#just a little something while i work on drafts and DRAW >:I | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cbeargyu · 1 month ago

Text

only the petals remain

summary: you wake up in a hospital after a tragic accident, your body broken and your soul lonelier than ever. then you meet jaehyun—the boy with a fragile heart and the only one who can see the flower blooming on your wrist, the sacred mark said to reveal your soulmate. with each tender moment you share, a new petal appears, drawing you both closer to a love written in fate. but as the flower nears its final bloom, so does time. now, only one petal remains—and he’s no longer here to see it.

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, romance, soulmate au, hospital au, slow burn, tragedy, emotional healing, psychological drama.

warnings: character death, grief, depression, medical trauma, chronic illness, disability recovery, emotional dependency, survivor’s guilt, strong language, heavy emotional themes, vivid hospital scenes, mentions of suicide ideation (implied), terminal illness, unresolved trauma, soulmate mark (body symbolism), tragic ending.

⚠ this is not proofread so pls ignore any typos or mistakes ily <3

wc: 18,4k

notes: hi babiesss!!🩷 i was feeling like writing something about jaehyun but my brain was literally fried from doing too much lately lmaoo 😭😭 then i remembered i had this old draft on my wattpad acc, i had only written up to the part where they first meet and never finished it so it just sat there abandoned in my drafts 😭 but i was like... okay it’s time. y’all know how i get carried away with ideas and end up writing wayyyy too much 😭 and still i feel like i didn’t write enough?? like i wanted to add even more scenes 😭😭 but i really hope u enjoy it and maybe cry a little like i did while writing 🥹🫶

darkness.

it's all you know when it begins. not the kind that feels peaceful or quiet, but the kind that presses against your skin, dense and suffocating, as if the world itself has collapsed in on you. there’s no pain. not yet. only the weightless sense of floating somewhere between existence and oblivion.

then a light. faint at first—like a single star flickering at the edge of a black sky. it pulses. and with it comes a voice, not male nor female, not loud but impossibly clear, resonating inside your head like it’s always been there.

"you can’t die yet."

you want to ask why. you want to scream that you're tired, that your bones feel like they've been shattered into dust, that you don't even remember who you are anymore. but your voice doesn’t work here.

"you left something unfinished. someone waits for you. your soulmate. the one your soul is tied to... you must go back."

a soft breeze, warm like a memory, brushes your skin, and as it does, something burns—your left wrist. you look down and see it: a tiny ink mark blooming into a single flower in the center of your skin. delicate, soft red like blood. no petals. just the center. incomplete.

"this will guide you," the voice whispers. "only you can see it. every time you are near them, the flower will begin to bloom. a petal for every step closer."

and then, silence.

you wake up to screaming.

your body jolts, restrained by thick straps of pain and heavy sedation. your lungs forget how to breathe. you're surrounded by flashing lights, the cold sting of needles in your veins, the rush of white coats and beeping monitors. and amidst it all, two familiar voices—your parents—crying your name.

they’re holding your hand, sobbing uncontrollably, but the moment is ripped away as the doctors push them back, their voices drowned in a sea of urgency.

“bp rising—get more oxygen in. prepare for transfusion—”

“she’s conscious. vitals climbing—get neurology—”

you don’t understand any of it. your body aches like it's been set on fire. broken. barely whole. you try to move, but your limbs betray you.

and then everything fades to black again.

a week later

you've barely moved from your hospital bed. every inch of you is wrapped, stitched, bruised beyond recognition. machines breathe for you at night. your bones are held together by metal rods and quiet prayers. you’ve heard nothing about the crash, nothing about the others. your parents avoid your eyes. the nurses change the subject. and you're not allowed to leave the room, not even to ask.

but you know. deep down. you know.

they’re gone.

jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin.

gone.

their laughter still echoes in the hollow parts of your memory—the roar of the engine, the way the wind slapped against your face as you screamed into the night, drunk on champagne and invincibility. jongin’s dare. your cruel smirk. the wall. the impact.

the regret swells in your chest every time you close your eyes.

three weeks later

your body is still too weak to walk. a kind nurse, seoyun, wheels you out into the hospital garden to get fresh air. she talks as if you're old friends, spilling stories about her latest dating failures while she trims dead leaves from the bushes.

you nod politely, say nothing. you don’t care. not really. the world feels dulled, colors muted, sounds distant. you drift in and out of her words until something catches your eye—your wrist.

the flower.

still there. unchanged. no one else sees it. seoyun doesn’t even glance at it as she brushes your hand. it’s small, a red spider lily, delicate and eerie, like it's been drawn with threads of fate itself. only the core is visible. no petals. lifeless.

you stare at it for a long time.

and then—laughter.

bright, clean, almost melodic.

your head snaps toward the sound before you realize why. across the garden, near one of the marble benches, a boy sits in the sun. blonde hair, grown out and soft, glowing under the light. he’s laughing at something another patient says, hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort. an older nurse leans beside him, amused.

he doesn't notice you.

your chest tightens. not in recognition, not in love—just... intrigue. something unspoken. your fingers twitch over your lap as your eyes linger on the stranger.

you can't look away.

you tell yourself it’s nothing.

just a stranger with a pretty smile. the kind of face that lingers in the memory a little longer than it should. but you don’t think about him that night, or the next day. not really. your world still revolves around recovery, the dull ache of broken bones, the tightness in your chest every time you breathe. the nights are worse—quiet, haunted. the silence presses on your ears, makes you wish for someone to talk to, someone to scream at, someone to ask why you’re still alive when they’re not.

but then, he appears again.

not by design. not because you’re looking for him.

they’re wheeling you into radiology for your scheduled scans, your body limp in the chair, head lolling slightly to the side as you try not to vomit from the motion, and there he is—jaehyun—standing at the nurses’ station like he belongs there, laughing with one of the interns. he’s wearing hospital clothes, like you, though his are looser, cleaner, almost lived-in. he gestures animatedly with his hands, a plastic cup of apple juice in one, and his laugh rises above the quiet buzz of the hallway like a song you don’t know but somehow remember.

he doesn’t look at you.

not then.

and yet something stirs in your chest again. not a feeling, not exactly. just... that itch. like the edge of a memory. something that wants to pull you forward.

you don’t ask seoyun about him that day. you think about it. the words hover at the edge of your tongue as she helps adjust your blankets once you’re back in bed. she hums as she works, cheerful as ever, a melody of someone too used to grief to let it show. but your throat tightens before the question can form. you stay silent.

and the next day, he’s there again.

this time, in the cafeteria. you’re being pushed past the open double doors on your way to physical therapy, a session you’ve been dreading since the moment they mentioned it. your legs still feel foreign. your arms tremble even holding a spoon. but the moment you pass that room, you hear him.

his voice. lower than expected. smooth, gentle. he's reading something out loud—an article? a joke?—to one of the older patients, and there’s laughter again, warm and full and effortless. the kind of laughter that wraps around your spine and squeezes.

you can’t explain it.

it’s not a crush. not an attraction. not even curiosity, not yet.

just... something about him refuses to let you go.

it happens enough times that even seoyun notices the way your eyes drift. after one long session of breathing exercises and tendon stretching that leaves your body in sweat and tremors, she wheels you back into your room and raises an eyebrow when you glance over your shoulder for just a second too long.

“you’ve seen jaehyun again, huh?” she says it so casually, like you’re talking about the weather. her tone doesn’t tease, but there’s something behind it—fondness, maybe.

the name sits strangely on your tongue. “jaehyun?”

she hums, pushing the brake on the chair before checking the IV bag hanging at your side. “jung jaehyun. he’s been here a while. longer than most. he’s... hard to miss.”

you say nothing. you don’t have to. your silence is enough of a question.

seoyun softens, her expression shifting to something quieter. she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and lowers her voice, as if afraid the walls will hear her. “he has a condition. congenital. his heart’s smaller than it should be. underdeveloped. it’s rare. not many make it past childhood.” she sighs, her gaze distant. “but jaehyun… he keeps surprising everyone.”

you look down at your lap, at the slight tremor in your hands. your flower remains the same. one red center. no petals. dormant.

“so he lives here?” you ask, surprised by the way your voice cracks.

“pretty much. his body isn’t strong enough to leave for long. he stays between treatments, surgeries, check-ups. sometimes he goes home for a few days, but he always ends up back here.” she shrugs, as if that’s just how life is. “he makes it bearable though. the nurses love him. the other patients do too. he’s… special.”

you don’t ask what that means. you’re not sure you want to know.

but from that day on, you start seeing him more.

in the hallways, on the elevators, sitting by the window in the waiting room where the morning light touches his hair like gold. sometimes he’s reading. sometimes talking to someone. once, he’s sketching something in a notebook, pencil smudging the edge of his palm. you don’t speak. neither does he. but your eyes meet once—just briefly—and he smiles.

not like he knows you. not like he wants to.

just... politely.

your heart does something strange then. not racing. not skipping.

just... noticing.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t bloom. not yet. but that center glows warmer under the sun, like it’s waking up.

and you begin to wonder.

not just about him.

but about what it means to have a second chance. about why you’re still breathing, even when everything hurts. about whether the universe really gave you another shot to find something—someone—that could make you feel alive again.

because if that’s true… maybe you already know where to start looking.

the sun is warm that morning. too warm for autumn, really. it spills over the garden like melted honey, soaking into your skin as seoyun wheels you along the gravel path, humming under her breath like always. she talks about the morning shift—short-staffed, as usual—and how one of the doctors mixed up two prescriptions yesterday but caught it just in time.

you’re only half listening.

your eyes scan the garden lazily, not looking for him exactly, but half-hoping, half-dreading you might see him again. and you do—jaehyun—sitting beneath the sycamore tree in the far corner, a sketchbook balanced on his lap, pencil in hand, head bent in concentration. his blond hair glows pale in the sunlight, loose strands catching on the breeze, and he looks so calm, so untouchable, you almost tell seoyun to turn you around.

but then she stops suddenly.

“shit,” she mutters, glancing at her phone. “i need to run to the reception—paperwork emergency. can you wait here for a few minutes?”

before you can answer, she turns toward jaehyun, waving. “hey, jaehyun! could you sit with her for a bit? i won’t be long.”

you freeze.

he looks up. his eyes meet yours. warm, honey brown. his face is unreadable at first, then softens into something polite.

“sure,” he says, closing his sketchbook gently. “no problem.”

your stomach knots. you want to protest. say no, say i’m fine, say i don’t need a babysitter. but by the time you open your mouth, he’s already beside you, dropping gracefully into the chair next to yours like he’s done this a hundred times.

“hi,” he says simply, voice low, smooth, like velvet over steel. “i’ve heard about you.”

you arch a brow. “not sure if that’s comforting.”

his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “the girl from the accident, right? seoyun and the nurses talk about you sometimes. they were really worried.”

you look away, the mention of it scraping something raw inside your chest. “figures.”

he doesn’t press. doesn’t pry. just sits there, watching the light filter through the branches above. the silence stretches between you, not heavy, just unfamiliar.

you glance sideways at him.

his features are sharp but softened by the gentle curve of his mouth, the kindness in his eyes. there’s something steady about him, grounded. like he’s used to sitting beside people who’ve lost things.

“you live here or something?” you ask, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

he chuckles, not offended. “pretty much. i’ve got a suite on the fifth floor. ocean view and everything.”

you snort before you can stop yourself. “must be nice.”

he shrugs. “could do without the needles, though.”

you glance down at your wrist, instinctive now. the flower stares back at you—still small, still centered—and for a moment, you wonder what he would say if he could see it too. if he could feel the way your skin just prickled beneath the scarred edge of your cast. the burn is sudden, like a flicker of heat just beneath the surface, and then—

a petal blooms.

right there, delicate and perfect, curling outward from the center. red as blood.

your breath catches.

“are you okay?” jaehyun’s voice is gentle, curious.

you curl your hand into a fist, hide the wrist against your thigh, heart thudding loud enough to drown out the birds in the trees. “fine,” you lie.

he watches you for a moment longer, like he knows you're hiding something. but again—he doesn’t push.

instead, he leans back in the chair, tilting his face toward the sun. “you don’t talk much,” he says after a while.

“neither do you.”

he laughs quietly. “fair enough.”

more silence. it should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. not really. the tension in your shoulders slowly uncoils, like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks and only just now remembered how to exhale.

“so what’s your deal?” you ask finally. “you’re always... around. talking to people. laughing like you’re not in a hospital.”

his lips press together, amused. “i figure if i’m stuck here, might as well make it bearable. besides,” he glances at you, eyes glinting with quiet mischief, “i like people.”

“must be nice.”

he studies you for a second. “you don’t?”

you shrug, gaze flicking out over the flowers blooming beside the bench. “i used to. or maybe i just used people. kind of hard to tell the difference when you grow up getting everything handed to you.”

his voice softens. “money?”

“money. attention. friends with too many secrets and not enough shame.” you clench your jaw. “it didn’t matter how many parties i threw or how expensive my clothes were. i was just... bored. all the time. like something was missing and i couldn’t figure out what.”

he doesn’t judge. doesn’t even blink.

just nods, thoughtful.

“maybe something was.”

you look at him. “you believe in that stuff?”

his head tilts slightly. “you don’t?”

“i’m not sure i believe in anything.”

he smiles again, but this one’s different—smaller, quieter. sad.

“sometimes,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “the universe gives you signs. tiny ones. you just have to be paying attention.”

you think about the flower.

about the warmth still pulsing in your wrist like a heartbeat.

about how his presence doesn’t feel like a coincidence.

“what if you miss the sign?” you ask.

jaehyun’s gaze doesn’t leave yours.

“then i think,” he says slowly, “it finds another way to reach you.”

seoyun returns a minute later, flustered and apologetic, thanking jaehyun as he stands. he brushes off the gratitude with a gentle smile and a quick nod to you.

“see you around,” he says.

and for the first time in weeks, you hear yourself say it back.

“yeah. see you.”

he finds you again a few days later, sketchbook in hand, the sun already slipping into its golden descent over the garden. you’re sitting near the fountain this time, legs covered in a thin hospital blanket, watching koi fish ripple through the still water. you don’t notice him until his shadow spills over yours, soft and hesitant.

“hey,” he says, voice calm as always. “mind if i join you?”

you nod, almost before you realize it.

he sits close but not too close, resting the sketchbook on his knees, fingers absently playing with the elastic band around it. for a while, neither of you says anything. the breeze rustles the leaves, the fountain babbles on. then he speaks, eyes still on the pond.

“you said you don’t believe in anything,” he murmurs, like picking up a thread you forgot you left behind. “but you looked at that flower on your wrist like it meant something.”

your breath catches, but you don’t answer.

instead, you glance down at the mark. the red petal still curves around the center like a whisper of fate. it hasn't changed since that day, but it feels alive. pulsing. waiting.

he shifts beside you, the sketchbook now open on his lap. you watch as he flips through pages carefully, one after another, until he lands on one near the middle.

he turns it toward you.

“i wanted to show you these.”

your breath stutters.

each page is a world—soft pencil strokes bringing landscapes to life, delicate portraits of nurses, elderly patients, even seoyun caught mid-laughter beneath the pergola. the emotion he captures is almost impossible. you see not just faces and places, but moments—tiny slivers of something real that feel more tangible than your own memories.

“you drew all of these?”

“yeah,” he says, sheepish. “it keeps me sane.”

you don’t speak for a long time, your eyes traveling over every line, every smudge of graphite. you don’t want to look away. your fingers hover near the page, almost afraid to touch.

“they’re beautiful,” you whisper. “you’re... talented doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

he smiles softly. “thanks.”

when you finally meet his eyes, you see it there again—that quiet transparency in him, the unflinching way he sees the world and somehow still manages to draw light from it.

you want to ask how he does it. how he keeps from drowning.

but you’re not ready yet.

that night, back in your hospital room, everything shatters.

your parents are sitting at your bedside. your mother’s fingers are laced together so tightly her knuckles have turned white. your father stares at the floor, jaw clenched.

you feel it before they say anything.

“sweetheart,” your mother starts, her voice cracking at the edges, “we didn’t want to overwhelm you before, but... it’s time.”

your body tenses.

you know what’s coming.

“jongin... seulgi... minkyung... taemin...” she swallows. “none of them made it. jongin and seulgi died at the crash. minkyung passed in the ambulance. taemin... he held on a bit longer, but...”

the rest is a blur.

a rush of static through your ears, like the world folded in on itself.

you don’t remember crying. just the way your chest collapsed. like a building gutted from the inside.

your father wraps his arms around you when your sobs finally come. your mother presses kisses to your hair like she used to when you were a child, whispering things that don’t reach you. none of it helps.

nothing will.

the next morning, a psychiatrist is assigned to you. dr. nam. soft-spoken, patient. she says the trauma is complex, that grief moves in waves, that healing won’t be linear. she’s not wrong, but you don’t believe her yet.

you stop asking seoyun to wheel you out into the garden. when she offers, you shake your head. “not today,” you say, every time.

the sunlight feels too bright.

the air, too sharp.

even breathing hurts.

but then—

one quiet afternoon, there’s a knock at your door. not seoyun. not your parents.

jaehyun steps inside, sketchbook in hand.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just walks over and sits in the chair beside your bed. you notice his hands are trembling a little, like this matters to him more than he wants you to know.

he opens the sketchbook slowly and turns it around.

you freeze.

it’s you.

you, sitting in your wheelchair beneath the sycamore tree, head tilted toward the sky, blanket draped over your legs, the sunlight caught in your hair. the expression on your face is calm, distant, unknowable. and somehow—he captured the heaviness in your shoulders, the guarded way you hold your hands, the flicker of sadness in your eyes.

you reach for it without thinking, fingertips ghosting over the paper like it might dissolve.

