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kingkaisen · 2 months ago

Note

suggestion for your dad gojo series?idk if it’s too heavy so feel free to skip!!reader is chronically ill and/OR the kids worry that she has a terminal disease because she’s been very sick and weak lately, so they call gojo (who’s away on a mission) with over exaggerated claims on reader’s health and practically beg him to come back home. This could be either an actual illness or maybe something more lighthearted, like reader just has the flu etc and the kids are just being dramatic

“IS SHE GONNA DIE?!”

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary. All you need to know is that you & Satoru recently adopted two of Satoru’s students: Megumi & Yuji, and you also have young biological daughter.

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Satoru gave your son, Yuji, one job: keep everyone safe while he was gone. So why, just why, were you practically on your death bed?

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: Tiny bit of angst but this is overall lighthearted, suicide joke, general descriptions of being unwell, your family loves you much they assume the worst when you sneeze to be honest!

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4K

When Satoru Gojo wasn’t around, Yuji considered himself to be the man of the house, thank you very much.

Did anyone officially bestow such a title upon him? No, not technically. But Satoru was parting on a month-long mission to a different continent, and before he walked out of the front door — and after he showered your face with kisses, playfully tossed your daughter in the air, and ruffled Megumi’s hair — he, too, ruffled his other student-turned-adopted son’s head of pinkish hair and said, “keep everyone safe, Yuji.”

Yuji’s brown eyes widened but then closed as he smiled brightly.

“You got it!” He gave Satoru a thumbs up, and that was that.

Therefore, when it came to day eight of Keeping Everyone Safe, Yuji found himself pacing back and forth outside of the bathroom door, gripping strands of his messy hair with his trembling hands.

He heard a few faint coughs from the other side of the door. He halted his footsteps. Knocking gently, he waited for a response, but one never came.

“Mom? Are you okay?” He called out. “You’ve been in there a while.”

No response.

Yuji pressed his ear against the door, listening for any sign of life, and yet again, only silence acknowledged him.

He took several steps back, preparing to launch himself at the door to break it down. If you got upset with him for doing so, so be it — at least your lecture would mean that you were alright.

“Three . . . Two . . . One . . .” Yuji thought, but before he could break out into a sprint full-speed ahead, Megumi suddenly turned the corner of the hallway, giving Yuji a puzzled look.

“What are you doing now?” Megumi scratched the side of his head.

“Stand back, I’m about to bust the door down.”

“Why?”

“Mom’s been in the bathroom for a long time,” Yuji turned his head to look at Megumi’s expressionless face. “I don’t know if she’s throwing up or bleeding out or unconscious . . . and she won’t answer me, so I’m gonna break in.”

Yuji looked the door up and down as if sizing up an opponent.

“What if she’s leaning against the door? She’ll get hurt,” Megumi said.

“Got a better idea?”

“Yeah. It’s called respecting her privacy. If she’s not feeling well, just give her a little time.”

“But she’s not answering me.” Yuji frowned. His face resembled that of a kicked puppy. Turning around, he leaned his back against the bathroom door. “She’s fine, right? She probably just ate something bad for dinner last night, right?”

Megumi glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowed — a telltale sign that he was thinking. “If that was the case, I think we’d all be sick, considering we all ate the same thing.”

“No, no, remember a couple months ago when we ordered pizza and-”

“And you got sick, and I didn’t. I remember. I’m pretty sure that was because I had one slice, and you ate the majority of the box without pacing yourself. But, putting all that aside, if she is sick, it can’t be from something she ate. She’s been coming down with something for four days now, at least.”

“Huh?” Yuji raised his eyebrows. “How do you know?”

Megumi sighed. “It’s been taking her a long time to do simple tasks. Her eyes are sunken in, and she’s been pretty quiet lately as well. She also-”

“Oh my god, she’s gonna die.” Yuji found himself sitting on the floor, his fingers, yet again, pulling at the strands of his hair. “She’s been dying for four days and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m sure she’s not going to die-”

“Megumi, If she dies, I’m just gonna end it all, ‘cause I won’t be the one to tell dad that his wife died. No way. I had one job, to keep everyone safe! She could already be dead, you know, just lying on the bathroom floor, dead. Our mom. Deceased. How do we explain this to Maya? To Dad? Remember how he reacted when she caught a cold? This is bad, this is really-”

Suddenly, the door opened. Yuji nearly fell backward onto the bathroom floor but quickly caught himself before turning around to stare up at you.

“I can hear you,” you mumbled.

Oh, how pitiful you looked. Your eyes were sunken, your voice barely above a whisper.

Megumi gathered that, perhaps, you were replying to Yuji earlier, but if your current volume was as loud as your voice could get right now, it was no wonder he couldn’t hear you through the door.

“Mom! Are you okay? What’s going on?” Yuji sprung to his feet.

“I think you should see a doctor,” Megumi added.

“I’m fine, boys,” you whispered, slowly walking past them, and making your way down the hallway. “I’m just . . . I need to lay down.”

Yuji and Megumi exchanged a look. A slew of dangerous missions carried out alongside one another had gifted the two brothers the ability to tell an entire tale with just their facial expressions. One twitch of the brow and flicker of the eye, and Megumi knew just what Yuji wanted to ask him: Should we call the doctor anyway?

Yuji however, often struggled to read Megumi’s expressions, as the black-haired boy’s face was as blank as a fresh canvas more often than not. And right now, as Megumi did nothing more than glance back and forth between a worried Yuji and your slow-walking figure, disappearing into the depths of the house.

He didn’t know what to do.

Three hours later, Yuji ran his knife through the prepared sandwich sitting on the wooden cutting board on top of the kitchen island, slicing what would become his little sister’s dinner into two triangles.

“I’m not a chef, you know, but I made you the best sandwich ever, trust me.” Yuji put the halved sandwich on a plate. He then passed it to the young girl standing beside him, or at least, he tried to.

Though Maya had tugged on his pants leg ten minutes prior, pouting because she was hungry and you were still asleep, she folded her arms and poked her bottom lip out, refusing to take the plate.

“No,” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Yuji frowned, tilting his head a tad. “Didn’t the best girl on the planet just tell me she wanted a super-duper-awesome sandwich?”

“I don’t want that! I miss mommy, and I miss daddy too. Can you get them?”

Oh, he understood.

Of course, Satoru was away, and poor Maya missed her dear dad even when he was gone for a couple of hours, let alone eight days.

He was the person she ran to when she came home from a playdate or preschool. He was the person she ran to when she woke up from a nap. When she wanted to share her snacks. When Barbie did something super-duper-awesome in her favorite movie.

And never, not once, had he greeted his little muffin with anything less than a big smile, no matter how he was feeling. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to run up to Dad and be lifted into the air and spun around and around as he talked to her sweetly and she giggled wildly.

However, you were still home, but in a lot of ways, you weren’t around either, hardly any different from an introverted ghost, haunting the hallways but not truly engaging with the residents who occupied it.

For Maya to turn down food because she missed you, must have meant she had grown tired of sandwiches and whatever else Yuji and Megumi tried to give her today. She wanted your cooking — for her mother to hand her a warm plate of yummy and nutritious food with a heartwarming smile and a forehead kiss.

“Mom’s sick right now, remember?” Yuji said gently. “So we need to do what we can to make things easier for her. And Dad will be back before you know it, you’ll see.”

The young girl still refused to take the sandwich.

Yuji got down on his knees. He, once again, tried to hand her the plate.

“C’mon, Maya Papaya. Don’t you wanna grow up to be big and strong? Only way to do that is to eat your sandwich.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head.

Yuji sighed, rising to his feet. Perhaps, Megumi could coax her into taking a few bites, at least.

However, just as Yuji was about to shout his name, he heard slow-moving, shuffling footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Mommy!” Maya squealed excitedly at the sight of you.

She ran for you, the gentle pitter-patter of her feet was yet loud enough to snap you out of the daze-like state you were in, almost as if you were sleepwalking. Introverted ghost.

Your daughter wrapped her small arms around you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you mumbled, reaching down to ruffle her hair.

“Forget about the sandwich, Yuji. I can cook,” you gave your worried son a tired smile.

“Are you sure?” He asked, frowning.

You nodded, making your way to the kitchen sink once Maya released you. It was filled with dishes unsuitable for the dishwasher, such as precious mugs.

“You don’t have to do that, I was gonna wash ‘em,” Yuji said. Cleaning wasn’t his favorite activity, but he loved the idea of chores. It was domestic. Loving. Parents gave their children chores, and therefore, having them was his reminder that he was, indeed, someone’s child now.

He always helped fold laundry or took out the garbage with a smile on his face.

“I got it.” Your voice was weak. “Can you take Maya upstairs?”

Maya frowned, whining, “but mommy.”

“I promise I’ll . . .” you paused, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. Yuji watched the unsteady rise and fall of your shoulders. “I promise I’ll play with you later. We’ll sing, I’ll tuck you in, anything you could want. Just give me a minute. Please.”

“C’mon, Maya,” Yuji took the young girl’s hand, and though you couldn’t see your son’s face, he gave you a sympathetic, anxious look, silently praying that you were okay. “Let’s give mom some alone time, okay?”

They left the kitchen with much hesitation, but the alone time Yuji spoke of didn’t last long. Two minutes, to be exact.

You recognized the footsteps easily, a sound that blended in with the sink’s running water. The footsteps were soft, and they weren’t accompanied by a greeting, a sigh, a clearing of the throat, or any sort of noise that would unintentionally announce his presence.

Your quiet son joined you at the sink without a word, picking up a wet, clean dish with one hand and a drying rag with the other.

“I can do it myself, Megumi.”

“You always let me help,” Megumi paused. “You don’t have to overwork yourself. You shouldn’t be working at all if you want to feel better.”

It was true. You always let him help. Bonding with Megumi wasn’t the easiest task in the world. Unlike Yuji, who saw you and Satoru as parents and your house as his home even before you officially adopted him almost a year ago, Megumi struggled to fit in, to get used to parental love and family games and movie nights. But slowly, and quite slowly he was adjusting to being a son. Your son.

And washing dishes together was one activity you both did together regularly. It had gotten to a point where you left the dishwasher completely abandoned and void of dirty dishes that cluttered the sink all so you could prolong your time with your quiet boy.

It was a comfortable silence more often than not, but when he was in the mood to chat, he would tell you about his day. His plans for the week. How well he was recovering from his latest mission. And that little chatter? It made your day.

And he knew it.

Therefore, for you to attempt to dismiss him made him all the more worried about your health, as if he could get any more worried. After all, while Yuji was making their little sister a sandwich, he was surfing the web, googling endlessly about your symptoms.

It was pointless. All of his results ranged from a small cold to stage four cancer.

Megumi’s steady eyes trailed over your weakened frame. Your hands trembled around the dish they attempted to scrub. You blinked slowly. Along with that, your voice was so soft, he could barely hear you.

You suddenly dropped the dish into your hands. It hit the sink harder than you attended. You closed your eyes for a long period, long enough for Megumi to reach over and tap your arm.

“I’m not sick, honey. I’m going to . . .” you whispered. “I’m going to fold the laundry, cook the kitchen, and clean dinner. I mean . . . I’m gonna cook dinner and . . .”

Your words trailed off into nothing.

Megumi put down the glass plate in his hands.

Your head started to move back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Nonsensical mumblings fell from between your lips.

Your field of vision, which amounted to a blurry mess, suddenly became vast darkness. You went weak at the knees, and started to fall backwards.

“Mom!”

Your fainting spell lasted a couple of seconds in truth, but that was enough time for you to find yourself on the couch with a blanket draped over you, staring at the hazy living room ceiling with two things on your mind: the bizarre realization that you had, in fact, fainted, and the even more bizarre realization that Megumi had, in fact, — though in a panicked state — called you mom. For the very first time.

If you had the energy, you would have smiled.

But truth be told — and you tried shoving away the undeniable truth for quite a while — you barely had the energy to open your eyelids.

The only reason you fought to keep your eyes open was to show your boys that you were, indeed, conscious and alive, to hopefully, ease the muffled, panicked voices of your sons arguing right beside you, though you could hardly make out their words.

“I’m calling Dad.”

“Yuji-”

“No, no, no, I don’t care what you say-”

“If you’d let me speak for once, I was going to say that I should call Satoru, and you call an ambulance,” Megumi folded his arms across his chest, grateful that, according to Yuji, Maya was occupied with her dollhouse right now.

“This is bad. Is she gonna die? She can’t die, Megumi,” Yuji approached the couch, tears brewing in the reddened waterline of his light brown eyes. As he pulled the blanket higher until it practically touched your chin, he said, “I’m so tired of losing people. We can’t let her die.”

“Don’t call,” you mumbled.

“Mom,” Yuji sniffled.

“Don’t call.”

“You just fainted!” Yuji glanced back at Megumi who stood a little ways behind him. “Me and Megumi aren’t . . . we don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t want you to die,” Megumi brought his hand to his lips, fighting the strong urge to bite at the skin around his thumb. “I’ll make some tea.”

“Yeah, tea’s good, get her some tea! Hurry!” As Yuji spoke, he pulled out his phone and opened his dial screen.

“Yuji, please . . .” You weakly turned your head to face him.

Your boy’s hair was starting to grow longer. Time for a haircut. He also looked more pale than usual. Pale with worry, perhaps? Worry . . . worry . . . That’s right. You were worried about their school uniforms. They needed to be washed soon, by tomorrow, at least. You were worried about the groceries, or lack thereof. A run would need to be made soon. Megumi and Yuji’s favorite snacks and meals were predictable, but Maya, what would she want? Oh goodness, she was no longer a fan of sandwiches anymore. Maya . . . that’s right. You promised your sweet girl you would spend time with her, where was she? Did she truly want you, though, or were you nothing more than a substitute for her favorite person, Satoru? How was Satoru doing on his mission? He texted you earlier, but you forgot to respond. You needed to message him back. What else . . . what else was there to worry about? Oh.

No one had a proper dinner tonight. You needed to cook. And those dishes, they needed to be put away into their proper place . . . wait, just wait. You needed to wash Megumi and Yuji’s school uniforms tonight, because tomorrow, you would be too busy taking Maya to daycare. At least grocery shopping could be done afterward- damn it. No, it couldn’t. Tomorrow was Parent Day at Maya’s daycare, a day filled with bonding activities, and you’d show up, even if it killed you. You’d just have to grocery shop afterward, but those uniforms? They needed to be washed tonight . . . and dinner-

“What’re you mumbling about?” Yuji asked.

Only then did you realize your racing thoughts were trying to be vocalized. You shook your head and tried to get off of the couch, but Yuji gently gripped your shoulders and guided you back down.

“No, no, no. No moving. You need to go to the hospital. You’re so weak, and-and you can barely speak. I’m trying not to freak out.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue, but the look of despair on your face at the idea of being hospitalized was enough to make Yuji hesitate.

“I’m gonna call Dad, at least. Don’t try to stop me.”

Yuji kneeled beside the couch, watching you with worried eyes as he pressed his phone against his ear.

Satoru answered after a few rings.

“Dad? I’m pretty sure mom’s dying-” Yuji stopped speaking abruptly. “You’re already on the way home?”

—

When your eyes fluttered open again — only then did you realize they had closed — your blurry vision wasn’t attempting to focus in on the ceiling this time around. But at your husband’s black blindfold and pouty lips.

His concerned face was merely inches away from yours. His long fingers suddenly curled around his blindfold, and he pulled it down, revealing his worry-filled blue eyes and pinched brows.

Just how long had it been since Yuji called him? Did you blink, and he seemingly appeared in an instant? Or did you slip into a realm of unconsciousness for a couple of days?

What were the terms and conditions regarding his teleportation ability? Surely he couldn’t have done so all the way from . . . just where was he, again? Africa? Australia? How long had he been gone this time around, anyway? Wait a second . . . if Satoru didn’t teleport, and days have flown by, then you were falling behind! The laundry, the groceries, and Parent Day. Oh no, did you miss Parent Day? On top of breaking your promise to spend time with Maya? But no . . . it seemed like it was the same day, as if time hadn’t changed . . . and what day was that again? Sunday? Was it-

“Baby,” Satoru stroked your cheek softly as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He knew you better than he knew himself, and that look in your exhausted eyes told him that your mind was wandering endlessly. It was no wonder you ended up in your current predicament. “Stop worrying. Try to relax that chaotic mind of yours.”

“She’s dying, right?” Yuji rubbed his face with his hand out of pure exhaustion. “Does she need to go to the hospital?”

Satoru couldn’t help but look back at Yuji and frown. When the teenager called him, his voice laced with sheer panic, Satoru’s entire world stopped. He thought he was going to lose you, the amazing woman who was his first crush, who made him blush and fumble over his words when he was a lovesick first-year, who later became his girlfriend, then his wife, and the mother of his children. Describing you as the love of his life wasn’t enough; you were his soulmate in every lifetime. He was certain of it.

But you weren’t lying on the side of the road, bleeding to death after a drunk driver swerved and slammed into you like he imagined, nor were you suffering from an incurable, terminal illness.

“She’s just dehydrated.”

Megumi and Yuji widened their eyes at Satoru’s words.

“What?” Megumi blinked.

“All this time, she’s just been thirsty?” Yuji paused. “That’s it?”

“You could put it that way, yeah. My overworked wife forgets to drink enough water to make up for the amount of work she does. This has happened before. Twice, actually. I’m not surprised her blood pressure dropped and she fainted. Poor thing’s exhausted.” Satoru rose to his feet, scooping you up in his arms. “I’m gonna take her to get some IV fluids. But don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”

Megumi sighed with relief. Yuji collapsed on the couch, tossing his arm over his eyes.

“She’ll be fine,” Yuji repeated Satoru’s words in his head. “She’ll be fine.”

“Get some rest, you two,” Satoru said to his sons, glancing back and forth between both of them. “Unless you wanna end up like your poor mom.”

And with that, Satoru left.

When a healthcare professional inserted an IV into your veins, slowly, but surely, you started to feel like yourself again, as if you were being revived. You looked at your dear husband’s face.

And it wasn’t the same look of calmness and reassurance he had around Megumi and Yuji. That brave face no longer existed. Instead, his rosy cheeks were wet with tears. Redness circled the blue of his eyes, and his white hair was a fluffy mess. He was a mess.

