#My spring semester is going to start for me in a few days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy9-29 · 7 months ago

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Faking It ♡ l.hs [m]

⋆ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

⋆ wc: 12.5k

⋆ synopsis: You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. Over the three years, both you and Heeseung had become the most popular student in the university. You barely spoke to each other, just exchanged the occasional spiteful look in the hallways. You had sworn never to speak to Heeseung again—until one day, he unexpectedly asked you to be his fake girlfriend.

⋆ warning: not proof read, vomiting, public humiliation, fingering, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, nipple play, bullying, teasing, name calling, fake dating, kissing, harsh language, swearing, spitting, choking, crying, lmk if I missed anything!

18+ mdni | masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. It all began when you were both freshmen in university and were invited to a spring break party at a frat house. After consuming almost 6 shots of alcohol, you felt dizzy and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Unintentionally, you left the door slightly open, and Heeseung, recording the entire incident, uploaded it to his social media account, which nearly all of your school followed.

"excuse me, what?!” you exclaimed in disbelief. As a new school year started, it marked your third year in university. You were on your way to your lockers to grab your belongings when Heeseung suddenly appeared, nonchalantly leaning against the lockers, resembling the stereotypical high school crush.

He simply folded his arms against his chest and repeated the question bluntly, “Be my fake girlfriend for the entire semester.” No ‘please’ or anything, just a short and direct order. Even you had to admit he was extremely hot—black hair, sharp and distinct features, muscular figure—but you definitely hated that attractive face of his due to the incident.

You crossed your arms and gave Heeseung a once-over, adopting a contemplative expression. "Why do you need a fake girlfriend?" you repeated, your tone laced with skepticism.

“Simple.” He simply shrugged as he pushed himself off from the locker and took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance between you two. He leaned down slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours, “I’m sick and tired of my parents asking if I have a girlfriend. It’s exhausting lying to them all the time so I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few months, and they just happen to fall for you.” He spoke with as if you were nothing more than a mere tool.

"Why not tell them you're too busy with your studies?" you quipped, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh wait, I nearly forgot—you've been suspended twice! Who would believe you're too swamped with academics?”

He rolled his eyes at your comment and continued talking, his voice laced with annoyance, “My parents don’t care about my education. They only care about my reputation and what others think of me because they’re so damn arrogant and stuck-up. In their eyes, a good reputation requires a girlfriend, and that’s all they care about when it comes to me.” He was starting to sound frustrated, but not because of you, just his parents.

You scoffed at his response, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I'm going to agree to be your fake girlfriend after that humiliating video you recorded and posted of me?"

“Ah, yes. That.” He let out a short, cynical chuckle as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. “I completely forgot about that.” Bullshit, you thought. “Listen, all I’m asking for is that you be my fake girlfriend. It’s not like I’m asking you to really date me. It’ll literally just be a few months.”

You gestured towards a group of girls nearby, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "Why not ask one of those girls over there? I'm certain a bunch of them would be absolutely thrilled to have you merely glance in their direction."

He glanced over to the group of girls that you were gesturing to, and in all honesty, you were probably right. They always swooned over him whenever he passed them. Any of them would be dying to be Heeseung’s girlfriend, fake or not. But he looked back at you, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, “There’s a reason I asked you and not them.”

“I have a type and none of them matches it.” Heeseung stepped even closer to you so your bodies were almost touching. He tilted his head as scanned you up and down while speaking, “You’re pretty, smart enough. And no offense, you’re not the most popular girl here, but you’re certainly not unpopular.”

"So, you're saying you have a crush on me?" you teased, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He rolled his eyes once again, “No, don’t flatter yourself, y/n. As I said, you’re just my type.” His hot, breath was now fanning over your neck and he was close enough that you could smell the scent of his cologne, a mix of musk and sandalwood, surrounding the air.

“No”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no”

Now, it was his turn to roll his eyes. He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re rejecting me? You honestly think you’re in the position to reject me?”

You feigned fear, mockingly exclaiming, "Stop, im shaking!" Then, you added with a scoff, "Oh, wait, let me guess—no one has ever turned you down, right?"

You were spot on. No one has ever rejected Heeseung before, nor do people ever dare to. Girls are always chasing after him, and boys are either jealous of him or intimidated by him. He’s never heard the word ‘no’ before, but hearing it now from your mouth was quite intriguing and somewhat entertaining.

“Not a single one.” He responded with a small smirk, his eyes flickering to your lips. He was now extremely close to you, the distance between you was only a couple inches away now. “No one’s ever rejected me before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything, huh?” he teased.

"Just leave me alone, Heeseung," you mutter, slamming your locker shut and stalking away, your irritation evident.

He easily caught up to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. “What? The great y/n is already giving up?” He leaned in closer. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt you.

“I won’t ask again,” He began whispering in your ear, “Be my fake girlfriend for a semester, and I’ll never bother you again for the rest of our lives.” He was now pressed against you slightly, pinning you against the lockers and trapping you.

"What's in it for me?" you countered, locking eyes with him. "And don't say 'I'll never bother you for the rest of our lives.' That doesn't interest me."

A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes at your reply and he chuckled, “Always the smartass, aren’t you?” He leaned down, his breath fanning over your face, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him directly. “Name your terms then.”

You pretended to ponder, tapping your finger against your chin, and then declared, "A shiny new MacBook Pro would be pretty nice."

He raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, he didn’t expect you to ask for an item so quickly. He had thought you'd ask for money. “A MacBook?” he questioned before a small smirk spread across his face, “That’s all you want?”

"Oh, and a brand-new car would be great. A Tesla, maybe?"

A look of utter disbelief briefly crossed his face, “Are you just naming out expensive things in hopes that I’ll give in?”

"I mean, you're loaded, aren't you, Lee Heeseung?" you pointed out.

He had to admit you weren’t wrong. The Lee family was extremely wealthy—a huge estate worth millions with a large family business that brought in thousands a day, all passed down from generation to generation. “True. But don’t you think you’re aiming a bit too high here?”

You folded your arms across your chest and chimed in a sing-song tone, "Well, looks like you won't be getting a fake girlfriend after all~"

He let out a sigh, feeling slightly aggravated. Part of him had to admit, he liked your stubbornness. It didn’t come as a surprise though, you had always been the one person who wasn’t afraid of him. He had to take you seriously now though. “Okay. I’ll buy you a new MacBook pro and a Tesla. In return, you have to be my fake girlfriend for the whole semester. Deal?”

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his unexpected acceptance. "W-Wait, are you serious?"

“Does a deal mean I’m not serious?” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. “Yes, I’m serious.” his intense gaze met yours once again, “It’s a yes or no you dumb fuck.”

"Deal!" you responded enthusiastically, extending an open hand towards him for a handshake.

He chuckled, finding your eagerness amusing. He took your outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake, sealing the deal with a smirk on his face. "Then it's official, you're now my fake girlfriend."

—

The following day, while at school, you received a text from Heeseung, asking to meet at the library after classes to discuss the details of this agreement. You readily agreed, tucking your phone away and making your way to class. Sure, enduring time with Heeseung, let alone pretending to love him would annoy the living fuck out of you, but hey, you were at least getting something out of the arrangement.

He was already in the library by the time you arrived, sitting in a secluded corner away from the rest of students. He glanced up as soon as you approached the table he was sitting at. "Sit." he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the back of the chair and the other on his knee. He studied you closely, taking in your every trait. “I have a few rules for this fake dating thing.” he finally spoke, his tone authoritative.

You let out an exaggerated eye roll and placed your arms on the table, leaning forward. "Do tell?”

“First rule: we have to do everything any real couple does in public. Holding hands, going on dates in public, the whole thing.” he spoke, his voice firm, “You’re my fake girlfriend now, so you can’t just sit there with that shitty look on your face when I’m around you. No one can suspect a thing. Understood?”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and questioned pointedly, "I thought this fake girlfriend deal is just about appeasing your parents. Why do we have to act like we’re together outside of your house too? Won’t they think it’s odd we’re suddenly together? I’m pretty sure the whole school knows we hate each other by now.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Heeseung replied, shooting you an irritated look. “Parents who’re too stuck-up and obsessed with their reputation like mine love seeing couples acting affectionate. Plus, we need the whole school to start seeing us as a real couple, not just my parents. It’ll be more believable that way.”

You tilted your head in bewilderment and inquired, "And what are you going to say when people approach us, curious about our 'relationship'?"

“We’ll just tell them the truth. That we started talking to each other at some point and found out that we weren’t as different from each other as we'd thought.” he spoke with a nonchalant tone. “But of course, I’ll have to make up a story of how I confessed and how we got together, but other than that, it’s pretty much believable.”

You hesitantly continued, your gaze shifting to his fiddling hands and the pen. "And... what about things like kissing, pet names, and all those things... how are we going to handle those?" You spoke in a sheepish tone, a hint of excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.

He smirked slightly at your flustered expression and leaned back in his chair again, one arm placed back on the back of his chair. “I don’t care what kind of pet names you call me, but I don’t want you to call me my actual name. And for kissing…” he spoke quietly, “if I have to kiss you to make all this believable, so be it.”

You let out a sigh, mentally preparing to navigate the next three months with a fake boyfriend. This was going to be... interesting, to say the least.

“There’s one more rule.” he spoke, his gaze now flickering to yours again. “During the three months of this deal, you belong to me. Meaning: no dating, no relationships, no going on dates with someone else. You’re mine now, you got that?”

His words struck a chord within you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself, *No, y/n, snap out of it. You despise him, and he feels the same about you*. You reluctantly agreed, albeit with a protesting groan, and sunk into the couch.

He suppressed a smug smirk upon seeing your reaction to his words. Despite your protests and eye-rolls, he could see the way you tensed up when he spoke those words. He wasn’t an idiot, he could tell, the effect he had on you, whether you were willing to admit it or not.

—

You had just walked into the school building and instantly, you heard the whispers and murmurs among the students as you made your way to your locker. It was like time had slowed down and every eye in the hallway was on you.

“Is that y/n?” one boy whispered to his friend.

“Damn, she looks pretty today.”

“But why does it look like she’s in a bad mood?” another boy spoke quietly.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was leaning against the lockers at the end of the hall, flanked by his two best friends, Jake and Sunghoon. They were having a conversation when Sunghoon’s eyes suddenly fixated on you, as you walked towards your locker. He nudged Heeseung's arm with his elbow, pointing at you.

“Hey, look,” Sunghoon whispered. “Isn’t that y/n?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to the direction Sunghoon was looking at and he nodded. “Yeah, it’s her. She looks pretty today, huh?” a small smirk spread across his face as he watched from afar.

“What are you guys looking at?” Jake spoke up, craning his neck to see what had grabbed Heeseung and Sunghoon’s attention.

Sunghoon tilted his head towards you. “Just our little y/n over there, trying to play it cool but she looks pretty annoyed.”

Jake let out a small chuckle. “She always looks annoyed these days.”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Sunghoon asked, “She always looks like she wants to murder someone.”

Jake chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. She’s just naturally bitchy, I guess.”

Heeseung, however, was still quietly watching you. His eyes never left your figure as you continued on to your locker and began to open it.

“She's hot though.” Jake commented. “I'd ask her out if it didn't seem like she'd tear my head off.”

Sunghoon laughed. “She's out of your league anyways, man.” he teased.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” he replied, jokingly punching Sunghoon’s arm. “I know she’s out of *both* our leagues.”

“Is there even any guy that she likes?” Sunghoon wondered aloud. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her hanging out with a guy.”

Heeseung's gaze flicked over to Sunghoon at the question, a small knowing smirk playing at his lips.

Jake looked over at Heeseung. “What about you?”

Heeseung’s smirk grew slightly at the question and he shrugged nonchalantly. “What about me?” he replied, his tone nonchalant.

Jake’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you like her.” he said in disbelief.

“I never said I did,” replied Heeseung, still maintaining his casual demeanor.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t deny it either though…” he pointed out, giving Heeseung a look.

“You know me better than that, don’t you?” Heeseung said, shooting Sunghoon a mocking look and rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, she’s got a nice body and she’s pretty, but she’s got the personality of a cactus. I’m not *that* masochistic.”

Sunghoon and Jake both chuckled at his response.

“Damn, man, that was a good one.” Sunghoon commented, lightly slapping Heeseung’s shoulder. “You’re right though, she’s probably not worth the headache.”

Heeseung pushed himself off of the locker he was leaning against and took a step forward, still keeping his eyes on you. “You know, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you two.” he spoke casually.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged a curious glance before looking back at Heeseung. “What is it?” Sunghoon inquired.

Heeseung shifted his stance, his hands now in the pockets of his pants. “Well, I’ve been seeing y/n.” he replied, a small smirk dancing on his lips.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, clearly not expecting that answer.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, let out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way you and her are a thing. She hates your guts!”

Heeseung chuckled at Sunghoon's reaction. “I’m dead serious, though.”

Jake still looked like he was processing the information. “But..how is that even possible? You guys have hated each other for three years now!”

“Things change, I guess…” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “We actually started talking a few weeks back and… well, started spending more time together. She’s not as bitchy as I thought she’d be.” he added, a smirk on his face.

Out of the blue, the question left Jake's lips, curiosity getting the better of him. "Have you guys... you know, fucked?"

Sunghoon burst out laughing and playfully slapped Jake on the back of the head. “Don’t ask him that, man!”

Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jake’s question, but a small smirk tugged at his lips nonetheless. “What, you want details?” he teased.

Jake’s expression turned sheepish. “No, no, I was just wondering.” he quickly retorted, his cheeks turning a hint of pink. “It’s just…I never thought something like that would actually happen between you two.”

“Yeah well, it did...” Heeseung replied, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. “And just wait until you see how different she is when it’s just the two of us.” he added, the hint of pride evident in his tone.

Heeseung fished out his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message to you, sending it off.

*‘Meet me in the janitor’s closet on the third floor during lunch. I need to talk to you.’*

As he put his phone back in his pocket, Sunghoon noticed the screen and raised an eyebrow. “Texting y/n?” he asked, with a mocking tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes again. “You’re damn observant, aren’t you?” he retorted sarcastically. “Yeah, just asked her to meet me later during lunch.”

Jake, never one to back down from teasing his friend, proposed, "Why don't you bring her to eat with us? We want to get to know your 'girlfriend' better, at least that's what you're telling us... But let's be real, no one truly believes that you two are actually together." Sunghoon, equally skeptical as Jake, nodded in agreement.

Everyone was well aware of the animosity between the two popular students, Heeseung and y/n. Jake's and Sunghoon's doubts about their supposed relationship echoed what many others had assumed.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at both of their teasing comments. “Alright, alright, settle down.” he replied, a small smirk on his face. “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise what her reaction will be.”

You responded firmly, steadfast in your refusal. "Absolutely not," you shook your head vehemently, your expression reflecting your firm rejection. "I'm already enduring the farce of pretending to like you, and there's no chance I'm subjecting myself to lunch with you, let alone two others who are practically copy and pastes of you!"

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “Aww, come on, you’re no fun.” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re gonna have to meet them eventually, so you may as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Heeseung watched as you began to protest and couldn’t help but smile to himself at your stubbornness. “Come on, it’s just lunch. I’m sure you can handle it.” he persuaded, taking a step closer to you.

You internally grappled with the idea. It's just three more months, you told yourself. Can I really endure him? With a reluctant sigh, you finally relented, "Fine, I suppose it won’t be too bad."

Heeseung hid a triumphant smirk as he heard you finally cave. “That’s my girl.” he teased, stepping forward again and gently lifting your chin with his index finger.

Your body involuntarily tensed up as the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. "That's my girl…" The phrase played on a loop, causing a ripple of unease to ripple through you as you trailed alongside Heeseung towards the table where his friends awaited.

Jake and Sunghoon, who were still sitting at the table, looked up as the two of you approached. Jake’s eyes widened with surprise as he actually saw you walking next to Heeseung, while Sunghoon simply raised an eyebrow skeptically, silently questioning if the sight was real.

Heeseung placed his hand on the small of your back as you approached the table, a smirk on his face. “y/n, meet Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon, Jake, y/n.” he said casually, pulling out a chair for you to sit.

Sunghoon and Jake could only stare up at you, still trying to process the fact that Heeseung’s supposed ‘girlfriend’ was actually here and sitting right in front of them. Jake’s mouth was hung open slightly and Sunghoon just silently studied your features.

Heeseung noticed the boys’ awestruck expressions and let out a low chuckle, pushing your chair in as you sat. “Boys, quit staring like that. You’re making her uncomfortable.” he teased, taking a seat next to you.

Heeseung's attempt at making it seem like he cared fell flat, met with your sharp retort. "It's alright, Heeseung," you bit back, irritation lacing your words. "Save your pity, I don't need it." The tension between you two was palpable, and it was undeniable to anyone observing the situation.

Heeseung let out a scoff at the sharpness in your tone, an annoyed smile on his face. He reached beneath the table and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly, a silent warning for you to keep up the act.

Sunghoon and Jake noticed the subtle interaction between the two of you and exchanged a glance. Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Heeseung’s hand rest on your thigh, while a smirk tugged at Jake’s lips.

“Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his eyes still fixed on Heeseung’s hand on your thigh.

Heeseung chuckled in response, his hand squeezing your thigh once more in warning. “I can assure you, this is real.” he replied, his eyes challenging Sunghoon to question him further.

Jake’s smirk grew wider at Heeseung’s response and he leaned forward slightly. “But the real question is, how’d you manage to pull *her* of all people?” he asked, referring to you with a nod of his head.

"I'm not some toy you can toss around." Your words were sharp and biting, a steely edge to your voice as you fixed a defiant glare on Jake. "I have my own mind, my own thoughts and feelings. I'm not some plaything for you to manipulate."

Heeseung’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly in warning, but his smile never wavered. “Damn, you’re feisty. I like it.” he commented casually, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You internally seethed, feeling the weight of the situation settling upon you. Could you truly maintain this act for three months, with everyone watching? Yes, you'd harbored a secret crush on Heeseung before the whole fiasco with the vomiting video, and seeing him present a facade of affection towards you now only made you feel like gagging.

Sunghoon noticed the tension between the two of you yet again and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “I still don’t believe it.” he commented, the skepticism obvious in his tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes in response to Sunghoon, his hand still resting on your thigh. “I already told you, it’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” he replied, his gaze challenging Sunghoon to dispute his words.

“Sit here y/n,” Heeseung said, a commanding gesture. Heeseung patted his lap and motioned for you to take a seat on it. Seemingly unfazed by the fact that it was in the middle of the school day and they had an audience in the form of his friends.

Your eyes widened slightly at his direct instruction, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous the situation was. Did he really expect you to just sit on his lap like it was normal?

Sunghoon and Jake, on the other hand, watched eagerly, expecting you to refuse the demeaning act.

Heeseung’s smirk grew wider as he saw your eyes widen, a silent challenge in them as he patted his lap once more. “Come on, it’s not that difficult. Just sit like the good girl you are.” he urged casually, as if it was completely normal for someone like you to sit in his lap.

Jake and Sunghoon couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer and broke into a fit of chuckles. “Yeah, come on, good girl.” Jake mocked, clearly enjoying seeing you squirm under Heeseung’s command.

You reluctantly rose to your feet, shooting Jake a withering glare before complying. You perched yourself awkwardly on Heeseung's lap, your expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance, silently praying that this moment would pass quickly.

Heeseung, however, didn't miss the silent pleading in your eyes. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, his grip just a little tighter than was necessary.

Jake's chuckle turned into a genuine laugh as he saw the way Heeseung manhandled you into sitting on his lap. "Damn, she really is your good girl, huh?" he teased.

Heeseung shot Jake a warning glare, not appreciating his taunting tone. "Shut it." he replied, his voice stern. But a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled you even closer, his hand resting on your hip.

Sunghoon, who had been quietly observant during the whole scene, rolled his eyes at Heeseung's display. "Possessive, much?" he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough for you to miss the comment.

Heeseung's eyes narrowed at Sunghoon's snide remark, but he didn't respond. Instead, he slid his hand slightly higher up your thigh, his touch deliberate and possessive.

Before you could stand up, Heeseung's firm grip on your waist halted your movements. He issued a direct statement, "Let's skip class." Your eyes widened in disbelief, the words ringing in your ears. "Skip class?" you echoed, shocked at the audacity of his suggestion.

Heeseung just smirked in response, his demeanor unapologetic. "Yeah, skip class. I want to spend some time alone with my *girlfriend*." he retorted arrogantly, the word 'girlfriend' dripping with sarcasm.

Heeseung, surprised, suggested skipping class, and you admitted, "I've never done that before." The thought of ditching school alarmed you, as it was a departure from your usual disciplined routine.

Heeseung chuckled at your confession, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Never? Really?" he teased, his hand still resting on your thigh. "You're missing out, it's freeing. Come on, live a little."

With a sarcastic tone, you retorted, "And yet you act like a high school dropout," before reluctantly agreeing to skip class for the remainder of the day.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at your sarcastic remark but didn’t deny it. “Damn, you’re a smartass.” he chuckled, amused by your attitude. “I can’t wait to have you to myself for the rest of the day.”

He glanced over to Sunghoon and Jake, who were watching the interaction intently. "We're skipping the rest of the day. Don't try to stop us." he informed them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jake smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Damn, you’re really getting serious. Go have your alone time with her.” he jeered, clearly enjoying seeing Heeseung so possessive over you.

Sunghoon just rolled his eyes, but wisely didn't comment on the situation. He just observed silently, his eyes flickering between you and Heeseung, studying your every move.

Heeseung just chuckled in response to Jake’s comment before turning his attention back to you. "Let's go." he said, gently squeezing your thigh before patting it, signaling for you to stand up.

You reluctantly obeyed, standing up from his lap and silently vowing to stay as far away from him as possible. Heeseung rose from his seat, grabbing his bag in the process, and made his way over to you. Without warning, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled again at his possessive gesture, clearly enjoying the show. “You two lovebirds have fun.” Jake called out with a smirk.

Heeseung just rolled his eyes at Jake’s comment and led you towards the exit, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. As you both left the cafeteria, he pulled you a little closer and whispered in your ear, “Don’t you dare try to run off on me.”

You gritted your teeth at his warning but didn’t respond, knowing that it would only lead to more trouble. You allowed him to guide you out of the school building, your thoughts racing with a million different escape plans.

Once you both were outside, Heeseung turned to you, a smirk on his face. “Now, I have a proposal for you. We have several options for how to spend the rest of the day, but I’ll let you choose.”

He paused for a moment, studying you silently, before continuing. “We can go get some food, maybe do a little shopping, or…” he trailed off, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We can do whatever you want. But on one condition.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently bracing yourself for whatever condition he was about to set. “What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled at your cautious tone before stepping closer, his hand moving to rest on your hip. “All I want is your undivided attention. No trying to run away or ignoring me. You’ll have to stick with me for the rest of the day and do whatever I say.” he replied, his voice dripping with authority.

You agreed, albeit hesitantly, with a slow nod. "Alright, I suppose I can do that..." you murmured, before changing the subject. "Speaking of which, when are we supposed to meet your parents? This whole fake dating charade is meant to convince them that you're in a relationship, right?"

Heeseung chuckled and nodded at your question. "Yeah, you're right. We'll have to convince my parents at some point. But don’t worry, we have some time before that. They’re away on a business trip right now, so we don’t need to worry about them just yet."

Surprise washed over you at Heeseung's revelation. "Business trip?!" you exclaimed. "Then why are we going through the motions of being all lovey-dovey if your parents are out of town for business?"

Heeseung smirked at your outburst before answering your question. "Because, my dear fake girlfriend, it's better to start early." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can’t just suddenly be all lovey-dovey once they come back. We need to make it believable."

Internalized frustration simmered within you as you emitted a sigh of resignation. "I just want to go home," you confessed, your weariness evident in your exhausted tone.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused by your predicament. "Ah-ah, no going home. You agreed to spend the rest of the day with me, remember?" he reminded you, his hand gripping your hip a little tighter.

A mumbled invitation escaped your lips, "You can come over, I suppose..." Though your words were delivered indifferently, a hint of reluctance crept into your tone.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at the half-hearted invitation, a smirk plastered on his face. "Oh? You're actually letting me come over? I almost feel special." he teased, a hint of mockery in his voice.

He took a small step closer to you, his grip on your hip still firm. "But I get to decide what we do at your place, got it? No arguments, no complaints. You'll be a good girl and do as I say." he told you, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Heeseung’s smirk only grew wider as he saw the resignation etched on your face. He knew you didn’t want him anywhere near your home, but you didn’t have a choice. "Great, then it’s decided. We’re going to your place." he stated before grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

As you guys walked to your home, Heeseung occasionally glanced over at you. Your expression was a mixture of resignation and annoyance, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He found it hilariously ironic that the person he had always hated was now stuck with him for the rest of the day.

Once they arrived at your house, Heeseung immediately made himself at home. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the living room, flopping down on the couch with a sense of entitlement. He patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him.

Annoyance flickered across your face as you observed his lackadaisical approach to removing his shoes. Irritated, you placed his shoes neatly by the entrance before proceeding to take off your own.

Heeseung had been watching you as you took off your shoes, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your particularity. “Ever the neat freak, huh?” he teased, a smirk on his face.

He patted the spot next to him again, his smirk never faltering. “Come on, sit down. I don’t bite.” he quipped, clearly enjoying seeing you out of your comfort zone.

You hesitantly made your way towards the couch and sat down next to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance. Heeseung just chuckled at your attempt to maintain space and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer until you were flush against his side.

"Ah-ah, no escaping from me now." he teased, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, trapping you against him. He leaned back against the couch, clearly satisfied with your discomfort.

"Now, since we have a few hours to kill, I have a few ideas on how we can spend our time." he said, his hand idly stroking your shoulder.

Frustration crept into your voice as you snapped at him, your cheeks tinged with red. "Enough, already!" you exclaimed. "There's no one around; you don't need to keep up the act."

Heeseung just chuckled at your outburst, his smirk growing wider. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he taunted, his hand moving up to gently caress your cheek. "Besides, I like seeing you all flustered and uncomfortable."

He leaned closer, his breath fanning against your ear. "And who knows, maybe I just enjoy having you this close to me." he teased, his tone low and sultry.

His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently twirling a strand between his fingers. "You know, you're actually quite cute when you're all annoyed like this." he whispered, his voice laced with amusement.

He sat back against the couch, pulling you with him so you were practically laying on his chest. "But don't worry, we have the whole day to spend together. We'll have plenty of opportunities for me to drive you crazy."

Heeseung's hand continued to caress your hair, his touch strangely soothing. For a moment, he seemed almost gentle, his arrogance temporarily replaced by this unexpected tenderness.

But the moment was short-lived as his smirk returned, his voice dripping with arrogance again. "So, how about we watch a movie or something? I’m sure there's something on TV that'll keep us entertained for a bit."

He reached for the remote and flicked through the channels, eventually landing on a romantic comedy. He glanced down at you with a smirk. "King the land sounds good huh?."

As the movie played, Heeseung's hand never left your hair. He continued to absently toy with the strands, his attention half on the movie and half on teasing you.

Every now and then, he would drop a sarcastic comment about the movie, or make a snide remark about how the couple on screen reminded him of you and him. His touch remained light and almost comforting, a stark contrast to his usual obnoxious demeanor.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of Heeseung's lips as he observed a scene playing out on the TV. "You know," he remarked, a hint of humor in his voice, "that actress kinda looks like you."

He glanced down at you, his hand still lazily caressing your hair. "Don’t worry, you're much cuter than her." he teased, a smirk still playing on his lips.

The situation was becoming unbearable. You reached your limit; you couldn't continue pretending to love him and enduring his touch. Frustration boiled over, and you abruptly stood up, your emotions taking control.

Heeseung's smirk faltered for a moment as you suddenly stood up. He hadn't expected such a sudden outburst from you. He leaned back on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he regarded you with intrigue.

The words erupted from you, a mix of anger and resignation. "I can't do this anymore!" you exclaimed, your hands clenching into tight fists as frustration surged through you. "The deal's off. It's over."

Heeseung's amused expression faded, replaced by a brief flicker of surprise. He had not expected you to concede so easily. He sat up on the couch, his eyes never leaving your face as he studied you silently.

Heeseung's surprise quickly turned into a smug grin, his arrogance fully returning. He stood up from the couch, casually making his way towards you. "Oh, come on now. You’re just giving up so easily? Where's the fight in you?”

Your true feelings finally burst forth, the pent-up emotions overflowing. "I just can't keep up this act anymore!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Spending the entire day pretending that I don't loathe every second of being around you... it's too much!"

Heeseung chuckled, his arms now crossed lazily across his chest as he leaned back on the couch. "Loathe every second, huh?" he remarked, his voice dripping with smugness. "I can't say I'm surprised, considering how much you've always hated me."

A sarcastic scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms, a defiant look in your eyes. "Please, enlighten me, Heeseung," you retorted, your voice laced with irritation. "Why do you think I despise you so deeply?"

Heeseung's smirk widened as he reveled in your irritation. He chuckled softly before responding, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I uploaded that embarrassing video of you puking your brains out at that frat party back in our freshman year."

"That's exactly what I want to know!" you shot back, your anger and hurt seething beneath the surface. "What made you humiliate me that day? What prompted you to upload that video for everyone to see?"

Heeseung shrugged, his expression unrepentant. "It was just a silly prank, that’s all." he replied nonchalantly. "I didn’t think you’d take it so personally."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you stepped back, creating a physical distance between you and him. "Wow," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. "You really are a heartless jerk."

Heeseung’s smirk didn’t waver, and he took a step closer to you. "Oh c’mon, it’s not like it was the end of the world." he taunted. "Besides, it was pretty funny to see you all green-faced and puking your guts out.

A firm demand left your lips as you gestured towards the front door. "Get out," you directed, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Heeseung’s smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing at your firmness. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on you, before a taunting smirk returned to his lips. "And what if I don’t want to?" he challenged, taking another step towards you.

“Then I'll call the cops and accuse you of harassing me!" Your eyes narrowed, your anger and determination evident.

Heeseung chuckled, his arms still crossed, not intimidated in the slightest. "And what makes you think anyone would believe you?" he countered, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Frustration and exhaustion consumed you, pushing you to the edge. "I'm done," you murmured, your voice filled with weariness as you retreated to your bedroom.

Heeseung's smirk faded as you retreated to your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room. He watched the door close behind you, a flicker of something inexplicable crossing his face before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance.

He stood there for a few moments, the silence deafening. He didn't know what to do next. He had expected you to cave in, to give him what he wanted. But he hadn't expected you to stand up to him, to outright kick him out. The look in your eyes had been different, more vulnerable, almost... hurt.

He gritted his teeth, his mind whirling with a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He was not used to people not giving him what he wanted, and he hated that you had just stood up to him like that.

He considered knocking on your bedroom door, to go in there and confront you, to demand an explanation for your behavior. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the hurt look in your eyes, or maybe it was his own ego refusing to stoop down to that level.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the inexplicable turmoil within him. He glanced around the living room for a moment, realizing that there wasn't anything else for him to do here. After a few moments of internal debate, he reluctantly made his way to the front door and let himself out.

—

The next few days were tense and awkward, as both of you avoided each other in the hallways and classes. The only interactions you had were brief glances filled with silent anger and resentment.

Heeseung's usual air of arrogance was even more pronounced, and he made no effort to hide his irritation whenever you happened to be in proximity to each other

Heeseung, leaning against a locker with a scowl on his face, is approached by Sunghoon and Jake as they walk up to him.

"Hey, what’s with the sour face?" Jake asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Heeseung just grumbled and rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to talk.

“Did you and y/n break up or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at you talk to a couple of your friends from far away.

Heeseung’s scowl deepened as he watched you interacting with your friends.

"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged surprised glances after hearing Heeseung's words. They hadn’t expected that.

"Wait, seriously? You and y/n?" Sunghoon questioned, sounding skeptical.

Heeseung's jaw tightened as he remembered the incident that had started all of this. It was that stupid party three years ago that had caused him to upload that stupid video, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Yeah, we were supposed to be fake dating, but she just called it off."

Jake and Sunghoon looked surprised again, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Why did she call it off?" Jake inquired, curiosity piqued.

Heeseung grunted, his irritation resurfacing. "She said she couldn’t keep up the act any longer and that she despised me too much."

Sunghoon and Jake exchange surprised glances again.

"Damn," Sunghoon muttered. "I didn't know she hated you *that* much."

Jake chimed in, his tone serious. "I think you should apologize, dude," he stated bluntly. "What you did to her was messed up."

Heeseung rolled his eyes, his usual cockiness returning. "Why the hell would I apologize? She should be thanking me; her popularity skyrocketed after that whole puking incident blew up on social media."

"Are you kidding?" Jake retorted, his tone laced with disbelief. "You uploaded a video of her puking her guts out for the whole school to see, and you think she should thank you? Seriously?"

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unrepentant. "Hey, it’s not my fault if she can’t handle a little embarrassment. Besides, we were both drunk that night. She was drinking just as much as I was, if not more."

Sunghoon shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Man, you’ve really got some messed up ideas about what constitutes a ‘prank.’ You humiliated her, Heeseung. That’s not something you do to someone you care about, even if it’s fake dating. You need to apologize to her and make things right."

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation building. "First of all, I don’t care about her one bit. And second, why do I have to apologize when it was her own stupidity that got her into that situation in the first place? She’s the one who downed all those shots and ended up puking. Not my fault she can’t handle her alcohol.”

"Dude, that's completely irrelevant," Jake interjected, his voice firm. "It doesn’t matter how much she drank or how she ended up puking. What matters is that you deliberately chose to film her and upload it online, without her consent or knowledge, for hundreds of people to see. That’s a shitty thing to do, no matter how you spin it."

Heeseung let out another annoyed sigh as he looked at the disapproving faces of Sunghoon and Jake. He knew they were right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Fine," he grumbled, his tone reluctant. "I’ll apologize. But I’m not going to enjoy it, and I’m not going to mean it."

Sunghoon and Jake nodded, but their expressions remained skeptical. They knew better than to get their hopes up.

"Good luck," Jake said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t respond. He grumbled under his breath and walked away, making his way towards where he knew you would be.

He found you with a small group of friends, chatting and laughing. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, and for a moment, he paused, watching you from a distance. There was something about the way you smiled and laughed that tugged at some unknown part of him, but he quickly shook it off, reminding himself that he didn’t care about you.

He took a deep breath, mustering up his usual arrogant facade, and took a step forward, making his presence known. He cleared his throat, catching your attention.

You and your friends turned to look at him, your expression immediately turning cold the moment you saw him. You tried to suppress the anger and hurt that bubbled up inside you every time you laid eyes on him.

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the look on your face, but he quickly masked it with his usual cocky smirk. He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Hey, can we talk,” he began, his tone nonchalant, betraying none of the conflict within him.

You and your friends exchanged wary glances. It was unusual for Heeseung to ask to talk to you, especially in front of an audience. You felt an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity. You nodded, reluctantly stepping away from your friends to talk to him.