“you drew this?” you ask, barely breathing.

he nods once.

“why?”

he shrugs, gaze fixed on you now, open and bare.

“you looked like someone who needed to see herself from the outside.”

your throat tightens. your eyes sting.

you look back down at the drawing, tracing the lines of your own face like they belong to someone else. something in your chest shifts, aches. no one has ever seen you like this. not even you.

when you look back at him, tears blur your vision.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything.”

but you want to.

you want to say thank you. you want to say how did you know? you want to say please don’t leave yet.

and maybe—deep down—you want to say stay with me.

he smiles then, warm and quiet, and something in your soul stirs again.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t burn this time.

but it pulses, faint and certain, as if it's reminding you—

you’re not alone anymore.

the silence between you stretches, and then breaks—quietly, painfully—into the sound of your own sobbing.

you clutch the drawing to your chest, fingers trembling over the soft paper edges, as if it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. your body curls slightly over the sketch, like you could shield it—or maybe, like it could shield you.

you don’t fight the tears. they come too fast, too hard. hot streaks down your cheeks, choking sobs that rattle your healing ribs. the weight of everything—your loss, your guilt, the ache in your bones, the terrifying pull of fate burning into your skin—crashes into you all at once.

your left wrist burns. you don’t need to look. you know.

the flower has grown.

but you pretend it hasn’t. pretend it’s just the drawing that’s breaking you like this.

jaehyun doesn’t say anything. he watches you with wide, soft eyes that seem to see everything and judge nothing. then, slowly, he stands from the chair and crosses the small space between you. he moves gently, like approaching a frightened animal, like one wrong step might send you spiraling further.

he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving enough space that you can still breathe. his hand reaches out—hesitating for a second—and then rests on your head. his fingers move through your hair with an impossible tenderness, like he’s afraid of hurting you more than you already are.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “you’re okay.”

his voice is warm honey, settling deep in your chest.

his hand slides down, brushing your temple, and then cups your cheek. his thumb catches a tear and wipes it away.

you shiver at the touch.

not because it’s cold.

because it feels like home.

no one’s touched you like this since the crash.

no one’s held you like this without needing something in return.

you blink up at him, still crying, and his expression doesn’t waver. calm. steady. like he’s telling you through that look that you don’t have to hide anymore. not from him.

you don’t say a word.

but in that moment, you let yourself fall just a little into him.

not all the way. not yet.

but enough.

the days stretch.

therapy begins, slowly, painfully. your body is stiff, unfamiliar. walking is like learning from scratch—muscles weak, balance fragile. you hate the mirror now. you hate the bruises, the scars, the way your reflection no longer feels like your own.

but seoyun is there. jaehyun is there. dr. nam too, reminding you gently that you don’t have to climb the mountain in a day.

sometimes, when they wheel you into the physical therapy room, you catch glimpses of jaehyun in the hallway, talking to the nurses, carrying that same sketchbook under his arm. he always smiles when he sees you. not pitying. not forced.

real.

when you return to your room, you sometimes find little sketches tucked under your water bottle, or between the pages of a book seoyun brought for you. tiny gifts—your hands resting on your lap, the view from your window, the curve of your smile when you weren’t paying attention.

he draws you in moments you didn’t even notice you were alive.

and that changes something.

one morning, after a particularly exhausting session, you sit on the edge of your hospital bed, sweat clinging to your back, heart heavy. seoyun opens the door and steps aside.

“you have a visitor,” she says.

it’s him.

jaehyun.

sketchbook in one hand. a thermos in the other.

he walks in like he’s always belonged there.

“thought you could use something warm,” he says, lifting the thermos. “it’s barley tea. not coffee, but... it helps.”

you take it, brushing his fingers by accident. he lingers a moment before pulling back.

you sip, and the warmth sinks into you deeper than expected.

“thank you,” you murmur.

he nods.

and doesn’t leave.

you don’t know how long he stays, but it feels like the rest of the world stops moving outside your room. jaehyun doesn’t talk much—he simply sits with you. the warmth of his hand lingers long after he takes it back. his eyes don’t stray. he watches you like he’s trying to memorize your sadness, like it matters. like you matter.

the burn is softer now. dull. like an ember instead of a flame. when you finally look, another petal has bloomed—just one more—but it curls with delicate precision from the center, so subtle and beautiful it hurts. you touch it gently, as if it might vanish.

jaehyun notices.

your heart stutters.

“that’s new,” he says quietly, and your blood runs cold. “the flower. it wasn’t like that before, was it?”

you look up at him sharply. he saw it. the mark on your skin that’s supposed to be invisible to everyone but you.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. questions. fear. truth. all of it tangled on your tongue. you want to ask how. why. what does it mean that he can see it?

but instead, you look down again, and you lie.

“…it’s a tattoo.”

he tilts his head, curious, but doesn’t push. he smiles faintly. “it’s beautiful.”

you nod. slowly. trying to hide how your fingers are shaking.

he saw it.

your fate is no longer a shadow. it has a face. a voice. a heart that’s still beating despite everything.

and it’s too soon to say it out loud.

so you don’t.

you just breathe him in.

a few days pass.

you get stronger. your hands don’t shake as much when you hold the railing during therapy. your legs stop trembling after a few steps. your voice stops cracking when you speak. and jaehyun… he’s always there.

it’s a cloudy afternoon when he appears at your door, bright-eyed, holding a folded blanket in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“you’re coming with me today,” he says.

you arch a brow. “to where?”

“cafeteria,” he declares. “you’ve been eating that sad porridge for too long. and i found out today’s curry rice. i’m not letting you miss that.”

you smirk, feigning indifference, but your heart tugs toward him before you even realize it.

he wheels you out, careful but confident, his hands warm on the grips of the chair. there’s something reassuring in the way he moves—not just physically, but emotionally, too. he leads without pressure. offers comfort without demanding it. and when you pass the nurses’ station, they all wave and tease him like he’s part of the staff.

you reach the cafeteria just before the rush. he finds a table near the window and parks your chair beside it. he leaves briefly to grab two trays—curry rice, fruit, soup, even a tiny strawberry milk carton.

“you have to try this,” he says, sliding the milk toward you. “they say it’s for kids, but it tastes like nostalgia.”

you laugh, the sound foreign in your own mouth. it feels good.

the food is warm. heavy. the kind of meal that sticks to your soul. you eat slowly, watching him as he dips his spoon into the curry, his gaze distant for a moment.

“you know,” he starts, “i’ve never eaten in a real school cafeteria before.”

you blink. “never?”

he shrugs. “i didn’t go to school like normal kids. i was homeschooled. mostly because of my heart.”

you pause, setting your spoon down. “…what do you mean?”

his eyes flick to you. there’s no bitterness, only quiet honesty. “i was born with a condition. my heart’s smaller than it should be. weaker. not enough oxygen, not enough blood flow. doctors said i might not make it past ten.” he chuckles softly, like he’s told the story too many times. “surprise.”

your chest tightens. “jaehyun…”

he waves it off gently. “it’s okay. it’s my normal. but… yeah. my dad couldn’t handle it. moved to the u.s. when i was nine. said it was for work. he hasn’t called in years.” he shrugs again. “my mom’s the one who stayed. took care of everything. she’s… amazing.”

you don’t speak at first. there’s nothing you can say to fix that kind of hurt.

he smiles at you. “i always wanted to go to college. make friends. stay up late and complain about exams. stupid things, you know?” his laugh is soft. “but my body doesn’t really… cooperate.”

you stare at him, this boy made of ink and softness, and for the first time in weeks, you see someone who understands broken dreams.

“…i was in college,” you murmur. “before the crash.”

he looks up, interested.

you continue, your voice distant. “my parents own the han group. real estate empire. they gave me everything. cars, credit cards, connections. i never had to work for anything. just… floated through life. partied. skipped class. bought my way out of trouble.”

you glance down. “i thought i was untouchable.”

the silence thickens between you.

“were you happy?” jaehyun asks.

you don’t answer right away. “i don’t think i even knew what that meant.”

he nods, slowly, and your eyes meet.

his are steady. unjudging.

“but you survived,” he says softly. “and maybe… that means something.”

you nod, your throat tight. the wordless acknowledgment of a second chance neither of you asked for, but both seem to be finding in each other.

he smiles.

and for the first time since the night everything fell apart, you smile back—not out of habit, not to hide.

but because he’s there.

and somehow, that’s enough.

you notice it the first time by accident. the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the shade of the old tree in the garden, head tilted slightly back against the bark, sketchbook resting gently against his thigh, pencil still in hand. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, and the late afternoon light spills through the leaves above him like a broken halo. you stop in your tracks, stunned by how peaceful he looks, almost untouchable. fragile, in a way that makes your chest ache. not because he’s sick, but because he looks like a moment that could disappear if you blink too long.

you sit there for a while in silence, pretending to read a book seoyun lent you, but your eyes keep drifting back to him. something stirs in you—a pull, a question, a longing to reach out and brush your fingers over the soft brown strands of his hair just to prove he’s real. you don't. but the ache lingers in your fingertips.

the next time you’re in the garden, it's warmer, sunnier. a group of nurses walks by, chatting loudly. one of them—a new girl with pretty eyes and laughter that rings too sweet—leans down to jaehyun as he sketches something quietly beside you. she touches his shoulder, too familiar, and compliments his drawing. he laughs, easy and kind, and you feel something sharp twist in your stomach.

you don't speak, but your silence is louder than anything.

he notices. seoyun too.

when she walks away, seoyun turns to you, amused. “jealous?”

you scoff. “please.”

she grins, not pushing it, but the blush on your face betrays you anyway.

a few days pass before the next real moment. the sky is overcast, and there’s a bite to the wind even through the hospital windows. he wheels you back from your physical therapy session, a towel around your neck, your limbs heavy and sore but looser than before. progress. he says it like a celebration.

you end up in your room, seated by the window. he sits at the foot of your bed again, flipping through his sketchbook for no reason, and you watch him quietly until the words start to rise in your throat—uncomfortable, unwanted, but necessary.

“my friends died.”

he stops turning the pages, eyes slowly meeting yours.

“jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin. we were all in the car. they… they didn’t make it.”

his expression doesn’t change much, but something shifts behind his gaze. stillness. gravity.

“i kind of always knew,” you continue, voice raw, “but hearing it out loud from my parents just—i don’t know. it destroyed me.”

he doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you speak, which somehow makes it easier to go on.

“they weren’t… good people. not really. and neither was i. we were selfish. careless. rich kids playing with fire. we drank too much, laughed too loud, did everything we weren’t supposed to. it wasn’t just one bad night. we were always like that.”

your eyes sting, and you press your knuckles into them, biting back the sob that crawls up your throat.

“but they were my friends. and now they’re gone. and i lived.”

you whisper that last part like a confession, like it’s a crime.

jaehyun finally speaks. his voice is quiet, steady.

“sometimes… the universe chooses who gets to keep going. and it doesn’t always make sense. but maybe there’s a reason you survived.”

you glance at him, blinking through the tears. “a reason?”

he nods, folding his hands over his lap. “my mom used to tell me that souls don’t end. that when we die, we go somewhere else. not up or down, just… somewhere. and sometimes, if the bond is strong enough, we find each other again.”

your breath hitches.

he continues. “maybe your friends are somewhere better. maybe they’re waiting for you to live a different life. a better one.”

you look at him, and he looks back at you like he sees something in you—not just the guilt, but the hope, too.

“it’s hard to imagine a better life when everything hurts,” you admit.

he nods. “i know.”

“but you still smile,” you say softly. “you still draw. laugh. joke with the nurses. how do you do it?”

he exhales. “i wake up. i breathe. i try to find beauty in the small things. and some days…” he glances at you, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “some days are easier now.”

your heart thuds once in your chest, heavy and warm. his words settle over your skin like a soft blanket.

you reach for the sketchbook he abandoned, flipping through the pages until you find one of a riverbank at sunset, the water curling like molten gold, two silhouettes standing at the edge.

you touch it, then glance at him. “do you think… do you think they’re watching?”

he shrugs, but his eyes are gentle. “i think if they are, they’d want you to keep going.”

your voice trembles. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in a little, not close enough to touch, but near enough to feel. “maybe i can help.”

the silence that follows is full—not empty. his presence feels like gravity, and for the first time in your life, you want to stay grounded.

you nod. “okay.”

and just like that, something shifts again—not loudly, not suddenly. but deeply.

as if another petal has begun to bloom, unseen.

the idea is his, of course. it always is.

you're in the garden again, the sun already dipping below the edge of the building, casting the sky in strokes of rose and lavender. you were just finishing another therapy session when jaehyun appeared with something hidden under a blanket draped across his lap and a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.

“i hope you’re not allergic to strawberries,” he says, wheeling you toward the base of the old tree you’ve unofficially claimed as yours. “because i may or may not have bribed a nurse for some tonight.”

he spreads the blanket with a flourish, revealing two neatly packed hospital meal trays, a plastic container of strawberries, and a small thermos.

“tea,” he adds with a sheepish grin. “technically, it’s not allowed this late, but…”

you laugh softly, warmth curling in your stomach. “you’re going to get us both kicked out.”

“worth it,” he says, shrugging. “you deserve something normal.”

so you sit under the tree together, knees almost touching, your trays in your laps as you eat. the food is nothing special—bland rice, lukewarm soup—but everything tastes better when you're with him. he picks out the best strawberries for you, pointing out the heart-shaped ones and acting offended when you call him cheesy. you tell him he’s hopeless. he calls you dramatic. the laughter between you is quiet, but real. it settles into your chest like something you never knew you needed.

afterward, you both lean back against the tree, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. he’s drawn the garden at night before, he tells you—once when he couldn’t sleep and the moon was full. he flips to the page and shows you: soft shadows, the leaves whispering in the breeze, the hospital windows lit up behind the trees like stars that never go out.

you trace the lines with your eyes, fingers twitching against your lap.

“you’re not just good,” you murmur. “you’re… incredible.”

he looks at you, just for a moment, and something in his gaze softens.

“so are you.”

your breath catches. you don’t say anything.

later, when it’s time to return inside, he walks you slowly back, the silence between you no longer awkward—just peaceful. when you reach your room, he lingers at the door.

“i need to tell you something,” he says.

you tilt your head. “what is it?”

“my checkup came back really good this time. better than anyone expected. the doctors want me to rest at home for a while.”

you blink. the words don’t register at first.

“you’re… leaving?”

he nods. “just for a bit. i’ll still come to the hospital for follow-ups. i’ll visit you. i promise.”

your stomach sinks. suddenly, the thought of not seeing him every day feels unbearable. he’s become a constant, the steady rhythm in the chaos of your new reality.

he must see it in your face because he smiles gently and reaches out, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“you’ll be okay,” he says.

you nod, but you’re not sure you believe it.

the next morning, his mother comes to collect him. you meet her in the hallway outside your room. she’s elegant, composed, with soft features and tired eyes that hide their sorrow beneath expertly applied makeup. when she sees you, her smile is warm but distant.

“you must be the girl jaehyun won’t stop talking about,” she says kindly.

your cheeks flush. “i didn’t know he talked about me.”

“he doesn’t talk much about himself,” she replies, glancing at her son as he signs discharge papers. “but with you… he’s different.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

before he leaves, jaehyun gives you a folded piece of paper—another drawing. this one is of the two of you beneath the tree, laughing, your hair whipping in the breeze.

you don’t open it until you’re alone.

when you do, your heart nearly cracks.

and then, as if on cue, your wrist begins to burn—low and sharp, like a blooming spark beneath your skin. you look down slowly.

another petal.

the fifth.

you touch it with trembling fingers, watching the outline settle beside the others, the once-empty flower slowly filling. it's more than halfway now. what would happen when it completes? would everything become clear, or would it only hurt more?

you don’t know.

but you know one thing for sure: he saw it.

he always saw it.

and somehow, you think… he knows.

the first few days after jaehyun leaves are the hardest. not because anything dramatic happens, not because something has changed visibly in your world, but because of the absence—quiet, cold, and ever-present, settling over your hospital room like a forgotten blanket. there's no knock at the door just past lunch, no soft voice teasing you about the terrible food or the sharp scent of pencil shavings clinging to the sketchbook he always carried. you find yourself staring at the clock without meaning to, tracing over the familiar grooves of his name in your memory, listening for a laugh that doesn’t come.

you hold the drawing he left you too tightly. the paper has started to curl at the edges, a sign of how many times your fingers have clutched it in search of something tangible, something real. you haven’t put it away. you can’t. it's tucked between the folds of your blanket or perched on the tray beside your bed, always within reach, like a talisman against the growing ache of missing him. when you look at it, you remember the exact moment it was drawn—the way his eyes flicked between you and the page, the way the corners of his mouth turned upward with each new stroke. you wonder what he sees when he draws you. if it's anything close to how you feel when you look at him.

the flower on your wrist remains unchanged for days. five petals. just five. they sit there in delicate permanence, a reminder of how far you've come... and how far there is still to go. you find yourself watching the mark when you're alone, as if willing it to bloom might somehow bring him back. but it doesn't. and you don't know if it ever will.

the therapists try to keep your days structured. physical rehab in the morning, psychiatric sessions in the afternoon. the latter are the hardest. you speak little at first. you hate crying in front of strangers, but it keeps happening. when the psychiatrist asks about your friends, your chest tightens until the words can’t leave your throat. when she gently encourages you to talk about the accident, all you can do is close your eyes and press your nails into your palms, hoping the sting is enough to keep the memories at bay. it doesn’t work.

you think about seulgi’s laugh. about how minkyung used to braid your hair while you slept on long drives. about taemin’s ridiculous playlist choices, and how jongin always knew the best shortcuts through the city. they are shadows now. fragments. ghosts in your chest that never leave.

jaehyun calls once, a few days after his discharge. seoyun hands you the phone with a grin too wide for her face and whispers, “someone’s asking for you.” your heart stumbles over itself.

