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earlysunshines · 14 days ago

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flower girl

danielle marsh x fem!florist!reader

synopsis: you never expect much from your job at the flower shop but then the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on stumbles in

warnings: litcherslly none i don’t think anything rly ; very fluffy ; reader is awkward and loser and dorky ; danielle’s gorgeous and bubbly and cutesy and dorky too ; two dorky idiots that want each other i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: my writing is so much worse now it’s actually so bad and this is bc i haven’t written in a bit but also haven’t been reading like anthrjng (other than textbooks for class)… ooh.. ALSO heavily based off this song!!!

most people would assume that working at the towns flower shop is all sunshine’s and rainbows—the atmosphere is littered with beautiful arrangements, vibrant colors, and the gorgeous interior always has light seeping in through the windows just right.

working at the flower shop would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that you were single. maybe if a lovely girl was waiting for you to clock out, ready to give you a soft kiss to the lips you’d enjoy your shifts more—but no.

today isn’t different from the others. when is it ever?

“babe, babeeee~” a girl whines in an uncomfortably high pitched voice that it makes you cringe a bit. your brows scrunch in a bit when you hear her, “pumpkin stop— haha— th-that tickles!”

pumpkin? gosh, you might throw up into the flowers you’re fixing up.

the couple that had walked in wasted no time getting all touchy and displaying the pda that no one asked for.

(“no one” being you and only you because your manager is taking orders in the comfort of her office while you suffer out in the main area)

the boyfriend pulls her closer, his chest pressing against her back as he peppers kisses on her neck, giggling like an idiot. you have to redirect your attention completely to block them from your peripheral, trying to endure only the sound now.

“love bug, i can’t help it.” he tries to say quietly, but you’re the only people in the shop, making it increasingly difficult to put up with this.

you sigh. the only way to get them to stop sooner is to go up to them, put on your customer service voice, flash a friendly smile, and hope for the best.

“hi! did you guys need any help with anything?” he’s still holding on to her when he looks over at you and nods.

“yeah, yeah. just wanted to buy my girl some flowers. which ones are the prettiest? she likes pink.”

this job tests you everyday.

why would you buy flowers with her here? is it not usually a surprise? why are you using half of your singular braincell to think of a choice for your lover?

you criticize him knowing that he doesn’t really care what you give him, and judging by his tone—plus his ignorance and lack of interest for the vast options surrounding him—you could probably hand him polyester flowers and he wouldn’t think twice about the fact that they wouldn’t deteriorate at all in the next few years.

instead of giving in to your thoughts, your smile grows again. “right. well, a popular selection of pink flowers would be the classic rose bouquet, but we can also do a smaller bouquet of three.” you explain before poining across the shop to another arrangement. “and those are our tulips—another popular choice. as you can see, there’s a variety of colors, but depending on how many you need i’m able to provide a bouquet of pink.”

“okay, cool, cool.” he says, looking around. without thinking twice, he shrugs, then points to the roses. “i’ll take like, five? i don’t know how you do it. just pop ‘em in those little things so we can hold it and that should be it. it’s date night—need something nice for my girl.”

“oh stop it pumpkin… you’re so sweet.” the girl gushes, moving over to peck his lips.

your purse your lips into a forced smile, nodding at them. “right, i can hand you a bouquet of five. give me a few minutes.”

they nod and offer a “thank you,” before going back to being all loving and everything that manages to make you throw up in your mouth. a groan leaves your lips as you get to work.

once you’re done, you hand the man the bouquet. “these are pretty fresh, so i’d say they’ll last a week if you care for them nicely. make sure the vase you store them in has clean water and whatnot.”

he nods and offers a friendly smile before giving the flowers to his girlfriend. she kisses him on the cheek and says thank you to him like this is the best gift in the world, but you beg to differ. you also don’t get paid enough to judge boyfriends doing the bare minimum, so you simply wave at them and say, “thank you for purchasing!”

once they leave, the comforting hum of your jazz playlist fills the silence. you’re left relieved.

you sort out a few more flowers, pick up petals that fell on the ground, and clean up other messes from the day before the bell above the door rings.

a “welcome in!” leaves your mouth before you turn around to see who’s decided to stop by. you assume it’s a couple, or maybe the rare occasion that it’s someone elderly or the rarer occasion: a group of teenagers browsing around.

after fixing your hair, you turn around and are immediately met with pretty brown eyes that land right on your gaze.

a girl, the very pretty girl, looks around your age—probably a student like you. she lets the door close behind her and a small flush of wind brushes her hair across her face perfectly.

there’s a shiver that runs down your whole body. the way her lashes flutter when she blinks is like some sort of mind-blowing cinematic movie scene. she smiles, waving at you and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which somehow renders you speechless.

“hi! how are you?” she greets. her voice is bright and cheery.

you’re already impressed considering no customer has asked how you were today—or at all this week.

(it’s only wednesday, but it still means something to you.)

you smile easily, not a forced one, a genuine smile.

“i’m doing well, and you?”

“great now that i’m here,” she says, her eyes wandering around the mildly cluttered area. “it’s beautiful inside. must be nice working here, i bet.”

“it is.” you respond, “i never get tired of the scenery.”

“who would?” she says sweetly, her eyes molding into crescents as she smiles again. “i can’t believe i haven’t stopped by… i walk pass this place almost everyday.”

“is that so?”

“mhm,” she nods, “it’s on the way to my work.”

“well, feel free to stop by anytime—even if you’re not purchasing.” you assure, “can i help you with anything?”

she nods again. “i wanted to surprise my friend with flowers, but i wanted it to be special. i needed some expert opinions.”

dusting off your apron, you chuckle quietly, “i can help you with that. is there anything you have in mind?”

she shifts her gaze, the expression on her face that signature “i’m thinking” look—like in the movies but somehow more dorky.

“my friend has a strong personality… something bright and vibrant would be good. it matches her.” she begins, then walks over to the marigolds and brushes her finger over a petal, “her birthday is in october, so i looked into her birth flowers too.”

“marigold,” you almost whisper, “you did your research?”

“she’s one of my good friends.” the girl shrugs. “i want to get her something meaningful.”

a warmth spreads through your body, maybe from relief and surprise since this is the first time anyone has put any thought into what they’ve asked you to arrange.

“that’s cute.” you smile, giggling lightly, “your friend is lucky to have you.”

she smiles back—you're unsure if the smile ever left but now she’s smiling at you like that and you could really care less—and you make your way over to some marigolds and cosmos.

“i think, in my opinion, some fall colored flowers and her birth flowers would be good.”

“i trust you, miss…” she trails off, looking at your nametag, squinting at your handwriting, and meeting your eyes again. “miss y/n.”

your name, from that voice of hers and that dorky grin, sends another shiver down your spine.

“i’m glad you have that much faith in me.” you joke.

the girl walks around the shop while you fix up her bouquet. the shop isn’t too big, but enough to fit a wide variety of flowers, excluding the special exceptions that decorate the shop outside. occasionally you’ll glance over at her and she’ll be immersed in observing the flowers. she takes pictures, brushes her fingers over the petals, and appreciates them for the same amount of time until she’s decided to stop at the area where you arrange the gift for her friend.

she simply watches. there’s a curiosity that you catch in her eyes, they seem to add a slight sparkle. she watches until you’re finished with the bouquet, eyes on your nimble fingers fixing each petal and adjusting the position to be just right.

“there we go,” you mumble to yourself. you’re too busy eyeing the flowers from each angle to notice the smile of admiration on the girls lips.

you hand her the bouquet, dusting your apron off and fixing your rolled-up sleeves. she holds the bouquet without saying a word, just staring at you for a few seconds before she stops studying every feature on your face like it’s the last time she’ll see you.

“thank you so much. they’re so beautiful.” she says, sniffing the flowers lightly. “you’re so talented!”

“thank you.” you chuckle, “i’m just doing my job, really. i hope your friend likes them.”

you tap at the screen of the register in front of you, calculating the price of the bouquet and feeling yourself shrink in your spot at the feeling of her gaze. you can’t remember the last time someone made you this nervous—warm in the cheeks, fidgety with your fingers, and an idiot fighting back any awkward rambling. this girl manages to do it without trying and it’s awfully humiliating, but also embarrassingly exciting.

before you can tell her the total of her bouquet, she rids of any professionalism you have with one single comment.

“you smell really good.” she says, earning a raised brow from you. “i hope it’s not weird.” she laughs lightly and it works at easing the tension in your shoulders. you feel yourself relax as she continues, “you smell like… well considering you work here i guess flowers would make sense, but you smell like pear and something refreshing. it’s strong, but not too strong. it’s noticeable—but it’s nice! very nice. sorry.”

“i–” how do you even respond to that? your heart is in your throat because she’s flashing an awkward smile—maybe because she’s realized what she’s said or maybe because it’s just the two of you and the room squeezing in—you mirror her expression and bite the inside of your lip before responding, “it’s jo malone. thank you. i, i um, it was a gift from someone. i really like the way it smells. it pairs well with the jasmine.“

what were you even saying? you want to disappear right then and there right after you say it, but you don’t. you don’t because she’s giggling and pulling out her credit card that’s on her phone screen.

you gulp and add, “oh, yeah— um, your total is twenty-five dollars and seventy cents.”

“jo malone… expensive.” she says as she scans her card. “thank you for everything, by the way. they’re beautiful. i have to stop by again.”

“well, i’ll look forward to it.” the ounce of confidence you have in your body seems to spill from your lips and reach your eyes from the way you’re looking at her. your eyes narrowed just barely while simultaneously softening up just for her. “come by anytime.”

“thank you—” she glances at your nametag once more, then puts her hand on your forearm. you feel like you’re in a simulation and being toyed with, or worse: a romance movie and you’re the desperate fool who’s been chosen as the main character. “---y/n.”

she waves and you wave back, then leaves, making the doorbell ring and even that sounds like something from a movie. the bell has never rung that cheerfully.

—

on your way back home, and for the rest of the week, you think about the girl. you’re an idiot for not asking for her name, so you’ve resulted to calling her “flower girl” for the time being.

your friends are also on to you, catching you smiling to yourself out of nowhere. you tell them you were thinking about the events of the multiple corny couples stumbling into your work, the utter embarrassment you feel from witnessing their pda making you smile, but they never believe it.

if you ever told them about “flower girl,” they’d shred you to pieces—verbally, of course—and poke fun at you for at least a week or two.

what makes it worse is that you’ve been smiling more and thinking more and hoping she’d come back into work, but she doesn’t. a week passes and she still doesn’t, but two days after your one week anniversary of meeting (your friends would seriously tease you to death for what you call it), she shows up again.

the bell rings differently than normal. your ears twitch and you turn your head to see her. your eyes meet hers and so does your smile.

“y/n!” she beams, “happy friday!”

“hi.” you try to sound calm, composed—anything to play cool and hide how delusional you are. “it’s nice to see you again. happy friday.” you greet, continuing on when the silence stretches on for a mere two seconds, “need another bouquet?”

“no, just wanted to browse.” she shrugs.

and so she does, walking around and even crouching to match her level with a few of the shorter flowers. you pretend to go back to work, tending to the flowers and whatnot, really anything to keep yourself from staring at her.

“how have you been?” she asks out of nowhere, catching you by surprise as you water some dandelions.

“oh, i’ve been uh, i’ve been good. and you?”

“great. my friend really liked the flowers, by the way.”

“i’m glad. i was really fond of that arrangement. i thought about it the whole week.” and her, you’ve been thinking about more than just that gorgeous arrangement you completely forgot to get a picture of.

“really? wow, i’m so happy that you liked it as much as i did! gosh, it was so pretty and everyone we met up with was amazed by the vibrant colors and everything. i referred them to you.”

you laugh, fully facing her now after setting down the water can. “thanks for helping out the business. my boss will be thrilled.”

“i hope your boss knows they have the best on their team!”

you laugh again, stepping a little closer to the flowers in front of you. “i’ll let her know, i hope it’ll convince her if it comes from me.” you joke.

she giggles and asks you about the flowers next to her. they’re chrysanthemums, a beautiful shade of yellow. you tell her a brief summary of the meaning, how popular they are, and that there’s a shipment for a different shade. the girl focuses on you the whole time, you catch her eyes scanning each feature of your face unless you specifically point to the flower. you never thought your job would come with the stress of meeting a pretty girl at your workplace who’s oddly eager to talk to you.

“yeah, i really like chrysanthemums, my mom does too. they’re a nice flower, pretty popular.” you shrug, lightly brushing your pointer over the edges of a few petals.

“what are your favorites then?” the girl questions, tilting her head ever so slightly to display her curiosity.

“oh, um.” you think to yourself, then glance around the room.

there’s way too many to count and so many that you admire—which is why you decided to take this part-time job.

you respond with the first two flowers that come to your mind. “lilies and daisies, probably.” you nod.

the girl looks over at the lilies in the room, grinning as she says, “i see why. gosh, the one’s you have here are so pretty.”

“yeah, i take care of them extra nicely.” you admit.

“is that so? i might have to invest in some eventually.”

“i’ll make sure they’re well-kept then.”

“hopefully they’ll be as pretty as the person handling them.”

you blink. a blush blooms over your cheeks and your heartbeat picks up.

before you can respond, she brushes over her compliment and continues, “i really like sunflowers. they’re so pretty, and they’re a classic.” she looks over to the sunflowers near the window. “my friends always compare me to them too.”

“i’m not surprised.” you mutter, and she catches it. her brows raise ever so slightly as if she’s waiting for an explanation. you catch her eyes with yours again while nervously adding, “you’re bright and… nice to look at.”

you swallow shallowly in the next five seconds that pass by without any response from her. you’re hoping she doesn’t notice how you tense your jaw while you try to hold up the composed act, but it’s really hard to keep it up when her lips curl into an even wider smile of amusement.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the door rings suddenly, though not in the cheery tune that follows after your “flower girl” walks in. a couple, one that’s showing way too much affection for your liking, stumbles in and looks around curiously.

a soft sigh leaves your mouth and “flower girl” giggles. she places her hand on your forearm—light and brief, but you’re thinking about it real hard in the two seconds that it happens—then presses her lips together to suppress how giddy she is.

“i have to get going, and i believe you have more company?”

“yeah,” you nearly groan, “excuse me, i have to um, assist them.”

“alright.” she studies the subtle shift of your expression and nods. “i’ll see you again, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.” you respond, watching her brush past the couple and toward the door.

before you make your way to the couple, you pinch your eyes shut and bite the inside of your lip; you forgot to get her name again.

—-

you catch a few of your friends for lunch after a particularly draining shift. there were multiple people that needed help with picking flowers, which wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that most of them were for birthdays.