Once you were a few steps away from your friends, far enough for them not to overhear the conversation, Heeseung spoke again. His voice had a hint of strain in it, as if he was forcing himself to speak.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said, his tone serious for once.

There was no room for discussion as you made your stance clear. "If you think you can just waltz up and apologize, forget it," you stated firmly. "I don't want to hear it."

Heeseung’s expression faltered for a moment, momentarily taken aback by your firmness. He hadn’t expected you to be this adamant, but he quickly recovered and masked his surprise with his usual haughty demeanor.

"Oh really," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re just going to reject my apology without even hearing me out?"

Your eyes rolled in annoyance. "You've got thirty seconds. That's all you get," you conceded, reluctantly granting him a brief opportunity to speak.

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your ultimatum. He didn’t expect you to give him a chance to speak, but he wasn’t going to waste it. He took a step closer to you, his face suddenly serious as he looked into your eyes.

Without warning, Heeseung reached forward and grabbed your face, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips firmly against yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard. Your body tensed involuntarily, the shock of the kiss coursing through your body. But as much as you despised him and his arrogance, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the feel of his lips against yours.

A few students around them let out soft gasps and coos as they noticed the unexpected kiss. It was quite the sight to behold, especially considering the tension between the two of you that had been simmering for years.

Heeseung ignored the reactions of the people around them, his focus solely on you. When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

You were still in shocked state and speechless, your mind still reeling from the unexpected kiss. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your gaze firmly fixed on his face.

"Heeseung," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell was that?"

Heeseung let out a sigh, his hands dropping from your cheeks. He took a step back, giving you some space.

"It was my way of apologizing," he replied, his voice low. His gaze flicked over your face, watching your expression carefully. "And my way of making you listen to me for more than 30 seconds."

Your brows furrowed, your shock quickly turning into irritation. "Is that your idea of an apology?" you questioned, your voice laced with disbelief. "Kissing me without any warning or consent?"

Heeseung noticed the slight flush on your cheeks and the way your breath hitched briefly during the kiss. Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by him, and a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it, and you didn’t pull back,” he pointed out, a slight edge in his voice.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed that he had noticed your slight response to his unexpected kiss. You quickly composed yourself, trying to maintain a stern expression.

"That doesn’t matter," you retorted, your tone firm. "You can’t just kiss someone without their consent and call it an apology."

Heeseung watched as you tried to mask your reaction to the kiss, amused by your obvious effort. He took a step closer to you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Oh really? Well then, should I give you another one?" he teased, his voice low and slightly seductive.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself unable to resist as you whispered a soft, almost reluctant, “Yes.”

A sly smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips at your response, and he didn’t hesitate to step closer to you. His hands came up to cup your face again, his palms warm and firm against your skin.

Without another word, he leaned in and captured your lips in another kiss. Despite the initial surprise, your body responded instantly, and after a moment’s hesitation, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving against his in a surprising display of reluctant want.

“Ew-“ Jake and Sunghoon watched with a mix of shock and confusion as you abruptly ended the kiss as they appeared out of nowhere. "I thought you were supposed to apologize, not make out!" Jake exclaimed incredulously.

Heeseung pulled back, his expression a mixture of irritation and slight embarrassment at being caught by Jake and Sunghoon. He shot them a glare, annoyed at their interruption.

"We were in the middle of something," he retorted, his tone sharp.

Jake chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, we could see that," he commented, clearly amused by the situation.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, looked between you and Heeseung with a slight frown. "So, did he apologize or not?" he asked.

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation resurfacing. "I was trying to," he grumbled. "And then the situation got a bit... distracted."

Jake let out a snort of laughter as he glanced at you, your cheeks still tinged with color from the unexpected kiss.

Heeseung leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low tone, ensuring his words were for your ears only.

"We’re not done yet," he murmured, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as the new nickname slipped from your lips, a mix of surprise and reluctant endearment. "Stop it, Hee..." you protested, shoving him away gently.

Heeseung chuckled lowly at your reaction, his smirk only widening as he saw the blush on your cheeks. The nickname slipped out so naturally from your lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Nope, not a chance," he replied, his tone filled with amusement. "I like the sound of it. You’re stuck with it now."

—

Over the next few days, the school was abuzz with the talk of you and Heeseung's unexpected public display of affection. The kiss he had given you in front of everyone was the talk of the school, and his friends constantly teased him about it.

One evening, Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. After not seeing you in the halls after classes, he decided to look for you.

He searched the school and finally found you sitting by yourself in a secluded rooftop area, looking out into the darkening sky. Heeseung approached, footsteps soft against the gravel, and stood a few feet away from you.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he stated, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms as he observed you from the corner of his eye.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened slightly at your nonchalant response. He hadn’t expected such an indifferent reaction from you, and it irritated him even more. He pushed off the fence and took a few steps towards you.

"Why are you avoiding me? Because of what I did?" he asked, his voice sharp. He was standing only a few feet away from you now, his eyes locked onto your face, trying to decipher your expression.

Frustration and hurt bubbled up within you, your voice tinged with pain. "After that kiss," you spoke, your words thick with emotion, "I actually believed that you might have feelings for me. But I see now that it's just another game to you, isn't it?"

Heeseung’s jaw tensed as you spoke, your raw emotional response catching him slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected you to believe that he had feelings for you, especially after all the years of animosity between you.

"It’s not a game," he managed to grind out, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

He took a step closer to you, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "The kiss was genuine," he admitted, his gaze fixed on your face. "I didn’t do it just for fun or as part of some game."

He took another step closer, the gap between you now small. He reached out, his hand gently lifting your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"It just happened," he said, his voice softer now. "I wasn’t planning on it, but I couldn’t help myself."

He studied your face, looking for any sign of your reaction. He was struggling to understand why he had acted so impulsively, why he'd wanted to kiss you so badly.

"You just... you looked so captivating in that moment," he mumbled, his voice low.

His hand was still under your chin, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. He realized how close he was to you now, his heart racing for some inexplicable reason.

"I just did it, without thinking," he murmured, his eyes intently fixed on yours. "And I don’t regret it."

Your voice trembled with vulnerability as you sought confirmation. "You don't...?” You whispered, desperate for reassurance, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Heeseung’s grip on your chin tightened slightly as he responded, his voice firm and unwavering.

"No," he said, his tone resolute. "I don’t regret it at all. It felt right."

He took another step closer, his body almost touching yours now. His eyes searched your face, his gaze intent.

"It felt right," he repeated, his voice softer now. His hand slowly slid from your chin down to your cheek, and he cupped your face gently, as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

Heeseung’s gaze held a hint of something—an emotion that you couldn’t quite place as he looked at you. He was still holding your face tenderly in his hand.

"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked, his voice soft. "I have some studying to do. Want to join me?"

A laugh threatened to slip from your lips at the surprising invitation. "You, studying? That's a first," you teased, your words filled with disbelief.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew that he wasn’t exactly known for his diligent study habits, but he had some studying he needed to catch up on.

"Oh, shut up. I do study sometimes." he retorted, his tone light.

Heeseung's smirk widened as he picked up on your entendre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He took a step closer, his body now nearly pressed against yours.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy this kind of studying," he murmured, his voice low.

With that, Heeseung leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from yours. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and his pulse quickened.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch, to hear your voice. And right now, studying seemed like the perfect excuse to get what he wanted.

The nickname slipped from your lips once again, your voice tinted with unexpected familiarity. "Not right now, Hee," you echoed, the term of endearment rolling off your tongue almost effortlessly.

Heeseung's chest tightened at the sound of the nickname on your lips. It was just a slip up, a moment of weakness, but it sent a wave of something through him that he couldn’t explain.

He pushed closer, his body pressed against yours now. His hand moved from your face to your waist, holding you firmly against him.

"I think we should skip the studying," he murmured, his voice low. "I have something else in mind."

Heeseung pulled out his phone and typed something quickly into it before looking back up at you.

"Texted you my address," he said, his voice cool and casual. He took another step back before giving you a brief smirk. "Don’t be late."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing a little faster than before.

You stood there momentarily surprised, watching as Heeseung sauntered away. Your mind was still spinning from his sudden invitation, the unexpected nickname still lingering on your lips.

Without hesitating any longer, you fished out your phone from your pocket and saw the notification from Heeseung—his address. A part of you knew what he had in mind, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought.

As you rode the bus to Heeseung’s place, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. It still felt unreal, the fact that you were on your way to your sworn enemy's home with who knows what kind of intentions.

The butterflies in your stomach were becoming more prominent, and you took deep breaths to still your heart. It was only a study session, nothing more. At least, it’s what you told yourself.

After a few more minutes, the bus came to a stop and you stepped off, looking around to make sure you were in the right place. You spotted Heeseung’s apartment building up ahead, and quickened your steps.

As you approached the door to his unit, you hesitated for a split second before knocking. The seconds ticked by, your heart rate increasing with each passing moment. Finally, the door opened, revealing Heeseung in a casual hoodie and sweatpants.

His gaze was intense, his eyes roaming over your figure in a way that made you feel even more flustered. He stepped aside wordlessly to let you in, and you walked past him into the apartment.

The air felt thick with tension, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as you stood in his space, wondering what the night would bring.

His gaze sharpened as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You're here,” he said as he closed the door behind you and locks it, the sound echoing in the silence of the mansion.

As soon as the door was locked, Heeseung turned to face you, his eyes dark with a fierce hunger. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab the back of your neck and pulled you in for a forceful kiss.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth entirely. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, pinning you there with his body.

"Fucking yell y/n,” he muttered, hooking his fingers in your waistband, tearing your pants down roughly as he kicked them aside along with your shoes.

He stepped back briefly to take in your half-naked form, his chest heaving. He then reached up to remove his own hoodie, revealing his chiseled torso.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. The sight of you standing there, nearly naked, drove him wild. He closes the distance again, his calloused hands running rough against your skin.

“Heeseung, I-“ His movements suddenly still as your words reach his ears.

His eyes met yours intensely, a mix of emotion crossing his features - desire, possessiveness, and something more tender he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Shut up," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy "Just..."

He hooked his arms under your thighs and lifts you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stepped out of his sweatpants, kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers.

Heeseung then pinned you against the wall, his hips pressing against yours intimately. You could feel his hard member poking at your thigh. "Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. "Say the words..." His hands trailed up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your breasts, making you let out a quiet gasp.

His breath catches at the sound of your desperate whimpers, feeling your nails digging into his back.

"Please..." you moaned, arching against him. "Heeseung... I can't..." His self-control is barely hanging by a thread as he listened to your pleading.

His control finally snapped at your pleading, and he captured your mouth in a brutal kiss, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides between your legs. "Is this what you want?" he growled against your lips, touching you intimately through your underwear.

He broke away from your mouth just long enough to pull down your bra, exposing your breasts. His head dipped down, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continued its steady rhythm between your legs.

"Mmh, so good... Heeseung, please... more... " You gasped out, your head falling back against the wall as he sucked on your sensitive nipple, your hips bucking against his hand. "Inside... I need you inside..."

His chuckled is dark and husky as he hooked his fingers in your underwear, slowly dragging it down your legs. He kneeled down, spreading your thighs over his shoulders. "Lift up," he ordered, his breath hot against your most intimate area. “Wanna taste you princess..."

Heeseung pulled your hips closer, his tongue finding your center. He licked slowly, deliberately, savoring your sweet taste. "You're so wet for me..." he groaned, adding pressure, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. "Tell me... tell me how much you want it..."

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, maintaining eye contact as he continued his teasing movements with his tongue "Tell me..." he says, his voice is low and commanding "Tell me how bad you need my cock..."

He pushed one finger inside you, then another "This what you want?"

"Please... Heeseung, yes... I need you... your cock..." You whimpered, your hips involuntarily pressing against his fingers "I'm so close... please..." You're completely lost in pleasure, no longer caring about anything but his touch "Touch me..."

He removed his fingers, standing up and quickly unbuckling his belt. "Shut up and spread your legs." He demanded, pulling out his hard, thick cock. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight."

He positioned himself between your spread thighs, rubbing his thick head against your soaked folds teasingly "Heeseung... Please… want you to fill me up!”

He growled at the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperation, finally thrusting inside you without warning.

He filled you completely, stretching you out as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up against his chest as he pounded into you, hitting deep spots that made you scream and claw at his arms "Heeseung! To- to big!"

Shut up,” he hissed, his face a mask of concentration as he continued to pound into you, his hips slapping loudly against yours.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, getting impossibly deeper as he continued to stretch you out.

He paused his thrusts, his face twisted in a cruel grin as he reached down and forced your mouth open.

"Take it." He spat into your mouth, the bitter taste of saliva mixing with his own saliva as he held your head in place, making sure you swallowed it. He groaned at the sight, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head in response, bucking your hips up, but he doesn’t move. “You didn’t answer my question princess.”

“I-I’m a good girl for you..” you muttered embarrassingly as Heeseung chuckled at your flustered expression.

He wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing his saliva mixed with yours "Taste good? Now open your legs wider. I'm not done with you yet,” He let out a low groan, thrusting deeper and harder, his body slapping against yours with force "You feel that?"

"Hnnngh... f-fuck... it's so deep..." You whined, your voice strained and high-pitched as he hits your deepest spots with every thrust. Your legs shook from the intensity, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and slight pain.

He smirked darkly at your whimpers, continuing to pound into you mercilessly "You're shaking already? I haven't even gotten started yet..." he teased, reaching up and pinches one of your nipples, twisting it slightly.

His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly as he continued to thrust into you. "You like it rough, don't you?" He hummed, his face inches from yours. His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you harder and deeper.

"Heeseung... mmph..!" you responded, too cock hungry to think straight. His hand tightened around your throat, cutting off most of your air as he continues to pound into you forcefully. "You're almost there, aren't you? Those pretty eyes are rolling back..." his voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

His free hand reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it viciously as he continues to choke you. He looks into your bulging eyes, enjoying the sight of you struggling to breathe. "Look at me while I strangle you. You so good under me y/n…”

"Look at me... yeah... that's it...” he groaned, rubbing your clit faster while maintaining his grip on your throat, making sure your orgasm builds quickly "Cum for me... let me feel you squeeze my cock..." He groaned, his voice both demanding and seductive.

Aghh... c-can't... breathe..." You managed to choke out between gasps, your vision starting to blur at the edges. His fingers on your clit were driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge even as he cuts off your air supply. "Hnngh..."

Heeseung smirked at your breathless whimpers "Just give up... let go..." he said, his voice turning husky. "Cum all over my cock while I choke you... show me how much you want it..." His fingers sped up on your clit, putting more pressure.

His hand on your throat tightened even more, his fingers digging into your neck as he continued to rub your swollen, sensitive bud furiously. "You're getting close, aren't you?” he chuckled, your legs shaking as your nails dig into his back.

He finally relents, releasing his grip on your throat and letting you gasped for air as his other hand keeps rubbing your clit at a frantic pace. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, muffling your screams as he forced his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your cries of ecstasy.

Finally, he broke the kiss just in time to watch your face contort in pleasure as you hit your climax, his fingers still working your clit. "There we go... cum all over my cock like a good girl..." He praised deeply, continuing his thrusts as your inner walls clamped down on him.

Youd body shook uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you, your eyes rolling back as you let out a silent scream. "Heeseung! Feels so good...!" You clawed at his back desperately, your nails digging deep into his skin as you rode out your intense orgasm.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers slowly pulling out of your hair and stroking your cheek tenderly as he continued to thrust in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure. "Shh, baby. You're gushing all over my lap. Look at me." He demanded softly.

You managed to open your eyes and look up at Heeseung, your face flushed and covered in sweat as you panted heavily, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Hee-seung..." You whispered his name, your voice hoarse from screaming.

After pulling out, he coated his fingers with your mixed fluids and brought them to your lips. "Taste how good you feel wrapped around my cock..." He commanded softly, but firmly.

"Take it all..." He maintained eye contact as you obeyed, slowly sliding his fingers into your mouth.

"Such a good girl..." He praised softly, watching as you dutifully cleaned his fingers. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before pulling back. "So pretty..."

Heeseung studied your face closely, his expression unreadable. He was still coming down from the high of your encounter and was struggling to keep a poker face.

"Hey," he said finally, his voice low. "You're unusually quiet. Are you alright?"

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I'm fine," you replied, but you still found yourself unable to meet his gaze. The aftermath of what had just happened had caught up to you, and you were struggling to process all the emotions coursing through you. But you were not ready to deal with that just yet.

"Just tired," you mumbled, shifting to sit up to put your clothes on, your legs wobbly from earlier.

Heeseung watched as you attempted to stand on shaky legs, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You sure you don't need a hand there, princess?" he teased, pushing himself off the wall and heading over to you.

He grabbed your shirt that lay discarded on the ground and knelt down in front of you. He gently lifted your arms and slipped the shirt over your head, his touch surprisingly gentle. His hands lingered on your hips as he helped you pull the fabric down over your body.

Heeseung's unexpected act of pulling you into a tight embrace caught you off guard. "What are you doing, Hee?" you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He spoke softly, his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I realized I never gave you a proper apology," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, y/n." The genuineness in his voice was undeniable, his remorse palpable.

He pulled away slightly, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face. His eyes met yours and there was something different about his gaze, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. "I'm really sorry," he repeated, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

You were taken aback by the earnestness in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt as though he was laying himself bare before you.

"I..." You didn't know how to respond. You had never expected to hear anything like this from Heeseung, let alone this level of vulnerability. "I... I accept your apology," you mumbled softly, still processing everything.

Heeseung's shoulders seemed to drop in relief at your accepting his apology. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him again.

"That's a start," he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. "We've got a long way to go, you and I."

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ekybrini · 4 months ago

Text

slipping through my fingers| JACK HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | in which y/n and Jake childhood best friends who've always had something there for each other. But once jack gets drafted everything changed for both of them.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 17.8k (GUYS IM SORRY)

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im so excited to finally start writing again! I apologizer if this seems rushed. also this is EXTREMELY INACCURATE!!! please don't think this is literal, I don't know how some of these things work. also i apologize if this is cringe bc I CANNOT write romance for the life of me. I'm currently on spring break so I'll be trying to take advantage of being able to write a few things! if anyone wants to request or suggest anything don't hesitate to go into my inbox . i'll try to get to it and write it as soon as I can :) after spring break I may be a little inactive as i'm trying to lock in, in some of my classes before the semesters is over (ap econ and living earth are actually kicking my ass)

⟡ slipping through your fingers | jack hughes (jacks pov)

Part two

You've known Jack since you were kids. Backyard games of street hockey, summer nights spent on the lake, and watching him skate around with his brothers. you were always there. best friends through and through.

The first time you met Jack, you were about 10 years old. You had just moved into the neighborhood and the first thing you noticed was the street hockey that was happening right outside of your house. The kids from the neighborhood were scattered in every direction, sticks raised, yelling at each other. The one who caught your attention right away was the kid with the wild hair, darting around the group with such speed that it was almost impossible to keep up. He made it look effortless. He, of course, was jack.

You were lonely at first, standing awkwardly by the curb or watching the game through your bedroom window . Jack, always the curious one, had spotted you one day as you were sitting on the curb and skated over with a big grin.

"You gonna watch all day, or do you wanna join us?" he’d asked, not missing a beat, despite being out of breath. his eyes were full of that contagious energy.

You'd hesitated, feeling unsure. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at this... I’ve never really played before.”

"Come on! I’ll teach you," Jack insisted. "It’s easy, you just gotta push the puck this way, and then..." He demonstrated, sending the puck flying past you. "See? Just like that!"

It wasn’t perfect, but you tried. And Jack, always encouraging, cheered you on even as you missed the puck completely a few times. "Don’t worry. You’ll get it. It’s all about having fun."

From that moment on, you and Jack were inseparable. Summer after summer, it was the same routine. Jack, with his scruffy hair and infectious smile, would be the one to drag you out onto the street, even if you were just coming off a bad day at school or feeling a little down.

One of your favorite memories came when you were both about 12 years old. It was a hot, sticky summer afternoon. Jack, as usual, had the game already set up, calling the shots while the other neighborhood kids were pretending to be superstars in a game that felt far more like a chaotic free for all than a real match.

"You in or what?" Jack shouted, holding out a stick. “This game’s going nowhere without you.”

You rolled your eyes, already seeing the sweat dripping from his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back. "You know, I was just thinking about going inside and having a popsicle."

"Are you really gonna let me down like this?" Jack raised an eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear. “you promised you'd play after school."

"Fine," you said with a laugh, grabbing the stick. "But this time, I’m definitely winning."

You didn't win, at least not that day, but you had so much fun trying. Jack was so fast, his little tricks and turns keeping you on your toes, but every time he made a move, you were there to give it your best shot. You kept pushing him, running after the puck until the sun dipped below the horizon, and both of you were covered in dirt and sweat, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

That night, you sat side by side on the dock by the lake, feet dangling in the cool water as you two ate ice cream bars. The night was quiet except for the distant croak of frogs.

“You were so close to getting me,” Jack said between breaths, a playful edge to his voice. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. “You’ll get me next time. Just wait.”

You chuckled, watching him with a teasing smile. "Yeah, sure, Jack. Maybe when I’m 18 and you’ve forgotten how to skate."

Jack laughed loudly, nudging you with his elbow. “Not a chance. I’ll always be better. But hey, I can teach you some moves if you want.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Teach me how to win, too?”

"Obviously," he said with a grin, though there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I’ll make you into a skating legend if that's what you want.”

You didn't know it then, but those summers spent with Jack would become some of the best memories of your life. Even when the seasons changed and the street hockey games moved indoors. Jack’s determination never left. You spent every Saturday watching him at the rink, your nose pressed against the cold glass as he glided across the ice, his stick flashing, eyes full of focus. He was good. Too good, in fact. And with every game, the crowd cheered louder with his dreams growing bigger.

⟡

By the time you and Jack hit your early teens, things start to feel different. It’s not obvious at first just a lingering glance here, a nervous laugh there. Jack’s still Jack competitive, loud, always pulling you into whatever chaos he’s creating. But sometimes, when his hand brushes against yours, or when he looks at you a second too long after you’ve made a joke, it feels like something is shifting beneath the surface. You notice it, even if you don’t understand it yet.

The way he seems to notice you more, how he’s always trying to catch your eye in a group conversation, how his voice drops just a little when he says your name. It’s subtle, and you try to ignore it. He’s your best friend, right? Nothing has changed between you two. You’re still the same, pulling pranks on each other, laughing at dumb things, challenging each other to stupid games on long summer afternoons.

But the moments keep building like when he reaches across the table to grab something and his fingers graze the back of your hand, leaving a warmth that lingers far longer than it should. Or when you catch him staring at you when you’re talking, and his expression shifts just a fraction of something unreadable there for a brief second before he masks it with a grin.

And then there are those times when the air feels too quiet. Like when you’re lying next to each other on the grass, watching the stars, and the silence stretches between you two in a way it never has before. It’s not comfortable anymore, this space. It’s heavy.

You’re 14 when you notice it for real. You’re both sitting on the dock, summer sun dipping low behind the trees, casting everything in a golden haze. Jack’s freshly showered from practice, hair still damp, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him. You’re half listening to him ramble on about a play he’s been trying to perfect, his words weaving in and out of the soft, distant hum of the lake’s waves against the dock.

But something in the air is different. It feels thicker. The kind of tension you get when you can’t tell whether the storm is coming, or if it’s already here and you’re just waiting for it to break. You can feel the weight of the evening sun on your skin, but your heart feels heavy, like it’s pounding against your ribs, a rhythm you’re trying to ignore.

“You’re not even listening,” he accuses, nudging you with his knee, and you startle, realizing you haven’t heard a word he’s said for the last few minutes.

“I’m listening,” you argue, even though you weren’t.

Jack raises an eyebrow, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “No, you’re not. You’ve been all quiet. What's up with you?”

You scoff, trying to brush it off. “Me? You’re the one who’s weird,” you tease, attempting to lighten the mood, but your words feel hollow, even to you.

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he studies you, his expression more serious than usual. His gaze shifts from your face to your hands, and then back to your eyes like he’s trying to figure something out that you aren’t even aware of.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows, staring out across the lake with a far-off look in his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just us.”

The words hang in the air heavy with meaning you don’t fully understand. You freeze trying to process what he’s said. It isn’t just the words, it's the way he said them. The tone in his voice is softer than usual almost uncertain. There’s something fragile in his eyes, like he’s letting a piece of himself slip past you hoping you’ll catch it, but not quite trusting you to. You don’t know how to respond.

You try to shake off the discomfort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack glances at you, his lips quivering at the edges, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze now. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Just growing up.” He pauses, his voice quieter now almost too soft for the space between you two. He looks at you then, really looks at you his eyes searching for something in yours like he’s asking a question that doesn’t have an easy answer. Something you’re not ready to answer not sure you even can.

You want to say something to reach out and close that space but you can’t find the words. Everything that’s been building between you two feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something unspoken. And the closer Jack gets to this new world he’s creating for himself this future that’s already starting to pull him away from you the more it feels like you’re both standing on the precipice of it.

You don’t have an answer, so you reach over and grab his hand. It’s instinctual, a reflex more than anything else. His fingers slide easily between yours, like they’ve always belonged there. It’s familiar, comforting even. But there’s something different in the way he holds your hand this time. He doesn’t let go immediately like he always does. He holds on for just a moment longer, and in that brief pause, the weight of it hits you.

His gaze drops to your joined hands, and you see a flicker in his eyes something unreadable, maybe even a little vulnerable before he looks back up at you. The quiet between you two stretches longer than it should, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the summer air, or because of the uncertainty that’s silently wrapping itself around both of you.

“I think we’ll figure it out,” you say softly, trying to anchor this moment, even though the ground beneath you feels like it’s shifting.

Jack’s smile is small, unsure. It’s not his usual confident grin, but it’s there. Barely, but it’s there. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Not yet.

You don’t know what “figuring it out” means, or if you even can figure it out. All you know is that in this moment, with the sun setting behind the trees and the sound of water lapping against the dock beneath you, everything feels poised on the edge of something you don’t understand.

But you’re scared that the moment you try to reach for it, Jack might pull away.

⟡

It’s late, the fire has burned down to a few glowing embers, and the crickets are the only sound beside the occasional splash of water against the dock. You’re sitting with Jack, your legs hanging over the side, toes brushing the cool surface of the lake. The night is quiet, almost too quiet, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before.

Jack’s usually carefree, his humor quick, his energy contagious. But tonight, he’s different. He’s quieter, eyes lost somewhere beyond the horizon. You’ve known him long enough to know when something’s off.

"Jack, you okay?" you ask, not pushing, just asking.

"Do you ever feel like things are changing?" His voice is low, almost hesitant, and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat.

You nod slowly, sensing that this conversation is heading somewhere you’ve both been avoiding for too long. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling it." You pause, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you really see him. His face, the way his eyes linger on you, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something more. It’s all so familiar, and yet, everything feels new. "It’s been hard to ignore."

Jack exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath. He leans back, letting his head rest against the wood of the dock, looking up at the stars above. "I’ve been trying to figure it out. For a while now. What’s going on between us."

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in your chest. Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "What do you mean?"

Jack doesn’t look at you right away, but you see his jaw tense, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he glances over at you, his gaze intense. "I think I’ve been avoiding it. The way things have felt. I’ve always known you meant a lot to me. But it’s more than that now. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it."

Your heart races. This isn’t just a fleeting moment, this is him, telling you exactly what you’ve been feeling. Your stomach flips as the words finally hit you.

"I’ve been feeling it too," you admit, your voice steady but your pulse thundering in your ears. "It’s different now, Jack. And I can’t pretend it’s not."

There’s a long silence between you two as the words settle in the space around you. You both know it’s out there now the truth that neither of you could avoid forever. The air feels thick, charged with everything you’ve been holding back.

Jack’s gaze softens as he turns fully toward you. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. "I’ve tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible," he admits, his thumb tracing along the back of your hand. "I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of you as just my best friend. And now I don’t know how to go back."

You feel your breath catch in your throat. This is it. The thing you’ve both been dancing around for so long, the thing neither of you knew how to say. But now, here it is, raw and real.

"I don’t want to go back," you say, your voice soft but certain. "I’ve felt the same way, Jack. For a while now."

"You know, I keep thinking back to when we were kids," he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "Back when things were simpler. We used to hang out, play hockey, talk about everything and nothing. I always thought that was enough."

You smile, remembering those simpler times. "It was enough. It still is."

Jack laughs under his breath, but there’s something different in it. "Yeah. But now... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about how things feel between us lately. And I don’t know how to handle it."

Your heart picks up a little pace, and you look at him, feeling a shift in the air between you two. It’s subtle, but it's there. His eyes are locked on you now, and the usual teasing glint is gone.

"I think I’ve known for a while," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "That things have changed. That maybe… we’ve changed."

Jack’s gaze softens, and for a second, everything feels like it’s falling into place, like the puzzle pieces are finally lining up. "I’ve been thinking about it too," he says, his voice low. "And I don’t know if I’m ready for this to be weird between us. I don’t want it to be weird."

Your stomach flips at the vulnerability in his voice. "I don’t think it has to be. It doesn’t have to be weird, Jack."

He looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he’s weighing his next words carefully. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and that simple touch feels like the universe’s nudge, reminding you that things have always been easy with him. There’s no pretending with Jack. There’s never been any pretending.

"I guess we’ve always been able to figure things out," Jack says, his voice steady now. "And maybe this is just… one of those times."

You nod, your chest tight as you try to put into words what you’ve been feeling for so long. But nothing really needs to be said. This moment, this quiet understanding between you two, is enough.

Jack leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not enough to cross the final line. His gaze flickers between your eyes, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes again, as if he’s waiting for something. The space between you both seems impossibly small, charged with everything that’s unsaid.

You can’t deny it anymore the way your heart races in your chest, the way your breath feels shallow, as if you’ve been holding it in all this time. This moment, this change between you, feels like it could either break everything or put it all back together.

His hand hovers just inches from yours, like he’s unsure whether to close the distance, like he’s waiting for you to decide. The air is thick with the weight of it. You’ve both danced around this for so long, carefully, quietly, but now it feels like everything is teetering on the edge. One move, one step, and it’ll change everything.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Jack’s voice is almost a whisper, his usual teasing gone. There’s something softer in the way he says it, like he’s genuinely asking, genuinely uncertain for the first time.

You laugh quietly, but it doesn’t feel like the teasing kind of laugh you’re used to. It’s shaky, full of nerves. “No... Just a little confused, I guess. Not sure if this is all too much.”

Jack shifts closer, and his hand brushes against yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He doesn’t look away now, and neither do you. His breath is slow, steady, and in the stillness, you hear his heart beating in time with yours.

“I’m not sure either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think I’ve known for a while�� I don’t think we can keep pretending things are the same. I can’t. And I’m not sure what will happen next, but I know I don’t want to screw it up.”

You swallow, your own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. Everything that’s been left unsaid finally hangs in the air between you two, heavy and undeniable. The fear of what could change, of what could be lost, and the quiet hope that maybe just maybe it could work.

"Jack…” You start to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. You want to say that you’ve been feeling it too, that you’re terrified of losing this, of messing it all up. But the weight of it all is too much. So instead, you just shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the uncertainty in your chest. “I don’t know what happens next either.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer, everything inside you pulling toward him, wanting to close the space between you both. And with that final breath, that quiet understanding, you realize it doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be figured out right now.

You lean in the rest of the way, tilting your head slightly, and then Jack’s lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you expected. It’s soft, hesitant at first, like you both are testing the waters. But it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. It’s not about the future or the fear of change it’s just about right now, and the way everything feels when it’s just the two of you.

When you pull away, there’s a breathless pause, but it’s not awkward. It’s not forced. It’s just you, and him, and everything that’s been building between you finally making sense.

Jack’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and there’s a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I think I could get used to this,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

You let out a soft laugh, the tension between you both easing, and for the first time, it feels like you don’t need to say anything more. You both know. It’s not perfect, it’s not figured out yet but it’s real, and maybe that’s enough for now.

⟡

It’s almost midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen, the glow too harsh in the dark room. It’s a text from Jack. “are you up?”

You rub your eyes and sit up the sleepiness fading as you type back. “yeah, what’s up? Are you okay?its midnight.” The dots appear and disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already knowing where this is going. “ want me to come over?” This time, the dots stay. “You don’t have too, just want to talk to you.”

You slip out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping on your shoes without even thinking about it. Your house is quiet as you head out the back door and cut across the yard. Jack’s house is familiar, the kind of place you could walk to blindfolded. The back door is unlocked like it always is.

You find him on the couch, the TV on low, playing some old hockey highlights. His head is tipped back against the cushion but his eyes are open dark circles shadowing his face. He looks up when he hears you, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart ache a little.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jack says, sitting up.

“You knew I would,” you reply, kicking off your shoes and sitting down beside him. Your knee bumps against his. He’s in sweats and an old usa hockey hoodie, and his hair’s still damp from a shower. He looks tired.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes stay on the screen, but you can tell he’s not really watching. The hum of the commentary blends into the background. You wait, not pushing you’ve always known how to give him space when he needs it.

“I can’t sleep,” he says finally, voice low. His knee bounces restlessly. “I keep thinking about the combine.”

You lean back against the couch, watching the screen as a highlight reel of some playoff game flickers by. “What about it?”

Jack sighs. “Everything. The tests. The interviews. The scouts. If I screw up, it’s going to be everywhere.” His hand runs through his hair, leaving it messy. “I mean, I’ve trained for this my whole life, right? But now that it’s actually here I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” you say softly.

Jack lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? What if I do?”

You nudge his leg with your foot. “You won’t. But even if you did it wouldn’t change anything. Not with me.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you, guarded but searching. He’s quiet for a beat. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “It’d change everything else.”

You shift toward him, turning so your knee presses more firmly against his. “Jack, you’ve worked your ass off for this. One bad day at the combine isn’t going to erase years of training and games and scouts already knowing you’re good enough.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, his eyes falling to his hands. His thumb rubs absently along the inside of his palm. “Yeah, but what if I’m not enough?”

You don’t hesitate. You reach over, lacing your fingers through his. His hand is warm, his skin rough from years of hockey sticks and gloves. He tenses for half a second, then relaxes into the touch.

“You’re enough,” you say, quiet but steady. “You’ve always been enough, Jack. Even if you didn’t have hockey.”

Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours, wide and a little raw. His thumb grazes the side of your hand, slow and deliberate.

“You really believe that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Jack’s mouth curves into the smallest smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something. His gaze drops back to the screen, though his hand stays in yours, his thumb running over your knuckles.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home. Jack’s breathing evens out, his knee resting against yours. The highlights on the screen blur together.

“Stay?” Jack asks after a long moment. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”

Jack shifts, leaning back against the couch. You lean into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His hand stays tangled with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his body eases.

“Thanks,” Jack murmurs. His head tips toward yours, his breath warm against your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you say, eyes drifting shut. “Just remember this. When it gets hard, when the pressure’s too much, remember you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jack’s hand tightens around yours, his breath catching for half a second. Then he relaxes.