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I wasn’t trying to die of thirst, I promise.”

With a trembling hand, he reached out and ran his thumb across your knuckles, releasing a shaky sigh. After all, this was the same man who could hardly pull himself together when you had a small cold.

“Not gonna lecture me?” You said with a tired, yet small grin.

“Can’t do that,” Satoru sniffled. “This is my fault at the end of the day. If I was home, I would’ve been able to help you out, and-”

“Your work is important, Satoru,” You paused, leaning your head back against your chair. Darting your eyes to the bag responsible for injecting fluids into your vein, you said, “Don’t let something as silly as me forgetting to chug enough water get in the way.”

“Excuse me?” Satoru looked at you, baffled. As if you had suddenly slapped him. “You’re my precious, amazing, beautiful wife? The best thing that’s ever happened to me? I will always prioritize you over anything. My world stops when I hear you cough two times in a row.”

“Seems like you passed that urge to panic over my health on to our kids as well,” You smiled, then suddenly your smile grew brighter. You didn’t know it, but the sight of your grin made Satoru’s heart skip a beat, just like it often did back when he was nothing more than an awkward teenager with a crush on you.

“Speaking of our kids, guess what Megumi did?” Your eyes glistened with excitement.

“What?” Satoru smiled.

“Guess.”

“Okay, umm,” Satoru leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. “He actually told you he needed something?”

“Nope.”

“He . . . Oh, I got it, you two did the dishes together again. That always makes you happy. That’s gotta be it, right?”

“Nope!” You shook your head. “Well, we did, but that’s not what I wanted you to guess.”

“Fineee, I give up,” Satoru said.

“He called me mom.” Your joyous words were accompanied by teary eyes. “He was worried, and it just slipped out, but he did it, Satoru. Should I bring it up and tell him how much it meant to me, or should I pretend it never happened? Probably the latter, right? I don’t want him to feel embarrassed. I think I’ll cook him something special to eat, kinda as a way of acknowledging what happened and letting him know I’m grateful without actually bringing up the fact he called me mom. Do you think it’ll happen again?”

Suddenly, Satoru rose from his seat, leaned over, and planted a soft kiss against your lips.

“What was that for?” You asked though you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re just so . . .” The words were lost- no, not lost. Mere words simply weren’t strong enough to describe you, and his mind went blank as he leaned in, giving you yet another soft kiss. “God, and you have the nerve to wonder why everyone freaks out over the idea of something bad happening to you.”

Another kiss. Then another. Each one deeper and lasting longer than the one prior.

Your husband wasn’t one to shy away from public affection, and though you were in a private urgent care room, you couldn’t help but grow nervous over the idea of getting caught.

“Cut it out, we’re in public. Have some decorum,” you mumbled when he pulled away for a brief moment, strands of his white hair tickling your head.

“Yeah, yeah, something decor, I hear you,” Satoru kissed you yet again. “One more.”

One more turned into three, but eventually, he sat back down in his own seat. There, he stayed, holding your hand, using his thumb to toy with the wedding ring on your finger.

— NEXT PART

@marvel-girl3 @goldenglow149 @luaqsv @sstoru @pinkfemdolly @satorusgummies @therealmrsgojo @leehriie @iminlovewqr0w @odessa-is-my-queen @melodycelos @stoneaf

#satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #Satoru Gojo #gojo x reader fluff #dad!gojo #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

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c4tluver02 · 7 days ago

Text

lucky

wc: 1.7k

summary: After coming home to a silent apartment Spencer looks around for you, how lucky is he to find you all soapy and pretty!

cw: r is taking a bath, mentions of being naked, hair long enough to be in a bun, mentions of serial killers (typical cm stuff), fluffy :D

a/n: my first spence fic......... pls lmk if you like this or hate it ive only written for Steve so anything is appreciated !!!! but bare w me ill get better at writing him!

Coming home to you after a case is one of Spencer's favorite things on this planet. Especially on nights like tonight where he comes home earlier than he said he would, catching you by surprise.

He was lucky to feel this. To be able to leave everything that's been on his mind from the case at the door. All the stress and statistics about serial killers slides off of his shoulders, melting away with ease. It’s because he knows when he opens the front door a smell of a candle will fill his senses, sometimes dinner, and you’ll be there with a big smile just from seeing him.

Another thing he was lucky to have. Someone being truly happy by just seeing him. You're big smile paired with his shirt you stole from your shared closet and shorts that should be considered underwear there's that short, not that Spencer minds of course. Yes, he has to get into the mind of horrible people or skip a Christmas but at the end of the day he comes home to you. The only word he can think of is lucky.

So when he makes his way to the door, pushing his key into the lock there's already a smile on his face. He likes to take guesses at where he’s gonna find you. Maybe on the couch watching a show that he’ll get grumpy about because you said you could watch it together, or perhaps cooking dinner. He doesn't think you’re cooking dinner because it’s quite late, you've probably already eaten and got ready for bed.

However, if there's one thing his job has spread to you, it’s a horrible sleep schedule. You will definitely still be up even at the late hour so it’s really a guessing game as to where you’ll be. Still Spencer guesses the couch.

But before his eyes even make it to the couch his ears beat him. There's no sound coming from the TV, nothing from the kitchen. Matter of fact there's not even any lights on. So maybe work didn't leave him the second he walked through the door because his first thought was if someone was here. Someone who turned off all the lights and tv and even locked the door on the way out. But after a split second he tried to think rationally, y’know, how a normal human would think.

“Babe?” He yelled out, but there was no reply.

This whole time he was stuck by the front door, unable to move from the weird state he found himself in. But the need to find you unglued him, making his way to the office you two share. It’s really Spencer's office, filled with all of his books and files. However there was your big computer and awards from your job that filled the leftover space. A mix of both of you in one small room.

When you weren't in there he thought to look in the bedroom. People go to bed early, you never do but there's a first time for everything. But as he opened the door the lights in this room were off as well. Flicking the switch to turn them on, he didn't find your body snuggled up in the covers. There was no sign that you had even been there since this morning when he kissed you goodbye, barely waking you up from your REM sleep to let you know he’s leaving.

His last idea was to look into the bathroom, he had no hope for you to be in there but at this point you weren't anywhere to be seen so for him not to go crazy he gave in.

And thankfully he did because there you were with your eyes closed, headphones on as you relaxed in the bathtub. The only source of light in there was a few candles and a night light plugged into the wall. You weren't even aware he had found you, let alone that he was even home yet. He was supposed to be gone for a few more hours.

Spencer held his hand over his heart, feeling the severe beating that his heart was doing from the idea that you weren't home. Yet here you were safe and sound, not a single worry in the world. He could feel the pulse in his toes but once his body relaxes he tries to find a way to get your attention without scaring you.

He could shut the door loudly hoping that would get your attention, or maybe knocking on it really loud. Or tapping you on the shoulder, however he feels like that wouldn't be too smart. In fact, he’d probably get wet. But maybe then he’d have a reason to get into the bath with you.

As he stands there thinking you finally open your eyes. The yelp you let out knocks him out of his head and he even jumps.

“Holy shit Spence, what are you doing?” Him watching over you was not what you were expecting to see. The water around you moves from your movement as you take off your headphones.

“M’sorry I just found you in here but I was thinking of a way not to scare you.” Finally he can get close to you, lowering himself to be eye level with you.

“Oh, well I mean it could have used some more thinking.” Your hair is up in a bun but there are still some pieces in the back that are curling from the steam of the water. You look really pretty in this lighting, skin all shiny and glowing.

He lets out a smile which you immediately copy, happy to see him now that he’s here. “I know sorry.” It comes out sheepishly. “Why are all the lights off?” His hand rubs your knuckles that are holding onto the lip of the tub.

“I had the worst headache, all the lights were making it worse.” You scoot your body to face him and it makes Spencer want to just jump in with you right now.

“I’m sorry angel, why didn't you call to tell me? I could've come home.” This got him a laugh in response, no way you're gonna stop him from his work because you have a headache.

“You have way more important things to do, plus you wouldn't have been able to do anything.”

“Sorry, do you know you’re talking to the king of migraines?”

“Well, yes I do! But I promise it really wasn't that bad, it’s already gone.” You're lying your head on his hand now and Spencer can't believe he hasn't gotten a kiss to greet him yet.

“Since you're back to perfect health, kisses?”

To meet his lips you lift yourself up a little and this is when Spencer remembers you have to be naked to take a bath. The bubbles stick to your skin just enough to tease him and your lips meet his before he could look anymore. His dry hand meets your dewy face and pulls you even closer, anymore and you’d fall out of the tub. Kneeling on your knees, a squeal comes out of you when you feel his other hand grab onto your waist. All this kissing is making you cold, the hot water no longer surrounding you. It’s what brings you back into the bubbles.

“D’you wanna get ready for bed?”

“Sure, can you get me a towel pretty please?”

The only response you get is a head shake and a smile because how were you gonna get it if he wasn't here? Still he gets you one with no complaining. He can hear the water draining and you blowing out the candles that created the littlest bit of light in the bathroom. It’s not pitch black when he hands you the towel but it’s enough that he holds onto your arm to make sure you dont trip getting out of the tub.

While you dry off Spencer turns the bedroom lights off and the small lamps on. Two cute lamps that sit on your side tables leaving a perfect warm hue to the room. He’s even kind enough to get you a cup of ice cold water. When you first started dating he would always tell you that the water temperature you liked would make you sweat everything out, leaving you dehydrated. It had something to do with the steam and heat but your mind couldn't quote the scientific explanation he gave you.

When he comes back with the water the light in the bathroom is back and you’re doing your skin care. It makes him hurry to put the cup on the table to meet you there, knowing after this you brush your teeth, and you always brush your teeth together.

“How was work?” You’re putting on some type of lotion, Spencer keeps making notes to himself to look at what type it is so he can look it up and figure out what about it is so good for it to be $70 but he always gets sidetracked.

“It was good, Derek tripped today and spilt coffee all over himself, probably my favorite moment of the day.” He says as he sits on the lid of the toilet watching you.

He tells you a little more about catching the killer and what his issue was, he never wants to tell you too much. You don't want to know the gory details and he doesn't want to bring them back up so it's a few questions then over with. Once you're done with the skin care you grab his toothbrush and get it ready for him, following up with your own. Both of you work in sync, multitasking as you slip your towel off to put underwear on while Spencer takes his shirt off. It doesn't take long for you to be ready for the night, turning off your lamp and getting into bed.

Spencer keeps his on to read a little before he goes to bed but it doesn't stop you from snuggling up into him, your head laying in the crook of his neck. He can feel a little kiss you give his shoulder and in return he gives your forehead a kiss.

“Can you read it out loud please?” It’s muffled from your mouth smooshed into his shoulder but he understands what you said.

He gets through a whole chapter till he feels a change in your breathing. Another chapter is read but this time in his head before he decides it’s time to get some sleep himself. As he looks at you dead asleep Spencer can't help but think of himself as the luckiest man alive.

#spencer reid #bau #doctor spencer reid #writing #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fanfiction

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heartsriki · 6 months ago

Text

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyes, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click (optional)

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bitterreid · 20 days ago

Text

🍒 Cherry Red 🍒

Summary: The cars need work, but Eddie is… distracted. By you. And ice cream. --- (My Clementine <- here you can find my other mechanic!Eddie fics :))

Word count: 4.6k (fluff/smut)

Contains: fem!reader x mechanic!Eddie, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, Eddie is down bad (as he should be), even more incorrect car facts probably, woops, porn w plot

A/N: you guys requested a part two and I am a girl of the people!!! So here it is!!! PLEASE let me know what you think, because I was SO happy reading all the positive feedback on part one :)) and lmk if anyone would want a part 3!!!!! <3

⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie had been going mental.

It had been two days since he last saw you, and Eddie was sure no weekend in his entire life had ever lasted this long. He had laid about, tried not to melt during this ongoing heat wave Hawkins kept trying to drown him in, and mostly just thought of you. Non-stop. Whatever he tried, the image of your pretty face between his thighs kept popping up behind his eyelids every time he so much as blinked.

He was very much aware of how pathetic he was, truly, as he stared at his reflection in his tiny bathroom mirror. His big brown eyes peered back at themselves in the swipe he had cleared off the fogged up glass with his fingers. He touched his hair. Again. And Again, and again and a few hundred times over until he groaned in frustration and dragged his hands down his face. He had probably spent more time grooming himself this morning than he had in the rest of his life.

Unsatisfied with the end result (the heat and humidity made his curls extra puffy), Eddie dragged himself out of the bathroom and to his uncle's van.

"You ready, kid?" Wayne asked as Eddie finally hoisted himself into the passenger's seat.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Eddie mumbled, winding down the window to feel the soft summer breeze on his face. It was only 7:30 in the morning, which meant that the excruciating temperatures that were to come had not yet fully woken up. Instead, Eddie welcomed the mellow warmth on his face, closing his eyes to mentally prepare himself to face you again.

He had no idea how today would go. Friday had been his literal dream come true, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen had just - somehow - liked his awkward charm enough to give him the best present of his life, but how did he act now? Was it a one time thing? Would you suddenly ignore him now? Eddie felt a sinking feeling at the thought of it. He really liked you, he realised somewhat hesitantly. Because he knew very well that there was a huge difference between a heat-of-the-moment kind of fling and the soft, colourful-winged nerves he felt fluttering around inside his body. He just hoped you felt the same.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie spent the day on high alert. With every move he made, he was painstakingly aware you could be watching. You weren't, of course, so Eddie looked like a fool every time he turned around in his (definitely not practiced in front of a mirror or anything) movie-like manner, to an empty door frame, or worse, Wayne, who gave him increasingly weirded out looks.

He was starting to lose hope. Maybe it had meant nothing to you, maybe you had meant nothing by it, maybe you hadn't thought of him at all since that night, maybe you didn't like him, maybe he had done something wrong, maybe he-

"JESUS! Oh my god- oh you have to stop doing that!" Eddie blurted out, steadying himself on one of the cars.

You stood beside him, close enough so he could smell the sweet vanilla-like scent of your perfume. You were even more beautiful that he remembered, the ache in his chest told him without uncertainty. And you had a love for scaring the living shit out of him, apparently, as he gathered from the satisfied smile on your lips.

"Hi Eddie, good morning," you said, voice betraying no ill intentions.

"Good morning," was all Eddie managed, paired with a smile he hoped was not as awkward as it was in his mind. This was just typical. He had daydreamed about what to say to you all weekend, played out entire conversations in his head, and now he was reduced to a nervous mess in front of you.

"How are the cars behaving today?" you asked, stalking around the one he was working on, "This one is notorious, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, yeah, this one's feisty," Eddie said while lightly smacking the side of the car like it was a horse, "she's a real piece of work."

"Hmm," you mused, sitting down on one of the stools in the garage, "she's pretty though."

"Yeah," Eddie wrung the oil and grease stained rag he wiped his hands on between his fingers, "real pretty." It was unclear to himself whether he was still talking about the car.

Wayne had gone out to fetch a part for one of the Mustangs in the town over, so it was just you and Eddie in the sweltering heat trapped inside the garage. Had you waited until Wayne left to be alone with him? The thought alone made his heart skip a beat.

"So, uh, how've you been?" was the only sentence his scrambled brain could produce on the spot, somehow.

You smiled at him as if you saw right through him, "Melting, mostly, what about you?"

"Yeah, same…" Eddie internally cursed himself for his total lack of social skills, "real uh, real warm." He could about die right now, yeah.

You snickered at him, luckily more in a (dare he say it?) affectionate way than a mean one, to Eddie's surprise and delight. "Right on, Munson," you said, "Hey, would it be okay if I just hung around here for a while? Just reading all alone in an empty house is just a tad sad, you know?" you asked while producing a book, seemingly out of thin air.

Eddie couldn't agree to your request fast enough, "Y-yeah! Sure, sure."

"Alright, don't mind me, don't want to distract you," your smile was sweet, comforting in a warm way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

But distract him, you surely did. Eddie was a mess in your presence, no one needed to spell that out for him, but just the mere fact that you were now sitting a mere few steps away from him messed up his brain to a fatal degree. He spilled oil, screwed bolts on the wrong way, tried to open a hood that was already open, and that was all in the first ten minutes. Meanwhile, you seemed completely unbothered.

But for Eddie, the unspoken events from a couple of days ago hung in between you, making the air he was trying to breathe thick and syrupy. He didn't know what to do with himself, somehow completely enamoured with the simple sight of you reading a book, but nervous to his core when he thought about starting a mere conversation.

He was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of you snapping your book shut. You stretched your limbs, your top riding up to expose a sliver of your waist that Eddie was sure would come back to haunt him in his daydreams and nightmares alike. You looked up at him, and Eddie suddenly realised he had been frozen in place, bending over one of the motors, screwdriver in hand, frozen mid-air. He quickly straightened up, going for unbothered and casual. (he was neither)

"Hey so, would you like to go get ice cream later?"

Eddie felt like he had been hit over the head with a lottery ticket. You had just… asked him out. Why didn't that cross his mind? Why didn't he do that? "Yeah!" he blurted, quickly reigning himself back in, "Yeah, sounds nice."

"Great," you smiled at him while you got up from the chair, "I'll come back here around five, yeah?"

"Yeah, great, great," Eddie could hardly school the broad smile on his lips into something less euphoric, "See you then!"

"See ya."

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The hours crawled by achingly slow, making Eddie wonder multiple times whether the big grandfather clock was even still working. But then, finally, a quarter to five arrived. He wished he could take you out -was this a date? He still wasn't sure - in an outfit different from his dirty tank top and ripped jeans, but it would have to do. Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, you seemed to have a thing for it?

Anyway, at exactly 4:58, you appeared. You had changed into a flowy sundress, and wow. Eddie marvelled at how the colour brought out the depth in your eyes and complimented the glow of your skin tone perfectly. Simultaneously, he wondered when exactly he had become Shakespeare? He had never noticed these kinds of things before. But then again, it had never been you standing before him.

"Hey Mr. Munson," you greeted Wayne.

"Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing here, shouldn't you be out enjoying your summer?"

"Oh I am, Mr. Munson, promise," you smiled your infectious smile at him, "mind if I borrow your nephew for that tonight?"