(it just had to be everyone’s birthday that day—or week.)

sohee, one of your closest friends, sits in front of you and pretends to look innocent after stealing one of your fries. chaewon and soobin giggle at the playful punch you throw at his shoulder, which makes him groan with the stolen fry still in his mouth.

“ask nicely next time.” you warn.

“you’re such a hypocrite! you took the fruit gummies from my apartment literally last—”

“okay? are you saying you want me to be malnourished? wow…”

“but—

“no.” you quickly shut him down while simultaneously trying to fight back a laugh. “you’re a man, you can’t be doing all that.”

chaewon rolls her eyes at your antics, then steals a fry without a complaint coming from you. soobin chuckles and sohee looks at all of you defeatedly.

throughout the rest of lunch you all catch-up with what’s been going on through the week. sohee’s been trying to convince his roommate to invest in a mini-fridge and chaewon groans as she explains how she’s been considering taking an extra class the next semester.

and while soobin goes over his chaotic month, you start smiling to yourself as you accidentally tune out his voice. your thoughts shift over to your encounter with “flower girl” two days ago.

it’s incredibly odd how you’re eager to clock in to work now. it’s not that you hated your job, you truly loved it, but the customers were always iffy. now, you have something to look forward to, someone to keep yourself going when it’s slow or dreadful on certain days.

chaewon flicks your forehead, snapping you out of a replay of her hand on your forearm.

“what the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, “did you hear what soobin just said?”

“uh,” absolutely nothing had processed in the past minute. “sorry.”

soobin nudges your shoulder. “damn… so you hate me.”

“well, yes.” you joke. “sorry, ‘binnie, i was just… thinking about work.”

“i thought you hated your job…?” he responds.

sohee joins in, “yeah, you were just complaining to the group chat about a couple that forgot to stop making out when you came back with their bouquet.”

“oh my god, i forgot about that, ugh… and that was literally a month ago.” the memory makes you cringe. “and no i do not hate my job! i love it.”

“something is up then.” sohee says, pointing at you dramatically. “what’s up with work? did something happen? is this why you’ve been so… giddy?”

“giddy?” you try to laugh off his accusation. “it’s not— i– it’s nothing!”

“she stuttered,” chaewon points out.

“that doesn’t mean shit!” you groan, “i’ve just… okay, works been better. look, there’s this new regular. she’s kind of a regular.”

“oh my god, this girl must be cute then.” soobin chuckles, raising his brows at you. “what, you’ve got yourself some type of flower girl?”

you’re baffled that he somehow read your mind and matched frequencies enough to know that you also call her flower girl. you want to scold him for jumping to the conclusion that you’re happier at work because of a pretty girl—but he’s quite on point, so you can’t really defend yourself.

“oh my god she’s blushing,” sohee mumbles, laughing with chaewon.

“oh shut up i hate you guys.” you groan, “she’s just nice and actually talks to me. i mean yeah she’s gorgeous but that’s not even the point. she’s different than usual customers and… i guess it’s a nice change.”

“so you want her,” soobin says before sipping on his tea. “pretty girl vs. y/n and she’s already losing.”

“i—”

okay maybe he’s right, but you’d never admit that.

the rest of lunch consists of you getting teased until the topic switches into chaewon talking about kazuha and sakura, who have apparently been way too loud when playing video games late at night. soobin, however, manages to throw in one more teasing comment before you all depart, which earns a few more remarks from chaewon throughout the car ride home.

“everything used to soil your mood,” soobin’s words replayed in your mind over and over, “seems like this ‘flower girl’ is making you bloom.”

his words were corny mainly because it was him saying it, but he wasn’t wrong. and it doesn’t help that chaewon keeps telling you that she supports whatever you have going on, saying that you’re “not as cranky” and “smiling like an idiot all the time.”

you blush the whole way home thinking about her and it’s ridiculous. this girl that’s shown up twice has you malfunctioning even outside of work.

—

“y/n, could you grab the shipments from the back? i unloaded them, they just need to be restocked. it’s a few boxes, nothing much.” your boss asks.

“yeah, sure.” you respond, immediately heading to the back and looking around for the boxes she mentioned.

you have exactly one hour until work ends and the only thing on your mind is a nice big lunch since you only had time to eat a banana for breakfast. you feel the energy leaving your body as you carry the boxes, guessing they’re mainly seeds and supplies for the bouquets. the boxes shfit and a subtle sound hints that there’s some pots for people who end up buying something to display their flowers.

with a light thud, you place the boxes on the counter in the front and find the box cutter nearby. just as you suspected—there are a few packets of seeds, tools, and pots inside that you pull out and start restocking.

but in the corner of your eye you catch two people conversing outside. you’d brush it off if it weren’t for the fact that one of them was flower girl, who’s talking to your boss while pointing at the tulips.

your heart beats faster in your chest and a surge of urgency to finish restocking.

you jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder not too long later. turning your head, you catch your manager grinning at you.

“hey, i’ve got the rest. there’s a customer that you should help.” she tells you, but the look in her eyes screams something mischievous.

you nod, setting the pot in your hand back into the box before turning to meet the same big brown eyes that never fail to light up your day.

“y/n!”

“flower girl,” you mutter, though very quietly, just under your breath. “hi,” you greet, clear and professionally.

“how are you?” she asks, and it flows like last time; conversation with her is light and easy to ease into.

you tell her it’s a little slower today considering it’s tuesday, and you even drop a little “i’m glad you’re here to keep some brief company,” which earns a smile and a “i find stopping by the highlight of my week, it’s nothing.”

now you’re both trying not to blush and it’s impossible. it’s impossible because you notice that shade of blush she has on matches the carnations that you had to fix up yesterday. and on her end, she can’t help but notice that your hair is a little messier than usual, which adds to how cute she thinks you are.

you two converse in between her questions about flowers. she finds your anecdotes about each and every one interesting, interesting enough that she asks,

“hey, what are you doing later today?”

the question catches you off guard. “oh, um. probably nothing… maybe i’ll go on a walk or visit a friend… i don’t know… why do you ask?”

you can’t curb the blush that heats your face, so you pray it’s not noticeable.

“well, i’m off today and my schedule is pretty empty… i was hoping you’d let me pencil you in?”

you giggle at her response, hoping your manager doesn’t hear any of it because she’s also one to tease you like crazy.

“i’d… yeah, i’d like that.” you sound like an idiot. your mind runs in circles and your heart beats faster than it usually does—even faster than the time she (you’d hope) flirted with you. “i um, i get off in less than an hour… i hope you don’t mind waiting.”

she bites the inside of her lip and it feels like it’s just the two of you in the shop, with daisies sprouting around (metaphorically speaking, of course) to feed the fire that burns in your chest.

“that’s perfect. do you like sandwiches?”

“i love them.”

“perfect. there’s a place not too far that i love—”

“down the block near the park?”

“yes! how did you—?”

“i go there all the time.” wow, this is perfect, you think to yourself. “we could grab lunch… maybe walk around…?”

she laughs and your whole body relaxes.

“you’re really cute, you know?”

“i think you’re cuter.” you say without thinking. “and i feel unbelievably stupid that i’ve been calling the cute girl that stops by every week ‘flower girl.’ my friends keep teasing me because i never got your name.”

“you talk to me about your friends?’ she questions with a growing smirk.

“i— maybe.”

“well, i’m glad i’m not the only one.”she breaks eye contact to look at the ground bashfully. “my friends have been… trying to help me build up the courage to ask you out.”

“really?”

“mhm.” she nods.

“well, i’d love to tell my friends more about you…” you trail off, remembering that you don’t even know her name.

“if i give you my name… would you give me your number?” she asks cheekily.

you chuckle. “i’ll consider it.”

her hand brushes the petal of a flower nearby—a pink hibiscus—before saying, “my name is danielle.”

“danielle,” her name trickles off your tongue with curiosity and wonder. her name isn’t uncommon, but it’s beautiful and a perfect fit for someone bright like her.

her smile grows along with yours.

“i guess i should give you my number then, danielle.” you test the way her name sounds coming from you and are just as content the second time around. it’s better than flower girl, but that’s not stopping you from calling her that again and again in the future.

“i’d need your number just in case i want to see you again,” she says with a light-hearted, teasing tone. “just in case you charm me well enough.”

“i’ll do my best then, flower girl.”

#kpop x reader #newjeans x reader #danielle marsh #njz x reader #newjeans danielle #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye

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juliettejwnewinesa · 1 month ago

Text

Title: "Stay With Me"

Baek Jin x Reader (Weak Hero Class 2)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last fight nearly pushed him over the edge.

Baek Jin was reckless — always had been — but tonight, he had taken it too far. You had heard the whispers at school, seen the bruises on his face, the blood staining his knuckles. He'd told you he had it under control. That he'd walk away this time.

But Baek Jin never walked away.

When you found him outside your apartment, leaning against the wall like his body couldn’t hold itself up anymore, something inside you snapped.

“You said you were done,” you hissed, dragging him inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, breathing hard, eyes glazed with exhaustion and something else — something darker.

“You promised me, Baek Jin.”

Finally, he looked at you. “I couldn’t let them talk about you like that.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“They said you were just another weakness. I couldn’t let them—” His voice cracked, but he bit it down, fists clenched. “No one gets to say your name like that.”

You hated him for it. Hated how he always chose violence over everything else. But you also hated how your heart fluttered when he said your name like it belonged to him.

“Idiot,” you whispered.

He took a step forward, and suddenly the space between you was suffocating.

“Are you going to scold me all night?” he muttered, his voice rough, eyes dark and heavy.

“You deserve it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, his hand cupped your face, fingers trembling from exhaustion, from holding back. You hated how soft he became with you, how his walls crumbled when you touched him.

But tonight, something was different.

He held you too tight.

His lips brushed yours like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed you more than air. And you let him, because you knew — tonight he was holding himself together with scraps.

And then... you felt it.

You froze as his body pressed closer, hard and desperate against you, tangled in the oversized hoodie you made him wear after cleaning him up. You heard his breath catch, saw the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes.

“Jin…” you whispered, flustered.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you teased softly, even though your face was burning.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck, voice hoarse and broken. “Like I’m some horny loser who can’t control himself because it’s you.”

You felt him twitch against you, and you bit your lip, fighting back a smile. “Maybe you are.”

“You’re evil,” he muttered, but his hands gripped your waist tighter, like he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to.

You leaned close to his ear, voice dangerously soft. “Then stop holding back.”

Baek Jin’s breath stuttered. “You’re the worst.”

You smiled against his skin. “You love it.”

And maybe he did.

Because that night, tangled up in your sheets, bruises still fresh on his body, Baek Jin held you like you were the only thing keeping him from breaking.

And neither of you said a word about it the next morning — but the way he wrapped his arms around you tighter when you tried to leave told you everything you needed to know.

He was yours. And you? You were his weakness — the only one he’d never give up.

#weak hero class #weak hero class 1 #weak hero fanfic #smut #cute #fluff #beakjin #weak hero smut #weak hero angst #weak hero #weak hero x reader #weak hero class two #weak hero class one #weak hero webtoon #beakjin x yn #beakjin smut

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nemesyaaa · 6 months ago

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ain't nobody business // classmate!rafe cameron x mean!popular! reader

summary ; your classmate was too obssessed with you...but you were also too cool to care about him....only at first....

warnings ; 18+ smut plot. verbal violence. oral(f&m receiving). public masturbation. sub!rafe (simp obssessed and loser). nosebleeding so kind of blood. spitting. pervy behavior/needy depraved attitude. light praising. weird obssession. minors dni. be aware of the warnings before reading please.

author's note : none.

pervy classemate!rafe who's always been your biggest simp. not only had he always been a simp when it came to you, but he was totally sick and completely depraved. he was the very definition of the word pervert in its most terrible sense. he never missed a single class where you were present because he was completely obsessed with the idea of being close to you, of sharing the same space as you. he loved to hum the air you breathed because your scent was the one that intoxicated him. he was constantly at the back of the class and you were only a few feet away. he was a pathetic gooner who knew he had no chance with popular chicks like you. your standards were — too fucking high. you were the kook princess, too classy, too hot, too perfect, the mean girl out of his league.

then, he was never presentable.

you didn't necessarily notice it because you liked to ignore the existence of your fan. but he was constantly looking at you, his blue eyes glued to every one of your moves. he was like a stalker, watching you from afar in the hallways as you walked through the crowd with your group of friends. you were the prettiest of them all, your hair was always clean and neat, your face soft and made up, your lips covered in gloss and your mouth chewing a bubblegum. you always wore skimpy outfits because it was always horribly hot even inside the school.

he was desperately waiting for you to burst into his line of vision, his hand already stuck in his pants. his locker wasn't far from yours. there were photos of you and accessories belonging to you inside. everything you thought you throw away, he would get it back. he had a huge collection about it.

he was too freaking weird and lame — kind of the pervy freak your girlfriends make fun of it. the kind of losers that upset you and made you roll your eyes when he was staring or talking to you. the kind of idiots that was always in your fucking way instead of getting lost somewhere you didn't care.

but despite your mean and cold attitude toward him, rafe was always so eager to see you.

out of the pathetic man he was, rafe cameron was big. even when his dick was limp in his boxer, a fat bulge was outlining the fabric of his underwear. when you were in the same room as him, he always felt the need to palm himself, literally stroking his aching cock through his pants as you took a seat. it was crazy because your back was only shown to him but his dick was already growing in his grip, the veins of his length bulging thick against his touch.

he was getting harder every time he heard your chuckles. and god,when you wrapped that pen between your glossy lips, he just wanted to force his fat dick against the gap of your mouth, watching you struggle to take him with those pretty eyes of yours rolling in the back until he’s crying and his tip leaking on your favorite lipstick. the way you swirl your tongue around the hood, leaving a trickle of drool webbing from your lips to the pen while you pretended to think, sweet moans escaping your lips as you fixed your mini skirt was too much for him.

you were such a bitch.

you probably didn't know it, and it was one of his many dirty secrets, but he had a sex doll in his room that looked exactly like you and that he fucked every time he came home. he was a premature ejaculator but above all compulsive. you could be sure that this doll was fucked ten times in a row until he was out of breath, sweaty and stinking, until his hair and sheets were drenched in sweat and juices with his muscles drained and body shaking under painfully spasms. when he had to jerk off, he didn't need to go to pornsites, he just needed to open your insta page. and it was even better when you posted stories because you were always half naked in them. he masturbated until his screen was covered in hot and thick spurts, his liquid hiding your face.

he was such a dreamer and you were such a fantasy.

one time, you were in physics class in this lab-like class and you were across from him. he spent the whole time looking at your cleavage. his eyes were deep down on your boobs. but he was also suffered from a painful boner that you were aware about, but was ironically under your control.

