious architecture in the world, revered for its beauty (and rightfully so), the Notre Dame is perhaps one of those must-see Parisian landmarks. It may not hold much appeal to someone like Maya or Isa…

But for Yindra and Charlie, it would be almost blasphemous not to pay their respects. Panning down from the towering vaulted ceilings and stained glass, we land on the two of them, who are looking up at the interior of the cathedral in quiet awe. They’re far from the only two in the space -- it’s a tourist attraction as much as it’s a religious venue, after all -- but something about the ambience makes it feel like otherwise.

Around them, the patrons passing through are respectfully muted, nothing but footsteps and gentle murmurs echoing through the stone walls. Once they’ve stopped staring starstruck enough to move, Charlie joins that soft chorus, leaning closer to whisper to Yindra.

Charlie: I’m going to look around -- I have to see that stained glass. Yindra: Right. For sure. Charlie: Do you want to stick together? I don’t mind waiting if -- Yindra: Oh, no. No, you do you. It’s not like we’ll get lost in here. [ with a smile ] Go ahead. We’ll find each other in a bit.

Charlie nods, returning the smile and lightly bumping her elbow before he steps away. Yindra watches him go, then inhales a deep breath, gazing up at the daunting scenery again.

While she wasn’t lying about her cool with letting them split up, she has additional motives as well. There’s something she needs to do while she’s here -- something she thinks she needs to do alone.

She moves further into the cathedral, doing her best not to draw attention or get in anyone’s way. She approaches the side of the pews where a stand is set up, allowing you to light a votive candle and it add to the display for about two euros. She pulls that and whatever she has left from her pocket, dropping it into the tin and taking a candle for herself.

Delicately, Yindra lights it, covering the little flame protectively with her palm so it won’t blow out. She settles it into its own spot amongst the rest, another glimmer of light joining the warm communal glow.

It’s the only offering she has, so she better make it count. It’s what she really wanted to come here for, after all. Communion. Right now, she needs advice -- and what better a place to make her plea than one of the most famous phone booths for the big man upstairs itself?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Help the Outcasts” as performed by Hunchback of Notre Dame Original Movie Cast Recording || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. Charlie Gardner)

The opening instrumental floats in as Yindra glances around her to make sure no one is too close by, then she exhales a sigh. She clasps her hands together in front of her, closing her eyes.

Yindra: Hi, God. How’s it going? Given the state of the world these days, probably not great, I know -- I don’t know why I ask you that every time I do this. [ with a huff ] That’s to say, I know you have a ton to deal with, but if you’ve got a spare second, I’d really like some guidance.

A family passes by her, causing her to pause for a moment. Once they’re gone, she continues.

Yindra: I have a potentially amazing opportunity in front of me, but I’m not sure if I should take it. And even admitting that feels silly, because… I mean, it’s an opportunity. It’s anything, and I should be grateful it’s not nothing. And I am excited about it -- there is something to the idea that makes me eager to dive in. Even so… I just don’t want to make a big mistake. I don’t want to make some choice, this early and this young, that completely derails my dreams before I’ve had the chance to manifest them into any version of reality. And I know that some of that is on me, that I’m not helpless in this situation. In fact, right now, I have all the power here; I choose whether I do this or not. But I just… [ growing shaky ] This industry has been… a lot. It’s so hard to know what’s your gut, telling you a truth, and just fear holding you back from what you’re meant to do. And if I weren’t so invested -- if I were smart, maybe, like Charlie -- I’d run in the other direction. Do something that doesn’t require any of that adrenaline, or uncertainty, or leaps of faith. [ resigned ] But I love it. Singing is… everything to me. I know that, in spite of it all. I’m just not sure yet if this path, the one in front of me right now, is the way to honor that love.

Choices at this age are daunting no matter what, but especially in this industry. In this machine that holds all their dreams behind a glittering gate, that has already seemingly chewed up and perhaps spat out one of her peers (and greatest competitors and contemporaries). If it could do that to Maya, the most steely and unabashed of them all…

Yindra: So I guess… I’m just… looking for a sign. If you’ve got the time and effort to spare. It doesn’t have to be anything major. Just give me… some hint that this is what I’m meant to be doing. That this path isn’t going to tear me apart. That’s all I’m asking for.

But then, what is she expecting, exactly? Her problems are so small, so privileged, compared to the ones God has to be battling. If he’s even there at all, and she’s not just sending up prayers to the ether like Zay and Nigel think.

But she has always felt a part of something just a little bigger in spaces like these. Felt a bit like home, held in some sort of embrace that assured her things would be all right. That’s what she knows. And she knows that she has to believe in something -- something more than just herself.

These days, even that feels like a test of faith. As the instrumental gently descends into the opening lines, Yindra begins to sing.

I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’re even there I don’t know if you would listen to my humble prayer

As she sings, it’s clear that she’s not just singing about her own uncertainty and prospects -- she’s thinking about all of them. Her cohort, the people she’s gotten this far with in spite of it all; the ones also struggling with these challenging decisions.

God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don’t find on Earth

Yindra finishes out the rest of the first verse and chorus, transitioning away from the votive candles and further into the cathedral. The scenery sets the contemplative scene around her while she softly makes her modest plea.

The performance then shifts, an unfamiliar chorus of the prayers of passersby taking over. As Yindra walks amongst them through the pews, we hear the small and large asks, hers just one of many amongst the congregation -- wealth, fame, glory. Love, earned or not; blessings, earned or not. So many desires, so many wishes that all are hoping some cosmic force up above will bring to fruition.

Charlie, on the other hand, has a different stance -- which he vocalizes when we find him again in the cathedral and ground back down to the familiar.

I ask for nothing, I can get by But I know so many less lucky than I

Even with all he’s been through, including recent cataclysms, Charlie doesn’t want anything more. He’s already found peace, some version of it anyway, and he had to work damn hard to earn it. But he’s of a similar mind as Yindra, speaking for more than just himself. Speaking for his peers, but speaking as well for a much larger community he’s embraced in the last year. The part of himself that he’s worked so hard to accept; the one that may have cost him his family because they don’t share that view.

Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God?

Yindra has made it to the front, standing before the altar with the gorgeous stained glass windows lofty above it all. This is where Charlie finds her, joining her before she sings the final lines.

Once she wraps the last note, and the orchestral outro brings us to a tender conclusion, Yindra looks to her left at Charlie. He smiles back, light and unassuming. Then, he offers her a hand.

Yindra takes it. She links their arms and pulls him closer, resting her head against his shoulder. His smile brightens and he gently tilts his head against hers, the two of them gazing up at the cathedral again.

Still without answers, perhaps not as secure as they once were, but safe and supported with one another.

INT. PARIS HOTEL - R&L ROOM - DAY

Riley is getting her purse together before she heads out again, working on a tight clock to get in all of the Paris-ing she wants to before their flight home. She pauses long enough to let Isa in when they knock unexpectedly on the door.

Isa: I was wondering if you had a second -- Riley: Totally. Of course. Like, a second second, because I’m just about to head out. Isa: Oh. Well, I just -- Riley: Nigel and I were going to walk the Seine one more time and I told him I’d meet him down in the lobby like five minutes ago. And you’re going to see Chai, right? I saw on Insta she has a new girlfriend -- need tea on that, by the way. Isa: Sure. But I just need to -- Riley: And now I can’t find my chapstick, which I’m pretty sure is actually in the bathroom, but Lucas is showering right now, and it’s not like I can’t just pop in there, you know, but sometimes he gets all -- [ on the other hand ] or sometimes I get -- Isa: [ getting it over with ] I think Farkle hates me now.

Yeah, that does the trick. Riley stops dead in her tracks, whipping her head up to look at them. Understandably, she looks baffled by the comment.

Riley: What? He certainly didn’t seem hateful yesterday. Unless we’re redefining terms based on your long, colorful history… Isa: No, not then. This is… after all that. And I don’t blame him if he does. I… [ frustrated ] I totally fucked shit up.

Now they’ve got Riley’s attention. She shoots a quick text to Nigel to let him know she’s running a few minutes late and then plops down on the end of the bed with Isa, insisting they tell her everything. She could tell something was different between them since Farkle got back, but what exactly has happened?

So Isa tells her. They wanted her advice, after all, and that requires airing all the dirty laundry. They give the truncated version -- how things ended senior year, their decision to still date Chai, but the lingering feelings they suddenly couldn’t ignore…

Riley: OMG. I knew it. I knew it! Isa: Um, what? Riley: Honey, please, it was so obvious. Dylan and I have been talking about this for like literally a year at this point. Isa: You talk about me when I’m not there? Riley: [ ignoring that ] So you like him. In spite of the Jordan disaster, he clearly had -- has -- a thing for you. What’s the problem?

For a brief, blissful period of time, seemingly nothing. First there was the Jordan issue, like she said, but once that obstacle was removed, and everything developed the way it did…

Isa: I mean, it was a relief to get it off my chest. I think it was for both of us. And we may have moved way too fast, but like, when do I do anything right or in the traditional pattern? And it’s not like the sex was like, bad, so -- Riley: I’m sorry, WHAT?

The offhand revelation is enough to send Riley jumping back to her feet again. This is a lot of information to be getting so nonchalantly. Isa tries to reel her back in, brushing aside the physical intimacy of it all to get back to the actual problem.

Isa: Sorry, forget I said that. It’s not relevant -- I mean, it is, but -- Riley: You two -- you actually -- how am I just hearing about this?! Isa: Dude, sorry, but things have been a little insane around here lately. Or did you forget that? It didn’t exactly seem like the best conversation starter given recent events. Like, “hey y’all, Lucas, so sorry for your loss -- but not really -- anyway I lost my virginity and it was a trip?”

Okay, fair point. Riley concedes that, raising her hands in surrender and calming down enough to settle back down onto the bed. But that still leaves the original question -- what happened? How do you go from having post-confessional, heat-of-the-moment sex to apparently earning the hatred of the person you purportedly like so much?

Riley: I’m just saying, I know both of you. I don’t see either of you getting that up-close and personal just for the laugh. I don’t see how you could flip on feelings like that so quickly.

Well, Isa isn’t so confused about that part… but this is the bit they aren’t proud to discuss. They awkwardly stumble through explaining what happened after the hookup, how rushed their departure was and how events inherently put a pause on whatever relationship sorting out they needed to do. And then Isa stupidly told him they loved him, while tipsy after the funeral…

Riley: Well, do you? Isa: [ a pointed beat ] That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter now, anyway, since I fucked it all up.

Which is how they got here. Isa could dump words on him when it was in their control, when he couldn’t speak back -- but not when it counted. When it counted, after they took advantage of his presence and comfort and familiarity yet again all throughout the wedding. They couldn’t pull it together long enough to tell him what he actually needed to hear.

Riley, sympathetic: Dora… Isa: So yeah, I screwed him over. Royally. Not intentionally, but I did, because that’s just what I fucking do I guess. [ with a sigh ] And it’s not like what I said was the truth, but I don’t know how to make that clear. Both of us are so damn awful at communicating, and even if I did get the opportunity, I don’t know if I could put it into words. I never know what to say when it actually matters.

Join the club, babe. But that’s the rub. They cracked under the pressure, couldn’t hack it, and they damaged what they care about so much in the process. Classic, at this point.

Riley: Listen, I get why you feel that way. And I think it’s really good that you’re trying to take responsibility for it, that you’re not trying to either brush it under the rug and pretend it’s not affecting you, or blame something other than yourself. That’s mature. Isa: It sucks. Riley: Yes, being mature often does. But while I admire that, I don’t think you should take this entire thing on your shoulders. You didn’t say the right thing in the moment, but you were struggling with a lot. You put so much effort into that day, to be there for Eric and the wedding, it’s not your fault that it affected you the way it did. You were shutting down -- you can’t control that. I think in more ideal circumstances, Farkle would understand that. He knows you as well as I do.

But that doesn’t change that it happened. Emotions got in the way; feelings got hurt. Feelings that were already bruised, and stretched so thin, it’s a gamble as to whether they can be healed.

That doesn’t mean Isa shouldn’t try. That’s what Riley ultimately counsels, insisting that if they’re this upset about how it happened, if those things they said last night aren’t the truth, then they need to tell Farkle that. Maybe he won’t want to hear it, sure. But better to give him the choice will all the context than let their wounds fester without ever addressing it.

Riley: I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. Given you two and your… personalities, I’m almost positive it won’t be. Isa: Thanks. Riley: But at least you’ll have tried. You’ll have said your piece and left nothing up to confusion. Better that than to let all the confusion and hurt smolder for who knows how long.

Isa is hesitant, but they know in their heart Riley is right. They thank her, then exhale, shaking their head.

Isa: What the hell am I gonna do when you’re three-thousand miles away?

Riley laughs. She initiates a soft hug, which Isa returns tightly.

Riley: I’ll still have a phone, you know. And you’re getting pretty decent at figuring things out without me. [ pulling back and giving them a smile ] You’re going to be fine.

Maybe so. That’s what growing up is all about, isn’t it… no matter how searing the growing pains.

EXT. PARIS PARK - DAY

Those same thoughts are on Jade’s mind as she ruminates on her own. She’s currently sitting on a bench in a pocket of a park in the middle of Paris, people-watching and trying to clear her head. She has her small sketchbook open, taking inspiration from the Parisian street fashion for reference later.

But she keeps getting distracted. No sketch ends up finished, because her mind keeps wandering back to the major developments in her own life. Nigel’s potential jump across the pond -- not too far from where they are right now, but leagues away from her new launchpad in Los Angeles. Stretching the cord that binds them even further, threatening to pull it to threads.

And doing all this without even thinking to tell her about it. Not until he basically decided he wanted to do it. That stings, regardless of how Jade feels about the actual news.

But even then… Jade raises her head and spots an older couple seated together on a bench across the park. They seem to be having a relatively somber conversation, the man crying while the woman provides him subtle comfort. Supporting him, even when it can’t be easy.

Jade can’t act like she’s a saint here. She did the same to Nigel, back last semester, when she didn’t tell him about the Pinhead opportunity. He handled that gracefully, and encouraged her to pursue it, despite the distance. And so far, they’ve done okay. They’ve made it work.

They’ve already made mistakes. They already hurt each other without meaning to, after their difficult first semester out of Adams. If pulling on their connecting threads really will rip them apart, then they weren’t stitched to last anyway. There’s no way to know ahead of time.

But Jade can decide how she wants to handle this. That much is in her control, right now.

Suddenly inspired, Jade pulls out her phone. She opens Whatsapp -- shoutout international communication tools -- and scrolls to find the right contact, calling them up. She isn’t sure they’ll answer; this isn’t someone she usually calls, let alone so unexpectedly. She doesn’t want to alarm them, considering where she’s calling from, but she doesn’t want to wait…

Lucky her, whoever it is picks up. She exhales a sigh of relief, getting to her feet.

Jade: Thanks for answering. Sorry I didn’t ask first. [ a beat ] Oh, no, no, everything is fine. Everyone is well. He’s fine. I just -- there’s something I think we should talk about.

No turning back… Jade takes a deep breath.

Jade: I assume he told you about the UK? Riley, pre-lap: Wow. London?

EXT. PARIS STREETS - DAY

Nigel is currently informing Riley about said potential change, giving her the full low-down as they stroll along the Seine together. They haven’t had much time to catch up with everything going on in the last month or so, so he wouldn’t have had much opportunity to tell her even if he was announcing it widely.

It doesn’t take much to convince her that this is a great idea. She’s clearly not opposed to switching it up, after all, and the logic just makes sense for Nigel. The UK has a different culture around theater, and it’s not like he’s having the time of his life at NYU. She’s sold.