Wayne's eyebrows shot up as he gave Eddie a surprised look over your shoulder. All Eddie could do was smile back sheepishly. It's not like he had wanted to keep it a secret per se, he just didn't want to put up with all the teasing.

"All yours," he motioned to Eddie, "And I've told you a million times, sweetheart, just call me Wayne."

He packed the last of his things into the truck while you made your way over to Eddie. Before he left, Wayne gave him a pointed look, the same one as when Eddie looked at the expensive cars a little too long. The same one that applied to everything else in this garage, now including you, be careful, boy.

But Eddie didn't have much time to heed his warning, as you were now standing right before him, and his nervous system once again crashed and burned inside his chest.

"So, which one?" you quipped.

"Hmm? Which what?" Eddie felt like you always had his brain working overtime.

"Which," you swung the door of the cabinet containing all of the car keys open, "one, Eddie?"

"No way."

"Yes way," your smile grew even wider, "I'm driving, of course, but it's you pick tonight."

Eddie thought he might spontaneously propose to you right then. Instead, he went on a rant about all the dream cars that were gathered in this room. "Maybe the Camaro! Or the Miata, the Aston Martin, the Carrera 6…" he was almost bouncing from excitement.

You laughed along with him, the affectionate tone seeping back into your voice, "Your pick!"

"Sweetheart, you're making it real hard on me," he half-whined, somewhat finding back his charm, "Any requests from your side?"

"Nope, all yours."

"You're too kind to me," he drawled, "but I bet you already know which one I'm going to pick, right?"

You grinned, taking a key from the cabinet and tossing it in the air, "Thunderbird, of course."

"Of course," he echoed, now it was his turn to sound fond.

"M'lady," he said as he opened the car door for you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie shouldn't be surprised by your driving skills, logically, you had grown up with all sorts of classic cars around, obviously. But he still was. The genuine smile that took over your face as you shredded through the bends in the country roads made his heart do flips inside his chest. He was, once again, quite aware of how pathetic he was being, sitting there in one of the most beautiful cars he had ever seen, and only looking at your side profile.

When you got to the ice cream shop, it was extremely busy. Heatwave, and all. So you stood in line, and Eddie's nerves seemed to have sufficiently calmed down for him to behave like a semi-normal person again, so he ventured into starting a conversation.

"What flavour are you gonna get?"

You thought it over for a second, "Cherry."

"Cherry?" Eddie craned his neck to see past the cue, "they have that?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "they have all kinds of crazy flavours, way crazier than cherries, I once had strawberry cilantro sorbet here - that was a mistake," you giggle, thinking back.

"Cilantro??" Eddie exclaimed, "Sorry but anything green does not belong in ice cream."

"I agree, definitely, but I have this terrible habit of always picking the strangest flavour and then regretting it." you mused, getting closer to the end of the line. "Hey, they have clementine!"

"Clementine?" Eddie barely even knew what a clementine was, but before he could ask you whether that would even taste remotely good, you had already ordered a scoop of it. When it was Eddie's turn, he ordered cherry.

You walked away from the stall to an area with some benches under the shade of a large tree. Eddie watched as you took the first lick of your bright orange ice cream, and saw in real time as your face went sour.

"I think I did it again," you said after you had swallowed, "this is… this is a crime." The crinkle in your nose made Eddie's lopsided grin even wider.

"Trade?" he offered.

"Would you?" you said, eyes lighting up.

"Hmh," he nodded, "let me taste," you held out the cone and Eddie took a broad lick, trying not to think of any underlying implications and/or flashbacks, and indeed, it was terrible. The ice cream tasted like straight up chemicals, pure food colouring, paint, something like that, and Eddie had to try so hard to school his face into an agreeable expression. "I like it."

"You don't!" you exclaimed, "you can't!"

"I do, though" he sing-songed, plucking your cone out of your hands and replacing it with his.

"Did you order cherry just because you knew I'd like it?" you wondered, eyes slightly wide, slightly thrown.

"Maybe," Eddie mumbled before he took a big bite from his ice cream, "just enjoy the cherry for me, alright?"

"Alright," you said quietly, smiling into your ice cream, "thanks, Eddie."

Even the chlorine-like taste was worth getting to see you enjoy your bright red treat.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

After you had both finished your ice cream (Eddie was so glad it was over), you talked for hours. Afterwards, Eddie couldn't even begin to name the topics, but what remained was a warm, fuzzy feeling, and the fact that you were not only the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but also the funniest. Oh and you were so smart, and kind! And Eddie could keep going, but you were currently throwing the keys to the Ford in his direction.

"Fancy a test drive, Munson?"

"No way! Can I?" Eddie's eyes went comically wide, excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"If you can sit through that ice cream, I think you deserve a ride," you smiled, broad and careless, and Eddie couldn't tell what he was more excited for, driving the car, or more time with you.

When he carefully let himself drop into the driver's seat, he marvelled at the beauty before him, "You're sure?" he had to check.

You just nodded, "Just, never, ever tell my dad. Ever."

Eddie swallowed, alright, no pressure.

But it was so worth it. Eddie was careful enough in handling the car, luckily, but still managed to rack up speeds that would make Hopper frown, even though he reserved them for the deserted backroads you had directed him to.

When he had finally had enough of driving (speeding) around with you giggling beside him and your hair swooshing around your face in the wind, it had already gotten dark. He parked the car at the side of the dirt road in the middle of nowhere you were currently on, somewhere between the corn fields.

"Look at the stars!" he exclaimed, as he marvelled at the sight above him. You tipped your head back as well and smiled.

"If you want to stargaze, we should sit in the back, there's more room there" you suggested. And it was an innocent enough suggestion, sure, but Eddie's voice surely thought otherwise when it almost broke at the word "Sure."

So, you climbed into the backseat together, Eddie's long legs still a bit cramped, but there really was more room, he had to admit. You settled into the backseat next to him, and Eddie was almost surprised by how easy it was to put his arm around you. The way you fit into his side made him question why he was so nervous at all, because it just felt right.

You sat there silently, cuddling up to each other in the faint moon light. It was quiet, serene, almost. Until you shrieked. And jumped. Or, well, as much as you can jump in a car, at least.

"What! What's wrong?!" Eddie exclaimed.

You were frantically swatting around you, "Grasshopper!!!" was the only thing you shrieked, and Eddie would have burst out laughing if you hadn't yelled it so loudly. Still he huffed a little laugh, but wasted no time in helping you catch the thing. Eddie eventually succeeded in capturing it in his hands and throwing it into the fields, bringing peace back to the car.

"It was, it was just really big," you managed, out of breath from the swatting. But once your wide eyes met Eddie's, you both burst out laughing.

"He was pretty big, I'll admit," Eddie eventually managed, "But you were really brave, sweetheart."

You shoved his shoulder, wanting to wipe the teasing grin clean off his face, but you accidentally lost your balance, falling into Eddie's chest. He caught you, and suddenly all giggly, lighthearted giddiness evaporated. Your face was so close to his that he could practically feel the burning of your cheeks reflected on his.

He was almost lying down already, but with one smooth movement from you, he was now flat on his back, with you on top of him. Your hair softly swayed in the wind as you looked down on him, your smile hovering somewhere between playful and sincere, and Eddie thought that he should take a moment to imprint this sight into his brain forever. Your beautiful face, the stars above you, the soft sounds of crickets in the grass around you, and the bone-deep silence beyond that.

He smiled up at you, embarrassingly aware of how sappy he was being inside his head, and cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand. You instinctively leaned into his touch, which made his heart flutter, as he slowly caressed your cheek with his thumb.

After what felt like hours of staring into your eyes, the wind whistling softly through the fields, you draped yourself on top of him and buried your face in his neck, where you - ever so lightly - started planting kisses. Eddie's eyes immediately fluttered closed, not used to the soft, intimate touch, but reveling in it.

Your kisses slowly grew more heated, your teeth scraping over his pulse point had Eddie writhing beneath you, not being able hold back a whiny moan when you followed the soft sting with careful laps of your tongue. His hands found your waist, softly caressing your curves through the fabric. Just the shape of you, the dip in the small of your back made him go crazy. His hands roamed your body, not quite daring to dip below your waist just yet, but his inhibitions were slowly melting away with the way your mouth attacked his skin.

By now, you were planting open-mouthed kisses on his collarbones, and Eddie had never wanted to bottle a feeling as much as the feeling of your body pressed to his and your mouth on his neck.

When your hand slowly slid between your bodies and you reached for his belt buckle, he stopped you, though. Eddie was a gentleman, of course, and he had been daydreaming about this moment all weekend.

You halted your gentle attack when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist, insecurity flashing in your eyes for just a second before Eddie smiled and said "Not this time, sweetheart, it's time to let me take care of you tonight."

Your eyes went a little wider at his words, and then a lot wider as he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, him now hovering above your frame. The gasp you let out was followed by your giggles, which only encouraged Eddie's antics. He smiled wolfishly down at you, at your delicate features framed by the moonlight, the smooth expanse of your neck and collarbones until his view was obstructed by your dress. He had been dreaming of kissing the soft skin behind your ear since he met you, he could finally admit now, and when he did, the feeling was unmatched.

The soft mewls he pulled out of you with each peck and precise lick fueled him on even more, kissing a stripe down your chest to where the swell of your breast disappeared into your dress. He didn't particularly think it would be a good idea to strip you completely naked somewhere in a random field, but god, how he wanted to. Instead, he would have to settle for his next plan.

After making sure he left no part of your neck untouched, unkissed, his large hands curled around your waist again to slide you further up on the seats. He positioned himself in between your legs, smoothing his large hands up and down the expanse of what was already revealed of your thighs. He could hardly think straight anymore already, he vaguely thought, so lost in the sight of you, even while still fully clothed.

He looked up at your face, your eyes were heavy with need, tracking his every move, while your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth. You were a vision.

"'This alright?" Eddie asked, an almost breathless quality to his voice.

"Yeah," you said, softly, a smile playing on your lips.

At your confirmation, Eddie wasted no time in bunching your dress up at your hips, revealing your light blue panties, complete with a little bow. He groaned as soon as he saw the little wet patch that had formed on the soft cotton, growing hungry in a way that was new to him. But he wanted to draw this moment out for as long as you would let him.

He started by kissing each of your knees, working his way down your thighs kiss by kiss. The skin there was just so soft, Eddie thought he could drown in it. The plush flesh felt divine underneath his fingertips as he softly squeezed your hips, getting closer and closer to your centre.

You were growing impatient under him, your body writhing and wiggling in his grip. He smiled against your soft skin, "Needy, are we?" he remarked, as if he had any resolve left in him.

At the simple "Please, Eddie, need you," that left your lips, he was a goner. He capitulated instantly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. His eyes were fixed on your pussy, the way your slick glistened in the pale moonlight seemed to him the single most alluring thing he had ever seen.

He carefully leaned down, as in trance, and swiped his calloused fingertips through your folds, gathering your wetness. You moaned instantly at the relief it brought, making Eddie even more crazed to taste you.

"All this for me, sweetheart?" his voice was thick with anticipation.

"All for you, Eddie," you cooed, arching your back for him.

That was what did him in, what made the very last of his resolve crumble. He dove in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The way you arched into him and moaned his name upon the contact made him dizzy. So he kept going, licking deliberate strokes up your soaked pussy, while you mewled above him. He had a steady grip on your waist, holding you to his mouth as he experimentally wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

The pornographic moan you let out went straight to Eddie's rock hard dick, making him moan against your core. He didn't have a lot of experience, but he sure made up for it in enthusiasm, plus, he liked to think of himself as a quick learner. That's why, when your hands found their way into his hair, he let you softly pull his hair to guide him to all the right spots. He followed your directions carefully, devoting extra attention to your most sensitive spots, all while you ground your hips onto his face.

Eddie had never been this happy in his entire life, he thought. The way you tasted, the way you sounded, the fact that it was his name tumbling from your lips amidst your moans and curse words, he must have gone to heaven.

When he broke away for just a second, your eyes were heavy lidded, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and your lips were bitten raw. Eddie had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Sweetheart, do you want my fingers?"

You smiled coyly, almost bashfully, as you nodded, "Yeah, please?"

And who was he to deny you anything? He gathered some of your wetness first, circling your clit just a couple of times, reveling in the soft "oh" sounds you made with every pass of his fingers, before he carefully pushed his middle finger into you. He studied your face intently, but he only found pleasure there, in the way your eyes screwed shut, your lips slowly parted, and the way you clawed at the expensive leather of the seats.

Eddie couldn't care any less about the seats right now, though, being entirely mesmerized by the way you were taking him.

"More?" he offered.

All you could do in your blissed out state was nod.

So Eddie added a second finger, steadily pumping in and out of you, watching your body react as if it was pure magic. The whiny sounds you started to make tipped Eddie off about how close you were getting. He quickly added his mouth back into the mix, going back to licking and sucking on your clit as his fingers still worked your entrance.

The sounds you were making were divine, and also the backdrop to all of Eddie's future fantasies, he was sure. So he kept going, spurred on by every breathy "Edddie, Eddie, Eddie," that left your lips.

Your hands found his hair again, raking through his curls and softly pulling on them. "Eddie, baby, I'm so close, ah-" your thighs were trembling by now, a sight that made pride bloom in Eddie's chest.

"Yeah? Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna come all over my fingers for me?"

And that was all you needed. With a last high-pitched moan and a dozen more chants of his name, your back arched into him as your orgasm crashed over you. Eddie felt your pussy squeeze his fingers even tighter as he worked you through your orgasm, completely in awe with the stunning sight playing out before him.

When you came down from your high, cheeks glowing and smile cherry red and satisfied, Eddie felt a surge of affection blooming in his chest that had been just as strong as his lust.

"Was that good, sweetheart?" he asked, partly to mirror your earlier question, partly because he still needed some validation.

You leaned forward, raking your fingers through his wild hair once more as you planted a careful kiss on his forehead, "Eddie, that was the best orgasm of my life," you giggled, dropping your head on his shoulder. Soon, you were joined by Eddie's matching giggles, which he just couldn't hold back at your compliment. He was glad your face was buried in his neck again, because his cheeks were burning so hard, he was sure not even the night air would be able to hide his deep cherry blush.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

let me know if you guys still want a part 3! :)) thanks for reading and feedback is very very welcome! <3

Tag list? @pretendthisnameisclever @g3n3zshack @s1mp-4-ga11y (never thought I'd be cool enough to have a tag list so thank you guys <333)

#gosh I need him so bad #Eddie Munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things smut #bitterwrites #bitterreid #my clementine #mechanic!eddie

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luveline · 7 months ago

Note

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight.

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather.

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either.

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop.

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death.

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now.

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often.

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight.

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever.

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?)

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends.

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps.

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you.

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?”

You close the distance. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.”

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?”

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.”

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.”

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.”

You’re pulled into a hug.

“Sorry,” you say.

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.”

“Fine,” you say.

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?”

“I didn’t plan on being out long.”

“No?”

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say.

“I’ll get you some.”

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly.

“Where are your glasses?” you ask.

“I forgot them in the car.”

“Where is the car?”

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.”

“Sci-fi.”

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.”

“How are we gonna find him?”

“He’ll come back eventually.”

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say.

“It’s alright.”

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?”

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly.

“I didn’t think about it.”

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.”

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.”

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.”

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.”

“I worry about you too,” you say.

“About what?” he asks, stricken.

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.”

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.”

“Well I liked you when you were soft.”

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.”

“James?” a voice calls.

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands.

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.”

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him.

Sirius digs his face into your neck.

“Hey?” you ask quietly.

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.”

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?”

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?”

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.”

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.”

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly.

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?”

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.”

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says.

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long.

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.”

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.”

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.”

“You’re not horrible.”

“I’m mean.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn��t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.”

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair.

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.”

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.”

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.”

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry.

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask.

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.”

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.”

You let him hug you. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?”

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say.

“Yeah.”

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards.

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.”

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.”

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.”

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.”

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true.

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.”

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.”

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake.

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t eat much today?”

“No.”

“Have the juice, at least.”

You take the glass.

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing.

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.”

“It’s what I should say.”

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?”

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches.

“Are you eating properly?” he asks.

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.”

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.”

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand.

“This okay?” Sirius asks.

“Yeah.”

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you.

“Are you mad?” you ask.

“Not anymore.”

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it?

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you.

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug.

“What kind did you want to hear?”

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach.

“I can’t remember anything right.”

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks.

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends.

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.”

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?”

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.”

He nods.

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape.

“Please don’t do that again,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.”

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.”

“Me neither,” Remus croaks.

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over.

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks.

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.”

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly.

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…”

“Love you?” Sirius asks.

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.”

“Not selfish.”

“It was, though.”

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.”

“Not really.”

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble.

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing.

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.”

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this.

“I love you, too.”

He makes another face. Good enough, it says.

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper.

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.”

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles.

You hug him quickly before you leave.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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maewphoria · 1 month ago

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⌗⠀양정원⠀⠀CAT⠀DISTRIBUTION⠀SYSTEM⠀꒰⠀PT.6⠀꒱

⠀

SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?

pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader. featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, aespa winter. word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀14.352k genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.) warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, cat gets really sick, mentions of cat sickness, mentions of surgery, mentions of depression, friends panicking and being dramatic, kissing and skinship (soon), reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything. mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, part six is finally up! i hope you enjoy it—we’re getting close to the end of tcds! i also hope this fic is a little helpful for anyone planning to adopt a cat, especially a female one. i did my best to research this illness/disease, and i really hope it helps raise some awareness. thank you so much! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

#⠀OO7⠀:⠀IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH.

after the confrontation on the balcony, as the glass door closed behind you, you stepped into the stillness of your room—quiet, dim, and far too heavy for comfort. you moved on autopilot, your feet taking you to the bed where you sat slowly, almost as if sinking into the weight of your own thoughts.

you reached for your phone, cradling it in your hands as you stared at the screen. your thumb hovered over your contacts. the idea flickered in your mind—maybe you could call your friends. maybe you could ask to crash at their place. not because you didn’t want to be alone, but because being alone tonight felt a little too much like punishment.

but then guilt tiptoed in, soft and unwelcome. you remembered every time they had helped you—helping you carry your own burdens like they were weightless, never once complaining. they had been nothing but kind, offering their comfort even when you hadn’t asked for it.

and suddenly, the thought of bothering them again felt… unfair.