“ want a picture of them, cameron ? ” you said with exasperation. “ because you're never gonna touch them. never in your life so stop watching. ”

he knew it. losers like him didn't stand a chance with girls like you and that was what made him even hornier.

sick.

the slightest contact with you was enough to ignite him. and telling him that he had no chance of touching you or going out with you made his cock bigger.

" god, you're pathetic. ” you muttered before sitting next to him. “did you pee your pants ? you've got a stain. ” you whispered in his ear. “ i know what you are, cameron.”

but you were in a good mood today, so you wrote on a paper.

— meet me in the girls' bathroom upstairs. (I know how much you love this place. I'm even sure you have lots of photos of me in the cabins.)

you kissed him on the cheek. as you were looking down on him, he just gasped while swallowing hard as you were laughing out loud with your girlfriends.

you were waiting for him in the bathroom after class. it didn't take long for him to arrive. you had locked both of you in a cabin. he barely had time to open his mouth when you were already pulling down his pants to give him a blowjob.

his boxer was wet and covered with dried cum. it was so gross and god so disgusting. you couldn't believe yourself that you were about to do this.

“are yo..."

“Be quiet, Cameron. or i might kill you. ”

“ Please, you turn me on. ” he pleaded with a hard breath.

his dick was fat and hard, literally twitching under your touch as you tried to not think too much. he was already whimpering like a crybaby when you hadn't even touched him yet.

he was in heaven. you were like a goddess for him.

“ You really don't deserve me. and not even what i'm going to do to you. So you better not screw that moment because it's gonna be the first and last time a girl gonna ever touch you in your shitty life. ”

as soon as you touched it, his stomach clenched. you were so kind to do that for him. you only thought of yourself. your fingers moved speed around his shaft while his balls slapped against his muscular thighs in motion. he was hard since this morning, so it was hurting him so bad, to the point he was terribly miserable and unsteady, just waiting for your touch since he watched you this morning in the hallways.

he was shaky and breathy, drooling and moaning like a slut. and it was also ironic too because you were supposed to be the whore in general. but rafe cameron was one of the biggest bitch you ever seen.

he was a kook but he was so shitty.

“ i said be quiet. ” you ordered with a firm voice, tired of his whines. “ since you struggle to listen to me, i'm gonna put this in your mouth. better hold it tight with your teeth because if i hear another sound from you, i gonna take those high heels that you love to see me with and step on your dick with it. understand ? yea, i can give you real reasons to be noisy. "

you took off your underwear to stuff it in his mouth. you had hooked it tightly enough behind his head to keep him from dropping it.

when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, you felt him shudder as you began to suck him gently. you moved your mouth as far as possible until you felt his girth at the back of your throat. you had pushed your mouth to take all his inches, making in it fit between your lips. you were now full stuffed with his cock that was throatfucking you senseless.

you were licking and sucking, giving him the blowjob of his life. he started to foaming at the mouth over your panties, his drool dripping from his chin to the raging dick that filled you.

you were literally taking the saliva he was raining over you, giving no shit at this point. when he began to move his hips, guiding the pace while fucking your throat, and you let him do as he was driving himself between your lips. a hand was tangled in your hair, getting them messy. your tongue was so soft, the sweetest he ever felt.

his lower tummy was twitching, abs flexing deep to the feeling you gave him. a sloppy head that made him cum so fast, coating your lips with a splash of sperm, as he held the back of your neck, forcing you to gag over the fat length. you were still hot, but messy. your vision was blurred and your face was covered with his drop of white loads, and streams of saliva. mascara was dripping from your eyes, your lipstick was smudging on your cheeks and his cock, your mouth was damping with drool and small bubbles connected to his sticky soaked tip.

you sucked him again and he came five minutes later inside your throat. after that, he had stuck two fingers down your mouth. it was as if the roles had reversed for a moment because you were now his whore.

he had started to thrust in and out, free-using your cavity while you took his fingers deep in your mouth. they were big and wet, making you gurgle terribly. his digits felt even more thicker inside you. he was brushing them against your tongue, forcing you to take them and lick them until they were nice and clean.

when he was satisfied, you had collected your panties, getting ready to leave. “please, die now. it's so embarrassing for me. ” you looked down and your eyes widened. “i don't mean that to see you being even bigger, cameron. you're such a trash. ”

“ please, can i touch you ? ” he was whimpering to your ears.

“ think you deserve it ? ” you answered. “ because no, you can't. ”

he was under you, his grip so weak around your naked thigh, while he was pleading under his breath.

he was staring at you with desperate eyes that you agreed. “ but you're not gonna touch me. you're gonna watch only. you understand ? ”

he nodded, before getting on his knees. you took a seat in the cabin, and spread your legs, skirt on your knuckles. his hand was already on his cock, the tip leaking on the floor, as you opened your thighs wider to watch him losing his mind fully on the sight of your gleaming pussy.

you hate yourself for being so soaked that wetness was running down your skin. rafe was now jerking himself off, his heavy and shaky breathing escaping his lips. you had brought fingers against your pussy after having moistened them then you had started to play with your lower lips with your hand before starting to caress yourself. your legs were feverish because you had already shoved three fingers inside you.

rafe was obsessed. you managed to drive him crazy, to dehumanize him. he had lost control when you added another finger, making it seem like you could fit the whole hand. you were so naughty, but your moans were so sweet. then the way you squirmed as you fingered yourself made him sick and perverted. “ easy pretty, you can't cum before me. ”

but he couldn't take it anymore, he had soaked his hands from touching himself so much while he watched you fucked yourself with your fingers. “ c-can…i cum..please…” he was breathless, mouth running like a pup, eyes filled with tears as his hands were trembling over his throbbing dick. “ n-need…it…! ”

“ it's all you got, baby ? i'm disappointed. looks like someone doesn't really want to cum…” you teased, still playing with your insides.

he knew he was stupid but you made him even dumber. when it came to you, he had nothing in his head, no self-esteem, no dignity. your fingers worked hard in your insides. the wet sounds of your digits going back and forth in your plushy canal as he was stroking himself harder. his fingers were in rhythm with yours, matching the way they were moving in your pussy.

you were like a movie star. a fucking porn star. the one he's dreamed about in the dark of his room.

your cunt was clenching over your fingers, sliding in and out of the wetness that came from your walls. but you continued to push them deeper and deeper to bring you close. you feel your hips lifted up, your legs trembling and you find yourself on your tiptoes as you reach your digits further in your swollen cunt. rafe couldn't help himself, and moved from your place to lick at your pussy when your fingers were still inside you. he was eating you out at , tongue sticking at your drooling slit that he was lapping while golden stars were taking you away from reality. he was so needy, the way his voice was breaking into your pretty cunt. he spreaded your folds way with his tongue, lapping through the needy hole before starting to make sloppy licks. you could feel his heavy nose rubbing against your clit, stroking it gently as he was lapping and stretching your canal.

you had to admit, he was good and if you didn't have so much ego you would let him know. but instead, you let him continue, the weight of his tongue shoving inside you, forcing you to squirm as he tickled your sensitive bud with his face. he was thrusting in and out, letting you leak your juices on his chin.

he was so deep in the thing, twirling his tongue to feel all your insides, driving his mouth so deep that he could not miss the spot, hanging his jaw open to let your wetness drip down his chin.

he was about to pass out, living the dream of his life with you. the way your pulsing clit was rushing into his fat nose making him nuzzle stronger , slow back and forth to messy rubs. all your pussy was now so tough on him, stroking him harder, forcing him to gasp and wimps. you didn't make it stop because you were too selfish to care about what he felt.

his mouth was working on your slit, as your clit was still evilly running the sensitive spot of his nose, getting it all wet and red until you heard a small crack from the pressure. his nose was now bleeding but that didn't stop him from pleasuring you. he was still eating at your cunt, metallic taste added to the sweet of your hole. after a wild minute, his entire face was coated with blood and seeds as he cried harder, his hands tugging the skin of your hips.

his nose was bleeding against your bud, as a line of the red liquid was trailing over the opening of your cunt making a way to his driving tongue. he was buried inside your whole sucking you to depth with blood foaming under his teeth — so close to bleed into your folds.

when you exploded, his tongue still fucking you, he had been so quick to swallow it all.

“ it's not gonna happen twice…” you muttered, still a little dizzy. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll find you and kill you. And please, take a fucking shower, Cameron. ”

“ It's Rafe. ”

“ I know your name. I just don't care about it. ” you replied with a sigh. “ Now, i'm leaving. Stop, gooning yourself. It's so gross. ”

You began to walk away but you wanted to add something more.

“ Did you understand ? Nod your head…”

You smiled when he obeyed.

“Good boy, aren’t you Rafe ? ” you replied while gently slapping his heated cheek, before squeezing both of them between your fingers. “ You definitely are.” you said, watching his face blushing under your touch.

“ Y-y-es…”

“ So you will do anything for me…? ” You asked with a smile on your lips.

He nodded again.

Anything you wanted. Absolutely anything.

“ Fine…i'm gonna give you what you want. ”

“ What do you mean ? ”

“ That i'm gonna use you until i'm tired of you. It's my turn to have fun. But it will stay a secret between us of course. This is my number, and i better find you all submissive when i call you. ”

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aur0ral1ghts · 3 months ago

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ᴍɪɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ დ

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴀss.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; ᴍɪɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ. (ᴅᴜʜ.) ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ғʟᴜғғ. ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ.

Mattheo Riddle has always had an interest for Y/n, the way she would scoff during arguments, or the way she would flip her h/c hair. He would always find a way to insult her. He loved the way her cheeks would get all red and flustered as she spat out an insult back. He gained a small obsession with Y/n. He wanted to ruin her and destroy her in every way possible. At every given chance, he would tease her until she snaps. One time, Y/n ended up slapping Mattheo out of anger. He couldn't help but smirk once he felt her hand slap him across the face. He didn't even wince at the pain.

"Mattheo Riddle!" Y/n calls out as she stomps angrily towards him. He turns around, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Yes?" He smiles innocently. "Did you steal my homework!" She yells, standing in front of him. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." His smile turns into a smirk. "I spent 2 days writing that assignment. What did you do with it!?" She asks, obersving his facial expressions. "I may have burnt it for fun." He admits. "Are you fucking serious?" I groan. "What? It was fun to burn." He shrugs, looking down at her. Then he felt it. A slap across his face, his cheek turning red, his face burning, but he didn't care. He couldn't help but smirk. "You'll pay for this!" She yells before walking off. Mattheo watches as she walks away, his hand still on his cheek.

Y/n hated Mattheo Riddle. Even though they had mutual friends, she couldn't stand him. She couldn't stand his annoying smirk. She couldn't stand his stupidly high ego and how hot he just had to be. She hated how she had memorized every single scar on his face she absolutely hated it. So she pushed down her feelings deep deep down and never gave them a second thought. He would always find a way to pick on Y/n for every one of her flaws, whenever if it's her grades, potion making skills, or her hair, he always found a way to make fun of her hair, even though Mattheo secretly loved it. He imagined himself laying in bed with you, playing with your long waist length hair.

Mattheo Riddle and Y/n had a whole lot of tension between them. Every time they would argue, the tension between them were undeniable. Even their friends have realized. Mattheos friends, Theodore Nott, and Blasie Zabini, two of his closet friends since childhood, placed a bet. They betted that on the end of their 7th year, they would get together. Theodore betted around 100 gallons that they would get together. Blaise also betted 100 gallons that they weren't getting together. Even the teachers noticed their tension. So much, in fact, Professor McGonagall had placed their seats together.

"Y/n?" Mattheo whispers. "What?" She hisses back. "Can I borrow a quill?" He asks, leaning back in his seat. "No, get your own." She replies back. "You suck." He scoffs. "You suck more." Y/n says, writing down some notes. "Mr. Riddle, Miss Y/n!" McGonagall suddens yells, Mattheo flinchs a bit. "Huh?" Y/n says. "If you two coutine to flirt with one another, I may have to give you two both a detention." She spits. "Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again." Y/n chuckles awkwardly. Mattheo doesn't apologize. He just nods. "Very well then." She answers. "You idiot, you almost got me detention, I've never had detention before!" She whispers in a voice only he can hear. "You never had detention before? Loser." He whispers back. Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, she just scoffs before finishing her notes.

I wake up with a giant yawn, I check my alarm clock next to my bed. I thank muggles every day for inventing clocks. It's almost time for classes, I usually skip breakfast since I'm usually never hungry in the mornings, and plus, it gives me an extra hour of sleep. My roommate and best friend, Pansy Parkinson is the same. I look to my left and see Pansy sleeping, her butt stuck up in the air, her arm hanging off the bed, her hair extremely messy. She always has the worst cases of bed head. "Pansy!" I say, trying to wake her up, knowing she would kill me if I didn't wake up her. "Whatttt." She replies back, her voice cranky. "Get up, we have classes soon!" I say, getting out of bed myself. "Oh shit-" She says, practically falling out of bed. I giggle. "Shut up idiot." She jokes. I head to my bathroom, washing my face with cold water as it helps to wake me up in the mornings. I do my usual routine, brushing my hair, which takes me around 5 minutes to do. I can't be bothered to do a ponytail or a bun or anything, so I leave it down. I usually don't . I wear my hair down like twice a month or so. I curl my lashes, putting some mascara on them. Then I do my other makeup steps. I head to my closet and grab my uniform.

After around 15 minutes, I'm ready. "Pansy, are you ready to go?" I ask. "Not yet, but just go on without me, I have Potions first, so I should be fine." She says. Since the Slytherin common room and dormitorys are in the duegon, it doesn't take that long to walk to Potions class. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for me, I had a history of magic first, which was upstairs. I had always hated history of magic, I mean, i enjoyed the subject, but definitely not the teacher. Professor Binns had this very slow paced voice. And he wasn't very good at explaining the subject. He would never interact with his students. He never asked them questions or their opinions. It also didn't help when he randomly assigned random essays due at the end of the week. History of magic was also one of my worst grades.

I grab my history of magic textbooks on the subject we're currently learning about. I walk out of our dormitory, waving Pansy goodbye, knowing we'll see each other at lunch.

Another reason why I hate history of magic is because I have to sit with Mattheo Riddle.

I walk in history of magic to see Y/n sitting down at our seat at the back of the class. I've always liked sitting at the back of class since the teachers can't really hear conversations from the front, especially Binns. His hearing isn't the best since he is a ghost.