“hey,” his voice says through the receiver, soft and warm, like honey seeping into tea.

“hi,” you breathe, the word small and sharp.

there’s a pause. not awkward, just... full.

“i miss the garden,” he says finally. “miss our tree.”

“it misses you too,” you reply, and you think it might be true.

he tells you his mother made kimchi stew, that he helped her with the radishes and cut his finger in the process. he makes it sound dramatic, but you know him well enough now to hear the grin behind the complaint. you ask about his health, and he assures you he’s fine—more than fine, even. his voice dips a little, like he wants to say something more, but he stops himself. you do too.

the next time he visits, it’s unannounced. you’re in the middle of flipping through an old magazine, too distracted to care about the outdated fashion trends, when the door clicks open and he’s just... there. standing in the doorway, sunlight spilling around him like some sort of divine joke. you blink, sure you’re imagining him, but he smiles and steps in.

“thought you might be bored without me.”

you don’t realize you’re crying until he’s beside you, his thumb brushing away the tears like he’s done it a thousand times before.

he stays for hours. he sketches while you read aloud from the book you’d been pretending to care about, and the sound of your voice mixes with the soft scratch of pencil on paper. he doesn't show you the drawing this time. just folds it into his bag when you're done, like it’s something secret, something sacred.

another petal appears that night. the sixth. you trace it in the darkness, heart hammering.

one afternoon, the weather warms and seoyun wheels you to the cafeteria for lunch, but something feels different—lighter. the sun is out. the garden is green again. and when you look across the courtyard, jaehyun is there, holding a tray in one hand and pointing to an empty table with the other. “thought i’d steal you for lunch,” he calls.

he insists on pushing your chair, ignoring your protests, navigating the path with ease like he’s memorized every bump and crack. when you settle into the table, trays between you, he offers you a smile that makes your chest flutter.

he had just said something about the dreams he still holds close. not about school this time—he'd already spoken about that. this time, it’s about music.

"i always wanted to learn to play piano," he says, a hint of longing in his smile, eyes cast toward the distance like he’s tracing the path of some long-lost melody only he can hear. "not for anyone else. just for me. i used to watch performances online, lying in bed during those longer stays here... sometimes i imagined myself on stage, not performing, but simply... feeling the keys beneath my fingers."

you listen closely, soaking in his words. this boy who speaks with a quiet bravery, who makes soft confessions like secrets pressed between the pages of a diary. you find yourself watching his face more than the view behind him. there’s something in the way his eyes carry a sadness too heavy for his age, but he still finds beauty in small dreams. you don’t interrupt. you can’t.

he looks back at you, and for a heartbeat, the world stills.

"thank you," he says. you blink.

"for what?"

"for making me feel a little more normal. for not treating me like i’m going to disappear. even if you think you are a bit too spoiled sometimes." a teasing smirk breaks through his gentleness.

you let out a huff, nudging his leg with your foot. "i’m not spoiled. i’m just... accustomed to comfort."

"exactly," he laughs. and it’s unfair, how that sound makes your chest feel lighter and heavier all at once. you could sit here forever. but reality has a way of reminding you that forever is not something promised.

there’s a moment, right after, when he checks the time on the corner wall clock. his face changes subtly—only slightly. you notice.

"i have to go," he says gently, the words a weight pressed between you both. "my mom’s waiting. she says i shouldn’t overdo it, especially now that i’m doing better."

you don’t respond right away. you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

he stands, folding the sketchbook in his arms. then his eyes linger on you. for a second, it feels like he wants to say something more. you do too. but nothing comes out.

"you’ll come back?" your voice is quiet, fragile in a way you hate.

he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that tries to be strong for both of you. "i promised, didn’t i? besides, someone has to keep you in check."

he leaves with that. and as the door closes, you realize how cold the room suddenly feels.

two weeks stretch like slow waves crashing gently on the shore. in his absence, your world softens into routine. your legs begin to respond better, the nerves slowly remembering movement, as if waking from a long and painful sleep. you begin therapy sessions with more intensity, though you still dread them. muscles cry in resistance, and every step with the crutches feels like dragging your past behind you.

some days, you use the crutches, stubborn and determined. other days, you sit in your wheelchair and sigh dramatically when seoyun comes to wheel you around, making her laugh.

"you’re just lazy," she says, half-chuckling, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

"i’m injured," you counter, pouting, batting your lashes as if that could explain away your unwillingness to walk.

"you’re a brat. a cute one, but still a brat."

you roll your eyes, but inside, the warmth of her teasing eases the bitterness of healing. she treats you like a person, not a patient. still, there are days when you break in private. when you cry after failed attempts to stand too long. when you curse your past self for the recklessness that led you here. on those days, the sketch jaehyun gave you remains on your bedside table, the penciled image of you beneath the large garden tree, peaceful and whole. you reach for it more than you’d admit, tracing the lines like a prayer.

you notice the flower on your wrist again. it has five petals now.

not even half.

what happens when it’s full?

what happens if it never finishes blooming?

what if he never comes back?

but even in your doubts, a quiet ember burns. because you know the truth now, even if you haven’t spoken it aloud.

he is the one you were meant to find.

days blurred together in muted hues of beige and soft grays, the hospital walls becoming your second skin, the scent of antiseptic laced with blooming jasmine from the garden etched into your senses. mornings were quieter now, the chatter of nurses distant as you sat by the window, legs wrapped in a thin blanket, hands resting atop the worn cover of a poetry book you hadn’t opened in days. your recovery was painfully slow, each day a war between your will and your fragile body. the physiotherapy sessions had begun, awkward and frustrating, with trembling knees and unsteady steps supported by the sterile clink of cold metal crutches. sometimes, they felt heavier than your own bones. sometimes, they felt like failure.

seoyun was endlessly patient. she joked about your dramatic sighs, your stubborn pouts, calling you “little madam” as she guided you through corridors or wheeled you into the garden when you simply refused to walk. you pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was, her kindness made the weight a little easier to bear. still, there were moments you broke. the frustration built like a storm, and when your knees buckled again and again during one of your morning trials, the tears came unbidden. you sat on the tiled floor, fists clenched and voice trembling as you muttered, “maybe i’ll never walk again. maybe i’m broken forever.”

you didn’t notice seoyun step back to make a quick call, didn’t hear her whispering softly by the doorway. your breath was uneven, chest tight, when soft footsteps approached.

“y/n,” a familiar voice said, low and careful.

you didn’t lift your head at first, not until his shadow knelt beside you.

“jaehyun,” you murmured, breath catching.

his eyes searched your face, his brows drawing together with quiet worry. “seoyun told me you had a rough morning.”

you swallowed hard, blinking fast as your voice came out brittle. “i’m tired. of trying and failing. of hoping.”

he sat beside you, not minding the sterile hospital floor, knees drawn up as he leaned forward slightly. “hope isn’t weakness,” he said after a moment. “it’s the bravest thing you can do, especially when everything hurts.”

you glanced at him, the vulnerability in your chest rising like a tide. he looked at you the way no one ever had before—like your pain wasn’t something shameful. like it mattered.

“you always say things like that,” you said quietly. “things that make me feel like… i’m not lost.”

he smiled, soft and sad. “maybe it’s because i’ve felt that way too. and it’s easier to believe for someone else.”

there was a beat of silence.

“you came back,” you said, not a question, just a truth you were still holding on to.

he nodded. “i told you i would.”

“but… why?” your voice cracked slightly. “why do you keep coming back?”

jaehyun exhaled, gaze dropping to his fingers curled together. when he looked up again, there was something raw and unguarded in his expression.

“because i can’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “because every time i leave, i end up thinking about you. wondering if you’ve smiled that day, if you’re okay. i come back because… you matter to me, more than i ever thought someone could.”

your breath hitched. your heart trembled inside your chest, and that burning sensation—familiar and searing—climbed up your left arm. you didn’t need to look. you knew. another petal. six now.

your eyes glistened, lips parting as if to speak, but words tangled in your throat.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, nervousness flickering in his voice. “i just… i needed you to know. even if it’s messy. even if it’s too soon.”

you reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his, and your hand stayed there, resting against his knuckles. “i don’t know what this is yet,” you whispered. “but when you’re not here, it’s like something’s missing. i think about you, too. more than i should.”

his smile was quiet, full of unsaid things.

you leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you sitting on that cold hospital floor as if it were the safest place in the world. no one disturbed you. the moment stretched, breathing on its own, warm and fragile.

after some time, he gently helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist as you steadied yourself on your crutches. he didn’t rush you. he didn’t speak. he just walked beside you, step by slow step, like he was learning your pace and choosing to match it.

and somehow, that made everything feel a little less impossible.

the days that followed brought a mixture of progress and discomfort. your legs had started to regain more strength, slowly but surely. you were now learning how to move with crutches, though they still felt like a betrayal of your independence. some mornings you pushed through with determined stubbornness, managing to walk short distances, while others you gave up halfway, throwing yourself into the wheelchair with an annoyed huff, your pride dented but intact. seoyun would only chuckle at your dramatic outbursts, calling you her “spoiled little princess,” gently scolding you as she handed you snacks or pushed you down the hallway like a child refusing to walk. the truth was, your frustration ran deeper than just physical weakness — it was a constant war between the life you used to have and the one you were learning to accept.

one afternoon, your parents mentioned that a few of your university classmates were coming to visit. you didn’t want to see them — you weren’t ready. but they were already on their way, and it felt wrong to refuse. so you sat there, stiff and uncomfortable in your hospital bed, as familiar faces entered your room. they smiled politely, voices gentle, eyes filled with pity they tried to disguise. their words were kind, their concern clearly rehearsed. you nodded along, offering vague answers, not wanting to seem cold. but inside, you felt nothing. not joy, not connection — only a strange emptiness. when they left, you exhaled so deeply it felt like the air had been stuck in your lungs for hours.

not long after, jaehyun showed up.

he had a routine checkup that day and stopped by your room as soon as he finished. the moment you saw him, something inside you softened — like finally breathing after holding your breath for too long.

“heard you had visitors,” he said, pulling a chair close to your bed.

you nodded, eyes on your lap. “some classmates. it was... weird.”

“weird how?”

you shrugged. “forced. fake. i don’t know. they were smiling too much.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t judge. instead, he tilted his head, watching you with that calm gaze of his — the one that always made your walls tremble. “maybe they just didn’t know how to act. maybe they were really glad you’re alive, even if they didn’t know how to show it.”

you looked at him then, eyes narrowed. “you always give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“you never do,” he countered gently, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t like feeling pitied.”

“and i don’t think that’s what they meant to do.” his voice was soft, his words like warm water slowly soaking into dry soil. “not everyone knows how to deal with trauma — even when it’s not their own.”

you didn’t answer, but he could see you thinking about it. you wanted to believe him. maybe not for their sake, but for yours. maybe believing in something softer would hurt less than all that bitterness pressing against your ribs.

he leaned back in the chair, arms stretching behind his head. “you looked like a grumpy kitten just now.”

“i did not.”

“you so did.”

you glared at him, cheeks puffed with indignation. “you’re so annoying.”

“but you like me anyway,” he teased, reaching out to lightly pinch your cheek. “come on, admit it.”

“no.”

he chuckled and leaned closer. you hadn’t noticed how near he’d gotten until you turned your head — and suddenly, your faces were only inches apart. the laughter in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something that made your heart stumble in your chest. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, then down again, slower this time. the space between you shrank like the air itself was pulling you toward him.

you didn’t move. neither did he. the world felt still, like time itself was watching.

his lips barely parted. “can i...?”

but before he could finish, a knock on the door sliced through the tension.

you both jerked away from each other, heat flooding your cheeks. the door creaked open and seoyun peeked in, one brow raised. “jaehyun, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for y/n’s therapy session.”

jaehyun cleared his throat, standing up too quickly. “right. of course.”

you avoided his eyes, grabbing your crutches like they might anchor you in place. your entire body felt like it was buzzing with something unfinished.

as seoyun guided you through the hall, she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“what was that?” she asked playfully.

“nothing,” you muttered, a little too fast, face still burning.

she raised an eyebrow. “mmhmm. nothing. sure.”

“seoyun.”

“fine, fine,” she laughed. “i’ll be back later... lovebirds.”

you glared at her retreating figure, but you couldn’t stop the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. not even the dread of your session could erase it completely. something had shifted. something unspoken. and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it pulsed beneath your skin like the quiet burn of your soulmate mark — now with six petals blooming around its center.

and though no words had been said, something had been felt.

something real.

the therapy room was quiet when you entered, the kind of hush that wraps itself around your bones and makes everything inside you feel more exposed. it smelled faintly of lavender and paper, and the lights were soft, as if trying not to disturb the fragility of your thoughts.

you sat on the couch, your crutches resting beside you like tired limbs. the psychiatrist — a woman with kind, steady eyes — offered you a warm smile, her pen poised loosely between her fingers.

“how are you feeling today?”

you hesitated. your throat felt tight. “i’m not sure,” you admitted. “it’s been… confusing.”

she nodded, as if she already understood. “want to talk about it?”

you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting nervously in your lap. “there’s this boy. jaehyun. he’s—” your voice cracked softly, and you sighed. “he’s not just anyone. i didn’t even know him before the accident. we met after. but somehow, he’s become... everything.”

“everything?” she asked gently.

you nodded, your chest tightening with the weight of your own confession. “i feel like i’m losing control. every time he’s near, i get this—this burn on my wrist, like fire licking at my skin, and i know it’s tied to the soulmate symbol. it started as one petal. now it’s six.”

the therapist’s eyes flicked to your wrist, where the mark now bloomed like a half-open flower, soft and glowing faintly beneath your hospital bracelet.

“and how does that make you feel?”

“scared,” you whispered. “because it’s not just the symbol. it’s him. the way he makes me laugh when i don’t want to. how he looks at me like i’m more than my injuries, like i’m still whole. i never believed in soulmates. i thought it was just… poetic bullshit. but now…”

“now you want it to be real?”

you looked up, your voice a soft plead. “i need it to be real. because i think i—i think i’m falling for him. and i need to know if this thing between us is fate... or just my heart clinging to the first person who didn’t look at me with pity.”

the therapist leaned forward slightly. “have you talked to him about it?”

you shook your head, lips trembling. “i don’t even know how. i feel like every time we get close to saying something real, the world interrupts us. and if i ask too soon… what if it’s only me? what if i’m wrong?”

the session continued for a while longer, but your mind remained tangled in that single question — was this love written in the stars, or simply desperation dressed in hope?

afterward, as you returned to your room, the thoughts clung to you like fog. you sat on the edge of your bed, glancing at the door, half-expecting jaehyun to walk in like he always did. but today, he didn’t. and maybe that absence made the ache sharper.

you let your head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and let yourself feel it — all of it.

you remembered the first time you saw him. not when you met him, not when you first heard his name — but the first time. that rainy afternoon in the hallway, when you were still adjusting to the weight of your healing body and he was just a stranger. he was leaning against the wall, earbuds in, hood up, eyes distant. you’d only glanced at him, but something pulled at you. something quiet. you didn’t even know his name then, but he had this presence — like gravity, soft but undeniable.

and then you did get to know him.

his voice — low, warm, always careful with its edges. his hands — long-fingered and expressive, always finding ways to help you without making it feel like charity. the way his laughter wasn’t loud, but it stayed in the room like sunlight. the way he listened. really listened.

and his face — god, his face. dark eyes with a hint of melancholy, as if he’d seen too much but still chose softness. lips that moved with intention, like every word mattered. that little mole beneath his eye, the curve of his jaw when he smiled, the way his hair would fall into his eyes and he’d shake it away without thinking. and when he looked at you? it felt like being seen for the first time.

he made you feel safe. not the kind of safety that came from locked doors or quiet rooms, but the kind that wrapped around your soul — safety from yourself, from the guilt, from the fear of never being whole again.

you touched your wrist absently, fingers brushing over the six soft petals of the flower. you didn’t know what would happen when it bloomed completely. would it mean certainty? would it mean forever?