“I’ll remember,” he promises, voice low and sure.

You smile, your heart steady now as you let the sound of his breathing and the flicker of the TV lull you toward sleep. You know there’s still a long road ahead, the combine, the draft, Jack’s rookie year but for now, this is enough.

It’s late afternoon when you find Jack on the ice, alone.

The rink is almost empty and quite the kind of quiet that makes the sound of skates cutting into the ice seem louder. Jack’s in a plain grey hoodie, a puck sliding back and forth between his stick blade as he moves through the neutral zone. His head is down, shoulders tense, and even from the stands, you can tell he’s overthinking it. His movements are sharp, almost mechanical like he’s trying too hard to be perfect.

You sit down on the bleachers, the cold from the rink seeping through your jeans. Jack’s been like this all week quiet, short answers, disappearing for extra hours at the rink. You didn’t have to ask why. The NHL Combine is in two weeks. The pressure’s been building, and Jack’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

A sharp slap of the puck against the glass pulls you from your thoughts. Jack’s skating toward the blue line, his stick dragging behind him as he breathes heavily, a little unsteady. He circles back toward center ice, but his stride falters slightly just enough for you to notice.

“You’re overthinking it,” you call out, standing.

Jack glances up, his expression closed off but his eyes soften when he sees you. He coasts toward the boards, resting his forearms against the top. His breath comes out in sharp clouds of condensation.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says but there’s no bite to his words.

You shrug. “Figured you’d need moral support.”

Jack huffs a soft laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drops to the ice. “Not really playing like someone who deserves it.”

You step closer, your hands resting on the edge of the boards. “Jack, you’re allowed to have a bad practice.”

Jack shakes his head. “Not now. Not this close.” His hands flex around his stick. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you. There’s something guarded in his expression the same look he gets when he’s trying not to show how much it’s getting to him. His eyes are dark under the shadows of his helmet.

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.

You swallow, searching for the right words. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack exhales sharply, his gaze drifting to the ice. He’s quiet for a long time before he speaks again, his voice low. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice. He’s always been confident, cocky, even but this is different. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

You rest your hand over his where it grips the top of the boards. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Jack” Your voice softens. “You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. One bad practice isn’t going to change the fact that you belong there.”

Jack’s mouth pulls into a thin line. His eyes stay locked on the ice.

“You know that, right?” you press.

Jack’s jaw tenses. He exhales through his nose and finally meets your eyes. “Yeah. I know.” But his voice is tight, like he’s still trying to convince himself.

You squeeze his hand lightly. “Come on. Take the helmet off. Let’s reset.”

Jack hesitates for a second before unbuckling his chin strap. His hair falls into messy waves as he pulls the helmet off, and you smile despite yourself.

“There’s the Jack I know,” you say softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the tension in his face. He sets the helmet down on the boards and rests his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed for a long moment. His breath fogs up the glass in front of him.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Jack murmurs.

You smile, even though he can’t see it. “Because I know you. And I know you’re going to be fine.”

Jack’s eyes open. He tilts his head toward you, his cheek pressed against the glass. His gaze lingers on you longer than it probably should. His expression softens, his mouth curving into something more familiar less guarded.

“You always know what to say,” Jack says quietly.

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description.”

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans back from the glass, turning toward you. “And what job is that?”

“girlfriend” you say lightly, even though the words feel heavier than they should.

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before he catches himself. shaking his head slightly. “You’ve been overpaid.”

You laugh. “I don’t know. Pretty sure I’ve earned it.”

Jack’s hand slides from the boards, brushing against yours as he steps back onto the ice. The contact is brief a split second but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

He skates backward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay?”

You smile. “Always.”

Jack nods, his jaw unclenching slightly. His shoulders relax as he turns and skates toward the far side of the ice. He moves differently now, smoother, looser. It’s not perfect, but it’s him.

⟡

Jack’s in Buffalo for the Combine. He’d been gone for almost a week now, thrown into a blur of interviews, medical tests, and physical evaluations. You’d been following the coverage clips of him flashing across social media, a quick shot of him stepping into the arena or walking down a hallway with other top prospects. He looked calm on the surface, but you knew better. The absence of him is starting to feel like a hollow ache beneath your ribs. You’ve talked to him every day, quick texts in the morning, rushed calls at night but it’s not the same as having him there next to you. He’s exhausted you can tell even through the phone but he’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

You’re half asleep when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It takes you a second to realize what’s happening, the glow from the screen sharp against the dark. You blink, rubbing your eyes as you reach for it for the sixth time this week knowing it was a text from Jack “are you awake?”

You sit up, sleep slipping away as you type back. “yeah. What's wrong? it’s late.” The typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already feeling the tightness in your chest. “want me to call?” A pause. “I just need to hear your voice.” Jack replied.

You hit the call button without even looking at his message. Jack answers on the second ring. “Hey,” you say softly. “Hey,” Jack’s voice is rough, low. He sounds tired.

“Did you just finish?”

“Yeah.” He exhales sharply. “Got back to my room like five minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh. “Where do I start?” His voice is tight, and you picture the way he probably looks right now sprawled out on the hotel bed, arm draped over his eyes. “The bike test was brutal. My legs were shaking so bad I thought I was going to fall off.”

You wince. “That bad?”

“They crank up the resistance until you physically can’t pedal anymore,” Jack says. “I could barely stand afterward.” Your chest tightens. “Jack” he cuts you off. “And the VO2 max test?” Jack groans. “I thought I was gonna puke. I was seeing spots by the end.” You frown. “Did anyone else struggle that much?”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be better than that.” His voice sharpens. “I can’t afford to screw this up.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly. “You weren’t there,” Jack says, his tone edged with something close to frustration. But then his breath catches, and his voice softens. “Sorry. I didn’t mean”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt gently. “What else happened?” Jack sighs. “Wingate test. They make you sprint all out on the bike for 30 seconds. My legs were already toast, so I tanked it.”

“Jack” you say once again, getting cut off “And the long jump?” He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “I swear I’ve never jumped that short in my life.”

“Did Quinn do better?” you ask carefully. “Of course he did,” Jack mutters. “The scouts loved him.” Your heart aches at the sharpness in his tone. You know how much Jack admires Quinn, but that admiration is tangled up with the constant pressure to keep up.

“And then,” Jack’s voice lowers, frustration leaking through, “they threw me into interviews while I could barely breathe. One scout asked if I thought I deserved to go first overall.” Your mouth tightens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Another one asked if I think I’m better than Quinn.” You sit up straighter. “What the hell?” Jack mutters “I didn’t even know what to say,” His voice is low and tight. “I think I screwed it up.”

“You didn’t,” you say firmly. Jack doesn’t respond right away. You hear the rustling of sheets, the muffled sound of the TV in the background probably an old hockey game. “I don’t know,” Jack murmurs. “I need to be better.”

“Jack.” Your voice softens. “You’ve done enough. You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. You’re too hard on yourself” Jack’s quiet for a moment. Then, so soft you almost miss it “What if it’s not enough?” Your chest tightens. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Close your eyes.” Jack’s quiet for a second. “What?”

“Just trust me.”

A long breath. “Okay.”

“You’re on the ice,” you say. “Just you. The rink’s empty.” Jack’s breath steadies. “You’ve got the puck,” you continue. “Skating down center ice. No pressure, no scouts, no cameras. Just you.”Jack hums quietly, like he can almost see it.“You make the shot,” you say. “Bar down. Clean.” Jack exhales. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “And you don’t even need to look, because you already know it’s in.”There’s a long stretch of quiet on the other end of the line. Then, so soft you almost miss it “I wish you were here.”

“I know,” you whisper, throat tightening. “Me too.” Jack sighs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he shifts. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re not going to find out,” you say, trying to sound light, but it comes out more fragile than you mean it to. Jack’s quiet for a long time. You think he might have fallen asleep until you hear him murmur, “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You press the phone closer to your ear, even though it won’t bring him any closer. “You’ve got this,” you whisper. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jack breathes out, low and even. “Stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah,” you say, curling into your pillow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack’s quiet for a while after that, but you don’t hang up. You stay there, listening to the sound of his breathing as it evens out, until the line finally goes quiet and you know he’s asleep. You don’t hang up. Not yet.

⟡

Jack’s been quiet all morning. His usual easy smile is nowhere to be found, replaced by a tight line of tension in his jaw. He’s been bouncing his knee relentlessly, his leg jittering under the table during breakfast at the hotel. He barely touched his food, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate until Quinn took it away and told him to stop torturing it. Now, he’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back against the wall, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. The hotel room is bright from the mid-morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains, but it feels too quiet too still like the entire day is holding its breath.

Jack’s name has been everywhere since the Combine. Every hockey account, every sports network, every mock draft all saying the same thing. First overall. Franchise player. Generational talent. He should be used to it by now, but it feels different this time. Closer. Like the weight of it all is pressing down on his chest. And you feel it too, even from miles away. You saw it during the Combine the way he tensed when people mentioned the draft, how he downplayed his scores and his interviews even when you knew he’d crushed them. Jack’s always been good at brushing things off, but this feels different. Bigger. Like it’s not just about hockey anymore. It’s about living up to something.

The draft isn’t until later tonight, but the weight of it is already pressing down. Jack’s been working toward this moment his whole life, the moment his name is called, the moment his future in the NHL becomes real and now that it’s finally here, it’s like he can’t figure out how to breathe through it.

You shift closer until your knee bumps his. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Jack’s eyes slide toward you, dark under the shadows of his lashes. He huffs out a breath. “How am I supposed to not think about it?” His voice is quiet, frayed at the edges.

You reach for his hand, your fingers slipping between his. He’s warm always is, but his hand is stiff, tense. “I don’t know. Maybe stop overthinking it.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. His gaze drifts toward the window, but you can tell he’s not really seeing it. His mind is already at Rogers Arena, already running through every possible outcome. He’s been carrying the weight of this for months the expectations, the pressure, the comparisons to Quinn, to his dad and you know it’s only gotten heavier.

“Jack.” You squeeze his hand. He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he does, his eyes are wide, a little raw around the edges. You offer him a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Jack’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what if I don’t?”

“You will.” You don’t hesitate, don’t even think about it. You just know. Jack’s been skating since before he could walk. He’s trained for this put in the work, put in the hours. He’s ready. Even if he can’t see it right now.

Jack’s gaze stays on you, his brow furrowing slightly. His hand tightens around yours. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shift closer until your shoulder presses against his. “That’s normal.”

Jack’s eyes darken. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.”

Jack swallows hard, his jaw working. He looks away, his throat bobbing as he tries to steady his breathing. You can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his chest rises and falls too quickly. His thumb rubs absently against the back of your hand.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” you say softly. “Even if you don’t go first. Even if it doesn’t go the way you expect you’ll still have hockey. You’ll still have me.”

Jack’s breath stutters. He turns his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “You mean that?”

You lift your head and meet his gaze. “Of course I do.”

Jack’s hand slides from your hand to your knee, his fingers curling around it like he’s grounding himself there. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the room shifts. The nerves are still there, the pressure, the uncertainty but some of the tension in his face softens. His eyes flick toward your mouth, then back to your eyes. He exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you say, just as softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Promise?”

You smile, your hand lifting to his jaw. “Promise.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a moment, his hand tightening on your knee. The quiet settles around you both, not the heavy kind, not the tense kind just quiet.

“Jack?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, followed by a knock at the door. “We’ve gotta go soon.”

Jack sighs. He lifts his head, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer before he pulls away. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack stands, adjusting his shirt and brushing his hands down his pants. His gaze flicks toward you, hesitant. “You’re coming with us, right?”

You stand too, straightening his collar. “Obviously.”

Jack’s mouth curves into something close to a real smile, small but genuine. He takes your hand again, linking your fingers as he leads you toward the door.

The car ride to Rogers Arena is quiet. Jack sits next to you in the backseat, his knee bouncing, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He’s wearing a fitted suit, his hair styled but still a little messy at the top. You can tell he’s trying not to overthink it, but the tension in his jaw gives him away.

Quinn and Luke sit in the back of the car, phone in their hand, scrolling through Twitter. The whole car feels charged, the anticipation building the closer you get to the arena. When you pull up, Jack hesitates for half a second before stepping out. His hand brushes against yours as you follow him out of the car.

Inside, the energy is palpable. The arena is packed with media, fans, scouts, the low hum of conversations mixing with the occasional burst of camera flashes. Jack tugs at the cuff of his jacket, his mouth pulling into a thin line. His eyes flick toward you.

You slip your hand into his, squeezing gently. “Deep breath,” you say.

Jack’s jaw relaxes slightly. He squeezes your hand back. His eyes linger on you for a beat before he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Quinn steps up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this”

Jack’s mouth twitches. He looks toward the draft stage, toward the rows of seats, the cameras, the scouts and then back at you. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly.

You smile. “Always.”

Jack breathes out. And this time, when he looks toward the stage, the tension in his jaw fades just a little.

Jack’s heart is hammering. It’s too loud in here the buzz of conversation, the hum of the arena speakers, the occasional burst of laughter from a family. His suit jacket feels too tight across his shoulders, his tie choking him a little more with each second that passes. His name has been circling the draft floor for months, repeated on every broadcast and in every article first overall, franchise player, generational talent but none of it feels real right now. It feels heavy. Like the weight of the entire league is resting on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He shifts in his seat, his hand resting against his thigh, and feels your fingers slip between his. His head turns toward you automatically. You’re sitting beside him, close enough that your knee is pressed against his. Your hand is steady, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping you until you adjust your hand slightly, your grip soft but certain.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, low enough that only he can hear. Jack breathes out shakily. “Am I?” You smile soft, sure. “Yeah. You are.”

Jack’s gaze drops to the floor, his thumb smoothing over the inside of your wrist. He can feel the pulse there, steady beneath his touch. His heart’s not steady. It’s racing. He doesn’t know if it’ll settle until this is over until he hears his name.

Quinn is watching him. He’s sitting straight in his chair, hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes are soft when they meet Jack’s. “You’ve got this,” Quinn says quietly. Jack’s mouth twitches. He starts to nod, but then Luke leans across from Quinn.

“Yeah,” Luke adds, his grin lopsided, a little nervous but bright. “And if you don’t, you can always blame it on Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes.

Jack huffs a soft laugh, but it fades quickly. His gaze shifts toward the stage, where the Devils’ management team is already gathering. The nerves coil tighter in his chest. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly.

You don’t even hesitate. “Always.”

Jack’s eyes soften, some of the tension fading from his expression. He breathes out and shifts closer, his knee pressing into yours beneath the table. He doesn’t have time to say anything else before the commissioner steps up to the microphone.

Jack’s stomach drops. The noise in the arena swells as the camera swings toward the Devils’ table. The commissioner is still talking, but Jack barely hears it over the blood rushing in his ears. His legs feel locked beneath the table. His chest is tight.

“And with the first overall pick, the New Jersey Devils are proud to select from the US National Team Development Program… Jack Hughes.”

Your hand squeezes his.

Jack exhales. He stands on shaky legs as Quinn claps him on the back, Luke grinning wide as he jumps up to hug him. “Dude!” Luke laughs, his arms tight around Jack’s waist. Quinn pulls them both in, his head knocking against Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s laugh comes out a little breathless.

“Go get your jersey,” Quinn says, his voice thick with pride.

Jack’s hand is still locked with yours as he turns toward you. His expression is soft, his eyes dark and bright all at once. “You’re coming with me after this, right?”

You smile. “Try and stop me.”

Jack hesitates for half a second, then leans in. He kisses you quickly just a press of his lips against your cheek but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles once more before he finally lets go and steps away.

Jack walks toward the stage, his heart still pounding but his legs moving steady beneath him. He can feel Quinn and Luke’s eyes on him, your smile burned into the back of his mind. He shakes hands with the commissioner, pulls on the Devils jersey, and lifts the hat onto his head. Cameras flash. The noise swells. His chest is tight again but this time, it’s not nerves. It’s something else. Something warmer.

He looks back toward the floor, toward the row of seats where Quinn, Luke, and you are sitting. You’re still watching him. Your hand rests against your heart. Quinn’s arms are crossed, smiling like he knew this would happen all along. Luke is grinning wide, already pointing toward the Devils logo on Jack’s chest.

Jack breathes out. And this time, he smiles.

After the photos and the handshakes, Jack ushered toward the media pit. Questions are thrown at him from every angle about expectations, about his future with the Devils, about being a franchise player. He answers them as best as he can, his gaze flicking toward the crowd every so often, searching for you. When it’s over, the team staff directs him toward the tunnel, and he barely makes it a few steps before he hears someone yell his name.

“Jack!”

He turns just in time to see you barreling toward him, arms outstretched. Jack’s barely able to brace himself before you crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms come up automatically, locking around your waist. You’re laughing and crying at the same time, your face buried in his shoulder. Jack breathes out, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You did it,” you whisper.

Jack’s arms tighten around you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth. His hands settle at your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of your sweater. His chest is still pounding, but this feels steadier somehow. Grounding.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice cuts in. Jack glances up to see Quinn and Luke standing nearby, Luke practically vibrating with excitement. Quinn’s got that proud but pretending to be casual look on his face.

Luke steps forward first, grinning. “Dude! First overall!” He throws his arms around Jack’s waist, nearly knocking him over. Jack laughs, ruffling Luke’s hair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you either,” Jack says.

Luke pulls back, his smile wide. Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Congrats, Jack.” He steps in, pulling Jack into a one armed hug and clapping him on the back. “Knew you had it in you.”

Jack’s throat feels tight. He pulls back and looks between Quinn, Luke, and you. His family. His people. His hand finds yours again, his fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct. Your gaze softens, and Jack feels his heartbeat finally settle.

“Come on,” Quinn says, nodding toward the tunnel. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Let’s go.”

⟡

It’s been a whirlwind since the draft. Jack signed his contract with the Devils two weeks ago, and now he’s leaving to New Jersey for rookie camp. Jack’s flight to New Jersey is early. Too early. You’re still wrapped in blankets on the couch when he stands in the doorway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His Devils hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting a shadow across his face. His mouth pulls into a thin line as he looks at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I should get going,” Jack says quietly.

You push yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you cross the room toward him. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Jack nods, but his gaze stays on the floor. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “Yeah.”

You hesitate for half a second before stepping closer. Your arms wrap around his waist, and Jack exhales sharply as he melts into you. His chin rests on top of your head, and his heartbeat thrums against your cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur.

Jack’s hand slides up your back. “It’s not like we’ve never done long distance before.”

“Yeah, but” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. It feels different this time. You pull back, your hands lingering on the hem of his hoodie. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big NHL star.”

Jack’s mouth twitches. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jack’s eyes soften. He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “I do.”

You smile, even though your chest feels tight. Jack kisses you softly with a lingering brush of lips and then pulls back too soon. His hand stays on your waist for an extra second before he steps away, his expression shifting into something steadier, more composed.

“Call me when you land?” you ask.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. “Always.”

You walk him to the door, watching as he disappears down the driveway and into the early morning light. Your chest feels hollow by the time his car pulls away. The silence that follows is heavier than you expect.

You try to keep busy over the next week spending time with friends, picking up extra shifts but it’s hard to ignore how quiet it feels without Jack around. He calls every night, though, and you fall into a familiar rhythm. Jack fills you in on the details of rookie camp, the fitness tests, the long practices, and the media. He tells you about the other guys, how Nico seems nice, how Bratt’s already chirping at him like they’ve known each other for years. He tells you how much faster the game feels, how much stronger the guys are. You can hear it in his voice, the strain beneath his usual confidence.

“Hard day?” you ask one night, curled up in bed with your phone pressed to your ear.

Jack sighs. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack’s quiet for a long moment. “I just don't know. I feel like I’m playing catch up. Like everyone’s two steps ahead.”

“You’ve barely been there for a few days, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But it’s not supposed to feel this hard.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.” Jack huffs a soft laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “It’s kinda hard not to.” You’re quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re not gonna figure it out overnight.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Jack doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, quietly, “I hope you’re right.” You close your eyes. “I always am.” Jack’s breath crackles over the line. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Jack’s quiet for another moment. “I love you and I miss you .”

Your heart clenches. “I miss and love you too.”

Jack sighs softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

You keep the phone pressed to your ear until the line goes quiet.

Jack calls you after his full day of rookie camp, his voice low and tired through the phone. He sounds exhausted, more than you expected. You’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your knees pulled to your chest, the phone pressed to your ear.

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice scratchy. “Hey,” you say softly. “How was it?” Jack exhales a sharp breath. “Brutal.”

“What happened?”

“Fitness testing.” Jack huffs a soft, humorless laugh. “Like the Combine but worse.” You sit up a little straighter. “Worse?”

“Longer. Harder.” Jack’s voice dips lower. “I thought I was ready for it, but I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated, and that’s what gets you. Jack rarely admits when something’s hard.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say quietly. “I don’t know,” Jack says again. “It’s not just the testing. The practices everyone’s so fast. So strong. I’m trying to keep up, but it feels like I’m a step behind.”

You can almost picture him sprawled across his bed, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s stressed. Your chest tightens. “You’ve been there for what five days?”

“ a week.”

“A week” you repeat. “Jack, you need to give yourself some time.”

“I don’t have time,” Jack says. His voice sharpens, the frustration cracking through. “This is the NHL. Everyone’s watching.”

You know that’s true you’ve seen the articles, the highlight reels on social media. It’s a lot for anyone especially for Jack, who’s always carried the weight of expectation like it’s part of his DNA.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You don’t have to figure everything out right away. This isn’t going to be easy it’s not supposed to be. But you wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t handle it.”

Jack’s quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper: “I don’t know if I can.” You close your eyes, your heart tightening. “Jack.”

“I’m serious,” Jack says. His voice cracks a little at the edges. “What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”

“You are,” you say immediately. “Jack, you’ve been working toward this your whole life. You belong there.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” you say. “And if you can’t believe that yet let me believe it for you.” Jack doesn’t answer right away. His breath crackles over the line. “What would I do without you?” You smile faintly, even though your chest aches. “You’d figure it out.”

“Maybe,” Jack says. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”

Jack starts texting you more after that. Sometimes it’s a quick message in the morning on the ice or a random photo of his new locker with his nameplate above it. Sometimes it’s a rant about drills, or a chirp about one of the guys. Jesper seems to be his favorite target.

Bratt tripped me in practice today. little rat

What'd you do? you text back.

chirped him about his hair

You can’t help but smile. But there are harder messages too.

Bag skate this morning. Thought I was going to pass out.

Coach isn’t happy with me.

Everyone’s so much stronger.

You know Jack doesn’t say these things to anyone else. With the media, with his teammates he’s steady. Confident. But with you he lets the cracks show. And when he calls you late at night, his voice low and rough, you know that’s when he’s feeling it the most.

One night, it’s past midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen. Jack.

“Hey,” you answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Did I wake you?” Jack asks. “No,” you lie. “What’s wrong?”

Jack sighs, and you can hear the tension in it. “Nothing.” You wait. Jack’s quiet for so long you think maybe he’s about to hang up. Then he says, “I just needed to hear your voice.”

You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. “Rough day?”

Jack’s breath catches. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Jack’s quiet for another long moment. “Coach ripped into me.”

You frown. “Why?”

“Made a bad play during the scrimmage,” Jack says. “Got caught flat footed on the backcheck. Then I missed the net on a breakaway.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jack says. His voice drops lower, almost shaky. “I’m trying. It’s just everything’s so much faster than I expected. I feel like I’m drowning.”

“You’re not,” you say quietly. “You’re adjusting.”

Jack’s breath hitches. “What if I don’t?”

“You will.”

Jack doesn’t answer for a long time. You hear rustling on the other end of the line, like he’s lying down. “I miss you,” he says finally.

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s voice gets softer. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Just for a little while?”

You slide down beneath the covers, resting your head against the pillow. “Of course.”

Jack breathes out. “Thanks.”

You don’t say anything after that. Jack’s breathing evens out eventually, and you think he’s starting to fall asleep when you hear him murmur, barely audible “Love you.”

You don’t know if he’s even awake enough to remember saying it. But your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

⟡

Jack’s first game in the NHL is at home, and the crowd is louder than he expected. He steps onto the ice at Prudential Center, the Devils logo bright under the lights. The noise is deafening, the kind of sound that hits you square in the chest and for a second it’s hard to breathe. His legs feel shaky as he skates through warmups, the ice cutting beneath his skates with every push. The energy is electric, but it’s not enough to drown out the knot in his chest. He knows everyone’s watching him, the first overall pick, the franchise’s future. He tries not to think about it but it’s impossible to ignore the weight of it.

You’re watching from Michigan. The game’s on TV in your room, your laptop balanced on your knees. Jack looks smaller on the screen somehow swallowed up by the bright lights and the size of the arena. He’s wearing number 86, and it still feels surreal seeing it on an NHL jersey. He’s buzzing with nerves you can tell by the way he’s gripping his stick too tightly during warmups. He’s always done that when he’s nervous.

Jack texts you after warmups while the Zamboni is still clearing the ice. “Starting on the second line. My hands are shaking.”

You smile, already typing back. “You’ve got this. Just play your game.”

Jack’s response comes quickly. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You won’t.” You pause before adding, “But maybe don’t sit next to Nico if you do.”

A minute passes before the dots appear again. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Jack doesn’t respond, but the small, shaky smile he gives the camera when it passes by his bench tells you he saw it.

The game itself is rough. Jack looks fast, quick on his feet, but the Devils’ offense struggles to keep up. He gets knocked down hard in the first period, bouncing off the boards and coming up wincing. He pushes through it, but you can tell he’s frustrated the way he shakes his head after a shift, the way he skates to the bench with his head down. The Devils lose 4-1, and Jack finishes with a minus-two rating. His line gets hemmed in the defensive zone more than once, and even though it’s just one game, the postgame interviews are already talking about whether he can handle the league’s size and speed.

He calls you after the game, his voice flat. “That sucked.”

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” you say softly.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Jack mutters. He sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I was minus-two. Do you know how bad that is?”

“Jack”

“Everyone’s already talking about it,” he cuts you off. His voice tightens, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t screw this up” He trails off, his breath shaky.

“You’re not screwing anything up,” you say firmly. “It’s one game.”

“It’s not just one game.” Jack exhales through his nose, and you can hear the tension in it. “This is what I’ve been working toward my whole life. And what if I’m not good enough?”

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead to your hand. “Jack. You are good enough. You belong here.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually. But he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

The first few weeks are more of the same. Jack gets pushed around a lot, the physicality wearing on him. He’s getting hit hard, knocked off the puck more than he’s used to. He’s fast, but the guys he’s playing against are bigger, more experienced. He’s trying, you can see it but it’s not coming together the way he wants it to.

Your phone buzzes constantly after games. Jack’s name lights up the screen with texts “Minus-three. Fucking embarrassing.” “I can’t score.” “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You try to reassure him, but the losses are piling up. The Devils are 0-4-2 to start the season, and Jack’s still scoreless. The media’s already running with it headlines about whether he was overhyped, if he’s too small for the league. Jack tries to brush it off, but you know it’s getting to him.

It’s late one night when he calls you, his voice quiet. “I don’t know how to fix this.” You sit up in bed, clutching the phone to your ear. “You will.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. “I just” He sighs. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s breath hitches. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

Your eyes burn. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s quiet for a long time. His breathing is steady in your ear. Eventually, he says, “I just want to come home.”

You close your eyes, swallowing down the ache in your chest. “I know,” you say softly. “But you can’t.”

Jack doesn’t answer, but you know he’s still there. After a while, his breathing evens out, and you realize he’s fallen asleep on the line. You stay there for a while, the phone pressed to your ear, listening to his quiet breathing.

Jack finally scores his first goal two weeks into the season, a breakaway against Vancouver. Quinn’s on the ice when it happens, and you see the way Quinn hugs him against the glass after the puck crosses the line. Jack looks lighter for a moment, his smile big and bright, but it fades quickly after the game ends. The Devils still lost 5-2.

He calls you that night, and he sounds more tired than happy. “It doesn’t matter if we keep losing,” Jack mutters.

“Yes, it does,” you say. “Jack, you scored. That’s huge.”

Jack sighs. “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second before adding, “Quinn said you screamed when it went in.”

You laugh. “Maybe.”

Jack’s breath softens. “I miss you.”

Your heart squeezes. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time before he says, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”

You don’t know how to answer that. So you don’t.

⟡

Jack’s rookie season should’ve been exciting. It should’ve been everything he’s worked for. Instead, it’s November, and the Devils are on a six-game losing streak. Jack’s gone nine games without a goal, and the media’s not holding back. Every headline is brutal. Every post game interview is worse. He’s not smiling as much anymore. He’s quiet when you call, sometimes too tired to even talk. And when you visit, it feels like he’s somewhere else entirely.

The last time you saw him in person was two weeks ago. You’d flown from Michigan to see him play in Newark the first time you’d been able to since the season started. Jack had barely looked at you when you met him outside the locker room. His face was tight, his eyes tired. He’d hugged you, but it was quick. Impersonal. And when you sat with his family during the game, you saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he carried himself on the ice like the weight of it all was pressing down too hard. He’d been the last one off the ice after the loss, his head down, his mouth pulled tight.

He called you that night late, when you were already back at the hotel and apologized. “I just I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more,” Jack had said, his voice low. He’d sounded exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Now, it’s almost midnight again, and you’re staring at your phone, waiting for him to call. He hasn’t. You’ve texted twice with no answer. You know he’s probably at home by now, maybe asleep. Or maybe not. He’s started turning his phone off after games. Less noise, he’d said. Less pressure. But you don’t know if it’s helping.

It’s hard to know what to say when you do talk to him. When he tells you he’s doing fine, even though you can hear it in his voice that he isn’t. When he tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” even though you can see him unraveling.

The next morning, you call him before class. He answers on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You okay?”

Jack sighs. You can hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the phone a little tighter. “Jack”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re not,” you say gently. “You don’t have to-”

“I said I’m fine,” Jack cuts in. His tone is sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

You go quiet. Jack exhales. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don't know.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. You can hear his breathing over the line, steady but heavy. Finally, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You don’t have to fix it alone.”

Jack doesn’t answer. And after a while, the line goes quiet.

The next time you talk to Jack, it’s after another loss. This time to Toronto. Another night of him leaving the rink without a point. Another night of reporters asking him what’s wrong, why he isn’t producing.

“I’m trying,” Jack says, his voice tight. “I’m trying and it’s not, it's not working.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s not your fault. It’s a team-”

“I don’t care if it’s a team thing,” Jack snaps. “I’m the first pick. I’m supposed to be the one fixing it.”

“Jack-”

“I have to be better.” His voice cracks. “I just I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches. You want to reach through the phone and pull him into you. Hold him until the tension melts away. But you can’t. You’re too far away. And Jack’s already starting to pull back.

“You’re not alone im with you,” you say quietly.

Jack doesn’t answer.

You hear him breathe out. Then the call ends.

The worst part is that you don’t know how to help him. Jack’s not letting you in the way he used to. And you can feel it the distance growing between you, like something fraying at the edges. You want to fix it. You want to be enough to hold him together.But Jack’s starting to slip through your fingers.

⟡

After a while, you notice that not only jack started to drift from you, but also your relationship with him. It starts with the little things.

The missed calls. The delayed replies. The way Jack’s voice sounds a little too thin over the phone, his laugh not quite reaching the places it usually does. He’s tired you can hear it even when he tries to hide it.

At first, you don’t think much of it. Jack’s schedule is brutal, and it’s not like he’s never missed a call before. But then it starts happening more often. You’ll text him after a game Proud of you, call me when you can? and it’ll sit there for hours. Sometimes until the next day. Or he’ll call you late, hours after he said he would, with a rushed apology and a tired “I’m sorry, babe. I just passed out after practice.”

You get it. You do. He’s in the middle of his rookie season, grinding through the hardest stretch of hockey he’s ever played, and he’s under more pressure than he’ll ever admit. But that doesn’t make it sting any less when you see his name light up your phone after midnight and realize you’ve already given up hope of hearing from him that night.

Or when you do pick up, and it’s not the Jack you’re used to hearing.

“Hey,” you say softly, curling up under the covers. “You okay?”

Jack’s voice is thin over the line. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He always says that. Just tired. Even when it sounds like more than that.

“You played well tonight,” you offer. “Had that sick pass in the second.”

Jack’s breath crackles faintly through the speaker. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”

“It’s not on you.”

Jack hums. You can picture the way he’s probably lying there head buried in the pillow, hand resting over his face, the line of his jaw tight. He’s always been hard on himself. But lately, it's gotten worse.

The games aren’t going well. The media’s been tearing into him —first overall pick and only four goals? The disappointment in the headlines is almost palpable. You’ve stopped reading the articles, but you know Jack hasn’t. He doesn’t talk about it, but you can tell from the way he’s quieter now. The way his texts have dwindled from paragraphs to one word answers.

The last time you FaceTimed, Jack barely looked at you. He was lying in bed, hair damp from his post-game shower, and you could see the crease between his brows even when he wasn’t talking. You tried to make him smile made a dumb joke about how you’d start training to become the Devils' new enforcer but all you got was a faint chuckle and, “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Tired,” you’d finished for him, and Jack had sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

It’s been like this for a while now. He’s slipping or maybe you’re the one slipping away. You don’t know how to fix it when Jack’s over 600 miles away, and every conversation feels like trying to grasp sand in your hands the harder you try to hold on, the faster it slips through your fingers.

You’re curled up in bed now, phone pressed to your ear as Jack’s voice filters through the speaker.

“It was bad,” Jack says. His voice is quiet. Defeated. “I just I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sit up a little, pushing back the tight feeling in your chest. “Jack, it’s not you. The whole team’s struggling right now.”

“Yeah, but” He cuts himself off. You can hear the frustrated exhale on the other end. “I should be better. I was the first overall pick I’m supposed to make a difference.”

“You are making a difference,” you say gently. “It’s your rookie year. No one expects you to carry the team.”

Jack’s silent for a beat too long.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Jack?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds distant. “I know.”

You hesitate. “Do you, though?”

His breath hitches. “I just I don’t know. Feels like I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And people are starting to talk, you know? About how maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I’m not”

“Jack,” you cut in. “Stop.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re not a mistake,” you say, because you know that’s what he’s thinking. “You deserve to be there. You worked your ass off for this.”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess,’” you press. “Jack, you”

“I know,” he snaps, and the sharpness of it cuts through the space between you. You freeze, swallowing the knot in your throat. Jack exhales shakily. His voice softens. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

You force a small smile even though he can’t see it. “You’re allowed to be tired.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Another stretch of silence presses down between you. You wait for Jack to fill it, but he doesn’t.

“You want me to stay on the phone with you?” you ask quietly.

Jack’s quiet for a second. “No its okay”

“I’ll stay”

“Okay.”

So you stay. Jack doesn’t say much after that. You can hear the rustle of his comforter as he shifts around, settling into bed. His breathing starts to even out. You stay awake longer than you probably should, listening to the soft sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, wondering how much longer you’ll be able to reach him like this.