I pretend I don't see Y/n as I begin to walk towards our seat, I look down at my shoes before looking at Y/n and sitting down. Her hair is down today. I always liked her with her hair down. Her hair is so long her hair reaches down to her chair. "L/n" I greet. "Riddle." She replies back, looking at me, before looking away, fidgeting with her quill. I can tell my presence makes her nervous. I sit down, making sure my knee makes content with hers. She quickly pulls her knee away. Then Binns floats in, sitting down in his dusty seat.

"Ahem." He says quietly.

I watch as Mattheo walks in the room. He looks around before walking to our seat. I let out a shakey breath as he sits down, his knee touching me. I pull mine away as I fidget with my quill. Then Professor Binns comes into the room, floating towards his desk. I snap out of my trance, pulling out my parchment paper. Mattheo begins to bop his leg up and down. I can't focus. I can barely focus in the first place when he's next to me. He's so close to me I can practically feel his hot breath on me. I pretend I'm not bothered by this and coutine writing my notes. But I can't help but get this feeling that he's staring at me. I slowly look to my side to see him staring deep into my soul. My head is slightly pounding. I can't tell if it's because I have a headache or this forced proximity.

"Have a staring problem, Riddle?" I scoff, looking up at him. "Something like that." He mutters. I look away, trying my best to focus, but I have this constant ringing throughout my head. I can still feel him staring at me, I wonder if I have anything on my face? I nonchalantly placed my hand on my face to try to rub anything off of it, but nothing. I wonder why he's staring? Maybe he thinks I'm pretty, i mean, i doubt it.. but I wouldn't be upset. In fact, i would be glad.

I do think you're pretty, gorgeous, in fact.

A voice pops into my head. What the hell was that? I most definitely did not think that at all -

"Mattheo, did you say something?" I ask, looking at him. "No?" He says innocently. His puppy dog eyes looking at me. "Oh, never mind then.." I say with a hint of embrassment. Did I bang my head or something? Why am I hearing voices. Maybe I'm insane - I wouldn't be surprised if I was insane. I bet Mattheo thinks I'm also insane.

You are insane.

This time, I jerk my head to Mattheo. He's peacefully listening to the listen, an amused look on his face. "Mattheo Riddle!" I whisper. "What?" He says. "I heard that - I'm not insane!" I reply back, pointing a finger at him.

"Y/n, are you feeling alright? Do you need to be taken down to the hospital wing, I can take you there if you want." He asks, a smile on his smug face.

"I'm not crazy- I heard you in my head!" I say. "That sounds pretty insane to me." He shrugs. "You're not helping!" I exclaim, slamming my hands on the desk. Gosh! Why did Mattheo have to be like this, so annoying, so infuriating, so cute - wait no. Not cute, definitely not cute!

You think i'm cute

The same voice hums in my head. I groan in frustration. Then an idea pops into my head, I doubt it'll work but it's worth a shot.

Mattheo?

I think to myself.

Yes, Love?

My lips part as I look over at him, he makes eye contact with me, but his expression doesn't change.

How..are you doing that..?

Magic

His voice echos throughout my head.

Haha, very funny

I reply back.

I know i am.

I scoff, fidgeting with my quill.

Sooo, you think im cute..?

No! No i don't.

I protest, even though I'm lying.

Your thoughts a few minutes ago says otherwise.

Shut up Riddle, practically everyone thinks you're cute, but that surely doesn't excuse your high ego.

So, you think I'm cute?

He hums, his voice has a tone of amusement.

Okay, fine! You're cute. Whatever.

Good, because I think you're cute aswell.

My jaw practically drops, Mattheo Riddle thinks I'm cute?

Then images of me and Mattheo passionately making out behind a pillar, his hands roaming all over my body.

Mattheo, what the fuck!

We both know you want this.

He's right, I do want this. I want this more than anything. My breath hitches.

Your right Mattheo, I do want this.

Good. Meet me after class, no excuses.

I don't reply, but instead, I just nod. Suddenly, more images of us together flash my mind, Mattheo slams me against the wall, his hands all over my body, as he kisses me roughly. I feel a warm feeling within my stomach, I check the clock, fifteen minutes left, I don't know if I can wait any longer. My leg bobs up and down. I then feel a hand on my thigh, I look down to see Mattheos' hand placed on my thigh. His hand caresses my thigh. I shift in my seat, butterflies flooding my lower stomach.

After 15 minutes, Binns dismisses us, Mattheo instantly gets up, collects his stuff, and practically runs out of the class. I usually take my time. I look down at my notes. The only thing written down is my name and the title and one single sentence. I let out a frustrated groan, this better have been worth it.

I collect my books, I hold them up to my chest as I walk out. I look around to see Mattheo behind a pillar - similar to the one in the images, smoking a cigarette, he holds the cigarette against his lips as he spots me. I awkwardly walk towards him.

"Hi, Mattheo." I greet him.

"Hi, Y/n." He greets back, throwing the cigarette on the ground and stomping on it with his shoe.

I walk closer to him. He looks me up and down, I'm so close to him i can feel his body heat. "Drop the books, L/n." He demands, and so i do. He pulls me in by my school tie and smashes his lips onto mine. His lips still taste like cigarettes. Just like the images, his hands roam all around my body, tracing every detail of it. I cup his cheek as he lets out a soft whimper. My heart melts at this.

"Y/n, skip class with me. Come to my dorm, please." He asks, I nod, grabbing his hand.

You can probably guess what happend at his dormitory.

A/n; I love this. Click this link to learn more about me/request info.

Click this for my masterlink.

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runraerun · 4 months ago

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Courage, You Little Shit

Written by me! Beta’d by DeeDeeTrick & @dame-zoom-a-lot, & with art by @sillysparrow! 💝 We were team #008 for the @eddiemunsonbigbang. Hope you enjoy!

Rated: M | 15k | Warnings in ao3 notes | Tags: Gay Pining, Slight Miscommunication, Eddie Munson has goblin boy energy, Jocks dating Nerds trope, Unathletically inclined Eddie, Athletically inclined Steve Harrington, Self Conscious Eddie Munson, Himbo Steve Harrington, Cringe Fail Loser Eddie Munson (affectionate), Fail Dating (until it isn’t), Situational Humour, Happy Ending.

Summary:

Upon learning Eddie hasn’t been sleeping well post-Vecna, Steve makes it his mission to take Eddie out on various, exhausting excursions in an attempt to tire him out. And Eddie, who’s consistently played hooky from every gym class he’s been enrolled in since middle school, begrudgingly accepts. Why? Because he’s got a big, fat, embarrassing crush on Harrington, that’s why. Also, he’s an idiot.

Or, when jocks date nerds and their worlds inevitably collide.

#Eddie Munson big bang 2025 #EMBB #EMBB2025 #Eddie Munson big bang #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson centric #fanfic #Steddie fanfic #Steddie fanfiction #my writing #write Rae write #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #Steddie fanart #stranger things fanart #fanart

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gridgamesgalore · 2 months ago

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slektufog takeover !!! /silk /slektufog

i justr wanna let bring someting to ur atenton [ if u havent already heard ] that I recently misspelled /silly as /slektufog once ♡♡♡♡ hey guys !! what is a slektufog

SAVED!!! SAVED IMAGE OH MY GHRLP

wha IS a slektufog.. A. What a what now.. /silk /what the mustsrd /speaking of mustard I HATE MUSTARD!!! Ew ew gross gross gROSS!!! who eats mustard 💔💔

#I think i made slektufog stand for silly like eating korean tacos under forty olive glasses ♡♡♡#also i hate mustard [ and ketchup ] aswell like how do people eat condiments on their wha #prev tags ->#Are we finally making Seven a pathetic loser despite his luck #which is literally the main thing he's known for #Gwahj..#(Also completely unrelated (literally everything I've said so far has been unrelated) but ➡️#I'm making a One and Two gijinka design soon !!! Yes I did not have them before yes I did cook up the fastest meal on my Three gijink durin #during the collab BECAUSE I NEVER HAD A GIJINKA DESIGN TO BEGIN WITH SO I WAS ALL LIKE oh shit #and now I just really want to make One n Two designs so!!! Yeah!!!!#creeper confessions actuallyactually #I yapped too much oh noe 💔💔💔 /silly #<- yes seven is a pathetic loser idiot ♡♡♡ trust im the dozenal 7x table [ I am still waiting .. ]#also YAYA !! one and two gijinks !!! [ i literally only have a one gijink and I started on a tree gijink like last year but never #- finished it cause class and stuff [ two was also supposed to be there aswell ] so like .. I justr .. donr have gijinks of them ??#dek reality check STOP GET OUT MY HEAD GO AWAY DEK 💔/SLEKTUFOG #also it oka if u yap I liek reading people's tweakouts ♡♡♡ [ although most of time I donr how to respond cause EVIL VOCAB !! ]#djxikckrkekfjejcn #euaagughhhh #love it! ♥️

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s-4pphics · 4 months ago

Text

the art of chasing. (e.w.) part I.

synopsis: how to: lose a lover.

word count: 9.5K

warnings: bratbaby!ellie who’s a math prodigy :), baby!oc who’s not but craves approval, SARAH IS ALIVE, mentions of: ANGST, time jump, joel is everyone’s dad — adoption, dead parents, narc parenting, internalized homophobia, outward homophobia, enemies to ?, idiots to ?, alcoholism, ellie’s a hopeless romantic, so is oc but she doesn’t know it, rebellious teenagers, FLUFF :)

a/n: heyyy. this idea came to me very randomly in january and i’ve been drafting it since then. it’s a two parter with a possible intermission but idk we’ll see. also, i hit 4k followers? thanks THE FAWK?

BYEEE

Since age ten, you’ve hated Ellie Williams.

You were naive like most children; too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to manage, running amuck and causing any wreckage you could with your pudgy little hands. You lived to explore, much to your father’s dismay. He’s a stickler with too much sense, exactly like your irritating, speckle-faced classmate. Stubborn with an ego large enough to topple mountains.

The first time you met her, you’d been sobbing at the sight of blood on your skin.

You weren’t the fastest runner on the playground, but your classmates knew to never play hide and seek with you. You’d squeeze into the smallest crevices of your school's hallways and sit until recess was over and you were crowned the winner by your classmates when the bell rang. Your victory streak felt everlasting, three months of invisibility, it seemed until one day, a boy approached you — Jesse, a few inches taller and annoying, made it a challenge to discover your hiding spot. Younger you accepted any competition with grace, even moreso when Jesse’s friends bet that he’d pay you if he failed to complete the challenge… Your dad was very confused when you returned home with twenty bucks and a bag of Warheads that Friday. You don’t gamble, but what’s a little reward for upholding your legacy as the Best Hider? Your tactic was masterful, and while your classmates failed to find you, your piggy bank grew in size.

For the first term of fifth grade, recess was yours. Students of all grade levels were on a manhunt for you after lunch. The excessive searches got so bad that they limited your 10 second head start to 5, then 3, and even then, you were never caught.

Until Ellie.

You decided to switch it up one day: instead of going to your go-to hiding spot — in between the two giant pillars that separated the first and second grade classrooms — you decided to rush back towards the cafeteria and wait by the lunch tables. Call it hiding in plain sight. No one ever returned there after they finished eating; They were too busy pushing each other down the slide or searching for you on the field.

Your fall could’ve been caused by anything: an untied shoelace, your mind moving too fast for your feet, a crack in the blacktop. All you recall was laughing maniacally one second then sobbing harshly with a bloody knee the next. It barely hurt from your adrenaline, but blood had always freaked you out. You searched for anyone — a supervisor, a teacher, another classmate — but your cries weren’t loud enough to draw attention.

No one was a witness except the freakishly smart nerd that sat at the back of the classroom.

Ellie had been alone at the lunch tables, dirty sneakers kicked up with a sticker book in hand while she watched you cry completely stoic.

When you finally noticed her sitting there, you hoped your teary eyes would push her to get you some help, but when she squatted beside you with a taunting glance and pitying hand on your shoulder, you knew she sucked. Sucked really badly.

“That’s what you get for cheating. Everyone knows the lunch area’s off limits during recess.”

And then she hollered over Jesse and all his loser friends, exclaiming that she found you and everyone owed her whatever rewards they planned to give you. From that point on, you hated her. Whenever she spoke in class, won a tetherball match with her man hands, laughed too loud, you returned home with a chip on your shoulder and the urge to swing on her. Not only did Ellie take your money and treats, she dimmed your glory. The crown on your head was placed onto hers in a heartbeat, title going from Best Hider to Best Seeker, and all it took was one accident. Ellie swiftly became your obsession after that. How could such a loser loner be that snarky? Losers are often desperate for any form of human contact, so why wasn’t she? Everyone thought she was the coolest person ever yet she didn’t care. Her routine stayed the same: silently sit in class and obnoxiously be the smartest person in the room then walk exactly 20 feet in front of you when the day is over.

You’ll never forget the disgusted churns in your gut when you discovered she lives right across the street from you, and apparently had since you both were in kindergarten. If anyone at school found out that you religiously watched Ellie ride and fall(once) off her skateboard for a month straight, they’d probably group you too together for being the wackiest bitches in the neighborhood.

It’s been five years since that day by the lunch area, and still, Ellie’s mission of making you feel like gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe rages on. Every test, every presentation, every spelling bee, every race, she shows you up without breaking a sweat while you drag behind her using every bit of willpower you have left, and still, it’s never enough. She surpasses you in ways that almost seem impossible, your brain can barely grasp it.

She’s still mechanically organized, even as a teenager. On honor roll and a dickface. Isn’t high school the time to find yourself and not be a loser? Talk to boys and get a job and start driving—

“You look psycho. She’s not thinking about you. Give it a rest.”

Your best friend’s right as always, but your glare doesn’t get any softer. In fact, it hardens when Riley scoots directly in front of your vision so your eyes are on her and not Ellie.

“If I killed someone, would you help me hide the body?” You say, exasperated.

“No, bitch I wouldn’t,” she rolls her eyes, “You’re risking life in prison because she ruined the curve for our biology test?”

“She gotta 98. I dunno how campus isn’t up in flames right now. All these bitches are weak,” you shove a carrot in your mouth, “my dad’s gonna kill me.”

“I’ll come to the funeral.”

“That’s not funny. You know how he is! He’s gonna blow a fuse when my grade gets posted.”

Riley’s eyes shadow with sympathy. “Maybe you can ask for a retake? Mr. Johnson’s not as fucked up as—“

“Ms. Robinson.” You and Riley both shudder in disgust. Your first bio teacher had it out for you so bad, it seemed. Last semester was stupid rough because of her pop quizzes and accusations of cheating. If she hadn’t fell down the stairs and broken her hip, you’d be on academic probation by now.