“they have their own lives. their own worries. you can’t keep showing up and burdening them every time something goes wrong.”

so, with a sigh, you locked your screen and placed your phone on the bedside table. you told yourself you'd be strong. just for tonight. you could handle it. you didn’t need to offload every heartache the second it showed up at your door.

but then, as if the universe had been eavesdropping, your phone began to ring.

you jumped slightly, startled by the sudden noise in the silence. your heart skipped a beat—and you hated that the first name that came to mind was jungwon.

for a brief, reckless second, you hoped it was him. calling to apologize. calling to say he didn’t mean it.

and then, in the same breath, another part of you hoped it was him just so you could decline the call and let him sit in it.

but when you looked at the screen, it wasn’t him.

it was your friends.

you let out a soft breath—half disappointment, half relief—but mostly warmth. because as much as part of you wanted it to be jungwon, a bigger part of you was grateful it wasn’t. you weren’t sure how you’d even speak to him after what he said.

you answered the call, trying to sound normal.but before you could even greet them, yunjin’s voice rushed through the speaker, laced with concern, “are you okay?”

it wasn’t even a question, not really. more like an instinct. and it caught you off guard.

you smiled faintly, that fragile kind of smile people make when they’re holding back everything. “yeah, i’m fine,” you replied.

you weren’t. and they knew it for some reason. they can feel it.

there was a short pause. and then, as if she’d read your mind through the phone, yunjin asked, “do you wanna have a sleepover at our place tonight?”

you blinked. bestie telepathy. it had to be. that uncanny ability they had to know when something was wrong—even when you tried your best to pretend otherwise.

a laugh escaped you. soft and surprised.you nodded, even though they couldn’t see you. “yeah,” you said quietly, “i’ll pack my things and be there in a bit.”

you ended the call with a soft sigh, already feeling lighter knowing that someone—no, someones—were waiting for you with open arms. with the faintest hint of urgency, you stood and began to pack a small overnight bag, not really thinking too hard about what to bring. just the essentials. maybe a little comfort.

and for some reason, you threw on a cap and pulled a mask over your face. maybe it was to hide, maybe it was to feel invisible—or maybe it was just easier not to be seen. you slipped into an oversized shirt and a pair of loose, faded jorts, comfortable, and safely unremarkable.

you stepped out of your apartment and made your way to the elevator. your mind was a little numb as you rode the elevator down to the lobby, like it hadn’t caught up to your body yet. and then the elevator doors opened with a soft ding.

voices.

chatter and familiar tones—and then you looked up.

all six of jungwon’s friends were standing there, sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung, they were talking animatedly, unaware of your presence as you stepped out quietly, head bowed as to not be seen by them as they enter the elevator.

you kept your gaze low, focused on the lobby tiles, pretending to check something on your phone, hoping they wouldn’t notice you.but then—just before the elevator doors began to slide shut—you heard sunoo’s voice drift out.

“you know how jungwon can be… he takes everything too seriously. if something goes wrong, he’ll find a way to blame himself—even when it’s not his fault. he’s always been like that, ever since his parents—”

click.

the elevator swallowed the rest of the sentence, the soft whoosh of the doors cutting off the words like a curtain falling.

you stood frozen in place, staring at the closed doors as if they might reopen and finish the sentence for you. you weren’t trying to eavesdrop—well, maybe you were—but you hadn’t expected to catch something so personal.

a knot twisted in your chest. you didn’t know the full story, and now you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. not like this. not overheard in a lobby with your heart still tender from the weight of what happened earlier.

you shook your head slightly, as if to clear it, then pulled out your phone and called for an uber. no more lingering. you had somewhere warmer to be.

twenty minutes later, you stood in front of your friends’ dorm, and as soon as the door opened, a wave of warmth rushed over you—not just from the actual temperature, but from the way their faces lit up.

“you’re here!” yunjin beamed, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of vanilla lotion and shampoo.

“about time,” chaewon teased, nudging you playfully before tugging you further inside.

arms wrapped around you, voices overlapped in a chorus of “are you okay?” and “you hungry?” and “we saved the comfiest blanket for you,” and you couldn’t help but smile through the sudden tenderness building in your throat.

kazuha appeared from the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other. “go change into pajamas, we’ll set everything up.”

you nodded gratefully and slipped into yunjin’s room, trading your oversized shirt and jorts for soft cotton pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks that didn’t match—but felt like home anyway.

when you walked back out, the living room had transformed. the couch was already claimed by a pile of blankets and pillows, a nest of comfort. the television was on, netflix already open, and your friends were scrolling through a seemingly endless sea of thumbnails.

“we’re debating between trashy romance or murder documentary,” chaewon said, holding up the remote.you smiled—genuinely, this time—and settled in beside them, letting yourself exhale.

for the first time that day, you weren’t thinking about jungwon.

you were just here.

you were safe.

meanwhile, just a wall away from your apartment—jungwon lay stretched across his couch, motionless, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. his gaze was fixed on the ceiling above, as if it might hold the answers he didn’t have the strength to ask for. nestled on top of him, yami, purred softly, her tiny chest rising in tandem with his. she was the only thing grounding him at the moment.

his friends sat scattered around the living room, their usual energy dulled into quiet concern. it wasn’t often that jungwon looked this defeated. yes, jungwon has been feeling down lately but not like this and it made the air feel heavier than it should.

sunoo, who had been chewing on the inside of his cheek for the past five minutes, finally couldn’t take the silence anymore. he shifted in his seat, then threw a look toward jay and heeseung—an expression that practically screamed, ‘say something, you idiots. tell him he got it all wrong at the library.’

heeseung caught the glance and sighed, straightening up from his spot. he cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “uh, jungwon… about what happened earlier.” he began slowly, cautiously, like someone trying not to set off an emotional landmine. “i had no idea there was a plan, alright? because someone—” he paused, turning to shoot a pointed look at jay, who was already shrinking under the weight of his own guilt, “—forgot to tell me.”

jay gave a sheepish little wave, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like an apology.

heeseung went on, “i swear, i only see y/n as, like… a little sister. and maybe our club’s future secretary if she ever stops pretending she’s not qualified. that’s all. i promise.”

they all waited for jungwon’s response, half-expecting an explosion, or at least a grumble. instead, he just let out a breath and murmured, “it’s all good, man. that’s not even the problem anymore.”

the room paused—time itself almost felt like it held its breath. even yami blinked slowly.

jay leaned forward, his voice suddenly full of that naive, eager hope only jay could pull off. “wait, but we could totally fix this, right? like, plan something new again? dramatic surprise? maybe balloons? a flash mob?” he was clearly trying to lighten the mood, maybe even pull a smile from jungwon.

but jungwon just sat up, gently lifting yami off his chest and setting her down beside him. he looked around at all six of his friends, then shook his head.

“unless any of you know how to go back in time and tell past me to shut up, then no. there’s no fixing this.”

they all blinked.

“won,” riki finally spoke, voice soft but steady, “what… what do you mean?”

jungwon exhaled again—long, slow, and bone-deep. then he began to recount everything that happened on the balcony. every word, every silence, every painful truth that had slipped past his lips too quickly. how your eyes had dimmed, not with anger, but something worse—disappointment. and how the door had closed behind you like a final page turning.

by the time he finished, the room was completely still. and then, like a wave breaking, a collective groan escaped from the group.

sunghoon threw his head back on the couch dramatically. “dude, why did you say that?”

“it just came out,” jungwon muttered, his voice small, almost boyish. “i didn’t mean any of it. but she was being honest and i—i couldn’t. i didn’t know how.”

his friends didn’t say much. they didn’t need to. they were disappointed, yes—but not at him. not really. they knew this was coming.

jungwon had been bottling up everything for so long—feelings he didn’t understand, guilt he couldn’t name, a fear of being vulnerable that had grown roots in the quiet corners of his mind. they had all seen it brewing like a storm. they just hadn’t expected him to break right there, right in front of you.

and the worst part? he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

once both friend groups were updated on what had gone down between you and jungwon, an unspoken tension settled over campus like a thin layer of frost. no one addressed it directly, but it was there—lingering in the air, cold and undeniable.

even brief glimpses in the corridor turned into emotionally charged encounters. whenever you or your friends crossed paths with jungwon’s group, the mood would shift immediately. smiles disappeared, footsteps quickened, and side-eyes became the norm.

your friends were the type to protect their own with quiet loyalty and sharp glares. the mere sight of jungwon was enough to make yunjin’s jaw tighten, and kazuha’s eyebrows would pull together in silent disapproval. they didn’t need to speak for you to know—they were mad on your behalf.

but it wasn’t just awkward glances and distant stares.

sunoo and riki were struggling the most.

they had close ties with chaewon and kazuha through their shared courses—bonds that had once been easy, playful, and filled with casual banter. now? those friendships were strained at the seams, caught in the crossfire of someone else’s mistake.

sunoo, who once was part of the same friend group as chaewon in their course, now tiptoed around her presence. sometimes, he’d catch himself lingering a little too long near her desk, only to retreat the moment she turned her head—like a guilty puppy caught chewing on something he shouldn’t.

riki wasn’t much better. he used to be kazuha’s go-to dance partner, their synchronicity well-known among their classmates. but now, he’d sit two seats away during practice, pretending the distance didn’t feel strange. he missed the shared laughs, the impromptu freestyle battles—but pride and guilt tangled around his feet like invisible chains.

jungwon, on the other hand, had always maintained a polite distance from yunjin, even though they shared the same course. but lately, he could feel her eyes burning holes into the back of his head during lectures. her anger was subtle, controlled, but sharp enough to cut. and he didn’t resent her for it—not even a little. if anything, he agreed with her. he was the one who screwed up. he was the reason for all of this.

almost two months had passed since that night on the balcony. two months, and the wound was still raw.

then, one afternoon, the tension cracked—just a little.

sunoo had gathered enough courage to approach chaewon after class. he looked nervous, fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag as he trailed behind her down the hallway.

“hey, chaewon…” he called softly, tentative, like her name might shatter if he said it too loud.she didn’t slow down, didn’t look back.

“look, i—i just wanted to say sorry about jungwon, okay? not for him. i mean—i know i can’t speak for him but—i just feel bad about everything.”

chaewon finally stopped.

she didn’t turn around. didn’t soften. she simply adjusted the strap on her shoulder, her voice calm but firm.

“if you’re here just to apologize for your friend’s behavior,” she said, “then don’t bother.”

sunoo froze. he felt his chest tighten, like her words had hit him square in the sternum.

she glanced over her shoulder at last, her expression unreadable. “he should be the one apologizing to our friend. not you. and he can’t keep hiding forever.”

and with that, she walked off, her head held high. not a single backward glance.

sunoo stood there for a while, staring down at the floor, the weight of her words pressing into him like gravity.

because deep down… he knew she was absolutely right.

while your friends stayed busy holding grudges on your behalf—wearing their loyalty like armor—you simply kept living.

you called your parents often, keeping them updated on the ordinary parts of your life: school, projects, the occasional grocery mishap. but you never mentioned jungwon. you tucked that chapter of your heart away, sealed under the phrase: it’s not important anymore.

you went out more. dinners with friends, lazy movie nights in their dorm, laughter that bubbled louder when the drinks came out. life, though tender and bruised, went on.

still, not everything had changed.

yami, jungwon’s fluffball of a calico cat, never stopped visiting you. if anything, she seemed to come more often—as if she sensed something fractured and chose to continue visiting you anyway. and you welcomed her with open arms every time.

eventually, you even installed a little cat door beside your balcony slider, just for her. a tiny passage so she can go in and out anytime. you stocked up on food and water dispensers, bought her a cushy bed that looked way too expensive for a cat, and threw in a few plush toys shaped like fish for good measure.

she was family now.

her owner, however, remained firmly uninvited.

but then one day, the rhythm of your soft domestic peace broke.

yami padded in as usual, her tail flicking lazily behind her. she made herself at home in her bed by the window, curling into a delicate swirl of fur and quiet purrs. you were in the kitchen, humming to yourself, stirring something warm on the stove, before settling onto one of your kitchen stools.

you turned slightly, just to check on her—as you always did. and she was there, small and still, nestled in her bed you bought for her.

you smiled. she looked impossibly precious.

“yami,” you called softly, expecting her usual chirp in return.

but nothing.

your smile faltered. yami was normally reactive, especially to your voice—chatty and bright-eyed, with a meow for everything. but today… silence.

your chest tightened. you slid off the stool and walked over, kneeling beside her bed, gently brushing your fingers over her fur. “hey, baby… you okay?”

she blinked slowly. her meow came, but it was weak—thready and too soft. she pushed herself up to lick your hand, and then, without warning, she began to vomit.

your heart jumped straight into your throat.

“oh my god,” you whispered, panic clawing at the edges of your thoughts as you cradled her trembling frame. her body slumped almost immediately after, her breath shallow, her paws twitching faintly.

you didn’t think. you moved.

grabbing your small blanket from your couch, you carefully wrapped her fragile body in it, whispering reassurances you didn’t even register as you said them.

then you ran—barefoot and breathless—out of your apartment, down the familiar hallway, across the invisible line you’d drawn between yourself and the one person you swore you wouldn’t go back to.

your fist pounded against jungwon’s door, rapid and unrelenting.

it only took seconds before you heard movement behind it, hurried footsteps on tile. the door flung open, and there he was—hair tousled, eyes wide, utterly unprepared for the sight of you.

his name caught in your throat, tangled in panic and desperation.

his gaze dropped to the bundle in your arms, and his entire expression changed—fear replacing surprise.

“y/n?” he said, voice uneven, but you couldn’t speak yet. your arms shifted to reveal yami, nestled and trembling, her meows barely audible.

tears finally spilled, hot and uninvited, as you choked out the only words that mattered:

“please… she’s not okay.”

and just like that, the silence between you shattered. not with apologies. not with explanations.

but with the shared heartbeat of two people who loved the same little creature—enough to forget the walls they’d built around themselves.

jungwon didn’t hesitate.

the moment he saw you—your tear-filled eyes, your trembling hands clutching yami wrapped in that soft blanket—he turned on his heel and sprinted back inside his apartment. the door remained flung open behind him as he grabbed the first hoodie he could reach, tossing it over his shoulders with frantic hands before hurrying back out and pulling the door shut.

“let’s go to the vet,” he said, voice tense but calm, like he was clinging to control for your sake. his eyes were locked on yami, and though his chest rose and fell quickly, he was doing everything not to spiral.

you nodded mutely, your heart thundering so loudly it drowned out your own thoughts.

he reached for yami, and you let her go, your hands lingering for a second longer on the blanket. jungwon cradled her gently, then took off toward the elevator, glancing back only once to make sure you were right behind him.

your fingers were trembling as you pulled out your phone and booked an uber, breath shaky as you tried to think straight.

the ride to the veterinary hospital was a blur—city lights rushing past the windows, your reflection staring back at you, pale and worried. jungwon was silent beside you, holding yami as if she might shatter at the slightest movement.

once you arrived, the moment you stepped through the clinic doors, both of you spoke at once.

your voices overlapped in pure chaos—words rushing out, half sentences, pleads for help, concern thick in every syllable. the poor receptionist blinked at you like you were speaking in tongues, eyebrows raised in mild alarm. she held up her hand, the universal sign for calm down, and calmly said, “you need to slow down. i can’t understand either of you if you both panic.”

you both fell silent, gulping back anxiety as she picked up the phone to call a doctor. everything moved fast after that—hands reaching, nurses in scrubs, yami whisked away through a swinging door before you could even whisper a goodbye.

you and jungwon collapsed onto the stiff plastic chairs, side by side but not speaking. there was nothing left to say. your thoughts were consumed by one small, fragile thing—would she be okay?

minutes passed like hours.

then a nurse appeared, clipboard in hand, and called out jungwon’s name. he shot to his feet before his name fully left her lips, and you followed closely behind, unsure if your legs would carry you all the way.

he reached the door to the consultation room but paused—finally turning to you, eyes softer now.

“come with me,” he said, gently. “she’s basically your cat, too.”

you blinked, surprised by the way your chest tightened at that. but you followed, no hesitation.

inside, the room was stark white, the only warmth coming from the woman sitting across from you—mid-thirties, calm-eyed, with a soft but serious voice that felt like both a warning and a balm.she didn’t waste time.

“your cat is currently suffering from pyometra,” she said, looking between you and jungwon. her tone was matter-of-fact, but not unkind. “it’s a serious, life-threatening infection of the uterus. it happens in unspayed female cats, especially as they get older. if not treated quickly, it can become very dangerous.”

jungwon’s head dropped at her words, his guilt practically radiating from him. his grip tightened on the fabric of his hoodie as he stared at the floor.

you looked at him—his eyes glassy, hands slightly trembling—and reached out, gently slipping your fingers into his. your touch was soft, deliberate. this time, it was your turn to be the calm one.

the room was quiet except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. the doctor’s expression remained composed, but kind.

“what causes it to happen?” you asked, voice steady though your chest felt tight.

the veterinarian nodded, welcoming the question. “pyometra typically occurs when a female cat goes into heat repeatedly without mating or pregnancy,” she began. “each cycle increases the production of progesterone, which thickens the lining of the uterus. over time, that lining can form cysts. and once that happens, it becomes the perfect environment for bacterial growth.”

both you and jungwon listened intently, absorbing every word. he gripped your hand tighter with each sentence, as if your shared touch was the only thing anchoring him in the moment.

“there are two kinds of pyometra,” she continued. “the first is open pyometra, which presents with noticeable symptoms—pus or discharge leaking from the vulva. it’s alarming, but easier to catch. the second is closed pyometra—far more dangerous. there’s no visible discharge. all the infection is trapped inside the body, which can lead to sepsis or organ failure if untreated.”

she paused for a breath, her gaze turning somber.

“because of yami’s long fur, her symptoms were hidden. it’s a textbook case of closed pyometra.”

jungwon let out a low sigh, barely audible, but you felt it through the way his shoulders dropped and his fingers pressed harder into yours. you instinctively started stroking the back of his hand, slow and comforting, trying to ease the panic rising in him.