Because lately, even when he’s right there, yet he feels so far away.

⟡

It’s been months of missed calls, delayed texts, and half-hearted conversations. Jack’s always tired. Or busy. Or distracted. And when you do talk, it’s like he’s only halfway there like some part of him is already pulling away. You’ve tried not to read into it, tried to convince yourself it’s just the pressure of his rookie season, that things will settle once he finds his rhythm. But deep down, you know better. It’s not just hockey. It’s him. It’s you. It’s the quiet space growing between you, the way it stretches wider with every unanswered text and every empty conversation.

So you book a flight to New Jersey because you need to know if this is still something you can save or if you lost him completely

DAY ONE

The cab ride from the airport to Jack’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The city outside the window passes in a blur of gray and headlights, but you don’t really see it. Your phone sits heavy in your lap, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of the passing streetlights. You tap your thumb against the side of it like you're expecting a message that you know isn’t coming. Jack texted you earlier to confirm he’d be home when you arrived, but that was three hours ago. No follow-up. No “Can’t wait to see you.” No little heart emoji like he used to send.

It’s not that he’s ignoring you at least, not outright. He’s busy, you’ve told yourself a hundred times over the last few weeks. Rookie season is demanding. New city, new team, new pressure. He’s adjusting. You should understand that. And you do. You swear you do. But understanding it doesn’t make the silence feel any less heavy.

When the cab pulls up in front of Jack’s building, you hesitate for a second before stepping out. You’re not sure why it’s not like you’ve never been here before but the weight sitting low in your stomach makes it hard to breathe. The driver sets your bag on the curb, and you force yourself to pick it up, shoulders tensing under the weight of it as you walk toward the entrance.

Jack opens the door when you knock. He’s in a plain Devils hoodie and sweatpants, his hair damp like he just showered. He smiles, but it’s thin, barely reaching his eyes.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is soft, like he's already tired.

You smile, forcing brightness into your voice. “Hey.”

Jack leans down to kiss you, but it’s brief. Quick. Like he’s already pulling away before it starts. His hand finds the small of your back and guides you into the apartment, but it drops as soon as the door closes behind you.

The apartment looks the same cleaner than you expected, probably because Ellen came to visit last week but it feels off. Like someone came through and rearranged all the furniture just enough to make you notice. Jack’s shoes are in a neat row by the door. There’s a half empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. His phone is face down on the couch.

Jack sits down on the couch, leaving a noticeable gap beside him. You sit too, trying to close it, but he doesn’t shift toward you.

“So,” you start, your voice too bright, too forced, “how was practice today?”

“Fine.”

Your stomach twists. “Just fine?”

Jack shrugs, eyes fixed on the muted TV. “Yeah.”

You watch him for a second, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his hand rests against his knee. Normally, he'd have his arm around you by now. Normally, you’d be tangled together and he’d be rambling about plays and drills and how Nico wouldn’t stop chirping him today.

But he’s quiet. Detached.

And you’re hyper aware of the space between you.

Jack reaches for the remote and starts flipping through channels. His brows furrowed in concentration, but he’s not really watching anything. It’s like his body is here, but the rest of him is somewhere else.

“Hungry?” he asks after a minute.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Cool.” He stands. “I’ll order something.”

And that’s it. He disappears into the kitchen without asking what you want. A minute later, you hear the soft murmur of his voice on the phone.

You sit there, your heart beating loud in your ears, and wonder why it feels like you’ve already lost him.

Jack comes back a few minutes later and drops onto the couch, his knee brushing against yours for half a second before he shifts away.

“Food should be here in, like, twenty minutes,” he says.

You nod. “okay”

More silence. The TV hums in the background, the flicker of light reflecting off Jack’s face. You glance at him, hoping he’ll look over at you, but his gaze stays fixed on the screen. His hand is resting between his knees, his fingers pulling at a loose thread in the fabric of his sweatpants.

You clear your throat. “Did you, um talk to Quinn today he was asking me about you?”

Jack’s mouth tightens. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“He’s good.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. The seconds stretch out between you, long and tense and uncomfortable.

“Jack.” You lean toward him, lowering your voice. “What’s going on?” Jack’s jaw twitches. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long week.”

You search his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his forehead and you know he’s not lying. But you also know he’s not telling you the whole truth.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say, your voice soft.

Jack’s gaze flickers toward you, and for a second, you see it the familiar warmth, the quiet vulnerability you’ve always known how to reach. His eyes soften, and he looks like he might actually say something.

But then the buzzer for the front door sounds, and the moment evaporates.

Jack stands quickly. “That’s the food.”

You watch him cross the room, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.

He comes back with a brown takeout bag, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down. He opens the bag and pulls out containers of food sushi, not your favorite and hands you a pair of chopsticks without looking at you.

You stare down at the food. “Did you know what I wanted?”

Jack hesitates. “I just ordered something quick.”

Your chest tightens. Jack always knows what you want. He knows you like avocado rolls, not spicy tuna. He knows you like extra soy sauce on the side and that you don’t like wasabi. But tonight, it’s like he didn’t even think about it.

You pick at the sushi, appetite gone. Jack eats quietly, his eyes back on the TV. The sound of the game commentator fills the air, too loud, pressing into your skull.

After a few minutes, Jack stands and starts cleaning up. He takes your barely touched container and tosses it in the trash without a word.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay.”

Jack hesitates in the doorway. His eyes flick toward you, and for a second, you think he might come back, sit down, pull you into his arms, tell you he’s just tired and that everything is fine.

But he doesn’t. He disappears down the hall, and a minute later, you hear the sound of the shower running.

You sit there, hands clasped in your lap, listening to the water hit the tile. Your heart feels too big and too small at the same time, pressing against the walls of your chest.

Jack’s phone buzzes on the table, and you glance at it. A text from Nico lights up the screen:

Good skate today.

You stare at the message for a long time.

The shower runs in the background, and you sit alone on the couch, feeling the emptiness stretch out around you.

DAY TWO

Jack sleeps with his back to you.

It’s not the first time, but it feels different tonight. Final. His side of the bed feels miles away, the sheets cool and untouched where his body should be. You lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his breathing. It’s shallow, restless. Every few minutes, he shifts, the mattress dipping under his weight.

You think about reaching for him, curling up into his side like you always do. Your hand twitches under the blanket, fingers itching to brush over his back, to anchor yourself to the steady rhythm of his breathing. But something stops you. Fear, maybe or just the quiet certainty that if you reach for him, he’ll pull away.

So you stay still, the space between you cold and unforgiving.

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night to find him half hanging off the edge of the bed, his face turned toward the wall. His arm is curled beneath his head, his breathing uneven. You watch the rise and fall of his back, the way his shoulders tense even in sleep. He’s not resting, not really.

You swallow hard and sit up slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. For a second, you think about touching him, coaxing him back toward you. But you don’t. You can’t.

In the morning, Jack wakes up first. You know this because you hear him moving around the apartment while you lie there, eyes closed, hoping he’ll come back to bed. He doesn’t.

Instead, you hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom, the clink of glass in the kitchen. The low hum of the TV. You press your face into the pillow and try to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

When you finally get up, Jack’s sitting at the kitchen counter with a protein shake. He’s already dressed in workout gear Devils issued shorts and a long-sleeve shirt that fits snug around his arms. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends. He glances up when you enter the room.

“Morning,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you meant.

“Hey.”

You sit across from him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Jack’s gaze flickers toward you briefly, then drops back down to his protein shake. He spins the cup slowly in his hands, condensation trailing down the side.

You try to find his eyes. “Sleep okay?”

Jack nods, distracted. He taps his thumb against the edge of the cup. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm.” His gaze darts toward the window.

You glance at the clock on the microwave. “What time’s practice?”

“Ten.”

“You want to grab coffee after?”

Jack hesitates. His shoulders tighten. “I don’t know. We’ve got media stuff later.”

“Oh.”

You feel stupid for asking.

Jack stands and rinses out his cup in the sink. His back is to you, but you see the tension in his shoulders. He’s holding it all in the pressure, the frustration, the weight of everything this year has asked of him. Normally, he’d tell you about it. He’d talk through it, let you hold it with him for a little while.

But now it feels like he’s trying to keep the distance intact.

“You okay?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Jack.”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “It’s just a lot right now.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you.

Jack’s hand curls over the edge of the counter. His knuckles turn white for half a second before he exhales and grabs his keys from the hook by the door.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” His tone is light too light. Like he’s trying to make this feel normal.

You sit up straighter. “We could go out tonight. Dinner or something.”

Jack pauses with his hand on the handle. His eyes flick toward you, guarded. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

Then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet of the apartment closes in around you.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where he stood. The sunlight spills in through the thin curtains, cutting pale lines across the hardwood floor. You think about the way he used to kiss you in the mornings, sleepy and warm, his hand curled over the back of your neck. You think about the way he used to tug you into his chest after a restless night, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your hair.

And then you think about last night about the empty side of the bed and the quiet wall of his back facing you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. You grab it quickly, your heart leaping in your chest. But it’s not Jack. It’s a text from quinn

"Hope you’re having a good time! How’s Jack?"

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back:

"Good. Everything’s good."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.

You sit there for a while longer, the phone still in your hand, before pushing yourself to your feet. You grab the half-empty protein shake Jack left on the counter and dump it down the sink. The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence.

It’s only nine o’clock, but it feels later. Your eyes drift toward the bedroom the sheets still rumpled from sleep and you wonder if you should crawl back into bed and wait for him to come home.

But you know better.

Instead, you curl up on the couch and pull the blanket over your legs. Jack’s sweatshirt is draped over the arm of the couch, and you pull it onto your lap, bunching the sleeves in your hands. It smells like his laundry detergent and something warmer, more familiar.

you press your face into the fabric and close your eyes, trying to remember the last time he held you like he meant it.

You think about how he used to look at you and really look at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.

But that was months ago. Now, when Jack looks at you, it’s like he’s looking through you. Or worse like he’s already decided what happens next.

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Jack.

“Practice ran long. Gonna be late.”

You type out a quick response "Okay." but don’t hit send right away.

Instead, you sit there with the message glowing on the screen, wondering when it started feeling like this. Like you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away.

DAY THREE

It was worse the next day. The air felt thicker, like it was weighing down every conversation. Jack seemed distracted, his gaze always drifting toward his phone or the TV. When you asked if he wanted to grab lunch, he hesitated for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure," like he was doing you a favor.

At lunch, he kept glancing around, not meeting your eyes. You watched him scroll through his phone between bites of his sandwich. You tapped your nails against the table.

"Jack."

"Hmm?" His eyes didn’t lift from his phone.

"Can you put that down?"

He sighed but set the phone face down. "Okay."

You wanted to ask if he even wanted you here. You wanted to ask why he wasn’t looking at you like he used to, why you felt like a ghost in his apartment. But you swallowed it all down and smiled when Jack forced another conversation about hockey that you could barely focus on.

That night, he sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone again while you sat behind him. You reached out, resting a hand on his back. He tensed.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

"You don’t seem like it."

"I’m fine, okay?" His tone was sharp. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

You stared at the empty space he left behind.

DAY FOUR

You woke up before Jack.

He was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking up in every direction. You watched him for a moment, chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful like this like the Jack you used to know. The Jack who used to roll over and pull you into his arms the second he woke up.

You shifted closer, brushing your hand over his back. His skin was warm under your fingertips. He stirred, groaning softly into the pillow.

"Morning," you whispered.

Jack’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at you sleepily, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Morning."

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He didn’t react. Just sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

"What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

Jack nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I should get going soon."

"Going where?I thought you had today off"

Jack stood, stretching. "I do, I'm just going to go workout with some of the guys."

"Oh." You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Can I come?"

Jack paused, looking at you over his shoulder. "I mean it’s just going to be boring."

"I don’t care."

Jack hesitated. "I think we’re just gonna grab lunch after. Probably end up hanging out at Nico’s."

You bit the inside of your cheek. "So you don’t want me there?"

Jack’s gaze darted to the floor. "It’s not that."

"Then what is it?"

Jack sighed. "I don’t know. Just feels like a guys' thing, you know?"

You swallowed. "Right."

Jack’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, checking the screen. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.

"Who is it?" you asked.

“Nico," Jack said, texting back quickly. He tossed his phone onto the bed, already moving toward the bathroom.

You sat there for a moment, heart sinking.

"I’ll be back later," Jack called over his shoulder.

"Cool," you murmured. But Jack had already closed the door behind him.

You sat there for a long time, listening to the shower running.

When Jack got back that afternoon, you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. He walked in, tossed his keys onto the counter, and sat down across from you. He scrolled through his phone without saying anything.

You watched him for a moment.

"How was it?" you asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your workout."

Jack shrugged. "Good."

"Anything else?"

Jack didn’t look up. "Nope."

Your jaw tightened.

You shifted closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Jack."

He tensed. "What?"

You hated how sharp his voice sounded. Like you were annoying him.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" you asked quietly.

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know. I’m kind of tired."

"Oh."

Jack’s gaze flicked toward you. "What?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, even though it wasn’t nothing.

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He picked it up without hesitation. You sat there, heart sinking as he smiled at the screen. He didn’t even notice the way your hand fell away from his arm.

And that’s when it hit you.

You weren’t the person he wanted to talk to anymore.

You weren’t the person who made him smile like that anymore.

You took a breath, swallowing hard. "Jack."

"Hmm?"

You sat up straighter, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. "Do you even want me here?"

Jack’s head jerked toward you, brows furrowing. "What kind of question is that?"

"You’re barely looking at me." Your voice cracked. "You don’t talk to me. When you do, it feels like you’re trying to get through it so you can go back to your phone. Just say it if you don’t want me here."

Jack’s jaw tightened. "Jesus, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is."

"A bigger deal?" you echoed. Your voice sharpened. "Jack, I flew to new jersey to see you. I’m trying so hard to hold this together, but you’re not even meeting me halfway. If you don’t want this anymore, just"

"I didn’t ask you to come."

You froze.

Jack’s eyes widened, but the words were already out there.

Your heart hammered in your chest. "What?"

"I didn’t ask you to come," he repeated, softer this time. His gaze fell to the floor. "You decided to."

You blinked hard, your throat tightening painfully. "Wow."

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I didn’t mean it like that"

"You did."

Jack’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

You stood up, shaking. "I can't, I can't do this anymore."

Jack’s head snapped toward you. "What does that mean?"

"It means I’m done." Your voice broke, but you kept going. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this. If you’re not going to try, then why am I even here?"

Jack’s eyes darkened. "So that’s it? You’re giving up?"

You laughed bitterly. "You gave up first."

Jack’s mouth twisted. "Right. So now it’s my fault?"

"You know what?" you said, your breath shaking. "Yeah. It is."

Jack stood up, his eyes hard now. "Fine. If you want to go, then go."

"That’s it?" You took a step toward him, tears blurring your vision. "You’re not even going to try to stop me?"

Jack’s eyes flashed. "What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That I love you? You already know that, but it’s not enough, is it?"

"It’s not enough if you’re not going to show it!" you shot back. "You say you love me, but you act like I’m just here. Like I don’t matter."

Jack’s expression darkened. "Yeah? Well, maybe you don’t."

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Jack’s face paled instantly. "I—"

"No." You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "You said it. And you know what? Maybe you’re right."

"Don’t twist this"

"I’m not twisting anything! I’m done!" Your voice cracked, but you held your ground. "I’m not going to sit here and beg for you to care about me. I deserve better than that."

Jack’s jaw flexed.

Your breath hitched. You waited for him to take it back to tell you to stay. But Jack just stood there, eyes stormy, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

You grabbed your bag from the floor. Jack didn’t say anything as you walked toward the door. Your hand trembled as you opened it.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

"Bye, Jack," you whispered.

Jack didn’t reply.

You closed the door behind you.

The flight home feels like a blur. You don’t cry at least not yet but the numbness sets in as soon as the plane takes off. Jack didn’t text you before you boarded. He didn’t call. He didn’t say anything after the door shut behind you.

You stare out the window, watching the clouds blur beneath you, but your chest feels hollow. Four years. Gone in a single weekend. Your friendship since you were 10 of growing up together, of loving each other through every awkward phase and milestone shattered in one conversation.

You scroll through your phone without really seeing it. His contact sits at the top of your recent messages, the last one marked as read. I’m sorry. He hasn’t sent anything since.

And honestly, you don’t expect him to.

Your phone vibrates, and for half a second your heart leaps. But it’s just your mom, checking in. You let the message sit unopened and slide your phone facedown on the tray table.

When you get home, everything feels wrong. Your room looks the same, but it’s too quiet. No FaceTime calls from Jack lighting up your phone. No goodnight texts. No “Miss you” or “Wish you were here.” The absence is deafening.

You lie in bed that night, scrolling through old pictures, ones from Vancouver, from Michigan, from all those summers at the lake house. Jack’s smile frozen in time. Your hand in his. Quinn and Luke in the background, laughing at something Jack had said.

Your chest tightens.

You think about how easy it used to be how you could sit in silence for hours and still feel connected. How you could tell what Jack was thinking just from a look. How his hand would instinctively find yours without either of you thinking about it.

But somewhere along the way, you both stopped reaching for each other. Mostly him.

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Quinn.

“You okay?”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you don’t know how to answer that.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Quinn’s reply comes quickly. “Jack didn’t mean it.”

Your breath catches. A hollow feeling sinks deeper into your chest.

You don’t answer.

Because the worst part is maybe he did.

#hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #nj devils #njd fic #hockey x reader #new jersey devils #hughes brothers

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motorsportbarbie13 · 9 months ago

Text

What's A Soulmate? - Part 1

In which something magical begins.

Warnings: none, just a bit of mutual pining. but this will be an angsty one i think. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Words: 2.6k

Master List

(a/n: new series alert! friends to lovers featuring lando norris. this one will be several parts spanning from 2019 to present day. I've tried my hardest to make sure the timeline/race results are accurate but I may have adjusted something to make it work a bit better for the story line. this is a total work of fiction, purely for entertainment.)

youtube

February 2019

Woking, Surry, England

“This is not going to be a year of partying and laziness, Chiquita.” Carlos throws you a sidelong glance as he pulls his new McLaren into a parking spot early one February morning. “You are here with me to work, not spend your gap year playing.”

“If I’m here to work, then you can’t me ‘little girl’ while we’re here, Carlos.” You bite back, hauling your tote bag from the floor of the low slung sports car.

Carlos chuckles, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both begin the walk into his new workplace: the McLaren Technology Center. “Fair enough, Chiquita.”

Last spring, you had graduated from high school and had spent one miserable semester at the University of Madrid in the fall before dropping out just a few months ago.

Carlos dodges the swat that you aim at his bicep, taking a few quick steps ahead of you as you approach the front door of the large white building. The sprawling MTC is an intimidating building and you knew that if you hadn’t been here with Carlos, there was no way you’d be able to find your way.

After spending a few listless months bouncing from Carlos’ couch in Monaco back to your parent’s estate in Spain, they had laid down the law. You needed to figure out what you were going to do for the foreseeable future if going back to University wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment. They were fine with you not going back to uni right away, in fact, they encouraged you to take a gap year but they expected you to do something productive with your life while you figured out what you wanted to do.

And that had been when your older brother had entered the chat. He had finished third year as a Formula 1 driver a few months ago and would be changing teams come the new season in March. In December, he had parted ways with his long time assistant, who wanted to spend more time with her new husband and less time traveling. Carlos and you had always been the closest of the four Sainz siblings despite the six year age gap (his 25 years to your 19) so it had been the most natural thing in the world to have you be his assistant and social media manager for the 2019 F1 season.

Up until today, Carlos had been attending pre-season meetings and putting time in at McLaren’s sim setup by himself but you had arrived at his flat five minutes from the MTC yesterday, suitcases in hand, ready to get started as your brother’s assistant. It had been ages since the two of you had spent this much time together and while you were mostly excited to spend the year traveling and reconnecting with your big brother, there was a bit of trepidation and anxiety sitting in your chest as you walked through those sliding glass doors this morning.

You were barely 19 after all, little real world experience and you knew absolutely no one in this entire country beyond your brother. All of your friends were attending university in other countries, far away from the world you now found yourself in. Yes, you were excited but you were also insanely nervous.

Carlos leads you down a long hallway, lined with trophy cases filled with motorsport winners trophies on one side and sleek F1 cars on the other. It was an entire shrine to McLaren history, of which there was a lot, and you were in awe as you followed after your brother. “Where are we going?” You ask as he turns down another quiet hallway, convinced you’d be utterly lost if Carlos asked you to show him how to get back to the front doors.

“I have a little office tucked away back here next to Lando’s, I wanted to get you set up with the laptop and sync my calendar so you could get yourself ready.”

You nod, ears perking up at the mention of your brother’s new teammate, Lando Norris. You knew a little about him from a few causal Google searches. He was 19 like you and this was his rookie season in Formula 1. From everything you read, he was a karting prodigy that had been signed by McLaren for a while and had been tapped to drive opposite of Carlos this year. Just knowing that there would be someone around the offices and on the road that was your age made the tight anxiety that sat in your chest ease just a touch, even if you two didn’t end up being more than acquaintances this year.

Carlos hadn’t been lying about his ‘little’ office. It was barely more than a broom closet if you were being honest. Just enough room for a desk, a pair of chairs, and a bookshelf, but there was a large window that faced south so at least there’d always be sun spilling into the small space making it feel a little airier.

You pull your MacBook out of the Dior tote Carlos had gotten you for your birthday last year as Carlos chatters away about schedules, press duties, and what he expected out of you. You listened carefully, taking notes in a little spiral bound notebook as you waited for your laptop to boot up.

“Are you in here talking to yourself again, Carlitos?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and you find yourself smiling at the boy standing in the doorway. He’s a few inches taller than you, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes surrounded by thick black eyelashes. The deep tan of his skin surprises you a bit, considering its February in England and you hadn’t seen the sun since you left Spain yesterday.

The boy’s face instantly sobers when he sees that your brother isn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He blushes, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.”

Carlos laughs, “This isn’t a guest. This is my sister, the one I was telling you about Friday. She’s going to be my assistant this year.”

“Of course, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lando.”

You stand, crossing the small office in just 2 quick strides to shake Lando’s outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lando.” You say, polite smile playing on your lips.

Lando turned around then, not wanting to intrude on the sibling time but also needing a moment to collect himself. He had known that you would be spending the season with your bother and that you two were around the same age but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was for how pretty you were. Your hair was even darker than your brother’s and it tumbled over your shoulders in layered waves that shined in a way that made Lando’s mouth go a little dry. Those dark eyes, round and doe eyed, threatened to swallow Lando whole and he’d barely spent more than a handful of seconds in your orbit.

He leaned against the door frame leading into his office, the sound of your laughter drifting through the walls. He had been used to the constant travel that was required of drivers of his caliber, having spent most of his teenage years on the road but all that time, he always had someone with him. His father, mother, manager. Someone that was ‘in charge’ of him and his schedule.

Now though? Now everything is different. He’s of age, a driver in the pinnacle league of his chosen sport, and totally alone. His friends are either jealous of his success or away at school and Lando often finds himself spending the entire weekend alone in his little flat down the road from the MTC. He was happy, of course, ecstatic that he had been given this chance by McLaren but the truth of the matter was, Lando Norris was quite lonely.

As the image of your face flickered through his mind, Lando felt the tight grip of anxiety ease just a little bit. There was something so open about the way you had greeted him, something about how easy your laugh seemed to come, that told Lando that you were a good person, someone that would somehow be very important to him this year.

“That is your teammates sister, mate.” Lando mutters to himself as he pushes off the door frame, making a beeline for the sim rig that was on the other side of the MTC, hoping that the time spent focused on racing would be enough to get your image out of his brain.

April 2019

Baku City Circuit

“Lando, I swear to God if you’ve slept in again I’m ordering fish whenever I eat with you for the rest of my life.”

Somewhere between Australia and China, you had morphed into not only Carlos’ personal assistant but also the assistant and babysitter of sorts to his stupid, idiotic, hilarious teammate. You adored the boy but most of the time he drove you to the brink of absolute madness.

“I didn’t sleep in! My alarm didn’t go off!” Lando groans, breathless on the other end of the phone.

“That is literally the same thing. I have one simple job here, Norris: get you and my brother to where they belong during race weekends and right now? You’re making me look like an amateur.”

“I just got into the paddock, relax darling, no one is even remotely close to being fined by the FIA. I’ll be on the fan stage in five minutes, meet me there?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you desperately try to will away the Landache, the term you’ve come up with when you get a headache caused by the Brit. “Fine.” You breathe.

It’s your fourth race of the season and while Lando and your brother were seemingly hell bent on driving you to an early retirement, you had never been happier. Managing the busy schedule and life of now two Formula 1 drivers had come naturally to you. Engineers and mechanics in the garage were always a little in awe of your ability to keep the two drivers in line and where they needed to be when. The communications team at McLaren loved you because sometimes, you were the only one who would be able to get the Carlando, as the duo was coming to be known as, to behave.

It was total chaos pretty much all of the time but you were thriving. You and Carlos were closer than ever, working tighter like a well oiled machine. But Lando and you? You two were the textbook definition of Partners In Crime. While you were the picture of professionalism on the track and during business hours, you were the other half of the chaos gremlin duo that terrorized half the grid.

Right now though? Now the chaos gremlin was the perfect paddock princess that had to make sure her best friend and brother got to the right places on time. You round the corner of the back stage area, desperately searching for the mop of wavy brown hair covered by a papaya colored hat.

“Lando!” You call, relieved when your dark eyes catch with a familiar pair light colored eyes. Today, they were an icy blue thanks to the bright desert sun of Baku. “I didn’t think I had to add ‘alarm’ to my list of race weekend duties.” You grouse, brushing at the dust on his team polo.

Lando shakes his head, easy smile spreading across his face. “Am I late though?”

You glare at him, “No.” You huff.

“I would never make you look bad, pretty girl.” He winks and your stupid stomach does its traitorous little flip that it’s been doing lately. It’s disgusting.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.”

“And please welcome to the stage, McLaren drivers Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris!” The presenter calls from behind Lando’s shoulder, interrupting your sparring match.

Lando gives you a wink before spinning around following your brother up the stairs of the stage.

July, 2019

Germany

“That was my fifth DNF this year.” The pain in Lando’s voice sends your stomach twisting. You follow behind him, hands wringing together, as he stalks down the hallway of the hotel in Germany. The race had finished up hours ago but Lando had just been released from media duties a bit ago. Carlos had been caught up in some post-race meetings so you had hitched a ride back to the hotel with Lando instead but now, as you followed his stiff frame stalk down the hall, you wondered if that had been a good idea.

“Lando, it wasn’t your fault. Your car lost power, it’s not like you binned it into the wall or anything.”

Reaching his room, Lando stops and pulls out the key before letting himself in. He leaves the door open though, indicating he wanted you to follow him. “I know that.” He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. The hotel room is pretty normal where hotels are concerned, 2 queen sized beds dominate the space with a large flat screen tv on the opposite side. Lando flops down on the farthest bed, his eyes closed.

“I’ve barely finished in the points yet this season. Haven’t had a sniffing chance at a podium. I feel like such a fucking fraud.”

You had stopped just inside the door, wanting to give Lando some space as he had his tantrum but now, seeing how truly upset he is, you cross the carpeted floor and sit down next to your best friend. “Lan.” You coo, running your fingers through his hair, knowing how the scratches from your nails relaxes him. “Lan, it’s okay. You knew coming in, just like Carlos, that McLaren is in a bit of a rebuilding stage. This isn’t unexpected.”

The problem with Lando is that he is utterly too hard on himself. You had clocked the fact quickly, by the time you had been landing in Australia for the first race of the season, you knew he needed to work on his confidence.

“I know. I mean, I don’t know but I know that you know and I trust you enough to know that you know what you know is right.”

Your head spins. “Pardon me?”

Laughter spilling from your lips pops the bubble of tension in the room, Lando unable to keep the smile off his face either.

“You heard me.” He gripes, sitting up. “And I know -” He stops, glaring at you when you double over with laughter once again. “I know you understood me, you cheeky monkey.”

“I’m sorry but I’m just so terrified by the fact that I did understand that whirlwind of a sentence and can’t decide how to process it.” You say, chest heaving from laughing so hard. “We’ve been spending too much time together.”

Lando grabs the remote from your hand before turning on the movie you had both fallen asleep to last night before the race. “Are you going to be mean to me all night, or are we going to finish this movie?”

You roll your eyes, but toe off your shoes before settling against the headboard of the bed, shoulder bumping with Lando’s as he joins you. “Pizza or sushi for dinner?” You ask, grinning because you already know the answer.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Love you too, Lan.” You counter, pulling out your phone to order some pizza.

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*as always, if you want to be added to the tag list, leave me a comment or send me a message*

#lando norris #formula 1 #f1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mclaren #Youtube

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago

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can you tell me the timeline of twisted wonderland I know the game timeline started in September or august now the timeline is january or febary

The timeline for the main story is as follows:

Prologue - Based on book 1’s timing, probably very late August or very early September.

Book 1 - Crewel states that start of the school year is in September; other students like Cater drop hints that the new students are still getting acclimated to the routine of school. The light novel is even more specific; the OB fight is stated to happen within the first week of school.

Book 2 - Crowley states that the interdorm spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in October.

Book 3 - Final exams of the fall semester are mentioned, so this is before winter break. Most likely occurs in November.

Book 4 - Begins on the last day of the fall semester and continues through winter break (late December) and into the new year (January). This is pretty explicitly stated in various characters’ dialogue (Jamil, Crowley, Ramshackle Ghosts, Lilia, Octavinelle, etc.) or by in-game omnipotent narration.

Book 5 - Begins in the new year (January) and factoring in ~1 months’ worth of training, we end book 5 in mid-February, when VDC/SDC takes place. Mid-February is explicitly mentioned by Crewel.

Book 6 - Takes place literally a few days after book 5, so presumably still in February. Idia states that 5 Overblots (not counting himself) occurred in less than 6 months.

Book 7 - Estimated to be in March due to a variety of factors. It must be spring because Yuu is surprised to see (Malleus’s magically produced) snow when wandering outside of Ramshackle + says “I thought it’s supposed to be spring.” The interscholastic spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in May, but presumably has not occurred yet + Silver states his birthday (May 15) is still “a little ways away”. Assuming NRC has a spring break in April or mid/late March, it must not have happened yet because 1) no students mention a break and 2) the third years would need to apply for their internships early in the semester to allow time for their paperwork to be processed and to do additional tests and interviews. Lilia does say at his farewell party that a full 6 months have passed since the start of the school year; he would have said 7 if it was April. UPDATE: book 7 ends on Silver's birthday, May 15.

I have added this information (or at least a link to it) in my pinned post, which already contains a FAQ section. I highly recommend to my readers to look at the FAQ first before sending in their question(s), as there is a good chance that your question may have already been answered there. Any questions that are repeats of the ones shown in the FAQ will go ignored/unanswered moving forward.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 1 spoilers #prologue spoilers #book 2 spoilers #book 3 spoilers #bool 4 spoilers #book 5 spoilers #book 6 spoilers #book 7 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #advice #twst resource #twisted wonderland resource #twst light novel #twisted wonderland light novel

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milkoomi · 3 months ago

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how to make finals your bitch. ᥫ᭡

- be at your best to give it your best -

hello angels! so it’s been almost 2 months since i’ve been active on here & it’s simply just been due to me focusing a lot of my time and energy into my academics, career, & personal life! i’m nearing the end of my program with my externship just being one month away! as with a lot of us, the spring semester is slowly but surely coming to an end! and that means finals are just around the corner! i wanted my “comeback” to be some of my helpful tips, tricks, & tidbits of advice for getting through finals and making sure you pass with flying colors!

also, thank you so so much for 1.2k!! i didn’t expect to gain such an influx of followers while i was gone! it means so much to me that so many of you have supported my blog even during my inactivity/unexpected hiatus! i can’t promise i’ll be coming back completely as i have my externship coming up, so i’ll be very busy the next few months! but i hope to continue to post every now and again for you angels!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — pre-finals prep

it’s important to start prepping for finals in advance! finals may be 4-5 weeks away, but it never hurts to get a head start in your preparations!

create a checklist! — you can always start by making yourself a list or two for everything you need to get yourself prepared for that intimidating finals week! these lists could be a list of different study materials you’ll need, a list in order of priority of the different classes you need to study for, a list of supplies you’ll need to get yourself through the week (& yes, this can include snacks or any self-care stuff!), or even a list of different topics from your classes that you feel need a bit more of your attention! checklists are an amazing tool to use to keep yourself organized and can help you visual what needs to get done or what needs to be obtained!

plan out the weeks! — designate a day in your week where you take some time to plan out your weeks prior to finals week and the week of! include time blocks where you set aside time to study and time to take breaks and rest your mind & body! add small, achievable to-do lists for each day or a bigger, more broad one for each week! weekly planning can give you a tangible idea of what your weeks leading up to finals and the week of will look like, so don’t hesitate to give it a try or incorporate that into your weekly routine!

tina’s tip: utilize your phone’s calendar app! i do almost everything digitally and i’ve been making great use of the Apple calendar to plan out my weeks! it’s a great way to color code different events, classes, appointments, assignments, etc. & if you’re also someone who wants to get into digital planning it’s a great first step into getting into it!

prioritize & maintain good health! — i’m saying this with love, but pulling all-nighter’s every single day leading up to finals is not going to guarantee the best scores for you. you need to make sure your health is where it needs to be! sleep is absolutely vital to making sure your mind and body is working at its very best. as someone who used to be an insomniac and who used to religiously pull all-nighter’s for school, i’m telling you it is not worth it. i didn’t see any improvement in my grades when i was doing that. if anything, my scores and my motivation for school got worse. you can’t just go all night racking your brain over your studies. prioritize your health! this also means making sure you fuel your brain and body with good nutrients! when i’m only running on caffeine, not only do i feel physically weak, but my mind is using so much more energy on becoming anxious than staying focused.

tina’s tip: make sure you set aside time at least once or twice a week to something that makes you happy, helps you relax, and is not related to your academics! i have a rule for myself that after 7:30pm-8pm every single night that i immediately stop working on anything related to my studies so that i can truly unwind for the night. i’ll use my time before bed to have a self-pamper night, play video games, watch a show/movie/youtube video, draw, read, or chat with a friend on facetime! it’s important to include things that bring you joy into your routine! don’t burn yourself out by only focusing on your studies!