“do you believe in soulmates?” you had asked him once, weeks ago, in a fleeting moment when neither of you were quite ready to be honest.

he had shrugged back then. “i think... i believe in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.”

you hadn’t said anything at the time. you’d just nodded. but now, those words felt like a quiet promise. a foreshadowing.

you curled up on your side, wrapping your arms around your pillow, heart aching with unspoken truths. because you did believe now. or maybe you just wanted to believe. and that difference — that thin, trembling line — was what kept you up at night.

if he came back tomorrow, if he looked at you again like he did before the almost-kiss…

would you have the courage to ask him again?

and would he finally tell you what you were too afraid to say?

it was the middle of the afternoon when jaehyun returned. you hadn’t expected him — the last time you spoke, he mentioned his mother had scheduled more tests in another hospital, and he’d be gone a while. but there he was, standing in the doorway of your room, holding a plastic bag with canned coffee and a half-smile that faltered the moment your eyes met.

you were seated by the window, your legs propped up, crutches leaning against the wall, the pale sunlight catching on the blooming symbol at your wrist. seven petals now. soft, radiant, like delicate fire.

“you came back,” you whispered, too stunned to stand.

jaehyun nodded, stepping inside slowly, almost as if afraid he might disappear if he moved too quickly. “i missed this place,” he said, setting the coffee on the small table beside you, but his eyes were only on you. “i missed you.”

you swallowed, trying to calm the whirlwind inside you. the past few days had been suffocating. the therapy, the visits, the frustration of trying to move on legs that still betrayed you — but more than anything, the ache of not seeing him.

you reached out, wrapping your fingers around your wrist, heart pounding. “there’s something i need to tell you.”

his expression shifted immediately. concern flashed behind his eyes, and he crouched in front of you, resting one hand lightly on your knee. “what’s wrong?”

you looked down, voice trembling. “it’s about this.” you turned your wrist toward him, exposing the flower that had now grown fuller, more defined. the glow of it shimmered faintly in the sunlight. “do you know what this means?”

he stared at it, brow furrowed. “i… i know it’s the soulmate mark. but i’ve never seen one like that.”

you nodded, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “it appears petal by petal. for most people, their soulmate can’t see it. they just feel it. the warmth, the burn. but jaehyun…” you inhaled shakily. “you’ve seen it. you’ve always seen it.”

he didn’t speak. his lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

“i thought maybe i was imagining it. but you see it. and it only blooms when you’re near. not when seoyun’s around. not my parents. not even when the therapist asked about it. only you.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “i had this dream, back when i was still in and out of consciousness after the crash. i saw this red thread tied around my wrist. it stretched endlessly, through cities, skies, time... and at the end of it was you.”

his breath caught.

“i know it sounds crazy, but… that red thread they talk about, the one that connects soulmates, it’s real. and i’ve felt it pulling me toward you since the moment i saw you laughing in the hallway. i didn’t even know your name, but my heart knew. my soul knew.”

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“you asked me once if i believed in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.” your voice softened into something raw and tender. “i think we were always meant to meet. even in this hospital, even through all this pain. maybe fate isn’t perfect, but it’s persistent. and it brought me you.”

jaehyun’s cheeks flushed with color, his eyes wet and glassy. “i don’t… i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything.” you cupped his cheek with your free hand, brushing your thumb across his skin. “just feel it.”

he leaned into your touch, slowly, as if absorbing every drop of your warmth. “when you weren’t here, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. i didn’t realize how much you’d become a part of me until you weren’t within reach. i thought maybe… maybe i was being selfish. coming here all the time, waiting to see you smile, hoping you’d lean on me.”

“you weren’t being selfish,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “you were just following the thread.”

he laughed softly, the sound shaky and full of wonder. “then i guess i’ll follow it for as long as it leads me to you.”

your heart ached in the best possible way, swollen with something deeper than joy. his forehead leaned gently against yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath on your lips. neither of you kissed — not yet — but something passed between you, weightless and electric.

outside the window, the trees swayed in slow rhythm. inside, time stood still.

and on your wrist, the eighth petal began to bloom.

the hospital was quiet that night. the kind of quiet that didn’t feel hollow, but sacred—like the world had paused for just the two of you. seoyun had long since gone home after giving you one last teasing smile about how suspiciously often jaehyun had been around lately, and the nurses gave their soft goodnights as they dimmed the hallway lights.

jaehyun sat beside your bed, legs curled under him, his head resting on his hand as he watched you fiddle with the blanket wrapped around your waist. you'd begged him to sneak out with you to the garden, but your legs had been trembling all day, and he refused to let you strain yourself. still, he stayed. he always stayed.

you reached for the window, tugging it open with effort. the night breeze brushed against your skin like a whispered promise. jaehyun turned toward the air and closed his eyes, letting the wind rustle his hair. he looked so peaceful, like something out of a dream.

“you ever wonder,” you murmured, “if the stars are watching us back?”

he opened his eyes, slow and soft. “maybe. or maybe they’re jealous.”

you glanced at him, amused. “jealous of what?”

“of us,” he said simply. “of the fact that we found each other.”

your heart stuttered.

“jaehyun…”

he stood then, gently tugging you upright. your legs wobbled, but he was there in an instant, holding your arms steady, lowering you into the wheelchair you now only used when exhaustion crept in too quickly. his hands on you were always so careful. like you were made of something precious and fragile.

together, you rolled out into the hallway, past the night nurse who gave a silent nod of approval, and down to the garden. the moon was full tonight, bathing everything in silver. the tree where you’d first sat together was swaying gently, leaves whispering secrets.

jaehyun helped you onto the bench, then sat beside you, closer this time. there was something in the air. a pull.

and then you saw it.

glowing faintly in the moonlight.

a thread.

thin. red. pulsing like a heartbeat.

stretching from his wrist… to yours.

your breath caught. you lifted your arm slowly, and jaehyun mirrored you. eyes wide, lips parted, as he stared at the connection between you. it wasn’t metaphorical anymore. it was real. living.

“you see it,” you whispered.

his voice trembled. “i see it.”

tears welled up in your eyes, your hand trembling as you reached for him. his fingers met yours halfway, lacing with instinctive ease. you turned to him, face flushed, the gravity between you now undeniable.

“jaehyun,” you breathed. “do you remember what you said? about wanting to know what it’s like to be loved like in stories?”

his throat bobbed as he nodded.

you leaned in, your voice no more than a quiver. “this is that story.”

he cupped your cheek, so tenderly, so reverently it made your heart splinter and swell all at once. he looked at you like you were everything he ever wanted to hold.

“can i?” he asked, voice trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

you nodded, barely.

and then, slowly, softly, jaehyun kissed you.

it was shy at first—his lips tentative against yours, unsure, gentle, as if he was afraid to get it wrong. but when your hand slid to the back of his neck and your fingers curled into his hair, he sighed against you, a breathless, stunned sound, and kissed you again. deeper. fuller.

your first kiss with him tasted like everything you'd longed for but never knew you needed. and his first kiss with you… felt like the beginning of something holy.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads still touching, you noticed something glowing brighter than the thread—

the ninth petal.

you smiled through your tears. “i love you.”

jaehyun was still breathless, lips swollen, cheeks red.

and then he whispered, almost as if he was afraid to say it too loudly and shatter the moment:

“i think… i always have.”

everything after the kiss felt like walking on clouds. no—floating. jaehyun’s fingers laced with yours whenever seoyun wasn’t watching. he’d whisper things in your ear just to see you blush, and your smiles bloomed like flowers every time he called you his one and only.

“you’re mine,” he’d whisper while pushing your wheelchair down the garden path. “the universe made you for me. i'm not letting you go.”

his words weren’t just sweet—they were convincing, like vows whispered into existence, like every syllable was a thread woven into the invisible red string that bound your souls. seoyun would narrow her eyes, lips twitching, clearly suspicious, but you only giggled, clutching his hand tighter, savoring the delicious secrecy of it all. jaehyun was yours. your soulmate. your only one. your forever.

but nothing ever stays perfect. not when fate is involved.

it happened in the middle of one of your usual walks. the air was warm, the breeze soft, and jaehyun was humming something under his breath as he gently guided your chair. he’d just leaned down to murmur something teasing in your ear—something about your hair looking extra shiny today—when his voice broke.

you turned around just in time to see his knees buckle.

“jaehyun?”

his eyes rolled back. his body crumpled to the ground.

“jaehyun!”

panic exploded in your chest as nurses came running. one of them had already seen him fall and radioed for assistance. he was lifted onto a stretcher with swift, trained hands. you watched in frozen horror as they rushed him back into the building, his pale face slack, his name tumbling from your lips like a broken prayer.

you couldn't move. your legs trembled even as you tried to stand, gripping the sides of your chair. seoyun came running, helped you back down, whispering reassurances you couldn’t hear past the roaring in your ears.

“he's okay,” she said. “he’s okay, y/n. he just fainted, okay? we’ll find out what happened.”

but it wasn’t just a faint. not when they wheeled him straight into cardiac observation.

you found out later that night, sitting in the hallway outside the ICU. his mother arrived in a rush—elegant, though her eyes were swollen, the same warmth as jaehyun’s but dulled with worry. she told the doctors she'd already noticed signs of arrhythmia through his at-home monitor. jaehyun, stubborn as ever, had begged her not to bring him back. he said he felt fine.

you wanted to scream.

instead, you stared at the door to his room, knuckles white on your crutches. you'd stopped using the wheelchair, trying your best to follow your physiotherapist’s advice. your legs wobbled, but they worked. he even suggested a cane for short distances. you scoffed, saying you'd rather die than look like an old woman. jaehyun would have laughed at that.

but he wasn’t laughing now.

the next morning, you visited him. the roles had reversed—you were the one pushing open the hospital room door now. he was lying there, propped up against pillows, an IV snaking into his arm, ECG leads taped across his chest. his eyes lit up the moment they saw you, but the shine didn’t reach the dark circles beneath them.

“you look good,” he said, voice scratchy. “better on your feet.”

“you look like hell,” you replied, hobbling toward his bed.

“missed you too.”

he tried to smile. you tried not to cry.

later, when the nurse stepped out and you were both alone, you sat beside his bed and reached for his hand. his fingers were cold. his grip was weaker than usual.

jaehyun looked up at the ceiling, the sterile white lights reflecting in his glassy eyes.

“i’m tired, y/n.”

his voice wasn’t small—it was hollow.

“i’m tired of this... this place. this body. i never asked for this. i didn’t want to grow up memorizing the colors of hospital ceilings. i didn’t want to learn the names of heart medications before i knew what real love felt like.”

you didn’t speak. the lump in your throat was too thick.

“i watch people walk around outside and i wonder how it must feel to wake up and not worry if today’s the day your heart just... stops.”

he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept falling—silent, steady, as if they’d been waiting years to fall.

“i wanted to go to school like everyone else. have friends. travel. fall in love without worrying if i’ll still be here next month. now i have you and all i can think is, what if it’s too late?”

your hand curled tighter around his.

“it’s not,” you whispered.

he didn’t answer.

the door opened again. his doctor stepped inside, face unreadable, holding a chart.

“jaehyun,” he said gently, “we’re going to run some more scans. the arrhythmia needs monitoring. we’ll need to keep you here for a few more days, but we’ll take it one step at a time, alright?”

jaehyun didn’t respond. just nodded, barely. his gaze stayed locked on yours.

and even though he was the one with the failing heart—you were the one who felt like yours was breaking.

the garden was quiet that afternoon. clouds hung low over the sky like they, too, had something to mourn. you sat beneath the same tree you used to visit with jaehyun, but now the breeze felt colder, and the laughter that had once lingered here was gone.

your crutches rested against the stone bench. your legs were sore, trembling slightly from walking more than you should have, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

you hated this.

hated that he was back in a hospital bed. hated that he had to smile through his pain. hated that he said he was tired, and you knew he didn’t just mean physically.

you clutched your chest, fingers pressing over the soft fabric of your hoodie where your soulmark bloomed quietly underneath. seven petals now. only one left.

and still... he was sick.

what if the thread of fate was cruel? what if it was meant to show you who you'd lose, not who you'd keep?

tears spilled silently down your cheeks. you covered your face with your hands, biting your lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

“please,” you whispered to no one. “please don’t take him away from me.”

the sky didn’t answer. only the leaves rustling above.

the next day, you returned to his room. he was sitting up again, looking better, at least on the outside. his mom had gone home for a bit, and the nurses were switching shifts. it was just the two of you, like it had always been.

you stood at the door for a moment, crutches supporting you, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he looked up. his eyes widened.

“you’re walking again?”

“hobbling,” you corrected, forcing a smile.

jaehyun grinned, and for a second, it was easy to forget. easy to pretend he wasn’t hooked up to machines, that there wasn’t a chart by his bed filled with words like arrhythmia and risk assessment.

you limped to his bedside. he reached out for your hand before you could even sit.

“you came back,” he whispered.

“i’ll always come back,” you said.

he opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it—tugging up your sleeve and showing him your wrist.

the flower.

seven petals, glowing faintly.

his eyes widened.

“it’s almost complete,” you said, voice shaking with something too big for words. “just one more. and then... maybe then we’ll be safe.”

“safe?”

“you and me. i don’t know, i just... i think once it’s full, something will change. maybe you’ll get better. maybe the universe will give us a break. i feel it, jaehyun. we’re supposed to be together. for always.”

his hand shook as he reached out to brush his thumb over your soulmark.

“i don’t deserve you.”

“you’re the only one who ever could.”

you leaned in, cupped his face.

“you’re mine.”

and you kissed him.

not with desperation, but with certainty.

his lips were soft, still unfamiliar, but yours moved like they’d known each other forever. his hand slipped to your waist, and you climbed carefully onto the bed, settling beside him with your head against his shoulder, your bodies curled into each other like puzzle pieces that had finally clicked into place.

neither of you spoke. there was no need.

you just were.

together.

you stayed like that until a nurse knocked gently and warned you to be careful. you both scrambled like kids caught sneaking out, faces flushed, laughter caught in your throats.

but the laughter faded the next morning when the results came in.

his doctor walked in with a different expression this time—one that made your stomach twist.

“we need to run additional diagnostics,” he said calmly. “his heart rhythm is more irregular than expected. we’ll conduct a cardiac MRI, possibly a stress test. there are signs that we may be dealing with something beyond arrhythmia.”

you stopped breathing.

jaehyun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t react beyond a quiet nod. he didn’t want you to worry.

but you did.

the next day, you brought lunch to his room. he wasn’t hungry, not really, but he took a few bites of the rice and soup anyway. he didn’t want to talk about the test. neither did you.

so instead, you talked about everything else.

“do you remember the day we met?” he asked softly.

“i thought you were so beautiful. even back then. even when you looked like you wanted to kill me.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder again, your fingers tracing idle shapes on the blanket.

“you were so kind,” you whispered. “i didn’t expect someone like you to be real. and then you kept coming back, and i didn’t know what to do with all that... goodness.”

he turned his head, eyes soft.

“you don’t have to do anything with it. just take it.”

you looked up at him.

“can i kiss you again?”

he blushed, but nodded.

you didn’t wait.

you kissed him like you wanted to breathe him in. kissed him because everything about him was hope and light and love. kissed him because if tomorrow was cruel, you needed to give him all the softness today could offer.

his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“don’t leave,” he murmured into your hair.

“never,” you said. “you’re stuck with me. forever.”

you didn’t know what the tests would say.

you had left the hospital three days ago, not the way you once imagined you would. no victorious music playing in your head, no dramatic moment of running through the halls with a discharge paper in hand. no. instead, your steps were slow, accompanied by the steady rhythm of your crutches and the soft click of the cane—an item you had stubbornly refused at first, claiming it made you look like an old woman. but in the end, your physiotherapist convinced you it was the next step, a temporary aid, not a defeat.

seoyun had packed your things while humming lightly, her words gentle, her smile warm. she promised to visit often, to check in and make sure you were still behaving like the little diva she’d grown fond of. your parents were there too, proud but cautiously optimistic, helping you settle into the car with pillows behind your back, like you were made of glass. everything outside the hospital felt too bright, too loud. the city buzzed as if nothing had happened, as if your world hadn’t turned upside down.

the first two nights at home were quiet. too quiet. the silence pressed against your chest in a way the heart monitor never did. you missed the soft beeps, the nurses’ laughter down the hall, the smell of sterilized linens… but more than anything, you missed him.

jaehyun.

so on the third morning, you asked the driver to take you back. you dressed carefully, picking a soft sweater he once said he liked, something warm but not too heavy. you held a small bouquet in your hands—flowers that resembled the ones on your wrist, delicate and soft, as if plucked from that imaginary garden your souls seemed to share.

your legs were stronger now, but they still shook sometimes. the stairs at your house were your enemies, and you avoided them like the plague. but today, walking down the hospital corridor again with your cane and crutch tucked beneath each arm, you felt determined. the familiar scent of antiseptic didn’t scare you anymore. this place had become a part of you.

you found jaehyun in his room, sitting by the window, legs folded, sketchbook untouched in his lap. he looked up when the door creaked, and the second he saw you, his entire face changed. the tiredness didn’t disappear, but something warmer surfaced beneath it—something like relief, or maybe love.

“you’re here,” he said softly, as if afraid his voice would shatter the moment.

“of course i am,” you replied, stepping inside with slow care. “did you think i’d abandon you now?”

he laughed weakly, but the sound faded too quickly. you moved closer and placed the bouquet on the side table. he didn’t reach for them. he just kept looking at you.