The one slip-up, of course, is how he handled telling Jade. He knows he didn’t approach it right, dropping it on her so unceremoniously. He should’ve told her ages ago. But he didn’t, he messed up, and now he’s dreading that in making such a big choice that may be the right thing, he might have cast the other so right thing in his life into oblivion.

Riley empathizes -- with both of them -- but she isn’t that concerned. Nigel stares at her, baffled.

Nigel: Did you hear what I just said? How can you not be worried? Riley: Yes, I did. And I agree, you did not handle that well. If I were Jade, I’d also want more warning. Or just to feel included in the process, no matter how little influence I actually had. [ with a shrug ] You made a mistake. Thing is, Nige, I don’t know if you noticed this but like… all of us have made mistakes. Including Jade. Nigel: I guess… Riley: We’re basically in the era of our lives where we’re supposed to make mistakes! And those mistakes, and missteps, and big changes are, ideally, going to get us closer to wherever it is we’re actually meant to be. I mean, look at your friends. Zay, Yindra. Isa and Farkle are full of missteps; Maya is the queen of putting her foot in her mouth. Nigel: I’m not sure she sees that as a mistake. Riley: The point is, we’re all gonna flub it sometimes. You, me, all of us. And unfortunately, it’s going to hurt people -- I hate that part the most, believe me -- but it is. That’s life. What matters is what we do next, and that we just keep trying to do the best we can.

Which, with this decision, is exactly what Nigel is trying to do. He’ll have to work things out with Jade, yes. And the transition, when he goes to the UK, won’t be easy-peasy.

Nigel: If I go. Riley: When you go. They’ll accept you. I know it -- and trust me, I just know about these sort of things.

They’d be insane not to. All this to say, this time of their lives is all about shaking things up, making mistakes, stumbling and stretching towards whatever the future is supposed to be. Riley can forgive him his missteps, and she’s pretty confident Jade can too.

Even if she’s wrong, her comforting words do their job. Nigel exhales a sigh, feeling a bit less frazzled. He gives her a light smile.

Nigel: Riley Matthews, I don’t know what we’d do without you.

She beams, looping her arm through his as they continue their afternoon stroll.

As the soundscape of flights taking off and landing consumes the gentle Parisian day…

Pilot, pre-lap: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York.

INT. CHEY CAR - DAY

Welcome back, indeed. The Parisian detour has ended, and now, the real world with all of its pressing decisions awaits.

Having safely arrived back in New York, ERNESTO CHEY picks up Nigel and Yindra. Once they’ve made it into the car, Nigel in the passenger seat and Yindra in back, Ernesto confirms they’re not waiting for anyone else.

Ernesto: No Jade? I’m happy to give her a ride. Nigel: Uh, nope. No, she… found her own way.

He isn’t going to offer more than that right now. As the car gets moving, Yindra receives an incoming text.

It’s from Aleena. She opens it immediately.

“did you hear from Jupiter?”

Honestly, Yindra is surprised she’s reaching out to her… and kind of happy to see it. She isn’t sure they’re supposed to be talking like this, giving each other any intel, but she isn’t going to pass up the chance.

“yep”

She hesitates, then shows her card.

“they offered me a spot. did you?”

The wait to get a response is excruciating, even though it’s only about a minute. Yindra doesn’t close her phone so she won’t miss it.

“I got an offer too”

That sends relief through Yindra, though she isn’t exactly sure why. Maybe just knowing that the “name” thing wasn’t a deal-breaker for either of them, or that someone else remotely sane is a potential member?

At least, they were offered membership. If she herself is any indication, that doesn’t mean any guarantees. So she braves asking the question:

“sick, congrats! are you gonna accept?”

Aleena starts to reply, her bubble popping up… then it goes away. She doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t want to give Yindra any more insight than she already has.

Or maybe, Yindra figures, she hasn’t made the call just yet either. But the clock keeps ticking…

INT. NEW YORK HOTEL - DAY

And a call bell dings, transitioning us into the hubbub of an upscale Manhattan hotel. Isa is meeting up with Zachary and Ruby in the lobby, intending to give them an abridged tour of their neck of the woods while they’re laid over between flights.

Ruby: I’m so looking forward to this, genuinely. Zachary has a bit of history in New York too -- Zachary: Everyone has their Law & Order era at the start. Ruby: And all your plays and things. So I can’t wait to hear both of your alls takes on the different places. What are we going to see first?

They start to head out of the revolving doors, Isa hanging back to let them exit first. In the brief pause they get, they quickly check their phone. It’s already open on their message thread with Farkle.

It’s dead. Aside from the messages they have clearly sent -- more than one -- in the past forty-eight hours begging for the chance to talk, it’s radio silent. In fact, their texts don’t even seem to be going through: it won’t budge from “sent” to “delivered,” let alone “read.”

Disappointing, but they have to put it aside for now. Family calls. Isa stuffs their phone in their pocket and pushes through the revolving door.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is dutifully keeping himself preoccupied, currently organizing the tupperwares of food his parents had the personal chef cook to pack for his return trip to LA. Since he had to change plans so suddenly, he’ll be taking the company jet instead, which means more flexibility about what he can take on board.

URI MINKUS pokes his head around the corner of the hallway, finding Farkle in the kitchen. He awkwardly saunters in with his hands in his pockets.

Uri: What’s all that? Farkle: Meal prep. Now that I’m going back to LA, I think mom is convinced I’m going to starve. As if I didn’t already survive a year of school on my own. Uri: You’re going back already? I thought you weren’t leaving until this weekend.

Or ever… when Farkle first came back, Uri kind of got the impression he was keen to hang around for a while. Not that he cares, or anything… Farkle shrugs.

Farkle: Had to push my flight up.

He doesn’t explain why. Uri doesn’t seem all that pleased about that, but he doesn’t question it further. Instead, he focuses on a more pressing issue.

Uri: So, uh, your boyfriend. The Nelson dude. Farkle: Jordan? Uri: Yeah, the Nelson dude. You like -- it’s over, right? You broke up for real?

Not exactly his favorite topic at the moment, but Farkle sighs and gives him a nod anyway.

Farkle: Yes. We’re done. Uri: Oh. Okay. Cool. Farkle: I know, you can say I told you so. You’re so very smart and superior. Uri: That wasn’t why I asked. Just… he’s like, shitty. He didn’t treat you the way you deserve.

Despite his awkward, adolescent boy delivery, Uri is being genuine. The sincerity surprises Farkle, softening him just enough to open up a larger conversation.

Farkle: Oh, no? Tell me, what exactly do I deserve? It’s a fair question, considering this is coming from one of two people who dedicated themselves to calling me “germ” for about half my life. Uri: That’s different. We’re your siblings. It’s our job to humble you… germ.

Sure. Farkle rolls his eyes. Anyway… Uri clears his throat, shrugging his gangly shoulders.

Uri: I mean, I’m not acting like I’m an expert. But I do have a bit of experience with the opposite sex in such matters as these. Farkle, amused: That so? Uri: Yeah… it’s not easy. Like, man, girlfriends are… a lot. [ a beat ] But I think at the bare minimum, it should be obvious that you like, like each other. For who you are. Maybe that’s not perfect, or whatever, and you’re gonna make a lot of mistakes. But if you can fall back on the idea that hey, at least you like me because I’m me, then… you know. That’s chill.

Profound. But honestly, pretty spot on. Jordan and Farkle were never going to work, because Jordan didn’t really like Farkle. He liked the concept of him, a muse he could mold, but that didn’t extend to the real thing. It didn’t apply to the artist behind the canvas.

A good relationship, real love, endures because and in spite of the fact that both people are still chipping away at their own self-sculptures, discovering who they’re meant to be underneath the marble. And they like each other regardless, whether they’re looking at the final, chiseled product or the hunk of rock that has just barely begun to take shape.

In any case, Uri thinks Farkle at least deserves that much.

Uri: Maya, she loves you that way. Same with your friend Isa. That’s what I’m talking about -- that’s what I think you deserve.

That’s what Farkle thought, too… only that didn’t turn out so well either. That reality is exactly what he’s running from -- because if someone can love him that much, despite his rocky edges, and it can still fall apart in spectacular fashion, then what? What does that mean for him?

Even so, the sentiment is there. Farkle smiles, thanking Uri for the advice. He brushes it off, characteristically awkward, but manages to return the smile.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

Josh walks Maya back to her apartment, somehow having been wrangled into carrying one of her bags as well. He comments on it as they arrive at the doorstep of her apartment.

Josh: Well, career or not, you sure have the diva instincts down pat.

Always has, babe. Maya flashes a grin… then takes that convenient transition to shift topics. Before she goes back inside, and her mother can hear, she wants to discuss the career thing. After a breath:

Maya: I do think I want to do it. Give it one last shot. Josh: Okay -- okay! Fuck yeah. Maya: This has been my thing my entire life, and being this close… I don’t want to let it go. I don’t want this to be the way I go out. If I’m fading to obscurity, it’s going to be a bang. Not a sizzle.

That sounds more true to Maya Hart. Josh nods along, in total agreement.

Maya: But. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right. This swan song -- Josh: It’s not gonna be a swan song. This is not the end. Bet. Maya: Don’t say bet. You sound like Nate Martinez. Josh: Who? Maya: Long story. Just stick to your millennial brand of embarrassing vernacular. [ anyway ] The point is, this song… it has to be good, Josh. Not just good -- it has to be the fucking best. If this is going to be the last chance you and I have to stay above water… then we have to give it absolutely everything we’ve got.

She won’t settle for anything less. And beyond that, she thinks, it has to say something. It has to speak to something real.

Maya: Justin and Melissa never let me do that. Not that I was necessarily pushing it either, but… “Haute Stuff” was so lifeless, all about sheen. If we’re going to reach people, I feel like it really needs to be about something. That there has to be more underneath it than just nice vocals and my pretty face. Josh: I’m down with that. I know you’ve got the range. What exactly does that mean, though? What are you thinking?

That is the hard part. She doesn’t know just yet. She needs to dig back into her songwriting notebook, think about what she really wants to work through. But she’ll get working on it -- and fast.

Josh: Copy that. I’ll take a look through your demos and stuff too, see if anything jumps out, but if you want to write something new, by all means. Maya: I’ll try my damnedest. Josh: We’ll land on the right thing. We can do this. Maya: You really are darn optimistic. It’s gotta be the Matthews in you. Josh: More like I don’t think I could survive walking around convinced of the alternative.

Music is his life -- and hers too, he knows. He doesn’t want to imagine the world where they truly flop beyond repair.

Here’s hoping. Maya sighs and unlocks the apartment door, stepping inside.

INT. HART APARTMENT - DAY

KATY HART is in the kitchen when they walk through the door, cheerfully greeting her daughter. She comes to give Maya a hug once her bags are dropped, then turns her attention to Josh.

Maya: You remember Josh. The producer from L.A. Katy: The one who produced “LolliPop!” Yes?

Yes, that’s right… and proof that Maya did credit him that way before that whole debacle went down. Particularly to the people who matter. Josh smiles, extending a hand to shake hers.

Josh: Nice to see you again. Your daughter, despite her antics, is a real talent.

Maya rolls her eyes, but Katy seems to appreciate the cheek. Makes him seem more authentic -- and like he actually understands Maya.

Katy: You wouldn’t be the first to say so. Maya: A diva is perpetually misunderstood. Katy: Thanks for helping her back from the airport. My shift just ran a tad later than I could manage… Josh: Oh, no worries at all. Happy to help. It’s good practice for us, I think, being stuck with one another.

Because, God willing, they may be setting themselves up for a lot of that in the years to come… Josh politely claims he best be off.

Once he’s gone, Katy turns to Maya, raising her eyebrows in intrigue.

Katy: He’s nice. Kind of cute, too… Maya: Josh? Don’t make me laugh.

That earns one from Katy. Her daughter truly is impossible to please on that front… but at least she knows her own heart. And romance aside, he seems like a good person to rely on. Someone she can trust to have in her corner out there.

That, Maya seems to agree on, if the way her expression softens is any indication.

Maya: He’s… something. That’s for sure.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Another day begins. Now back in their typical routine, Riley walks with Lucas to the diner for his morning shift. Before he disappears into the fray, she asks him to wait a minute, taking his hand and pausing outside the diner.

Lucas: … everything okay? Riley: No, yeah. Yes, everything is great. I was just thinking… I know you have a lot on your plate. Super busy week and everything. And I’ve got some stuff to focus on this week too. Lucas: Yeah. Riley: So maybe we could plan to get together at my place this weekend? Dedicate some time for just us two. There’s something I want to talk about, with your move coming up, and I want to make sure we have enough time to really discuss it.

Oh, Lucas knows exactly what she’s talking about -- and it makes that prickle in his shoulder blades flare up again. Now he has until this weekend to figure out how he wants to walk into that conversation, because he’ll only get one chance to make the right call.

But Riley is looking at him right now, cute brown eyes bright and hopeful and reflecting the morning sun, so he isn’t going to say no. He can do this -- he can do it for her.

Lucas: Okay. Sure. This weekend.

Riley beams, rewarding him with a kiss. She squeezes his hand and then lets him go, watching him contently as he retreats into the diner. Unlike Lucas, she knows exactly how she wants to walk into this conversation come Saturday.

She knows, with pristine certainty, how she wants to walk into the rest of her life.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’ve Loved You For So Long” as performed by The Aces || Performed by Riley Matthews

The percussive opening tosses us right into the energetic, light-hearted performance, offering a refreshing change of pace from the heftier numbers we’ve had so far this episode. Riley is basically walking on sunshine as she launches into the opening verse, dancing her way through the city and singing so proudly about how she feels. Emotive in the best way; confident in her emotions in a way she’s always managed better than her peers.

And even though waltzing through Manhattan feels a bit like a goodbye, since she won’t be around much longer, it doesn’t feel somber at all. Far from it; the duet with the city is bright, appreciative, not a tad regretful. She will always love this place, because it gave her so much, but she’s ready to move on from it too. She got the story she was meant to get here -- now, it’s time to see what other worlds hold for her next.

The only key that matters to her is who she’s doing it with.

You're taking me back, babe, to where it all started Wearing your hair up in your New York apartment, I swear I've loved you for so long; I'd do it again

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And taking us back to where it all started is exactly what Riley does throughout the rest of the number, popping in and out of different vignettes familiar to the Riley and Lucas history. Spinning through the grass of Central Park; stopping by the animal shelter and wiggling a finger at the kittens playing in the window. Belting a triumphant line on the steps of Adams, an homage to the place that lit the spark.

EXT. CHUBBIES - DAY

By the end, Riley ends up back where she began, standing outside the doors of the diner. She glances through the windows to catch one more glance of Lucas in his Chubbies uniform -- another small little treasure of their lore -- before breaking into a grin.

Then she spins on her heel and heads down the sidewalk, an undeniable spring in her step.