୨ৎ — the study wave

try to give yourself at least two weeks in advance to study for finals. consider these two weeks as the study wave! this is the perfect time to really lock into those time-blocks you’ve set aside for your study sessions. each day should be filled with review & ensuring you fully understand the material! the time-blocks could be as long as 5 hours or as short as 30 minutes. i recommend the start of the study wave to include longer study time-blocks and as you get closer to the week of finals to shorten those time-blocks!

week 1 of study wave — reteaching yourself the material: rewatch lectures, review powerpoints/videos/notes/previous homework assignments, and incorporate study methods like the feynman technique, practice tests, & active recall! use this time to form study groups, don’t hesitate to have longer study sessions (remember to take breaks!), and refresh your mind of everything you need to know for upcoming exams! let week 1 help you decide what material/topics/chapters/classes need more of your time and attention and which ones don’t!

tina’s tip: dedicate certain days out of the week to 1-2 classes! this will help to prevent any overwhelming feelings of stress, anxiety, and/or burn-out as you prepare for finals! prioritize which class(es) need the most review, maybe a couple classes need more than one designated study/review day and maybe other classes just need one day throughout the week!

week 2 of study wave — refresh & review: utilize study methods like the blurting method, flashcards, practice tests, & other forms of active recall! this is prime time to focus on active recall methods. doing so will help make sure the information stays fresh in your mind and will help you refine that mental list of which classes/topics still need a little more attention! week 2 of the study wave should included shorter study sessions whether it’s 1 or 2 hours shorter than week 1 or even as short as setting aside 20 minutes every day reviewing material. take this time to try and focus more on those more challenging topics rather than reviewing every single bit of information!

tina’s tip: if you use the blurting method, i recommend using it towards the end of your study sessions! this allows you to recall information as well as put it into your own words that will show whether or not you comprehend the material. review what you’ve written down based off of memory and identify any missing points or errors in your work! this will also help you refine what bits of information still need more focus! repeat this method 3 times!

i highly encourage you guys to also use this time to meet with professors/instructors to ask any additional questions! you’d be surprised at how much of a difference it makes to ask those pressing questions on different parts of the material!

୨ৎ — finals week

it’s extremely important that you are getting enough rest the week of finals! it all sounds cliché, but making sure you’re well-rested and you’ve filled your body with the right nutrients can make such a crucial difference in your exam performance!

if you have time in-between different exams, use that time to do quick review sessions to prepare for your next exam!

avoid cramming! — these in-between study sessions should be used wisely and in an effective manner. take some time to focus on material that has been challenging for you and don’t worry too much about reviewing parts that you’re already confident with!

keep the review short! — if you have 30 minutes or even a couple hours before your next final, do not use the entire time of your “break” to study/review! give your mind a break to rest! listen to some music, play a cozy game, or even take a quick nap if you’re able to! a lot of your mental energy should be put into your time taking the exam, so don’t expend all that energy into studying/reviewing!

final notes —

finals can be exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and just an overall challenge. since it’s that time of the semester where, i’m sure, most of us are starting to experience a drop in the level of our academic motivation, it’s really important to maintain a good and reliable study/school routine to keep yourself on the track you ideally want to be on!

i stress this a lot in my other posts, but self-care is extremely important in being able to maintain good routines in your day to day life! so be sure you’re still incorporating time to focus on your self care to keep yourself afloat!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

#milkoomis #studyblr #study tumblr #study blog #study tips #study method #study #studyspo #study motivation #romanticizing school #school motivation #academic motivation #academia #soft academia #dark academia #studying #college life #college

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captainsophiestark · 10 months ago

Text

Did I Forget to Mention?

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day Twelve Prompt: "Did you hear that?"

Summary: Nik's SO *might* have forgotten to tell their Mystic Falls friends about their relationship with a certain hybrid. But it's not going to stay secret for much longer.

Word Count: 2,381

Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Okay, I'm calling it! Semesters suck, I'd give anything to be on a quarter system if it meant not having homework on spring break."

My friends laughed, even as I groaned and collapsed back into the couch. I got one week to take a break from school, and a small window to reunite with my friends back in Mystic Falls who'd all gone to Whitmore. We were supposed to spend the whole week having fun starting tomorrow morning, but they'd surprised me by showing up at my house tonight to get the party started early. Unfortunately, a few of my classes had given me homework, and I couldn't give in to spring break until I took care of it.

"I have a feeling you're gonna be singing a different tune in May when you're out of class and we've all still got another month left," said Bonnie with a smile.

"You're just lucky we want to enjoy the break with you," Elena added. "Otherwise we'd be getting payback for you showing up to campus during finals week to 'relax and tan'."

"Hey! I also showed up as moral support, thank you very much!"

"How was that morally supportive?" asked Caroline.

"I brought you coffees! And I was exemplifying the light at the end of the tunnel for you guys, when you finished your tests and could join me in summer fun!"

"Oh! Okay, of course," said Caroline in a tone that I knew should make me concerned. "I forgot, you're right. We'll go make some drinks and leave you to finish this, maybe play some music, so we can model that spring break fun, light at the end of the tunnel for you."

"No," I whined, flopping back onto the couch again. "Point taken, and I'm sorry. Just please don't leave me to this homework alone."

"We won't," Elena reassured me, reaching out to rest her hand on my arm. "But... the three of us might make drinks anyway."

I groaned, grabbing a pillow and burying my face in it. Finally, I sighed, sitting upright again.

"Fine. You know where all the stuff is. Just... try not to get so buzzed you tell me to edit a bunch of ridiculous stuff into my paper, okay?"

"No promises!" chirped Caroline as my three friends all stood. I sighed, but before they could get any further out of the room, a loud thud came from the direction of the kitchen.

All three of us froze in our tracks. We'd spent way too much time dealing with supernatural headaches not to go on high alert after something like that.

"Did you hear that?" hissed Caroline. We all nodded, so I gestured for the four of us to head towards the kichen and check it out.

If it was a vampire, it had to be one who'd already been invited in. If it was a different kind of supernatural creature, between the four of us, we should probably be able to handle it. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Surprises happened all the time, and they could be deadly.

We took up positions just outside the kitchen, then Caroline counted us down with her fingers. When she dropped the last one, all four of us whirled around the corner, ready for action.

I stopped dead at the sight of Klaus Mikaelson hovering by my kitchen island, my heart dropping in my chest. Caroline and Elena both looked ready for a fight, but Bonnie beat them both to it. She raised her hand, and Nik dropped to the ground, holding his head.

"Stop!" I cried, rushing forward and yanking Bonnie's hand down. She stared at me, shocked, outraged, and confused, but to my relief I saw Nik stand up out of the corner of my eye.

Silence settled over the kitchen. Every single person was looking at me, my friends all with incredulous looks and scowls, Nik with a faint smile. For my part, I actually found myself wishing I could go back to my classwork. Just as long as I could be anywhere but here.

Unfortunately, I didn't get my wish. Nik took a deep breath in, and I knew if I didn't speak quickly, he'd take over the explanations for me. As bad as this situation was, I knew that would only make it worse.

I'd been invovled in the Mikaelson drama with the rest of my friends while they'd been living in Mystic Falls, but once they left, I hadn't really given them much more thought.

That is, until I ended up going to college in New Orleans. Klaus and I had run into each other at an art exhibit, and it functioned as a kind of neutral territory. We were both pretty opinionated, and we'd ended up spending the most of the day together, first talking about the exhibit but quickly moving on to other topics, too. We'd had a strange kind of reconnection, although we hadn't really been connected in the first place, and within a few weeks he'd asked me on a date and I'd said yes. We'd been dating since that freshman fall, and recently, I'd caught myself thinking the word love more than once. But I'd been serioiusly, seriously putting off telling my friends back home.

I'd managed to dodge telling them for two whole school breaks now. But apparently, with spring break, my luck was finally running out.

"Alright," I started, holding up my hands before Nik could jump in. "So... Nik and I have been... together... for a while now. We ran into each other again in New Orleans and just kind of hit it off. I didn't want to tell you guys becuase, well... I didn't think you'd take it well."

No one said anything for a moment, like my words were on a slight time delay. Then, all three of my friends started shouting at once.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Out of every single person in New Orleans, in the world, why the hell did you pick him?"

Nik stepped up beside me as all three of my friends had their reactions. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. It was a justified reaction, especially after how seriously they'd been blindsided. Nik didn't seem the least bit phased as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"I'm sorry, love," he muttered into my ear. "I didn't realize your little friends were over."

I just sighed. "It's not your fault, Nik. I should've told them a long time ago. Don't worry, they'll be fine."

As one, our attention returned to my friends, who were now glaring at the two of us. I grimaced, but Nik seemed to enjoy the negative attention. He grinned and pulled me in closer to his side.

Bonnie looked on the verge of using magic again, and Caroline seemed about two seconds away from charging Nik to start a fist fight, so I gave his shoulder a squeeze and gently stepped away from him.

"Guys... I'm sorry. I should've told you a long time ago, and I shouldn't have put you in a situation to find out like this."

"Or, how about you shouldn't be dating the guy who tried to kill us all in the first place!" Caroline shouted, unable to contain herself anymore. I grimaced, but didn't step any further away from Nik.

"That's... a fair reaction. But seriously, I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been. And it's not like he's trying to kill any of us anymore-"

"At least not right now," chorused Nik and Bonnie in sync, with two very different tones to their words. Bonnie fixed him with a fierce glare, and I winced.

"Okay, maybe we should all sit down and talk," I said. "Or the four of us can talk, and I can ask Nik to come back later-"

"No way," said Caroline, raising her hands and taking a few steps back as she shook her head. "If he's staying, I'm not."

"Caroline-"

"I need a walk."

With that, she turned and vamp sped out of the house. With a look at me, Elena followed her. Bonnie started drifting in that direction, too, but she paused first, with a scowl at Nik before giving me a slightly less hostile look.

"I'm glad you're happy. Really, I am. But you might want to consider the cost that happiness is coming with."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I sighed the minute she was out of sight, slouching against the corner and sighing. That could've gone much, much better.

"They took that better than expected," mused Nik from beside me. I groaned, and I heard him huff a laugh.

When I straightened up and met his eyes, however, I noticed the slightly guarded expression behind his eyes. It had taken a lot of work to get good at reading Nik, and I still couldn't do it with 100% accuracy. But even so, I knew he wasn't nearly as calm and unaffected as he looked right now.

I sighed. My friends weren't the only people I needed to have a serious conversation with.

"Nik..." I started, taking his hand and settling into one of the stools at the kitchen counter. I pulled him onto the one next to mine, scooting closer until our knees were pressed together and I could keep him close for this conversation. "I'm sorry. I should've told them a long, long time ago. And I want you to know... I didn't tell them because I didn't want to deal with the reaction I knew they'd have. Not because of anything to do with you."

Nik's eyes flickered, scanning my face. I gave his hand a squeeze, but I could tell we weren't out of the woods yet.

"Isn't their reaction everything to do with me?" he asked, his voice low and serious. I recognized the edged glint in his eye as something that usually spelled trouble. I sighed.

"Their reaction is because they don't like you, yes. But my decision not to tell them had nothing to do with you. I would've been just as hesitant to tell them I was dating a guy they didn't like in our class at Mystic Falls. But with you... I should've told them earlier."

"And why's that? You wish they hadn't found me in your kitchen? Wish you could've told them while I was a few states away, so no one would have to face the reality of the two of us being together?"

"No, Nik. I mean, yes, I wish they'd found out differently than this. But I should've told them earlier because... because I have serious feelings for you. And they're serious enough that I don't want to hide them or you. Ever."

Nik raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth lifting up in the faintest hint of a smile. I smiled too, recognizing the shift in his mood.

"And what, exactly, might these 'serious feelings' be?"

His tone was mostly teasing, but I decided to take it seriously. I took his other hand, then pulled both into my lap, holding them tight. I met his eyes, making sure he understood just how much I meant my words.

"I love you, Nik. I've been feeling that way for a while now. I'm honestly happier than I've ever been, and you're a big part of that. I love my friends, and I know they'll come around eventually, but until they do? That's their problem. You mean the world to me, and... I mean, yeah, like I said. I love you."

A smile had been growing on Nik's face, and by the time I finished, it was a full-on grin that I only got to see from him every once in a while. He pulled me closer, off of my stool until I stood between his legs, chest to chest with him.

"You love me, do you?"

"Yeah." I nodded, my heart beating out of my chest in my rib cage. I felt pretty confident that Nik returned my feelings, but that didn't take away any of the nerves. "Can't you tell? You're supposed to be able to hear heart rates, aren't you?"

Nik chuckled, pulling me even closer to him for a kiss. I melted against him, happy to feel him smiling against my mouth as his arms wound around my waist. After a few breathless moments, Nik pulled back just enough to speak.

"I love you too," he said, his voice low and his breath fanning against my lips. "Don't worry for a moment that I don't. I would do anything for you. And it's a bit ridiculous how much I mean that."

I smiled, closing the distance between us again as I kissed him.

"I'm glad you came to visit me," I whispered when we paused just long enough to take a breath. "I'm glad my friends know. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad you know I love you."

"I agree with all of the above," Nik said with a smirk. "And I'm glad your friends are gone, and that we have the house to ourselves."

Nik leaned forward to deepen the kiss, but I leaned back. I put one hand on his chest and grimaced. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem, love?"

"...I may or may not have a paper to finish. Tonight."

"Are you sure it has to be done tonight?" asked Nik, his voice low and silky smooth as he ran a hand over my hip. I just sighed.

"Yeah, babe, I'm sure. But... if you can help me get it done, then I'm all yours for the rest of the night."

Nik pulled back quickly, looking at me with one eyebrow raised and an eager expression on his face. I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a smile at his 180 degree mood shift.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get that paper finished, love. I've got quite a few ideas for tonight."

I just laughed as I followed Nik into the living room. I had a feeling we were in for a rough ride the rest of this spring break dealing with my friends. But I really did love Nik. I was happy with him, and if we could find a way to stay together in our own little bubble of bliss despite the crazy supernatural shenanigans in New Orleans, I knew we'd be able to figure it out in Mystic Falls, too.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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coconutdays · 1 year ago

Text

study week!

s. your boyfriend deserves some special treatment after working so hard and you think you know the best way to treat him, you think

w.c. 4.9k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this was halfway written in my drafts and I know I haven't posted him in a while, so I thought id treat my girlies for what they fell for me for in the first place and finish it

it's midterms week and as difficult as it's been for your dear boyfriend suguru, you can't stop yourself from being a bit of an obstacle for him yourself.

he's waiting for you outside of your french studies lecture in the morning when you can see his slightly tired eyes rake across the cleavage bared by your low-cut blouse. then to the short mini-skirt and pantyhose lining your legs. and your lips, you're wearing his favorite lipgloss, the one that always has him pushing you onto your knees and sucking him dry.

"hey baby." he smiles a little, taking the almost too large water bottle from your hands and reaching down to hold one of your hands while you walked, "you look beautiful."

"hi," you snuggle into his arm, hoping he didn't see the slight quirk of your lips at his obvious stare just a few seconds ago, "did you study as much as you wanted this morning?"

suguru nods, thumb caressing your hand as he sighs, "yes, although I do wish I could've finished earlier and had more time to get ahead on that project."

that project. the one that had been taking up most of the time for the past two weeks, more so this one right before his exam and presentation came up for his Japanese architecture class.

it had been only last semester the two of you started dating after the close to masterful planning of satoru gojo that led to your hookup with the charming brunette on halloween night. you had no other classes together when the spring semester came around and you both obviously missed it at times like these, when the added ninety minutes of just getting to even be together in lecture and spare time of studying the class material together could've more easily satiated the want of each other's presence

this semester he had Japanese architecture and although the class was fairly easy, he had to work on a hefty group presentation that took up over thirty percent of his grade, and he being the ever meticulous student, was doing everything in his power to make sure he would get his A+, which meant being taken prisoner by his assigned group in the library to piece together the presentation most days. and when he wasn't, he was studying for his other classes and making the most of any interaction he could with you, be it by texting, FaceTime, or getting a quick dessert at the cafe near the school campus with you.

but not sex.

"'m sorry. that sucks," you pout for him, peering up at him through your eyelashes purposefully, "wish I could make it a solo project, so you wouldn't have to rely on other people for your grade."

suguru spares you a small glance before tiredly looking you and shining his warm smile down at you, "well it's already too late for the professor to change his mind, so I'll bear it through."

suguru tears his gaze away from you so he can guide the both of you across the street to the previously mentioned cafe. when you make it across the street and continue walking to the ever growing close cafe, your boyfriend strikes another topic.

"how was class though? did you get the material?"

you nod your head eagerly and upon realizing he can't see you do it because of his guiding, you voice, "yea! it was relatively easy, shouldn't take me more than an hour or two to brush up on what I need for the test."

"good." he hums, opening the door for you to the cafe, never letting go of your hand, "and your other classes?"

and there came the reason as to why you felt so free to mess around with him in the first place. you barely even had midterms, luckily enough this time around. you only had your French midterm and the studying barely even counted as something to be stressed about when it was just like overlooking the normal homework being assigned in the class. and your other classes...well it was pure luck that your professors didn't care to give one and if they did, they instead spread them around to conveniently happen before and after midterms like any other normal test. god knows you're happy they didn't pile up into one week like they did for your boyfriend, his poor poor soul. a poor soul so restricted by his other responsibilities during this short time span that you just wanted to tease him for all he's got.

"I already started my study review for my international business relations class yesterday, so I'll be fine when the test comes around next month." you beam proudly, grateful that the university gods had been kind to you and to yourself for staying on track to your planner.

"good girl" suguru's eyes crease when he gets in line to order with you and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it. the action is mindless, just like his response, it was natural for him to praise you. and considering his avoidance of your sex life ever since those cruel cruel cruel classmates of his started dragging him into the study rooms of the library as of last week, it was purely innocent, with no intention of riling you up.

but it did.

and you can't help but think of the last time you and suguru had sex, the exact morning of the day he had received the news from his professor that he would have to group up with other people for a good grade.

he had eaten you out for close to an hour because he felt like it. it was slow and sensual the entire time, he never listened to your pleas to go faster, telling you to take it like he knows his good girl would, and although it wasn't the cruel speed you begged for most of the time, it still brought you over the edge in a many pleasing and toe curling way.

the thought had you blushing at the fact the person you held those memories with was right next you, being domestic, and leading you to an empty booth while he carried your desserts in a bag.

craving the touch of your boyfriend, you refuse to sit across from him, and squeeze yourself next to him in the booth, the action makes him caress your thigh warmly before he sets out napkins and puts each of your preferred sweets on their respective places.

you're halfway through your dessert when you push yourself onto suguru and pout, "I miss you sugu."

he places a firm yet soft hand on top of your head to caress it, "I miss you too. I'll be all yours tomorrow."

"what?" he wasn't supposed to be free until three days time

"my group decided they wanted to turn in the project today to get it over with, which I'm up for by all means. and my calculus professor felt merciful last night. he gave passes for the midterms to the students with no late assignments and As."

you try your best to hide the devious excitement in your eyes and instead smile endearingly, "that's so good! we can go eat at that viet restaurant I dmed you."

suguru takes your non pastry sticky hand and brings it onto his lap as he gazes into your eyes, "I'd rather cook for you tomorrow."

your curiosity overtakes your predatory instinct and you bat your lashes at him when you ask, "what are you thinking of making?"

"risotto,"he hums, before he leans forward a bit and kisses the corner of your mouth. when he pulls back he smirks a little at the flustered look on your face.

"you had some strawberry filling." he points out before placing another kiss at the top of your head, rubbing a tentative hand at the back of your head in doing so, "let's finish the pastries so I can buy you a matcha latte before my class."

and just like that, he had made your resolve weaken, yet again, like always, your intent on seducing him forgotten for the meantime due to his proficiency at making your mind a puddle.

you find yourself in the library, hours later in the afternoon, studying with your friend at the same time suguru is meeting with his group.

and...soooooo conveniently sitting at a desk right in front of the glass door of one of the library's large group session cubicles, that just so happens to be hosting your boyfriend and his classmates.

your luck worked out perfectly and you thanked whatever mightier being there was when you saw suguru seated at the far end of the table with no one in front of him, allowing him the perfect view of you from across those few feet and glass door.

you see his eyes light up as he tries to listen to whatever one of his groupmates is saying while sharing a loving look with you.

perfect.

suguru

are you going to study pretty?

by the time you see the message from him, he has his arms folded over each other as he speaks to the other people in the room. god you wish you could hear him speaking right now. he was 100% giving some sort of smart nerd dialect input and you did everything in your power not to remember the time he tutored you in a class he had already taken last semester, using that same voice.

that time,

you had asked for a prize if you got all his questions correct

and he had been more than happy to give when you did

the specifics of which you didn't let yourself fret on more when you typed away to answer him

y/n

mhm I need to practice a speech for french.

and you left your phone on the desk with the screen facing down as you continued to your studies, conniving your next plan of action as you typed away at your computer.

about thirty minutes had passed when suguru was finally allowed a moment of peace, a moment of tranquility from having to explain a million times why comic sans was not the most ideal font to use.

and he was going to reach for his phone, to see what you had answered–he felt the buzz in his pocket–but couldn't look due to his previous debate with his classmates, when he spotted a quite inviting sight.

where you had been sitting basically face to face with suguru, with your friend next you, now you had your back to him as you practiced your speech in front of your friend.

it wasn't really useful, she didn't understand, it was more so to have someone to make eye contact with.

well more so,

an excuse to stand up and bend over a little every once a while so your skirt rode up just the right amount.

you bent over when you hand your phone to your friend to time you, you bent over to get a quick look at your computer, your speech written on it. you bent over to type something quick, a meaningless note, but a meaningful excuse for you.

you're not flashing him outright, of course, there was still a possibility of any one of his group mates accidentally getting a glance of whatever you rescinded to your boyfriend in these minutes; but you are teasing him. he loves these skirts on you. he's especially a bigger fan of the pantyhose, considering this was the only surviving pair you could find. so you know that he's letting his memory and imagination undress the sight before him as well as entice him.

you're glad you didn't unlock your phone when you gave it to your friend to time you, choosing to slide up for the clock on the lock screen, when after an hour of perfecting the speech you didn't need until two weeks time, she says, "geto texted you by the way, a couple minutes ago."

you take your phone from her as you go to sit down, facing suguru again for the first time in an hour, and you don't know if he's resorted to playing your mind games too, but the sight is knee buckling.

he's got his hair in that half up, half down combo that never fails to make you ravenous. and he's biting his cheek as he listens yet again to whoever and looks down at his computer screen every once in a while.

why did he always look so unaffected by everything, god.

you force yourself to look at the messages he sent you earlier

suguru

try your speech on me when you get the chance, okay?

how long are you going to be here? do you want me to take you home after we finish the project?

y/n

I'll make it my first priority! and I'm about to leave :/ I still have to do a quiz at home with my camera on in about two hours, wanna get it done before the hour mark.

you get up seconds after sending the text to suguru to put your belongings away. the task was easy considering you didn’t take much out of your bag. and when you started to close it, you felt a firm and soft hand tugging you towards them.

suguru was in front of you now, sitting at the edge of your desk, tugging you close to him so you stood between his legs, which were unavoidably manspreading for you.

“five at my place tomorrow?” he’s softly quirking an eyebrow at you in question, holding both of your hands close to him

“I’ll be there,” you nod

he smiles at you in response, then juts his chin a little in the direction of your friend behind you–mindlessly scrolling through her phone as she waits for your conversation with your boyfriend to end–and asks, “are you getting a ride? I don’t like the idea of you walking by yourself, especially when it’s so close to sundown.”

you have to resist the way his protectiveness of you makes your skin crawl and want to jump onto him and force yourself to nod, “yea. she’s dropping me off after this. i need to give her one of the books we read for lit last semester anyways, she needs it for a class.”

“alright then.” suguru pulls both of your hands to his lips and gives a kiss to each one before getting up. he stands tall before you like he always does. “text me when you get home.”

“I will,” you say as he raises his hands to hold both sides of your face to pull you into a kiss. he keeps it calm and fluttering, so the most you can manage to retrieve out of him is a slight sharp inhale when your tongue softly grazes his lower lip.

he still has his hands on your face when he places a small kiss at the top of your forehead and mutters, “i love you.”

“I love you too.” you say back, basking in his touch, knowing it’ll be close to a full day before you can see him like this again.

y/n

Im homeeeeeeee!

finished the quiz too, wasn’t as hard as i thought it would be

suguru

nice job baby

have you eaten yet?

y/n

im making a fruit salad :p have a sweet tooth right now

are you done with the project???

suguru

thankfully, yes. It was getting very difficult to see everyone use comic sans by default today. all i have to do is study for the test now, i can do that on my own without worrying about them.

ill make a peach cobbler for you tomorrow, for your sweet tooth

y/n

aw for lil ol me??

suguru

yes for lil ol you miss coy

ill text you in a bit, im going home

your conversation continued when suguru got home, minimally if any, knowing youd talk on the phone before one of you headed to bed later that night. he did have to study after and so did you. which was why you saved your seductive attempts for until then.

“I liked your outfit today baby. It was cute,” you could hear your boyfriend repeatedly tossing a small stress ball up into his ceiling faintly. he was in bed already just as you were.

the comment made your ears perk up, “you did?”

“yeah, i didn’t know there was still a pair of pantyhose left.”

“I didn’t either,” you sheepishly admitted, “i found it in the back of my drawer on saturday and thought id wear it.”

“wear them tomorrow, “ suguru added casually

“okay, ill–”

“don’t wear panties either.”

your eyes widened a little, “but your bike–”

“what about my bike?”

he was picking you up tomorrow on his bike, like he always did. and you had to sit on his bike, on that leather seat with the incoming wind, your skirt, the pantyhose, no underwear…

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“we are, im making the risotto and peach cobbler for us,” he still sounds like he’s discussing any casual dinner arrangement, “don’t wear panties under the pantyhose.”

“why are you making those demands anyway,” you try to poke at him, as if you didn’t want to do that for him, to see if you could rile him up like you still wanted to these last two weeks, “you haven’t been horny for two weeks.”

“did i tell you i wasn’t?”

the authoritative question had you rubbing your thighs against each other, “no…but you weren’t acting that way either.”

“like you?”

even on the phone it was hard to escape him, and he made it oh so delicious, even if it did always intimidate you.

“Is it so wrong to want you,” the pout in your voice clear

“no,” suguru comforts, “not at all.”

then, just as he knows he has you on an intense precipice in the conversation, he begins to end the call.

“sleep well pretty,” you can hear the love for you he has through it, as if he wasn’t just backing you into a corner seconds ago, “we’ve had a long day, and i need to get up a bit earlier than usual to get some groceries before i head to the gym.”

“sleep well too,” you huff and you can hear suguru’s laugh

“I love you beautiful."

“I love you too.”

suguru acts like a saint when he picks you up, like he's completely unaware to the fact that you're wearing pantyhose with no panties under your skirt, even though he asked for it.

"hey beautiful," he smiles when he leans down to peck your lips, "you ready to go?"

"yeah," you breathe, genuinely excited to spend time with your boyfriend for the first time in two weeks, uninterrupted

you arrived to your boyfriend's apartment with the most drenched pantyhose known to man. and you were too scared to see if any of your slick left a trail on his motorcycle. and although there was a certain buildup...down there...this had to be considered some sort of psychological torture.

because suguru had not made a sexual move on you the entire dinner, even through dessert.

nothing.

so here you were, stuck making casual conversation with your boyfriend, pussy basically exposed, and paranoid about his next move.

"satoru should not be eating that many macaroons a day. I know he loves them, but that's got to be some sort of crime." you discuss while taking a sip of your wine, "there has to be some economic surplus and deficit issue going on there."

"babe, you've had macaroon mukkbangs with him in front of me."

you pucker your lips in response to your boyfriend's unwavering ability to bring the facts right to your face.

"okay, but he does it way more often than me. consider that. I have to train for a whole month to do that. satoru does it back to back."

"there is that," suguru agrees, eyes flickering to the plate that had just been served with a slice of peach cobbler minutes ago, "and I take it you liked the peach cobbler."

"yes!" you nod eagerly, planting an excited fist on the dining table, "I love that my boyfriend is such a good chef."

"and I love that my girlfriend eats well," suguru responds warmly as he gets up and picks up both of your plates, placing them in the dishwasher before saying, "I'm glad you liked it though. I love watching you enjoy what I make."

suguru then takes your hand, while you're seated, and places a fleeting kiss on the back of it.

"let's go to the bedroom."

god, he just says that and you're ruining the pantyhose even more now.

"okay," you nod, getting up and letting him lead the way to his room.

he doesn't say much during the quick few steps until he opens the door and shuts it behind him.

"you're not wearing panties, right, sweet girl?"

you turn around to look at him, shaking your head earnestly, "no sir."

he walks up to you and takes your head in his palm affectionally, brushing a careful thumb across your cheek while he looks at you lovingly, "good."

"get on your knees then baby."

immediately you're sinking onto the ground and suguru is unbuckling his belt for you, already pulling out his rock hard cock.

on instinct, you open your mouth and suguru takes the invitation without hesitation, popping the tip of his dick against the inside of your cheek again and again.

"those pantyhose must be ruined beyond repair right now, aren't they?"

"mhm" you nod as best you can considering what he's using your mouth for.

"god, I can't wait to rip a hole in them." he hisses while he starts to slide his shaft up and down in your mouth.

its your queue to start sucking him off like you know how to. you hollow your cheeks and let all the spit build up in your mouth, even if it does start to run down your mouth and onto your chest and the floor. every time he nearly pulls out, you swirl your tongue around the underside of his swollen head, and you love the way his hips jut up just a bit at the action.

suguru's let you take the reigns now, instead placing a loving hand on the side of your head and making sure your hair doesn't get in your face.

"missed this pretty face getting messy for my cock." he breathes, grip growing by just a smidge on your hair, "missed it so much. couldn't even fuck your face to get my stress out baby."

he sees the excitement simmer in your eyes and suguru leans over a bit, "what do you say sweet girl, want me to fuck your little throat?"

you nod feverishly, suckling on his tip to show enthusiasm.

suguru gives you a small smile in return while he pinches your cheek affectionately.

"good girl."

he starts to move your head up and down his length at a leisurely place, something not too drastic, where you can feel and taste him coherently

until he suddenly speeds up the pace unforgivingly

"there, there, "he groans almost, staring at your face, "fuck, you're such a filthy girl. what'd I do to get such a pretty slut like you?"

the vulgar praise makes you moan, and the vibrations from your throat make him react the same way

"if I weren't saving my cum for my pussy right now baby, I'd fill your mouth again and again until you're practically spilling." he utters, still jack hammering into your mouth and you're doing everything you can to not let yourself gag,

"you like helping me destress beautiful?" he says desperately, cheeks growing a tinge red as he locks eyes with you

suguru's hips give a warning stutter when you nod, and he suddenly pulls out, and brings you up by an arm, turning you around so he can yank your skirt down.

"fuck." is all that leaves his lips darkly before he helps you take your shirt off and pushes you towards the bed.

"all fours baby, near the edge, wanna get a good fucking view of that pussy."

"o-okay," you say, already ruined by his previous indulgence and in anticipation of what was to come.

you get on all fours immediately and without a moment's waste, suguru's already running a greedy hand up your soaked folds, practically stuck to the pantyhose

"fuck, you're going to kill me. thought I was gonna go insane yesterday."

slap!

suguru lands a painful strike on your pussy

"it's not nice to tease your boyfriend when he's working so hard for you sweetheart. almost lost my mind trying not to think about all the things I wanted to do to you on that library table."

then there's a loud tear, and suguru runs his tongue flat against your exposed folds without hesitation

he starts to literally makeout with your pussy, treating it the way he wants. as if your lips down there could respond to his own. it's all for his own pleasure, none of yours, and you don't mind, turned on way more by the fact that he's using your body in such a depraved way.

and so, because you figure tonight is all about him taking out his stress on you, suguru suddenly stops, and you can feel him sit down on the bed, dragging you to stand in front of him.

"sit on my dick baby," he says, turning you around to face your back towards him, hands gripping your waist.

"wait!" you start to whine for the first time tonight, "I can't do this one, it's too hard for me."

just as suguru was needy, you were needy too.

you wanted the easy relief of him pounding you from behind, with you on all fours. when you rode him him like this, bouncing up and down, it was such a trek. he was so big, even sitting on it was a great feat. and he poked your cervix so painfully every time you went back down like this.

"yeah you can," suguru praises, reaching a hand down to swipe his tip against your folds messily, using the other on your waist to bring you down a little, "you always end up loving how I fill you up when we do it like this sweet girl."

upset, but still eager to have him inside of you, you start to sink down onto him with a pout, unable to stop your mouth from dropping open at the delicious stretch he always gives you

"so fucking big." you whine when he's bottomed out and you feel like you can't breathe from how full he makes you feel

and maybe he was right, because when you pick your ass back up, the feeling of his dick passing through and massaging your pussy from the inside has you keening for more and you could care less about your cervix.

so now you're bouncing against him sporadically, having missed the feeling of him inside you for so long

"missed your dick so much sugu!" you whine, stabilizing your arms on his thighs, ignoring the burning in your legs

"oh my fucking god," he groans, landing a stinging spank on your ass, "I missed this wet little pussy so much too princess. fuck. keep going, dirty fucking girl. gonna buy a butt plug for you so you can wear it with this same little get up. look so fucking cute with a little bunny tail sticking out with this-fuck."

"mhm mhm."

"gonna be my bunny? since you're always looking for my dick? god, if I could keep you in bed all day just for me to fuck you I'd keep that pussy full to the brim."

"sug-sugu!"

"I know baby, I know," he groans, both hands now gripping your ass and pushing you back down again and again, "cum for me, I'll cum with you."

you feel your leg start to kick a little as a reaction to what's about to happen and suguru notices the small paralyzation overtaking your body as a result to the nearing bliss. so he sits up straight and hugs you tight, pummeling you from underneath

"ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod sugu sugu, im cumming im cumming!"

"cum for me baby," suguru says through each quick stroke, "oh my god I'm gonna fuck my load into this slutty fucking pussy. greedy fucking girl's milking it out of me."

and you feel suguru's cock spill inside of you in hard thrusts, giving you what you feel is one of the biggest loads ever, considering this is the first time the both of you have gone without sex with each other for more than two days.

suguru's still inside you when he pulls you onto the bed with him and reaches a hand down to massage your boob

"babe, you did cum a lot." you comment, feeling his load pool inside of you

"good," he breathes, "it'll look hot coming out of you with the pantyhose"

"...are you going to take a picture for your album"

"maybe"

#suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk suguru #suguru geto smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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vhstown · 7 months ago

Text

ain't no love; epilogue

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 5 / EPILOGUE

chapter summary: You and Miles share a few months of normalcy. And maybe something new, too.

content/warnings: depictions of miles (whipped) morales

word count: 1.5k

a/n: wahoo we did it guys thank u to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading LETS FREAKING GO MAN

"You sure it's five dollars?"

"Four dollars, ninety-nine," the man behind the counter replied, grinning until his eyes were barely visible behind his tinted glasses. "Completely positive, young man."

"Aight, sure. Here."

While Miles was sure the man had definitely stuck another price on top of the original one, he didn't really want to stay in this rickety old comic book store any longer. Miles' hand had gotten kind of sweaty from holding yours by now — not that he minded. It was totally fine that he was also sweaty everywhere else he had skin. When had he gotten this sweaty? He was done with puberty. He was a man. He was your… Uh…

"Are we going?"