“the only way to save her life is immediate surgery,” the vet added, her voice gentle but unflinchingly honest. “we don’t have the luxury of time. i need your permission to proceed.”

she glanced between you both, empathy written across her features.

“i want to be transparent—there are risks,” she said. “especially considering she’s already weak. but doing nothing would be far more dangerous.”

for a moment, the silence was so thick it nearly suffocated you.

then the veterinarian posed her final question, calm but expectant. “do i have your permission to perform emergency surgery on yami?”

you turned your head toward jungwon. his eyes met yours—feeling guilty, desperate, and shimmering with hope. there was no hesitation between you. you both looked at the vet at the same time, hearts aligned.

“please save her,” you said in unison, voices soft but resolute.

the vet smiled gently, touched by your unity. “thank you for trusting us,” she said with a nod. “we’ll take good care of her. i’ll have you sign the consent form with my secretary. and we’ll update you throughout the surgery.”

she stood and extended her hand. you both rose and shook it, one after the other, feeling like you were handing over a piece of your hearts along with it.

then she exited the room, leaving you and jungwon standing side by side, hands still clasped—unspoken worry and fragile hope binding you together.

you both sat back down, the silence settling once more between you like a familiar fog. it wasn't until the soft creak of the office door opening that either of you realized—your hands were still intertwined.

the secretary stepped inside, making both of you release each other's hands, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor. she offered a warm smile, the kind that held a trace of amusement. she had clearly noticed the subtle way your fingers immediately slipped apart, almost guiltily, as if touch itself was forbidden.

“good evening,” she greeted, her tone professional yet light. “i’m doctor kim’s secretary. i have the consent form here—one of you will need to sign.”

she placed the paper gently on the table, her eyes flickering between the two of you. there was a slight quirk at the corner of her lips, almost playful.

“so,” she asked, “who’s signing? the boyfriend or the girlfriend?”

that one question seemed to short-circuit both of your systems.

your faces flushed almost simultaneously, heat blooming from your cheeks to your ears. you shook your head quickly and pointed toward jungwon, who at the exact same time shook his own head and pointed to himself.

“i’m the owner,” jungwon said quickly, trying to steady his voice, “but she helps a lot with taking care of my cat.”

you nodded, eyes lowering slightly.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you added in a murmur, your tone a whisper of disappointment laced with something unspoken. regret, perhaps.

the secretary smiled knowingly but didn’t press further. she slid the form gently toward jungwon, who signed it without hesitation, murmuring a quiet “thank you” before she exited the room and left the two of you alone once again.

after a few more minutes of staying inside doctor kim's office, you and jungwon finally decided to step out of the office together. the air in the hallway felt colder now, like the gravity of the situation had truly settled into your bones.

without speaking, the two of you moved through the softly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing faintly against the linoleum floor. you walked side by side, close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed, but not quite.

you found a small row of chairs positioned just outside the emergency room—sterile, uncomfortable things that looked like they had weathered years of worried visitors. but you didn’t care.

you both sat but this time, you didn’t sit as closely. a single empty chair separated you—a quiet, awkward little space that neither of you had the courage to cross. you sat in silence, both of your minds full of worry for yami, who was now being prepped for emergency surgery. all you could do was wait, and hope.

jungwon’s eyes shifted subtly in your direction. he took in the curve of your shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of your breath… and then his eyes dropped to your bare feet.

he blinked, surprised.

without a word, he stood up and approached the receptionist’s desk with gentle urgency, asking quietly if they had spare slippers. she pointed him toward a cabinet near the hallway. he nodded, thanked her, and returned with a small pair in hand.

you looked up, confused. and then you stilled.

he was kneeling in front of you.

“jungwon—”

but he didn’t let you finish. he gently took your foot into his hand, his touch tender and reverent. he dabbed at your skin with a tissue, wiping away the dust and dirt that had clung on your feet, more worried about yami than your own feet. you watched him—watched the quiet concentration on his face, the soft furrow of his brow as though this small act held the weight of the world.

he slipped the slippers onto your feet carefully, like it was second nature.

you could’ve stopped him. you probably should’ve. but being this close to him again made your heart ache in ways you didn’t expect. it felt right—dangerously right.

like he was meant to be there. kneeling before you, caring for you. as if his hands were carved to fit yours, his presence molded to exist beside yours.even earlier, when you held hands in the doctor’s office—it had felt so effortless, so natural. like your fingers were never meant to let go.

and for a moment, in the middle of a cold veterinary hospital with antiseptic in the air and worry in your chest, you just wanted time to stop for the both of you.

“thank you,” you whispered, voice fragile as glass, barely making it past your lips.

jungwon looked up, startled, as if your words had pulled him from some invisible fog. for a second, he forgot how to breathe. you were so close—closer than you’d been in months—and in the gentle lighting of the waiting room, with the worry still clinging to your lashes and your voice soft from the weight of fear, you looked devastatingly beautiful. it hit him all at once, like a memory he hadn’t been ready to remember: how much he missed you.

“you’re welcome,” he murmured, voice low, almost careful. he pulled himself back, settling into his chair again, a single chair between the two of you—as if that distance might protect the both of you from the things you still hadn’t said.

but the silence didn’t last long.

you looked down at your hands and suddenly, without warning, the dam broke. tears welled up and spilled over, soft and trembling, like a storm finally surrendering to the sky. it caught you off guard—how your panic, fear, and helplessness all swelled at once and poured out like a flood.

jungwon froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide with concern. and then instinct took over.

he scooted closer, occupying the only space that was keeping both of you apart. there was hesitation in his fingertips as he tried to decide whether to reach for your hand, your back—anywhere that might tell you you weren’t alone. but in the end, he simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently into his chest.

“i was so scared,” you breathed against the fabric of his hoodie, your voice trembling with each word. “i thought… i thought she might actually die. i thought it was my fault…”

your fingers clenched the soft cotton of his hoodie, and his arms tightened around you in return. he rested his chin lightly against the top of your head, his other hand smoothing through your hair with soft, comforting strokes.

“no,” he said quietly, firmly. “it’s not your fault. you did everything right. you saved her. if anything, it's my fault for not noticing.”

you shook your head against him, tears still falling. “i didn’t mean to sound like i'm blaming you… i wasn’t trying to say it like that,” you whispered through shaky sobs.

that surprised him more than anything. he pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face, cupping your cheeks delicately with both hands. his thumbs gently wiped away the trails of your tears, and his brows furrowed with something achingly tender.

“hey, no, no. i know,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “i didn’t take it that way. i promise. i just… i feel responsible, too. since i'm her owner.”

he leaned forward and wrapped you in his arms again, holding you tighter this time. no hesitation. no distance. just two hearts, bruised but still beating, finally leaning on each other after carrying too much for too long.

for a while, neither of you spoke. there was only the sound of soft breathing, the occasional sniffle, and the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above you. outside the room, the world continued on—but in that moment, it felt like everything had paused to give you both space to feel, to heal, and to simply be.

as the storm of panic finally began to subside, the two of you remained entwined in silence, neither rushing to break the fragile calm that had settled between your bodies. jungwon still had one arm gently wrapped around your shoulder, his free hand absentmindedly playing with your fingers—tracing the lines on your palm like he was trying to memorize them. his cheek rested against the crown of your head, as if anchoring himself to you, steadying the both of you in this unfamiliar stillness.

you, in turn, had your head nestled into the curve of his shoulder, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his hoodie. the scent of him was oddly comforting. you toyed with his hand, letting your fingertips dance over his knuckles, occasionally brushing against his wrist.

neither of you spoke, content in the silence, until jungwon’s voice broke through—soft and careful, like he was afraid even his words might cause the moment to vanish.

“are you okay now?” he asked quietly.

you didn’t answer with words—just shook your head, slowly, before inching closer into his warmth. jungwon exhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes for a moment, biting down gently on his lower lip in an attempt to stop the smile that tugged at his mouth. he didn’t move. he just let you curl into him, closer than ever.

you tilted your head, voice muffled slightly by his shoulder. “how long do you think the surgery will last?”

he glanced at the sterile wall clock before replying. “maybe an hour? give or take?”

you fumbled for your phone and lit up the screen. “we’ve only been here for, like, forty… fifty minutes tops,” you murmured before locking the screen again and slipping it back into your pocket. “feels like forever.”

jungwon chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “hospital time doesn’t follow normal rules. every minute here is at least ten emotionally.”

he looked down at you then, his gaze soft, his voice laced with gentle concern. “are you hungry?”

you met his eyes, and suddenly the space between you two felt smaller than before. you both noticed, both blushed, but neither moved away.

“i’m okay. not really hungry,” you murmured. “let’s wait until we know yami’s surgery went well. i wouldn’t be able to eat anyway.”

you returned to your position against his shoulder, and he, without thinking, rested his cheek once again on top of your head, his fingers now absentmindedly drawing slow circles on your arm.

“y/n,” he began, a tentative breath in his voice, “i know this might be a really bad time but—”

“can we just… stay like this a little longer?” you interrupted, so softly it almost dissolved into the silence.

your voice trembled just slightly—not enough for him to call it out, but enough for him to notice. you weren’t ready. not yet. not for that conversation. not for the words you were scared he might say.

because part of you feared the apology that might come, feared the reopening of a wound just barely scabbing over. but another part of you—small and stubborn—still wanted to hear it, to believe him, to accept the possibility that maybe things could still mend.

so you stayed in his arms, pretending you were only waiting for news about a cat, when in truth, you were waiting for courage.

after several more minutes wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, the sterile, metallic sound of a door swinging open cut through the quiet. doctor kim emerged from the surgery room, peeling off her gloves and removing her mask, and the sound startled both of you back into reality.

instinctively, you pulled away from one another—hands slipping apart as you both stood up in unison. without needing to speak, you both hurried toward her.

“doctor kim?” jungwon’s voice came out softer than he probably intended, laced with a kind of quiet desperation.

she looked up, met both your eyes, and offered a reassuring smile—the kind that lifted the weight off your chest before she even said anything.

“the surgery went well,” she said gently, her voice calm and clear. “she’s stable, but we’ll need to keep her here for observation over the next few days. you’ll be able to see her shortly, just give us a few minutes to settle her in.”

a collective breath you didn’t realize you were holding left your lungs. jungwon, too, visibly relaxed, his shoulders finally lowering from where they’d been tensed up to his ears.

“thank you—really, thank you so much,” you both said, voices overlapping, gratitude spilling out from the both of you like it couldn’t be contained.

as doctor kim walked away, a grin bloomed across jungwon’s face, mirrored perfectly by your own. your hearts were light again, like someone had flipped the world right-side up.

without thinking, you raised both hands, fingers spread in celebration. “high five?” you grinned.

jungwon mirrored you, and the moment your palms met with a satisfying slap, he let out a breathless laugh—and then, very dramatically, slumped forward against you, nearly falling into your arms.

you let out a startled chuckle as you caught him. “whoa! hey—are you okay?”

he nodded, still laughing as he clung to you like he hadn’t realized just how much tension had been holding him up. “i’m fine. just… adrenaline crash, i think.”

he buried his face into your shoulder, still chuckling softly.

you tilted your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. “did you just get weak in the knees? seriously?”

his voice came muffled through your hoodie. “excuse me, but my daughter was just in surgery.”

you burst out laughing at that, the weight of the last hour finally melting into something warm and light and full of life. “your daughter?”

he lifted his head just enough to give you a mock-offended look. “yes. my fluffy, dramatic, calico daughter.” he said, which only made you laugh harder.

and there you stayed—arms wrapped around each other, hearts still racing, breaths still syncing. at some point, it stopped being about holding him up and became something else entirely. something unspoken, something neither of you wanted to end.

you weren’t just holding each other anymore. you were holding peace, holding relief, holding the quiet joy that came after surviving something scary—together.

the silence between you had settled into something almost comfortable—soft, fragile, like a delicate thread neither of you wanted to break. but then, jungwon’s voice came, barely more than a breath against the air between you.

“i want to be friends again,” he whispered.

your fingers, resting lightly on the fabric of his hoodie, instinctively gripped a little tighter. the words caught you off guard—not because they were unexpected, but because of how quietly and vulnerably he’d said them.

you stayed still, giving him space to speak, to unravel the rest of what was clearly weighing on him.

“i know i probably don’t deserve a place in your life anymore,” he continued, his voice tinged with guilt, “not after the things i said. but i…”

he paused, and you tilted your head, curiosity pulling at your thoughts.

“you what?” you asked, your voice soft, patient, but laced with something inquisitive—like you were leaning into the edge of a door that had been closed for too long.

“i missed you.”

three simple words. soft, sincere, and completely disarming. they slipped past his lips with a kind of quiet desperation, and the moment they reached you, you felt your cheeks burn in response, a warm blush rising like dawn beneath your skin.

he glanced at you, and his next words came almost as a plea. “i missed you… and i’m really sorry for what i did. i mean it. i won’t do it again. i promise. please forgive me y/n.”

you let out a small sigh—not one of frustration, but of release. your hand gently moved across his back in slow, soothing circles as you finally spoke.

“i missed you too,” you said softly, and this time, it was his turn to be surprised. you felt the tension in his shoulders shift as your words sunk in, followed almost immediately by the warmth of his arms tightening around you.

he clung to you a little closer, his heart probably pounding just like yours.

“you won’t avoid me again?” you asked, your tone gentle but teasing, eyes glancing at him, his chin resting against your shoulder.

he nodded instantly, eager. “never again.”

“and you won’t say any more mean things to me?”

another quick nod. “i won’t. promise.”

you let the silence stretch just a bit longer before smiling. “okay,” you whispered. “i forgive you. we can be friends again.”

you felt him melt against you, his voice muffled as he murmured a series of grateful little thank-you’s and i'm-sorry’s against your shoulder, like he was afraid you’d take it back if he let go.

a grin tugged at your lips. “so… are you buying me dinner later?”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a chuckle escaping him—relieved, amused, and affectionate all at once. “of course. anything you want.”

you raised a brow. “anything?”

“well… maybe not anything today,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping onto his face. “i mean, i still have to survive paying for yami’s hospital bills. emotional damage and financial ruin—i’m really hitting the jackpot today.”

he let out a soft laugh, embarrassed but trying to play it cool, his eyes flickering toward yours with a quiet hope that you’d find it a little funny too.

you laughed, the sound light and real. and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like you were tiptoeing around what had been broken. instead, it felt like maybe, just maybe, something was starting to mend.

“okay, fine. we’ll save the luxurious cravings for another time,” you said, your voice soft with a playful hum. he smiled gently, still holding you in a loose embrace, tilting his head as if waiting patiently for you to announce your dinner wish like your lives depended on it.

“i’m kinda craving jjapaghetti and jjapaguri,” you admitted, eyes narrowing slightly as you imagined the taste. he nodded slowly, like a fellow soldier understanding your hunger on a spiritual level.

“now that you mention it… i kinda miss jjapaghetti and jjapaguri too,” he replied thoughtfully. “which one should i buy? or should i buy both?”

you blinked, suddenly shifting into serious mode, like you were about to defend your thesis on instant noodles. “okay, so—jjapaghetti is really good, but it does have this subtle bitterness at the end. jjapaguri, on the other hand, skips the bitterness altogether, but it’s a bit pricier.”

he listened as if the fate of his dinner truly depended on your wisdom.

“so should we just buy jjapaghetti instead?” he asked, genuinely weighing his options.

“yep. it’s less expensive,” you said with a cheeky grin, “and let’s be honest—you’re already broke.”

he pulled back from the hug slightly, eyebrows raised, placing a hand over his heart like you just wounded him. “hey, i’m not broke.”

“not yet,” you quipped, grinning wider.

he shook his head, laughing quietly, the kind of laughter that spills out when you’re genuinely happy and maybe a little smitten. the banter wrapped around the two of you like a bubble, light and warm, until a quiet voice gently popped it.

“um… i hope i’m not interrupting,” said a familiar tone. both of you turned just in time to see doctor kim’s secretary standing nearby, clearly trying her best not to look like she’d walked in on something intimate for the second time.

you both quickly pulled away from each other, faces heating up as she continued, “but you can now visit yami.”

“thank you,” you both blurted in unison, hurriedly bowing your heads in gratitude.and without another word, the two of you practically bolted—racing down the corridor, not just to see yami, but also to escape the undeniable embarrassment of being caught once again, now mid-hug… by the same person.

you both heard it—the soft, unmistakable giggle of the secretary trailing behind you like a teasing breeze. it was subtle, but enough to turn both your cheeks redder. your reactions had clearly entertained her, and the realization only made your embarrassment bloom deeper.

but there wasn’t time to dwell on that. the moment you reached the room where yami was being kept, your footsteps slowed and your voices hushed into reverence. you both instinctively moved to her side, your eyes falling on her small, unconscious figure lying peacefully on the hospital bed.

and just like that, the laughter from moments ago vanished.

neither of you dared to touch her. it wasn’t fear exactly—more a deep and aching respect. she had just survived surgery, her tiny body still recovering. one wrong move felt like it could shatter the fragile peace of her sleep. so instead, you both stood there in silence, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as if it were the most sacred thing in the world.

jungwon was the first to speak, his voice no louder than a whisper. he leaned in slightly and murmured soft, sweet words into the space between him and yami.

“you did so well, my brave little girl…” he said, eyes glistening with both pride and guilt. “i’m so sorry i didn’t realize something was wrong sooner.”

his words weren’t just for her—they were an apology etched with quiet regret, offered to a friend, a companion, a daughter in fur.

you watched him, heart aching and full, before sitting down beside him. the two of you began to softly talk, your voices wrapped in the stillness of the hospital room. you discussed logistics, trying to build a schedule around your mismatched university lives—two different majors, different class times, different days of availability. yet somehow, in this moment, it felt like you were a perfect team.

you negotiated who would visit in the mornings and who would cover the evenings. jungwon insisted on taking the weekends. you agreed on everything with surprising ease.

eventually, it was time to let yami rest in peace and healing. you whispered one last goodbye, gently promising to return soon, before slipping out of the hospital and into the comforting hum of the night.

a few blocks away, the soft yellow glow of a convenience store pulled you in like a familiar friend. the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you wandered through the aisles, finally remembering that jungwon had promised to buy you dinner. you were actually just joking about making him buy you dinner.

he noticed when you instinctively pulled out your phone to pay, and with a chuckle, reached over to stop you.