[ 413 Hub ] [ Next (Part 2) → ]

#413

[coccyodynia]

things:

this one is gonna be all over the place bc there's a lot of things i haven't dealt with yet or even acknowledged but i need to do something with them so weird tumblr post it is!

i haven't slept well in months for a number of reasons (ornery cat, back pain etc) and its really catching up to me

my health is still very much in flux but i am very very broke and cannot afford my health insurance and/or co-pays so i've basically stopped pursuing any kind of treatment/appointments for now, just trying to deal with the pain as much as i can :/

i am still without a dayjob and thats gonna become a problem very quickly :/

im getting back into the habit of making art on a more regular or consistent basis, which i am happy about!!

since i quit my job i've had a noticeable improvement in my moods, overall outlook and depression symptoms. a lot of people around me (therapist, parents, grandma, friends) have made comments about how they've noticed this

i've been working really hard on my coping skills and other inner-work to improve my life and relationships and it's really working i think, so i'm happy about that

my apartment is looking a lot better, usually when my depression/moods are really bad my kitchen becomes pretty much unusable, but since i've been more free to focus on things in my life i've been keeping it cleaner and i'm happy about that too

the semester started a few weeks ago, and im enjoying my class/students! im really excited about the rest of the semester and to see what my students make

i had a tarot reading that kind of blew my mind last weekend and i'm still sort of reeling from it tbh

she spoke a lot about my inner turmoil and the past, and being content with a found family (at least that's how i interpreted it) in my future, while having a strong support system presently

interestingly she never said much of anything at all about relationships outside of that, which i took to heart

i've sort of always believed i would never have a life partner/long-term relationship, but instead the universe would continue passing people through my life on timelines appropriate to how these relationships serve me

i think people like lillian and kym will always be around for sure, but my life has shown a pretty consistent pattern of people being introduced to my life at a time when i desperately needed someone and slowly removing them from my life when i learned what i needed to learn (mannie, reid, michael, justin, henry, so on and so forth)

i know that this is what's happening with justin and on one hand i'm understanding of that, on the other hand i'm very upset about it

i really dont know where he and i stand right now, he's in a new job and trying to spend more time with his kid, so he's less available to talk/hang

it really hurts, because he really did save my life in some form or fashion, and to have that comforting presence slowly disappear has been incredibly difficult

i've really been avoiding talking about this with anyone, like my therapist and closest friends because i am not sure how i will handle the grief once i let myself really accept it/deal with it

last night Lil asked me "how are things with justin?" and i gave some weird vague response like "not sure, i'll tell you when i figure it out"

her followup question, after a slight pause, was: "are you okay?"

i had to laugh because obviously no i'm not okay with this but i dont have a choice, so i'm handling it as well as i can - but i told lil that i probably am not handling it as well as i should

i got very drunk the other night and had an incredibly bad time, sobbing hysterically and screaming basically, bc i am so tired of people just coming and going from my life

my notes app on my phone is just full of one-liners about this bullshit and i feel like a stereotype, moreso than usual

one-liners include:

"people would rather leave than extend the grace i offered them from the start"

"it only hits me sometimes, but i feel it every fucking day"

"found rotten at the root, i am being picked clean"

"people just move on, they move on and forward at a clip and im still here - still here still here still here - no matter how far i move, im still stuck here"

so im not in a great headspace about all of this

but i am at least doing better handling it than i might have been 6 months ago tbh

literally anyway...

last night i had a dream that featured reid and erin and cobb

we used to be the 'dream team' back in high school & college

the dream was weird and i don't fully remember the plot but i do remember waking up very sad and confused

i dont associate with them at all anymore and that might be for the best

but somehow reid keeps coming up in my dreams, i had one the other week where they asked me "is this separation working for you? it's not working for me" basically asking to come back into my life

my response in the dream was "i dont think about you at all anymore" which isn't entirely true obviously, but i've definitely moved on quite a bit

it's almost exactly 2 years since they left my life (sept 24), so i'm sure that's why this is coming up in my dreams

but that also means it's been almost exactly 2 years since i last self harmed (oct 3) and i'm glad about that

when i reached 1 year clean from SH back in 2022 i told justin that i wasn't sure who to talk to about it, since the person i usually told was the reason it happened in the first place

and justin was very very supportive, kind and reassuring

i'm really sad that i'm not sure he would be anymore

i have a little more capacity to handle these kinds of things now that ive quit my job that made me suicidal

but i still want to have that extra support, extra care and i don't know how to have that need met, if that makes sense

idk im just low-key sad underneath everything and all of the progress i've made. its just that im not using drugs or self-medicating to deal with it

idk bye

#things

[your-sweet-cookie]

What’s your all-time favorite memory?

I have many wonderful memories, but perhaps one of my all-time favorite memories it's one of the first interactions I had with my dear beloved Niragi! I remember it even now... It was during the start of my first year of University...

~ Flashback ~

The beginning of the University year! A time full of energy and movement due to the swarms of students arriving back for another semester full of work, projects, studying, parties and stress, so that they could get ready to readjust themselves to the campus life, or if they were freshmen, to accommodate to this new form of lifestyle.

Kukki just so happened to be one of the first years of that new school year and since she'd just arrived at the Tokyo University's campus for the first time, she was a bit disoriented on top of being somewhat nervous. This was the start of a new chapter in her life, a new beginning, and she was rather excited and a bit scared about what was to come next. She was curious about the kind of people she will meet here and eager to study the realms of the human mind. So Kukki was determined to not start it on a wrong foot!

But as it happens, her luck wasn't soo great and in her first day there, she'd already managed to get lost while looking for the dorm rooms...

That was probably to be expected for someone as unlucky as she was, the silver haired though to herself after wandering aimlessly around the giant University grounds for the last one and a half hours, as she stopped all hopeless on one of the many courtyard benches. She heaved a deep sigh and rested her face in her hands.

What was she going to do? She couldn't spend all day looking for a dumb building! Plus, on top of that she had to organize her stuff in the new room, get the week schedule for the semester, finish delivering her documents to the secretariat and some other minor, yet annoying administrative things that had to be done before the start of school.

The young woman heaved a deep sigh. It couldn't be helped, at this rate she had to go on and ask one of the older students or staff members for instructions on where the freaking dorm rooms were located. Of course, that would've been the right thing to do from the very start, but given her shy and somewhat antisocial demeanor, talking to strangers came kinda hard for her and that's why she avoided that for the time being, struggling on her own. But now she didn't have any other choice, unless...

'I'm saved!' A big smile illuminated her gloomy features when her gaze landed on a giant billboard showcasing the full map of the campus. 'Why the heck haven't I seen that earlier?!' Kukki thought to herself and got up from the bench, starting to hurry towards the life saving map. But as she was walking fast like that, only paying attention to the billboard in front of her and nothing else, the young woman didn't even realize the other person coming from the side, staring at their phone screen, which caused the two to collide into each other.

Next thing she knew, Kukki was lying on the ground, with her luggage next to her and the documents she was holding just moments ago, scattered all around her on the grass. 'H-Huh?' She blinked for a few moments, as if trying to register what the heck just happened and the next thing she heard was an angry voice, reprimanding her. "Hey, look where you're going!" The voice startled her and rendered her even more confused than she already was.

Looking now in front of her, she finally noticed the other person, who collided into her as they were both walking, leading them both to fall to the ground. The other one was an older student, probably in his final years, staring annoyed with his brows furrowed at her. Mid shoulder length raven hair brushed in a messy half bun, familiar dark brown eyes, face piercings and a cold stare... Kukki noted the man's features, not even realizing that now she was staring at him. 'Handsome...' Was her next thought followed by a blush, before she was brought back to reality by another scoff and rude retort from the man. "Got a problem?! Stop staring at me!"

"W-What?" Kukki finally muttered, a feeling of awkwardness creeping up on her as she realized that she was in fact ogling at him like a weirdo. "I-I... I was not... Uh... s-staring... I-I..."

"Are you daft or something?! I said watch where you are going! You bumped into me and almost made me drop my phone, you idiot!" Of course, it was his fault for staring at his phone while walking, instead of minding his surroundings, but he wasn't going to admit that and instead threw the blame on her. "But I didn't..." Kukki was still confused, she could've sworn there wasn't anyone in her direct line of vision as she was walking, otherwise she would've avoided them.

"Whatever, I don't have time for this!" He started getting back up, mumbling and grumbling under his breath, but right as he was about to leave, a slight ounce of common sense seemed to reach him, maybe as he realized it was actually his mistake, making him rethink his actions and heave a sigh. The man turned around and stretched a hand out to her to help her get up. Kukki stared at the hand for a few moments then at its owner, before hesitantly accepting it and getting back up on her feet.

"I-I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to bump into you! I don't even know what happened or how and why it happened, since I was looking where I was walking and..." She stuttered an apology, all while she was still staring at him, before he interrupted her. "I said whatever! I don't care about your poor excuses, you've already made me lose enough time! Also, instead of staring at me, you should pick those up before the wind blows them who knows where, since I assume they might be important papers." He pointed at her documents, still scattered on the ground.

"Ah, right, s-sorry again... T-thanks for telling me..." Kukki's blush grew a hue darker at the second mention that she was still staring at him, as she felt the strong urge to facepalm herself for it. Without further ado, she started working on picking up the documents, thinking that that awkward conversation was now done and the other student will just continue on his merry way, since he did make it clear he didn't have time to waste.

But yet again, she was taken aback by the fact that he didn't leave, but instead helped her with the papers, all while still mumbling under his breath words like 'stupid freshmen' or 'dumb idiot making me waste my time', which made the silver haired grimace since he didn't even have any obligations to help her and she didn't even ask him to do it. But whatever, she wasn't going to complain for an extra hand helping her.

"There. This should be all the papers left on the ground." He shoved them into her hands and now turned his back on her to leave for good.

'W-What a strange man...' Kukki thought to herself, still blinking in disbelief at what just happened, before realizing the opportunity that just graced by her. "Hey, wait..." She shouted after him, making the man stop yet again and growl in annoyance. "What do you want now?!" He asked, not turning to face her again. "S-Sorry for bothering you... again... But... D-Do you know where I could find the dorms?" Kukki's timid voice was barely audible, but she still managed to ask the question.

"Are you really fucking stupid or something?! It's the building right next to the cafeteria, aka the one in front of you! It says in bold letters above the freaking door!" He grumbled in frustration and even more annoyance, as if Kukki could've predicted that the cafeteria was situated next to the dorms, which by the way, unlike it, didn't have any 'bold capital letters' plastered above the entrance door to signal that those were dorm rooms.

"Ah... I guess it kinda makes sense for the canteen to be situated next to the dorms..." Kukki rubbed her chin and nodded as if she finally had this sudden revelation. "Thanks a lot!" She smiled joyfully and he sighed again. "Now, if that was all, I will leave!" The man's grave tone made it clear he was fed up of her and wanted nothing more to do with her, so Kukki nodded again and didn't say any other word, allowing him to finally leave, although she maybe wished to at least know his name.

'Maybe some other time...' She continued staring at his back, watching his silhouette grow smaller and smaller as he continued walking away. He was a truly rude young man, but still... Kukki couldn't brush away that strange feeling that made her heart pound in her chest like crazy and the sensation that she knew him from somewhere.

~ End of flashback ~

Yeah... A truly charming memory indeed! Quite an intense way to start your first day on campus, but I'm not too upset about it. Suguru was nice even back then when he tried being all mean! <3

#insights into kukki's past #aib rp #aib roleplay #alice in borderland roleplay #alice in borderland rp #aib oc #aib oc rp #risa of spades #rp with kukki #(( Yeah she literally thought he was 'nice' even if he called her all those rude names and treated her like shit 😂

[soletlunasims]

Ares went back to school for her second and third semesters. She spent all of her time working hard and maintained an A GPA. Between her 3rd and 4th semesters, she came home for break again. During her time at home, Chip aged up.

Ares was always so excited to tell her dads what she had been up to academically. So much so that it became a test of patience to sit in a room with her for longer than 30 minutes:

Chip was begrudgingly listening to Ares talk about one of her classes while trying to enjoy his birthday cake.

Ares: ".... So I told the professor that there must be an error in the text book because all other sources I have researched show that the Landgraab family didn't have any politicians in the family until 1927. Well. The professor was not happy with my observation apparently because he gave me a B- for the quiz that week due to not following the information in the textbook. How can I follow the info if it's so obviously incorrect? So, what? I'm just supposed to pretend that it's right just to save my grade? Well, I did not stand for it. I march right into his office after class and told him that I would get this sorted with the dean. I would present all of my research on the matter to him and get my professor fired for not taking his job seriously. Suffices to say he fixed my grade and I had no more problems with him for the rest of the semester."

Chip jolts himself out of a daydream when he realized Ares finished her story "...... Ares.... Honey. You need to relax."

Ares looks at him confused, " What? I am relaxed. I'm perfectly fine. Why do you say that?"

Chip: "All you ever talk about is school and grades. About how you desperately want to make a good impression, especially to the debate members. You talk about class prep. This is all shit most people gripe about doing and you are doing it all with the notion that it's fun. It's like you don't actually know what fun is. I'll tell you, you didn't get that from me.... Must be a trait of your biological donor." Chip chuckles

Ares gets heated and slams her hands on the table, "I know how to have fun, Dad. Knock it off!"

Chip jests, "Yeah.... and you're totally relaxed, too"

Ares scoffs at him, "Whatever.... I'm gonna go call Gunnar."

Ares leaves the room. Chip smirks to himself "At least that's one thing ya got, kiddo."

-Later that night-

Ares went out with Gunnar somewhere to catch up, leaving Chip and Caleb at home.

Caleb: "Happy Birthday, my King"

Chip blushes, "Stop being such a sweetheart. I can't take it sometimes...."

Caleb blushes back, " mmm I love you"

Chip: "and I love you."

They kiss.

Chip looks at Caleb in awe.

Caleb: "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Chip: "No reason. I'm just admiring your beauty"

Caleb snorts at the remark, " Stop it.... You're too much."

Chip: "Well, you'll be rid of me soon enough. Free to move on to whatever life has to offer you next."

Caleb's sheepish smile turns into a frown, he starts to choke up and it makes it hard for him to speak. "Ahem.....Don't talk like that, Chip. I don't want to think about that. I want to spend every second I can with you. I..... I want to die with you."

Caleb surprised himself with that last statement. Chip is also shocked by it, ".... I ..... I'm sorry I brought it up." He squeezes Caleb close to his body. "Hey..... It'll be okay. No matter what, I'll always be with you. Always a part of you. You'll be okay. You've done it before, yeah? Many times before? It won't be any different."

Caleb lays his head on Chips chest, tears gently rolling down his cheeks. " I think it will be this time.... I have loved before but.... I don't think I was ever in love.....not until you. Now I don't know how to cope without you.... You make it very hard to be immortal."

Chip's eyes also well up with tears as he kisses the top of Caleb's head. "We will be okay... I promise."

They hug like that for a long time before Chip breaks the silence, "Hey..... I'm glad you'll be around when I'm gone."

Caleb sniffles, "Why is that?"

Chip looks into Caleb's eyes, "Well someone is going to have to keep the grandchildren and great grandchildren in check."

Caleb softly chuckles between sniffles.

#the sims 4 #not so berry #The Palette Legacy

[theringers]

turn you on - lando norris

summary: “tell me what it takes to turn you on” turn you on / cherry pools

a/n: hi friends. loved our chat today (it had me actually laughing out loud) and i got carried away with this. it’s also the start of my frat boy au series with all of the drivers that i’ll slowly be working on :)

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, (realistic) sex, fingering etc, you will not be satisfied after reading this i’ll tell ya

You hung your arm over the banister of the stairs, fully engrossed in the conversation you were having with your two friends. Your mind was a bit fuzzy from the alcohol you had drank all day today, but that’s what this summer was for, right?

The tan lines were crisp on your skin from spending long days at the beach enjoying your last bit of freedom before it was time to be an adult. College had finished just a few weeks ago and you were enjoying the start of senior summer.