Your voice broke his trail of thoughts as his eyes jump from the counter to you. Right. You'd agreed to go out with him. And at the end of this, if he would just stop sweating, maybe you'd go out with him again. And it wouldn't be to Marge's like the first thing he suggested when he was totally out of it before realising that probably wasn't the best place for a date.

"Miles?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. My bad."

He snatched up the comic book, the man's squinted eyes never leaving him. That head of silvery hair had once been closer to brown, maybe when comic books didn't go for five whole dollars. "NO REFUNDS. EVER." passed him by as he left the store, his hand still in yours, trying so hard to not move but also to get into a less sweaty position. This was the last comic book he'd ever buy, damn it.

It was coming to the start of spring, and that meant the day was a little more ideal for a date. Visions did like to run things a lot more intensely, but you'd finally managed to make it to your next break. The two of you had more time to spend together now that most exams were over, and you'd spent the whole of today going to places that Miles had wanted to show you for a while.

In-between that, there had been a lot of explaining too — to both you and Uncle Aaron. He'd told you everything from the start, even if piece by piece on lunch breaks, or texts, or late night phone calls that you somehow managed to pick up regardless of the time. He told you how he'd gotten into Visions, why he was "so good at math" it annoyed you. He told you what happened to his dad, who his uncle was, what his Prowler gig was. He told you about college, and about his mom. Thank God you and his mom got along. It had been pretty tense when she'd found out he'd tried to quit school.

Being back in Visions, Miles had also told you all about his new roommate, Ganke. Devising ways to get out of school was particularly annoying, with Ganke staying up all night to work on some thesis. Ultra-smart. Way too good at video games. Maybe a little better at physics than him. What type of high-schooler has a thesis to work on anyway? He didn't mind the guy, though. It was nice to kick back and play games with someone again.

The most recent thing he'd told you, however, had been rather short. One word and one action he'd decided on in a split second while you were working on math homework together. He'd taken some… advice. Usually his uncle's advice would be good and thoughtful, but this little incident had been chipping away at his mind all week.

"Hey." That god-damned shoulder touch.

"…Hey yourself?"

The silence. It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.

"You gonna… ask me out now?"

"What?" His voice had shot up about nineteen octaves. The highest thing he'd ever heard.

"I mean, what is this?"

"I didn't say… Wait—"

"What?"

"Wait, wait, no— Yes—"

"Miles?"

"Can I take you out? Please?"

You laughed, and his face had gotten stuck. It was one of your cute laughs. No, every one of your laughs was cute. No, wait, yes—

"Hey, look, it's the superhero you like."

MIles turned to see what you're looking at, and nearly spins himself around 360 degrees in the process. Totally on purpose, because he was cool. Not because he was still sweating.

"Oh, yeah," he commented, squinting at the cosplayer. "Huh."

"There's tons of people dressed up…"

"Probably Comic-Con, or something."

You just nodded thoughtfully, looking around at all the cosplayers passing by. Maybe the Prowler thing would pay eventually, or he could get an actual part-time job. He could take you both.

Miles let out a sigh, before feeling your hand squeeze his.

"We've been out for a while." There you were again, the bustle of the city muffling behind the sound of your voice. There was a little smile on your face, and he found the corners of his mouth were trying to lift up without his knowledge. "You wanna go back to yours?"

And so he was back in his room. That walk had been way too short to think of ways to be cool. You'd been in here a few times by now, studying, playing video games, peeking at the figurines he'd put away to potentially sell. Reading the comics he liked, even if their price was starting to make him wince a little. You seemed to like it, though, even if his room was starting to become barren of things he might as well have grown out of by now.

"The food was good," you started, as the two of you settled down in his room.

"Hope that place stays open," he muttered, trying to reel in the sense of weariness in his voice.

"Why wouldn't they? It looks like they're doing well."

"Exactly. They get bought out as soon as they do."

"Oh."

Way to sour the mood, Morales. How is that even relevant?

"You're right, though," you contemplated, frowning a little. "It feels like everything's getting bought up recently. Even Vision's cafeteria changed companies."

"Eugh, don't remind me," he replied, rolling his shoulders to make a show. "That food is lethal."

"You'd think Visions of all places would have decent lunch."

"Exactly. At least they've still got vending machines." He couldn't believe he didn't know you could cheat them until you showed him. This vending machine business was lucrative.

"True."

Miles tried looking at you, but only got to looking at your knee. His heart stops when he feels your arm around him, and he finally meets your expression. That little gleam in your eye doesn't go unnoticed.

"Thanks for the date," you start.

"Anyti—" Your lips pressed against his cheek before he could finish.

Miles fought valiantly, but the grin that formed on his face fought harder.

"Did you uh… did you miss?" he muttered, without thinking. Did you miss…? Did I miss all fifteen years my mom raised me?!

"No…?" you replied, laughing awkwardly. God, he totally just bombed it. "Do you… want to?"

Okay, he didn't just totally bomb it. He had a chance. Did he even really wanna kiss you yet? No, yeah, he really did. Why can't I move?!

"I don't know how to… how to… you know."

He had only planned so far ahead. Miles had no idea how to kiss someone.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it."

He closed his eyes, feeling your hand give his a little squeeze, before he felt the faint brush of breath against his lips. And then he felt warmth. The taste of lip balm he'd let you borrow. He was kissing you.

Miles kept his eyes closed, but his hand had found the small of your back anyway, pulling you closer. The kiss had only lasted for a few moments, but when he finally opened his eyes, the world was a lot brighter than he remembered. Your smile was a lot brighter than he remembered. His face was a lot hotter than he remembered.

"The next one's on you," you murmured, simply. He could feel the words against his skin, tickling his face. You were insanely good-looking this close.

"Cool." His voice came out in a slightly breathless mumble.

His lips found yours again, and his eyes fell shut. He felt his shoulders relax. His heart had finally started to slow from its pounding. He wasn't sweating anymore.

And he was kissing you. You were his. He sure as hell was yours.

"Stay," he murmured against your mouth, his eyes on yours.

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Forever?" The two of your quiet laughs are muffled with another kiss.

"Yeah," Miles replied, as his hand went up to cup your cheek. "I got so much more to tell you."

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @kirishimasproteinpowder @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you so much for reading aint no love! could not appreciate all of the love (haha) on this series 💗💗💗 this was so crazy but so fun i never thought id be able to complete a longer thing of writing like this but here we are!

a big thank you to my friend chewy too who had to listen to me rant about this series at pretty unethical times of the day and also read through all my not so lovely drafts 🫡🫡🫡

if you have any questions about this universe or series or anything in general my inbox is open!

reblogs and replies are much appreciated as always, and you can find my atsv masterlist here!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #42!miles #miles g #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

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kumkaniudaku · 10 months ago

Text

Stay A While (BONUS)

Summary: A peak into the future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 1,865

Warnings: None. Fun fluff!

A/N: Sorry, y'all. I had some more left in the tank.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As a bright sun began to set over the Fayetteville horizon to transform the bright cerulean sky to one glowing with orange and purple hues, 22 young men huddled at the 50-yard line of Francis High School’s freshly lined football field. The wind lightly blew around them for a welcomed cool breeze while they ran through yet another play before their first playoff game of the season.

“Defense, we in man coverage. Offense, run a Go. We need to tighten up this late-game execution. How you gon’ react under pressure? Show me somethin’ boys!”

While the head coach rattled off instructions to the team, Terry stood nearby with his arms folded and eyes intently focused on the two wide receivers occupying the field. Cam and CT Wilson were tall and lean twin boys who reminded him of how he looked by senior year except they were sophomores with room to grow. He told them on day one that they were physical specimens with unreal speed and high IQ made for a few semesters at Clemson if they could focus through the head-spinning four years that made up their high school experience. He promised their father that he’d be there to guide them through it all save for a few months during Spring practices.

“Cam, you goin’ inside on this one. You remember the count,” he hollered out from the sideline.

“Locked in!”

Terry answered with a thumbs up and adjusted his stance for optimal comfort. The child-sized weight on his shoulders was starting to get heavy but he knew the tongue-lashing that awaited him if he dared to make a false move.

“He goes too slow. Make him count fast so he won’t drop, Daddy.”

The small voice from above made him look up for confirmation to find her already looking down at him with a scrunched nose and missing teeth that resembled her mother when she was that age.

“You sure?”

“Just watch.”

Together, they watched the play unfold. Terry counted along in his head to time when the ball should leave the quarterback’s hand in comparison to where Cameron should’ve been on the field. Sure enough, he was a step slow causing the quarterback to throw the ball slightly ahead of him for a bobbled pass.

“Hm,” he grunted more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll be damned. Aye, Cam, come here for a second!”

Above him, perched on her throne, Nyla Naomi Richmond rested a smart tablet on her father’s head to watch film from the previous game like she always did. Her mahogany skin was shiny under the bright white LED lights illuminating the field from her mother’s overzealous lotioning before they left home. Per her request, Terry had braided half of her hair back to give way to a collection of moisturized zigzag coils for first-grade picture day. Glasses rested at the tip of her nose with a bright yellow strap to keep them attached to her face. She kept her attention focused on the tablet’s screen, even as Cam jogged toward her and her father on the sideline.

“Yeah, Coach? I do something wrong.”

“Too slow,” Nyla answered without looking up. “Speed up. You’re like a turtle out there. We gotta win, man!”

Terry and Cameron chuckled together as Terry tapped the top of Cam’s helmet.

“A little quicker on the count, man. If you get there when you’re supposed to, that’s a catch all day. Make ‘em beat you. Don’t beat yourself.”

“Type shit. I got you, Coach.”

“Hey! Don’t say bad words.”

“My fault, Coach Ny. Can I do my pushups later?”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

Cam laughed at her dismissal before accepting a fist bump from Terry and rejoining the field. Terry couldn’t contain his smile as he reached up to tickle his firstborn's sides for that high-pitched giggle he loved so much.

“Be nice, MiMi. Remember the rule?” He craned his neck to look up at her for the lesson he’d been struggling to get through her head since she began joining practice.

She sighed dramatically and frowned. “Be hard on the work, not the person. I know, I know.”

“Be better next time, champ. We’re here to help, not hurt.”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir,” he repeated to mock her childish grumble. “You’re so mean like your mama. Gimme a kiss.”

Like she always did, Nyla lifted her daddy’s cap to kiss the crown of his head before placing the hat backward atop her own head.

From the day she first showed herself in a routine sonogram, Terry knew she’d be a firecracker. She refused to show her face to him and Patrice. She carefully concealed her features during an expensive 3D scan and almost hid her gender had they not caught her during an in-utero nap.

She came into the world kicking and screaming at a long 24 inches and a head clean as a whistle just like her pops. With Patrice, she was the perfect baby. She slept all night, cooed and babbled when spoken to, and grew into a little girl who loved to cuddle into her mommy while they watched Pixar movies on the weekends. With Terry, she was a hell-raiser. Loud and rambunctious with a love for NFL games on Sunday afternoons and playful wrestling on the living room rug.

Their smart girl had her hand in everything imaginable and, when they’d listen to other parents complain about the difficulty of raising young ones during playdates and birthday parties, they always came away feeling like they’d lucked out with Nyla.

Across the way, Patrice stepped onto the newly refinished running track with the cheerleading team for warm-ups. Under her school t-shirt, her belly protruded enough to tell anyone looking hard enough that she was expecting. Behind her, she pulled a cooler meant to supply the football team with cold water and snacks for the next day.

“Mrs. Richmond, you want me to help you? You always be actin’ like you Superwoman or somethin’.” her captain called out from behind her, jogging to catch up with Patrice’s long stride.

Patrice waved her off. “Nuh-uh. Y’all start stretching. I need to drop this off personally.”

“Uh-huh. You going to your little boyfriend. Being fast!”

“I learned from you, Z.”

“Not you in my business!”

Patrice’s loud laughter created an echo in the stadium, becoming a bat signal for Terry and Nyla’s attention.

“Hey, Mommy!”

Nyla rushed to hop off Terry’s shoulders like he was a jungle gym, unconcerned with any harm she inflicted with her long legs as she shimmied down his body. He winced in pain until she was safely on the ground before lightly trotting behind her to greet his wife.

Seven years of marriage hadn’t changed much of their love. They’d navigated the growing pains of newlywed life and parenthood to come out stronger on the other side. So much stronger that they’d neglected to follow through on contraceptives to keep their family of three from growing to a family of four. Their parents called a second pregnancy a blessing. And though they mostly felt the same, they also knew that baby number two was the result of too much booze and ignoring the cycle tracker during a kid-free night in Charlotte.

Patrice braced herself for impact once Nyla got closer and wrapped her body around her legs.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, rubbing circles at the center of her back. “You look so pretty. Did you finish your homework?”

“Mhm! I got 100 on my math test, too!”

“Alriiight! That’s my smart bestie. Now you gotta pick a place for dinner this weekend.”

“Can we get piz-”

“A place that is not buffet pizza again. Pick something else.” Terry interjected, making Nyla groan. Dad’s word was final whether she liked it or not. His eyes flickered to Patrice’s still for extra confirmation. Mom’s word was final final.

She offered a small smile while zhushing the back of Nyla’s hair. “Try something new, Naomi. Maybe chicken tenders this time?”

Nyla accepted her parents’ redirection with another dramatic sigh that made Terry and Patrice stifle laughter.

“I know, mama. It’s so hard being six years old. We can write a book about it tonight when we get home so you can help your little sister or brother when they get here.”

“I hope it’s a girl. Boys are boring.”

Neither of them could muster a response before Nyla abandoned them to supervise the cheerleaders as they started to run through cheers.

They waited in silence until she was out of earshot to face each other with equally broad smiles.

Terry spoke up first as he reached down to take the cooler’s handle from Patrice’s hand.

“Didn’t I tell you from the jump she’d be a second you?”

“Oh no, she’s a second DeeDee. She might have my mom’s middle name but she is your mama through and through.”

“Touché.” Terry chuckled. That’s why the duo got along so well. They were twin flames in more ways than one.

A lull in the conversation made Patrice subconsciously bring her hand up to her stomach for a soft rub. Terry looked on with a fond smile, proud of the way her wedding ring reflected the light back into the night sky like a star on the ground.

He pushed the cooler to the side and grabbed her free hand to pull her into a side hug. He kissed her temple several times over, making Patrice giggle like a schoolgirl at the sensation.

“We make a cute kid, don’t we?”

Patrice hummed and closed her eyes for a brief second to feel the full press of his chest on her body and his arms squeezing a little tighter than before. “So cute. She talks too much, but that’s okay.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?”

“Her damn daddy.”

The vibration from Terry’s deep baritone encased in laughter tingled against Patrice’s arm to cover her in warmth from head to toe. A whistle and call of his name from the field snapped both of them from their semi-private moment, making them reluctantly pull away.

Terry leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips as a parting gift before slyly sneaking the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She playfully pushed him to save them from the embarrassment of taking it too far in public.

“C’mon, MiMi, we not done yet.” Patrice watched Nylah quickly ditch her squad to meet her daddy’s outstretched arms for him to place her back on his shoulders and rejoin the team. He called back over his shoulder for her attention. “I love you, baby! Go get off your feet!”

“Sit down, Mommy!”

“Yeah, sit down, Mrs. Richmond!”

Patrice wore a semi-serious scowl on her face and threw her hands up to stop the barrage of demands.

“Woah, woah, woah! I am grown,” she hollered back to everyone in the area. She began the slow journey toward her team and clapped her hands. “Just for that, let me see that Hot To Go routine. If you mess up, you owe me a lap.”

A collection of teenage girl groans made Patrice crack a smile.

Maybe Terry was right.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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thoughtsfromlayla · 18 days ago

Text

26 Ways of Taking You: M for Muzzle

Summary: The rules for the internship were easy. Follow your leader around, learn as much as you can, and clean up after the scientists. But why is there a naked guy in the cage?

Notes: ~ 4.7k words, I wanted to post this for my birthday yesterday but then my friends made me go to dinner (it was really nice, thank you bubbas)

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, dubious consent, porn with plot, human experimentation AU?/Morpheus? IDK it came to me in a dream after I binged marvel movies, P in V intercourse, unprotected intercourse, Morpheus has a biting problem, did I cringe while writing this? Yes, but am I free? Yes.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

L for Lactation ⇆ N for Neighbor

“I’m going to throw up,” you gag, phone shaking in your hand as if it just delivered a death sentence.

“Why?” Your roommate replies, barely looking up from their laptop. Her fingers typing away—clickedy-clackity.

A soft breeze of spring wafts through the grated dorm room window. It still smelled of the freshly campus planted flowers and mowed grass, though each day proved to grow more humid and hot. The promise of summer is just around the corner bend, hidden behind bars of final exams and papers.

When you interviewed for the internship position, you didn’t think the recruiter was all that impressed with you. The way her face barely moved from her flat expression to the way she almost glared at you over her wire-framed glasses, you had already assumed she threw your resume into the trash as soon as you left that stuffy office room. But now, you’re rereading the acceptance letter word-for-word: Congratulations!

“Why?” Your roommate repeats, finally tearing her eyes away from her screen.

You reread the letter out loud this time, catching her up to speed. She gives a gasp, clapping her hands excitedly about your new position and promptly goes to the fridge where the cheapest wine a University student can afford lies.

“No, I need to take a shit…” you mumble, rereading the letter again.

“I told you not to eat that sketchy ass leftover Taco Bell,” they chide, pouring two cups.

“It’s not the Taco Bell.” Your stomach gurgles as your bowels decided now would be the best time to release itself in a series of anxiety poops. “I… I got in?”

“Well, of course you got in!” She smiles. “You have a perfect GPA, studying Biomutational Engineering as the youngest student to get accepted into said degree, and you practiced the hell out of those interview questions.”

Even with your friend’s reassurance, anxiety still fills your gut. Five minutes later, you’re sitting on the toilet, somehow managing a professional reply to the letter while anxiety poops ransack the bathroom. At least the sickly-sweet smell of “Shiny Moon” bathroom spray covered up that disastrous mess.

One hurdle of tests after the other, you spend the last few weeks of the semester acing finals and turning in papers while slowly packing your things to move to the internship house provided. The internship took place a few towns over, and it takes a few car drives on weekends to fully move into the small house.

The time between your full acceptance and when you’d start your internship was a whole load of… nothing. Too long to commit to anything, too short to relax. What you do manage to do for the five days before your start day is explore the company grounds, where the house is nestled.

It’s almost picture perfect. A small cottage with wooden shingles and red shutters against creamy white paint. There must be a ground’s keeper since flowers bloomed in the garden up front, and a sparkling lake was just off in the distance.

The only reason it isn’t all that perfect is the giant manor that takes up most of the grounds. It’s within walking distance, so you assume it’d be fine to walk to work every day. But it’s clearly an old house that was transferred into a laboratory. Steam comes from the several chimneys and there’s a more modern addition on the west wing.

No matter. You’re here to learn and more importantly, do your best. It wouldn’t matter if you were learning out of a shed with a broken window.

By June 1st, in your business casual clothing and dirtied Chuck Norris’, you arrive at Building T 10 minutes early. You’re not entirely sure why it’s called Building T, if all of the sections were technically all in one building. But, whatever, the thought vanishes when an old woman in a white coat starts walking up to you with a smile and a clipboard.

You return it with a nervous smile of your own, your employment papers dampening with sweat from your palms.

“You must be my new intern!” She beams happily, taking the papers away from you. “I’m Dr. Krystal, the lab leader.”

“Hi.” You shake her hand in a polite greeting.

Dr. Kystral swipes you two in with a badge. Building T took place in one of the older sections of the manor, near the east side. The building kept most of its antiquities—wooden beams and floors, ornate gold framed pictures and whatnots. Small bits and pieces of modern technology are scattered throughout the place. Most of them are card readers and updated sliding doors that give off whoosing noises when they open.

“This is the common area. A lot of the scientists take lunch here or type up reports. It’s better lighting and ambience,” Dr. Krystal explains. “Each door leads to different fully equipped labs, but you only need to worry about this one.”

She leads you to another sliding door, a card reader waiting for her to swipe her badge. “This is our lab, the biomutational lab,” she swipes the badge and a conformation ding rings out before the heavy door slides open.

The difference is day and night. On one side, a classical, almost dark academia vibe. The other side resides the blinding white of cleanliness that comes with science. The smell of alcoholic wipes dries your throat before you even take the first step past the threshold.

“Hey Barry,” Dr. Krystal greets. “This is my new intern for the summer. Y/N, this is Barry, the receptionist and guard.”

“Guard?” You question, but still shaking his hand in greeting. It was covered in Cheeto dust.

“Sometimes, the other interns get lost and just in general the research foundation holds many dangerous things, so guards are posted almost everywhere. Don’t worry, you get used to them.” Dr. Krystal continues down the hallway. “You’ll be seeing Barry more, he does the afternoon shifts from 1:00 PM to 12:00 AM. The other guard, Allen, takes over from 12:00 to 1:00.”

The hallway descends down some stairs, reflective tape blinking at you from the extensive white lighting that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

“Welcome to the Biomutational Lab,” she says with a flourishing hand.

The walls are the same brightening shade of blinding white though the countertops were black. Bunsen burners are going, flames burning blue, as they heat up random elements in various sizes of volumetric flasks. Computers are left unlocked with reports of mutational projects that you don’t get the chance to read, nor did you want to as Dr. Kystral starts giving a tour of her lab.

She talks about the encased specimen, the different genome splicers, microscopes, centrifuges, incubators—it all makes your scientific heart explode with happiness. It is clear that the owner of the research foundation, a Mr. Rodrick Burgess if your own company research was correct, spared no expenses when it came to his laboratories.

“I’m going to hand you over to Mrs. Brinkman to get your badge and things before I finish out the tour.” Dr. Krystal takes you back out of the lab and hands you over to a kind looking middle-aged woman. “Then we can talk about what you’ll be doing. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great, thank you!”

A quick “3, 2, 1,” and your picture is taken and printed onto an access badge with your own barcode. Mrs. Brinkman puts you officially into their systems and reminds you intently that you will have to return the badge to her before you leave for the summer. The last thing she has you do is sign a contract that prevents you from speaking about anything that occurs within the property. It is thick—about 40 pages of things you can’t talk about. To make everything feel official, she robes you in a white coat of your own, an INTERN label sewn across your breast pocket.

With a new pep in your step, you return to the biomutational lab. Dr. Krystal is typing away in front of some frosted glass that is guarded by yet another badge reader.

“Hey, welcome back,” she smiles at you, her fingers typing away even without looking at the screen. “Now that you have your badge, I can show you what’s on the other side of this.” She nods towards the frosted glass.

You stand by her side awkwardly as she types away. A few other scientists within her lab wave at you as they walk by, wheeling carts of their own experiments that they’re running. After a few moments, Dr. Krystal finally stands.

“Okay, this is the project that I am currently working on and the one you’ll be helping me with for the remainder of the summer. Go ahead and try your new badge.”

You swipe your new badge across the reader which beep a few times before the door opens.

“Perfect!” Dr. Krystal beams, ushering you inside.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting to see on the other side of the frosted glass. Maybe some more specimen, or at worst a nightmarish mutation of a bunny and a giraffe. But, no.

You tilt your head to the side, your ears picking up on various beeping noises from machines that you can’t see. Clearly they were all monitoring the glass cage that stood in the center of the room.

“This… is my latest creation. We call him: Morpheus.”

“Creation? Isn’t this just… a man?” You ask cautiously.

“Morpheus” watches you from his glass cage, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s completely bare, his limbs pulled in on himself to give himself any sense of privacy he can muster.

“By no means should you mistake him as a man. He is anything but,” Dr. Krsytal says. “Perhaps when we first started, though I have no recollection, nor do I care for his real name.”

As Dr. Krystal continues talking about her “passion project”, Morpheus never moves. His muscles taut like a greek statue, white as alabaster. Somewhere between her explaining his superior abilities of hypnosis and showing off the different applications monitoring him, you stop listening. Your eyes glaze over as it maintains eye contact with the man—or not man.

His black hair is disheveled, perhaps he isn’t permitted showers? And his eyes, the very ones that bore deep into your soul, felt like they have seen eons and eons of life itself. Galaxies might have been formed and remembered in that gaze, so silent and ancient.

When you took on this internship, you thought the company did research on mundane things, like how to get an apple juicer by genomically splicing it with a different species of apples. You did not think they were doing human experimentation, and suddenly the contract and Mrs. Brinkman’s warnings and rules started to make sense.

“Anyways, those are your responsibilities, got it?” Dr. Krystal’s question brings you back to the present.

“Um, yeah,” you murmur, finding the strength to tear your eyes away from Morpheus’. “Clean his cage when I come in, give him his meal, towel wash him,” you list off.

The Doctor nods, approving. “Yup, it’s not that difficult. Oh… right. Morpheus has been known to bite people so, you will have to muzzle him before you do anything.”

“I have to what?” You emphasize with wide eyes.

“Let’s see here…” Dr. Krystal has already wandered off and you’re duty bound to follow her. She pushes a few things aside before grabbing a basket-face muzzle.

Unlike a dog muzzle, it’s flat and meant to cover only the bottom portion of the face. Leather straps are wrapped around the frame to slide over the head to keep it in place.

She tosses the muzzle over to you and you struggle to catch it, still trying to come to terms with your new role.

“He’s compliant most of the time, so just slide it over his head when you get into the confinement area.”

“Um…”

“Anyway, that’s all I have for you today. There’s lunch in the cafeteria in Building B or you can go into town before heading back. I’ll see you tomorrow for your shift.” Dr. Krystal beams at you with a kind smile, though you’re starting to doubt how much of it is truly kind.

Human experimentation?

…

The next day comes after a fitful night of rest. Those eyes—you dreamt about those eyes—and the feeling of them watching you looms over your shoulder as you stomach down a breakfast. It follows as you walk to Building T, and it blinks slowly as you greet Morpheus again.

You have a metal tray of food in your hands you grabbed from the cafeteria. You’re not sure what he eats, just that Dr. Krystal told you to feed him every morning. With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and walk up to the yellow guard tape that separates you from his glass cage.

You’re about to open his door when the glint of the muzzle’s metal catches your eye.

Right.

The biting problem he has.

It’s awkward balancing the tray in one hand, the other one grabbing the muzzle, leather straps wrapping around your legs as you use your elbow to open up his cage door. Morpheus watches with a critical eye, squinting with confusion.

“Ohhhh…kay, so… for breakfast I got you an omelette from the cafeteria. It’s not poisoned, I ate the same thing this morning. And this muffin, in case you’re more of a sweet person for morning food,” you ramble awkwardly, placing the tray on the small table within the cage.

Morpheus doesn’t respond to you and it takes all of your willpower not to have your eyes wandering over his naked body. Dr. Krystal gives him food but not clothes? Maybe it’s for her experiment, or something akin to the monitors not picking up his vitals if he does wear clothes.

You hold the muzzle in your hand and look at it then at Morpheus, indicating your plans. He sighs, barely an audible exhale of breath as he relents and gives a curt nod.

“I’m so sorry, I know this is weird,” you continue as you slide the gear over his head. His eyes close, and the warmth you found within them leaves with it.

Despite what Dr. Krystal mentioned, Morpheus’ doesn’t fight you or make any indication that he is a danger to you. Though that may simply stem from the fact that you're not the one that pokes and prods at him for the pinnacle of scientific research.

As you go about tidying his cage—which isn’t much to clean anyway—your mind wanders to whether or not you should continue this internship. It pays well, much better than many internships in your immediate area, but is it worth your morals and ethics?

You look discreetly over your shoulder as you wipe down the glass cage with a cloth only to find Morpheus already staring at you. The rag falls from your hands and you mutter an apology before picking it back up and continuing where you left off.

They didn’t say “human experimentation” during the interview. Or maybe they did, but they hide it all too well behind HR words that made you think all they were doing biomedical and mutational research on were plants or rats.

Tossing the dirtied rag into the bucket, you debate just walking out the door and leaving forever. But you’ve already signed the NDA and you’ve already been put into their systems. And what are the chances of an intern such as yourself simply walking out the gates when there were guards stationed everywhere? Even if you leave, wouldn’t another intern take your place? One that didn’t care for Morpheus as kindly?

The questions follow you even as you grab a new bucket of hot water and a clean rag. The last thing on your list was to give him a small bath—as if your day could not get any more awkward.

“Hey, I’m going to wash you. I’ll start at your back and then we can go from there, okay?” You ask him even though you know he won’t say anything.

For the first few hours you’ve been in his cage, the most he’s done is exhale slightly too loudly when you almost tripped over your cleaning bucket, but other than that, he hasn’t moved from his sitting position.

His head turns as you sit behind him, dipping the new cloth in the hot bucket of soapy suds. Wringing out the towel, you then place it on his back, wiping away with a gentle hand. Moprhues slowly relaxes into your touch, slouching where he once was tense.

You continue down his back, the only sound between the two of you is the sound of your own breath and the subtle sound of the cloth running across his skin.

“Arms,” you whisper, to which he holds out his right arm.

The motion repeats with his left before you move yourself and the bucket to sit in front of him. An embarrassed blush blooms across your cheeks as you notice the… his…

You cough awkwardly, placing the cloth you were holding over his erection before grabbing a new one. You’re going to pretend like you didn’t just see that. But as your movements meticulously repeat themselves—dunk cloth in water, wring out water, begin washing his chest in circular motions—all you did was think about it. It was right there.

Worse yet, Morpheus begins to tense again as the cloth and your hand begins wandering down and a displeased noise starts to emit from his chest. Growling? A surprised yelp makes it past your lips when your hand dips between the junction of his pelvis and hip, his body surging forward and face coming down into your personal space. His teeth clack together as he tries to bite you, though the muzzle made it so only the metal brushed against your cheek instead.

Your bewildered expression earns a low chuckle from him, the most noise he’s made since you’ve met him all but two days ago.

“Okay, that’s all you get,” you grumble. “Perv.”

You drop your dirtied towel into the bucket, standing with it to leave his cage. Morpheus’ eyes follow you as you walk to his door, only to see you pause.

The door is wide open, he needs only to get up and leave and he’d finally be free of the experimentations. But, is it so bad of him to have a little bit more fun with this new intern? He watches as you turn your back to him, reaching to grab the breakfast tray he didn’t eat anything from. And then, he’s on you before you could blink.

The tray of food clatters to the ground as his body pushes you up against the glass wall of his cage. The muffin bounces harmlessly into a random corner. He doesn’t stop himself from pressing his muzzled face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling past the collar of your white coat.

Peaches and lab grade alcohol wipes.

It makes him want to bite you all the more.

“Security! Secur—” His hands come over your lips, hushing you pleas for backup.

His cock twitches, your screams did something for him and the small towel you placed over it falls to the ground with an unceremonious plop. His hands move under your shirt, feeling the softness and warmth of your abdomen under his fingers. And when he found no protest from you, they began to descend downward, much like how he was bathed just then.

As Morpheus’ fingers begin to tease the edge of your pants, you finally have the brilliant idea to bite him back. Your teeth snap closed around the meat of his palm, a hiss of pain following through from him.

“You dare?” He growls in your ear, voice muffled by the muzzle.

“You talk?” No, that’s the wrong thing to say. “Let me go! Hey—what are you—”

Morpheus, with his cocky smirk, removes his muzzle quite easily. You hadn’t placed it on him correctly to begin with when you first entered his cage that morning. The muzzle then slips over your own face, the tightening of the leather snatching a few pieces of your hair behind your head.

“Who has the biting problem now, hm?” He asks, voice husky and hypnotizing.

The deep timber swirls like a spell inside your ears and dulls your brain. Your breathing slows almost to the rate at which you’d find yourself in a deep sleep.

“There we go,” he continues to whisper softly.

With you pliant in his arms, his hands continue to roam downward with a predatory grace, eliciting a shuddering gasp as he finds the wet warm between your thighs. His erection presses firmly against your thighs as he drags his teeth across the length of your neck.

Morpheus’ fingers hook in your waistband before slowly pulling them down your legs. It’s awfully cold in the lab, goosebumps rising over your skin, but his hypnotic voice keeps the cold from waking you up from his spell.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

“Feel… good…” you merely repeat.

Your eyes flutter as his finger begins drawing tight circles around your aroused clit, eliciting more soft gasps and moans from your dry lips. You can feel him smile against the soft skin of your neck and a nip of his teeth catches you by surprise.

He keeps you under his control and pushes your legs further apart, bending you slightly so that your ass was presented to him. Morpheus takes a pause as your breathing begins to quicken.

“Hush. I will take good care of you this time,” he murmurs against your blushed ear. With a little more gentle touches, the tension releases itself from your muscles.

He can feel the need for release between his own legs, but one often finds a reward far more enticing the longer they wait for it. For a desert dweller will come to appreciate water the longer he is lost and wandering.

“Mmmm…” he hums as he slides his cock between your wet folds. It catches against your entrance, but he ignores it for now. To feel your arousal coat his length is all that he needs at this moment. He moves his hips, years of entrapment doing nothing to deter him from remembering how to attain his own pleasure. Each gentle thrust brushed against your clit, making your thighs clench and your fingers flex against the glass wall of his cage.

“What is wrong?” He mocks your silence. “Out of words to say? No questions this time?”

His only answer is a whimper as his hand palms a breast under your shirt. When the familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build at the base of his spine, he stops his hips. Morpheus has one place, and one place only, that he will cum in. And he sure won’t waste it by splattering it against the walls of his cage. Though the thought of you having to clean it up afterwards is enticing.

“Let me in,” he whispers again, his eyes swirling with the galaxies.

You see the reflections of them in the glass and your mind blurs with the haze of lust and his spell. A singular nod is all he needs from you before he spreads his pre-cum against your dripping entrance. Then with a groan of his own, he pushes himself in, inch by inch until the base of his cock bottoms out.

Morpheus’ hand comes around, one bracing himself against the glass of his cage but your own hand, and the other slides over your muzzled mouth. It proved useful when your first sob of pleasure is ripped from your lips as he pulls out and slams back in. The head of his cock brushing against a spot inside of you that has you clenching your thighs reflexively.

“No,” he growls slowly and uses his feet to push your legs apart again.

Morpheus pulls out nearly all the way again, watching how easily your slick arousal clings desperately to his length before he slams back into you, the effort shaking the glass of his cage. Your body slowly accepts him as he continues his primal movements. A slow breeze brushing away some of the fog that he placed in your brain.

Involuntarily, your hips push back to meet his brutal thrusts, finding pleasure in the act. You feel stretched but it never becomes overbearing. Simply enough to bring you to the edge of being uncomfortable, yet keeping you in a safe space of pleasure. Your inner walls flex around his girth, testing his size as it adapts to him.

“Yes, just like that. You’re perfect,” he praised in your ear. “Take it all.”

“Mmph!” You cry out, biting down on your lips. The muzzle muffles the sound further, making your own moans echo louder in your own head.

Morpheus’ teeth are back to your neck, sucking and nipping marks across the skin. His hips don’t stop moving, and finds itself harder and harder with each pass of his cock; your walls tighten around his length. His hand slides down from your muzzled jaw down to your throat, flexing teasing around the column. He places a constant pressure against your veins, but never pushes down hard enough. Just enough to keep you under his control.