“you look good,” he murmured.

“and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

he tilted his head with a small smile. “i haven’t.”

“why?”

“dreams,” he said vaguely. “memories. fear. take your pick.”

you sighed and took a seat beside him on the bed, adjusting your position with a tiny wince when your knee clicked. he noticed, but said nothing.

“i thought maybe… i could cheer you up a little.” you pushed the bouquet closer to him. “i got these for you.”

he finally looked at them, really looked, and his hand brushed over the petals with the same reverence he once showed your drawing. “they look like your flower.”

you nodded, glancing down at your wrist. the mark was almost complete. just one more petal.

“i thought they’d remind you of what’s waiting for you,” you said gently. “what we have. what we can still build together.”

his eyes turned glassy. his lips parted but no sound came. instead, he reached for your hand. his fingers trembled as they found yours.

“i’m sorry i scared you the other day,” he whispered.

“don’t apologize. you didn’t ask to collapse.”

“i should’ve told someone i wasn’t feeling well. i didn’t want to worry you. i just… i felt so happy. i forgot for a second that i’m not like everyone else.”

you leaned in, your hand reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear. “you are like everyone else, jaehyun. you just happen to have a heart that’s a little more stubborn.”

he chuckled, then fell quiet again. the silence stretched between you, but not uncomfortably.

“i hate this,” he said suddenly. “i hate being here again. i hate the machines, the blood draws, the looks on people’s faces like they’re waiting for something awful to happen.”

you tightened your grip on his hand. “i know. but you’re not alone this time.”

he looked at you then, and his eyes were full of everything—grief, fear, longing, and something fierce. something brave. “i know,” he repeated, and for the first time that day, it sounded like he believed it.

you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. slowly, carefully, you shifted onto the bed, curling beside him like you had done once before, only this time you didn’t feel like the fragile one. your head rested against his shoulder, your legs tangled slightly, and his arms came around you, warm and steady. you stayed like that for a long time, both of you silent, watching the clock hands move as if they mattered.

“we’re going to be okay,” you whispered.

“yeah,” he said softly. “we will.”

but neither of you knew the results were arriving the next day.

and they wouldn’t be good.

the hallway outside jaehyun’s room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something warmer—like the remnants of someone’s coffee left to go cold. the light filtering through the blinds was soft, but it couldn’t soften the conversation taking place just beyond the threshold of the door.

his mother stood beside the doctor, hands clenched in front of her, knuckles pale against the beige of her coat sleeves. her voice trembled as she tried to keep herself together, the way she always did—strong for her son, for the world.

“how is this possible?” she asked, voice thin and breaking. “he was discharged with a good prognosis. you said he was stable. he’s been taking his medication, doing everything right…”

the doctor sighed, his expression apologetic, brows drawn together in weary resignation. “we ran a full cardiac panel and imaging. the arrhythmia has worsened significantly. his left ventricular function is dropping. it could be the result of an undetected progressive cardiomyopathy. this wasn’t visible on the last scan… but it’s advancing fast.”

her lips parted in disbelief, but no sound came. just silence, thick and suffocating. she shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “are you saying my son… might not…”

“we’re not there yet,” the doctor said carefully. “but we need to prepare. we’ll begin new treatments, increase monitoring. he’ll stay here under close observation. we need to reevaluate the transplant list... and time is critical.”

inside the room, jaehyun lay still in his bed, staring out the window with wide, quiet eyes. the sunlight painted soft gold against the pale blue of the curtains, but it didn’t reach him.

he could hear every word.

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. just let the noise blur into a low hum.

his heartbeat was too loud.

but not in the way he once loved when he was with you.

his fingers rested over the edge of his blanket, curling slightly as the doctor’s voice echoed again in his head—time is critical.

he closed his eyes, willing it all away, imagining the sound of your laughter instead, the soft scolding tone in your voice when you told him to stop being cocky, the way your eyes sparkled when you teased him.

you.

his mind searched for you instinctively, like a compass spinning toward home.

he pictured you standing by the edge of the garden in that hospital gown you hated, grumbling about your cane, rolling your eyes but letting him help you anyway. he remembered how your face looked when you smiled at him the day of your first kiss—like he was the only person in the world.

you’re like a vitamin, he thought. no… more than that.

you were air.

the reason he could breathe in moments like this.

his throat tightened. he turned his head away from the door, pretending he didn’t hear his mother’s soft sob outside, didn’t notice the way the doctor’s voice grew quieter in a vain attempt to protect him from the truth.

but the truth had already arrived.

and it sat heavy in his chest, aching, thudding unevenly.

he wasn’t afraid of dying.

but the thought of leaving you behind?

of not seeing your flower bloom to its final petal? of never getting to draw you again, touch your cheek, press his lips to yours under skies of warmth and belonging?

that was the kind of fear that broke him.

and in that moment, he felt like a boy again.

small.

helpless.

but still in love. so hopelessly in love with you, it hurt more than the failing beat of his own heart.

the garden was a quiet refuge, a small patch of life bursting through the cold sterility of the hospital walls. you had slipped away from the buzz of the ward, leaning heavily on your crutches as you made your way beneath the towering old tree. the branches swayed gently above you, leaves whispering with the breeze, as if carrying some secret message only the two of you could understand. you settled onto the worn wooden bench, your body trembling from the effort of moving, but your heart heavier for different reasons. the exhaustion of the day, the weight of your uncertain future, and the ache of missing jaehyun’s presence all pressed down on you.

you wiped at your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway—slow, quiet, a release you desperately needed. you hated feeling vulnerable like this, hated how fragile you suddenly were, but it was the truth you had to face. you were still fragile, still broken in so many ways.

inside the hospital, jaehyun lay in his room, the sterile white walls closing in around him like a cage. he stared out the window, watching the leaves move in rhythm with the wind. his heart was heavy, but his thoughts drifted to you — to your smile, to the way you moved, even on your bad days. you were a light in the darkness, a reason to hold on when everything felt so bleak. he clutched the thin hospital blanket closer, as if it could somehow shield him from the fear that clawed at his chest.

he whispered your name into the silence, a prayer, a promise, a plea. “y/n...” the word caught in his throat, fragile as a breath.

you glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. “how do you... keep going? when it’s so hard?”

“because i have a reason. you.” his hand brushed yours lightly, a touch full of unspoken promises. “you’re my reason.”

your breath caught, and tears threatened to fall again. “but what if—”

“don’t say it,” jaehyun interrupted gently, lifting your chin so your eyes met. “we don’t have to face what-ifs now. we have today. and today, we fight. together.”

you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. the doctors had warned of the risks, the uncertainty. every test, every result, was a new mountain to climb. but in that moment, beneath the ancient tree, you allowed yourself to believe in something more — in hope, in the strength of the connection that bound you and jaehyun.

you thought of the flower on your wrist, the petals blooming slowly, a symbol of the bond that neither of you could explain but both felt deeply. it was nearly complete — five delicate petals circling the center, each one a promise, a sign that you were meant to find each other, to fight together.

“maybe,” you whispered to the wind, “maybe that last petal will bloom when we’re ready... when we’ve made it through.”

back in his room, jaehyun’s eyes glistened with tears as he imagined your words. he reached out toward the window, as if he could touch you through the glass, feel your warmth. “i’ll be here, y/n,” he promised quietly. “i’ll fight to be with you. no matter what.”

neither of you could say what the future held — only that you had each other. and sometimes, that was enough to carry you through the darkest days.

the days passed with a quiet weight, each one slower than the last, carrying a heaviness that settled deep in your chest. jaehyun was still there, still fighting, but the change was undeniable. the sharp outline of his face grew thinner, his once steady hands now trembling even at rest. some mornings, he couldn’t summon the strength to sit up, his body surrendering to exhaustion long before the sun had risen.

you were always by his side — sometimes holding his hand, sometimes just sitting quietly, the silence between you filled with unspoken worries. you tried to be his rock, but behind closed doors, when no one was watching, the tears came. you cried softly in the bathroom, wiping your cheeks before returning, forcing a smile that felt like breaking glass beneath the surface.

“jaehyun,” you whispered one afternoon, your voice barely audible, “you’re stronger than this. you have to be.”

he gave you a faint, tired smile, eyes heavy but warm. “i wish i could be,” he said, voice rough. “but some days... some days my body just won’t listen.”

your heart clenched, but you reached for his hand, holding it gently as if to anchor him in this fading moment. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

he squeezed your fingers weakly, a silent promise.

a few days ago, you had noticed the flower on your wrist had finally blossomed completely — all six petals glowing softly beneath your skin. it should have been a moment of joy, a sign that maybe fate had smiled on you both. but you kept it to yourself, afraid it might feel like a goodbye, a closing chapter neither of you was ready to face.

“why don’t you tell me about it?” jaehyun asked one evening, catching the hesitance in your gaze.

you hesitated, heart aching. “because... i’m scared it means something. that it’s a sign of an ending.”

he shook his head slowly, exhaustion dimming his spark. “then let’s make it a sign of a beginning. of hope.”

his words should have comforted you, but all you could feel was the tightening grip of fear.

nights were the hardest. you stayed by his bedside, watching his shallow breaths, the way his body trembled under the thin hospital blanket. you wanted to scream, to shake the unfairness of it all — but instead, you whispered soft prayers into the dark, fingers tracing the invisible red thread you both shared.

“jaehyun,” you said quietly one morning, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, “no matter what happens, you’re the most important thing in my life.”

he opened his eyes, searching yours with a fragile clarity. “and you’re mine.”

there was so much love wrapped in those words, but beneath it was a looming shadow neither dared to name.

sometimes, when you thought he was asleep, you caught him staring at the ceiling, lips moving silently as if holding on to memories, to dreams, to you.

the hospital walls closed in around you both — a cage of uncertainty and fragile hope. but still, you clung to each other, to the small moments of laughter, the whispered confessions, the gentle touches that said, without words, “i’m here.”

and you prayed, over and over, that this thread tying your souls together would be strong enough to hold you through the storm.

the day had been quiet when you arrived at the hospital, your steps slow but steady on your cane, clutching the small bouquet of flowers — fragile, like the hope you tried to hold onto. the door to jaehyun’s room was slightly ajar, but as you pushed it open, your heart shattered instantly: the room was empty. panic flared in your chest. before you could even process, the sharp clang of wheels echoed down the hall. two camilleros rushed past, pushing jaehyun’s bed swiftly down the corridor. his pale face was barely visible, eyes closed, tubes tangled around him, machines beeping wildly.

“jaehyun!” you screamed, your voice raw and desperate, echoing through the sterile hallways. “jaehyun, wait!” your crutches clattered as you tried to follow, heart pounding violently against your ribs.

nurses and doctors shouted, their voices frantic. “code blue, code blue! prepare the resuscitation room!” you could hear the fear, the urgency. your world narrowed down to just him — the only thing that ever mattered.

a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, and you were stopped mid-step. seoyun’s face was pale, her eyes glistening with tears but filled with a calm you didn’t feel. “y/n, please. you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can,” she said softly, but her voice trembled.

another nurse gently held your other arm, grounding you. you struggled, wanting to break free, to run, to be with him. “he’s not—he can’t—” your voice cracked, tears streaming uncontrollably now, your sobs wracking your body. “he has to be okay. he has to be!”

they held you firmly as you screamed his name, your heart fracturing with every step the camilla disappeared down the corridor. voices faded into a blur, your mind caught in a storm of memories — every smile, every whispered “i love you,” every moment when his hand fit perfectly in yours.

you remembered the quiet mornings in his hospital room, the way he used to brush your hair back tenderly, the secret smiles shared over silly jokes, the soft confessions in the dark, the warmth of his embrace that made the cold sterile walls feel like home.

“why?” you sobbed to the empty hallway, clutching your chest as if you could hold your broken heart together. “why does everything I love have to be taken away?”

minutes felt like hours as you sat in the stark hospital waiting area, your hands trembling, clutching the wilted bouquet you had brought him. your tears had long since dried, but your heart hammered painfully in your chest, refusing to calm. the sterile silence was broken only by hurried footsteps and distant voices — all pulling you further into the unbearable waiting.

then, quietly but with a steady purpose, jaehyun’s mother appeared, her face pale but composed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and worry. she approached you slowly, her hands nervously twisting a delicate handkerchief. the two of you shared a look — a mix of unspoken grief and fragile hope.

after a long moment, a doctor came into view. his expression was gentle but heavy, the weight of what he was about to say pressing down on him. he paused, searching for the right words. “mrs. park... y/n...” he began softly, “we did everything possible. jaehyun fought so hard... but...”

his voice caught. jaehyun’s mother reached out, squeezing your hand with a tremble. “he didn’t make it,” the doctor finished quietly.

the words hung in the air like a cruel fog. you felt your breath catch, your body going numb. tears welled up again, threatening to spill. you wanted to scream, to fight, to deny this terrible truth — but there was no escaping it.

jaehyun’s mother leaned close, voice cracking, “he was so brave... and he loved you very much.”

you clung to those words even as your world shattered around you, the depth of your loss crashing in waves that stole your breath and left you broken.

the day was cloaked in a soft, relentless gray, the sky heavy as if it too mourned the loss it witnessed. the air was thick, almost tangible with sorrow, as you stood among the quiet crowd gathered beneath the somber canopy of trees. the gentle rustle of leaves whispered in the wind, a fragile soundtrack to the unbearable silence that wrapped around your chest like a vise.

jaehyun lay in his simple casket, pale and peaceful, a stark contrast to the vibrant life he once held. the flowers—white and delicate—circled the edges like a halo, and for a moment, you imagined he was just resting, that he would open his eyes and smile at you, as he always did, that same shy, warm smile that had once lit up every corner of your world.

but the cruel truth was there, undeniable and relentless. the distance between life and death stretched wide and cold, and no whispered prayer or desperate wish could close the gap.

you found yourself standing at the edge, trembling, unable to speak the words trapped deep inside your heart—words you’d rehearsed a thousand times but that now felt hopelessly inadequate. the words that should have been said, the love that should have been confessed, the promises that would now remain forever unfulfilled.

jaehyun had been your light in the darkest moments, your steady anchor when the world spun too fast. he was the quiet strength behind your smiles, the gentle hand that wiped away your tears, the voice that told you everything would be okay even when nothing seemed to be. and now, the silence he left behind was deafening.

you wished you could rewind time, hold him tighter, say everything you never dared to. tell him how he was more than just your soulmate—he was your best friend, your safe place, your heart’s quiet home. tell him you loved him in ways words could never capture, how every breath you took after meeting him was touched by the warmth of his presence.

but there was only this stillness now. a stillness that echoed with what could have been.

your tears fell freely as you traced invisible lines over the casket, a silent goodbye you could never fully voice. the weight of loss crushed you, a sorrow so vast it felt as though it would swallow you whole. you whispered his name into the wind, hoping it might carry your love to wherever he was now—hoping he could feel you even as you stood apart.

around you, faces blurred with shared grief, but none understood the depth of what you felt. how a part of your soul had gone with him, how the future you had dreamed of was now nothing but a fragile memory slipping through your fingers.

and yet, beneath the unbearable pain, a fragile seed of something else stirred—gratitude. for the moments you had. for the way he had shown you what it meant to truly care, to be seen, to be loved. for the light he had brought into your life, brief but brilliant.

you pressed your hand to your chest, where the red thread still curled softly beneath your skin—its petals incomplete but vibrant—a reminder that even in loss, some connections never truly break.

as the ceremony drew to a close and the earth embraced him gently, you stood there, broken but holding onto that sliver of hope, that maybe, somehow, in another time, another life, your souls would find each other again.

the cemetery was quiet, the world hushed as if it too was holding its breath for you. the cold wind brushed gently against your cheeks, but it was the weight in your chest that truly burned—a heaviness no words could lift. you stood before jaehyun’s grave, the simple stone etched with his name, a fragile marker of a life so painfully short.

your hands trembled as you reached out to touch the cool marble, tracing the letters that felt impossibly distant, yet heartbreakingly close. “jaehyun,” you whispered, voice breaking like a fragile thread, “i’m still here. i’m still holding on, even though every part of me wants to fall apart.”

tears spilled down your face, hot and relentless, carrying every ounce of love and sorrow you’d tried to hold inside. “i never got to tell you everything i wanted,” you said, “how much you meant to me... how you saved me when i thought i was lost... how your smile was the only light that ever made sense.” your breath hitched, the memories flooding in, both cruel and beautiful. “i’m so sorry i couldn’t save you. i’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”

you knelt by the grave, placing the last wilted petals from your bouquet on the earth, petals that mirrored the half-bloomed flower on your wrist — a symbol of the future you both dreamed of but never reached. “the red thread... it brought us together, didn’t it?” you whispered, voice barely audible, “i believe it. i believe we were meant to find each other, even if only for a little while.”

the wind picked up, as if carrying your words to him, and you closed your eyes, imagining his presence there—warm, gentle, just beyond the veil. “i’ll carry you with me,” you promised through your tears, “in every breath, every heartbeat. and maybe, someday, when this pain fades, we’ll meet again. in another life, another time.”

the ache in your chest was sharp, suffocating, but beneath it, a fragile ember of hope glowed. hope that love this true could never really die.

you stayed there long after the others had gone, speaking softly to the emptiness, to the memory of him. and as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the quiet earth, you finally stood, wiping your tears away with trembling hands, and took a slow, steady breath.