“I’m not reliving that, Jesus… Are you comin’ later? Everyone’s asking where you’ve been.”

Every reminder that you're locked in your room while your friends cause ruckus throughout the town is like a knife to the chest. “Tell 'em I'll seem them inna month,” you smile sarcastically, “I can’t go anywhere until I get my D up in math… and English—“

“Bitch how do you have a D in English when we speak it everyday—“

“I know, okay, I hate essays! My brain can’t… I can’t sit there and write for too long. I feel like I’ll start going crazy looking at those little ass words! I needa stress reliever bad.”

Riley pouts and reaches for your hand, “I'll find you one and send it to your place, promise.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. My dad might set it on fire to taunt me.” You snort, but Riley doesn’t. She never does when you talk about your dad. The sad look she always gives makes you uncomfortable. Your gaze falls onto your tray when she squeezes your hand.

“If you need to stay with me, you can. You know that, right?”

“… Yeah. Thanks.”

Riley’s a wishful thinker. Her family’s the sweetest: always inviting you over for holidays, her birthdays, sometimes your birthday when your dad deems you undeserving of celebration. They embrace you openly, and you’re forever grateful for their warmth, but the peace you experience in her household always ends in tears when your dad picks you. He’ll scream at you until his voice goes hoarse for running away even though you always ask for permission before going anywhere. The grudge he held onto after you snuck out one time in junior high weighs both of you down.

Your father doesn’t trust you, and sometimes when it’s late and you hear delirious mumbling in the hallways, you question whether or not to trust him.

The bell pulls you from your thoughts, and for once, you’re grateful that lunch is over. Riley’s gentle aura has a way of disarming you. You’re always unprepared whenever you trek the stairs to your porch; exposed and vulnerable.

Riley allows you to wallow in silence all the way back to class. Your academic reputation was never stellar, but you always believed you were smart enough to make it into college and find your purpose, but every year that passes, your attention span suffers, and no one understands how draining it is except you. You were naive to think you’d be able to confide in your dad about something like that.

Riley gives your hand one last squeeze before sliding through the door next to yours. Annoyance stabs in your spine when you catch Ellie already sat at the front of the room with her stupid fucking glasses and notebooks and sharpened pencils laid neatly on her desk. It’s like she lives her life to taunt you, force you to remember that you’ll never be as clever as she is. You’re sick just looking at her.

You fall onto your designated seat in the last row, the last bits of students clabbering in just as the second bell rings. Mr. Thomas is already scribbling a bunch of Xs and Ys on the board and attendance hasn’t even been taken. It’s one of those days, one of frantic note taking while you attempt to catch all the information he throws at you while Ellie glides through the lesson like knives through butter.

“Just like we reviewed last week, everyone! A point is a solution to a system of equations—“

You’re betting you won’t have a wrist by the end of class. What use are your notes if they end up looking like chicken scratch? You should know all of this, you’ve read these lessons so many times, so why’re you blanking when the question comes back to you?

“If we plug (3, 6) into our equations, will we have a solution?” Mr. Thomas points directly at you. It’s a simple yes or no question, and in retrospect, the equations aren’t that fucking hard but you can’t do it. Why can’t you solve this?

Y and X and equal signs mock you all across the white board. Just guess! There’s a 50% chance you’ll get it right. A betted yes is still a yes, anyway!

Exactly how a betted no is still a no. You’re fucked.

“Um…”

Say anything! Who gives a fuck if it’s wrong or right or whatever! So what if you can’t do algebra! When you leave here, you'll be so extraordinarily incredible at your job that you won’t need any of it! Most of the things you learn in school all go to waste anyway!

“… No?” You answer meekly, and your teacher’s eyes brighten.

“Correct!—“

Thank God, I thought I was gonna die—

“—Can you explain how?”

Oh, fuck my life

“Um… well… Uh…”

Your face burns from the stares of your classmates and your teacher and God himself. You stumble over your answer, saying a bunch of shit that you can hardly understand, all while the light in Mr. Thomas’ eyes slowly distinguish.

“I’m… not sure, Mr. Thomas.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he gives you a pitying glance before asking, “That's alright! Does anyone wanna help our friend out?”

And of course, Ellie’s hand flies up just to spite you, and your efforts crash and burn.

“Yes, Ellie?”

“If 6 is Y, then the equation has to equal 6. 2 times 3 is 6 but adding 1 makes it 7. So no…”

“We don’t have a solution.” Her tone is so secure it strains in your ears. You might as well stand at the front of the class and let everyone shoot you with spitballs. That’d be less humiliating.

“Great job, Ellie! So that means—“

Frankly, you don’t give a shit what it means, you just want to leave. Be anywhere but here. Being home would actually feel more safe, despite the small voice in your mind claiming that’s a fallacy.

Class drags on and so does your writing. Whatever burst of energy you had at the start of class has been wrung to hell, finishing with a whopping one and a half pages of notes. Better than yesterday. Small victories.

After what feels like ages, the bell rings, and students disperse to wherever they're supposed to be. You throw your backpack over your shoulder, your feet carrying you even faster towards the door when the Devil speaks.

“—Thanks, Mr. Thomas. See you!”

“Bye, Ellie! See you tomorrow.”

She makes it to the door before you, already vanishing into the crowded hallways before a calm timbre yanks you back. You spin with the brightest smile. “Yes, Mr. Thomas?”

He stares disapprovingly, and you groan, “Can I go, please? I’m gonna be late—“

“I’ll write you a slip. I need to talk to you.”

Your lax demeanor masks the pounding in your chest well enough. Mr. Thomas crosses his arms over his chest before sighing, “what’s going on with you? You’re not usually this…”

“What, stupid?” You tort humorlessly.

“No! Not at all… Distracted, I suppose, but never stupid. Don’t say that again.”

“C’mon, Thomas, everyone knows it, it’s not a big deal. Some people are smart and some are dumb. It’s just how life goes.”

“There’s no such thing as a dumb student. Everyone learns at their own pace. That’s how life goes.” He scolds, “Do you need some extra tutoring—“

“No, actually, I don’t, thanks.”

He sends you a look that’s very father-like and you almost vomit, “I want to see you succeed, that’s why I’m here. There’s so many resources available that could be of use, yet you never take them. Why is that?”

You shrug in agitation, “I don’t know, Mr. Thomas. I’m trying, okay? I can handle whatever distractions I have on my own.”

“You know some of your friends can tutor you, right? It doesn’t have to be some strict meeting with a teacher. Some students in here are tutors. Ellie’s on a roll with—“

“Can we not discuss how much smarter my classmates are than me? I'd really appreciate it.”

He sighs disapprovingly, “That’s not my intention and you know it. There’s no shame in asking for help from people around you.”

“Is this a therapy session?”

“No, but the semester’s almost over. If you don’t pass your midterm and your final, you’ll fail the class, and you’ll be stuck with me for another year.”

You scoff at the insinuation of your demise, “Wow, thanks so much, Mr. Thomas,” His gaze turns sorrowful — pitying. Your feet already carry you towards the door. “Don’t worry about that slip by the way!”

You ignore the calls of your name before getting shoved into the ocean of students. There’s only one more class you have to sit through and you’re fucking free. Ellie’s not the only one you should look out for. Even teachers are becoming biased pests.

Just when you thought the walk home from school would be peaceful, mainly due to the fact that Ellie was nowhere to be found — not twenty feet ahead or behind you. You hoped her dad’s car got stuck in the open trench by the gas station.

But no, she’s already made it home — to your home, squatted beside her stupid blue bike with a flat tire, tirelessly reviving her ride with a pump that looks awfully familiar. She’s practically blocking the entire walkway. Your day cannot get any fucking worse.

You stand in front of her in annoyance, “Can you move?” She doesn’t reply, barely acknowledges you.

“Hellooo, Earth to dickhead, I’m trying to get home.”

“Go around.” She nods towards the street.

“What, so I can get hit by a car?”

“Hopefully.”

“Go away! You live over there!” Your finger jabs to her dungeon. “You could’ve pumped your own goddamn tire away from my domain!”

“I don’t wanna walk all the way back.”

“Back where?”

“To your house. Your dad let me use your guys’ pump.”

Red alarms sound in your head. Your dad allowed the enemy into your dominion? Rage explodes within you when playful green eyes pan over your entire form.

“That bothers you?”

“You bother me. I hate your guts and I always will. You know what you did to me.” You stomp around her worksite. Before you can kick your front door in, she hollers at you.

“I don’t actually, but alright. Make sure to let Thomas know.”

Your head whips in her direction, gaze searing trails of fire onto the sidewalk.

“What does Thomas have to do with anything?”

Ellie shrugs nonchalantly, “He emailed me earlier. Asked me to tutor you. Said you could use some extra guidance.”

She uses your shock to her advantage, pins you where you stand before rising to her full height. Her dirty fucking shoes pan through the dead grass of your yard.

“If you wanna flunk, keep doing what you’re doing. Stay up all night and read until your eyes bleed only to forget everything the second you get to class because you’re scared of being wrong,” her teeth shine underneath the afternoon sun, “nobody’s rooting for you, not even yourself. I’m your last shot at making a comeback. I’ll get you that C if you want it. All you have to do is say please.”

Flames of humiliation engulf you from head to toe. Never in your life have you had a stranger degrade you this strongly. Insults from family are always painful but after a certain point, you grow used to hearing what they don’t like about you. Ellie doesn’t know anything about you yet she’s reading you like that stupid scientology novel she always has in her backpack.

You don’t even have the wind to tell her to go fuck herself before yanking the front door open and flinging yourself inside. It slams when you fall back against it and you swear you hear scoffing from outside.

“Hey.”

Does he not notice your distress or is he simply uncaring? “… Hi, dad.”

“How was school?”

“Fun.”

“Sounds like it. I made pizza.” Little does he know, food is the last bit of your worries.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, hun.”

Am I a disappoint? Do you regret having me? Do you like me… I know you love me, but do you like me?

“… Did you buy some more hot honey?”

“Course, baby. On the counter.”

“Thanks.”

He nods at you before refocusing on the match. That’s as much conversation you’ll get from him until tomorrow. You reheat your pizza silently, mind focused on the fucking aggravating genius right outside your doorstep. You don’t want to be in range when she gives the bike pump back. The both of them might team up to demean you together.

Days like today remind Ellie why she misses her skateboard. Twelve-year-old her must’ve been in denial or incredibly lost when she begged Joel for a bicycle.

She hardly ever rides it anymore, it just sits in the corner of the garage collecting dust and cobwebs, but nostalgia hit her harder than usual today. Could be due to the change in weather, the cold always takes her back to those family getaways in the mountains. Not a day goes past where she doesn’t think about that deer she found laying in the snow when she was eight.

There aren’t many moments where Ellie gets to decompress: she’s always busy, drowned to the knee with novels and notebooks and annotation assignments or helping a classmate proofread their final papers. She doesn’t remember the last time she got home and simply wasted away doing nothing. There are parts of her that envy students who have that privilege, but every time her schedule slows for any reason, she grows antsy and her fingers twitch with eagerness to solve something.

That’s why she pulled this stupid bike out of the garage. She assumed taking a lap or two around the block would pass time, but she hardly made it down the driveway before her front tire started stuttering.

Why the hell did she think asking your dad for that pump was a good idea? Not that Ellie cares if you do or not, but it definitely wasn’t her smartest moment. She’ll get you one of these days. Catch you when you least expect it and press about your fucking issue with her because, frankly, she’s been confused for half a decade.

Not that you’d ever care, but you’re not Ellie’s cup of tea either. You’ve been the same since you were five: loud and reckless with unpredictable mood swings. You just… do shit, and Ellie despises nothing more than people that just do shit; Your brain runs on impulse. You never see the world past your little bubble, and there’s a reason why people are so prone to pop it for you. Every move you make feels spiteful, especially if Ellie catches you in the act. You’re always there, staring at her, watching her with conviction. She’s provoked every time.

It's gotten easy to ignore your bombarding personality. You’re ignorable, but you got her out of character today. She hates stooping down to your level but you took her there once again, and she’ll resent you for that like always.

She feels hollow knocking on your front door. Her brain won’t stop replaying what you said and what she said and this is why she loathes interacting with you.

The door opens and she realizes she was holding her breath.

“Hey, Ellie! Your bike alright?”

“Yeah, I uhh… yeah, sorry,” she extends the pump and your dad accepts it graciously, “Thanks.”

“Anytime… Hey, you have class with my daughter, right?”

A few every year. It sucks. She nods.

“How’s she doin’? She looked real down today.”

Yeah. Because she sucks. “I’m not sure. I don’t really pay that much attention to be honest.”

“Of course, ‘cause you actually do what you’re supposed to in class! I wish she was more like you!” He’s laughing but Ellie’s not, hiding her discomfort with a stiff smile.

“Thanks again,” she points towards the bike pump before shifting away from the door, “have a good night.”

“You, too!” He grins, “if you see anything outta the ordinary, don’t hesitate to let me know!” Ellie nods with a stiff wave. Her feet couldn’t carry her off your porch fast enough.

The door shuts, and Ellie releases the second breath she’s held since speaking to you. There’s an icky feeling in her stomach, distaste in her mouth, but she can’t pin where from. Her bike wheels whine the entire walk back to her house. 40 feet suddenly feels like 10 miles.

She uncaringly drops her bike beside her dad’s truck before entering the house.

“Is the alien invasion upon us?”

Ellie’s replies dryly, “Could be.”

“I’ll be damned! Come in here for a second, Ellie. I need your help with somethin’.”

She sighs before reluctantly entering the kitchen where Joel leans, practically bent over the counter with a rubber-gloved hand shoved down the drain.

“Compromising position.”

“Shut up, c’mere… I may or may not’ve dropped a fork in here ‘n I can’t reach it…”

“Dude, again?” Ellie grabs the lone rubber glove that rests on the counter.

“Don’t give me that! I’ve had enough shit-talkin’ from Sarah.”

Ellie’s eyes go sparkly, “She here?”

“Not yet, kiddo. She just called earlier, she misses you.”

“She didn’t call me.” Ellie pouts. It’s weird, to go from living across the hall from somebody for so many years then only seeing them twice a year if that. When Sarah left for college, Ellie was devastated, excited, anxious, sad all over again. She’s everything Ellie desires to be: intelligent, talented, tall, pretty. In some ways, Sarah’s filled the vacancy that was reserved for Ellie’s mother. Joel’s a great parent and she loves him to death, but he’s not a girl, and there will always be something that he simply doesn’t understand no matter how hard he tries. Sarah will always be Ellie’s greatest blessing. Home is home — home is comfort, but without Sarah… there’s an emptiness in these four walls that fit the shape of her perfectly. Joel feels her absence, too. Ellie notices his longing whenever she catches him searching Sarah’s old room when they’re folding laundry.