At your school, it was a tradition for the fraternities and sororities to spend the summer after graduation at the beach. Your group of friends rented a big house to share, as did the other groups of friends in your school.

Luckily, your favorite frat’s house was just a block and a half down the street, so they were readily available for whatever party, game, help, or sexual favors were needed.

This summer was a dream and it was something you waited four years to be able to experience, and afford. You had saved up all of college to be able to spend this summer at the beach and not work. To take a break and celebrate the hard work you completed before you start yourself on a path of hard work for the rest of your life.

The lights in the house were dim and the music was loud, shaking the walls. You were on the second floor but luckily had a vacant store below you and loud bars on both sides.

“Do you know if Charles is coming tonight? I haven’t seen him yet.” You asked your friend. You had been casually hooking up with Charles since the beginning of spring semester. You both knew that it wasn’t going to blossom into anything more than going to each other when you needed a bit of relief. You couldn’t see yourself in a relationship with Charles, ever, so it made the sex a whole lot more fun. No stress and no strings attached.

You were hoping he would show up tonight because you really needed him. You were just feeling needy and wanted him here, but he wasn’t at the beach earlier in the day either. You were hoping he would show and be your partner for beer pong, but Carlos stepped in and took his place, chalking up Charles’ absence to exhaustion.

Your friend was going on about how she wasn’t drunk enough yet and begged you to do shots but your mind was on Charles. You wanted, needed him to bend you over and take you from behind right about now.

You looked down to the living room, having a great view of everyone from the stairs. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest house but it was manageable for this summer. Everyone was going to make dumb drunk mistakes anyway so it’s better they do them on old hardwood floors and cheap couches than the nicest house on the block.

Drunk girls were draped over boys on the couch but you noticed the one, sitting alone, watching you. He smiled when you made eye contact with him. What was he looking at?

You interrupted your friend, not even realizing what she was saying. “Hey, I’ll be right back.” You squeezed past your friends and walked down the stairs over to the boy who was resting on the arm of the couch with his cheesy smile propped up on his hand.

“What are you looking at, Norris?” You hadn’t necessarily been friends with Lando in college but you ran in the same circle. He might’ve slept with one of your roommates at one point or another but it was a blur.

When you came at him with a bit of attitude, he snapped out of his obsessive-looking trance. “Nothing, I just think you look so hot tonight.”

You looked down at your outfit, denim shorts and a tube top, and back to him. “In this?” You laughed.

“In anything.” He was down bad and you could tell already.

“Well, thank you.” You accepted his compliment and your eyes wandered around, looking for a can or solo cup in his hand. “Do you need another drink?” You saw the almost empty red solo cup be pulled from his side into view. He shook it around so you could hear how much liquid was actually in it. Not much.

You grabbed the cup from his hand. “I keep the liquor in my closet upstairs so no one steals it. What are you drinking?”

You tried to decipher what color was in the cup but it was red. Probably fruit punch or something as a mixer. “It was Jameson.”

You made a gagging sound. “Whiskey and fruit punch?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything. I refuse to let you drink this again. Come up and pick what liquor you want.” You held out your hand for him and he jumped up immediately.

As you passed your friends, still deep in conversation on the stairs, they looked at you confused. You were walking up to your bedroom pulling a boy behind you by his hand. “Uh, y/n?” One friend asked. “What about Charles?”

“Oh, please,” you shook it off, “I’m not going to sleep with him.” Lando was probably disappointed but you didn’t care. It was fun. “Plus, Charles and I aren’t dating anyway, so it wouldn’t matter.” That made him perk up, even though you just wanted to go on about your independence.

You dragged him into your bedroom, squeezing past the two queen sized beds crammed into the tiny room. Saving money meant sharing a room for the whole summer. You pulled the closet key out of your pocket and undid the lock, revealing bottles on bottles of any liquor you could dream of. “See anything you like?”

He licked his lips and didn’t even try to hide being obvious about staring right at you. “Yeah, I do.”

“Not happening, Norris. Pick your liquor.”

“I will, if you do a shot with me.”

“If I agree to a shot with you, it’s going to be me that picks the liquor.” You still had your hand on the doorknob, swinging the door slightly trying to make this quick.

He nodded in agreement. “I can do that.”

You bent down to the bottles on the floor of the closet, hearing the glass clink together from the vibrations of the music. You pulled a bottle of some fruity vodka hoping that the flavor would make a shot better.

You rummaged your side table drawer for shot glasses but found nothing. “Looks like we’re just gonna have to sip this one from the bottle,” you said, unscrewing the cap and passing it to him. “Bottoms up.”

He put the bottle up to his lips, puckering when the alcohol hit the skin. Titling his head back, he lifted the bottle and let the fruity vodka burn his throat. He came up with a sour look on his face and stuck his tongue out before passing the bottle to you.

“How bad was it?”

“Bad.” You grimaced, but the alcohol already in your system told you to take the sip anyway. He was right, it was bad. You passed the bottle back to him and he held it in his hand. “I think this might be the first time I’ve spent more than two minutes with you in all four years of college.” You laughed. You always smiled at each other in the halls or said hello out at the bars but never more than that.

“We should’ve talked more,” he said. And again, he was right. You didn’t mind talking to him and he knew how to get under your skin already.

“We should’ve but hey! We’re here now!” You tried to sound all excited, but he just laughed and sipped the bottle again, passing it back to you.

“So,” he said, leaning back onto your bed getting himself more comfortable. “What’s going on with you and Leclerc, really.”

You needed another sip if he was going to ask you about your relationship with one of his frat brothers. “We’re just friends,” you said, your voice raspy from the lingering feeling of vodka.

“Sure,” he said sarcastically.

“I promise, we’re literally just hooking up. That’s all.”

“Sex so bad you can’t commit to it, huh?” He laughed to himself and grabbed the bottle from my hands.

“Oh, you think you’re so funny. The sex is great, thank you very much.”

He silently laughed to himself. “You forget that my bedroom was right next to his at the frat house. I heard you yelling at him one random Saturday night that he wasn’t doing it right.” He continued laughing, acting like he was better than Charles.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling almost desperate for the bottle back. Seemed like you two were just going shot for shot on the bottle. This never ended well. “So? I told him he wasn’t doing it right, I told him how, and he fixed it. It’s not that big of a deal, no one’s perfect at sex.” You looked him up and down with that stupid grin on his face. “The girls you sleep with are probably just too chicken to tell you you’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m not doing it wrong.” He seemed too sure of himself. Someone needed to smack some sense into him.

“That’s cute that you think that.” You pursed your lips and gave him a fake smile.

“I’d prove it to you, but you seem pretty smitten with Leclerc. There’s no reason to try.”

“And I’m not attracted to you so it wouldn’t help your theory.”

His normally confident demeanor was just shot down by your comment. Of course you were attracted to him. What beautiful girl isn’t attracted to a mediocre frat boy who’s had his fingers in more women than a gynecologist? He needed to be knocked off his pedestal.

“Ouch, y/n, that hurts.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“I’m starting to feel like this might be a fun challenge,” he said.

You laughed at him. “If you can make me cum faster than Charles can, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” You shook your head and sipped the vodka again. You were starting to feel it rush through your legs, making everything inside your body feel warm. It hadn’t quite reached your head yet but when it did, you were fucked.

“I’ll take that challenge,” he said, rubbing his palms together.

“I was joking, no need to warm up or anything,” you said, scoffing at him.

You were getting a bit too comfortable on this bed. You were sitting criss-cross facing Lando and the alcohol was making you feel like you needed to be close to someone. You felt like this earlier when you asked your friends about Charles because he always made you feel good. But he wasn’t here.

You were face to face with a guy, who is claiming he is some God in the sheets, and you know it’s not true. It might be a hoot to let him try, but you couldn’t stomach that. He wasn’t attractive to you and you were with Charles. You could just imagine the look on his face if he found out you slept with Lando of all people.

You were reaching the point in your drinking when you knew what you were doing, but made questionable decisions anyway. You could contemplate the consequences of your actions but why now? When alcohol exists and you could have fun? You really needed to feel a release and Charles wasn’t here to satisfy that. And you weren’t going to call him up and beg because he wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Are you sure about this?” Lando stood up from the bed and walked toward the door. “Because if you’re not going to sleep with me, I can’t be in here anymore. I’m getting hard just looking at you.” You looked down and saw a tent forming in his shorts.

You leaned back onto the pillows and slowly spread your legs. You could see his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard and he took a step towards you. “So is that a yes?” He took in the sight of your body, legs slightly spread waiting for him to make you feel good. You nodded in response to him, not wanting to actually agree to this out loud.

“If you can actually make me cum, I’ll help you out with your little problem. I know I’m good at it because men can’t lie to me about finishing when I taste their cum in my mouth.”

You could see his eyes slightly roll to the back of his head at your naughty words. This wasn’t a romantic experience for you, more of a transaction if anything. He was being cocky and you wanted to see if he was as good in bed as he claimed.

You slid your denim shorts and underwear off and pulled your tube top down with them, leaving you completely naked. He had you here and it was his job to make you feel good.

He walked over to you and stood above you, taking in the soft skin that was always hidden by clothes. You looked incredible and he couldn’t believe he got you to take your clothes off. You looked so delicate he was almost afraid to touch you.

His fingers lightly grazed over your folds, earning a shiver from you. They immediately dived into you, an uncomfortable grunt escaping your lips. “Is that not okay?” He asked.

“Well, I’m not wet so that was quite uncomfortable,” you weren’t sure what else to say.

“I’m sorry, I’m nervous.” He shook his head, his brown curls flapping around. He kept his fingers inside of you and started to pump. It started to feel good, the sensation of his fingers sliding into you combining with the wetness that began to form.

He sped up his fingers and you shifted underneath him. “That feels like a jackhammer,” you said. Again, his face fell. He wasn’t used to girls telling him how to do this. You grabbed his hand, still inside of you, and pushed it in and out at a slower pace. “Now, curl your fingers.”

He did as you said, but curled them much too far, still missing your g-spot. “Not that much,” you said and he fixed it. “Perfect.”

You let your head fall back onto the pillow to enjoy the warm feeling inside of you his fingers were causing. It felt good, you couldn’t lie, but Charles was better. Maybe it was something to do with his fingers or his technique but you weren’t ready to tell him that yet.

You reached down once again to grasp his hand. He looked up at your face and you laughed. “Sorry for interrupting, but try using your thumb too.” You moved his thumb onto your clit and he started to rub side to side.

“Does this feel good?” He asked, becoming increasingly more concerned about his skill level in the bedroom.

You sat up and propped yourself up on your elbows. You watched as he worked your pussy with his fingers. “I promise that if you do this you’ll-” you let out a moan when he curled his fingers to the exact right spot. “you’ll have every girl moaning for you.”

You let out a few more breathy moans but the feeling was stagnant. Usually it began to build inside of you but nothing was happening. His fingers felt good but they weren’t getting you anywhere.

“Did you cum?” He asked, slowing his fingers down.

“No,” you giggled, trying not to bruise his ego. “If you want to be a gentleman and put your face down there, you might have better luck.” He kept his fingers inside of you and crouched down, inching his tongue closer to your heat.

Damn, his tongue felt good. That wasn’t something he needed tips on. He ran his tongue through your folds and sucked on your clit. Your hand found his curls and you pushed his head down, hoping it would ramp up the intensity.

Normally when you had Charles between your legs, his mouth was all you could focus on. But with Lando, your mind was wandering. You took notice of the music downstairs and your friends voices chatting it up with the other frat brothers.

“I’m so hard I’m going to explode. I need to be inside of you.” He said quietly against your pussy.

You groaned. “See, Lando, the goal of this was to make sure you can get a girl to cum before you, but hey, I’m not the one losing out on a thousand dollars.” You we’re never going to give him money but it was a funny joke.

“Please let me fuck you?” He was practically begging. So when Charles gets wind of this and Lando says oh yeah man she was screaming my name, so desperate for me, you can butt in and remind everyone that he was begging for you.

“Fine,” you obliged, rolling your eyes. If it would make him happy, why not. At least you would always be able to remind him that he couldn’t make a girl cum.

He pulled a condom from his pocket and tossed his shorts and underwear to the side. He rolled it on quick and moved so he was hovering over you. You looked him in the eyes and laughed. It’s a good thing he was laughing with you or you would have felt pretty bad about laughing in a guy’s face when he couldn’t make you cum. That’s what men get, you thought, but you didn’t want to be mean.

He pushed inside of you slowly, learning from your comments earlier. His size was impressive but it was what he did with it that mattered. What he did with it wasn’t quite impressive.

It was average. You weren’t looking for average tonight. He pumped in and out of you at an average pace and grunted an average number of times and came in an average amount of time.

And when he took the condom off, all you could do was laugh. “I told you so.”

—

You were seated around the long dining room table, made to fit at least fifteen people. Everyone had a drink in hand and a few fingers up as you went around the circle playing Never Have I Ever. The games you played in this house could get intense, and this game of Never Have I Ever had a punishment riding on it. Whoever has done the most things has to skinny dip, but they have to leave their clothes at the house. 3 blocks from the beach.

Lando had only one finger left and you were up to speak. You wanted to get him out so badly and he looked at you with puppy dog eyes, hoping you would spare him.

You two had gotten close since your encounter in the beginning of the summer and you joked about it constantly. No one else knew about it, which shocked you both considering your sorority sisters and his fraternity brothers loved gossip.

You flashed him a sneaky grin. “Never have I ever bet a girl one thousand dollars that I could make her cum. And then didn’t.”

#i had to pick the gif he looks like a proper fuck boy in #lando norris smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #smut prompts #lando norris fic #lando imagine #lando blurb #lando x reader #lando norris x reader

[marvelouspeterparker]

professor’s sweetheart

pairing: professor!tom holland x student!reader

summary: professor holland teaches british literature at your university. you hadn’t expected much when you signed up for the course, but the experience is everything and more than you could have hoped for. 

word count: 15.1k

warnings: there is smut in here but it’s not the main focus (wild, i know)

notes: uh yeah i’d say just don’t fuck your professor? this is purely fictional. be safe, you know how it is <3

also she wrote a professor!harry styles fic, but if i hadn’t read that (over and over) i probably wouldn’t have been inspired to write this. so check out @songbirdstyles​ !

i listened to this playlist while writing it if ur interested :)

give me feedback please!!

“What class do you have next?” Your friend, and roommate Liz asked. You were both walking out of the cafeteria. It was 1:15, you had just finished lunch and you had fifteen minutes until your next class. You pushed the doors open together and braced yourselves as the cool late September breeze hit you, blowing your jackets open. You put both sides of the jacket together in front of you and crossed your arms to block the cold out. 

“Um,” you thought back for a moment, the cold temporarily knocking your senses right out of you. “British Literature.”

If you were being honest, you had taken this course because it fulfilled one of your requirements, but in the end it felt like one of the most rewarding parts of your college experience so far. The material was interesting, and instead of being bored out of your mind throughout the whole hour and a half of class––it was actually entertaining. You had your professor to thank for that.

“Oooh,” Liz twisted her lips to the side to suppress a knowing smile, but the look in her eyes gave it away. “With Professor Holland?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue to hide your smile. “Yes,” you shoved her playfully to the side making her step in a pile of leaves, the crunch under boots loud as ever as it carried through the crisp air. “Shut up.”

You and Liz had been roommates since your first year at university and had now spent four, coming up on five semesters rooming together. Luckily, you really hit it off, and easily fell into a routine together, forming a bond as you ate lunch and dinner together, studied in the library, had dance parties in your dorm, and more. You knew each other inside and out, often having random late night conversations while you procrastinated your work or couldn’t sleep, about literally anything and everything. Bottom line is, you trusted each other, which is why she knew about your sort-of-crush on Professor Holland. 

