Crave the Quiet

Crave the Quiet

Marsh Media · Completed · 109.9k Words

248
Hot
248
Views
0
Added
Add to Shelf
Start Reading
Share:facebooktwitterpinterestwhatsappreddit

Introduction

Sophomore year housing glitch throws them back into the same cramped dorm room they barely survived freshman year and the unspoken tension that almost broke them.
Theo Kane is the golden overachiever star architecture major, design club president, always three steps ahead, glasses sharp and walls sharper. He treats emotions like distractions that could tank his future.
Jaz Reed is the campus chaos incarnate tattooed night-shift barista at the 24-hour bakery, sarcastic mouth, flour-dusted arms, lives for the moment because planning feels like a cage. He acts like nothing touches him especially not Theo.
They were roommates once. Late-night sketches, shoulders brushing, almost-kisses swallowed back because fear won. Theo ghosted after break; Jaz pretended it didn't gut him.
Now forced together again, the old spark detonates—meaner, hungrier. Theo's ice-cold "this isn't happening" cracks under Jaz's relentless filthy teasing. Jaz, who never chases, turns possessive as fuck the second Theo lets him close: 3 a.m. texts begging for attention, showing up at design critiques growling "mine," hands everywhere like he'll vanish if he lets go.
But Theo's landed a killer Chicago summer internship that could launch his career—and rip him away for good. Jaz's life is rooted here: family bakery, siblings who need him, no escape plan. As stolen hookups in the bakery back room turn raw and desperate, they face the truth: keep pretending it's just sex and graduate safe, or risk blowing up their futures for the one person who makes control feel like bullshit and chaos feel like home.

Chapter 1

Theo's pov

I cut across the central quad like I own every fucking inch of it. Because in the ways that actually matter, I do.

The late-August sun is brutal, turning the concrete into a griddle, but I move through the heat without breaking a sweat. Black hair stays exactly where I put it this morning—swept back, sharp, no strand daring to rebel. Wire-frame glasses catch the light and throw it back like knives. Gray eyes behind them see everything and give nothing. I'm tall enough that people step aside instinctively, lean enough that the navy hoodie and dark jeans look like they were cut for me alone. I carry only the leather portfolio and a matte-black water bottle. No backpack. No distractions. No bullshit.

Heads turn anyway. They always do.

First-years by the fountain freeze mid-laugh, phones half-raised like they've forgotten how thumbs work. Two girls on a blanket under the oak whisper like I'm some rare animal they just spotted. A guy in a backwards cap actually drops his sunglasses to stare, then pretends he was looking at the sky. I register every single one of them without turning my head.

I don't acknowledge. I never do.

Whispers chase me like exhaust.

“That’s Theo Kane.”

“Architecture sophomore. Chicago internship already in the bag.”

“His family basically built half the fucking skyline.”

“Bet he’s never smiled once in his miserable life.”

“Bet he fucks like he designs—cold, precise, leaves you ruined and begging for more.”

I keep walking. Pace even. Face blank. Hands loose in my pockets. The world could collapse and I’d still hit my 9 a.m. critique on time.

I pass the engineering building—glass and ugly concrete—and feel the ripple. Grease-stained hoodies pause mid-sentence about torque specs. One of them mutters something low and appreciative. I don’t glance over. Why would I?

By the time I reach the architecture annex—sleek glass and corten steel that looks more gallery than classroom—the hush has already rolled through the open studio. Drafting tables straighten. Rulers hover. Conversation dies like someone hit mute.

I push through the double doors.

Silence welcomes me like an old, obedient friend.

I cross to my station: corner table, north-facing windows, perfect light, zero traffic. Portfolio down with a soft click. Unzip. Laptop out. Screen wakes to the tower proposal—forty-two stories of glass and tension cables, a deliberate middle finger to gravity.

The room exhales.

Only then does the low buzz of voices restart—careful, quiet, like they’re afraid a loud word will crack the glass.

I ignore them.

I pull up references, adjust a shadow study, type one note in the margin: Reduce cantilever 1.2m. Re-run wind load sim. No flourish. Just fact.

A shadow falls across my board.