“ah-ah, no cheating. this one’s on me, remember?” he said, grinning as he took your items from your hands and placed them on the counter.

you pouted in protest but let him win this round.

the cashier looked at the two of you—your teasing, your easy laughter, the way you hovered near each other like planets in orbit—and let out a sigh so deep it might’ve reached the freezer section. clearly, he’d witnessed one too many lovebirds tonight.

jungwon thanked him anyway and led you to a small table just outside, where the evening air was cool but gentle. he took your jjapaghetti and his, insisting on cooking them himself at the store’s instant noodle station.

“sit. i’ll take care of it,” he said, rolling up his sleeves like a man on a mission.

you watched him from the table, arms resting on the surface, chin in your hand, amusement dancing in your eyes. the way he moved—slightly awkward but determined—made your chest feel oddly warm. it was like he was trying to patch up every crack between you two, one act of care at a time.

when he returned, he had two perfectly cooked bowls in his hands, the noodles expertly mixed and steaming. he even bought both of you boiled eggs.

you took yours with a small smile.

and just like that, the conversation began to flow—light, effortless, and full of the kind of laughter that only comes after tears.

you both talked for what felt like hours—conversation flowing as naturally as breath, like no time had passed at all since you last truly talked to each other.

you traded stories about university life, swapping updates on the chaos of lectures, grumbling about professors who seemed to enjoy assigning misery disguised as coursework, and laughing over just how many assignments you'd both had to juggle. midterms were creeping in like an unwelcome guest, and naturally, the mutual panic came with it.

“i swear my brain physically rejects information after 10 p.m.,” you sighed dramatically, and jungwon snorted in agreement, nodding as though you'd just spoken a universal truth.

after that night, things didn’t just go back to normal—they evolved. the late-night meetups continued, and the hospital visits turned into a shared routine. together, you took turns watching over yami, your fluffy little patient, as she slowly recovered under your care.

when she was finally discharged, you both made a quiet, unspoken agreement—this bond you had rekindled wasn’t going to fade again.

somewhere along the way, you found yourselves exchanging apartment passcodes. it started with practicality.

“since yami will be recovering in your place, it just makes sense if i can get in when you're not home,” you told him, casually typing his code into your notes app.

but for some reason, something tugged at you, something inexplicable. before you could second guess it, you found yourself grabbing jungwon's phone and typing in your own code for him.

“just in case of emergencies,” you mumbled with an awkward chuckle, barely meeting his eyes.

jungwon blinked at you, surprised. there was a beat of silence before he sighed—half amused, half endeared—and nodded.

“got it. emergencies,” he said with a knowing smirk, and just like that, you had each other’s doors.

of course, neither of you abused the privilege. jungwon would never just barge in unannounced, and neither would you. whenever you needed to come by, you made sure to check in first—typically over chat.

you: hey, are you out already? jungwon (yami's dad): yep, left 20 mins ago. yami’s being a diva, btw. you: as always. omw.

you took turns tending to her. when jungwon had lectures and you didn’t, you'd head over to his place, and vice versa. it was a rhythm. comforting. like the soft ticking of a clock that no longer reminded you of time lost, but of time shared.

and, of course, with all the apartment visits came unexpected moments.

like that one day—early into the routine—when you slipped into jungwon’s apartment thinking he had already left for class.

you were halfway into the kitchen when you turned and froze. there he was. not fully dressed. not even halfway there. just a towel. wrapped low on his waist. beads of water still trailing down his chest like tiny betrayals of modesty.

you screamed.

a full, honest-to-goodness, high-pitched yelp as you covered your face with both hands like you’d seen the sun itself.

“i am so sorry!” you cried, spinning on your heel, eyes sealed shut like that would somehow erase what you had just witnessed.

jungwon, the absolute menace, just laughed.

like, really laughed.

“this reminds me of our first meeting,” he said between fits of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls. “back then, you screamed and used yami as your cover.”

“oh my god, don’t remind me,” you groaned behind your hands, your face burning hotter than a stove top.

“okay, okay—i’ll go change. just, please… sit down before you pass out,” he added, still chuckling as he disappeared into his room.

you slumped onto the couch, muttering to yourself about how life really had a sense of humor.

after that day, jungwon had handed you his class schedule—organized and color-coded, of course, like any responsible student who’s secretly on the edge. in return, you gave him yours, and he blinked in surprise.

“why... do i need yours?” he asked, brows raised in curiosity.

you shrugged nonchalantly, like the answer was obvious. “it’s only fair. i’m learning things about your schedule—you deserve to know mine too.”

he looked at you like you had just spoken in riddles, but accepted it anyway. after all, who was he to turn down something you were willing to offer?

and so began the strange little rhythm of your new-old friendship.

some days, jungwon would return home from a long day of classes and find you fast asleep in his apartment. sometimes curled up on the couch with yami tucked against your chest like a soft, living plush toy; other times, shockingly, on his bed as if it were your own.

the first time it happened, he stood frozen in the doorway of his bedroom for a moment, silently debating whether to wake you. eventually, he leaned down and gently nudged your shoulder.

you stirred. groaned. then furrowed your brows and muttered a very grumpy, “what?”

“uh… you’re in my apartment,” he reminded you softly, trying not to laugh.

and then it hit you.

your eyes flew open as realization smacked you across the face. you sat up abruptly, hair a wild mess, and gawked at him. “i—oh my god, i’m so sorry—i didn’t mean to fall asleep! i'm so sorry!”

before he could say anything else, you practically sprinted back to your own apartment, still mortified.

but the pattern continued. again and again, he'd come home to find you asleep—clearly drained from classes, yami-care, or both. so one day, he simply... stopped waking you.

instead, he slipped off his shoes quietly, crouched beside you, and carried you out of the apartment—arms tucked under your knees and back like some ridiculous scene from a romantic drama. you stirred once, but mumbled something incoherent and immediately dozed off again. jungwon had memorized your apartment passcode by then, and with careful, almost reverent movements, he’d unlock your door.

he tucked you in like it was second nature, smoothing the blanket over you, taking off your shoes and socks before slipping out quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.

soon, the changes in both your lives didn’t go unnoticed.

your friends, and jungwon’s too, began to raise eyebrows. yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, on your side, noticed you were constantly busy or vanishing early. meanwhile, jungwon’s group noticed how he always seemed to be in a rush after class, brushing off plans with a vague “i’ve got something to do.”

at first, no one minded much. people get busy. life happens. jungwon's friends also knew what happened to yami.but then came the smiling.

the random giggles during lunch. the way both of you would suddenly light up as if remembering an inside joke—or maybe, a memory only the two of you shared.

“what’s so funny?” yunjin would ask, brow arched.

“nothing,” you’d reply smoothly, lips twitching into a grin. “just remembered something stupid.”

jungwon gave similar answers to his friends. just a shrug. “something funny popped in my head.”

and yet, neither group knew what was really happening—that the two of you had found your way back to each other. that you had forgiven jungwon, and he had done everything short of building a bridge out of guilt to prove he deserved that forgiveness.

the truth was quiet. private. fragile like a secret flower just beginning to bloom again.

you both agreed—no grand announcements, not yet.

especially not to your girls—yunjin, kazuha, and charwon—who, to this day, still carried a heavy grudge on your behalf. they hadn’t forgotten what jungwon had said to you. and sure, he’d apologized, more than once, but as far as they were concerned, no apology could patch a wound they didn’t see heal.

“if they find out…” you had said one night, sprawled on the floor beside yami’s bed while jungwon fed her bits of tuna.

“they’d freak out,” he finished, sighing.

you nodded. “like, full-blown drama. group chat explosion. maybe even a powerpoint presentation on why you don’t deserve redemption.”

he winced. “honestly? wouldn’t put it past yunjin.”

and yet, beneath the secrecy, the late-night visits, and the quiet laughter, something warm was rebuilding. something delicate but real.

and neither of you wanted to rush it.

until the day your friends finally snapped, you had naively believed you were in the clear. but deep down, you always knew they were too attuned to you—like they shared some mystical thread of best-friend telepathy. they had a way of knowing when something shifted, when the air around you carried a different weight, or in this case, a different lightness.

you had tried—really, really tried—to hide the fact that you and jungwon were friends again. but apparently, happiness has a scent, and your friends could smell it from miles away. they didn’t know the cause, but they knew it was something. and for a while, they let it be. after all, you looked so radiant lately, so effortlessly content, and they didn’t want to be the ones to dim your smile with questions.

what they didn’t know was that the reason behind your glow, your random giggles, and your oddly planned schedule wasn’t some secret hobby or newfound passion—it was jungwon.

and then there was yunjin.

being in the same course as jungwon had its advantages—and disadvantages, especially if you were trying to keep secrets. she noticed the changes in him, too. the way he practically floated down the halls, always in a rush to head home. how he'd cancel plans with his friends without explanation. and worst of all, the sudden, dreamy smiles he’d give the floor mid-lecture, as if he were remembering some inside joke with a ghost.

it was suspicious. too suspicious.

so yunjin, being the sharp, unrelenting investigator she was, told kazuha and chaewon. and that was it—the final straw. the three of them decided that they’d had enough of guessing and speculating. it was time to confront the mystery head-on.

they staged an intervention. well, more like an ambush.

the plan was simple: show up unannounced at your apartment and demand answers. the execution, however, didn’t go as smoothly.

they rang your doorbell, fully expecting you to swing the door open with your usual cheer, maybe holding a snack, ready to welcome them in like always. they had even messaged you earlier, letting you know they were coming. typically, you’d have already unlocked the door before they even knocked.

but today... silence.

minutes passed.

long, unsettling minutes.

the hallway suddenly felt too quiet, the air too heavy. unease began to crawl up their spines, unwelcome and ice-cold.

“why isn’t she answering?” kazuha muttered, her voice a little shaky.

“maybe she fell asleep?” chaewon offered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

but then—like dominoes—they each started to spiral. what if something had happened? what if all the happiness you showed them was just a mask? what if, behind closed doors, you were suffering? what if—

“no,” yunjin muttered, eyes wide with dread. “we’re going in.”

and just like that, all rules of privacy went out the window.

they didn’t even hesitate. kazuha quickly typed in the passcode to your apartment—yes, the very one you’d given them for emergency purposes—and swung the door open, fully prepared for the worst.

“hello?!” yunjin called out, her voice trembling slightly as the three of them stormed inside.

panic gripped them as they split up like a search-and-rescue team on a mission. chaewon rushed into your room, kazuha flung open the bathroom door, and yunjin—god bless her—checked behind the shower curtain like she was in a horror movie. the kitchen cabinets were flung open, the walk-in closet ransacked, and at one point, kazuha even opened a cabinet barely big enough to store a rice cooker.

“she wouldn’t fit in there,” chaewon pointed out the very obvious.

“you never know!” kazuha snapped, clearly not thinking logically anymore.

if only you could’ve seen them—running around your apartment, shouting your name, opening drawers, yanking back curtains, checking behind doors as if you might have evaporated into your own walls. they were full-on spiraling, their fear turning dramatic in the most chaotic way possible.

in their eyes, this was a rescue mission not knowing you just weren't home.

you were, at that very moment, next door—in jungwon’s apartment—nestled into the familiar rhythm of helping him take care of yami. the three of you had just started debating what movie to watch, scrolling through options with so much seriousness.your phone, however, had other plans.

it rang—sharp and sudden—and when you glanced down at the screen, your breath caught in your throat.

the caller ID sent a wave of panic through you.

without hesitation, you pressed a finger to your lips and gave jungwon a wide-eyed look of warning. he immediately froze, catching on in record time. with a comically exaggerated movement, he nodded solemnly and even went as far as to gently cover yami’s tiny mouth, just in case she decided now was the perfect time to meow for attention. traitor tendencies and all.

you stood up, nerves tingling, and answered the call with a quiet, “hello?” already tiptoeing toward the balcony as if whispering might somehow protect you from what was coming.

on the other end of the line: chaos.

a barrage of voices erupted all at once—yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon—your personal trio of interrogation. they sounded like they'd just run a marathon and immediately signed up for a second one. you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“guys, calm down,” you said with a chuckle, trying to sound casual despite your heartbeat pounding like an alarm inside your chest.

you slipped out onto the balcony to hear them better, your phone pressed tightly against your ear. but just as you turned slightly—casually glancing toward your own apartment—your blood turned cold.

they were there.

your friends. inside your apartment.

you froze in place, eyes wide, barely managing to duck out of sight before they turned toward the window. with all the grace of a panicked raccoon, you dropped down and crawled back into jungwon’s living room, abandoning all dignity in the process.

jungwon blinked at you from the couch, startled. his mouth opened to ask what was happening, but you shot him another frantic look and pressed the phone tighter to your ear, whispering, “shh—they’re in my apartment like right now.”

his eyes widened as he nodded, then mouthed, ‘oh no’, dramatically clutching yami closer like they were watching a thriller unfold in real time.

on the phone, your friends had clearly heard your shocked reaction. “wait—what was that? where ‘are’ you?” yunjin asked, suspicion leaking into every syllable.

you scrambled for a lie. any lie.

“uh… i’m at the convenient store near my place,” you said, forcing a nonchalant tone that sounded just a little too bright. “i was craving snacks. y'know, those late-night snacks that i love so much.”

dead silence.

“but they don’t have the ones i want,” you added quickly, layering your story with unnecessary details the way all bad liars do.

“then what was that noise earlier?” yunjin pressed, clearly not buying it. “you sounded startled. did something happen?”

you closed your eyes briefly, praying for divine intervention.

“oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, nerves rattling in your chest like loose change. “i bumped into something. y'know, walking in public while using my phone—bad combination.”

jungwon, still watching you like you were the most entertaining show he’d ever seen, bit down on a smile and shook his head, mouthing, ‘you're so bad at this.’

and you were. spectacularly so.but for now, you had bought yourself a few more seconds—and in a war against the nosiest trio you knew, that was nothing short of a miracle.

fortunately, they bought it. or at least, they bought just enough of it.

they were still shaken, their thoughts clouded by the fog of panic they'd conjured only moments ago. nothing you said was fully registering, but the sound of your voice—alive, casual, unmistakably you—was enough to soothe their frayed nerves. for now, that was all they needed. you were safe. breathing. talking. and that was more than enough.

as they continued to chatter on, still slightly breathless from their overactive imagination, you looked over at jungwon and silently mouthed, ‘i need to go, now.’

he didn’t need any further explanation. he immediately and quietly placed yami down onto the couch, giving her a gentle pat, then grabbed your school bag and your hoodie in one swift motion, already moving to help you get out the door undetected.

he caught up to you by the door, carefully sliding your bag over your arms, adjusting the straps against your back with quiet focus. the gesture was gentle, familiar—like he'd done it a hundred times before. all the while, you nodded and hummed into the phone, pretending to listen as your friends continued to recount their horror scenario.

“we thought something happened to you! you weren’t answering our chats as well as your door and we panicked!” yunjin’s voice cracked through the speaker with frantic sincerity. “so we just—barged in. we’re sorry! but also not sorry!”

you gave a soft laugh, mostly to hide your guilt. “it’s okay, really. i appreciate you guys being worried. it’s... sweet,” you said, hoping your tone masked the full-blown adrenaline still coursing through your body.

as you slipped on your shoes in a quiet hurry, jungwon crouched beside you, holding the heel steady so you could slide your foot in faster. you looked up at him with a grateful smile, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’. he nodded, lips twitching upward in amusement, clearly entertained by your spy-level escape mission.

with everything in place, you waved at him quickly before darting out the door and sprinting—quietly but with urgency—toward the elevator.

you pressed the down button and glanced back once to make sure the coast was clear. the doors opened with a ding, and you stepped inside, straightening your hoodie, fixing your expression, and pressing the button to your floor once more to sell the illusion.

you were now playing the role of a perfectly unaware girl who just returned from a snack run.

“alright guys,” you said smoothly into the phone, as the elevator began to ascend, “let’s continue this at home. i’m already exiting the elevator.”

you ended the call just in time, your heart thudding with each step as you walked down the hallway toward your apartment.

and then—right on cue—the door flew open.

your friends stood there, their expressions a mixture of relief, guilt, and overwhelming love. they didn’t hesitate. the moment they saw you, they ran to you like you were a long-lost puppy finally coming home.

you barely had time to react before you were wrapped in their arms—tight and trembling, warm and chaotic. you could feel their relief in the way they held you, as if trying to squeeze the fear out of their systems.

you laughed, a bit breathless, and hugged them back.

deep down, you couldn’t help but silently thank your past self for the brilliant idea of pretending to come from the elevator.

because from the way they were reacting now—tears in their eyes, hearts on their sleeves—had they known the truth, you would’ve never heard the end of it.

it took nearly the entire afternoon—well into the dusky stretch of early evening—before your friends finally calmed down.

they had clung to you, refusing to let go, trailing behind you as though you might suddenly vanish if left unsupervised for even a second. their eyes watched your every move, their expressions a mix of relief, suspicion, and dramatic devastation. you'd never felt so… babysat.

and now here you were: slumped on your couch, rendered immobile by the weight of your very persistent, very affectionate friends.

kazuha had her head nestled against your shoulder, arms looped tightly around yours like a stubborn koala. chaewon mirrored her on the other side, equally glued to you in her own pouty embrace. and as if that weren’t enough, yunjin had claimed your lap entirely—head resting across your thighs, her legs curled comfortably and half draped over chaewon, as if your body had suddenly become their favorite therapy blanket.

they were venting in turns, occasionally overlapping in a trio of chaotic voices. they told you every absurd theory they’d imagined during those few minutes of silence. how they had watched one too many videos on tiktok and youtube shorts—those ominous signs to look out for clips—feeding their paranoia like gasoline to a bonfire.

“it’s the algorithm’s fault!” yunjin declared dramatically, waving her hand in the air like a defense lawyer. “i saw one video about hidden depression and then ten more just popped up! how was i not supposed to panic?!”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out despite yourself. they all pouted in response, clearly wounded by your amusement.

“we were worried,” chaewon added, her voice muffled against your hoodie. “like, seriously worried. and you didn’t respond to our messages.”