“Compromising position.” Joel mocks when Ellie’s smaller hand shoves inside the garbage disposal in search for the missing fork. She throws him a middle finger and he laughs, deep and hearty.

“You’re quiet today.” He says suddenly, and Ellie stiffens a bit, eyes glued onto clean stainless steel.

“Always quiet, old man.”

“Well, yeah… something’s bothering you. What happened?”

“Just school stuff, nothing crazy.” She definitely won’t, and she partially blames herself for her own damning. You seemed so upset before you slammed the door in her face. It didn’t matter if you were on your last legs, ever since middle school, you’ve always gotten the last word, and Ellie’s always caught scrabbling for a rebuttal.

Joel hums. Ellie nearly chokes on air when he inquiries,

“What, you gotta girlfriend?”

“What the hell, no, of course not, are you serious—“

“Damn… I was kiddin’ but I think you actually might, you’re all cherry-faced! What’s her name! Is she coming over for Christmas!—“

Ellie pulls the butchered fork free from the disposal with all her strength before tossing it and the glove on the counter. Joel’s hysteria weighs his shoulders down, wiping the joyful tears from his eyes.

“I’m going to bed.” Ellie states stoically.

“AWW, C’MON! IT’S NOT EVEN 6 YET!” She rolls her eyes when his wheezing starts back up.

Ellie leaves trails of fire all the way up the stairs, Joel’s giggly apologies and begs for her to come back silencing when her door shuts. Her palms find the caves of her eyes. Her body betrays her, brain pleading to climb underneath her mattress and sleep away the stress of today while her fingers itch to craft or sketch or repair anything.

… She should’ve been nicer to you. Fuck.

Her thoughts leap from point A to B: go apologize, help you pass math, go your separate ways for the rest of forever. But you could’ve been nicer to her, also. Why won’t you just be nice?

Ellie goes against her better judgement and nearly sprints to her window. When she yanks her blinds down just enough to peep through, she locates the glass that guards your room.

She swears she’s not some fucking weird pervert. She’s just checking to see if you’re alive and ripping up your favorite posters like you always do when you’re mad about something. But there’s no movement from your end and it’s dark where you stay. Are you sleeping? Are you on your phone? Are you…

Did she make you sad?

Anger is different — that comes about as naturally as being happy for you, but she hasn’t seen you cry since elementary school. Why does her heart start thrashing when she envisions your red eyes and tear-soaked pillow? Ellie doesn’t like you but she doesn’t want that. Maybe she desired to see you crack when you were little but that was because…

Ellie doesn’t fucking know what she felt at the time. Agitated that everyone liked you so much, annoyed at how loud you laughed in class. Envious of your light. You were so bright — annoyingly so, shining your blasphemous rays everywhere, blinding everyone in your vicinity. There’s no way you’d give anyone the power to dim your shine.

That aggravating feeling blooms in her chest when she thinks about the amount of times she’s tried to do just that, and something tickles in her throat. It’s too thick to swallow down and she takes that as a sign. Enough sight-seeing for today.

She plummets face first into her mattress, groaning in annoyance when her cheeks catch flame. You drive her insane. You and your adorable fucking nose.

Just when she thinks she’s calmed down, knocks echo from outside her door.

“Kid… Can I come in?”

Ellie’s tempted to say not right now, but she forces herself up to open the door for him. Sorrow flashes in Joel’s vision. “M’sorry, kiddo, ‘bout earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t, today just sucked.”

“Talk t’me.” He implores gently. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just…” Ellie shrugs lamely. Why is it so easy to talk to him about everything but you? “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. I will, but not now.”

He sighs, and she knows he’s concerned, but he doesn’t pry. “Okay, baby—”

“Can I have a hug?” Ellie coughs to mask the crack in her timbre, and Joel embraces her without hesitation. His hold is strong and it brings her solace. For the time being her mind silences, and shoulders aren’t as tense.

Hold onto this until tomorrow.

Until she sees you again.

School has always been predictable.

You come in, you sit for hours and run for one, and you leave with nothing, everything, and the little specks in between. You knew math would be a little awkward after your conversation with Mr. Thomas — you expected him to call on you more often to answer questions or say your name obnoxiously loud during attendance, but the patronizing never came. You took it as him sparing you until the following day until you received an email from him during your last period asking to speak with you. Much to your mistake, you accepted.

Never during your entire high school career did you think that you’d be stuck getting scolded by your favorite teacher with Ellie Williams sitting right next to you. What a turn of fucking events.

“You’re not spending another year with me. You’re going to do better,” Mr. Thomas’ tone is gentle with a sharp edge, but it’s not degrading, “my friend here is willing to help you get to where you want to be. I feel this will be beneficial for both of you.”

Your teacher gestures to Ellie who’s annoyingly fidgety: messing with the loose strings from the slits in her jeans. You’re doing a stellar job at keeping your distaste in check. No need for another scolding.

“Tell you what. If you pass the midterm, I’ll throw a pizza party.”

“I hate tomatoes.”

“… Then we’ll have a to-be-determined party.”

“Hooray.” You grab your stuff and stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “anything else, Thomas?”

“Yes. Be nice to each other. We’re all friends here.” For once, his statement is for both of you. It’s a little comforting. At least you’re not the only one being corrected for adjustment.

“Let’s go.” You say to Ellie who follows in your lead. You’re already out the door before she can finish saying her goodbyes.

You only slow when rushing feet pitter from behind. When Ellie catches up, neither of you speak. You guess you don’t have to. She’s only scheduled to study with you for an hour anyway, there’s no need to waste it on pointless conversation.

You only set one boundary.

“Can we study at your place?”

Ellie pauses before nodding. The silence upholds the entire walk to Ellie’s house. She takes a deep breath before unlocking her front door. “My dad’s working, so… yeah. It’ll actually be quiet when we’re studying.”

You say nothing. You set your backpack on the kitchen table to grab your math book and pencils. Ellie takes a seat beside you with her own notebook, opening it to the lesson from today.

“Midterms are usually easier than finals, there's not as much to remember, so… um, what area are you struggling in?”

An insecure itch squiggles in your nose and you scratch it. You shrug and play with your eraser.

“We can do,” she flips through her pages, “x,y solutions if you wanna, just to start. They were from Thomas’ review the other day.”

Your cheeks heat at the memory. Suddenly there’s thirty pairs of eyes on you all over again. “Sure, Ellie.”

“Okay.” She turns to a fresh page before scribbling and her handwriting is perfect. The equation is familiar and easy. You were half expecting her to give you some crazy shit to kick off. She slides her notebook beside you and you don’t hesitate to input the values. You allow her to examine your work with a dry mouth.

“That’s right.”

Goosebumps rise on your skin and your cheeks go warm and you don't know why.

“Uh, good job, I’ll give you something harder.”

She adds another equation onto the page for you to complete but you’re not paying attention. Ellie’s hands are very large. She’s always had freakish man hands but the definition in her veins is much more prominent than in sixth grade. What the fuck? Her pencil looks like a needle in between her fingers. They look so out of place on her dainty wrist, not that you care.

“Uhh… hello.”

“What.”

“You can do it now. Solve it.”

“… Okay.”

The question in front of you is the same format as the first one, but the numbers are bigger and there’s even more letters and addition signs and your chest plummets onto the hardwood. Your eyes anxiously find Ellie’s who stares back in confusion.

“What’s the matter? Need help?”

You swallow and almost choke from the dryness. You just did this problem. The structure is the same, the process of solving is the same, but you're too focused on how Ellie’s going to react to you messing up. She’ll probably brag about how it’s not that hard and berate you about how you’re not that stupid. Perfectionists like her — like your dad are ruthless. Their superiority complex makes them yell and scream insults at you because you’ll never be where they are. You'll never be a match for their genius and in turn, they choose to resent you.

So you wait for the low blows, the hollering, the threats of punishment. You wait and wait but she doesn’t say anything until she does.

“Hey… you okay?”

“What do you think, Ellie?”

Tension pulls at her brows, “what do you mean?”

In hindsight, she’s done nothing wrong up until this point, she's staring a little too hard for your liking. She’s the only one here, you have no choice but to give her the spotlight she loves so badly. Anything to get it off you.

“This is probably fun for you, watching me fuck up in real time. Is that why you agreed to do this for me? For an ego boost?”

Why does she say your name like you’re hurting her? She’s never sounded so wounded; always prepared to strike back whenever you give her unfiltered attitude, retaliating until she’s blue in the face and you’re storming off in the opposing direction.

“I don’t care if you mess up. I’m here to help you, why don’t you get that?”

“Because when have you ever given a shit if I do well or not? I’ve been a delinquent since we met, why are you so interested now?”

She scoffs and tosses her pencil in annoyance. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Apparently I’m the only one that missed the memo of hating your guts. News fucking flash, I don’t and I never did. Whatever shit you made up about me in your head isn’t my problem to fix,” she closes her notebook with more force than necessary, “if you don’t want my help then tell Thomas so he can get off my back about it. Find somebody else to teach you or don’t or whatever, I don’t care anymore.”

...

… Oh.

It could be the way she’s staring at you: eyes stern, self-assured and her voice heavy, a bit deeper than expected when she’s aggravated, and the spots on her face compliment the red hot that burns in her cheeks, but you have very little — actually nothing to say, and it’s not for the reason you expected. You’re stunned into silence, and that confuses her: she half-expected you to take that pencil you hold and stab her through the neck, but you don’t. You don’t storm off, you don’t talk shit, you just sit and examine her face with a faraway look she’s never seen from you before.

“What?” She implores when you stare too long for comfort, and there’s a lengthy, tender tug in your chest.

You’re positive the end of the world is coming in the next ten seconds. None of the Earthly shit you’ve experienced will matter in the afterlife and the world you know will cease to exist and you’re thankful for that. You don’t think you’d be able to live any longer with the knowledge that you viewed Ellie in an incredibly different manner during her winded, angered dialogue. There’s a weird fluttering sensation in your stomach and your heart sits at the base of your throat. It waves over your body with an unfamiliar intensity and all you can do is gawk at the girl who took your breath.

“I— I’m…”

“You’re what? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m… I think I should go.” You’re already shoveling your things into your backpack, and Ellie’s insanely puzzled.

“Wh—“

“Sorry. I just got lightheaded all of a sudden,” you sling your back over your shoulder before neatly pushing the dining chair in. You’ve never pushed in a chair in your life.

“Are you… are you good? Do you need me to walk you back?”

Her concern makes your tummy burst into flutters, “I'll be fine. Same time tomorrow?” You force down the dreaminess in your voice as Ellie follows close behind.

“Um… okay? I guess, I thought you—“

“I think we should start over.”

It’s almost comedic how far Ellie’s eyes bulge from her skull. Why do you feel so featherlight all of a sudden? “Let’s forget today ever happened and start fresh tomorrow? Is that cool?” Never once in your life have you cared if Ellie was cool with any of your plans. Who are you right now?

“I — well, yeah… cool, I guess. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting really fucking weird right no—“

You squeeze the lone book closer to your chest. “I’m fine, trust me. Goodnight.”

When you open the door, Ellie’s dad is on the other side struggling to find his keys in his work bag. He smiles down at you in surprise.

“Hey, kid! It’s been a while, how’ve you been! How’s dad?” Only Ellie notices the wavering looks he shares between you and her. You smile, “been good, dad’s fine. I was just heading out. Thanks again, Ellie.” You say one last time before politely brushing past Mr. Miller, leaving Ellie to simmer and question what the fuck you took before you got here.

When you're finally out of sight, Joel gives Ellie a knowing look, and she almost throws up from giddy nerves. Or full fleshed anxiety. Whichever ones worse.

Is it possible to lose your mind before its fully developed?

You knew something was off when you set an alarm for five-thirty in the morning to get ready for school despite getting two hours of sleep in, yet still, you felt rejuvenated. You freshened up with your favorite body wash, plucked your brows, did a facemask, wore something that wasn’t the prior evening's pajamas. For the first time in your life since elementary school, you were excited to start the day and be productive. You don’t know why.

Purposefully ignoring your change in attitude due to your neighbor is your favorite pass-time.

You’re not sure what the hell happened to you at Ellie’s house, but it definitely solidified that you’re clinically insane. Delusional enough that whenever she meets your eyes in class your breathing pattern goes wonky. She nodded at you in greeting during English class and you nearly fainted. What the fuck has happened to you?

Ellie was everything you detested less than 48 hours ago and now she’s leaving you with unrest that isn’t entirely displeasent. It makes you warm and tingly like a cup of warm tea on a cold morning. That’s not what you expected forgiveness to feel like, but it’s nice. Comforting.

You didn’t see Ellie during lunch, and much to Riley’s confusion, you were disappointed. You and Ellie are nowhere near friends, but you’re trying, and she seems to be receptive to your efforts. In her own little geeky, awkward way. Might as well show your appreciation. She’s helping you out after all.

After years of depending on Riley for emotional stability, you could use someone new.

So you wait perched up against the front of the school for your tutor. The anticipation makes you jittery, pacing across the small grass plain, kicking lone rocks, telling yourself to calm the fuck down because you’ve walked home with her since you were nine only this time around you’re not seperate but together—

“Sup.”

You whip around at the call of your name, “hi.” You’re cheesing, can’t help it. Forgiveness is a great feeling. Ellie barely smiles back but it’s a start.

“Um, we’re still at your house, right?”

“Mhm, why, wanna go to yours?”

“No!”

Ellie flinches, and you scramble to recover. “I mean… I’d rather not, sorry. I’d just… rather not.”

She eyes you skeptically before relenting. “… Okay.”

“Shall we?” You gesture to the path to your neighborhood, but before you can lead the way, a hand clamps around your bicep, firm and stilling with something softer. You can’t move, and you don’t want to, the only proof of life being the constant palpitations in your ribcage.

“Are you listening?”

Nope. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if we’re, like… I don't know, good? Are we okay? I don’t know what’s happening, you’ve been so…” Her sentence trails, unsure of how to describe the arc you’re on. The arc of forgiveness.

“Ellie… I forgive you for what happened in fifth grade. And everything after.”

She squints. “What?”

“I forgive you… I’m just hoping you forgive me, too?”

“Uh… yeah… I forgive you, sure.” And she wears it so well. Her dirty shoes don’t bother you as much anymore. Joy thrums from the deep workings of your heart. “Friends?”

“… Sure?”

“C’mon then, friend. We got some math to do.” You squeal and throw your arms around her. She tenses but doesn’t push you off.