“Professor Linden wants you leading critique again tomorrow,” Marcus says—design-club vice president, one of the only two people allowed to speak to me without earning frostbite. “Says your feedback last time ‘elevated the discourse.’”

I don’t look up. “Good.”

“Half the second-years are already dry-heaving in the bathrooms.”

“Then their concepts are weak.”

Marcus snorts. “You’re a dick.”

“I’m accurate.”

He lingers a second, then drifts off. I prefer it that way. No small talk. No wasted oxygen. Focus.

I work forty uninterrupted minutes—lines sharpening, proportions locking—until the housing glitch email hits.

The chime is soft. Polite. Lethal.

I open it without expression.

Subject: Room Reassignment – Immediate Effect

Due to over-enrollment in East Hall sophomore suites, select students will share occupancy effective today. Non-negotiable. Move-in coordination at 1400 hours.

New assignment: Room 412, East Hall. Double suite.

Roommate: Jasper Reed.

My finger hovers over the screen.

Jasper Reed.

I know the name the way I know campus folklore—distant, irrelevant static.

Night-shift barista at the 24-hour bakery. Tattoo sleeves visible even under the uniform. Perpetual smirk. The kind of guy who smells like espresso and bad decisions. Loud laugh. Flour in his hair at 3 a.m. when sane people are asleep.

My jaw flexes—once, barely noticeable.

I close the email.

Refresh.

Same fucking message.

I exhale through my nose. Slow. Controlled.

Inconvenience.

I hate inconvenience more than I hate most things.

Clock reads 12:47.

Thirteen minutes until next lecture.

I pack with surgical precision: laptop, portfolio, water bottle, pen case. Everything slots like pieces of a model. I stand, shoulder the slim bag, walk out.

Hallway parts for me.

I don’t look at anyone.

I never do.

Outside the heat slams like a wall. I pull sunglasses from my pocket—matte black, expensive, anonymous—and slide them on. World dims to something bearable.

I head toward East Hall.

Path takes me past the bakery kiosk on the quad edge. Glass case full of cinnamon rolls, scones, drip coffee. Hand-lettered sign: Fresh at 2 a.m. – Jaz was here.

My stride doesn’t falter.

But for less than half a second my gaze flicks to the window.

Broad back. Chestnut curls tied in a messy knot. Flour dusting black apron shoulders. Arms flexing, kneading dough with brutal, rhythmic violence.

I look away.

Keep walking.

East Hall rises ahead—red brick, 70s ugly, windows like tired eyes.

I push through double doors.

Lobby reeks of body spray, pizza grease, desperation.

Stairs. Fourth floor. No elevator nonsense.

Room 412 door propped open with a battered skateboard.

I pause in the threshold.

Inside: controlled chaos on the left. Right side pristine. Mine.

Left: open duffel vomiting hoodies and jeans, sketchbooks toppled, half-eaten cinnamon roll bleeding icing onto a napkin, crumbs everywhere. Flour. Fine dusting across desk, floor, windowsill. Like sugar snow.

And the source.

Jasper “Jaz” Reed stands in his disaster zone, back to me, stripping off a flour-dusted black T-shirt. Broad shoulders roll. Ink crawls up both arms—thorns, gears, feral blueprint lines. Tan skin shines with faint sweat. Jeans ride low. Thin silver chain glints at the small of his back.

He turns.

Our eyes lock.

Air pressure drops. Temperature spikes.

His hazel eyes are sharp, amused, predatory—like a house cat watching a bird that thinks it’s safe.

My sunglasses stay on.

He tilts his head. Slow smirk curls one side of his mouth.

“You’re late, prince.”

I don’t flinch.

“I don’t do nicknames.”

“Too bad. Fits you.” He steps closer. Close enough I catch cinnamon, espresso, clean sweat, something darker—motor oil and cedar. “Theo Kane. Architecture prodigy. Ice in his veins. Never cracks. Everyone’s wet dream and worst nightmare in one pretty package.”

My voice stays level. “You’ve done your homework.”

“Nah. Just observant.” His gaze rakes down my frame—slow, deliberate, shameless. “You gonna stand in the doorway all day or claim your half?”

I step inside.

Door clicks shut behind me.

Room shrinks.

He doesn’t back up.

I set my portfolio on the pristine desk. Soft thud.