“I will fill this pretty little pussy up,” he groans, his cock starting to swell.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp—the first coherent thought you’ve had since this whole interaction started.

He pulls out slightly before slamming himself to the cervix, holding himself there as his orgasm rips through him. His hips stutter as his hot seed plants itself inside of you. Your own climax crashes down upon you as his fingers bring you to the edge in quick motions against your engorged clit.

Your scream echoes around his glass cage, articulating your pleasure back into your ears. Morpheus’ ragged breathing tickles the back of your neck as he catches his breath. His cock is still buried inside, though it begins to soften some time later. His cage is a mess of condensation from your coupling and the fallen tray, but that is an issue for you another day.

He watches with dark eyes as the overflow of his ejaculation drips down your thighs when he pulls his softened cock out of your cunt. You’re still bracing yourself against the glass, your body shaking and still trying to comprehend what occurred in the past ten minutes. Morpheus pulls your pants back up. His fingers push a few stray drippings of his cum back where it belongs before he buttons them back up. The muzzle comes off next and he tosses it haphazardly onto the floor.

“Wake,” he commands simply, then snaps his fingers. The crisp sound breaks you out of your hypnosis.

You blink, your vision blurry as if just woken from a deep sleep. It takes a few moments to recognize where you stood and what you were doing. A feeling of deja vu washes over you, a frown of confusion over your face as you bend over to pick up the fallen tray of breakfast you brought for Morpheus.

You look at him, who now sits in his regular position on the ground, his limbs bent into himself, and the muzzle gone—did you take it off of him already? Shaking your head, you try to grasp at memories of something you seem to have forgotten. Like a vivid dream lost the moment you wake. Maybe you just dissociated while cleaning up—it is a pretty menial task after all.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” The question comes out more confused than anything.

You see the slight dip of his chin as Morpheus nods.

Yes. He will see you tomorrow. The question is whether or not you will remember it.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Main Masterlist ⇆ Series Masterlist

L for Lactation ⇆ N for Neighbor

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Okay so like this was suppose to be another A/B/O situation where Dream was in a desperate rut and had to be muzzled before the Reader could calm him down with their wild charms. Buuuuut I scrapped that idea cause I just couldn't find the inspiration to finish it and it lowkey put this whole series on pause soooo.... tadaaaa

Thank the universe for the second season though. It kickstarted my flow of (horny) inspiration again. See you in another story!

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader smut #morpheus x reader smut #26 ways of taking you

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starsainzjr · 1 year ago

Text

Study Abroad

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x university student!reader Faceclaim: None

A/N: inspired by me very very much wanting to study abroad

✷✷✷✷✷

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ybfusername I'll be waiting for the "you were right" text

yourusername It's not gonna come ybfusername Sure. That's what they all say

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mickschumacher Berlin, Germany

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mickschumacher Home 🇩🇪

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mercedesamgf1 See you soon!

mickschumacher Counting down the days! 4️⃣4️⃣

logansargeant When am I getting the tour?

mickschumacher When you provide me with tickets to a Dolphins game logansargeant Ooh this'll be fun

micks47 His ability to switch from golden retreiver to... that will never not astound me

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shoemaker477 I'm crying, he's literally not doing anything and he's making me emotional

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humboldt.uni Humboldt-Universität

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humboldt.uni Huge thank you to today's guest lecturer, Mick Schumacher! Mick spoke to a group of students, including study abroad students coming from all corners of the globe, about following their dreams and becoming successful.

Our guest lecturer series continues this semester with more surprise guests!

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ybfusername I still can't believe you hate me

yourusername I do not hate you ybfusername If you loved me you'd show me who the guy is yourusername I'm not gonna come back. I'm just gonna stay in Germany ybfusername I'll follow you, bitch don't think I won't

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mickschumacher Last few days have been incredible, and would not be possible without @/yourusername by my side. So grateful to have you with me Liebling

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yourusername My rock ❤️

mickschumacher Can't wait to do great things together

logansargeant Oh okay, I'm the only single one now. Awesome

yourusername I have a friend, it'll be okay Logan ybfusername Hi, I'm the friend

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lilymhe I HAVE A NEW FRIEND EXCUSE ME IF I'M EXCITED

mercedesgirl63 GOD

shoemaker477 He is such a golden retriever boyfriend oh my god I can't wait for this content

micks47 Hate to break it to you bestie but she has a private account micks47 And like 400 followers shoemaker477 Somehow that makes all this even more adorable. That he didn't go for some actress or singer or model and someone normal

✷✷✷✷✷

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#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #social media au

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stevie-petey · 2 years ago

Text

episode three: the pollywog

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?” A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why. “I pay attention,” you dodge.

Summary: you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

Rating: general, some curing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, cursing, slight reference to billy being mean and trauma

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: hello ! my first day of spring semester is tomorrow, so here's a quick lil chapter for yall :) i wont have a lot of time to update as frequently anymore, but i promise i will continue to update as much as i can <3 in the meantime, enjoy this chapter n have a lovely day my dears !!

Like most mornings, you’re up and ready before Dustin has even woken up.

“Dustin! C’mon, wake up! Jonathan will be here soon and–” You try to open your brother’s door, but it’s locked. “What the–? Dustin! Hello?”

You begin pounding on his door, trying and failing to get in, and right as you’re about to break the door down, your mom comes in from the kitchen. “Y/N, Dusty has already left.”

“Left? Like, he went to school already?” No way in hell that kid has just decided to get up and ready for school any earlier than he needed to. That kid could sleep thirty hours if given the chance.

“Yup! He left pretty early this morning, said he had a test to study for.” Your mom says as she wanders back towards the kitchen to make her usual cup of coffee.

“Huh,” you’re starting to worry that maybe Dustin is hiding something. First he blocked the door from you last night, now he’s supposedly leaving early for some test? He’s hiding something, you know he is. What worries you, though, is that Dustin hasn’t felt the need to hide anything from you since the whole El fiasco.

Which hadn’t ended well.

As you’re lost in thought, mentally going through Dustin’s actions these last few days, Jonathan walks through your front door, keys in hand.

“Hey, bug. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head to clear any more thoughts. You’ll interrogate Dustin later. “Let me grab my bag, one sec.”

Jonathan nods before he’s attacked by your mom, who pulls him into a hug squeals. “Jonathan!”

“You saw me last night, Mrs. Henderson.” He pats her back awkwardly, mouthing “help me” towards you, but you only laugh and grab your bag from your room.

As soon as you have your stuff, you and Jonathan head out. You sneak some glances at him while he drives, memories from last night crashing back. The party… Well, who could’ve seen any of that coming? Considering how shitty the night turned out, Jonathan looks better at least. However, the bruises on his knuckles make you frown.

“I’m sorry about Billy,” you say, grabbing the bruised hand. His skin is rough against yours, but familiar all the same.

Jonathan gives you an incredulous look. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes…?”

“Bug, no. We aren’t doing this.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Billy was being a piece of shit, you needed my help, so I did what any sane person would do.”

You’re silent, not used to having such aggression from Jonathan aimed at you. He’s not necessarily mad at you, but you and him have had some issues in the past about stuff like this. You’ve always apologized for other people’s actions, as if you getting hurt is somehow always your fault. He hates that you do it.

You hate that you always do it. But you can’t help it, it’s almost second nature at this point.

Jonathan, reading your mind, sighs. His anger dissipates and he grabs your hand now, kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… You mean the world to me, Y/N. I love you, I will always be there for you. I’d punch Billy a million more times if I needed to, without you ever having to ask me.”

“I know, but–”

“If you feel guilty I will pull this car over and shake your pretty little head until I finally knock some sense into it.”

Finally, you laugh. “Now that’s just dramatic.”

“Do I need to pull over?”

“No,” you raise your hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up now.”

Jonathan nods his head. “Good, just the way I like it.”

You smack his chest, and he fake screams in pain. He makes a show of it, hunching himself over while he drives and clutches at his chest, which you giggle at. He’s laughing as well, and it’s one of your “normal” moments that have become so few and far between. Just you and Jonathan, giggling in his car early in the morning as you drive to school, your laughter is just enough to keep the two of you warm.

Jonathan’s ladybug ring catches the morning light and the bee wrapped around your neck buzzes against your skin.

But “normal” never lasts long anymore, and you remember Nancy’s drunken eyes from last night and Steve’s loneliness in his voice when he asked you why everyone keeps leaving him. The memories cause your giggles to fade off, the small moment of joy now gone.

Jonathan sees your mood change and, because he’s always on the same page as you, purses his lips. “So… It’s now tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, remembering telling him last you’d talk about Steve and Nancy tomorrow. “It’s now tomorrow.”

“Why’d you insist on driving Steve home?”

The question is innocent enough, but you sense that how you answer it could change things. “He was upset.”

“Sure, but you almost bit my head off when I last asked about that guy. Then you wanted to drive him home?” Jonathan keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, though he clenches his jaw ever so slightly. But you see it. You always see it.

“Bee… I had to, okay? Please, can we just leave it at that?” You don’t want to talk about your fucking feelings with the first boy you’ve ever loved, the boy who doesn’t love you back.

Jonathan swallows, takes another deep breath, and then nods. “I took Nancy home, like Steve asked. She was… Very drunk. Had to carry her into bed.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

“You didn’t shove alcohol down her throat.”

“No, but I did encourage her to go to that stupid party while she was fighting with Steve.”

“Steve and Nancy have been fighting?”

Shit. You forgot that Jonathan didn’t know.

“Okay, yes” you say, but right as Jonathan’s eyes light up, you’re quick to backtrack. “But if I tell you anything else, you have to swear to keep it between us. Got it?”

“I won’t say a word.”

You sigh, really hoping you aren’t breaking Nancy’s trust. Technically, she hadn’t asked you to keep your conversation from yesterday private, but… It feels wrong telling Jonathan about it. “Nancy and Steve have been fighting, yes, but not in the way you’d think.”

You’ve arrived at school, so Jonathan quickly parks the car before motioning for you to keep talking. “Go on, I’m curious now.”

“God, you’re a worse gossip than I am. Anyways, she’s mad at Steve for brushing off Barb’s death, in a sense. But also, like… Steve isn’t really brushing off Barb’s death? I think he just wants to help Nancy, those are his intentions, but he doesn’t know how. He thinks dinner dates, going to parties, and spending a lot of time together will get her mind off of things.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Well, babying Nancy won’t help.”

“I know, and you’re right, but Nancy should have expressed this to Steve better, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know what happened last night, but it seems like she tried drinking away her anger towards him rather than actually talking to him.”

“And how can we know Steve wouldn’t just run away or something? Actually be up for it, be proactive rather than retroactive. It seems like Nancy needs to do something about Barb’s death.”

Frustration builds within you. “And what good does assuming something actually do? Assuming that Steve wouldn’t listen is wholly unfair and honestly, a bit rude. He’s her boyfriend, she can’t just assume he wouldn’t care. Steve has done everything he can to show he cares, that he loves her, so I think Nancy should be the one to voice her feelings and let him know what she needs. What she wants.”

Jonathan looks away. “And what should Nancy want, bug?”

You’re silent.

Somehow, you and Jonathan aren’t fighting about Steve and Nancy anymore.

“I… I don’t know.” You look out the window, watching as students pass by.

After a tense silence, Jonathan tries to crack a joke. “Oh, you’ll laugh at this! Caught Bob sneaking out the house like some shameful teenage boy this morning.”

You turn towards him now. “Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s sweet, your mom seems happy.”

“Sure, but…” Jonathan’s smile falters, not expecting you to be so stoic as a reaction. “He’s kinda a loser, you gotta admit.”

“Jonathan Byers, I literally had to save you from bullies, five times my size, as a girl, when we were twelve.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“You should be nicer about Bob. He’s a good guy, he actually cares about you, Will, and your mom. After the hell you guys went through with Lonnie, you should be appreciative of Bob.” You’re so angry now, your fists shake with rage. “You have a healthy father figure in your life now, which I would kill to give Dustin, and even if you don’t like him, you’re luckier for it.”

Jonathan is quiet. He’s staring down at his steering wheel in shame, and you feel bad for snapping so suddenly. You aren’t sorry for your anger towards him, his attitude towards Bob has been bothering you for a while. However, it doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch about it just because of your own issues surrounding shitty dads.

“I’m sorry, bee. You have a right to feel uncomfortable about the change, but I just think you should give Bob a chance. I like the guy.” You offer, looking over at your friend tentatively.

“No, you’re right. I know you are, it just takes some getting used to, I guess.” He grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze as if to tell you it’s all good now, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Great drive to school today,” you quip.

Jonathan laughs. “God, I think I had about five heart attacks during those conversations.”

The tension leaves the car. Then, slowly, the warmth creeps back in as you and Jonathan once again start laughing. You’re not sure why you’re even laughing, but you’re happy that you are.

–

Jonathan walks you to your locker, as he always does, and before he turns to head to his, you notice how quiet it is in the hallway. You look over at Nancy’s locker, which somehow always manages to be near yours every year, and frown when you don’t see her.

“There’s a suspicious lack of Nancy and Steve making out against her locker this morning.” You tell Jonathan.

He looks around and notices you’re right. The two of you share a concerned glance, knowing that their absence can’t mean anything good for the couple.

“Should we go look for them?” He asks, but you’re already heading towards the parking lot to find Steve. “Y/N!”

“Go find Nancy!” You call behind you, speeding up. “I’ll meet you at first period!”

Steve’s car is hard to miss in the parking lot. Hawkins isn’t necessarily a flashy town. No one else besides the Harringtons owns a fancy BMW. You approach the car and spot Steve sitting in the front, his head ducked down as if no one can see his massive red car and easily identify him.

Idiot.

Steve is having a rough week, so he’s spent the last five minutes in his car debating on whether or not he can afford to skip his first class. Reasonably speaking, his dad would kill him. He already has shit grades and he’s missed three college application deadlines. All he has left is Tech. However, his girlfriend told him last night she doesn’t love him and Billy embarrassed him in front of everyone last night.

Plus Nancy left with Jonathan, which everyone saw.

He told him to take her, but still.

Pretty embarrassing.

Yup. Alright. He’s going home.

Steve reaches over for his keys to turn the car on, but before he can, a knock on his window stops him. He looks up, scared Billy will be there, but instead he sees you and he’s not sure if his day just got better or worse.

“Let me in, dingus.” Your voice is light, but still stern, and yeah. Steve’s day just got better.

He unlocks the door and you silently get into the passenger seat. As you get settled in, he thinks about the first time he ever had you in his car. It feels like a lifetime ago, Steve’s heart had been beating wildly taking the risk of offering you a ride.

It had been the start of something, he could feel it.

But then you left him that summer without another word, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. As if Steve hadn’t slowly come to find himself opening up to someone, trusting that you’d let him be whoever he wanted; he could just be Steve around you, not King Steve or even perfect boyfriend Steve.

Now Steve’s hiding out in his car, no longer King Steve or even good fucking boyfriend Steve, and instead of his girlfriend seeking him out to comfort him, it’s you. Because of course it’s you.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi.”

“You know that senior study hall is inside the school, right?”

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?”

A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why.

“I pay attention,” you dodge.

Steve wants to tease you some more, play into the banter he missed the most when the two of you weren’t talking, but his heart isn’t in it. Nancy’s words kept him up all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was her telling him that she didn’t love him. After he did everything he possibly could’ve done right, it still hadn’t been enough.

“Did Nancy get home okay?”

You give him a small smile. “Yeah, I just talked to Jonathan about it.”

Relief floods through Steve. At least that’s one thing he hadn’t fucked up last night. “Good… I’m glad then.”

He awkwardly clears his throat and looks away again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost, floating through his morning. Nothing has felt real since yesterday in the library with Nancy, when she had been looking up at him with those eyes he’s always been weak for.

“Any particular reason you’re hiding out in your car?”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “You were there last night. You know what happened.”

“Actually, I don’t.” You see the disbelief on Steve’s face and quickly correct yourself. “I mean, I remember you saying something about Nancy but… I don’t want to assume, so…”

Now you’re the one looking away in shame, and Steve watches as you nervously fiddle with your fingers and bite your lip. You’re trying. Though Steve still isn’t sure how to feel about you, how much to test this new compromise between you two, this “friendship”, Steve knows he has to at least try as well.

He takes a deep breath. “Nancy… She isn’t in love with me.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Steve, I mean, are you sure–”

“Pretty fucking sure, Y/N. Unless you think someone telling their boyfriend ‘like we’re in love’ means she’s madly in love with him.”

Another beat of silence passes. Steve can see the pity in your eyes, and he hates it. He fucking hates this, feeling so pathetic and small.

Then, your hand slowly intertwines with his and the anger in Steve’s chest lessens a bit. “I know my words don’t mean anything, but… Nancy not being in love with you has nothing to do with you as a person.”

Something untangles in Steve’s chest; you’ve reassured him of something he hadn’t even known had been his fear. How do you always seem to decipher what he’s feeling before he can?

“How do you know?” Steve has never felt so small before.

You shrug, but there’s a calculated nonchalance to it that he can easily see. “Because I know you. You’re frustratingly charming, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, something he didn’t even know he was able to do anymore. “That’s your takeaway here?”

“Mhm,” you squeeze his hand and Steve has never felt this grounded before by such a small action. “I say you need to talk to Nancy, I mean really talk to her. No more half truths and appeasements. I think she does love you, in her own way, but the circumstances aren’t on your guys’ side. I mean, she went through hell and back last year, Barb’s death anniversary is soon.”

You pause for a moment and frown, which Steve has come to learn means you’re carefully choosing which words to say next. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that this has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

Steve wants to believe you, god he really wants to, but even he can see the blaring irony of you telling him that Nancy’s lack of love for him has nothing to do with him personally. You, the girl he came to trust more than anyone else in this awful town, ditched him in the same manner. Steve’s the common denominator there. He’s always the one left behind.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the words don’t mean a whole lot coming from you right now,” Steve tells you, and he hates the way your eyes darken, as if guarding yourself from him. “I know we agreed on being friends again, but I just… I need some time.”

You nod, as if you expected something like that from Steve, and he almost wants to just drive away with you in the car and pretend that nothing else exists. Instead, he clears his throat, his tongue feels heavy and his throat threatens to close up, but he forces himself to get the words out. “I want to be alone, please.”

He really doesn’t want to be alone, but his brain is swimming in confusion and you’re still holding his hand and Steve just needs a moment to himself to just breathe.

“Of course,” you tell him, because of course you listen and understand. ��You know where to find me, yeah?”

Steve nods. He does.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You give him a small wave in response, close the car door, and then make your way back to the high school.

Steve watches you fade into the distance.

He’s alone again.

–

Jonathan makes it to first period with only seconds to spare. He throws himself into his seat next to you with panting breaths. Your history teacher, Mrs. Kent, drones through attendance without having noticed anything.

“I couldn’t find Nancy.” Jonathan whispers, before his name is called and he quickly raises his hand and says, “Here.”

You glance at the chalkboard and then flip your textbook to the page scrawled on it. “I found Steve wallowing in his car, alone. Guess he didn’t drive Nancy to school?”

“Seems a bit harsh.”

“May I remind you of the time you threw a jacket at my face and then screamed at me that we aren’t family? All because you felt guilty about taking naked photos of Nancy?”

Jonathan drops his head onto the desk, letting out a groan. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

You keep your eyes on the board, taking a few notes. “Nope.”

Class starts up now, so the topic is left alone. The school day passes on, you and Jonathan separating for your own classes after history is done. The day drags on for a while, though you hear a few whispers in the hall about how Jonathan had taken home a drunk Nancy.

“God, it’s like she loves the attention.” One girl giggles with her friend while you’re at your locker.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Please, as if anyone would choose Byers over Steve Harrington.”

“I’m more of a Wheeler fan myself,” you tell the girls, not even sparing them a glance. “Now, why don’t we all just shut up and move away from my locker?”

The girls scurry away, fear in their eyes, and you simply shake your head at them. Why is Nancy always the one those girls gossip about? Objectively speaking, Steve has done much more heinous things than getting a ride home from a friend while drunk.

Jonathan kisses your cheek as he walks up from behind you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey, bug. Lunch at my car today?”

“Ugh, it’s such a nice day today, I’d love to.” You grab your lunch from your locker. Once you have it, you link your arm through Jonathan’s. “Guide the way, good sir.”

“Yes ma’am.”

–

Nancy is leaning against Jonathan’s car when you walk outside.

Her shoulders are slouched and you can see the unease on her face. She looks tired, too. A few people walk by her and stare, whispering as they go, and you really hate high schoolers sometimes.

When you make it to Jonathan’s car, Nancy holds her lunch bag up awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”

“I’m sure we can make some room.” You tell her, which she smiles at.

It takes some adjusting, but eventually the three of you manage to fit on the front of the car. You sit on the roof, your legs dangling off of the side, while Nancy and Jonathan take the front. The early November sun beats down on you three, but the cool breeze makes the sting less painful. It’s a lovely day, all things considered.

You’re nibbling on your sandwich when Nancy exhales deeply and turns to you. “Y/N, you’d always tell me the truth, right?”

“Depends,” you take another bite out of your food. “What is this in reference to?”

“Last night… I don’t remember what I did.”

There’s a certain shame in her eyes that tells you she encountered Steve before retreating to Jonathan’s car. “You spoke to Steve this morning, I take it?”

She looks at you, surprised. “How did you–”

“We talked to him last night.” Jonathan cuts her off, looking between you and Nancy nervously. He’s not sure where you, her, and Steve all fall in regards to each other.

“So, he asked you to take me home?” Nancy faces him now, and you go back to eating.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean he was upset…” He glances at you briefly before looking back at Nancy. “I mean, he was really upset.”

“I don’t blame him.” You cut in, mouth full of chips you stole from Jonathan.

He sends you glare and keeps talking. “But he was still worried about you, Nance.”

Nancy drops her head down and a part of you feels bad for the quip. She really does look ashamed, but you distinctly remember warning her about this exact thing last year in the school’s shed. She had tried telling you there wasn’t anything between her and Jonathan, and all you could tell her was that Steve didn’t deserve to be lied to or cheated on.

Guess she only kept one end of that bargain.

Jonathan sees that she’s upset and he softens his voice, scooting closer to her. “Hey, you need to cut yourself some slack, okay? People say stupid things when they’re wasted. Things they don’t mean.”

You bite your tongue. Hard. If you allow yourself to speak, you won’t be able to guarantee it’ll be anything nice. Sure, being drunk can influence some words to slip out, but cruelly telling your boyfriend of over a year that you don’t love him is something you can’t defend. Not when Nancy had other chances to tell Steve.

Nancy whips her head up. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. What if I did mean it? All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”

You and Jonathan share a look. He seems more curious, you can feel the anger burning through your eyes.

“No offense, Nance.” You wipe your hands on a napkin and force the girl to look at you. “But this is really something that you should be talking to Steve about. Remember our conversation from last year?”

Nancy looks down again in shame. “You’re right, I know you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like there’s this…” She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts, but Jonathan finishes for her.

“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too.” He says, then he flicks your leg. “Y/N does as well. She tries to hide it, but I know she feels it as much as I do.”

Now it’s you who turns away, embarrassed and ashamed. Clearly you haven’t been so good at hiding your never ending guilt over Will.

“Yeah, but it’s different for you guys. Will came home.” Nancy says.

You open your mouth to speak, to correct the girl’s horrible viewpoint, but Jonathan surprises you by correcting her himself. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but… I don’t know.”

“Dustin still has nightmares.” You admit, which Jonathan hadn’t known.

“I thought those went away, bug.”

You shake your head at him. “No… If anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Some nights he sleeps in my bed, says I calm him down, but I just… I feel horrible, knowing I left them alone that night at the middle school. The things he saw… god.”

Nancy and Jonathan sigh, understanding how painful the weight of guilt can feel.

A silence follows your confession.

Then, because you hate when there’s silence, you try to go back to the previous topic. “Anyways, Nancy, what we’re trying to say is that we understand. And I’m sure Steve will, too. He was also there that night, at Jonathan’s. You should talk to him, explain the weight within you. Steve, he…”

You find yourself pausing, unsure if what you’re about to tell Nancy is something Steve would want you to keep between you two, but he misses her. He loves her, so you try to fix whatever you can between them. “He thinks he did something wrong, that he’s unlovable. It isn’t fair to make someone feel that way.”

Nancy sighs. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know, but now that you do, you should probably do something about it. You guys can still go back to how things were.”

Jonathan frowns. “What if things can’t go back to the way they were? I mean, Will still thinks he’s in the Upside Down sometimes. I’ve seen the way Dustin gets scared when he hears a loud noise.”

A phantom pain shoots through your ankle. It’s long since healed, but sometimes memories from last year still sting. As you’re absentmindedly rubbing at it, Nancy notices and starts to get upset.

“Doesn’t that make you mad?”

“Mad?” You and Jonathan ask at the same time.

Nancy seems to almost come back to life, her anger now bringing energy back into her. “Yeah, that those… Those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it.”

“The people responsible for this, they’re dead.” Jonathan gently reminds her.

Nancy leans in close, bitterness in her voice as she narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Jonathan frowns again and you do the same. If you’re being honest, you were also pretty skeptical about the whole evil scientists at Hawkins Lab all dying. Seemed like a pretty convenient thing to happen. But what else are you supposed to believe?

Nancy looks between you and Jonathan and sighs again. You know she’s upset by your unwillingness to look further, to question everything, but then you watch as her eyes drift towards some kid with his headphones and his walkman. Something shifts in her gaze and you know immediately that she’s thought of something.

You scoot closer in a hurry. “Nancy, whatever it is–”

“Your mom’s boyfriend,” she looks over at Jonathan. “He works at RadioShack, right?”

“Yeah… Why?” Jonathan looks over at you as if you have any possible explanation, and you just shrug at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you wanna skip fourth period?”

Immediately you hop down from the car. “No. Nope. Not happening. We aren’t doing this again.”

Nancy groans at you. “Y/N, I haven’t even explained my plan to you yet.”

“Okay, go on. Explain it, so I can then say no.”

Nancy does as she’s told, and it’s a fucking brilliant plan. You know it’ll work, and that’s why you can’t do it. Buying a tape recorder, planting a fake meetup with Barb’s mom to con the Hawkins Lab people into taking them in, and then recording whatever they confess to take it to the detective Barb’s parents hired.

It’s a genius plan, but you can’t leave the kids behind for that long.

“I can’t go.”

Jonathan looks disappointed. “Bug, don’t you want to make those assholes pay?”

“I do,” you reassure him. “But I can’t afford to leave the kids behind for two whole days. I mean, last time I did they opened a portal to another dimension. And Dustin has been acting weird lately, and Will’s been having those episodes more and more and I just… What if it’s happening again?”

Your voice shakes a bit with fear, and Jonathan pulls you into him. “We don’t know that.”

“But what if it is? Who would be there for them? We can’t just leave them to suffer the consequences alone while we’re trying to avenge them.”

While you’re still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Nancy rests her own hand against your shoulder. “I would feel better knowing the kids are in good hands. You’ve always been their biggest advocate.”

You thank the girl, but Jonathan still seems unsure about leaving you behind. “What about you? Who’s gonna be there for you if something happens?”

There, hidden underneath his words, you know he’s really asking how can I protect you if you aren’t within arm’s reach?

You bury your face into his chest, and Nancy seems to get the message and looks away. When you have some privacy, you look up at Jonathan. “I’ll be okay, bee. I promise. We can call every day you’re away, nothing will go uncommunicated this time. No secrets. You’ll be home in no time and I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”

He kisses your head. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I should be telling you that.”

“Y/N…” he isn’t laughing, and you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. He’s terrified to leave you behind, but you know that this is what you have to do.

“I love you, and I’ll be right here. Come home to me, alright?”

“I will.” He promises, and you look into his eyes and see all the warmth and sincerity that you’ve come to love so much, and you believe him.

After a few moments, you finally pull away from him. You clear your throat and turn towards Nancy. “Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m assuming I’m covering for y’all?”

She nods. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I tell my mom I’m at your place?”

“Duh, and Jonathan,” you flick his forehead, breaking the remaining tension away. “I’ll tell your mom you’ll be at my place as well. Sound good?”

He nods as well, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should.

“Well!” You clap your hands and stand between Nancy and Jonathan. “Great team meeting, gang. Let’s reconvene in two day’s time.”

Nancy laughs and pulls you into her own hug.

“I’ll keep him safe,” she whispers into your ear, and you exhale shakily. The weight of everything has finally settled in. You can’t believe you’re doing this. A part of you feels like you’ve just solidified something horrible, not agreeing to come along, but the other part of you, maybe even the larger part, is secretly relieved.

You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, squeezing her tightly.

When you break apart, you pull Jonathan into yet another hug. “Stay safe, bee.”

“I will.”

“Good,” you pull away and give the two teens a thumbs up. “Break a leg, go expose some weird government agency!”

–

True to your word, you cover for Jonathan and Nancy the rest of the day. Teachers ask where they are and you simply tell them they both had a family emergency. Thankfully, due to living in such a small and rundown town, they don’t question it.

After school, you head over across the street to the middle school to go pick up Will and Dustin. Since Jonathan drove you to school and took his car with Nancy, you’ll have to hitch a ride on your brother’s bike pegs to work.

When you reach the school you walk towards the bike rack, expecting to see the boys all standing there about to leave, but you stop when you realize that they aren’t.

Huh. Odd.

You wander around. It’s been years since you’ve been inside the middle school, and the hallways are filled with memories. You walk towards the AV room, figuring they’re probably there to discuss whatever new project they’re working on. As you round the corner, you hear pounding and a girl’s voice demanding to be let in.

Speeding up, you spot Max with her angry fists. “Guys! What’s going on? C’mon!”

You watch for a moment, curious as to who this girl is. Dustin spoke highly of her, yet her brother is the worst person you’ve met in your life. She has an anger in her, that much is obvious, but then she grabs something from her bag and begins to pick at the lock.

Hm, she’s smart.

“Need some help?” You ask her.

She looks up at you and frowns. “And who are you?”

“Y/N Henderson. Unfortunately, the idiot that I’m assuming is locked inside the room is my brother.”

“You know how to pick a lock?” Max asks, eyeing you up and down.

Shrugging, you say, “can’t be too hard.”

Max seems to accept that as an answer and slides over, making room for you to crouch down next to her. You help her jimmy the paperclip into the door. Then, you hear some muffled yelling from the other side. What the fuck has your brother gotten up to this time?

“I’m gonna put a leash on that kid,” you mumble, and Max laughs.

“Do they do this a lot?”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Yeah. They’re weird, honestly–”

The lock clicks, the door flings open, and suddenly a tiny, slimy creature comes scampering out the room. You hear the boys curse and before you can get up and out of their way, they come crashing into you and Max on the ground.

“Shit!” Dustin knees your forearm and you groan.

“Y/N!” His eyes widen when he sees you. He’s been caught.

Max gets up. “What was that?”

Lucas ignores her. “He’s getting away!”

“Who is getting away?” You’re finally up as well, watching as the boys start to scramble around in a panic.

Mike, seemingly unsurprised by your sudden appearance, turns to you. “Dart!” Then, in annoyance, he turns towards Max. “You let him escape!”

“What the fuck is a Dart?” You’re freaking out now. Lucas, hearing your confusion, can only shrug his shoulders at you.

Then, Dustin angrily advances towards Mike and starts yelling in his face. “Why did you attack him?”

Mike doesn’t say a word, he just starts to run down the hall. Dustin, even more in a panic, screams at him, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you hurt him!”

You grab at your brother’s jacket and fling him back, now incredibly fucking angry. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds to explain what the fuck is happening.”

Lucas, Max, and Will stand back, frightened by your anger. Dustin, the only one who ever seems to face this anger, gulps. “I can explain.”

“Start. Talking.”

And he does. He explains how he had found Dart last night, thinking it had been some new lizard breed previously undiscovered. That’s why he hadn’t let you into his room. Then, to prove he was some scientific prodigy and, which he doesn’t tell you but you suspect, to impress Max.

“I was about to show Mr. Clark before Mike came in and took Dart. According to Will…” Dustin looks over at Max, lowers his voice, and whispers to you, “he’s from the Upside Down.”

And there it is.

There, the dread that has been creeping up on you ever since you saved Will, comes crawling up. You knew this would happen eventually. It’s happening again. You were right.

God, it’s happening again.

Thank fuck you stayed behind with the kids.

You want to throw up, crawl into a ball and pretend nothing else exists anymore, but Dustin is looking at you with fear in his eyes and you know you have to be strong for him. For all the kids, now. “Okay, let’s split up and find Dart.”

Dustin nods and sends Will southbound, Lucas westbound, and Max towards the gymnasium. You go with him, both because he’s your brother and because you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him. Everyone takes a walkie and splits up.

Mike is already long gone, which you’re not surprised by.

After everyone leaves, you snap at Dustin. “Thanks so much for telling me about Dart, by the way.”

“Y/N…”

“What exactly did you think you’d do with that thing hidden in our house?”

“Continue to hide it from you–ow!” Dustin rubs the back of his head.

You continue to walk. “You deserved that.”

“I did.”

You laugh, but then you feel a sense of static behind you. You turn around, but there’s no one there. But the static had felt like the same electricity that had accompanied El’s powers last year, but… No. She’s gone. You know she is.

Brushing it off as paranoia, you continue to keep an eye out for Dart. “So, what does Max think about all this?”

“Mike won’t let us tell her.” Dustin says, annoyance in his voice.

This doesn’t shock you. “I get why. I mean, we all almost died last year.”

“Yeah, but she’s different. She’s cool, I think she could be good for the party.”

Dustin seems so eager, and you feel bad for denying the boy. “She’s too young. You’re all too young for this. We can’t rope her any further into the Upside Down. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Your brother sighs. “I mean, I guess… but–”

Will’s voice suddenly comes through the walkie. “Guys, I found him.”

“Where?” Dustin fumbles with the walkie, almost dropping it in his frantic rush to answer.

“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”

“Copy that.” Mike says.

You look over at Dustin. “Race you to the bathroom?”

“You’re on.”

The two of you start to run, and at first you’re winning. But then you forget that you haven’t been in the school for at least three years now and you take a wrong turn, misremembering where Mr. Salerno’s room is. “Shit!”

You backtrack, but Dustin is long gone now.

By the time you get your bearings back, Lucas, Mike, and Max have all run down the hallway towards the bathroom. You join them as you all run inside. Dustin is standing in the middle of the bathroom, which you find strange.

Mike looks around. “Where’s Dart?”

“I don’t know. Not here.” You eye your brother, but he averts your gaze.

“Will said he was here.” You remind him, but Dustin doesn’t respond.

Mike curses and starts checking all the stalls.

“Maybe Will has him?” Dustin says, but you keep an eye on him. Something isn’t right.

You’re about to call Dustin’s bluff, accuse him of lying, when Mike suddenly freezes. He looks around, then turns to you. “Where’s Will?”

You turn around and finally notice that yeah, Will isn’t here. But he had just radioed from the bathroom.