You hold her the entire walk, and some time during, she relaxed into you.

Ellie never thought she’d fall victim to an alien abduction and end up trapped in another dimension with a nice you, but she’s here, and surprisingly, she’s enjoying it. The one secret she’ll never tell.

She’s not sure where this switch up came from, and honestly, she’s scared to find out, but she can’t help but be drawn to the shyer, timid side of you. Whenever she encourages or applauds your efforts on paper, your eyes go wide and glossy, and her heart squeezes in delight.

There are times when she’s speaking, like now— light introductions about graphing parabolas, where she catches you mindlessly glancing over her features. She didn’t mind it initially — merely assumed that staring was your studying tic, but the longer she teaches, the deeper your gaze becomes, and the more uncomfortable she grows, even more than her disappointment whenever you look away.

“Does that make sense?” She finally croaks when she finishes her graph, and you nod like you have no idea what she just said but simply can’t be bothered. She can’t help the upturn of her lips.

“Can I test you?” She asks, and her heart thumps when your lashes flutter. She doesn’t wait for your response before creating a function table on the spot — albeit more complicated, but she needs to see if you’re progressing.

When you take the pencil out of her hand and start scribbling, she can’t help but stare now. She watches you work silently, eyes cascading over your focused vision, each twitch of your nose, how you bite your bottom lip in thought. You erase and correct whatever mistake you’ve written and Ellie can’t the tiny smile that rises in her cheeks. Recognizing that something could be wrong is a telling sign of improvement. The kitchen is suddenly awfully warm.

You exhale before setting the pencil flat on the table and sliding Ellie the graphing paper.

“Don’t be nervous.” She comments when you start fidgeting with your eraser.

You scoff, “can’t help it.”

Ellie rolls her eyes before scanning your work. When she notices the messy erasing on your graph lines, she snickers — she’s not grading you on how perfect the lines are but that didn’t stop you from fixing them at least seven times.

“What, I failed?”

“Nhm… it’s correct actually. Impressive.”

“Impressive. What are you, 50?” You mock playfully.

“Shut up, people see graphs and start pissing themselves, you did good.”

“I was one of those people.”

“And now you’re not, just needed a little elbow grease.”

“Elbow grease! You are 50, good God almighty.”

Ellie scoffs. “Elbow grease isn’t an old saying! It’s used in every hard-working context.”

“Oh, brotherr—“

“Shut up!” You and Ellie’s laughter blend together. The rest of your lesson resumes with such and Ellie couldn’t be more grateful.

Time passes with delight, and before either of you know it, Joel is unlocking the front door while Ellie helps you organize your books. Neither of you notice his observing, and he’s thankful; Ellie would probably throw a fit if she caught him lurking, but he can’t help the glee he feels whenever Ellie laughs, and she's in hysterics with every joke you crack. Out of all the students that have visited the house, you’re the only one that’s garnered such a reaction out of his daughter. She's usually serious in a school-related setting, but you encourage her benevolence.

“Hey Mr. Miller!” You wave and Ellie sighs.

“Hey, kid… how’s the lesson going?”

“Fine. We just finished.” Ellie says with the hopes that he’ll relocate so she can walk you out without hassle.

“I think I’m getting smarter, Miller!”

“You were already smart.” He charms, and you blow a playful raspberry. Your bag strap rests on your shoulder and Ellie leads you to her front door.

“We should do something fun, Ellie.” Her and Joel’s ear perk at the same time at your invitation. The two of you cautiously eye the older man who scurries into the living room.

“… Like what?” She’s suddenly nervous, eyes flitting wherever yours aren’t.

“I don’t know, but I’ve been grounded and I’m bored. If I show my dad some of the work we’ve been doing he’ll probably let me off! Do you like arcades?”

A noise reminiscent of a heart monitor flatlining blares in Ellie’s head at your inquiry. You’re asking her to spend time with you outside of school? She fucking loves arcades but she can’t say that because her jaw’s on the floor.

“… Ellie?” You say, and she nods stupidly, but that doesn’t soothe the small flash of dejection in your eyes. “You don’t have to go. I was just asking.”

“NO!”

You flinch away from her and Joel hollers for Ellie from the living room to check in.

“I’M FINE!” She screams before looking at you, “Not no, I mean yes… I mean I’d love to! I’d love to go to an arcade,” her lips snap shut before she allows a with you to escape, “They, uh… there’s one not too far from school. We can just walk there after.”

When you smile, her heart throbs. Every time you smile at her, the organ cracks open in her chest to leave a spot just for you. She’s already plotting her own academic bribery so your dad can release you from confinement.

“Cool. I’ll ask Riley if she wants to come.”

Ellie’s mind whirs at the mention of a third. Riley’s nice; you all share English together, and though she and Riley don’t speak often, she never fails to give Ellie kutos on her writing skills whenever they peer edit. Riley is nice. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed that you’re bringing a friend on your…

She’s too ahead of herself. She was stupid enough to think that you’d wanna go on a date with her after a decade of bickering bullshit. That’s a result of swallowing down your crush for years out of fear of being rejected. She doesn’t even know if you like girls. She doesn’t know if you like anyone. If you do, you never disclose it.

“… You good?”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “Yeah, m’good, sorry. That sounds fun.”

With your phone already in hand, you say, “gimme your number.” You don’t comment on the shakiness in Ellie’s voice when she recites her digits. When her phone dings on the table, you mumble, “Text me, okay?”

“Yeah… promise.”

Is this flirting? Ellie doesn’t know — granted, she couldn’t tell the difference between right and left with a compass at the moment, but the fuzziness in her head is enough to convince her that your smile is more than friendly. Or she’s fucking delusional, could be one or the other. Both or neither. Regardless, she really doesn’t want you to go—

Wait, what.

“Night,” you say so softly she almost misses it, and she replies just the same. When the door clicks shut, Ellie’s forced to sit with the irreversible concave you’ve left in her chest. Her head rests against the door to gather herself, long enough to garner the attention of her dad.

“Somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

“I don’t think want is the right word.”

Who wants to come clean about their repressed infatuation with their sorta friend? Certainly no one sane, but Ellie hasn’t felt normal since the beginning of the month.

When she finally picks herself up, she finds Joel propped against the wall with his arms folded, an inquisitive look in his eye. You’ve piqued his interest. Fuck.

“We’ve never really talked about those lessons.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“… Alright.” He sighs in mock defeat, “you know I won’t push you, but Christmas is ‘round the corner and I think it’d be best to plan somethin’ for your new frie—“

“I think I like her.”

It’s said with such anguish; a fear of unrequited affection that slammed into her out of the blue, but it’s unrepairable now. Her next breath wobbles and Joel’s by her in an instant, large hands cradling her scorching cheeks. Her eyes water in embarrassment so she keeps them glued downward.

“C’mon now, darling, look here.” Joel encourages softly, and Ellie reluctantly matches his gaze, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. He doesn’t hesitate to catch it with his thumb.

“Whatever you’re feeling is a hundred percent normal. I’ve never seen you like this about somebody, it’s meant to be.”

“… What if she doesn’t like me?”

“I don’t think that's the problem, baby. She goes all doe-eyed when you’re explaining… quantum theory or whatever the hell—“

Ellie can’t hold her laugh, and her shine cracks Joel’s smile even wider.

“Wanna call Sarah?” He suggests gently, and Ellie nods.

“C’mon, we got some story to tell.”

Two weeks until your incoming doom. Or midterms if simplified. Fuck.

The closer the day gets, the more anxiety-riddled your lessons with Ellie become. Your new friend is incredibly reassuring, especially after you nearly toppled her to the ground in celebration of your D turning into a D+ after your last 3 assignment postings. Not only did you complete your math homework by yourself, but your answers were correct without cheating.

Your dad told you ‘good job’ during breakfast this morning and you cried on the way to school. Happy tears. Accomplished tears. He finally thinks your efforts are worth something.

… Maybe even worth a trip to the arcade?

You don’t discuss your tutoring sessions with him that often, but he’s aware that Ellie’s aiding you to success. You know he respects her — sometimes you think more than you, but whatever — so maybe, just maybe, he won’t be against pausing your punishment for one night.

You use your text threads with Ellie as an emotion stabilizer on the walk home. Fried memes and screen recordings of her Roblox fights are doing wonders for your thrashing heart. You can see your home and your dad’s truck in the driveway.

Each step up the porch stairs is torture.

You’re not shocked to find your dad on the couch eating popcorn. It’s routine at this point, and somehow, that makes your nerves worse.

“Hey, hon. Hungry? I made mac and cheese.”

Your stomach growls as if commanded.

“Um… can we eat together?”

His eyes unglued from the television and fell onto you, widened with shock at your proposal. Neither of you remember the last time you ate at the same table.

He pauses before mumbling.

“Of course we can.”

Something kick starts within your dad; he’s up and setting the table with a nice cloth and decorative plates, the fancy golden forks and spoons that are reserved for guests that never show, thick napkins, all with the dish of crusted mac and cheese set in the middle.

You both have washed up and changed, in fresh pjs and clean hands. Your dad eagerly fixes your plate first.

“How was school, honey?”

A pang hits deeps in your chest at the empty memory. It’d been your mother’s birthday and you and your dad had planned a celebratory dinner for her. The same exact meal; mac and cheese, broccoli, and chicken, then pie for dessert because she hated cake. Served the exact same way every year until it was no longer necessary.

“Great.” Because for once, school is great. School is cordial.

“I checked your grades.”

Your chest plummets but you reach for your fork to mask it. You’re aware of where your grades lie due to your obsessive reviewing.

“My grades aren’t accurate, not yet at least,” you begin rambling in efforts to appease, “there’s still assignments that haven’t been graded yet—“

“You’re making a comeback. Good job.”

… Shit.

Two praises in one day? The only time you’ve felt this accomplished was when you’d ridden your scooter for the first time without eating dirt. He bought you ice cream after.

You were seven. It couldn’t have been that long without some form of encouragement.

Could it?

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

“M’kay.”

“You know Ellie’s been tutoring me, and uh, she’s really good at it. Obviously...”

He’s nodding but his eyes are piercing.

“I… I thought I’d thank her. I’m on a really good track because of what she’s been doing and… yeah.”

“How are you going to thank her?”

You swallow down any hesitance.

“The arcade after school. Her… her ‘n me. And Riley.”

“And Riley.” He repeats detachedly.

The fire in your cheeks is enough warning that this was a mistake.

“When were you planning on going?”

“Um… Friday night.”

“What time.”

“After school.”

“And when would you be back?”

“Um… it closes at 8… so 8:30?”

His gaze drops down to his untouched plate, then yours. He relishes in the silence while you decay right in front of him.

“Seven.”

“Huh?”

“Be home by seven.”

Your chest flurries with excitement and appreciation and everything you haven’t felt for your father in so long.

“Thank yo—“

“I need you to understand something.” His sternness crushes your smile.

“This isn’t some pass for you to go behind my back and do bullshit. The second you get home, the routine is back. You go and study with her and come back here. No funny shit, do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Your meekness doesn’t satisfy him. “Do you understand me?”

“I understand, dad.”

He nods once before grabbing his fork.

“Eat your food.”

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie williams tlou

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afictionalwhor3 · 7 months ago

Text

Hitting the Books

IceHockey!Cregan x Tutor!Reader

Summary: Cregan has to get tutoring after being put on academic probation, but he doesn't expect to fall for his tutor

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, a small amount of angst

Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah Jace I'll talk to you later I'm about to walk into the tutoring center now," Cregan says with a sigh as he holds the door open for someone and walks in.

"AHAHAHA I forgot you had that. Bye loser have fun" Jace laughs in his ear before hanging up the phone.

"Dickhead" Cregan grumbles under his breath walking up to the front desk to check himself in, "Cregan Stark. It's my first time here. My session is supposed to be at twelve" He tells the man sitting behind the desk. He watches him type something in the computer and thinks about the series of decisions that landed him here. He knew he was slacking in school, not going to class, not turning in assignments. But in his defense with hockey season starting all those things seemed irrelevant. He found himself in an increased role this year and the team looked better than ever. He was ecstatic about the season and would go as far as to say this could be the year they win the conference. After coming so close in the past, he felt like this could be it. Now he watched as the best thing in his life could be taken from him. His coach brought him into the office to let him know he was on academic probation until further notice. This included spontaneous class checks, weekly academic checkups, and tutoring at least twice a week. He was one wrong step away from not just getting kicked off the team but kicked out of school all together. That was something he could not afford.

"Y/n is gonna be your tutor she is at table six" the man behind the desk says and he nods his head walking to the back and finding multiple tables placed around the room. Spaced out far enough to grant each one some respective form of privacy. The large windows that surrounded the room allowed plenty of light to illuminate the area and granted views of campus. The view was beautiful and had Cregan momentarily entranced. Coming back to reality he looked around, seeing a few people scattered across the room when he finally saw a table labeled with the number six on it. He began walking towards it where a girl was currently sat. She appeared to be deep in thought with headphones covering her ears and typing quickly on her laptop.

"Excuse me," Cregan starts as he approaches "I'm looking for Y/n, I'm here for tutoring" He states plainly watching as you take off your headphones, smile, and stand up extending your hand towards him,

"You must be Cregan. Nice to meet you I'm Y/n" You say as he takes your outstretched hand shaking it and giving you a tight lipped smile. You sit once again moving your laptop to the side and putting your headphones away "Twice a week for two hours is our schedule right?" You ask and Cregan nods his head with a sigh. He could think of approximately a hundred other places he would rather be than here. You weren’t an idiot and you could definitely pick up that vibe from him. You also knew who he was, one of your friends had a boyfriend on the hockey team so you had seen him around. And the only time athletes came into the tutoring center was when they were about to be academically ineligible to play, so you knew why he was here. Determined to make the best out of the current situation you smile and ask, "What do you want to start with? It can be anything you might be having trouble with," You ask while watching him slowly take out a laptop and notebook. He sighs again turning it on,

"I guess my calc class? That and my writing class are probably my worst grades right now," He says as he shows you what he is learning and you begin to explain it to him.