To be fair everyone had a thing for him, he was just that kind of guy. He was sweet and compassionate and funny. Professor Holland was one of those genuine professors who sincerely cared about their students and their well-beings. He was incredibly understanding. He’d schedule dozens of meetings with his students all in one day just because he wanted to help and make sure they were all alright. He liked to check in every now and then, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

From what you could tell he also seemed like a people person. No matter who he was with, whether it was a student, his teaching assistant Jacob, or his fellow professors––he was always attentive, cracking jokes, enjoying the conversation. Everyone seemed to love him. But you could also tell that a part of him was just a tad bit cocky, but in a joking and love-able way. 

All this goes to show that you spent way too much time thinking about him, and observing him, which could either be seen as really endearing or really creepy. 

“Look I’m just saying,” Liz shrugged, “Enjoy the class.” She nudged you, “I know I would.”

Realizing you were approaching the writing and arts center, and Liz’s next class was in the building across the street, you sent her off. “Yeah yeah, okay. Bye.” You tightened your arms around you and scurried off, skipping a crack in the sidewalk and walking up the steps to the building. You opened the door and were immediately welcomed by a rush of warm air and let out a sigh, rubbing your hands together as you made your way to the lecture hall. 

You pulled your phone out and checked the time, 1:22. You still had 8 minutes to spare. You were still walking and only glanced up from your phone right as you were about to walk into the door and were stopped suddenly when you crashed into a hard chest. You immediately felt two warm hands grasp your arms to steady you and were suddenly enveloped by the smell of tea and mint. 

“Woah! I’m sorry, love, are you alright?”

You froze as you looked up, feeling very much like a deer in headlights as you realized you quite literally crashed into your professor. “Oh––um,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air was escaping you. You cleared your throat trying to save yourself from anymore embarrassment. “I’m fine––I’m sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t looking––” You paused when you noticed the small smile on his face, his warm eyes making you forget what you were going to say.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It was partially my fault as well, I was too focused on––” he seemed to snap out of some trance, straightening himself up as his hands dropped back down to his sides and into his pockets. “Uh, well that’s not important.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket––he was wearing those blue slacks that you thought made his thighs look great, respectfully, of course. He checked the time on his watch and you had to stop yourself from ogling the veins in his arms as he did so. 

He looked up at you, brows furrowed playfully and you actually had to remind yourself to breathe. “You’re almost ten minutes early. You that eager to see me?” He ended his question with a teasing smirk and your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed to string together a response.

“I––um, I just really like this class and you––you’re my favorite professor.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating up as you realized what you just admitted. You had to force your eyes to go back to their normal size after they practically bulged at the realization of what you said. “And I mean, I just happened to get here early so...I thought I might as well get settled in.”

Your professor cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he glanced down at his shoes for a moment then back up at you. “Well then.” He extended his arm, pointing towards the open door of the hall and stepped aside. “Please, after you.” 

You gave him a small smile in return along with a quiet thank you and stepped through the door. But before you could walk over to your seat, you felt him lean over behind you to talk lowly in your ear. He was standing a respectably close distance, but his presence was so overwhelming it was as though you felt him everywhere. His breath caressed the smooth skin of your cheek as he spoke. 

“I’m technically not allowed to have favorites, but I do appreciate that you enjoy having me as your professor, darling.” It shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, really, it shouldn’t have. But something about him referring to himself by his title really did something to you. You took a sharp inhale as you stood up straight, your whole body on high alert as you turned your head towards him, your eyes refusing to look at his and instead finding solace in the fabric of his navy blue button up––which he’d rolled up to his forearms. 

“And if it means anything, I rather do enjoy having you in my class as well.” You snuck a peek at him, lifting your gaze slowly and only caught a glimpse of his soft lips as he smiled before walking over to his desk. 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you walked up the steps to your usual spot in the middle row, near the aisle. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, and the man hadn’t even touched you––well not in the way you wanted him to, anyway. But enough of that. 

You checked your phone again, trying to calm down your heartbeat as you took in a deep breath, 1:28. People started shuffling into the class, the overlapping sounds of chatter and laughter rupturing the energy the room had when it was just the two of you. At 1:32 Professor Holland started the class, getting everyone’s attention smoother than anyone should be able to. You could almost feel everyone’s eyes focusing on him, some weren’t even listening to him, they were just so entranced by how good he looked and the way he sounded––his accent was just so endearing, you had to admit it. 

The hour and a half went by rather quickly but today you were more aware of yourself, of Professor Holland––even more than usual. It seemed as though his eyes would travel to your direction more often, after he made jokes as if to see your reaction, or while he paused in his speeches. 

At the end of the class, despite there being dozens of other students moving around you, you felt as though your professor was watching you as you made your way out of the room. But it had to be your imagination, there was just no way. 

When you got back to your dorm, Liz still wasn’t back yet so you decided to take a shower and spend some time relaxing. You had already done your work for the next day and your other work for the rest of the week––well, you decided you’d do it later. 

You changed into sweats after your shower and hopped on your bed, deciding to switch between your apps for an hour or so––honestly you’d lost track of time. Liz strolled in soon after, closing the door with a loud groan, throwing her bag on the floor.

You smiled, looking up at her from your lying position on the bed. “Hello to you too.”

She grumbled in response, finally looking at you. When she noticed you were already wearing your pajamas she pointed to you, her brows raised. “Good idea!” She immediately went to her drawers and picked out a random pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, changing with lightning speed for someone who was sluggishly groaning not even a minute before. 

She grabbed her phone and sat on her bed opposite yours, cross-legged, facing you. She looked at your face for a few seconds before squinting her eyes at you. “You have something to say. Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face. 

She looked at you pointedly, “Well go on.” 

So you told her about your encounter with the infamous brit today, how you bumped into him, what he said to you, the glances he sent your way. When you finished recounting everything you took a deep breath, “But––this could all just be in my head you know, just me overreacting.”

She stared at you with a dead expression. “Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hey!”

She ignored you, rolling her eyes while she tried not to laugh. “Dude he totally wants to fuck you.” She said nonchalantly.

Your eyes bulged, “W–What do you––What?” 

“Oh please, it’s so obvious.”

You opened your mouth but when nothing came out, you paused and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments you looked back up at her to find her with a knowing smirk on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am, when am I not?” When you were about to speak, she interrupted you. “Don’t answer that. But look, it seems like he’s into you. I think you should hit that.”

“But we––that’s not allowed!” You paused, “Is it?”

She laughed, “A ha! So you do want to!”

“Oh shut up, you already knew that. Everyone wants to, it’s not a big deal.”

She made a face, “Yes, but you’re the only one who actually has a chance at getting it.” 

You looked at her, a skeptical look on your face. “Even if that was true––he’s still my professor…”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah but it’s not like it’s in the handbook or anything. Plus, you’re both legal adults, so. There you have it. You’re free to bone.”

“You did not just say that.”

“But I did.” She smiled, lying down in her bed. “You really could, though. Just don’t tell anybody.” When you didn’t say anything else, she spoke up. “Okay I’m gonna take a nap now. You have a lot to think about.” 

You ignored the last part and went back to your phone, “Yeah you do that.” 

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and night you couldn’t stop thinking about this whole situation. This was bad...Or was it? It seemed all too complicated, that was for sure. You weren’t even sure he looked at you or thought of you that way. 

You fell asleep playing all the pros and cons of hypothetically getting with him, your mind an endless loop of your professor, his voice, how he sounded when he practically whispered that he liked being your teacher. This was all too much.

❊❊❊❊

All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. The tongue, teeth and lips following and leaving marks everywhere the hands traced. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. Your eyes locked in on the ones staring up at you with pure hunger and awe as you ground yourself down on his cock.

“That’s it darling, just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” His lips curved into that oh so familiar smirk. “I taught you well, didn’t I?”

You woke up sweaty, your shirt sticking to your torso, a wet patch on your panties, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of your dorm room. A sex dream. Of course you had a fucking sex dream about him. Fuck. You were just lucky that your next class with him was on Thursday so you didn’t have to see him today. Because that would not help you at all. 

You checked the time on your phone, squinting at the brightness before turning it all the way down, 10am. You got out of bed with a groan and took your toiletries bag and your towel to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower this morning, instead of later on at night. Lord knows you certainly needed one. A cold one too.

You were frustrated, frustrated with yourself for feeling this way about your professor––sure, he was only a few years older than you, but it was the principle of the matter––frustrated that you were overthinking this entire thing, and most importantly you were annoyed because you were extremely horny. 

When you got into the bathroom, you locked the door and set your stuff down. You put your hands on both sides of the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. Who are we and what happened? You sighed and grabbed your toothbrush, brushing your teeth quickly and aggressively, since everything seemed to be a hassle this morning. You’d hoped that once you hopped in the shower, you’d calm down. 

When you made your way inside, you sighed contently at the feeling of the warm water pattering against your skin, freshening you up immediately. Your nipples were still hard, between your legs still wet. So you brought a hand down between your thighs, the other to your breast as you stood under the water––almost as though the water was washing away the sinful act and thoughts right at the source. You laughed at the thought, nope, nothing can wash this away. 

You squeezed your breast and tugged at your nipple, rubbing your sensitive bud just the way you liked. You were still sensitive from...your dream, so it didn’t take long for everything to build up. You couldn’t help yourself, your mind brought back the remnants of last night that you remembered, the way his hands gripped you when he steadied you, the way his arms looked, and you came with a whimper that was louder than you would have liked. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the tiles as the water continued to fall on you. 

When you came back to your dorm, Liz was on her way out but she stopped, raising her brows at you, “So have you come to a conclusion?”

You walked past her into the dorm, “Go to class, Liz.” You heard her cackle down the hallway as you closed the door. 

You got dressed casually, not rushing since there was nowhere for you to go and decided to go to the local cafe near the school. You needed to clear your head and get some work done, and you definitely would not get any of it done in your dorm. Not today, anyway. 

You checked the weather and seeing that it was a little warmer today, you put a sweatshirt on, grabbed your bag along with your phone and your laptop and you were on your way. The breeze felt refreshing this morning as you stepped out of your dorm. Your walk to the cafe was only ten or so minutes but it felt good. 

Stepping into the little shop, you were immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and sweets, surrounded by the sound of light chatter and utensils clattering on the wooden tables. The warm light above you brought a sense of comfort as you made your way over to the counter. The line was rather short so you managed to order your usual drink and snack quickly. As you were waiting for the cashier to hand you your things, your eyes scanned the shop––the ambience was rather nice and the talking almost felt like background noises. You wouldn’t mind staying here to work.

As you gathered your things, you turned around in search of a free table––which would be the deciding factor in whether or not you would stay, you did not want to awkwardly share the small table space with some stranger. You took a few steps into the seating area and almost choked on your breath when you made eye contact with the last person you wanted to see today. 

He smiled charmingly at you, teeth and all and quickly made his way over before you even had a chance to think of escaping. “Y/N!” He stood in front of you, his eyes bright. He was actually happy to see you? He was always happy to see everyone, it didn’t mean anything. 

His voice snapped you out of your annoyingly loud thoughts.  “Fancy seeing you here.” He nudged you playfully, “How are you?” He was wearing a very tight white button up that was unbuttoned until the third, showing a generous amount of his chest, a grey suit and pants, along with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It took you a few more seconds than it should have to process that there were actual words coming out of his mouth.  

You forced a smile onto your face but the more you looked into his eyes, the more genuine it became, almost impossible to wipe off. “I’m good. Was just grabbing breakfast before I start my work. You?”

He raised his cup, “Same as you. Have a bit of time before my next class.” 

You noticed that you couldn’t tell what exactly was in the cup and your curiosity got the better of you. You pointed to the cup clasped in his fingers, “Is that coffee?”

He furrowed his brows in mock offense, “I only drink tea, darling.” He leaned his upper body forward to whisper to you, his cheek almost touching yours, “I’d think you would know that about your favorite professor.” He tutted playfully as he stood up straight again, watching you, a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his eyes as he watched you over his cup, taking a teasingly long sip. 

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, not a clue what to respond. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth he looked down at you, his gaze drifting down and you’d never felt more exposed, despite the fact that you were wearing two layers of clothing. “I like your sweatshirt.” He smiled, glancing down at it before looking directly into your eyes, his head lowered slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped down to see your spiderman sweatshirt looking back at you boldly. Oh––Oh. You lifted your head back up to find him still smiling at you softly, he didn’t seem to be teasing you at all. “Um thanks.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, despite the cool air that swept your legs as someone opened the door to the cafe. “Are you uh–– a marvel fan?” 

He pursed his lips playfully, “Yeah,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah you could say that.” He licked his lips and took another sip of his drink.

Your eyes, with a mind of their own, trailed down the column of his throat, following the vein on the side of his neck, the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the warm liquid. The action almost seemed provocative, in both meanings of the term. 

Suddenly you felt very hot and you knew that you had to get out of there before you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but most importantly him. You perked up, “I uh––I have to go professor, but it was nice talking with you. See you tomorrow!” With that you quite literally ran off, wincing as you turned around, having noticed the way his lips parted as if to speak, a furrow between his brows appearing out of confusion and concern. You really had to get control of yourself. 

You practically berated yourself as you speed walked away. God, that was so stupid. And not to mention, incredibly rude! He’d probably be upset with you now, or maybe even mad. It’s just––unbelievable what he did to you, without even actually doing anything. It took you the entire walk there to realize that you unconsciously made your way back to your dorm––so much for the library. But you’d had enough social interaction for today, so you decided you’d stay there.

You got in your bed and buried yourself under the covers, deciding you needed the comfort of being hidden in your mattress after the embarrassment you’d just experienced. You lied there just staring at the plain, white ceiling for way too long until you let out a loud huff and sat up, before grabbing your computer to start your work. 

Deciding to check your college email before you started, since they were incessant and it was easy to miss something, you scanned down the list of messages in your inbox. Your eyes skimmed through the boxes on the left of your screen, notifications that your professors left feedback on your assignments, the weekly newsletter, club events, a message from Holland, Tom––

You shut your computer immediately, eyes bulging as you held your breath. You swallowed thickly, as you stared into nothing in front of you, your eyes barely taking in anything, your mind a big ball of fuzz. 

After taking a few deep breaths, and telling your overdramatic brain to calm down, you opened the laptop again. Biting your lip, you hovered your mouse over the message, reading over the small bits of information you could see in the preview.

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, I just wanted to make  …

You could feel your heart beating through your chest. Oh God––Wanted to make sure what?? The sensible part of your brain said to just open it to figure it out for yourself. But the irrational, idiotic part of your brain was yelling at you to not open it under any circumstance. What if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea? Did he know how you felt about him? Were you that obvious? Maybe he thinks you’re clinically insane and wants to make sure you’re getting the attention you need? You did run off like a crazy person, after all. 

You shut your eyes tight and groaned loudly into your hands. Liz walked in and whistled lowly, taking in everything in front of her. You looked up, confused and looked at the time, realizing it had already been two hours since you first left the dorm, meaning she was done with her classes for the day.

“What’s up?” She took a seat at her desk, propping her legs on the table as she leaned back.

You waved her off, deciding it would be best to let this blow over and ignore it for now. You’d go back when you were in the right state of mind. 

She started telling you about her day and annoyingly, your brain decided today would be the day that it would not shut off. Your brows were furrowed as you tried your best to focus on what your friend was saying, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction, staring up into the air above her as she spoke animated, hands waving around, so she didn’t even notice you struggling to pay attention. 