“I… I don’t know.” Fear settles in you now, and you have an awful feeling that something bad is about to happen. After his episode from the night before…

You run out the bathroom, the first to start looking for Will.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dustin n the kids time !!!#WOOOOOOO #and steve :((((#poor baby

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milkoomi · 7 months ago

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ it-girl school tips ᝰ.ᐟ

a new semester is around the corner for a lot of us, and i’m seeing so many blog posts about study/school tips, and i thought i’d share a few of my own that i’ve began to implement into my own school routine that helped me succeed during the fall semester!

just to preface: i took 2, almost 3, gap years after my first year at a university. i realized i was so burnt out after high school and my mental health wasn’t where i needed it to be, so i took a very much needed break! i started back up in school earlier last year in the spring, and i am flourishing! i’ve reconnected with my love and passion for my education and i’ve eased myself back into a comfortable, but effective, routine that’s helped me succeed!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ find/create a good study environment

having a cozy, comfortable, and nice place to get your studying done will make your sessions so much more enjoyable! you’ll feel more motivated to get work done in a space that you feel good in! so whether it be your own space, your favorite café, or even your school’s library, having a good environment to focus on your schoolwork will increase your productivity and make you feel good about studying!

a darling mutual of mine created this post that has helpful tips on creating your desired study space - @glowettee ♡︎ i also highly recommend her page for other tips related to studying, personal growth, & just becoming that girl!

ᝰ.ᐟ make use of a planner

planners are essential in maintaining organization throughout the semester/school year! whether it’s a digital or physical planner, find one that’s appealing to you! find a planner that suits your aesthetic, or your desired aesthetic, and make good use of it. it’ll help you keep track of what days & times you have a certain class, important due dates, and planning out your homework schedule!

if you have a pretty plain planner, decorate it! use fun or aesthetically pleasing stickers and use fun colored pens & highlighters; just make it super personable to you!

ᝰ.ᐟ organize, organize, organize

make sure any and all paperwork for all of your courses are organized! i personally love using accordion folders because they have tabs that you can label for each class or each week of a class! having some kind of organization method will keep you and your schoolwork in check!

how to maintain organization:

as your semester progresses, it gets pretty easy to let your organization slip through the cracks and turn into a mess.

create an organized binder to store older papers from your courses! this will be useful when midterms or finals come around and you need to look back at old worksheets, handouts, etc. you can have a big binder that’s divided by different tabs dedicated to each class you’re taking or you can get different binders for each class and organize that way!

throw out anything that no longer serves you! amongst all the papers, notes, packets, there’s bound to be things that you will no longer need. toss them out, shred them, just get rid of them! the more papers you have stocked up in folders or binders, the less room you’ll have to keep track of the real important stuff

track each week of the semester! keep that syllabus handy so you can keep track of what’s going on for each week in your classes. when you reach the point of midterms, a long weekend, or even a break (like spring break) find some time to look at the past weeks & the weeks ahead and reorganize and just reset your organization of papers, notes, etc.

ᝰ.ᐟ create a checklist for your assignments

as your classes pile up, so will your homework, and it starts to get overwhelming when you start thinking about everything you have to complete for the week. creating a checklist for what needs to get done will allow you to prioritize the most important assignments, help you practice time management, and also feel satisfaction as you check off each assignment!

this helped me immensely throughout the semester. majority of my classes were 8 week courses, so everything was pretty fast paced and due dates came up a lot sooner than i thought. whenever i made a checklist for everything i needed to do, it eased a lot of my stress because i allowed myself to break down each class and the corresponding assignments & it made me realize that i didn’t have too much to do (or at least i tricked my brain into thinking that)

i made my checklist literally through my notes app on my phone, and it was so satisfying to add the little green checkmark emoji after each assignment!

ᝰ.ᐟ don’t be afraid to ask questions

any time i struggled in a class and i was too afraid/embarrassed to ask a question, i ended up doing poorly in that class and it made studying and completing assignments so much more challenging for me. so don’t be afraid to ask questions! your teachers/professors/instructors are there to help you! they’re there to answer any and all questions you might have! asking questions also just helps you understand the material better and get any clarification you might need!

the more questions you ask, the better informed you are, and the more likely you’ll succeed!

ᝰ.ᐟ use school supplies you love

having those aesthetically pleasing school supplies actually gave me so much more motivation to get work done! using stuff that you’re excited to use during your semester will make doing schoolwork & studying so much more enjoyable for you!

ᝰ.ᐟ set the mood for your study sessions

listen to a good study playlist, light a candle, set up some cozy lighting, grab your favorite drink, and just set a good, calming mood for yourself while you study! i love having lofi play softly in the background while i’m studying, and since i do most of my studying at home, i make the lighting in my room nice and dim and get my desk lamp set up. i’ll also have a cup of coffee, tea, or water near by that i can sip on!

ᝰ.ᐟ take breaks

burn-out is extremely real and you’ll quickly feel it when you spend majority of your time studying and giving yourself way less time to rest and relax.

for longer study sessions, take 20 min. breaks after each hour! i remember taking an english course when i first started college and one of the books we were required to read was one on studying tips! (i really wish i remembered what it was called, i unfortunately misplaced it) one of the things i remembered from that book was the 20 minute rule. this time slot allows you an ample amount of time to rest your mind and take a break! you can rest your eyes, scroll through your phone, stand up/stretch and grab a snack, or just step away from your study area for 20 minutes!

set a timer! let’s say you wanna work on homework for an hour & a half, set a timer and just do all the work that you can within that time. once your timer goes off, stop doing what you’re doing and set another timer with the same amount of time to go do something you enjoy or get yourself to relax!

i can’t stress this enough: please take breaks. your mental/emotional well-being should always be your top priority! you can’t do your best in school if you, yourself, are not doing the best.

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

being that girl in school is only possible when you put your best foot forward. stay on top of your self care, keep yourself organized, and come up with a routine! a good routine will get you great results!

i wish you all a great start of your upcoming semester and i know that every single one of you will flourish during it too!

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

#milkoomis #girlblogger #girlblogging #it girl #that girl #it girl tips #becoming that girl #studyblr #study motivation #school #school advice #study tips #study movitation #self improvement #study blog #student #student life #girl blog aesthetic

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lavendertom · 2 years ago

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The Neighbor Across the Street pt. 1

Mike Schmidt x Babysitter!f!Reader

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none! maybe small age gap (reader is 20, mike is like 23/24 ?) lmk if there’s something i missed by chance

summary: the neighbor across the street needs a babysitter, so you take the job, not knowing what’s in store for you as you grow closer to the siblings. pt. 1 of a multi part series!

could be seen as a prequel to my first work My Favorite Prize, but wasn’t written with the intention :) hopefully this doesn’t feel too long, i promise it gets better in pt 2! mostly exposition here 😌

——————————————————————————

College was not the experience you’d expected at all. You lived at home deciding to attend community college, and you didn’t have many friends or the ‘college experience’ everyone else was having. You were lonely, but at least you went to bed in your own room every night rather than sharing a tiny dorm with an annoying roommate and zero privacy.

“I think I found a job for you, y/n.” you heard your mom say as you walked in the door, barely crossing the threshold.

She had been begging you to find a job for months now. You had an agreement with your parents that freshman year you would focus on your studies, but sophomore year you had to step up and start helping balance the burden of college tuition. It was now spring semester of sophomore year and you still had no job.

“Don’t hand me another McDonalds application, please.” you said with a sigh as you placed your keys and bag on the dining room table.

“You know the neighbor across the street, Mike?” you felt your heart drop with the mention of his name. How could you not know the neighbor across the street.

He immediately caught your attention the day he moved in with his sister. You knew he was a few years older than you, he wasn’t in school and he was constantly working. He was nice. Although, you’d never truly spoken to him besides introducing yourself back when he initially moved in and you were just a junior in high school. Your parents often helped him keep up with yard work when things got especially hard. Everyone knew they were struggling, it wasn’t that hard to tell.

“Yeah, I remember him.” Of course I remember Mike. He’s the neighbor that I’ve found a little too attractive since he moved in.

“I saw him this morning before work, he was telling me they’ve been in a really bad place lately. Abby’s babysitter quit, so I might’ve offered for you to stop by and help a few times a week.” your mother said, saying it as fast as possible so you couldn’t object.

“Really, mom?” you said sounding annoyed. “You couldn’t have talked to me about this before throwing me into it?”

“Listen, it won’t be that bad. I told him you’d stop by after dinner to just try it out, no commitment. He’ll be there while you just hang out with Abby for a few hours, you know how she is.” Abby was a sweet kid, just a little quieter than other kids her age.

“Okay fine, I’ll go. No promises this will work out.” You replied as you walked to your room, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead of you.

An hour later you found yourself at the doorstep of the Schmidt’s. You hesitantly raised your hand to knock on the door. You waited a moment until the door swung open.

You saw Mike standing in front of you and he honestly looked like a mess. His dark hair was all over the place and his eyes looked tired as can be. He was wearing a black hoodie, the front pocket was falling apart, and jeans that had dirt stains all over the front.

“Hey, y/n, right?” he said.

“Yeah, my mom told me you needed someone to help look after Abby.” you said, getting a good look at his eyes. This was the first time you’d ever seen them in detail. They were brown with a few specks of green and hazel in them. They were actually pretty nice to look at.

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, “I didn’t intend on accidentally hiring you for this. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s totally fine.” you said chuckling yourself, looking down at your hands. “I’ve been needing a job, so it’s kind of a blessing in disguise.”

“You’re in college right? You’re studying… what was it again?” your mom must’ve really given him the rundown.

”Cybersecurity, second year.” you said with a small smile, blush creeping up on your face. You never got used to people complimenting your accomplishments even though you had been an honors student since 3rd grade.

“Right, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” you said, smiling sheepishly.

“Anyways, feel free to come in, Abby should be somewhere around here.” he said as he moved out of the doorway, welcoming you into the home.

The house looked cleaner than you’d expected, given the state of the outside of it. It was pretty ordinary and plain. He walked towards the living room, where you could see Abby laying on the ground. There was a TV in front of her playing some kind of old cartoon. An assortment of crayons, markers, and other art supplies were sprawled all across the ground.

“Hey Abs, I want you to meet someone.” Mike said to the young girl. You walked over to stand beside him. “This is y/n, she’s going to hang out with you for a bit today, okay?”

“Hi Abby, it’s nice to meet you!” you said with a smile.

Abby looked at Mike as he spoke, then looked at you, back at Mike again, before finally going back to whatever she was drawing earlier.

“She’s gonna be a little shy at first.” he whispered to you. “Once you start talking to her she should hopefully open up a bit. I’m gonna catch up on some stuff around the house if you need anything.” he gave you a reassuring smile before walking away.

“What kind of drawing is that?” you said in an attempt to start conversation with the girl. She looked at you for a moment before looking back down. This is going to be a long night.

You decided that your initial approach wasn’t going to work. So, you got down to her level. You sat down next to her on the ground, grabbing a piece of paper and marker.

“I like drawing too, you know. Give me the name of any cartoon character and I can draw it for you.” you said softly.

She gave you a side eye, before turning her head towards your face. “Any character?”

“Yup, any character.” you said with a smile.

“Felix the Cat.” she said just before turning her attention back to the paper in front of her. This girl knows her stuff.

After a few minutes of sketching the character, you set the paper down in front of her. She paused her own work, taking the paper into her hands. She looked at you again.

“Can you draw Yogi Bear?” She commented while still looking at the sketch in her hands, sitting up just a bit straighter.

“Sure.” you said before grabbing more paper and markers.

Before you knew it, there was a large stack of drawings from the two of you featuring all sorts of characters ranging from Mickey Mouse to the Powerpuff Girls. The two of you had been doodling for almost 3 hours now, pausing every so often to talk about why they chose the characters they chose. The two of you were now discussing your favorite drawings of the night.

“I think my favorite is…” Abby began before thinking for a moment, “Courage the Cowardly Dog.”

“That’s a good one. Look at how good your drawing is!” you said to the young girl as you both laid on the ground flipping through the pages of art.

“Not as good as yours y/n!” Abby said to you, holding a stack of her favorites in her hands.

The two of you continued your conversation as Mike returned back to check in on you guys. He was genuinely surprised at how quickly Abby opened up to your company. He stood out of the girls sights for just a moment longer, taking in the sounds of laughter coming from both his sister and you.

“Hey Abs, it’s getting late, you wanna get ready for bed?” he said as he walked into the room.

“Mikeee!” Abby whined. “I’m having so much fun with y/n. Please can I stay up a little longer?”

“It’s okay Abby, I’ll be back again soon and we can do it all over again.” you reassured the girl with a smile.

“Do you promise?” she asked you.

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Of course!” you said with a laugh, pinky promising that you’d be back. Mike watched the interaction unfold with a smile.

“Alright, go get ready for bed, I’ll come tuck you in soon.” Mike told his sister.

“Bye y/n!” Abby shouted as she made her way to her room.

“So, how was she?” Mike asked you as you stood up from the floor, attempting to tidy up some of the mess you both made.

“Great, actually. I thought she adjusted fairly quickly. You’ve got quite the picasso on your hands.” you said as you quickly gestured to the now extremely messy floor.

“It’s one of the only things that keeps her entertained.” he said with a small chuckle. “But in all seriousness, I can tell she really trusts you. She hasn’t had a babysitter who actually cared for her like this in a while.”

“It was fun, I’m glad it seemed like she had a good time.” you said with a smile. “So when do you think you’ll need me here again?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No that’s perfect. Already looking forward to it.”

“You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, y/n.”

“Seriously, I’m happy to help. I really did have a great time with Abby.”

“Tomorrow it is then.” he said before shuffling through his pockets for a few dollars, attempting to hand you them. “Here, take this for coming on such short notice.”

“Mike, it’s fine. I really don’t mind. You need it more than I do.” you said with a small smile.

“You sure?” he said, almost as if he had to convince himself it was okay.

“I’m sure.” you said as you headed towards the front door. “I think I’m gonna head out now.”

“Thanks again, y/n.” he said through the door as you walked out, the cool night air hitting your face.

“Of course, anytime. See you tomorrow.” you said with a small wave. You walked home with a different feeling inside. You knew taking this little job to help out the neighbor you never attempted to truly get to know was gonna be fun.

Mike shut the door after making sure you crossed the street safely, making his way to Abby’s room.

“Y/n is really fun, Mike.” she said as she pulled the covers over her body.

“That’s good, Abs.” he said as he grabbed one of her favorite teddy bears, handing it to her.

“I think we’re going to be best friends.” she said smiling at the new assortment of drawings she already managed to tape to her walls.

“You be nice to her, okay Abby?” he said to her. “I know how you can get, don’t screw this one up.”

“Okay Mike.” she said groaning, rolling her eyes slightly.

He shut off the lamp next to her bed, giving his sister a small kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, Abby.”

He shut the door to Abby’s room, making his way back to the living room floor to clean up the mess that was still there. He grabbed one of the left over papers, admiring the assortment of characters on the paper. Right in the middle of it all were two stick figures which could only be assumed to be you and Abby.

He smiled at it, recognizing he had a good feeling about this babysitter. Not only because of how it could help Abby, but because he finally got the neighbor girl to break out of her own shell. Maybe it could even help him too.

#fnaf #fnaf fic #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #abby schmidt #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you

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starredblood · 6 months ago

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NOWHERE GIRL

PART FIFTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last day of the semester, you have to become a bearer of bad news.

wc. 4.2k

warnings: none | authors note: this is a real slow burn omg TT i gotta put you guys through a lot of yearning it’ll be all the more sweeter okay

(nowhere girl masterlist)

Dopamine levels reached a new high for you and your classmates after successfully completing the spring semester. And Yoon invited you, Mi-Cha, and her ten other friends to her family owned cafe—but you desired to go home more. You didn’t feel the thrill of walking out the doors of your campus, simply because of how mentally taxing these past few months have been.

You can finally close this chapter of your life for good but for an unusual reason, you didn’t want to. At least not yet. There’s this feeling in your chest that tells you there is something left for you to do in order to end this part of your life. You just have to figure it out first.

The cafe is packed with college students, a symphony of sighs and reliving laughter is heard at every corner. Everyone began to slow down and enjoy the rest of the evening without the rush of going home to get ready for school in the morning.

“No one is taking the drink away from you.” Mi-Cha laughs, watching amusingly how quickly you’re chugging your iced latte.

“You know I only came here because of you right?” you frown. “I just want to go home and sleep twenty four hours straight.”

“Relax you’ll go home soon. Besides, we aren’t going to see each other as often—what if this is our last time?”

You press your lips into a thin line and observe the cafe again. Yoon was by the bar, roaring with laughter amongst her friends while her parents and employees were scrambling to make drinks.

“It’s not.” you reassure, shooting your friend a smile. “We will still work together all summer, right?”

“What about that scholarship? You’re definitely going to win.” she says and you roll your eyes. “You are! Didn’t you see our co-workers faces when you showed them your final product? I bet they were envious they aren’t as skilled as you—I know I am.”

“Come on, you’re the best graphic designer in your department.” you say with a sly smirk. She lightly nudges your shin playfully. “But I think my professor is emailing us sometime today with the winning result though. He’s quick with grading.”

“Your artistic skills combined with my graphic design skills—we could seriously do some creative damage.” Mi-Cha says, grinning and sipping her drink happily. “And if you do go to Italy you have to go to Florence they have the best art supplies there. Everything there is so high quality.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Geez, now you’re getting my hopes up, Mi-Cha.”

Your eyes shift back to Yoon and your stomach churns. From someone whose life seems so perfect on the outside, it only makes sense for the universe to align Yoon to win the scholarship. It only seems right.

“Are you still planning on dorming by the way? It seems like you have your living situation all figured out.” she pipes up.

Your eyes cloud with uncertainty. “I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to get more comfortable living in my apartment but it might be more convenient for me to dorm.”

“Screw convenience—choose the one that’ll be the cheapest. Dorming will triple your tuition trust me.” she advises, snarling at the thought of her crippling student debt.

“Yeah…I don’t think I’ll want to have to work the rest of my life just to pay off all my debt. Especially now that my parents aren’t financially helping me—or helping in general.”

Mi-Cha’s eyes turn round while you take another long sip of your coffee, unaware of the pain in your friend’s eyes. It was bizarre to her how casual you mention your parent’s abandonment.

“Have they really cut you off?” she whispers and you meet each others forlorn gaze.

“They did.” you say flatly. And you feel nothing anymore at the mention of your parents. “But don’t feel bad for me. I’m doing better than I was when I was living with them.”

“Th—That’s good then…” she trails off. Trying to be selective with her words. “One day they’ll see your art work displayed permanently in Hangaram and regret ever abandoning you.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “that’ll be a nice fairytale ending.”

Grief is a great human mystery. Two weeks ago, you grieved over losing your parents as if they passed away when in reality they were only a twenty minute drive away. You were grateful school kept you busy because you were starting to think less and less of them as time went on. Selfishly, you hope that you fill their minds every waking moment of their lives.

“Guys, guys, guys!” Yoon gasps, staring at her phone screen bug-eyed. Her screeching killed the noise bouncing off the cafe walls, everyone watches her in anticipation for an announcement. You gulp, aware of what’s happening. “Oh my god—the winner is…Fuck why isn’t this email loading?”

“Watch your mouth child!” her mother hisses from behind the cafe bar.

You felt Mi-Cha reach for your sweaty palm and squeeze it as everyone held their breath waiting for her to announce the winner.

“Mom, dad we need a new internet provider!” she whines and gasps some more. Now, everyone is really getting riled up. “Oh my god it’s loaded—yes! Okay, so the winner is…let’s see…”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Maybe Sae-byeok’s life has gotten too dull. She used to live such a fast life full of danger—but now she has forgotten what it was like to have an adrenaline rush. But you’re a close second to having that feeling back again.

She hates how you burst into her life for a split second when peril is lurking and then disappear when things start to calm down. However, this time she understands why you haven’t reached out these past two weeks. School. Sae-byeok wonders what it would be like to be a stressed out college student.

Throughout this time, Sae-byeok had a lot of time to think. Her head was foggy trying to figure out why she felt so lonely without you around. She used to be so content with being isolated from the world, but after that night she didn’t feel the same anymore.

So, she can’t make up her mind. She doesn’t want you around because all you do is disappear but she wants you to be at arms reach.

Tonight is one of those nights where Sae-byeok couldn’t stop her mind from pondering. She wonders if you finished school already, and if so, if you’ll ever stop by to see her.

The Kang siblings are sitting in their bedroom floor, with Sae-byeok hugging her knees while Cheol is across from her doing his homework. Although most of the material Cheol is learning is foreign to her, she is a little bit more advanced when in comes to writing and grammar.

Cheol huffs in frustration not being able to solve one of the questions in his homework sheet. He scratches his head and thinks hard about the question. “Noona, I don’t know what this means.” he pouts.

When she doesn’t answer, he peers up at her and frowns when he notices how spaced out she seems to be. Just staring at the ground as if Cheol isn’t here struggling.

“Hey!” he snaps his fingers in his face, though they don’t make a snapping noise but it got her attention. Sae-byeok flinches back slightly and blinks down at him. “You’re doing it again.” he whines.

“Sorry, sorry.” she says, rolling her eyes slightly. “What is it?”

“Help me with this.” he points at the last question, however she is more concerned with the amount of dried of paint covering his hand. “What are you doing?”

She takes his small hands and groans. “Your hand is covered in paint, Cheol. I told you to be careful—it’s going to be a pain in the ass to remove it now.”

“Noona’s hands are always like this but you never scold her.” Cheol retorts, his lips jutting out even more.

His words made her think back to the time you tried holding her hand. She regrets letting it go but she just wanted to remember how it felt to be under your delicate embrace again.

“Because she studies to create art—you don’t.” she says, narrowing her eyes at the sulky boy. “I bet you didn’t properly put away the supplies either.”

Cheol’s eyes grew and tries masking his nervousness with a chuckle. “I—I did put it away nicely, Noona.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me check then.” she smirks and rises from the floor to open their small closet door. Of course, she was right. “Seriously!”

“I’ll clean it up I swear just help me finish my homework.” he groans.

“I’ll be there in a second I’ll clean it myself this time. But don’t do it again.” she warns with a sigh. Cheol mutters something underneath his breath and goes back to trying to solve the work on his own.

She bends down to collect the disarray of paint brushes littered around and stores them in the small plastic containers she bought specifically to put his art supplies in. After neatly storing most of the supplies back she reaches to collect the mounds of paper stacked besides the containers—one of them piquing her interest.

This couldn’t have been Cheol’s artwork, it was too intricate and detailed—so it had to be yours. She confirms this by looking at the bottom corner of the paper and sees your name signed. Her heart lurches. She bites back the urge to ask her brother how this was in his possession and instead examines it carefully.

It was a half finished sketch of a jellyfish painted with pink watercoloring and gold ink to trace its tentacles. She wonders what your thought process must’ve been to draw a random sea creature. She likes the fact that you’re spontaneous. Instinctively, a small smile forms on her lips when she remembers the fact that you painted her for an art project.

“Noona.” Cheol’s voice snaps her back to reality.

“I’m coming.” she quickly says and shoves your drawing in with Cheol’s own work.

“It’s not that. I finished the question myself.” he snips. “But someone is knocking on the door.”

Sae-byeok winces, guilt crept up to her for being too busy ogling your art while he was behind her struggling.

She walks out the door, past the living room where Ji-yeong is currently situated in, and peers over the peephole.

“Wait did someone knock?” she hears her roommate chirp behind her. “I swear I didn’t hear anything.”

Sae-byeok was half surprised and half concerned to see you pacing around the front entrance. When she opens the door, her stomach churns—she just knows that whatever you’re here for, it’s not to see her. Something must’ve happened for you to be knocking at their door.

Your pale face, wide eyes, and slight cut on your cheek tells her enough to know that she was right. Something did happen.

“What happened to your face?” she asks breathily.

Your face morphs into confusion. Reaching to touch all over your face you end up wiping some blood streaking down your chin.

“I fell but I guess I didn’t realize I—never mind that.” you shake your thoughts off and peer over her shoulders and see Ji-yeong eating a bag of chips while watching a television show. “I need to talk to you in private.”

Sae-byeok nibbles her bottom lip nervously and nods. “Alright, we’ll go outside.”

“No, no.” you say hurriedly, your eyes frantically peering inside the apartment. “Uh…Is Cheol in your room?”

This wasn’t normal. You seemed more anxious this time. Usually, you maintained a calm and levelheaded composure when confronted with a situation. But you can’t even stand still this time. Sae-byeok grows more worried at the fact that you didn’t even realize the cut on your chin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, shakily.

Before you could answer, Ji-yeong pops up behind Sae-byeok with a lazy smile. You both stiffen up by her sudden presence beckoning your conversation.

“Hey, Ji-yeong!” you say, facading your contorted face with a tight lipped grin. You place your hand on your bleeding chin to prevent her from noticing. “How are you doing?”

“Better than ever.” she says with a sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “But my boss has been on my ass for missing those two days of work when I went to jail. So, I’m currently looking to work somewhere else.”

Your eyebrows knit together and you shoot Sae-byeok a look. “Sorry to…hear that?”

“It’s whatever.” she shrugs. “Anyway, how’s school?”

“Oh, good I’m officially on summer break now.”

“Seriously? Wait—are you still working at that gallery? I really want to go one of these—“

“Ji-yeong, we have to talk in private.” Sae-byeok finally says through gritted teeth. She raises both her eyebrows to emphasize the importance of her words and Ji-yeong just keeps flickering her eyes back and forth to both of you.

“What? The two of you?” she says, a sly cheshire cat grin forms on her lips like she knows more than what she leads on. But she slowly starts backing away, but doesn’t peer away from the door. “Sure, I’ll leave you two alone…”

Sae-byeok waits until Ji-yeong enters her room to pull you inside the apartment. She leads you to the kitchen where she goes and hands you a wet paper towel for the blood. After that she nods, signaling for you to begin talking.

You stare straight into her dilated eyes and let out a huge shaky breath of air.

“I saw Jang Deok-su barge into my apartment with his gang members. One of them was Yen-ho.” you say, barely above whisper.

Unbeknownst to her, her mouth parts slightly. Yet she could feel the dramatic pause of her heart beat. “W—What? Did they see you?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure they think you live there. They kept yelling your name.”

“Fucking hell…”

Sae-byeok leans her back on the kitchen counter and runs her hands through her hair in exasperation. Things were going too smoothly in her life, of course it was only temporary.

“You know what this means right?” you say, your eyes flickering with concern. There was a moment your hands began to twitch when you thought about reaching over to touch her shoulders assuringly. Of course, you hold back the urge. “You can’t show your face at the bakery anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay—“

“No, it’s not. What if they trashed your place?” she croaks out.

Sae-byeok is now fully facing you with her heavy gaze. You were getting worried she might breakdown when you saw her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly. The past coming back to haunt her was her biggest fear, you knew that. It was at this moment that you took a deep breath to collect yourself. You couldn’t be afraid now, not when Sae-byeok is silently crying for help.

“I’m not going back there so it’s not like I’ll ever know.” you mutter. “It’s too dangerous for me to show up at my place.”

“Didn’t I tell you this would happen?” she says aggravatingly. “That you could potentially be in danger—“

“You said that about a potential lover—not me, Sae-byeok.” you correct her with a deep frown. Sae-byeok’s freckled cheeks mystically transform pink. You chew the inside of your cheek and quietly observe her more. “Let me stay here again. I will pay your end of the rent until we figure something out.”

“No!”

“Shut up!” you hiss.

Just then the sound of a door creaking open follows after Sae-byeok bellows. You move towards the corner of the kitchen, away from the sight of whoever possibly stepped outside their room.

“Noona?” Cheol whispers, voice oozing with worry.

Sae-byeok goes over to the doorframe where he is standing and bends down to meet his level. “What is it?”

“I thought you left.”

“No, of course not. I’m right here just making myself something to eat.” she reassures and lightly nudges him back inside the room. “Go back to sleep, okay? You have school in the morning.”

“Okay…” he says, raising a suspicious brow but does as he’s told nonetheless.

You fiddle with your hands waiting for Sae-byeok to reappear. Your offer was preposterous, you are aware but how could you not do this for her? The past few months, Sae-byeok quickly proved you wrong. She wasn’t just a hard-headed person with a heart of stone, you’re certain now that her love for her loved ones runs deep and quiet. You can’t just stand back and observe everything she worked hard for just crumble.

When she comes back, her expression hardens and her mouth twitches like she was ready to denounce your offer again.

“Hey, just say yes. For Cheol.” you rapidly say before she beat you to it.

Sae-byeok becomes immobile. Her eyes dance around the floor when she comes to the realization that her brother is on the line. If she can’t keep them both afloat she will have no choice but to take him back to the orphanage. And Sae-byeok doesn’t know what she will do with herself if she lets that happen. Not when she promised her little brother he’ll never go back there again.

Slowly, her eyes align back to yours with a lot less intensity in them. You both share a looking of knowing.

“Fine. For Cheol.” she finally says to you. And you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief—the anticipation of her response was eating you alive.

The two of you eat away the silence. Sae-byeok’s mind couldn’t stop spinning while you were silently checking up on her. You open and close your mouth repeatedly, not being able to find the proper words to say to her. If you couldn’t find a way to console her, you felt useless.

“I guess I should go tell Ji-yeong you’re staying here. How ironic…”

Your eyes widen when she spoke up. She avoids your gaze and brushes past you again, leaving you standing in the kitchen dumbfounded.

With her presence being gone, the adrenaline in your body starts dissipating. Your foot starts aching from all the running you did and you can feel the sharp pain in your chin from the cut. You drag yourself to the couch and sit with the pain until Sae-byeok comes back.

When she does, she comes back with her hair tied and familiar a blanket and pillow she brought from her room. You mumble a quiet thank you when she sits beside you and passes you the things you need to rest. To your surprise, she pulls out a bandaid from her pocket and takes it upon herself to plaster it on your chin.

“S—So, what did she say?” you stammer.

“Yes, obviously.” she says with a dry chuckle. “She also said it was ironic that I asked her this time around.” she expected you to laugh or make some sort of reaction after but all you did was blankly stare down at your lap which was now covered by the blanket she gave you. “What’s with that face?”

You rub the nape of your neck and sending her a fleeting gaze. “It sucks that I can’t get my things after I just got them back. But I shouldn’t be upset over materialistic things.” you admit, bashfully.

She pauses to think about your words and holds her breath when an idea forms. “Why don’t we try and sneak to your apartment to get them?”

“That’s too dangerous. What if they’re lurking around?” you object.

“We can sneak in the middle of the day. And that’ll leave me with enough time to explain Miss Ahn why I have to quit and why you can’t live there anymore.”

She patiently waits for you to take her words into consideration. When you made your decision, you tilt your head to face her with a small smile.

“I guess that works.”

Sae-byeok nods. Her heart starts racing again, not because she’s worried out of her mind because Deok-su is on the move—she now realizes she’s alone with you again. Things have calmed down and even if it’s just for a little while and there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, it’s only you two alone right now.

“Are you going to sleep yet?” she asks quietly.

“No, it’s still pretty early.” you hum and stare at the television screen in a bored fashion. “Can I change the channel?”

She nods silently and you shuffle through the different channels. You were certain this would be Sae-byeok’s cue to get up and walk back to her room but she stays on the couch in crisscross position. As casual as you can, you adjust yourself closer to her to throw over the blanket past her legs.

Sae-byeok remains stiff, pretending to care about whatever nonsense is playing on the television screen. She couldn’t think straight when all she wonders about is the warmth of your hands. Theoretically, it’s unlikely that you’ll pull away if she were to grab your hand seeing as last time you were the one itching to hold hers.

She slyly peers down at you, wondering if you’re actually paying attention to the television or if your mind is also only thinking of her. Your folded hands were perfectly positioned on top of your lap. You must’ve sensed her piercing dark eyes boring into you because you catch her staring. Sae-byeok goes to look at the television again, unable to breathe properly. She feels insane thinking this much over a simple gesture.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees you unfold your hands and—

“Are you comfortable? Do you want me to move back a little?”

“No.” she croaks out. This was easier to do just in her head. She used to be part of a gang and escaped North Korea for goodness sake how did she let herself get so soft?

“Okay?” you say skeptically before focusing back on the television. “Tell me if you want me to move at any point then.”

What the hell. If Deok-su is going get her one day and you will again disappear like you usually do, she has to do this before she ultimately cannot.

“…Can I just do this?” she reaches over to boldly take your hand and intertwine them with hers.

You stare at this hand held position for a minute, unable to process her odd behavior. Was she in need of comfort?

You two remain like this while pretending to be engrossed with the show that is playing. Neither of you dare to move a muscle.

For once, time favors Sae-byeok. She relishes this fleeting moment where it’s just you two alone. You allowed her to become a bit more vulnerable, thus leaving her mind at ease. Now, all she has to focus on is your delicately warm hands. She knows this is an abnormal thing for her to be doing but in this moment in time, she doesn’t care. Not when you could potentially be gone all of a sudden.

“Did you win?” she speaks up out of nowhere.

“What?”

“The art project.”

She sees you nod stiffly. It was odd.

“You’re thinking of not going.” she utters.

“It’s just—“

“You’re going. There’s no way in hell you’ll decline that great opportunity over this situation. Over—me.” Sae-byeok says to you sternly. “Promise me you’ll go.” she mutters, squeezing your hand.

“Fine. I promise.” you answer after a minute of hesitation.

“Good.” she sighs. “You should be excited.”

“I know…I’m just overthinking.” you admit.

“Overthinking what?”

You gulp and hope she didn’t hear it. “I don’t want you to forget about me. Any of you. I’ll be gone all summer so…”

Sae-byeok snorts. “That’ll be literally impossible.”

“Really? How so?”

“Uh,” she starts off. “well, Cheol always talks about you—especially when he’s drawing. Like earlier he mentioned how your hands are always stained with paint and it excuses him for having his hands also covered with paint.”

You bite back laughter but smiling was imminent. “That’s cute.”

“It’s annoying.” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but what if Cheol suddenly becomes disinterested in art? Will you forget me then?”

“No, I won’t forget.” she says, softly. “How could I forget someone as reckless as you?”

You raise a brow. “Reckless? How am I reckless?”

“I literally had to fight Yen-ho for you a week after knowing you.” she says, but couldn’t help but grin at how embarrassed you appear to be. “But you keep me entertained.”

You send her a dirty look and snatch your hand off her grasp. “Wow. Nice to know I’m just an entertainment to you.”

She found it amusing how hard you tried to appear offended. You go back to watching the television, but in reality, you were digesting her words.

“I know I’m not good with words but...” Sae-byeok trails off, her chest puffing up after inhaling deeply. You slowly look at her. “I’m—glad you’re a part of my life.”

You try concealing the disappointment in your face. Stupidly, you were expecting her to say something else. Instead you just smile weakly at her before glancing away. It was nice to know that she appreciates you, it must be hard for her to vocalize her feelings but you wished you were more than just a helpful friend. That is when heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the realization of something big…

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