“goodbye, jaehyun,” you said, voice trembling but sure, “until we meet again.”

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hyunjiiza · 4 months ago

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ꕀ ✸ dance your heart ‹𝟹 (and mine) away ༶

【d-a-n-c-e ୨୧】 𓏲 when 𝑒𝘯𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘯 members meet (and crush on) their new choreographer , you ◠ .ᐟ 𝓌.𝒸 ◌ 𝟷𝟼𝟷𝟸 ㄑ𝑝𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ᛝ ot7 ! 𝓍 gender neutral! reader ⢄cont. | reader can dance , first time meetings - mentions of mistreatment (super vague), reader gets called pretty / cute ᝰ library

❥ 𝒾𝘴𝘢’𝘴 note ꕀ | hi guys !! my first time writing for enha so im a little nervous but i think its okay, i might do a part two as a smau or something where you actually start dating! first post in a while that isn’t a re up load .. i got a burst of motivation so im taking advantage ,, also i started watching dahmer and i like how it was filmed and how they portray everything so if you’re into that kind of stuff i recommend giving it a watch !! happy reading

ʚ ni-ki ɞ

definitely thrown off guard when they’re promised a new choreographer and someone his type walks in

subtly tries to get to know more about you while making it seem like he’s just being nice

has to debate going extra hard to impress you or acting stuck to get your help

“can you maybe do it with me? or can i watch you do it first??”

all the other members notice and make fun of him but they like you too so they’re unintentionally wingmen

jungwon convinces you to hang out with all of them and seats you and niki together (everyone can tell what he’s doing)

he legit goes red and stiff as a board when you sit next to him even though he tries so hard to make it go unnoticed

works up the courage to ask to have a one on one session to work on new choreo

spoiler: it’s awkward because he’s shitting bricks

“so.. do you have a boyfriend..”

“you couldn’t ask me that after i got out of a handstand”

ʚ jungwon ɞ

is plotting on you the MOMENT you introduce yourself

what initially draws him to you is the way you’re insistent on making the dance room a safe space for them

takes full advantage of the fact that he’s the leader and is always hogging you

late nights together: making new choreography, learning new tricks, drafting stretches and vocal exercises to do while working out, laughing and laying together flat back on the cool dance floor. this is when he really starts understanding his feelings for you.

watches the way you interact with all the other boys to determine if he really wants to go for it or not

asks you to stay after practice one day and you genuinely think you’re about to get fired but he just walks out of the room and then back in with flowers and a pretty flush to his face

“ithinkyou’rereallyprettyandireallyreallywannatakeyouonadatepleasesayyes ..?”

“uh.. what?”

ʚ sunoo ɞ

wasn’t even listening when the company told the group they were getting a new choreographer so when you walk into the room and introduce yourself he takes it as a blessing

he does actually get a little stuck sometimes and is prepared to be scolded but when you just explain it slower for him he falls hard

once you settle into a comfortable rhythm with the whole group he recruits jungwon to ask about your love life, your type and if you wanna date someone

convinces you to stay with him after practice to “take his instagram pictures” but really just wants to have alone time with you

doesn’t really know how to ask you out so he just gradually gets you to go out with him more and more

facetimes you saying he has questions but just makes you stay on the phone with him while he does skincare and falls asleep

“you bought this for me?? it’s really expensive !”

“i’m bribing you. will you go out with me?”

ʚ sunghoon ɞ

nervous when they’re all waiting to meet you, (even though it’s literally not a big deal he’s just weird.) definitely bouncing his leg up and down

cusses up a storm in his head when he realizes he’s gonna have to work with you and his heart is definitely not gonna be able to handle that

messes up because he gets distracted staring at you

convinces jungwon to ask if you can be there for filming because he likes your presence

catches you practicing before actual practice starts and scares the shit out of you bc he’s just there staring at you

wants to die when you fall out of what you were doing and trip

cringes at himself and goes to help you get up with his stupidly muscly arms

“i’m so sorry..” while he’s still holding you and doesn’t realize he can let you go now til you start laughing

bonus: let’s you go and you fall again and then he falls to the floor laughing with you

“your laugh is cute”

“you’re cute”

“yeah. wait what?!”

ʚ jake ɞ

thinks he’s being nonchalant about his crush but stares at you the whole time they practice

gets really into the dance and makes stupid faces and is really embarrassed after

convinces you to go get food with him after a super long practice and you end up talking for hours about everything

it’s great, until you realize you walked there. and the other members left him.. and your car is currently getting a tire replaced

gets an uber with you to your house, walks you to the door, and then the uber leaves him because he thinks he’s going there too 😭

he’s actually really embarrassed and thinks you think he’s stupid but he gets heeseung to come get him and you let him in and make him play uno with you

heeseung comes! to save the day!! he also gets stuck playing uno ..

everyone falls asleep on your couch

you and jake end up waking up together in the morning and make breakfast together like you’re parents

gentle grabs of the waist from behind, grabbing things from top shelves for you, maybe even a kiss up against the counter

“are you guys fucking making out? and what is that smell??”

“the eggs :(“

safe to say all three of you do the walk of shame into the practice room after breakfast

ʚ jay ɞ

literally doesn’t care that they’re getting a new choreographer

until you walk in

“bro who is that??” “the new choreographer?? who else dumbfuck??”

literally acts like an outstanding citizen. does NOT let you catch him lacking.

cleans up, buys everyone snacks from the vending machine, if you need a volunteer he’s there

everyone laughs at him because they can tell he’s just trying to impress you, so they come up with a master plan to also act like him so he has to step it up

he almost throws a brick at jungwon when he starts getting you your favorite drink before every practice, looking him directly in the eye every time he hands it to you and you smile

“i can take you out and stuff. like we can go out together you know?? and get you more than drinks. if you want..”

(while he’s red in the face)

ʚ heeseung ɞ

is the most skeptical about someone new coming in, so your first session after meeting he’s just watching you

someone messes up and you jokingly say “everyone drop and give me 100” and they actually start and you’re just like what the hell

when you’re like “guys please i was kidding” everyone is also like what the hell bc they thought you were fr

he thinks the concerned look on your face is so cute he isn’t even embarrassed about dropping to the floor instantly

you make NO jokes after that and everyone feels bad (including you)

jake suggests you all go out for ice cream to break the ice (haha)

heeseung runs over to the seat next to you

you get the same flavor and he’s silently coming up with baby names bc he’s convinced it’s fate

once everyone starts laughing together you rest your head on his shoulder without noticing and he creams his pants and leans his head on top of yours

“get a room” -niki. followed by a smack

𖨂 tag | @cosmicalily @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @zelinkcrossing @hwanqluvs @eastjonowhere @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @smlbch @tricky-ritz @yaniluvs @pigeonseatmayo @transparentheartcollection @4ng3l-ch1ld | 【༝༚ 】 @hyunjiiza 7:07

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jeonginsleftcheek · 1 year ago

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Cuddling with Stray Kids

pairing: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

a/n: mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety, this is just my opinion, not proofread, hope you enjoy!��

additional notes: i have 12 things in my drafts and they're all over the place but i wanted to post something

Chan:

I feel like Chan gives the best and biggest hugs so you will probably be drowning in his arms with your face buried in his chest or neck. It's probably late at night when you cuddle, and first you talk about your day and complain about your work or studies. Chan will listen to you and throw in a few quips here and there as he holds you and caresses your hair. Then you ask him about his day and he'll talk about his members and funny things they did or said. As it gets later, you both get quieter and Chan's favorite thing is when you put your leg around him and pull him even closer, leaning in and leaving kisses everywhere on his face. Every time you do that it makes him blush, no matter how long you've been together. Even though he usually says he can't sleep, he will fall asleep first in your arms because he feels relaxed and safe. Then you can admire his beautiful face before you drift off to sleep too.

Minho:

I feel like Minho would also love facing you and talking to you while cuddling, but he would love to bury his face in your chest and leave little kisses everywhere. Most of the times he will also leave small bites and nibbles and you always warn him not to start anything cause you really want to take some rest. He always smirks and leaves a few more kisses on your neck. I think he would also love pressing his lips into yours, as his hand slides under your shirt and rests on your back. He would draw little patterns on your skin and his hand would always without a doubt slide down to grip your ass. Can you blame him though, you're hot and he loves you, he just can't help himself.

Changbin:

Changbin would love it if you lay on his chest. He would put his arms around you and caress your hair and face. The sound of his heartbeat will always calm you down, any anxiety of the day will be wiped away as soon as you feel his big arms wrap around you. He would kiss your hair and forehead gently and ask you if you were okay and if you had a good day. You would talk with him but your eyelids would get heavy, it's hard not to fall asleep when he's touching you so gently like he's afraid to disturb you. His presence is calming to you and you feel so loved and safe.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin would love to be the big spoon and he'd hold you so close to him and so tightly that you think he might want to merge into you. His face would be buried in your hair, he just loves to inhale your sweet shampoo because it calms him down. His hands would be roaming around your body, and he would squeeze you gently a few times. But, Hyunjin can't help himself being this close to you while your perfect ass is pushed up against his middle so cuddling sessions almost always end with lazy sex.

Jisung:

I think Jisung would love being both the big and the little spoon. If he's the little spoon, he'd love it if you held him real tight and also hold his hands at the same time. But, if he was the big spoon, I feel like he'd just grab and hold your boob. Nothing sexual, he just finds it relaxing to hold it and squeeze it like it's a stress ball. On some days, I feel like he wouldn't stop yapping while you cuddle and you would be playfully annoyed at him, so he would annoy you even more on purpose. He'd probably start talking nonsense or he'd start singing with an annoying voice. You would smack his butt and he'd just laugh because he enjoys teasing you. On other days, when he's really tired and in his head, he'd be quiet and he'd let you talk about everything and anything because the sound of your voice calms him down.

Felix:

I think Felix would love to rest his head on your chest or tummy. This boy will be clinging to you like a koala, limbs all wrapped around you so you don't ever think of escaping. He would nuzzle his face in your chest or neck, and if he's laying on your tummy he will bury his face there and leave kisses on your skin. His hands will be all over you as will his lips, he can't help it, he adores you. I think cuddling sessions with him can go either way. Either he's falling asleep as you caress him or because he's a horny little thing he will end up with his face buried between your legs.

Seungmin:

Okay so, I feel like Seungmin would love facing you while cuddling. Even though he's shy and it's hard to maintain eye contact for him, he loves the way you look at him, the admiration in your eyes. He loves the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, and the way you caress his cheek and hair. He would hold your waist and run his fingertips on your skin gently. If it's late at night, he'd probably sing you a gentle lullaby, especially if you had a bad day. He'd sing for you whenever anyways. I feel like he'd also love to exchange a few gentle kisses before both of you drift off together, holding onto each other tightly.

Jeongin:

I feel like he'd be the most restless out of everyone while cuddling. He would love to spoon you, but after some time he would just start feeling jittery so he would play with your hair, poke your cheek or start tickling you. Your cuddling session would probably turn into play wrestling, as you both tried to tickle and annoy each other. When you're both almost breathless Jeongin will lean down to kiss you and let's just say that you're not going to sleep soon.

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wasteddmoondust · 1 year ago

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little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #zee writes

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cosmicclearwater · 8 months ago

Text

Give Him Time | E. Call

• ──────────────☾────────────── •

Genre: fluff Character: Embry Call x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: cursing, kissing/making out, use of Y/N Summary: Embry tries to keep his distance but gives up when he realizes that he no longer has a choice. Requested: Yes (from anon: "embry x reader he imprints on reader who just moved to forks (no relationship with bella or anyone in the books she jus moved thered with her family) and he imprints when shes at a bonfire on la push beach. he is around with a couple other pack members and he’s supposed to jus keep watch and he takes a while to build a relationship w her") Note: characters are aged up (around 20).

a/n: kinda hate this, but it's been ages since I've posted, and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while.

• ──────────────☾────────────── •

One week. I've been in Forks for one week and I've already been roped into attending some kind of late-night social gathering at a beach in La Push by a group of friends I met while working at the local grocery store in town. That would probably be exciting for most people, especially if they're new in town and know absolutely no one, but I don't see it that way. I would much rather be hiding away in my room, curled up under my weighted blanket with a good book and a hot cup of tea, not freezing my ass off at a bonfire on the beach surrounded by strangers. Despite it being late August and technically still summer, the nights are significantly cooler than the days, which aren't very hot themselves. Thankfully it's not raining out. I would have turned down the offer to come had it been anyone other than the sweet, kind-hearted Angela who'd asked. But since I didn't, I'm stuck listening to the annoying, air-headed Mike Newton go on an over-exaggerated tangent about the time got caught sleeping in his math class in high school and received detention for it.

As I try my best to be attentive, I can't help but let my eyes drift around the large group of people that surround the area. It was only supposed to be a small gathering, and that's how it started out, but as it gets later, more and more people show up. I sigh, continuing to scan the crowd until my eyes land on a small group of guys standing nearby. Just by their appearance, I know who they are. Jessica made sure to inform me prior to arriving about the "weird" reservation kids who act like they run the area and would probably show up to stand watch like guard dogs. She and her friends had a lot to say about the four guys, none of it being particularly nice. I don't see the problem, though, because they have kept to themselves the whole time. They speak when spoken to, but other than that, they keep conversation amongst themselves. I find myself intrigued by the reserved strangers.

My gaze lingers a little too long because one of them looks up and our eyes lock. Instantly, a shiver runs down my spine, a sudden rush of warmth replacing the coldness I'm feeling. Something about him draws me in and pulls me towards him, yet I can't find the will to move. He's beautiful, in a boyish kind of way, wearing khaki shorts and a black cut-off T-shirt despite the chilled weather. He's the one to break the impromptu staring contest when one of his friends nudges his side and steals his attention. I'm a little disappointed when his rich brown eyes look away. I watch for a little longer as they share a few hushed words before all of their eyes shift to me. The extra attention forces me to finally divert mine away.

"Hey," I lean closer to speak to Angela, "I'll be back. I'm gonna take a walk down the beach."

"Okay." She nods, "Do you want me to walk with you?"

"No, it's okay. I won't be gone long."

I walk along the shore, kicking rocks until I get far enough away that the loud music and shouting sound like a soft murmur in the distance. I find a washed-up log and sit down, watching the waves crash against the shore before retreating. It's quiet and peaceful. I could probably fall asleep sitting here. The sound of a stick snapping behind me ruins that thought. Turning my head away from the water and towards the forest, I come face-to-face with the handsome boy.

"You shouldn't be wandering around out here by yourself. It's not safe." He speaks as he takes a hesitant step closer to me.

"I could say the same to you."

"Why did you leave your friends?" He asks, coming to take a seat on the log next to me, making sure to leave a little space between us.

"They are hardly my friends." I laugh dryly, staring back out at the water. "I didn't even want to come."

"Then why did you?" I shrug in response, not really having a reasonable answer to give. "I could give you a ride home if you want."

"I don't even know you." I chuckle. "Didn't you just lecture me about it not being safe to wander off out here alone, and now you're offering me a ride home. Talk about stranger danger. This is literally the plot and premise of every teen slasher film."

"It was hardly a lecture. More of a piece of valuable advice." He smiles, offering his hand to shake. "I'm Embry Call."

"Y/N Y/L/N." I reply, grabbing his hand. It's unbelievably warm yet comforting.

"Now we're not strangers. Want to take me up on my offer now?" He asks. "If not, you could always go back and ask that Newton kid to tell you another story to help pass the time."

"I would rather step on a Lego than listen to another one of his stories." I scoff. "But I should let Angela know I'm leaving first."

"Let's go then." He chuckles and stands up, waiting for me to rise to my feet before leading me back to the bonfire.

• ───────────────────────────── •

The drive to my house seems to go by quickly. We make small talk here and there until the conversations eventually fizzle out completely and we fall into a comfortable silence. There's a weird tension that lingers in the air. Not a bad weird, just different. I want to know more about him but he's a little closed off. When we speak, it seems like he wants to let me in, he wants to talk to me, but something is stopping him from getting too deep. Despite that, he makes me feel at ease.

"We're here." he speaks softly, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for the ride." I reply, attempting to hide my disappointment with a smile. "And for not killing me." I tack on a joke for further convincing.

"No problem." He laughs as he opens his door to get out. He comes around to my side and opens my door for me, grabbing my hand gently to help me out of the truck. "I'll wait here until you get inside."

"Okay," I nod. "Will I see you around?"

"Maybe." He shrugs.

"Goodnight, Embry."

"Goodnight, Y/N." The way my name rolls off his tongue so soft and smooth sends a gentle shiver running through me. Every thought in my brain vanishes and it's only the sound of his voice playing over and over again like a broken record.

By the time I make it up to my room, I'm smiling hard and surely sporting flushed cheeks. I look out my window to check, and there he is, still waiting like he said. I wave down at him once we make eye contact. He smiles and waves back before climbing into the truck and reversing out of the driveway.

I go about my usual nightly routine before finally settling into bed. The smile that this mysterious boy has somehow managed to plant on my face has yet to disappear. I think back over our interactions throughout the night, and although they had been small and more than likely meaningless to him, they had me giggling and kicking my feet like a little schoolgirl. Figuratively, of course. Once I manage to calm myself down, I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep, whispering a quick prayer that tonight was only the first and not the last time I would be seeing the handsome stranger.