“you scared us,” kazuha whispered, her grip on your arm tightening.

the laughter faded gently from your lips. you softened. they weren’t being dramatic just for the sake of it. they were scared because they cared—so deeply and unconditionally that they were willing to break into your home just to be sure you were okay.

and it took everything in you not to crack right there. not to spill the truth about jungwon. because lying to them—especially them—felt like swallowing glass.

you’d never lied to them before. not once. and now here you were, sitting in a fortress of limbs and love, withholding something that would surely make them storm into jungwon’s apartment if they ever found out.

they had been nothing but good to you. unwavering. supportive. champions of your battles, even the silent ones. and yet, you were keeping this secret because you knew how they’d react—not out of hatred, but out of fierce loyalty to you. they still held onto that wound, the one jungwon had left behind, even though he’d already apologized. even though things had changed.

but still… somewhere inside you, buried beneath the guilt and caution, you believed—maybe hoped—they would eventually support you, whatever your heart chose. they always had.

the hours slipped by easily after that. laughter returned in waves, and conversation flowed effortlessly. snacks were passed around, silly stories were exchanged, and you just felt happy to spend this time with them.

eventually, the evening dimmed into night, and your friends finally decided it was time to leave—but not before fussing over you one last time. they hovered at your door, double-checking that you're truly fine. they repeated their reassurances, that you could always talk to them, anytime, no matter what.

you smiled at their concern, brushing off their worries with gentle humor.

“i’m really okay,” you promised for what felt like the fiftieth time. “i’m happy. like, genuinely happy. no thoughts of doom, no secret sadness. besides, you all know i’m not that kind of person.”

yunjin narrowed her eyes. “that’s what people say before—”

“—before they text cryptic messages and disappear? i get it.” you chuckled. “but trust me, if anything ever happens—if i get sad or something goes wrong—you’ll know immediately. because, duh. bestie telepathy.”

they hesitated… then smiled.

“fine. we’ll trust the telepathy,” kazuha muttered, nudging your shoulder.

“but if it fails even once,” chaewon added, raising a brow, “we’re installing surveillance cameras.”

you laughed, nodding solemnly. “deal.”

you walked them to the elevator, watching as they entered and gave you a series of suspicious parting glares and half-serious i'm watching you finger gestures. the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off their laughter—and just like that, the hall was quiet again.

but your heart wasn’t.

the moment the metal doors closed, you turned on your heel and sprinted down the corridor like your life depended on it.

straight to jungwon’s apartment.

you pulled out your phone and quickly tapped out a message to jungwon.

you: they’ve left. i’m coming over again.

a soft chime confirmed it was sent. no reply came, but that wasn’t surprising—you knew he wasn’t the most phone-attached person, and besides, you figured he was probably cuddled up on the couch with yami by now, maybe already half-asleep with a cartoon humming softly in the background.

you stood in front of his door before opening the door gently, careful not to let the hinges creak too much. a little peek inside told you the living room was empty. the couch sat unbothered, the television off, the air still and warm.

your brows furrowed in mild confusion. where could they be?

your steps softened instinctively, light as a whisper, as you stepped farther inside. just as you were about to call out their names, you heard it—his voice. jungwon’s voice, low and unguarded, drifting faintly from his room.

you turned toward the hallway. the door to his bedroom stood slightly ajar, just enough for his voice to reach you, but not enough for him to see you standing there.

you paused, mid-step. you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop—honestly, you hadn’t—but something in his tone made you freeze. he wasn’t just chatting. he was... confessing. to someone.

no, not someone.

yami.

you inched a bit closer, your back pressed lightly to the wall beside the door, breath caught in your throat. every part of you screamed that this was private, that you were crossing into territory you weren’t meant to enter—but curiosity took over your whole being.

“yami,” jungwon said gently, “i don’t know when it started…”

his voice was soft—barely above a murmur—but every syllable reached you like a heartbeat.

“i don’t know when i started realizing that these feelings i’ve been having for y/n are… something more serious than i thought.”

your eyes widened slightly. your pulse skipped.

he paused, as if searching through memories in real time.

“maybe it was when she ran into our apartment with you in her arms,” he continued, his tone touched with awe, “looking all panicked and out of breath. i’ve never seen her like that. she looked so shaken, but so determined. she just wanted to make sure you were okay. that moment—i don’t know—it showed me how… pure she is.”

there was a little silence, like even yami was respectfully letting him speak.

“and i remember thinking,” he added, a quiet laugh escaping him, “i want to protect that. protect her. from anything and everything.”

you bit your lip. your hands were frozen at your sides, heart dancing wildly beneath your ribs.

“or maybe,” he continued, “maybe it was after the hospital. when we got home and she sat next to you, humming lullabies like she was made for that moment. or when she started bringing over those lunch boxes, like clockwork.”

you could picture every moment he was describing, the memories rushing back to you in vivid color.

“the post-its she leaves on the fridge,” he said, his voice growing fonder, “reminding me to give you your meds, reminding me i have a quiz and that i should try not to fail.”

he let out a breathy chuckle, the kind you only hear when someone’s smiling to themselves.

“maybe it’s the way she plays with you like you’re her own. maybe it’s the way she’s always here… like this tiny, chaotic force of care and sunshine. maybe it was when she called you our child! or maybe—”

he stopped. you imagined him inhaling deeply, as though he'd just realized he’d said all of that in one breath.

you stood there, still invisible, your cheeks warm, your heart heavier than you’d ever expected it to be in this hallway.and yet… it felt light, too.

like hearing something you didn’t know you needed.

“or maybe,” jungwon murmured, eyes still fixed on yami, “maybe it was during those months we weren’t speaking... when we were ignoring each other like strangers in the same orbit. maybe that’s when it hit me—too late, of course—that she isn’t just someone. she’s the one i can’t lose. she means more to me than i wanted to admit—not just as a friend.”

yami, ever the attentive feline therapist, offered a small, understanding meow as her tail flicked lazily over the bed.

he gave her a fond smile, almost as if she truly understood him.

“or maybe it all began the day i met her... on our balcony,” he continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “it felt like a scene out of some indie romance movie. time slowed, and there she was—standing in this accidental spotlight, like the universe had decided to highlight her existence just for me.”

he lifted his hands, gesturing as if trying to recreate the way your silhouette had looked that day—light tangled in your hair, expression unreadable, presence unforgettable.

“whenever i saw her after that—even if she was far away, just sitting quietly in a café or walking down the street—she shone. like, actually shone. it scared me. i’ve never been that aware of someone before.”

he paused, letting out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for a while.

“i’ve never felt this way,” he admitted quietly, “but i do know this: i really, really like y/n. i want her in my life. the first time she came into our apartment... it didn’t feel new or strange. it felt natural. like she was always supposed to be here—with us.”

his voice softened as he looked down at his hands.

“and the first time she fell asleep on my bed... i just stood there, staring. i didn’t want to move her. she looked so peaceful—so right—like she belonged there, like she belonged with me.”

a flush crept across his cheeks at the memory, and he reached up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

“ugh,” he groaned suddenly, throwing himself back against his pillows. “i can’t take this anymore. i like her. no—scratch that. maybe i already love her? i want her. i need her. i think about her all the time. but what if... what if i’m too late?”

his eyes flicked toward yami, now stretching lazily beside him, as if wholly unbothered by the human-level emotional crisis unraveling in front of her.

“what we end up like my parents?” he whispered but you couldn't quite hear and only heard what he said next.

“what if she doesn’t like me back? what if she still hates me after everything i did? what if i tell her and she—yami? hey, where are you going?”

his voice stopped abruptly as yami leapt from the bed with purpose and began making her way toward the door, her little paws padding silently across the hardwood floor.

what jungwon didn’t know was that you were right outside that door—still frozen in place, still very much reeling from everything you'd just heard.

you peeked through the crack of his door and saw yami approaching, a jolt of panic seizing your chest.

oh no.

you scrambled into action.

just as yami neared the door, you turned on your heel and darted towards the door, your socked feet barely making a sound. you slipped out of the apartment with the stealth of someone escaping from a heist, closing the door behind you as gently and carefully as if it were made of glass.

once outside, you leaned back against it, chest heaving, heart positively thrashing against your ribs.

your hands flew up to your cheeks, which felt like they were on fire.

your entire face was burning with a heat that reached the tips of your ears. you didn’t even try to cool down—you just stood there, stunned and blushing, the echoes of his confession still tangled in your thoughts like music you didn’t want to stop playing.

you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to steady the wild rhythm of your heart. it felt like it was trying to escape—like it was knocking against your ribs, desperate to tell the world what you'd just heard. with your eyes shut tight, you took slow, deep breaths, trying to collect yourself, to gather the storm of butterflies flurrying in your stomach.

but in your desperate attempt to ground yourself, you failed to notice the very thing that would knock the wind out of you all over again.

“what… the actual hell?”

your eyes snapped open.

and there they were—three familiar faces frozen in the corridor like statues caught mid-gasp. wide eyes. parted lips. looks of sheer disbelief. yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon stared at you like they’d just witnessed a crime scene. or worse—a plot twist.

you followed their line of sight and realized, with dawning horror, that they’d just watched you bolt out of jungwon’s apartment like a sitcom character caught sneaking around.

“what were you doing… in his apartment?” yunjin asked, her tone somewhere between confused and full-on interrogator mode.

you shot up from your leaning position as if spring-loaded, your mind racing to form a coherent sentence. but before a single word could escape your lips, your phone buzzed in your hand.

you looked down. a message from jungwon.

jungwon (yami’s dad): hey, are you still coming?

your breath caught.

your eyes darted toward his door just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of soft footsteps approaching—getting closer by the second.

oh no.

panic surged through you like a tidal wave.

without thinking, you grabbed all three of your stunned friends by their wrists and dragged them—utterly bewildered—into your apartment. the door clicked shut behind you just as jungwon’s doorknob gently rattled.

before any of them could so much as squeak out another question, you whipped out your phone like it was a grenade and your only chance at survival was disarming the situation.

you: nvm. i think i’ll come by tomorrow instead. kinda got tired chatting with my friends earlier. see you tomorrow!

you pressed send with the swiftness of someone sending a last message before a spaceship launches, then stuffed your phone deep into your pocket like it had become radioactive.

you turned around slowly.

your friends were now standing in the middle of your apartment, each of them fully in character as annoyed best friends waiting for answers. kazuha had her arms crossed and one perfectly sculpted brow raised. chaewon had both hands on her hips, a deadly combination. and yunjin—yunjin was tapping her foot against the floor like a teacher whose patience had long expired.

none of them said anything. not yet.

they didn’t have to.

their expressions screamed ‘start talking’.

“i can explain!” you blurted out, your hands shooting up in front of you like a peace offering, or more accurately, like that iconic scene from jurassic world—you, the humble trainer, and your three friends, very much the emotional equivalent of untamed velociraptors, ready to pounce.

yunjin narrowed her eyes and took a single, menacing step forward. “can you?” she asked, her voice calm, which only made her more terrifying.

“yes! yes, i can! but only if everyone agrees to not breathe fire at me while i speak,” you said quickly, then pointed toward the couch like a flight attendant gesturing toward the nearest emergency exit. “please. let’s all sit down like civilized humans. no growling. no biting.”

the three of them exchanged glances, sighed in unison, and—thankfully—complied. there was some dramatic eye-rolling and aggressive seat-choosing involved, but you counted it as a small victory.

as they sank into the couch, arms crossed and expressions guarded, you followed with a hand still pressed to your chest, finally letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. your nerves were fraying at the edges. your heartbeat was doing the equivalent of parkour against your ribs.

this could go one of two ways.

option one: they hear you out. they understand. maybe they don’t love the choices you made, but they forgive you. maybe, just maybe, they’ll even offer their support—help you execute the chaotic plans already forming in your lovesick mind.

option two: they shut you down before the words can fully leave your lips. they get angry. they walk out. they tell you it’s unforgivable. and maybe… maybe you lose jungwon in the fallout too.

you sat down, trying to summon courage from whatever was left inside you. the truth weighed heavily on your chest—awkward, warm, and impossible to ignore now that jungwon’s feelings had been revealed like a secret written across the sky.

you didn’t just want your friends’ approval. you needed it. their love, their laughter, their irrational loyalty in the middle of your love-struck chaos. because this wasn’t just about a boy. this was about something more fragile and terrifying: hope.

and if you were going to navigate the emotional maze ahead, with jungwon’s confession echoing in your ears, you were going to need their help.

all of it.

taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia @nijisanjigenshin @kkamismom12 @kinamurariki @soobundle1009 @supershy3 @nodoubtily @vrikisn @jayjw16enxp @skzfangirl143 @0leelina0 @noriiluv @o2whre @nocturnebite @userprdx @fangirl125reader @slvrnm @wonnieswife @joonsflwr @yunmislove @raavenarmy-blog (taglist is still open, comment to be added.) final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part seven will be posted on wednesday. see you guys then!

©⠀mæwphoria⠀|⠀all works belong to me. strictly do not plagiarize, copy, translate, paraphrase, rewrite or repost my works on any other platforms. if it's inspiration gained from my work then it's appreciated and i wish you good luck with your own stories. thank you.

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himasgod · 2 months ago

Note

I want to see Idia help dying reader(cancer perhap) keep it a secret from other. Only Idia know that reader dont have much time!

IDIA X READER

Where you are terminally ill.

Where you spend your last moments with him

I really hesitated to write this one, as it's a very, very sensitive topic. Of course, these types of illnesses shouldn't be romanticized, so I haven't added any sugar coating to this fic under any circumstances. They should be treated with the respect they deserve. If this content is triggering for you, I ask that you not read it.

Your diagnosis came quietly.

No dramatic crashes, no outbursts.

Just you, sitting in the sterile nurse’s office with that white paper crinkling beneath your hands, trying not to cry when you’re told that magic and potions can only do so much.

Stage four. Late discovery. Spreading like wildfire.

You were running out of time. Months, if you were lucky.

You told Idia first—not because it was easy, but because it was necessary.

He noticed things others didn’t: the way your fingers trembled when you held your books, how you started taking longer naps in his room, and how you felt weaker each day.

He listened that night, shoulders hunched, blue hair dimming to a dull sickly hue as you explained it.

"I don’t want anyone else to know,” you had said. “Just you.”

And he had nodded, eyes glassy, trembling like his fingers were already typing out a thousand lines of code to try and find a solution that didn’t exist.

The world still turned.

NRC still buzzed with chaos.

You still went to class, laughed when Grim made a fool thing, and lived in Ramshackle like everything was normal.

Like you weren’t quietly dying from the inside out.

Only Idia knew.

You’d sneak away between classes to rest in his room, curled up beneath a blanket while he played games beside you, pretending not to glance your way every few minutes just to make sure you were still breathing.

"Y'know... you're just farming sympathy buffs from me at this point," he mumbled one evening, awkwardly pressing a warm mug of tea into your hands.

His fingers lingered too long.

“I should be charging mana for all this emotional damage.”

You smiled, weak.

“I’ll pay you back in hugs.”

“Not fair... That’s like... an SSR-tier bribe.”

Sometimes, when you were too tired to speak, he’d talk to fill the silence. About his game progress. About the latest manga chapters.

About Ortho, who had no idea you were fading.

You never asked him to lie to Ortho. But he did anyway.

“I told him you’re just really busy,” Idia murmured once, sitting on the edge of his bed, fingers digging into his sleeves.

“That you’re helping Crowley with secret work or whatever.”

“That’s a terrible lie.”

“Yeah, well… it worked. He believes in you more than, like, 99.999% of people. And I guess I do too.”

He paused, voice cracking.

“So maybe I’m lying to myself too.”

“Idia…”

“I know. I know, okay? You don’t have to say it. Just… stay. Here. With me. For as long as you can.”

The days blurred.

You stopped attending most classes.

Everyone thought you were simply burnt out or finally fed up with the school’s chaos. Even Grim didn’t suspect much, too busy enjoying the tuna and the quieter dorm without having to fight ghosts or deal with overblots every weekend.

But Idia knew. He always knew.

He watched the color drain from your face, the way your body moved slower than it used to, like you were stuck in molasses.

The way your coughs grew harsher and more painful, and how sometimes, when you tried to speak, the words didn’t come out right.

And yet you still smiled for him.

“You’re still here,” you whispered one night, curled into him under the flicker of his room’s neon lights.

“Of course I am. Where else would I be? The... "final boss fight" hasn’t even started yet…”

“Idia, there’s no final boss. Just… a game over screen.”

He flinched, the words slicing through the layers of deflection and sarcasm he used like armor.

“I’ll... I’ll find a way,” he said, pulling you tighter.

“I don’t care if I have to hack into the underworld or bribe Hades himself. I’ll use forbidden code, I’ll glitch the world—hell, I’ll write a patch for reality. Just... don’t go. Please.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering.

“I didn’t tell anyone else because I didn’t want them to look at me differently. I just wanted to be me. Just… me and you. Like always.”

“And that’s all I want too,” he whispered, tears he never let himself cry sliding down his cheek.

“Just the two of us.”

And the final week came faster than either of you could have prepared for.

You could barely stand anymore.

He carried you everywhere now—not that you were heavy, just that your legs forgot how to move most days.

He set up a custom bed in his room, surrounded by screens playing soft ambient music from your favorite games.

Ortho wasn’t allowed in, which hurt, but Idia had made some excuse about “anti-virus calibration zones.”

You both knew this was goodbye, even if you didn’t say it.

And on the last night, when your breath was shallow and uneven, he held your hand like it was a lifeline.

"I’m scared. I don't want to die, Idia...," you whispered as you looked into his dark-circled eyes for the last time..

“I’m not,” he said, even though his hair had turned the color of ash and his voice was shaking.

“I’ll keep you here, in every memory, every save file, every photo, every saved profile. I’ll talk to you every day. In my head. In my dreams. You’ll be part of my world always.”

You tried to smile.

“Even after the Game Over screen?”

He squeezed your hand.

“Especially then.”

You looked away from his eyes and up at the fading ceiling.

"Idia… meeting you and loving you was the best thing that could have happened to me."

And when your breath slowed, your grip loosened, and your eyes fluttered shut for the last time—

Idia didn’t scream.

He didn’t cry out.

He just held you, silently, for hours.

His screens blinked around him. A still frame of your favorite game lingered on one of them.

“Yuu has left the world. Yuu has left me.” he whispered.