Your eyes kept flitting back to the screen of your computer, your fingers swiping across the trackpad to turn it back on when the screen’s brightness lowered every now and then. 

Liz looked back at you and stopped her spiel. “Alright what’s up with you?” 

You sighed deeply and looked up at her. “Sorry, sorry. I just––I saw Professor Holland today––”

“Already?” She interrupted you, a goofy smile on her face. “Damn, you work fast.”

You threw the nearest pillow at her, “Shut up! I didn’t fuck him.”

“You should’ve.” She pointed out, holding the pillow to her chest. 

You glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender, then continued, your eyes bouncing from object to object in the room as you babbled. 

“I went to the cafe and I saw him and he came over to me and we started talking––and he whispered in my ear and he was joking around with me and he sipped his tea and he was super close to me and super hot, and I couldn’t handle it so I basically ran off without giving him a chance to say bye.” You took a deep breath, “And then he sent me an email after I saw him and I still haven’t opened it because I’m scared and I don’t know what he said…” You took another breath and looked at your friend, blinking as she just stared at you.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Dude just open the email.”

Your eyes widened almost in offense. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“Yeah you practically fucked in the cafe then you got scared and ran away.” She spoke nonchalantly and you could tell she was fighting off a smile. “Look, eventually you have to open the email anyway, you can’t just ignore it. So just do it and rip the bandaid off.” You were about to speak up when she interrupted you, “I promise it won’t be half as bad as you think. We both know your mind is absolutely filled with the craziest ideas.” 

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, not bothering to argue since you both knew she was right. 

“Shit, I’m starving.” She looked at the time, “Yeah it’s about time for me to eat food.” She stood up, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Can you please get something for me?” She knew you well enough that you didn’t have to tell her what to get. You gave her your best smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“Are you serious.” She looked at you, deadpan, standing like the little emoji of the woman standing in place with her arms at her sides. 

You had to suppress your smile, “What if I see him?” You asked incredulously, lying further in the covers. “I’d rather stay in here and hide, for now.”

“You have class with him tomorrow––”

“That’s why I said for now.”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her things, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you!”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand and walked out the door. 

A few moments passed after Liz left and you sat up yet again, putting your computer on your lap as you swiped the trackpad, making the screen light up again. You checked the time, it had been almost an hour since he sent the email, you really shouldn’t make him wait any longer. Not that he’s waiting at all, he probably didn’t even notice that you hadn’t responded.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, swallowed your nerves and clicked on the email. 

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, 

I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You seemed kind of stressed when you left earlier and I’m hoping it wasn’t because of anything I did. Can we check in tomorrow in my office? Hope everything is going well. 

Warmest Regards,

Professor Holland

He wanted to meet tomorrow after class. In his office. Alone. 

Oh, fuck. You could hear Liz in your head going Yes, fuck. But you quickly shoved her aside. 

You read over the email about five times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting anything, because that would be even more embarrassing. You clicked the reply button and slowly wrote out your response.

Hi Professor Holland,

Everything is fine, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern. I’m free tomorrow after class if you’re available then.

Thank you!

Y/N

You hit send and not even two minutes later, you received a response. 

Hi Y/N,

Perfect! I’ll see you then :)

Warmly,

Professor Holland

How on earth were you supposed to focus on your work now? More importantly, how were you going to focus in class tomorrow?

❊❊❊❊

The next day, the butterflies in your stomach would not calm down. When you stepped into the class, he was talking to another student and you tried to sneak past to your seat unnoticed. You thought you’d succeeded but once you sat down and looked up, you made direct eye contact with him and you swear you stopped breathing. You barely even recognized the sound of everyone moving around you, getting ready for class to start. 

He parted his lips and reluctantly turned back to the student still talking to him, snapping out of his daze, but not after glancing back at you. You swallowed and sank down in your seat. This was going to be a long class. 

At 1:35, class started. Professor Holland stood up and clasped his hands, making his way to the middle of the floor in front of everybody, his voice reverberating through the room. 

“Good afternoon everybody. Hope you’re all doing well.” His eyes found yours and you bit your lip nervously. You could see him swallow as he watched you, before moving his gaze elsewhere. Was that because of you? Surely, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe you made him uncomfortable. Oh great––

He went on, seemingly unfazed, eyes darting back to you subtly before continuing. The discussion soon turned to the book you’d just been assigned to read. The book was rather lengthy but there were always so many things to talk about within only a few pages––which you loved, so it was taking you all a while to go through everything together in class. 

The conversations often took up a lot of the class time since Professor Holland simply loved talking and he always found everyone’s interpretations interesting and worth exploring––eager to hear our classmates perspectives. He also often said that he was not good at using technology, so he preferred to just talk and show rather than use his computer. Honestly, you found it endearing.

The conversations were always interesting to listen to, people never failed to give you insight on things you hadn’t even thought of before, but sometimes––some people were just a little stupid.

Someone brought up a slightly sexist point that made absolutely no sense but since you weren’t the one to call someone out in front of a room full of people, you stuck to your facial reactions instead of audibly responding. You turned back to the front of the class to see Professor Holland’s opinion to find that he was watching you, trying and failing to suppress his smile. 

He put both hands in his pockets which you found ironic considering they would jump out any time soon––he loved to talk with his hands. His eyes got serious, the smile on his face a little less friendly as he addressed the sophomore who made the comment. “I don’t know if you’re aware of how ludicrously sexist that comment you just made was, but now you know.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Remember to think before you speak. This isn’t to necessarily call anyone out. It’s a warning. Senseless remarks will not only affect my view of you, but your grades as well.” 

He went on and tried to shape the boy’s comment into something appropriate to discuss and you honestly couldn’t focus on anything else he said, you were just looking at him in awe and in shock. Sure, this was the bare minimum, but since it was so rare to see, it was very noticeable and even impressive when you noticed it.

God, you adored this man.

Near the end of class, he announced the next assignment, a paper you’d have to write about a comparison you made between any point in the story, a character, a theme, a hidden meaning, etc. and something in our modern reality, a social norm, a popular belief, etc. Your essays were always very open ended in this class, giving you room to write about almost anything you wanted to. Your professor knew that the assignments would be more enjoyable if there was some choice involved. He truly was good at his job. 

“Look, reading’s hard sometimes, I get it. I’m dyslexic, so trust me, I understand. But I never let that stop me.” He paused to look around the room and it was so silent you could hear each other’s inhales and exhales. The power he had over a room full of around one hundred people was insane, and in a weird way, also turned you on. “I know the book is massive. Listen to the audio books if you have to, I don’t mind. But get the work done either way. It’s not for me, it’s for you. I want you to get the best grade you can in this class.”

“Bring me interesting material. I don’t want to fall asleep reading your work.” He joked and smiled proudly when laughter filled the room. “The essay is due in two weeks. Good luck.”

There were a few thank you’s and goodbyes scattered around the room as he sent everyone off, people scurrying from all sides to the exits. 

You took your time gathering all your things and took a deep breath when the last few people made their way out, silence soon surrounding the both of you. You put your bag over your shoulder and walked down the carpeted steps, suddenly finding the dark grey pattern to be the most interesting things you’ve ever seen––and also watching your steps so that you don’t fall down them in front of him. You could barely hear the soft patter of your shoes as you walked down. When you finally got the main floor you looked up and saw him waiting for you patiently, things in his hands, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s go then, shall we?” You nodded shyly and he led the way, his office only a hallway away from the lecture hall. You found it slightly odd that he didn’t try to make conversation on your way there, since he always loved to. But you tried not to think too hard about it. Maybe he was just tired. 

When you reached his office, he opened the door and let you walk in first. Your eyes immediately scanned the room out of curiosity as you stepped inside, noticing his desk, the wood a dark mahogany which was covered with stacks of papers, picture frames, pens, and a few marvel funko pops––so he really was a fan. You’d never actually been inside of his office before. It was an intimidating thought for you to be in his office with him, alone. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. 

You turned to him and gestured to the chair across from his desk, “Do I just––”

“Please,” he interrupted eagerly. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a seat and he set his things down next to his desk before sitting as well. His hair was coiffed to perfection today, curls sculpted nicely, a dark blue suit on his body with a black shirt underneath. He took off the suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair and you could see his veins and muscles bulging and shifting in his arms as he moved. He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and wow he had nice fingers. You really had to get a grip on yourself––

“How was class today for you? Well, besides that one disappointing comment.”

You smiled, “I always enjoy the class, but yeah that was uh, disappointing as you said.

“I think your interpretations are always very insightful and very interesting. It’s almost a shame that you don’t share them with the whole class but part of me likes it that we keep them between us.” Oh? “Plus, I know how scary it can be talking in front of all those people. I almost shit myself first time I taught that class––”

You let out a surprised laughter and he couldn’t help laugh as well. 

“Shit, sorry! I mean––” He sighed, “Language, sorry. I’m British.” He shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay. Personally I think curse words spice up conversations.” You smiled proudly when he laughed at your joke. 

His smile radiated a more nervous energy after his laughter died off. “When you ran off yesterday, that wasn’t––was that because of me? Because if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, trying to think of a way to explain. “No it wasn’t, well––it kind of was?” You had no idea why you would tell him this, but apparently your mouth was moving without agreeing with your mind first. 

There was almost a pout on his face and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and smooth it out with your lips. “It’s just, well––You make me just a little bit nervous, to be honest professor.” You looked down at your lap and back up at him timidly.

He raised his brows, “Oh––”

Your smile was strained and you wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the floor. 

“Well that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He looked at you almost, hopefully?

You laughed, “No trust me, it’s not.” Your eyes widened at the realization of what you’d basically just admitted to him and you didn’t know if you should feel embarrassed or relieved when the smirk appeared on his face.

But the words that he uttered next cleared that up for you. “Well, if I’m honest, you make me nervous too, darling. And definitely not in a bad way.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, almost teasing you with how good he looked.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, crossing your legs, your thighs squeezing together, and he definitely noticed, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked his lips as well. 

The tension in the room was so thick but you found that you didn’t want to escape it, if anything you wanted to carve your way through it, stay for as long as you could until it snapped. 

Your professor spread his legs, his hands coming down to rub at his thighs as he watched you and the sound of your heartbeat pounding filled your ears. It was almost as if there was an unseen force pulling the two of you together, but before it could there was a knock at the door. 

The both of your heads snapped to the door to find it opening slowly. Jacob, Tom’s teaching assistant popped his head in. You had talked to him a few times, he was always very nice. He didn’t attend every class, but you guessed that he would be attending the next one. “Hey man.” He turned to you and smiled, “Oh hi Y/N.” You waved and let out a small hi in response. He turned back to the professor. “Your next class is starting like––” He looked at his watch. “Now.” 

“Shit, sorry man. Lost track of time.” He got up and you did too, smiling sheepishly as you grabbed your things, getting up from your seat. “I’ll be right there.” Jacob nodded and closed the door.

You both made your way over to the exit slowly, still reeling from what maybe could have happened and what you both obviously thought of. The silence was loud around you, but it wasn’t scary this time. 

“Let me know if you need any help with the upcoming assignment, alright? Don’t be afraid to stop by if you need to.” His gaze dropped down to your lips for a split second before reaching your eyes again. “For anything.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t describe but quickly tried to mask it with a smile as he opened the door for you, his eyes practically holding yours captive. 

“Thank you, professor. I will.” 

You stepped out and he watched you for a few moments before closing the door. You looked back, smiling as you caught his eye and as soon as he stepped back in the office, you practically ran out of the building and to your dorm, a stupid grin on your face. 

“Holy shit.”

❊❊❊❊

When you practically burst into your dorm room, scaring Liz half to death before you told her what happened, let’s just say she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“I fucking told you!” She flopped onto her bed, still staring at you pointedly as she did so, a smirk on her face. She pointed at you before dropping her hand down dramatically by her side. “You like, owe me a soda now or something.” 

You rolled your eyes but you were so giddy the smile still hadn’t dropped from your face. “Well I do owe you for getting me lunch yesterday, so maybe I will buy you one.”

❊❊❊❊

Over the weekend, you started working on the essay for British Literature and you were already about halfway done since the topic you chose actually interested you. But you found yourself questioning if you were writing it properly as you went on. You weren’t sure if it was because you wanted it to be near perfect since you’d found out he paid extra attention to you, or maybe you just wanted to talk to him again––you’d never know. 

After discussing with Liz, you decided you’d stop by his office on Monday afternoon once you were done with your classes. You knew he liked to stay in his office until late at night sometimes, he always said we could stop by whenever, if we needed something. So you decided to take advantage of that, shoving down your anxious thoughts and doing what you wanted. 

Liz may or may not have convinced you to wear a shirt that was––aesthetically pleasing, to put it, specifically in the chest area so you were more than eager to see your professor’s reaction. You were a little nervous, you didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard, but you thought you looked good in this shirt, and you had a right to feel good about yourself. Since it was a little chilly outside, you hid it under a sweatshirt for now.

You got to his office and found yourself staring at the dark wood, hesitating to knock on. After taking a deep breath you rapped your knuckles against the door. 

You heard a faint Come in! And you took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to find him sitting at his desk, “Hi Professor Holland.” He was finishing some notes on a student’s essay but his head snapped up immediately at the sound of your voice.

He dropped his pen and sat up, “Please,” he motioned to the seat across from his desk and you smiled gratefully before settling down. “What can I do for you? Everything alright?”

His eyes looked sincere and concerned and you could feel your insides melting a little bit. 

“I just––I really want to do well on this essay,” He nodded for you to continue, “But I’m just not sure if I’m going in the right direction.”

 He nodded understandingly, “Well let’s have a look, shall we?”

You reached down to grab your things when he stood up and walked past you, your eyes following him in confusion. He gestured to the couch, a somewhat impish smile on his face. “Just thought it would be more comfortable––and easier for us to look together, of course.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you picked up your bag and sat next to him on the couch. “Right, of course.” It was a loveseat so there wasn’t much room for either of you to distance yourselves.

You got out your computer and opened up the essay. You had already opened it before you got there, not wanting to have to awkwardly wait for it to load. Yes, you overthought things but––it helped sometimes. “I see you came prepared,” he joked and you couldn’t help but smile. He really did notice everything, didn’t he.

“Well I’m really confident about the topic of my essay, I think it’s interesting. But I feel like I may be adding too much into the paper, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking things or if I should take some things out.” 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I meant it when I said I appreciate having you in my class, you know. I always love reading your work. You write well.” 

“Thank you, professor.” Though you saw his eyes darken at the title, he commented on it.

“You can call me Tom when we’re alone, darling. No need for formalities.”

“But I like calling you professor––” Your hand shot up to cover your mouth and you spoke before he could, ignoring his smile, “I mean um. Tom––Okay I can try that.”

His tongue passed under his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “No you know, now I think professor is growing on me.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Prof––Tom.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright.” 

“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s easier to see where you can improve when you hear it out loud.”

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head as you brought your laptop closer to you. “O––Okay.”

You started reading your paper out loud, voice becoming slightly steadier as you went on, two fingers scrolling up the trackpad. He made comments as you read, only praise––and with each compliment you felt yourself getting hotter. Very good. Always write so well. Nice point there. Mhm. Good girl, that’s an excellent point. He shifted his way closer to you gradually as you read on and when his thigh touched yours, you had to tell yourself not to jump from the contact.  

He placed his arm on the back of the couch, basically around your shoulder and you had to smush down the urge to throw your computer and climb into his lap. His thighs did look very inviting with the way he was sitting, though. 