“Keep your side contained,” I say. Flat. Final. “I have deadlines.”

He laughs—low, rough, vibrating through the small space.

“Deadlines. Cute.” He leans one hip against his cluttered desk, arms crossed over bare chest. Flour still dusts his collarbones. “You ever look up from those pretty drawings long enough to fucking breathe?”

I meet that stare through dark lenses.

“I breathe when something’s worth the oxygen.”

A beat.

His smirk sharpens into something dangerous.

“Challenge accepted.”

I turn away.

Unpack in silence.

But I feel it.

Room too small.

Air too thick.

And for the first time in two years, my pulse refuses to stay perfectly even.

Last Chapters

You Might Like 😍

Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl

Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl

306.7k Views · Completed · Lily S.W
"Do you feel that, Wren? That pull between us?"
His eyes darken, flicking to my mouth.
"It's wrong. Your brother would slit my throat for just standing this close. But tell me, little bird" his breath ghosts my skin, "are you trembling because you hate me… or because you've wanted this just as much as I have?"
Wren thought she'd buried the chaos of New Orleans for good—the clubs, the blood-soaked loyalties, the men who lived and died by their kuttes. Seattle gave her everything she ever wanted: freedom, love, a future.
But one betrayal shatters it all.
Dragged home by tragedy, Wren finds herself under the watchful eye of Ezra Jax—the Raven Reapers MC's vice president and her brother's best friend. He's infuriating, dangerous, and far too tempting for a man she should never touch.
And the deeper Wren is pulled back into his world, the more she realizes nothing about her past—or about Ezra—is what she believed.
In the chaos of gang wars, mounting debts, and old betrayals, he becomes the one constant. The more she fights him, the harder she falls. And the more he pushes her away, the more lethal his pull becomes.
Because in this world, love isn't sweet.
It's brutal. Bloody.
And it's bound to break them both.
When loyalty is everything and love can cost your life, will Wren risk her heart on the one man she was never meant to love?
Let Them Kneel

Let Them Kneel

226.4k Views · Ongoing · My Fantasy Stories
Kaelani spent her life believing she was wolfless.
Cast out by her pack. Forgotten by the Lycans.
She lived among humans—quiet, invisible, tucked away in a town no one looked at twice.

But when her first heat comes without warning, everything changes.

Her body ignites. Her instincts scream. And something primal stirs beneath her skin—
summoning a big, bad Alpha who knows exactly how to quench her fire.

When he claims her, it’s ecstasy and ruin.

For the first time, she believes she’s been accepted.
Seen.
Chosen.

Until he leaves her the next morning—
like a secret never to be spoken.

But Kaelani is not what they thought.
Not wolfless. Not weak.
There is something ancient inside her. Something powerful. And it’s waking.

And when it does—
they’ll all remember the girl they tried to erase.

Especially him.

She’ll be the dream he keeps chasing… the one thing that ever made him feel alive.

Because secrets never stay buried.
And neither do dreams.
The Prison Project

The Prison Project

1.1m Views · Ongoing · Bethany Donaghy
The government's newest experiment in criminal rehabilitation - sending thousands of young women to live alongside some of the most dangerous men held behind bars...

Can love tame the untouchable? Or will it only fuel the fire and cause chaos amongst the inmates?

Fresh out of high school and suffocating in her dead-end hometown, Margot longs for her escape. Her reckless best friend, Cara, thinks she's found the perfect way out for them both - The Prisoner Project - a controversial program offering a life-changing sum of money in exchange for time spent with maximum-security inmates.

Without hesitation, Cara rushes to sign them up.

Their reward? A one-way ticket into the depths of a prison ruled by gang leaders, mob bosses, and men the guards wouldn't even dare to cross...

At the centre of it all, meets Coban Santorelli - a man colder than ice, darker than midnight, and as deadly as the fire that fuels his inner rage. He knows that the project may very well be his only ticket to freedom - his only ticket to revenge on the one who managed to lock him up and so he must prove that he can learn to love…

Will Margot be the lucky one chosen to help reform him?

Will Coban be capable of bringing something to the table other than just sex?