But deep down, he believed—you were just waiting for him at the next checkpoint.

One where it was just the two of you.

#idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x yuu #idia x yuu #idia shroud #idia #twst idia #twisted wonderland angst #twst x reader #twst angst #twisted x yuu #twst headcanons #twisted one shot #twst scenario #twst x reader angst #twisted wonderland idia #idia twst

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pinkaditty · 4 months ago

Text

Victim (Perv!SlightYan!Haku Kusanagi x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

Part 1: There's a Snake under your Bed!

being held at gunpoint uhhhhmmmm sorry! haku’s my fav! bang!

a/n: so i can’t get this idea out of my head. enjoy. it's been swimming in my head for literal DAYS. please eat and enjoy this or ill cry. also blame aya she put so much perv! haku shit on my dash that i went in2 cardiac arrest and had 2 write this LMFAOOAOAO

summary: haku walks you back after hanging out at hotarubi. the rain traps you inside.

cw: perverted haku kusanagi, slight yandere/unhinged haku kusanagi (?), weird behavior, implied peeping tom, etc etc u guys know the drill. NOT PROOFREAD i just edited the typos idk if it's perfect. ill polish it later maybe.

QUICK BLURB: @kkink recently contacted me and was kind enough to let me know that we both had the same ideas for this prompt and they have written something similar. im not sure if they've posted theirs yet, but please check them out! they were super nice and were really concerned about it, so give them some love please!

BEFORE YOU READ: ok last thing: i personally hc haku 2 be a natural redhead. his hair is probably copper. why? bc his roots, even in his cat and chibi sprites, are shown to be red. i think he just chooses 2 dye his hair green, but you can't dye your lashes (safely, at least), which is why his lashes in this fic are described as copper. okok that's all.

It starts when you accidentally let it slip that Haku’s your favorite ghoul. Not that anybody—including Haku himself—didn’t really know, but hearing it from you is different altogether.

He was walking you back to the chapel after you spent the afternoon at Hotarubi. There was no particular reason for your visit, just to see the ghouls and perhaps escape from the otherwise chaotic atmosphere of Darkwick campus. As ever, Haku, Subaru, and Zenji were welcoming, and happily accommodated you with sweets, tea, pleasant conversation, and the soft pattering of the rain filling any silence. You miss the constant rain in Hotarubi every time you leave, even if it’s raining on Darkwick campus in general.

Haku keeps his pace a bit slower than usual so you can keep up, clearly not in any rush to drop you off. He’s humming a pleasant tune, one of the many ones you’ve heard him play on his flute before. You appreciated his leisurely attitude, smiling to yourself. Something about when he hums or plays on his flute makes you feel relaxed, even with all that’s happening on campus. You are content to let the silence continue, filled with the rumbling of the sky signaling thunder, and Haku’s pleasant humming.

Unfortunately, either a higher power has a grudge against you or Darkwick is cursed, because in mere moments, a soft drizzle that had you and Haku speedwalking to your door turned into a surprisingly heavy downpour, right as you turn the corner to the chapel. With the two of you soaked, it hardly seemed worth it to speed walk any longer.

You exchange glances with Haku, taking in his drenched form. Your amusement must show on your face, for his eyes crinkle with mirth as well. You think for a moment his eyes linger on your chest, but maybe you're imagining it.

Finally on the front steps of the chapel, you open your door and tumble into the much warmer, drier environment. You look back to Haku, just as he's waving farewell.

“See you around, princess." He winks at you, smiling brightly despite the rain. "Come by again sometime.”

He's about to turn on his heel and march back to Hotarubi in the rain when you reach out and grasp his wrist. It almost slips out of your hand from how slick it is due to the rain.

"No, stay.”

He whips his head around and glances at your firm grip on his wrist, a light blush coming to his face. As he turns his gaze back to you, he smiles wryly. “Why, need help getting undressed after all this rain?” His eyes narrow with mirth, and another emotion you can’t quite place.

A blush colors your face but you don’t respond, a bit surprised by his forwardness. Haku was always forward with you, but you can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

Your silence must have spooked him, because he turns away, his smile fading just a little. “Kidding, I promise.” You almost wish he wasn’t. He turns back to you, smiling brightly as though the joke really hadn’t meant anything. “Really though, I should get back to Hotarubi. Subaru’s waiting on me.”

His excuses barely phase you, and they don’t help to loosen your grip, either. You tug him inside, and he reluctantly follows, albeit with some resistance. “Subaru will understand. I can’t let you catch a cold.” You release his wrist once he’s inside and quickly shut the door behind him, effectively trapping him inside. You then tug him along to your room, biting back a smile when you feel his resistance fade.

You open the door and usher Haku inside, pressing your hands insistently on his back until he relents and slinks inside, standing awkwardly close to the door like a lost wet cat. You shut the door behind him again, walking into your room comfortably. You turn to him, only to notice his eyes scanning the room, as though committing it to memory, before his eyes halt on something just over your shoulder. You turn around questioningly, only to realize in your rush to leave for Hotarubi, you had left a small pile of clothes in front of your bed, including some embarrassingly patterned intimates. Your face colors immediately, and you rush over, nearly tripping over your feet to get to the pile. You bundle the small pile in your arms, looking towards Haku apologetically. You stammer before finding the right words, painfully aware of Haku’s amused gaze boring into you. “S-Sorry! Um, I was in a rush before I left for Hotarubi, and—”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Haku cuts you off, shaking his head. “I’m the same way. Back home, I’d leave my jackets lying around so frequently I’d trip over them pretty often.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling shyly.

You tilt your head at him, forgetting you’re holding a pile of panties and bras as you turn towards him. “Huh.” You take a moment to absorb this new information, smiling softly. It was funny how the heir to a rather prestigious Shinto shrine was so normal with odd habits of his own. It made your heart swell with familiarity. “What did your family think of that?"

He shakes his head, glancing away. “My family hardly went in my room.” From the uncharacteristically stoic tone in his voice, you assumed it wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about. You respect that, letting the slightly awkward silence settle over you two. Before long, you notice him intermittently glancing at the pile of clothes you still carried in your arms. You rush to shove them into your hamper, moving it out of sight behind a chair. It’s when he laughs that you realize you may have gone overboard.

“I hope you don’t invite just any guy over when you’ve got your clothes lying around like that.” Haku jokes, scuffing his shoes against the wooden floor. A wry smile twists his face again, and his gaze flickers from you to where you hid the hamper. “Some of them might get the wrong idea, you know.” With the way his gaze fixates on you as he says that, you are almost inclined to believe that was a warning against him specifically. You suppress a shiver and blink at him curiously instead, smiling amusedly.

“Well, I know I can trust you!” You turn away, heading towards a closet to collect some towels for the two of you. “You’re my favorite ghoul.”

You grab two white towels and shuffle back to Haku, noticing he seems rather stiff and wide-eyed. He clicks his tongue as he regains his relaxed composure, smirking at you as though he were fine moments ago. “You say that to all the ghouls I bet.” He chuckles.

“No, just you.” You’re standing rather close to Haku, using your own towel to dry off your hair. You’re uncomfortably aware of how your uniform sticks to your body. It makes you shiver, holding the towel tight against your neck. When you look up again, Haku’s gaze snaps upwards to meet yours. You were sure he’d been looking at your chest just now, but maybe you’re overthinking it. “I know I’m technically not allowed favorites,” you start, a teasing smile growing on your face, “but you’ve been so kind. How could you not be my favorite?” You smile cheerily at him before stepping back and focusing on drying your hair, relieving yourself from some of the stagnant chill of the rapidly cooling water.

Instead of painstakingly attempting to dry your uniform blazer, you decide to try and peel it off. You’ve barely managed to shrug it off your shoulders before you turn back to Haku. He jumps slightly, his gaze flickering to your face, as though he’d been in a trance. “You should take off your wet blazer, too. You’ll still catch a cold if you keep wet clothes on.”

You turn away and struggle with your blazer a bit more, the sleeves and back insistently stuck to your skin thanks to the rain. Haku laughs behind you, and you hear approaching footsteps. “You know princess, I am always down to help you undress.” His voice lowers in tone by a few notes. You shiver as a warm hand settles on your shoulder. Even warmer breath curls around your ear and you fight the urge to shiver again. “All you have to do is ask.” You can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, but choose to ignore it, letting him take hold of one of the sleeves of your blazer.

He’s definitely only teasing you. Your face is burning from the sudden closeness, and you’re almost certain the stifled chuckle from behind is him enjoying your embarrassed, speechless state. He successfully helps you wiggle out of one arm of the blazer, and you think you feel his fingers tracing your bra straps before he helps you slide out of the other arm of your blazer.

You turn towards him, and he hands your blazer back to you, looking smug. Something flickers in his eyes, but you can’t quite place what. He almost looks excited. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” You reluctantly hum an agreement, rolling your eyes. He could tease you all he wanted, but that didn’t mean you’d play along forever.

Still amused, Haku turns away and begins peeling his own blazer off. For a moment, you’re stuck watching his movements, observing how his skin peeks through the drenched layers of his shirt, watching as his shoulders flexed when he tugged on his sleeves. Droplets of water still hang from his hair, gently clinging to the back of his neck. You hear him chuckle, and look up to find his gaze fixed on you over his shoulder. “It’s rude to stare, princess.”

To prove a point, you turn away, huffing indignantly. You use your towel to attempt to dry off some more, but even with that, you still feel unusually cold. You glance longingly towards your bathroom, imagining the benefits of a hot shower. But that would probably be rude to do, especially with Haku here. You sigh and place your towel atop a chair, sitting on it so you don't get the chair wet. Haku joins you, sitting on a chair next to you. You watch as a stray droplet of water slides down the side of his face, eventually dipping down his jaw and sliding down his neck before disappearing below the collar of his uniform shirt. Idly, you wonder if the droplet joined the clinging moisture of his top, or continued rolling down his slightly exposed collarbone.

Before you can think to check, Haku clears his throat, and you lift your gaze to meet his. “Using your hands is far more effective than using your eyes to undress me." He winks at you, his smile curling into something less teasing and more genuinely suggestive.

You exclaim, embarrassed at having been caught staring again, and once again tripped up by his forwardness. You scramble to retort in time, folding your arms in front of your chest, not missing how Haku’s gaze drops shamelessly. “If you keep making jokes about us being undressed, I'm going to start assuming it's something you want to do." You smirk at him, your face lighting up with mirth. “There's a bit of truth in every joke, after all." You speak in a singsong voice, further teasing Haku. Of course, you didn't want the jokes to stop, but that didn't mean you couldn't tease him about any potential desires he could be unaware of.

The way Haku looks at you as you tease him sends a curious shiver down your spine. The way his tongue flicks across his lips for a moment paired with his piercing gaze reminds you of a snake. His smile is neither teasing, nor suggestive, but almost sinister in nature. “What, you want the truth of me being a pervert who wants to see you undressed?”

Something about his tone was teasing, but there wasn't the slightest hint of a lie in what he suggested. You aren't sure what expression you're making, too focused on suppressing the nervous, wild smile that threatened to spread across your face. You open and close your mouth, trying to find a response, but any witty or even lackluster responses fail to come to you.

Haku bursts out in laughter, but something about it feels somewhat forced. “I’m kidding, I promise!" He says between remnant chuckles, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “Gosh, you should see your face." He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands. He points at your face, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn that color.”

You bury your face in your hands, not bothering to look up when Haku continues laughing. He was only teasing, you were sure of that…

You decide to simply ignore him again, shivering. You hug yourself with your arms, looking longingly towards your bathroom again. It'd have to wait. You glance towards the window, noting the rain still pattering. You shiver again without realizing, wondering if it would be too far to take your soaked shirt off and wrap your towel around yourself instead.

“Go ahead." Haku speaks up, and when you turn towards him, he jerks his head towards your bathroom. “I don't mind."

You shake your head, smiling politely. “No, it’s fine! It’d be rude of me to shower while a guest is over—”

Haku shrugs at your words before cutting you off. “And who is a guest to interrupt her highness’s shower?” He smiles fondly at your perplexed expression, glancing towards the window. “The rain’s letting up, anyway. I won’t be here much longer, so it doesn’t matter.”

You try not to deflate at Haku’s mention of his eventual departure. Instead, you gaze at him warily, trying to ensure he really is okay with you disappearing for twenty minutes or so. He simply returns your gaze, blinking slowly, an easy smile on his face.

You relent, finally turning away after feeling your skin prickle with something between excitement and hesitance. You look towards the shower again, before glancing at him once more out of the corner of your eye. He sighs and holds out his hand, his pinky outstretched. “Here, I promise I won’t do anything strange.” He smiles again, his expression seemingly open and trusting, the same Haku you first met on the train several months ago. “You can trust me. I’m your favorite, right?” His smile turns cheeky, and you try and fail to resist returning his smile. You reach out with your pinky too, circling it around his own. His skin is warm to the touch, and you notice a callous on his fingertip, probably from years of perfecting the flute.

After holding his pinky for a moment too long, you finally pull away and lift yourself from the chair, gathering a fresh outfit before heading for the shower. You pretend not to feel Haku’s gaze following your movements.

You give Haku a slight wave before closing the door to the bathroom, leaning your back on the door. You still felt a bit odd about all of this, but he was still your favorite ghoul. You were sure you could trust him to not pillage your dresser like you’d expect some other ghouls to do with reckless abandon.

You pause as you start undressing, thinking to yourself for a moment. You trace the straps of your bra in the same way you were sure Haku had earlier when he helped you take off your blazer. He’s been nothing but decent, if not a little flirtatious. Sure, his actions and jokes were questionable, and both Subaru and Zenji have had to metaphorically pull on his leash every now and again, but he was still kind. Perhaps this had something to do with why he was so awkward and hesitant about being alone with you? You decide to halt your thoughts there and swallow the desire of indecency from him. You clench your jaw, feeling your body heat up as you attempt to stave off your arousal. You were definitely due for a cold shower to at least shake these thoughts off.

You flinch at the cold temperature of the water when you finally step inside, and after feeling like you were somewhat clean of perverse desires, you turn the water back to a warmer temperature. As you bathe, grateful for the warm water at long last, you glance at the door momentarily. It’s cracked open, a golden eye framed by copper lashes gazing at you through the space. You look away, not having fully absorbed the scene. A jolt passes through you as what you just saw settles in. You suddenly startle and quickly move to cover yourself, looking back at the door, just a split second from when you’d first glanced.

It was closed.

You blink at the closed door, feeling your heartbeat thump insistently in your chest. You heave, your mouth hanging open in shock. You place a hand on your chest, keeping your gaze on the door. After a few minutes of silently staring at the door, you allow yourself to minutely relax, reducing the tremor in your arms to a barely noticeable tremble. You breathe deeply, each exhale coming out like a sigh of relief. You blink a few more times, as though to clear your vision, and turn back to the door. Still closed. You shake your head and return to bathing, mulling over what you had seen. There really was no other explanation besides you potentially hallucinating that, right? Right. Perhaps you hadn’t looked closely enough and had seen what you wanted to see, right? Right. Haku was pretty harmless, right? …Well, he is a ghoul. But besides that, he’s harmless. Probably. And when you think about it, you’d give the same judgement to most of the ghouls on campus, anyway. Probably harmless so long as you didn’t piss them off. You nod to yourself, shaking your head again as you turn off the water. You hadn’t seen anything, after all.

As you’re drying off, moisturizing, and getting dressed in a fresh outfit, you notice a puddle of something just inside the room, right in front of the door. It was almost invisible against the white tile, but still there nonetheless. It was a white, milky, translucent substance. You finish dressing after keeping an eye on it like the puddle would escape. You open the bathroom door as you gaze at it, walking past it. It looks like it could be some of your vanilla-scented soap, but—

“Hey,” Haku calls to you from the front of the room, adjusting his blazer. One look at the windows tells you the rain has finally let up, bits of sun shining through gaps in the clouds. You trot out of the bathroom, puddle forgotten, and approach Haku.

You exaggerate a pout, crossing your arms. “Leaving already?”

Haku laughs, reaching out and swiping his knuckle under your chin, lifting your face. “Cheer up,” he says before pulling back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll come visit another time.”

You huff, shooing him away with your hands. He chuckles and turns away, opening the door. “First you’re pouting, and now you’re shooing me away?”

“Subaru’s waiting, isn’t he?” You cross your arms and lean on the doorway, watching as he makes his way to the entrance of the chapel.

Haku sucks in a breath, a grimace forming on his face. “Ah, yeah.” Haku rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Hope I’m not in trouble…” He mumbles to himself, opening the chapel door and stepping outside. He looks back and waves, cheeky smile on his face. He’s probably thinking about how he’s your favorite ghoul.

You wave back, and wait until the door finally closes to step back inside your own room, closing the other door behind you. Your fingers curl into your palms as you try not to excitedly run over to the side of your bed. You tamp down your excitement, walking slowly. You crouch next to the corner of your bed and try to wipe the stupid smile off of your face before peeking around the corner at the hamper full of clothes you’d stashed here earlier. The pile was noticeably lacking, even smaller than it was before. The most obvious and memorable patterns were still there, but you could tell a few of your intimates were definitely missing. You try not to let your smile grow wider, biting down harshly on your lips.

He’d taken the bait.

a/n: is literally vibrating with excitement IM FINISHED OH MY GODDDD THIS TOOK SO LONGGGGG EVERYONE PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!!!! god i hope this is literally PERFECT i spent 4ever making it just right so i hope it gets y'alls toes curling or whatever amen!

shamelessly, as per usual, please, i love likes, but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work! im catering to you! please, let me know if you liked it!

ok let me. try and stop shaking IMS OS EXCITED 2 POST!!!!!!! okok im done

4got 2 add this in earlier but self-indulgent: in case ur like me and cannot stop pacing bc of perv!haku x reader, here's the songs i listened 2 while writing this:

"judas" and "monster" by lady gaga

"mind brand" by maretu

"gasoline" by halsey

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow

want 2 join the tkdb taglist? let me know!

#minors dni #tkdb #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tdb #tokyo debunker mc #tkdb smut #haku kusanagi x mc #tokyo debunker haku #tokyo debunker haku kusanagi #haku kusanagi #haku kusanagi x reader #haku kusanagi x reader smut #haku kusanagi x mc smut

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