He moved closer to you and you could feel his breath cascading down over your shoulder as he brought his hand to the trackpad, his arm over your thigh, fingers scrolling through to where he had a few suggestions. 

When he finished his few remarks, you could hear the proud smile in his voice. “See, I knew it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. You’re a good writer...” He paused and you turned your head slightly to find his lips mere inches from yours, his eyes trained on your mouth. His words were barely a whisper when he spoke up again, “A good student.” You both leaned in slowly and his hand came up to hold your cheek lightly. “Bet you’d be a good girl for me too.” 

You gasped lightly and leaned forward, giving in and finally pressing your lips to his, both your hands grabbing his jaw. He moaned immediately, his body pressing into yours as you twisted to face him, his other hand coming around your waist to pull you in. You felt your laptop slipping off your thighs and squeaked, making the both of you laugh and pull away, flustered. 

“Careful, love.” Tom grabbed the computer and put it down on the floor gently, confirming that you saved your work before pushing the lid closed. 

The air in the room was hot, thanks to Tom in general, but also thanks to what you just did. So you pulled away and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Tom’s pout when he thought you were getting up to leave. Since there wasn’t much space on the couch, you stood up to take your hoodie off and you heard his breath hitch when his eyes fell upon the shirt you were wearing. “Christ-”

“Now what’s this?” Tom said almost to himself, his eyes staring at you in wonder and awe. “Never seen this little number before.” He noticed the clothes you wore? His hands were already aching to feel you again, reaching out for you subconsciously and you bit your lip to calm your smile as you sat back down, letting your sweater fall to the floor softly. 

“What, this old thing?” You joked, looking down at the shirt––yeah, you looked good. “You like it?” You looked up at him, a cheekily innocent look in your eyes.

He put his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap, enjoying the gasp it elicited from you. You put your hands gingerly on his shoulders and the way he was looking up at you made you never want to leave this position ever again. You tilted your head and licked your lips and Tom couldn’t take it anymore, he kissed you again, hands gripping you firmly, anchoring you to him. He pulled away after a good while, wanting to look at you again, his lips parted, practically panting like an animal. You really had an effect on him, but he did the same to you. 

His eyes were taking you in, basically capturing a mental image for later. “God, you look heavenly, darling.” You squirmed in his lap and bit your lip when you felt a bulge growing underneath you. He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses on the tops of your breasts, leaving a few teasing nips and sucks here and there. You squealed, your hands coming up to run your fingers through his hair. You pulled his head up by his hair and the look in his eyes looked absolutely feral––like he wanted to eat you. 

You were about to lean in and kiss him again when a knock at the door surprised the both of you. You both jumped off of the couch as Tom threw out excuses. “Yeah just a second!” You straightened out your shirt as Tom did the same to his pants and you picked up your things. 

When he saw that you were settled, he took a deep breath and answered the door. His colleague and best friend Professor Osterfield, was standing there, a grin on his face. “You div, are you ever going to be on time for our monthly meetings?––” He stood up straight when he noticed you standing behind Tom. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” He looked between the two of you and it seemed as though he pieced everything together. Maybe Tom had told him about you? If he did, you wouldn’t be worried Tom didn’t seem like the type to tell unreliable people his business––and they were best friends after all.

You smiled at him in acknowledgement as moved aside to let you pass. “Sorry,” you looked between the both of them, “I’ll let you get to whatever you have to go to.” You looked at Tom once you were out of his office, “Thank you for the feedback, professor.”

You could see him fighting off his smirk before he replied, “Of course.” His stare was impenetrable as he looked at you, “Feel free to come by whenever.” You could see the hidden meaning in his words and let the hint of a smile show, before nodding and walking off.

Harrison looked at him, a pitiful smile on his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mate. You should be careful, for the both of you.”

Tom sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “I know, man. Let’s go.” 

❊❊❊❊

You found yourself missing Tom as soon as you left. God, this was kind of pathetic. But at least your feelings weren’t necessarily one sided––he did say you made him nervous too after all. You doubt he’d say that if he just wanted to fuck you––he was better than most men. And sure you might be a little biased, but at the end of the day he had a good heart and he was educated. So bonus. 

When you stepped into your dorm, your roommate was sitting on her bed, snacks in hand as she looked at you expectantly. “Now these,” she gestured to the food on her bed, “are either for a story time, to rebuild your energy or both.” 

You laughed and changed into your pajamas, starting to tell your best friend about everything that just happened. She often interrupted with her reactions and comments.

Oh. My. God.

Shut. Up.

You’re fucking lying! 

“But we didn’t fuck.”

“Boo––”

“Yes, boo.” You laughed, “Professor Osterfield knocked at the door and dragged him off to a meeting so.” You shrugged.

“Professor Osterfield...is that the hot blond one?” You nodded and she continued expressing her feelings for the man. “I’d let him teach me a few things––”

“Literally bye.”

She laughed, “What? Come on have you seen him––”

“I’m a little preoccupied with another professor to be honest.”

She nodded, handing you a bag of chips as you settled in your bed. “True. And oh how lucky you are.” You smiled in agreement. 

❊❊❊❊

Today was the day the essay was due and though you normally handed it in at the beginning of class, for once, you didn’t and you could feel Tom’s gaze following you as you walked up the steps to your seat without so much as a glance in his direction. You’d stopped by his office a few times over the past two weeks since Harrison interrupted you, but you never did anything more than kissing and grinding. You were both too scared of getting caught, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t thought about doing more in there.  

Tom liked to have physical copies of the essays, just in case technology decides it’s against him (his words), so everyone had until 8pm tonight to drop it off by his office. You were definitely going to use that to your advantage. 

You didn’t wear anything provocative to class, you didn’t really want that kind of attention today, plus you knew that Tom’s interest in you wasn’t solely based on your appearance. So you put the revealing items on under your clothing. And honestly, the thought that no one knew what you were wearing underneath it all only excited you even further. 

You crossed your legs, relieving your tension and biting your lip as class went on, enjoying how flustered Tom would be every time he looked at you. You felt so submissive when you were alone with him, but when you were in public like this? Free to tease him subtly from a distance? That’s where you had all the power. 

You had him blushing and stuttering throughout the whole class, though it wouldn’t have been easy for everyone else to notice, for you it was so obvious. He kept rubbing his hands together, pacing around as his eyes darted to you every few minutes. At one point he went over to sit down at his desk, which he rarely did while teaching––and you were fairly certain it was to hide a bulge in his pants. All thanks to you. 

In the middle of the class, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and pulled it out just to see if it was an emergency. You were pleasantly surprised and could feel your whole body react when you noticed who the message was from.

Tom: Having fun, are you?

Your eyes shot up to the front of the room and you bit your lip to contain your smile when you noticed him glaring at you.

Y/N: I always have fun in this class, professor ;)

You put your phone away afterwards and focused on the class, knowing it was killing Tom that you weren’t giving him more attention. Your heart was racing and your panties had a wet patch by the time class was over. You had a feeling he was going to try to keep you after class, so you hurried up and gathered your things, sighing in relief when a few students went up to his desk to talk to him. 

You smirked to yourself and headed straight for the door, your head high on your shoulders. But just as you were about two feet from the exit, Tom spoke up. 

“I assume I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned around, eyes slightly widening as you noticed him, the group of students near him.

He smirked slyly, “To turn in your paper, remember?” His eyes were giving you a knowing look.

You swallowed, nodding as you smiled at him innocently. “Of course, professor.” You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened only slightly, only noticeable to you. “See you then.” With that you walked out.

❊❊❊❊

You practically skipped to his office at around 7:45, before knocking at the door, four knocks in a specific pattern––the code you’d made together. 

“Come in, darling!”

You walked in and quickly shut the door, a chuckle escaping you. “You know someone could hear you from the outside one day, right?”

He shrugged, “I’ll just blame it on my accent. Could call everyone darling, they don’t know any better.”

You laughed. “Okay well––Professor Holland,” you said, loving the way he looked at you when you uttered his title. “I brought this for you.” You took out the printed essay and placed it on his desk.

He pushed his chair out, his eyes following your every move as he spread his legs. “Oh is that right?” 

You took the invitation and took your reserved seat in his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you looked down at him. “Mhm, still want a good grade in this class you know. You are my favorite professor after all.”

He smirked smugly, licking his lips. “And you,” he kissed your lips before pulling away briefly, “Are my favorite girl.” He brought his hands up your back and pulled you into him as he kissed you again. This time, longer and deeper, wanting to feel you as much as possible. “Teased me so much in class today.” You smiled into the kiss and he continued, “Almost wanted to take you over my knee right there in front of everyone.” 

You moaned audibly and he brought his hand up to your neck, gripping you softly but firmly, giving you room to pull away if you didn’t approve. When you leaned further into his grip, he grinned and pulled you closer. You started grinding down on him, basking in the desperate groans and sighs you were coaxing out of him, the way his movements became more frantic as he bucked into you. 

After debating with yourself in your head for a moment––struggling to think properly with his hands all over you, you got off of his lap and smiled at the small whines of protest he let out before reaching for his belt. You made eye contact with him and noticed how wide his eyes were, hopeful, hungry, but hesitant. 

His hands reached for yours, “You don’t have to, darling. If anything I should be doing this first. God knows I’ve thought about it.”

You pouted, trying your best to ignore his words and focus on the task at hand. “But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “I wanna make you feel good, professor.” He nodded, barely able to speak.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?” 

You nodded eagerly, licking your lips as he pulled himself out of his trousers. “More than anything. Wanna make up for earlier.” You got down on your knees, mouth practically salivating at the way his member stood tall against his abdomen, his tip leaking with precum. 

Your hand wrapped around him just as a knock sounded at the door. Professor?

The both of your eyes widened, the both of you looking around for some sort of answer before he ushered you under the desk, tucking himself back in hastily, pulling his chair as much as he could and sitting at the edge, hiding his unbuttoned and unbuckled pants. Luckily for the both of you, the back of the desk reached the floor, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you hiding underneath. “Uh––Come in!”

The person walked in and you recognized the sound of her voice, she often spoke up in the lectures. You couldn’t remember her name, though. You do, however, remember that she often spoke up only to get Tom’s attention. You’d heard her gush about him in the halls just outside his class in the hopes of him hearing her. You couldn’t blame her, but the thought still irked you. “I just wanted to give you my paper. I hope it’s not too late.” 

Tom checked the time on his watch, 7:58. “Nope,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to compose himself, “Not too late at all, in fact just in time.” 

She handed her paper to Tom and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying his best not to think about the fact that your hands were trailing up his thighs and that he could feel your warm breath hitting the exposed part of his member––he really hadn’t payed attention when he tucked himself back in. 

Before he could send the girl who’s name you still hadn’t remembered off, she took a seat across from him and he swallowed nervously, a little frustrated since he was so close to getting his cock in his girl’s mouth. 

It seemed that you somehow read his thoughts because as soon as the girl kept talking for another two minutes, you pulled his member out and stroked him, licking up his shaft and he tensed, taking every ounce of self control he had not to look down at you. His hand reached down and held your cheek gently, just wanting to feel you. You nuzzled into his palm and he had to bite his lip to suppress his smile, not wanting the student across from him to think his endearing expression was meant for her. 

You honestly completely tuned out all the words she was saying, your sole focus pleasuring Tom. But you didn’t miss the flirty and falsely innocent tone in her voice. You couldn’t see her but she was no doubt batting her eyelashes at him as well. 

When she made a comment about how good his shirt looked on him, you couldn’t help yourself, you sucked his tip into your mouth with no warning, making him groan unexpectedly. You paused, eyes wide and playful as your mouth stayed around him.

“Are you okay professor?” 

He let out a strained smile, “Yes, Emma, Sorry––” So her name was Emma. “I just uh banged my knee on the desk.”

She hummed a small okay and went on.

He caught your eye, trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but boy was it hard. Especially when you were looking up at him like that, with his cock in your mouth. You licked around his tip and lowered your mouth around him and he had to force himself to focus on the girl who was still talking to him.

You were not playing fair but quite frankly you didn’t care. You were making him feel good and yourself too. Your hand was pumping him, your tongue swirling around him as quietly as you could, while your other hand found its place between your thighs. 

In the middle of Emma’s speech, Tom’s eyes drifted down and widened, his breath getting caught in his throat when he noticed your other hand, moving between your legs. He stuttered out an excuse, unable to tear his eyes away from you for a moment, “Uh, Emma I’m so sorry––I just have so much work to do, but feel free to come back––” he paused to swallow when you sucked harder around him in reaction to his invitation. “Come back next week if you have any problems or anything else you’d like to discuss.”

She hesitantly but respectfully said goodbye and was on her way, closing the door behind her.

Tom’s hands immediately shot down to hold your head, his mouth dropped open as he watched you, approaching his high. “Shit, that’s it darling that’s it. So fucking good for me.”

“I’m gonna cum––” he warned. You simply hummed around him and sped up your movements, feeling yourself clench as he panted, his hips bucking slightly as he came into your mouth. You unfortunately weren’t able to cum but you were sure there’d be other chances. You popped off of him and swallowed his load before licking up his length teasingly slow. “Fuck, such a good girl.”

He pulled his chair out and brought you up to stand between his legs, tiling his head to look up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs absentmindedly. “Was someone a little jealous?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing to fix your annoyed facial expression. “Maybe.”

He tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, chuckling as he squeezed your cheek. “I’m yours.” He pecked your lips, before looking in your eyes, “And I’m most definitely repaying the favor when we get home. I mean––if you want to, of course.” Home. 

You couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah––Okay.” 

You’d never been to Tom’s house before so this felt like sort of a big deal to you, but you were going to try and calm your racing thoughts and heart. You and Tom agreed that you would go around the corner of the building for him to pick you up in his car, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you.

As soon as you were settled in, seatbelt on, Tom drove off and honestly the thrill of having to hide was exciting to the both of you. His hand was gripping your thigh throughout the whole drive and you could tell it was meant as a reminder that he was there for you, but also that he could barely contain himself. 

Seeing Tom drive you, the flashing street lights illuminating his face, highlighting his jawline, his hand gripping your thigh––this was a sight you knew you wanted to see more. The intimacy of it all made you warm inside and the feeling of Tom’s fingertips digging into your skin only riled you up further.

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and he smiled at the feeling of your soft lips drifting over his skin. “Darling––” His words were cut off by a harsh moan when you trailed your lips down to his sweet spot, the noise almost too loud for the quiet, tense air in the car.

You teased, licked and bit at his skin, not afraid to leave marks. It was Friday now, if anyone saw them on Monday, they would just assume he’d had an eventful weekend. Honestly, the thought that no one would know that you were the one who left those marks excited you––it would be a secret between you and Tom, a thing for the two of you to share on your own.

Tom’s hands were now gripping the wheel and your thigh with force, trying to get his bearings. “You’re being very naughty today, love. Can’t say that I don’t love it though.”

You smiled sinfully into his neck, continuing your actions. Your hand slid over his thigh teasingly slow to rest on his bulge, fingers squeezing ever so softly and he practically jolted in his seat. “Christ––love unless you want me to crash this car I suggest you stop.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how much you’d riled him up. He almost whined at the loss of contact, subconsciously upset that you’d actually stopped. But as your hand reached back down to find its place between your thighs, his tone shifted. 

“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine. That’s my job.”

You actually felt a shiver pass through your body and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his dominant voice, excited for what was to come.