What starts off as denial may very well grow in to obsession which could then fester in to becoming true love…

A temperamental romance novel.
Invisible To Her Bully

Invisible To Her Bully

544.5k Views · Ongoing · sunsationaldee
Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential “It” guy at school—charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson’s best friend and Jessa’s biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson’s sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.
Accardi

Accardi

932.5k Views · Completed · Allison Franklin
“I thought we discussed this earlier, Weakness? I warned you. His death is on your hands.”
“I thought you said you were done chasing me?” Gen mocked.
“I am done chasing you.”
Before she could formulate a witty remark, Matteo threw her down. She landed hard on her back atop his dining room table. She tried to sit up when she noticed what he was doing. His hands were working on his belt. It came free of his pants with a violent yank. She collapsed back on her elbows, her mouth gaping open at the display. His face was a mask of sheer determination, his eyes were a dark gold swimming with heat and desire. His hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the table. He glided his fingers up her thighs and hooked several around the inside of her panties. His knuckles brushed her dripping sex.
“You’re soaking wet, Genevieve. Tell me, was it me that made you this way or him?” his voice told her to be careful with her answer. His knuckles slid down through her folds and she threw her head back as she moaned. “Weakness?”
“You…” she breathed.


Genevieve loses a bet she can’t afford to pay. In a compromise, she agrees to convince any man her opponent chooses to go home with her that night. What she doesn’t realize when her sister’s friend points out the brooding man sitting alone at the bar, is that man won’t be okay with just one night with her. No, Matteo Accardi, Don of one of the largest gangs in New York City doesn’t do one night stands. Not with her anyway.
Game of Destiny

Game of Destiny

1.2m Views · Completed · Dripping Creativity
Amie's wolf hasn't shown herself. But who cares? She has a good pack, best friends and a family who loves her. Everyone, including the Alpha, is telling her she is perfect just the way she is. That is until she finds her mate and he rejects her. Heartbroken Amie flees from everything and start over. No more werewolves, no more packs.

When Finlay finds her, she is living among humans. He is smitten by the stubborn wolf that refuse to acknowledge his existence. She may not be his mate, but he wants her to be a part of his pack, latent wolf or not.

Amie cant resist the Alpha that comes into her life and drags her back into pack life. Not only does she find herself happier than she has been in a long time, her wolf finally comes to her. Finlay isn't her mate, but he becomes her best friend. Together with the other top wolves in the pack, they work to create the best and strongest pack.

When it's time for the pack games, the event that decides the packs rank for the coming ten year, Amie needs to face her old pack. When she sees the man that rejected her for the first time in ten years, everything she thought she knew is turned around. Amie and Finlay need to adapt to the new reality and find a way forward for their pack. But will the curve ball split them apart?
The Lycan Prince’s Puppy

The Lycan Prince’s Puppy

3.2m Views · Ongoing · chavontheauthor
“You’re mine, little puppy,” Kylan growled against my neck.
“Soon enough, you’ll be begging for me. And when you do—I’ll use you as I see fit, and then I’ll reject you.”


When Violet Hastings begins her freshman year at Starlight Shifters Academy, she only wants two things—honor her mother’s legacy by becoming a skilled healer for her pack and get through the academy without anyone calling her a freak for her strange eye condition.

Things take a dramatic turn when she discovers that Kylan, the arrogant heir to the Lycan throne who has made her life miserable from the moment they met, is her mate.

Kylan, known for his cold personality and cruel ways, is far from thrilled. He refuses to accept Violet as his mate, yet he doesn’t want to reject her either. Instead, he sees her as his puppy, and is determined to make her life even more of a living hell.

As if dealing with Kylan’s torment isn’t enough, Violet begins to uncover secrets about her past that change everything she thought she knew. Where does she truly come from? What is the secret behind her eyes? And has her whole life been a lie?
Rise of the Banished She-Wolf