And that is how it goes between the two of you. Cregan always shows up on time, polite despite being disinterested, and your conversations revolve solely around academics. Not that it bothered you too much. He was never rude but you could tell when your words were going in one ear and out the other. You were getting paid regardless, and he if wanted to flunk out of school despite your help that was his business. You sometimes thought in different circumstances you may try your luck with him. Because despite his indifference, there was no denying how attractive he was. Those stormy grey eyes that only got prettier as the weather got colder, chestnut locks that he sometimes likes to put in a bun at the base of his neck, and a tall lean build he often hid beneath hoodies and sweats but you could still make out. Contrary to his teammates you hadn’t heard much about him sleeping around, but you had to assume a man on his level got his fair share. It was week three and you were sat next to him at the tutoring center trying to help him work through a question while these thoughts floated around the back of your head. In the middle of explaining he cut you off going,

"Wait I think I get this. All I have to do is," He starts and works out the rest of the problem on his own. You laugh slightly in disbelief. Maybe beneath acting like he was too cool for this, he was actually paying attention and learning. You nodded your head as you double-checked his work,

"Wow exactly. Good job," You say smiling proudly and looking at him. For the first time, he returns the smile giving you a genuine one as he inputs the answer in his computer. You notice a notification fall across his screen as he does so,

"Oh shit my essay was graded," He says and you watch him quickly click around so he could pull the grade up.

"The one we worked on last week?" You question and watch as he nods in response. The tab loads and you watch him scroll down and the grade on the screen reads, 74. You watch him visibly deflate as he sees the grade. Despite having to force it out of him you knew he put his all into that paper. You also knew it was the first assignment he was proud of and you did not like the cold and sad feeling that ran through you seeing how disappointed he was. You put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder while he looked at you. "Well, it’s not completely terrible. It’s around the class average so at least you know it isn’t just you. What have you been getting on essays this semester?" You ask and he shrugs

"Honestly? This is the first one I've submitted in a while" He says sheepishly a small smile pulling at his lips and you sigh trying to contain your own smile.

"Well, then this a great starting place. Don’t be disappointed. I’ll have you producing A-plus essays in no time,” You say and at this, he scoffs and then rolls his eyes.

"I appreciate the confidence, and you’re a pretty good teacher, but I'm not an A student. I live more in the low to mid C range," He states and you proceed to pinch him making Cregan flinch away from you rubbing his shoulder.

"With that shitty attitude, I can see why. You just said I’m a good teacher, therefore I’m gonna get you to an A, at the very least a B-” You say confidently staring him down. He leans back in his seat feeling hot under your intense gaze.

"Alright, alright. I’m just letting you know it won’t be an easy feat,” He says and you shake your head.

“To this day I have yet to turn down a good challenge,” You say smirking and open up the assignment to see the comments his teacher left.

You considered that day to be the turning point in your dynamic. From that day on Cregan began to open up considerably. He was more attentive during your sessions and you could see how much he was progressing in all his classes. He started arriving earlier and earlier spending the time before your session talking about anything but school. You learned he had a half sister and he lived up north so he grew up playing hockey. The more you got to know him the more you began to like him which was doing terrible things to your body. You found yourself growing increasingly nervous in his presence. Every time he laughed or teased you, a swarm of butterflies seemed to take flight in your stomach. Just the sight of him was enough to send your heart racing. Previously when you would see him around campus he pretended he didn’t see you and increased his pace. Now he waved and if he wasn’t on his way somewhere, stopped to talk to you. You had no idea what these new feelings would mean for you going forward. Your friends told you that you should say something but the last thing you wanted is for the feelings to be unreciprocated. He would probably get a new tutor and above all else, you were incredibly proud of his progress and wanted to continue to watch him grow. It had been six weeks since you started tutoring Cregan and the two of you exchanged numbers in case he had questions when you weren’t together. And occasionally he sent you a tik tok or two. You were sitting in the library working on homework when you got his text,

Cregan: Y/n

Cregan: Wya?

You: Main library… why?

Cregan: Second floor in the quiet spot in the back?

You: Yea why what’s up?

Cregan: Okay stay there I’m coming rn

Cregan: Gotta show you something urgently

His last text had you in a cold sweat. What the hell could he possibly have to show you. The thoughts ran rampant in your head. Above all else you hoped he was okay because of the urgency of his text messages. You did your best to refocus on your work but couldn’t help but nervously pick at your nails until you saw him walking down one of the rows of shelves. You stood up as he walked towards you, his steps quick and smile wide. “What is up with you?” You ask confused as he gets close enough and pulls a paper out to show you. When he gets close enough you take it out of his hands and look it over realizing it’s his last math test. At the top circled in red reads, 92.

“Holy shit a 92?!” You say loudly and then remember where you were as he nods his head picking you up easily and spinning you in a circle. You gasp laughing while he spins you around. “Cregan put me down oh my god,” You say in between laughs as he brings you back to the ground softly a big smile on his face.

“This is all because of you. I could have never done this without you,” He sates and you shake your head,

“Absolutely not, I may have pushed you in the right direction but you put the hard work in. I’m so proud of you. I told you I’d make you an A+ student now let’s get that writing grade up,” You say with a smile and comfortable silence falls over the two of you as Cregan admires you. He had always thought you were pretty, but now it was as if the world had sharpened into focus, and he was truly seeing you for the first time. You had a blush on that made your cheeks look adorable, your smile was bright enough to illuminate the room, and your lips looked soft and so kissable. About two minutes go bye before he realizes he has been staring at you for longer than socially acceptable.

“Well I have to get practice, it’s at six, but I wanted to show you my grade first. I knew you’d be proud,” He said and you smiled back at him and then quickly checked your watch the time reading 5:55.

“Cregan you have five minutes and the rink is on the other side of campus,” You say and he nods his head in understanding and shrugs.

“Yeah I know. I still wanted to show you.” He says and you feel your face heat up at his admission. “Oh and I wanted to invite you… and your friends to the hockey house this Saturday. We have off so we’re throwing if you’d like to come. I would personally like you to be there. We can celebrate our big achievement,” He says hopefully trying to gauge your reaction.

“Well if you personally want me there, and I do love celebrating accomplishments. I think I’ll see you there,” You smirk looking at him and watch as he fist pumps the air and starts backing up to leave.

“Awesome. It starts at 10 I’ll see you there,” He says and you wave and watch as he runs out of the library. He ended up being twenty minutes late to practice and did sprints for every minute he missed. It didn’t matter though because you were coming to his party Saturday.

“Y/n you look great c’mon…. It’s already 11,” your roommate says standing at the door with your two other friends you were going out with. You sigh playing with your hair one more time nervously and double checking yourslef in the mirror before you walk over to them and you guys begin the trek from the dorms to hockey house.

“Yeah y/n you look hot I’m sure Cregan will be alllll over you when he sees you” your friend teases running her hands over you while you push her away and everyone laughs.

“Oh shut up all of you let’s just get there it’s cold,” You say wrapping your arms around yourself. Your jeans did the work of keeping your legs warm but the shirt, which you could barely call a top with how little material it was, had you freezing in the January air. The hockey house was in sight with people hanging outside and music blasting out of it. You walk inside with no problems and are immediately greeted by the hot, humid environment. Your friends smile at you, they loved a good party and you smiled back. It has been a while since you went out and you were thankful for the reprieve for how crazy school had been. You guys grab some juice and make your way back to the dancing area. You see Cregan’s friend Jace behind the DJ stand as you and your friends get lost in the music.

After a while your roommate leans over to whisper in your ear so you could hear her “Where is Cregan? I haven’t seen him,” She says and you look around curiously. Between the pregame and the jungle juice you had a nice buzz going as a smile took over your face.

“I’m gonna go get some more juice and look for him I’ll be back,” You say as she nods and goes back to dancing. You find the kitchen to refill your cup and hopefully find Cregan. You walk into the space and look around the people in the room when your cup falls out of your hand. Tears burn at your waterline as you see Cregan and a girl pressed against the counter. Her arms are wrapped securely around his neck while his hands rest on her hips. You clench your fists tightly trying to prevent yourself from crying as you storm away to find your friends.

Cregan pushes the girl away as she looks at him confused while he shakes his head “Sorry I’m not really into this. I’m looking for someone,” He says walking away and going back into the main room looking for you. You find your roommate whispering in her ear,

“I’m ready to go. I need to leave,” You say and she looks at you confused but the glossy nature of your eyes has her nodding her head and taking your hand. Your two other friends stay as you two make your way back to the dorm and you explain what you saw.

Despite being able to see over most of the people there it doesn’t help Cregan find you. It was almost midnight, you should have been here by now. He goes up to the DJ stand to ask Jace,

“Did you see Y/n tonight?” He asks and Jace looks out at the crowd where you once were and sees only the two other girls you came with.

“She was here with those girls over there but it looks like she’s gone,” Jace says going back to spinning and Cregan deflates. It looks out at the crowd defeated before he pulls out his phone text you.

Cregan: Hey, you still coming tonight?

He waits and waits for a resposne but nothing. You see his text and choose to ignore it. When you don’t answer he finds it hard to find fun in this party deciding to call it early. You don’t answer any of Cregan’s texts all weekend and Sunday you send him a text

You: No sessions this week.

Cregan reads the text waiting for an explantion that never comes.

Cregan: Okay… is everything okay?

You: Yup. Not feeling the best

Cregan: Oh ok. Feel better 🙂

Cregan once again waits for a response that never comes. During the week he sends you a few tiktoks that remind him of you, and a couple questions about his class work. However, every one is left on delivered. Whatever bug you caught must have got you good. After practice Friday Cregan wanted to stop by to check up on you but suddenly realized he had no clue where you lived. Remembering Benjicot’s girlfriend was a friend of yours, he asked him to ask her for your building information. In the meantime, he went to the store to grab your favorite snacks, candies, and then employed the help of his sister to find out what else would make a sick girl feel better. By the time he gets back to his car, Ben has sent him your info which makes him smile. A short drive later Cregan finds himself standing before your door and suddenly paralyzed by nerves. What was he doing here? Sure you two had gotten closer in the last few weeks, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him. You also hadn’t responded to him all week, maybe there was a good reason behind this. Maybe what you had was extremely contagious and he was compromising himself. This had to be one of his stupidest ideas yet. All of a sudden the plastic bag in his hand felt like a ton of bricks. But this whole week he’d missed you in a way he didn’t think possible. Without realizing it, you had gently woven yourself into Cregan's heart, becoming someone he cherished more than he ever thought possible. Before he had a chance to talk himself out of this anymore, your door opened and your roommate stood before him. She gulped before yelling over her shoulder,

“Y/n! Someone’s here for you!” She fixes the bag on her shoulder before walking by him “Good luck,” She says walking away. Cregan looks at her confused then back through the door watching as you walk out your room. You didn’t look sick, maybe a little bit sad, but still gorgeous in his eyes. The door was beginning to close so Cregan stepped inside despite not being entirely invited in. He smiles as you get closer holding up the bag but before he can speak you hold up a hand cutting him off,

“Why the hell are you here? I told you no sessions this week. Did your coach not get the email I sent him?” You ask as he looks at you confused.

“Yes I know and yes he did but you said you were sick and you weren’t answering your texts. I figured you were really sick and I wanted to come check up on you and make sure you were okay. You seem fine and well I brought your favorite snacks,” He says trying his luck again holding up the bag with a smile but getting nothing but a glare back from you.

“You really shouldn’t have. Like really shouldn’t have. You can take yourself, and your bag, and get the hell outta here,” You say and Cregan is now completely confused. You have never been this brash with him, even when he was sort of a dick at the beginning of your tutoring sessions. He drops his arm in defeat and tilts his head while looking at you,

“Y/n what is going on? I’m starting to get the sense there is something more going on here,” Cregan says stepping closer to you. You laugh dryly looking at him,

“No shit. I know you were pretty dumb but you have to be smarter by now,” You say and watch as Cregan takes a step back and you watch hurt immediately fill his eyes. Now you feel your heart wrench. You should not have said that. That cold feeling wraps around your spine the same way it did all those weeks ago at seeing the sad look in Cregan’s eyes. Despite how much you might be hurting that was a blow too low and you knew deep down you didn’t mean it. You pinch the bridge of your nose taking a deep breath “I’m sorry Cregan. That was- fucked up. You aren’t dumb I promise I’m just. I don’t want to speak to you,” You say looking at him again as he rests the bag on your coffee table.

“Okay… Can I ask where this is coming from or are you going to call me dumb again?” He asks and you sigh suddenly feeling like the one that’s the dick. You cross your arms across your chest and let yourself speak without thinking,

“Maybe you should ask the girl whose tongue you had down your throat. I’m sure she has all the answers you’re looking for,” You say snarkily while rolling your eyes at the image. Cregan feels his eye twitch because since the door opened he has only gotten more confused. He closes his eyes so he can think hard about what you’re talking about and then remembers on Saturday there was this random girl that kissed him. But he doesn’t know how you could have seen that because it lasted no more than thirty seconds. He did not want to kiss her, maybe you but you left before he could find you.

“That random girl from the party? She kissed me first and it didn’t last very long. Why would you even care about it?” Cregan asks the big picture to all of this still lost to him. Y/n puts her head in her hands laughing before looking at him once again,

“You cannot be serious right now. You must be joking. Like this is some big prank right?” You ask as Cregan shakes his head no. “I like you stupid. Holy shit I fucking like you. A lot more than I should and I know this is what I get for liking an athlete and especially one of you hockey guys. All you do is play girls and break hearts and that’s what I get for liking you. Fucking stupid I am to think you would like me back. You’re right I don’t know why I would care about you kissing some random girl all I am to you is a means to an end. On that note you know how inappropriate this is because I literally tutor you so-” you are cut off by Cregan pressing a searing kiss to your lips. His large hand grips your hip while the other cups your face. After about a minute he pulls away to look at you.

“Sorry, you were rambling. Y/n I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I know the reputation of the guys on my team. I’m here to tell you I’m not like them. At the moment that probably isn’t believable, but I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to prove you otherwise. I’m not here to break your heart, I don’t do that. Especially to a woman like you. You are truly one of a kind. I kissed her, but it ended almost as quickly as it began—because at that moment, I knew she wasn’t the one my heart truly longed for. That day in the library I should have told you this, but I was scared. I’m not scared now though. I don’t like you being mad at me, at all. Whatever by laws we are breaking by being together, fuck it. You are worth indefinite academic probabtion. I don’t wanna speak for you but I would like to see where this goes. Me and you. A relationship outside of you being my teacher.” He says with a smile at the end as you look at him smiling and then slap him softly which takes him by shock.

“If I ever, ever catch you kissing another girl I’m cutting your dick off and I’m not fucking playing.” you say and Cregan thinks about laughing but your glare levels him and he nods his head quickly. Now it is your turn to smile and pull him to press another one of those searing kisses to your lips. It was everything you imagined it to be and more. You pull away to catch your breath and hold him close, “I hope you know this doesn’t mean I’m letting up on you at all,” You say and Cregan smile reflects yours.

“I expected nothing less. I hope you know this means I will be accepting kisses as rewards for good grades. And maybe a little more later on.” he whispers pinching your butt and making you giggle before pressing his lips against yours one more time.

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