When you made it to his apartment, you barely had time to take in the scenery and take off your shoes and jackets before he dragged you to his room. But from what you saw, the decor was simple but elegant, much like Tom. His bedroom was the same, but again, you weren’t too focused on it.

He turned on the dim light in his room, wanting to be able to see you as he pleased you. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your waist, looking deep into your eyes. “You still want this?” 

You nodded absolutely certain. “Want you to take me.”

His pupils dilated and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, licking his lips, eyes widening when he noticed what you were wearing and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Christ, were you wearing this all day?” 

You nodded again. “The underwear’s matching too. Wanna see?”

He got down on his knees, a teasing but desperate tone to his voice. “You’re a smart girl, don’t ask stupid questions.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your socks, mouth dropping open as he got to see the full set. 

You ran your hands up and down your body teasingly as he stood up. “Do you like it?”

He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, “Again with the silly questions, love.” He leaned in to kiss you, pulling away to take off his clothes. “You look like a goddess, darling.” You could feel your skin heating up from his words and his stare. He pulled you in for another kiss before bringing you onto the bed.

You lied down in the middle and spread your legs, waiting for him eagerly as he lied down between them. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you, love.” 

He pulled your panties over to the side and licked into you, his tongue softly swiping through your folds. His eyes rolled back as he moaned into you, “Taste just as perfect as you look.” He slid his hands around your thighs and pulled you in closer, smiling at the small squeak you let out.

His tongue was exploring you, finding all the spots and all the tricks that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He was keeping this all to memory, memorizing the way you feel, the way you look. When your breaths quickened and your fingers tugged at his curls, he locked his arm around your stomach, slid one, then two fingers inside of you and sped up his movements, moving his head from side to side as he hummed onto your clit. 

Your body tensed and you held onto him for dear life as the knot in your stomach gave out, the pleasure spreading all throughout your body. Your mouth dropped open in ecstasy, your neck craning back and Tom couldn’t look away from you. You looked like a painting and he wanted to commit it to memory. 

He let go of you and kissed his way up your body, soothing you with his lips. Your legs were still twitching slightly, your stomach clenching and unclenching when his kisses reached your cheek. “Look so pretty when you come for me.” He kissed along your jaw, “Can’t believe you’ve deprived me of such a beautiful sight for so long.” He kissed your lips and tugged your bottom one between his teeth, before looking at you, eyes wide, “You gonna give me the privilege of seeing it again?” 

You smiled, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks. “You can see it whenever you want. As long as you’re the one making it happen.” You pulled him to you and kissed him, the both of you moaning into the small gaps between your mouths. 

He started to pull away but you whined and pulled him back making him smile. “I’ve gotta get a condom, love.”

He tried to get up again but you pulled him back down, “M’on the pill Tommy.” You looked up at him, pouting and he almost gasped––the effect you had on him was insane. “Just fuck me please.”

He didn’t need anymore convincing, grabbing a hold of his cock and swiping it through your folds, groaning out loud at how good your wetness felt. You bucked your hips and realizing you were getting desperate, he finally slid into you and all your senses immediately tuned into him. 

Just like your dream––All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. 

His eyes were watching your face, taking you in as he thrusted into you, making sure you were enjoying everything he was giving you. You felt absolutely amazing and so did he. “So perfect for me, darling. That’s it.” He bit his lip and sped up, making your jaw drop as you stared into his eyes, completely open and vulnerable to him. His touch was tantalizing, even better than your fantasies which only meant you’d become more addicted to him and what he could do to you.

He grunted, angling his hips when he found your spot, hitting it over and over, bringing his hand down to play with your clit. “Told you I wanted to see you cum again, pretty girl. So you’re gonna cum then I’m gonna fill you up. That sound okay?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes watching his every move as your hands gripped his arms, your thighs burning invitingly as they stretched around him with every thrust. Then you uttered that one word that always had him almost inappropriately weak for you. “Want to be full of you, professor.”

His jaw slacked and he paused for a slight moment before picking up his pace, faster than before, hips chasing after both your highs, fingers still rubbing you just the way he learned, just the way you liked. “Fuck-–”

A few more thrusts and flicks of his wrist and you were tensing under him, your pussy clenching around him as he let out broken curses and moans, losing his rhythm and releasing into you with a groan. 

He rested some of his weight on you for a moment, the both of you smiling and laughing breathlessly as you took in the moment. Your hands came up to play with his curls and he sighed, leaning into your touch. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and left a few soft kisses, coaxing some sighs from you as well.  

After a moment, he rolled over and took you with him, making you nuzzle further into him, his arm wrapped around you, your leg slung over his waist. His hand was rubbing up to your ass and down to your thigh, lulling you to sleep while simultaneously riling you up again. 

He kissed your forehead and you kissed his chest in response. “That was fucking amazing, love.”

You nodded and hummed in agreement, “Even better than my dreams.”

He pulled back to look at you, you could hear his heartbeat quicken and you tried to hide your face in his chest. “You had dreams about this too?”

That made you lift your head up to look at him. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t joking but you were still slightly shocked. “Too?”

He smiled, licking his lips, “Well maybe we should discuss them, and try them out for ourselves.” His hand found its way between your legs again, making you moan but that didn’t stop you from responding.

You nodded, “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned, “See, I knew I taught you well.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, “My girl’s the perfect student.” 

You spent hours exploring each other's bodies as you reenacted your dreams, both exceeding each other's expectations every time. By the time you fell asleep in each other's arms, it was late at night and you were sweaty, and tired, but overwhelmingly pleased.

❊❊❊❊

The next Friday, it was halloween. Liz had somehow convinced you to go to a halloween party with her. On top of that it was a frat party. And even worse, you dressed up as a school girl because it was all last minute and you didn’t have any time to get a costume. 

“Oh come on Y/N, you look hot!”

You turned in the full length mirror to look at your ass that was almost visible in this mini skirt. “You think so?”

“Duh.”

And that’s all the convincing you needed to go out. You needed a little college fun. You hadn’t been to a party in who knows how long because you were always focusing on your work. You deserved this. Also Liz said it was a celebration of your “lay”, yes, she said lay. 

“I’m just saying you cannot let me get with him again.”

“Liz it’s literally his frat house that we’re going to and we both know you have little to no self control.”

“Well damn. You couldn’t have sugar coated it?”

“What, you want me to throw a packet of splenda on you?” You joked.

She shoved you, “Dude shut up,” she laughed.

You looked down at your bare thighs that were only partly covered by your thigh high socks and rubbed your arms, regretting not bringing a jacket when Liz spoke up again. “Oh shit, is that Professor Holland?”

Your eyes shot up and made direct eye contact with him. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweats but he still looked great as usual. His eyes trailed down your body and soon your shivers were no longer because of the cold. 

“I’ll just wait here.” Liz said suggestively and you walked over to Tom. 

“H–Hi.”

He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, he didn’t know who was around. “Well hello to you too.” He looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face. You rubbed your arms quickly for warmth, and Tom had to control himself to not look at your chest, even though he could see your nipples hardening from the weather through your shirt. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and take you home. 

“Any plans?” You asked.

“No, I'm just about to go home. I’m uh guessing you have somewhere to be?” His eyes traced your figure again.

“Yeah um me and Liz are going to a frat party.” You pointed back to your friend and gave him a small smile and shrug. “She convinced me.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad but he had to restrain himself.

“Be safe tonight, yeah?” His eyes were comforting, as they always were, but this felt almost more personal? Almost like he didn’t want you to go. And honestly, after seeing him, you almost didn’t want to either. You never defined your relationship with him, so honestly right now he was like a friend with benefits––professor with benefits, if you will. 

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “O––Okay. I will. You be safe too!”

His eyes followed you as you walked off, your friend pulling you along, obviously whispering to you, probably about him. You looked so fucking good and everyone else was going to see that too. It’s not like he owned you or anything, but part of him really wished he could claim you, openly care for you and be affectionate. His thoughts were a mix of wholesome and raunchy and he had no idea how to act.

He almost felt wrong but he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his mind, the way you looked up at him sheepishly, the innocent look in your eyes while you were wearing that mini skirt. His cock was bulging in his boxers ever since he first laid eyes on you. When he got home, he made his way to his bed, undressing almost immediately. Lying down in the middle of the bed, just where you were days before brought a flood of memories into his mind, only making his member throb even more. He tugged at his cock, spitting in his hand to make it slick.

Images of you were flashing in his mind as he sped up his movements, desperate for a release. 

He was dying to get a taste of you again. The memory of the way you felt under his fingertips, the way your muscles clenched when he hit the right spots. The way you tasted when you were dripping onto his tongue. The way you looked at him when you came, your lips parted to release broken moans and whimpers. The way your fingers gripped his curls as your body tensed. It was all enough to make him spill over his hand, his breaths coming out in quick pants as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

“Fuck.” He really had it bad for you. 

❊❊❊❊

Tom had texted you during class on Tuesday to meet him in his office when you were done with classes for the day. When you stepped into the room, he locked the door immediately, bringing you over to his desk, his lips chasing yours. Screw worrying about people hearing you, he wanted you. Now. 

“God, just seeing you in that tight little costume––you have no idea how badly I wanted to ravish you. The thought of all those dumb frat boys seeing you in all your glory like that––I was absolutely beside myself.” So that’s what this was about. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his eyes fiercely staring into yours and you nuzzled into his touch, your hand holding his wrist softly and his eyes softened at the sight of you.

“I’m gonna absolutely devour you.” You gasped and he smiled, pulling your pants along with panties down. He sat you down on his desk and got down on his knees, licking his lips. “As soon as I got a taste of you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go without it ever again.” He kissed your thigh, looking up at you. “You gonna let me have a taste again? Wanna make you feel good, lovie.”

You nodded, swallowing roughly, “Y––Yeah. Yes please.”

He chuckled breathlessly, “Such a polite little thing you are.” He kissed his way from your inner thigh to your center before licking a torturously slow stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a sigh and gripped the desk, your fingertips becoming lighter at how hard you were already holding it.

His hands held your thighs open, putting them over his shoulders, holding you in place. His tongue was languidly licking you up and down, savoring your taste and your moans, coaxing them out of you one by one, nonstop. He looked up at you and your breath got caught in your throat, the look in his eyes fierce, almost as if he could see your bare soul and he clearly liked what he saw. He brought his lips to close around your heat after every other swipe of his tongue, passionately kissing your heat. 

“So fucking good, angel. Always the best for me.”

You nodded, licking your lips, one of your hands coming to grab at his curls, making him growl into you. “Only for you, Tommy.”

He didn’t stop his tongue or his lips until you came, your back arching, fingers frantically grabbing for whatever you could hold, lip trapped between your teeth to muffle the moans that so desperately wanted to escape into the quiet air of the room. He kept going until you had to pull his head away from you, overwhelmed by all the pleasure and scared that you would scream and alert everyone in the building about what you were up to.

His hands were caressing your thighs, eyes looking at you in awe, almost too innocently for what you’d just done. He stood up between your legs and leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. 

He pulled away to look at you, hands holding your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. You brought your arms up to link around his neck, looking up at him appreciatively and absolutely spent. “So do you think I should wear school girl outfits more often?”

He laughed, his hands holding you tighter, “If you do, my head is never leaving between your thighs.”

You smiled cheekily, batting your lashes at him. “Promise?”

He’d never gotten down on his knees quicker in his life. Let’s just say it took you another hour before you left his office.

 ❊❊❊❊

Over the past few weeks it had become a routine for you to go over to Tom’s office to seemingly “work on your assignments and review,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to show up unannounced Friday afternoon. Without meaning to, though, it seemed you showed up a little too early, and ended up overhearing part of Tom and Harrison’s conversation. 

“I can tell Y/N means a lot to you, mate. Don’t lie.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you skidded just in front of the door, about to turn the corner inside. You backed up and stayed pressed to the wall. Luckily no one really stopped by this side of the building at this time on a Friday, so no one would find you snooping around in the middle of the hallway. 

“No I just––”

No. He said no––Okay you weren’t going to freak out. This always happens in the movies, and then the main character runs away before hearing the most important part and they overreact. So you decided to just...wait it out. 

So you waited and waited. And the more the silence overwhelmed you, the louder it got. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes because you really thought your feelings were mutual. But just as you inched your foot backwards to walk away, he spoke up again, his voice quiet. 

“She means everything to me, man. I––It scares me, honestly. I just don’t want to mess it up.” 

This time the tears fully formed in your eyes, but for the absolute opposite reason. You smiled and wiped at your eyes, not even bothering to hide anymore as you turned the corner, surprising Tom, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. Harrison turned around to see you and his gaze filled with concern as well. 

“Tom––” your voice was quiet but there was a smile on your face. 

“Darling––” He rushed over to you and grabbed your hands, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to catch the few tears that escaped. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

Your hands came up to hold his wrists as you looked into his eyes, “I heard you talking.” 

His face dropped in realization and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

Harrison cleared his throat and subtly made his way out, “You guys have some things to discuss.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you both smiled at each other appreciatively before he walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

Tom took your hands and brought you over to the couch. “I hope I didn’t scare you off, love.”

You shook your head immediately, even climbing in his lap to prove him wrong and he smiled gratefully. “No! It’s just that we never really talked, you know, about us.” He nodded and you took that as a sign to continue, enjoying the way his hands subconsciously slipped under your shirt to rub at your skin soothingly. “I like you Tom, obviously. But I like you a lot.” You linked your hands behind his neck. “I think I might be falling for you.”

His eyes started tearing up as well, as he smiled, “Yeah well, I think I’ve already fallen for you, darling.” 

You looked into his eyes and your smile brightened, “Okay maybe I lied––I’ve definitely already fallen for you as well.”

You both laughed lovingly, pulling each other in for a sweet kiss.“Look,” Tom started, licking his lips. “I don’t know what this means for our future, but all I know is I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon.” 

You kissed his lips softly, “Well I don’t plan on leaving any time soon either.” 

“Good.” He looked at you and you felt as though your soul was out and open for him to hold and love. “Cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

You could feel your eyes tearing up again. This felt good. This felt like home.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #professor!tom holland #professor!tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #for a sec tho lol #professor!tom holland imagine #professor!tom holland fic #professor!tom holland oneshot #professor!tom holland smut #professor!tom holland angst #professor!tom holland fluff

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

#professor!tom holland #professor!tom #tom holland #dom!Tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #Smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader angst #student!reader #professor!tom x reader #Professor!tom x student!reader #tom holland blurb #professor!tom smut

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

#jake x reader #jake smut #jake scenarios #jake imagines #jake suggestive #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenerios #enhypen suggestive #shim jake #kpop smut #kpop suggestive #jake sim #jake #enhypen #!kay! writer #enhypen hard hours #new writers on tumblr

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu​ 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates. 

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens. 

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class. 

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him. 

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all. 

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly. 

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months. 

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got. 

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career. 

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course. 

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.” 

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you. 

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen. 

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.) 

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side. 

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly. 

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester. 

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness. 

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you. 

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face. 

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!” 

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things. 

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone. 

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought. 

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you. 

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news. 

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward. 

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason. 

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away. 

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom. 

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same. 

Apparently not. 

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed. 

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile. 

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.” 

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck. 

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot. 

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi. 

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.” 

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.  

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face. 

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments. 

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.” 

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.” 

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character. 

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester. 

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right. 

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile.  He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.” 

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?” 

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh. 

This man was dangerous for your heart. 

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.” 

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you. 

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well. 

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook. 

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

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[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts series #bts writing #jimin series #jimin writing #bts dance au #jimin dance au

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)