• ───────────────────────────── •

"That movie was awful." I scoff, walking with the rest of the group out of the theater.

"I thought it was awesome!" Mike exclaims.

"How? There was an unnecessary amount of blood and gore that did absolutely nothing for the plot, and the graphics were horrible."

"Woah there! Didn't know we had a professional movie critic on our hands." Mike jokes, receiving laughter from the rest of the group.

I roll my eyes as they begin gushing and raving about the action movie as we walk down the street. I fall back behind the group a bit, putting a little distance between me and them, but not too much that it's noticeable. Not that I think they would notice anyway. Despite having hung out with them numerous times since the bonfire two weeks ago, my friendship with them hasn't progressed at all. I just don't feel much of a connection with any of them, other than Angela.

"Hey, Y/N!" A call of my name pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up at Angela and her friends to find the source, only to see them looking back at me, confusion written on all of their faces. "Hey!" The masculine voice calls again from behind me, a little closer this time. I turn around this time, coming face-to-face with one of the guys from the bonfire, Embry and a couple of others not far behind.

"Do I know you?" I ask.

"No, but I know you. I'm Jared Cameron." He offers me his hand to shake.

"Y/N Y/L/N." I shake his outstretched hand. The next one to introduce himself has short, curly hair and a boyish grin on his face.

"Quil Ateara. The fifth, but the greatest." He chuckles, shaking my hand. The last one steps up wearing a smug expression as he introduces himself.

"Paul Lahote." He smirks, grabbing my hand and bringing it up to his lips. However, before he can make contact with my skin, he is stopped by Embry's stern voice.

"Enough, Paul." He orders to the snickering man.

"Hi, Embry." I redirect my attention to the boy who stands a few steps behind the others.

"Hey." He replies, our gazes locking briefly before he looks away.

"We're heading to a little restaurant down the street," Jared explains. "Wanna join?"

"Oh uh-" As I try to find the words to respond to his spontaneous offer, I'm interrupted by the voice of a female, that I have come to realize I am not the biggest fan of.

"Hey, Y/N. Who are your friends?" She asks, leaving me no time to respond before turning to introduce herself. "Hi, I'm Jessica Stanley." A chorus of 'hey's and 'hello's come from the group in response.

"We're heading home if you're ready." She directs her attention to me this time.

"Okay."

"We were actually offering her to join us for dinner," Quil states, presenting the offer Jared had extended to me just a few moments ago. "If she hasn't eaten yet."

"That's so kind of you." Jessica speaks with fake enthusiasm.

"Will you?" Jared questions, eyes trained on mine.

"Sure." I nod, turning to the group I had come with. "If that's okay with all of you."

"Go ahead." Angela is the one to step up and speak, a small but noticeable smile on her face. "Text me when you get home?"

A simple nod is all she needs before she grabs Jessica's hand and guides her back over to their group.

"Let's go," Paul speaks, throwing his arm over my shoulder as if we've known each other for years, and begins to lead me away. "I'm starving."

The restaurant we end up at is a cute, family-owned Italian place. It's cozy and welcoming, much like the rowdy group of boys who invited me to it.

"You have got to try the pizza," Quil leans in from his chair beside me to show me the options on the menu. "It's amazing."

"You think so?" I ask, amused by his never-ending enthusiasm.

"I know so." He winks, flashing me a toothy grin.

"The chicken alfredo is also really good." Jared adds from his seat on the other side of the table. I take their suggestions into consideration as I browse the menu.

"Everything looks and sounds delicious," I say, a sigh of defeat passing through my lips. "I don't know what to choose."

"We could order a couple plates of pasta and a few large pizzas to share. The portions are pretty big." Jared suggests.

"That's fine with me." I nod. "I'm still kind of full from the popcorn I ate at the theater so I won't be able to finish a full meal by myself."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Quil taps the tip of my nose with his index finger, forcing a giggle out of me at his antics. "Whatever you don't eat, I can gladly finish for you."

"Sounds like a plan then." I smile.

Once we finalize our decisions and put in our orders, we fall into easy conversation. A majority of it is Jared, Quil, and Paul bickering about random stuff or asking me questions. Despite their endless chatter, I can't help but let my mind linger on the quiet male sitting directly to my left. Before I can gather the courage to talk to Embry, Paul grabs my attention.

"How come you hang out with that Newton kid and his friends if you can't stand them?"

"Huh?" His question throws me off a bit.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't seem too thrilled when we saw you outside of the theater." He elaborates. "And you looked a little annoyed when that Jennifer girl butt in to our conversation."

"You mean Jessica?" I chuckle as I correct him.

"Yeah, her." He nods.

"I wouldn't say that I dislike them, necessarily." I shrug. "I just don't click with them well, I guess. Angela is cool, and Eric isn't too bad, but the others are just so...I don't know. Jessica has to always be the center of attention, and Mike is overly flirtatious and too handsy for me."

"Handsy?" Embry questions, addressing me for the first time since out intial greeting outside of the theater. "Has he touched you?"

"It's nothing bad," I assure him. "It's just little things like trying to hold my hand or mess with my hair. Just weirds me out a bit."

"He still shouldn't be trying to touch you without your permission." He grumbles. "Someone needs to put him in his place."

"It's fine." I shrug. "He's harmless, just doesn't understand boundaries." Before he can say anything else, the food arrives.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" The waitress asks after placing all of the food on the table. A chorus of "no's" and "no thank you's" float around the table. "Okay. Just call for me if you need me." As soon as she walks away, we all dig in.

"I am stuffed!" I exclaim after taking the last bite of pasta on my plate. There's still half a dish of pasta and a full pizza left on the table, but at the rate that the boys are eating, I'm positive it will be gone soon.

"You humans and your small appetites." Quil laughs around a mouth full of pizza. His comment earns him a harsh glare from the others.

"Humans?" I laugh at his strange words. "What are you, then? A dog." The table falls quiet as the four share a look before breaking out into nervous laughter. Ignoring their weird response, I change the subject.

"So, what is school like on the reservation?" I ask.

"Boring," Jared replies. "And a lot smaller than public schools."

"What do you do for fun?"

"We spend a lot of time hanging out with our friend Sam and his fiancee, Emily, at their place. It's our home away from home." He answers.

"Or going cliff jumping." Paul adds.

"Cliff jumping?" My eyes widen as I repeat the words back to him. "Is that even safe?"

"No, but it's fun as hell." Quil chuckles. "Gives you a huge adrenaline rush. You should come with us and give it a try some time."

"Absolutely not." Embry interjects, shutting down his suggestion before I can answer for myself. "She could get seriously injured, if she doesn't die from it."

"She'll be fine." Paul jumps in. "Jacob's little leech lover did it and survived."

"Barely." Embry scoffed. "Jacob had to pull her out and perform mouth-to-mouth on her."

"Well, it's a good thing she will be with us then." Paul responds cheekily. "What do you say, Y/N? I don't mind providing a little mouth-to-mouth if necessary."

"I'll pass."

"You should come hang out on the rez, then? At Sam and Emily's place." Jared suggests.

"I don't know." I shake my head. "I don't want to intrude. You seem like a really tight-knit group."

"It's fine." He waves me off. "You'll fit right in." A smug look flickers across his face, as if he knows something that I don't.

"Maybe, but not tonight. I need to get home soon."

"Of course." Jared nods. "Let's pay the bill and then we can head out."

• ───────────────────────────── •

"Are you sure this is okay? They won't mind that I'm here?" I ask Quil as we make our way up the drive way toward Sam and Emily's house.

"Of course not." He gives me a reassuring smile. "We've told them all about you, and they are excited to meet you. Emily's happy to have another female to hang out with. Something about there being too much testosterone around here." He rolls his eyes laughing. "Word of advice though. Don't stare at Emily's face. It pisses Sam off."

"Noted." I nod as we walk up the steps.

"Honey, I'm home!" Quil shouts into the house as he throws the door open.

"Please leave." Paul deadpans.

"Hi! You must be Y/N." A woman greets warmly as she makes her way across the kitchen, making sure to smack Paul in the back of the head and telling him to be nice. "I'm Emily Young." She introduces herself as she pull me into a hug.

"Yes, I am." I nod smiling, reciprocating her hug. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Sam Uley." A man steps up next to her, greeting me as he does. "That's Seth and Leah Clearwater," He gestures to two other unfamiliar faces sitting at the kitchen table. "And you know the rest of the hooligans."

"Hooligans?" Jared scoffs. "I'll have you know that I am a very distinguished young man." He says as he adjusts his invisible tie.

"Yeah, maybe compared to a caveman." Paul retorts, causing Jared to retaliate by intiating a wrestling match in the small kitchen.

"Enough, you two." Sam barks, trying and failing to hide his amusement at their antics.

"Come sit." Emily turns to me, gently ushering me to the only empty chair at the table, which happens to be right next to Embry.

"Hey," He greets in a quiet whisper as I take a seat.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" He questions, a look of concern on his features.

"Yeah," I nod. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem a little tense." He answers. "And they can be a lot sometimes, even for someone like me who has spent years dealing with them."

"I'm okay," I assure him with a smile. He simply nods before turning to finish his lunch as Emily sets a plate down in front of me.

"I'm not sure if you've eaten already but I saved a plate for you." She explains. "Food doesn't last long around here with all of these men so I made sure to put some aside when I heard you were coming."

"I'm starving, actually. I haven't eaten yet today." I reply. "Thank you!"

"You haven't eaten? Like, at all?" The boy named Seth asks from his spot opposite of me.

"No." I shake my head. "I was up late last night writing a paper for my English class and started working on it again as soon as I woke up. I guess I got a little too carried away and forgot to eat anything. But hey! At least I finished my paper. Four days early at that."

"You should still make sure you're eating properly though." Embry states.

"Of course." I nod in agreement. "It's a bad habit I've been trying to kick for years. Once I get locked in on something, it's hard to step away. My mom has lectured me, like, a million times about it."

"So it happens often, is what I'm hearing." Emily steps in, her mom voice making an appearance."

"More often then it should." I respond sheepishly.

"That settles it then." She shakes her head in disbelief. "I'm now making it my personal duty to make sure you are eating three full meals a day. Can't have you getting sick on us."

"You don't have to do that." I argue.

"I know I don't have to, but we take care of our own around here. I know you're new to the group, but I already consider you one of us." She explains, her tone leaving no room fro argument.

"Okay." A blush warms my cheeks as I finally begin to dig into my food.

"Embry." Sam calls his name from where he stands by the kitchen door. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He responds with a nod before rising from his chair and following Sam outside. They are standing on the porch right outside the door, speaking in hushed whispers. As the conversation goes on, Embry seems to grow increasingly frustrated or angry, I assume by the expressions on his face. A few more words are shared between the two before Embry stomps off the porch and Sam returns to the kitchen, letting out a heavy sigh as he enters. The others give him a questioning look, but all he does is shake his head in response.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, coming to sit at the table next to Emily.

"Nothing really." I shrug. "Planned on just hanging out at home and reading a book."

"Lame!" Quil and Jared shout simultaneously.

"I'm hosting a bonfire tonight if you would like to join."

"Please do!" Emily almost begs. "You can meet the other girls as well. Kim and Rachel, Jared's and Paul's girlfriends."

"Sure," I nod. "Why not?"

"Perfect!" She smiles. "Would you like to run into town with me? I need to grab some groceries for the barbeque."

"Of course. I don't have anything else to do."

"Let me go grab my purse."

• ───────────────────────────── •

"Hey, Emily. Can I ask you something?" I ask as we walk down another aisle to grab the things she needs.

"Ask away."

"Does Embry not like me or something?" I question. "Like, did I do something wrong? Or offend him in some way?"

"Of course not." She shakes her head at my words. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know." I shrug, nervously fidgeting with the loose threads on my sweater. "He just seems closed off when I'm around. I just thought maybe it was something I did."

"That's just Embry." She reassures me. "He's always been more of an introvert compared to the other guys."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive." She stops walking and turns to face me. "Don't read too much into it. Just give him time. He'll come around." I nod in response, choosing to trust her words and expel those negative thoughts from my head. "Now come on, we only have a few more things to grab and I'm afraid those bozos might destroy the house if they are left alone too long." She giggles as she begins walking again, me following close behind.

When we return to the house, the guys are horsing around outside, as Emily and I head to the kitchen to put everything away. Once all of the groceries are in their rightful place, she begins to prep what will be needed for dinner.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, I got it, but thanks." She politely declines. "Why don't you head outside. Or you can hang out in the living room and watch some TV. Whatever you want to do."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

I begin to make my way towards the door to go outside when I notice Embry sitting on the couch by himself. I hesitate briefly before making up my mind and stepping towards the living room instead.

"Hi, Embry." I speak softly, as not to startle him.

"Hey, Y/N." He greets, glancing at me over his shoulder and then turning his attention back towards the TV.

"What're watching?"

"Nothing, really. Just flipping through channels to see if anything good is on. So far, I've found nothing." He shrugs.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"No, I don't mind." He scoots over to make room on the couch. We fall into a tense silence as he continues to flip through channels before he finally settles on a true crime show.

"Are you excited for the bonfire?" He asks, finally breaking the silence and turning his head to look at me, our gazes interlocking.

"Yeah, actually. I am." I reply, smiling. This is the first time we've had an actual conversation together since the one we had on the night we met and I can't help but feel giddy about it.

"Good." He nods, he lifts one of his hands to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"Oh, uh, thank you." I can feel my cheeks heat up instantly. "You do, too. Look handsome, I mean. Not beautiful. Not that you aren't beautiful, I just-" I blush harder as I stumble over my words.

"Thank you." He interrupts, chuckling softly.

Our conversation dies out as we stare into each other's eyes. However, the silence this time is much more comfortable. Without realizing it, we had begun to lean into each other. So close that our noses are almost touching.

"Can I-" Embry begins to speak but is cut off as Sam's voice carries through from the kitchen.

"Embry, come out. I need your help gathering the fire wood."

"Okay, be right there." He replies, backing away. "I'll talk to you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah." I nod, another blush dusting my cheeks as I start to think about what would have happened if Sam hadn't come in.

Embry then gets up from his spot beside me, leaving me with a soft smile and following Sam out the door.

• ───────────────────────────── •

The bonfire burns brightly, providing some warmth against the chilly night air. I sit with the other girls, talking and laughing as the guys kick around a soccer ball off to the side. Just like Emily, Kim and Rachel are kind and inviting, making it easy to fall into comfortable conversation. Even Leah, despite her quiet nature.

"So, you and Embry, huh?" Rachel nudges my side gently with her elbow, wiggling her eyebrow suggestively.

"What about me and Embry?" I ask confused.

"Are y'all, like, a thing?" Kim is the one to ask the question.

"Oh, no. Definitely not." I shake my head, laughing at the incredulousness of the idea. "If you haven't noticed, he barely speaks to me."

"Which is kind of crazy to me because the guy can barely keep his eyes off of you." Rachel says.

"Right!" Kim exclaims. "Glad I'm not the only one who noticed."

"You're seeing things." I argue.

"But you like him though, don't you?" Leah asks.

"Would you think I'm crazy if I said yes?" I bite my lip nervously. "He. doesn't even give me the time if day. Today was the first time we've held a conversation that was longer than three words since the night we met, but I can't help but be drawn to him. Like some kind of invisible string is keeping me tied to him. I sound weird and obsessive, don't I?" I sigh, feeling embarrassed at my admission.

"Not at all." Emily smiles, providing me with some comfort. "Like I said earlier, just give him a little time."

"You should-" Before Rachel can finish what she is going to say, they sound of men arguing grabs all of our attention.

"I said back off, Paul!" Embry shouts angrily at his friend.

Paul laughs menacingly. "Oh yeah? Or what?"

Embry lets out what I can only describe as a deep growl as his body begins to shake in anger.

"Careful there, Call." He says mockingly. "Don't want to lose your cool in front of your girlfriend." Those words seem to be the final trigger, because on my next breath, Embry's clothes shred to pieces as he turns into a giant wolf.

All of the air leaves my lungs as the scene unfolds. Paul is next, shifting into a massive beast in the blink of an eye, right as Embry lunges for him. The two begin to fight, large jaws snapping at each other as they roll on the ground.

"What the actual fuck?" I whisper as I finally catch my breath.

"Leah, Emily." Sam calls. "Get her inside." As soon as the words leave his mouth, a black wolf, larger than the other two, takes the place where his once human form stood. The others soon follow, beginning to chase after the two who have now managed to tumble into the forest.

"Can someone please explain to me what the hell just happened?" I gasp out as we make our way into the living room.

"It's not really our place to say, but Sam can as soon as he gets back." Emily places a comforting yet firm hand on my shoulder, forcing me to take a seat on the couch.

"They're not gonna kill each other, are they?" The horrifying thought leaves my lips before I can stop it.

"No," Rachel shakes her head. "They'll be fine. This actually happens quite often."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." I look at her as if she is insane."

"Sam will calm them down, and then they will all return safely. Not scratch or bruise in sight." Kim explains. I nod, taking a deep breath.

"So they're werewolves?"

"We prefer the term 'Shifter'." Leah states.