Rise of the Banished She-Wolf

367.4k Views · Completed · Lily
"White wolf! Kill that monster!"
That roar stole my eighteenth birthday and shattered my world. My first shift should have been glory—blood turned blessing into shame. By dawn they'd branded me "cursed": cast out by my pack, abandoned by family, stripped of my nature. My father didn't defend me—he sent me to a forsaken island where wolfless outcasts were forged into weapons, forced to kill each other until only one could leave.
On that island I learned the darkest edges of humanity and how to bury terror in bone. Countless times I wanted to surrender—dive into the waves and never surface—but the accusing faces that haunted my dreams pushed me back toward something colder than survival: revenge. I escaped, and for three years I hid among humans, collecting secrets, learning to move like a shadow, sharpening patience into precision—becoming a blade.
Then, under a full moon, I touched a bleeding stranger—and my wolf returned with a violence that made me whole. Who was he? Why could he wake what I'd thought dead?
One thing I know: now is the time.
I have waited three years for this. I will make everyone who destroyed me pay—and take back everything that was stolen from me.
The Lycan Kings and the White Wolf.

The Lycan Kings and the White Wolf.

119.7k Views · Completed · theresachipps
Trixie was twelve years old when her parents, the Luna and alpha of the pack, were killed in a rogue attack, or what she thought was a rogue attack. Since she was the only child, the only heir, she should have been next in line for the alpha position. Since she was only 12 her uncle took over as alpha. For 5 years her uncle and his family has mistreated her. Stripped her of her title. He has constantly tried to steal her inheritance her parents left her. With time not on his side, her uncle Melvin, signs her up for the yearly tournament being held at palace. Where he plans to finally end Trixie and finally get his hands on her money. Trixie’s luck changes when she’s finds her mates. The twin Lycan Kings.
The Possessive Alpha

The Possessive Alpha

130.5k Views · Completed · Emma Taylor
Elle Davidson, orphaned at 12 with limited memory, is taken in by the Alpha and Luna of the New Moon pack. There she meets Damon Ledger, the future Alpha and her nemesis. Damon does everything he can to control Elle's life, and his friends do everything they can to make her life hell. All of that changes after Damon comes home from Alpha training, and their undeniable chemistry makes staying away from one another impossible.
What will happen when Elle's past finally catches up to her? Will Elle be able to fight the increasing attraction she has for Damon, her ultimate enemy? Or will she succumb to the lust she feels for him?
The CEO Above My Desk

The CEO Above My Desk

107.1k Views · Ongoing · McKenzie Shinabery
“You think she needs you,” he says.

“I know she does.”

“And what if she doesn’t want this kind of protection?”

“She will,” I say, my voice lowering slightly. “Because she needs a man who can give her the world.”

“And if the world burns?”

My hand tightens subtly at Violet’s waist.

“Then I’ll build her a new one,” I reply. “Even if I have to burn the old one down myself.”

I don’t work for Rowan Ashcroft.
I work beneath him.

From my desk, I decide who gets access to the most ruthless CEO in the city, and who never makes it past the lobby. I manage his time, his silence, his enemies. I keep his world running while my own quietly collapses under unpaid bills, a mother locked in rehab, and a brother who vanished without a goodbye.

Rowan Ashcroft is power wrapped in a tailored suit.
Cold. Untouchable. Merciless.
He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t see people, only usefulness.

And for a long time, I was just useful.

Until he started watching.

A shift in his attention is subtle at first. A pause too long. A look that lingers. Orders that pull me closer instead of pushing me away. The man who stands above my desk begins to control more than my schedule, and I realize too late that being noticed by Rowan Ashcroft is far more dangerous than being ignored.

Because men like him don’t crave affection.
They crave possession.

This was supposed to be a job.
Not a test of my limits.
Not a slow, deliberate descent into his authority.

But if Rowan Ashcroft decides I belong under his desk, then so be it.
Survival has a price, and the bills don’t care how I pay them.
The Womanizer's Mute Wife

The Womanizer's Mute Wife

182.7k Views · Completed · faithogbonna999
“There’s nothing wrong with breaking her legs to keep her. Or chaining her to the bed. She’s mine.”
She was looking for freedom. He gave her obsession, wrapped in tenderness.
Genesis Caldwell thought escaping her abusive home meant salvation—but her arranged marriage to billionaire Kieran Blackwood might be its own kind of prison.
He’s possessive, controlling, dangerous. Yet in his own broken way… he’s gentle with her.
To Kieran, Genesis isn’t just a wife. She’s everything.
And he’ll protect what’s his. Even if it means destroying everything else.