"Can all of you do that?"

"Nope. Just me and the guys."

"You're the only female that can turn into a wolf?"

"The only one known." She nods.

"Okay." I nod, trying to process the new found information. "Wow! This is a lot to take in."

"You're handling it pretty well, though." Kim giggles. "I half expected you to run off screaming."

We sit waiting for about ten minutes, them answering the questions they are allowed to answer, before the door swings open. Jared, Quil, and Seth walk into the house, Sam, Paul, and Embry moments after.

"Sorry about that, Y/N." Paul laughs as he throws himself down on the floor in front of where Rachel sits.

"No problem." I respond before turning my attention towards Sam.

"I'm sure you have a few questions."

"That's the understatement of the century." Sam chuckles at my response as he begins to explain everything. Their history, abilities, what causes the first shift, what triggers every shift after, how they control it. He goes on for what feels like half an hour until he feels that he has covered everything.

"Now that that is out of the way, there is one more thing you must know, but it's best if you and Embry discuss that privately."

"Um...okay?" I turn to look at Embry, who is still standing next to the door.

"Can I give you a ride home?" He asks. "I'll explain on the way there."

"Sure." I nod, standing from the couch. "Thanks for inviting me. Despite all of the chaos, I really enjoyed spending time with you all."

"Of course, Y/N." Sam smiles gently. "You're welcome any time."

• ───────────────────────────── •

The first ten minutes of the twenty-minute drive pass in silence. Neither of us willing to break it, but eventually I speak, not being able to stand the tension anymore.

"Embry?" I call his name softly, my voice coming out as almost a whisper. "There was something you wanted to tell me."

"'Want' isn't exactly the word I would use, but I don't really have a choice." He sighs heavily. "For starters, I want to apologize. I didn't want to drag you into this. I tried to keep my distance, but my friends were hellbent on playing matchmakers. If it had been up to me, tonight wouldn't have ever happened."

"Oh." His words trigger an ache in my chest.

"It's not that there is anything wrong with you. You're great, actually. It's just that I didn't want to bring you into my world because it's too dangerous for you."

"Dangerous? How? What does any of this have to do with me?"

"That leads to my next point. There is this thing that us Shifters do. It's called imprinting." He explains as he slows the car down before pulling over to the side of the road and putting the car in park.

"Imprinting?" I ask as he turns to me, eyes locking onto mine.

"Yeah. In looser terms, it's kind of like finding our soulmate. The one person we are destined to be with. When we find our imprint, they instantly become the one thing in this world that we would do anything for. We will become anything they want or need us to be. A protector, a friend, a lover. They become the center of our whole world. The gravity that holds us to the Earth. Everything and everyone in our lives suddenly comes second to them."

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes," He nods, responding before I can finish my sentence as if he had read my mind. "That night we first met, on the beach in La Push, I imprinted on you. It's not something we can control, it just happens. We don't choose who we imprint on. The moment I looked into your eyes, my fate was sealed."

"Is that why you avoided me? Did you want it to be someone else?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I was avoiding you because bringing you into all of this is dangerous. There are other supernatural beings that exist, and just you breathing puts you in danger because of the connection we have."

"Other supernatural beings? Like what?"

"Vampires. Those are our biggest enemies and what triggered out phases."

"Vampires," I mutter his words back to him in disbelief. "Here in Forks?" He nods in response.

"So if you don't have control over the bond, what would happen if I didn't want it?" I question. "Not saying that I don't, just asking." I quickly explain.

"You could reject it, but it wouldn't be easy. For either of us. The longer we spend apart, the more it will begin to hurt. Not just emotionally but physically too. We would both grow weaker, and it would affect my shifting and other abilities."

"Wow."

"And I'm not saying that to scare you at all, just answering your question honestly."

"So what does that mean for us?"

"What do you want it to mean? Like I said, you are now my sole purpose of living. Your safety and well-being, your life, are now my greatest priority. I will be whatever you need me to be."

"Okay. So, if I wanted to pursue something romantically, would you only be doing it because you have to? Because I actually really like you. Like a lot. But I don't want to force you into anything that you don't actually want."

"I like you, too. And I'm not just saying that because of the bond. I do genuinely mean that. I know it didn't seem like it because of how I acted and how I treated you, but the more time I've spent around you, the more my feelings have grown. My feelings for you are real, they are just amplified by the connection we have."

"Okay."

"Is that want you want?" He asks. "To pursue this romantically?"

"Maybe." I shrug. "Do you?"

"I would like that." He smiles softly.

"Me too." I return with a smile of my own, subconsciously leaning closer to him. "We should probably take it slow though."

"Definitely." He responds, moving in more. Our noses brush gently as he speaks. "Would you be mad if I kissed you? Right now."

I shake my head at his question. "I think I would be more mad if you didn't"

That's all that needs to be said before he leans in the rest of the way and molds his lips softly to mine. Butterflies erupt in my stomach instantly. My body feels like it's on fire, but in a good way. His hand finds my cheek, angling me to deepen the kiss as both of mine find the nape of his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.

Once we both run out of breath, he pulls back, pecking my lips a few more times.

"I should probably get you home." He whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

"Yeah, you probably should." I whisper back, brushing my lips against his softly. He groans softly, caving in and kissing me hard.

"Okay." He moves away to settle back into his seat. "For real, I need to get you home."

"Sorry." I blush.

"Don't apologize." He says. "I didn't mind at all. And now that I've gotten a taste of what its like to kiss you, I don't ever want to stop, but we've been sitting here for a while out in the middle of nowhere."

"You're right. Let's go."

The rest of the drive is spent with light conversation and giddy smiles shared between the two of us. He keeps my hand interlocked with his the whole time and places light pecks against the back of it every now and then. We finally make it to my house, much to my disappointment. Embry, being the gentleman he is, walks me to the door.

"I guess this is goodnight, then." He says, hands still holding mine tightly, as if he doesn't want to let go.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be." He quirks an eyebrow at the insinuation behind my words. "Do you want to come in?"

"I shouldn't." He shakes his head, releasing one of my hands so I can unlock my front door.

"But I think you should." I open the door, tugging on his hand as I step inside. I watch as he battles with whether he should decline or give in. I wait patiently as he makes his decision.

"Fuck it!" He finally says before diving in for a kiss, kicking the door closed behind us as we stumble into the house.

#twilight wolf pack #twilight wolf pack imagine #twilight wolf pack fics #embry call #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #embry call fics #jae.writes

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jacaeryslover · 5 months ago

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KING OF MY HEART: a jacaerys targaryen one-shot.

SUMMARY: jace sits the iron throne, his children want to play with him but he's busy being a good king! reader explains and plays with them.

the ends of your deep blue dress slips against the cold floor of the red keep, you are looking for two little brown haired heads, your children. when you finally arrive to the nursing room, you see lydia trying to play with your eldest son, lucerys, she seems like she's trying really hard to make him feel better.

today is that day of the week, jace is supposed to spend some quality time with his heir, they use that time to play, read or even have lectures about the importance of his father's job, and in the future, it will also be his.

"luke, is everything alright?" you ask tenderly, you knew what happened, but you wanted your own son to tell you, or at least his sweet sister.

lucerys was a lot like you, he was bold but sweet, he had a strong sense of duty. his hair was brown like his father and his cheeks and nose were adorned with tainted freckles, your daughter rhaegan on the other hand was just like her father, she was sweet and caring.

"yes" he mutters quietly, almost like a whisper, but it was enough for you to hear it. his eyes dancing between the wooden carved horses and fishes that lydia swung in the air, in the attempt of making the child play with her.

rhaegan on the other hand, was busy drawing. she had a taste of drawing every type of things, bugs, spiders, castles, and people. she once said that portraits were her specialty.

"rhaegan, do you care to tell me why your brother is sulking?"

the quiet girl finally speaks, lifting her head from her drawing to look at her mother's sweet eyes. "he is sad because father couldn't play with him".

jacaerys never missed the opportunities to play with his children, everyone knew that. so something important had to come up for him to do so.

"well, luke. your father must be very busy, you know he loves to play with you" you say, trying to make your son a little bit happier.

"you know your father works very hard for the people of the realm, his job is of very importance"

"i know, but i miss him" luke says, and it breaks your heart. you knew it was going to be hard, balancing family and the realms duties, but it has to be done nonetheless. and you were proud of your husbands work so far.

and just as he appeared in your thoughts, he stepped into the room with a big smile, ready to dedicate the rest of the day with his children. his apologetic look did not go unnoticed by you.

"i'm sorry, my children. i had some important business to attent to. it will not happen again" he said, taking a place next to you, catching his son's hard gaze "i'm sorry luke, please forgive me" his soft voice directed just to his older son, while bringing his right hand to play with luke's brown hair. a mirage of his own brother.

okay i apologize for this, it's awful but it's been sitting in my drafts for months now and im just letting it go

#house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys girlie #oneshot #game of thrones #x reader #hotd one shot #jacaerys targaryen x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fluff

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captain-huggy-bear · 1 month ago

Note

plsplspls write something fluffy and sweet with clayton 😓😓😓 i’m so so in love with the man it’s slightly concerning

This has been sat in my drafts for so long! I'm very sorry it's taken this long, lovely because I got caught up in Celly requests!! <3 Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

God, you're freezing. It was a stupid idea really, who goes to a team bonfire in the autumn without a jacket? You'd thought that it would be fine, the sun had been shining, the temperature relatively mild for the time of year and you had a jumper on, not some flimsy t-shirt.

Oh, but boy did you miscalculate. As the sun started to set and the prolonged time outside hit you, you started to freeze. Goosebumps all over your skin, hairs standing on end as the wind tried to freeze you to the bone. You were huddled as close to the bonfire as you could get without getting told off for health and safety by Kerf who had taken it upon himself to stop Cools or Doaner catching themselves on fire. Dad mode absolutely activated.

You're trying not to make it obvious that you're freezing but Clay notices. Of course he notices...you're stood there practically shivering, nearly in the fire and you haven't even come away when they announced there were doughnuts to be had. Your sweet tooth usually drawing you away from almost anything except a cute animal, but not tonight.

Call it good luck, call it fate, call it always being prepared, call it whatever you want. But after watching you shiver for a few more minutes Clay couldn't take it anymore, walking away to his car to get the spare hoodie he keeps in the trunk.

It's black, Utah logo and name across the whole thing. A little worn now because of how often he throws it on after a workout or after a long day. He takes a quick sniff before he even considers giving it to you, relieved to find that it just smells like cologne and not sweaty gym guy. God, he'd never live down the embarrassment if he gave you a hoodie that smelled like a locker room.

When comes back to you, you've shifted even close to the fire, too close for his liking. So close that Clay's fingers find the loops of your belt and tug you back a couple of steps, your back hitting his chest with an oomph.

A hand comes round you, hoodie clutched in his palm, knuckles tight, veins popping, that stupid ring on his thumb making you want to die a little because it's unfair. It's unfair that he smells this good, that he's so warm you want to curl back into him, that he's so hot that just his hand has you a little dizzy and he's not even yours. He's just your friend...

"Here, take this. You'll catch a cold." Voice low and rumbly in the way that makes you want to curl around him like a cat.

"I'm okay..." You turn to look up at him, false smile pasted to your lips even as you continue to shiver hands rubbing your arms to give yourself some sort of warmth.

He just gives you a look, brows lowering, lips pursed, disbelieving before forcing you to lift your arms up and shoving the hoodie over your head without much ceremony. You let him because in truth you are absolutely freezing...because it's easy to let Clay take care of you.

The moment the hoodie covers your skin you're instantly 10 times warmer, nuzzling into the fabric as the smell of his cologne, woodsy and spicy, surrounds you. You don't even complain that he'll mess your hair up when Clay pulls the hood up and cinches it around your face in a way you're sure is unflattering.

"Better, don't want you to catch a cold..." He tugs on one of the strings lightly, soft smile, eyes crinkling like you're the best thing he's seen today. It makes you feel warm inside like you'd downed a fresh hot chocolate,

"Thanks, Clay..." His hands linger on your shoulders like he doesn't want to let go of you quite yet. Fingertips tapping against the fabric of the hoodie, tracing lines over your shoulder and down your arms until he pulls away.

Still he's closer to you than he's been in a while, close enough you could kiss him if you wanted, if you just tilted your face a little more, if you just pressed a little further forward...but you don't.

You're still shivering slightly though, Clay's eyes narrowing at the fact you're still not warm.

"C'mere," He tugs you into him, arms wrapping around you, pulling your face into his chest and you melt. Oh, God, you melt into him in a way that feels like it should be embarrassing because he's so warm, so solid underneath you. Your fingers curling into the back of his jacket, sighing into him because for the first time in the last hour you feel comfortable, warm, cosy.

"Better?"

You just nod. You can't see it, not like everyone else, your face too firmly pressed into his chest, but Clay smiles. The softest, most lovesick sort of smile that'll have Kess and Cools, maybe Schmaltzy, making fun of him tomorrow in the locker room...because you don't smile like that while cuddling up to someone who's just your friend. You don't hold someone like that who's just your friend.

#huggy bear writes #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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joequiinn · 8 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 16

[chap fifteen] | [all chapters here] | [chap seventeen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | THIS chapter, yall! I created a super rough draft of this chapter waaay back in the first month of this fic's development and I'm so stoked that I finally got to come back to it after all this time!

WC | 9.1k

Chapter Sixteen

This year, Halloween fell on a Thursday, not that that was stopping any of Hawkins’ teenage population from going absolutely all-out like they did every year. You suspected half of the student body was probably going to skip school tomorrow, considering that everyone seemed to be talking about Chance’s party all damn week - clearly, Halloween was going to take precedence over classes and extracurriculars.

Although you had told Eddie you’d join the Hellfire Club again that night, you became anxious about it, which felt ridiculous - the more and more you replayed last week’s session in your head, the more unsure you were, the more nervous you became. You had practically spilled to Eddie all the pent up shit you’d been feeling via the safety of the princess character, and just recalling it made your ears hot with embarrassment; you weren’t about to let that happen again.

So, you called in a rain-check, making the excuse that you needed extra time to get ready for the party; Eddie teased you about his disappointment, although you could tell in his eyes that he was at least a little let down, even as he tried to play it cool. But, really, it also worked out that you gave yourself a couple extra hours, because you still hadn’t figured out a costume despite spending all week trying to think of ideas. It was as if the mere act of trying to find inspiration garnered you with none at all, your mind constantly drawing a blank whenever asked what or who you’d dress up as.

Having waited till the absolute last minute to even try to find a costume, you sped to the nearest department store after school and tried to search for something amidst whatever remnants were left of the costume section. Despite your moaning and groaning as you dug through vampire capes and witches’ hats, you managed to piece together an idea that, although not thrilling by your standards, was better than nothing at all.

You had also asked Eddie to dress up with you, to which he jokingly suggested a couple’s costume just to watch you squirm at the thought. That idea was quickly shot down, as it was too cheesy even for your own liking. But Eddie assured you he’d come up with something, and thus both your costumes were going to be a surprise to one another.

Not wanting to be those assholes that were punctual to an event, you told Eddie to pick you up at eight - you wouldn’t be the first people there, and that would, hopefully, give him enough time to wrap up with the Hellfire Club and get ready. So, once you returned home from the department store, you were still left with more time than you had expected, breezing past a couple of kids as they approached your house while trick-or-treating.

You worked at a leisurely pace as you fixed your make-up and fussed with your hair, making sure that your outfit looked just right, going so far as to smear fake blood on the front of your shirt. As you got ready, the ringing of the doorbell became more frequent, the trick-or-treaters coming in larger droves once the sun had finally set in the sky.

You were thankful that your mother enjoyed answering the door dozens of times to the sight of excited kids, because it meant you never got roped into the job. You were certain, though, that the children became a little less eager once they were presented with juice boxes instead of candy - despite your efforts to convince her to hand out sweets, she couldn’t be swayed, insisting juice was a better alternative.

Once your costume was finally complete and you assessed yourself in the mirror, you had to admit that you were more satisfied with it than you had anticipated. Despite its simplicity, you figured it was still a recognizable character, so it didn’t look completely half-assed and sloppily thrown together.

It also helped that the tight little shorts you were wearing made your legs look great - not that you were trying to draw someone’s attention to them or anything.

Deciding you weren’t interested in any kind of conversation (or rather, confrontation) with your parents, you lingered up in your room until Eddie finally arrived - considering all the trouble you’d gotten into over the past few weeks, you weren’t all too interested in starting Halloween on a negative note. So, the moment that you spotted his van pulling up along the curb, careful to avoid trick-or-treaters, you practically ran out of the house; trailing behind you, you could hear the sound of your father’s voice, but you bounded out the front door before he could get a word in.

You dashed down the driveway, breezing past a couple of kids bemoaning the juice boxes your mother gave them; you rolled your eyes, knowing she would never change her Halloween habits. Feeling giddy, you and Eddie smiled simultaneously at one another as you climbed into the van. Once you were settled into your seat, Eddie looked you up and down in appraisal of your outfit, and you did the same.

“A pirate?” You questioned, taking in the flowy shirt, dark striped pants, and skull-and-crossbones bandana Eddie wore.

He was still trying to figure out what the hell your costume was - admittedly, the ripped shorts, tight blue flannel, and chunky boots weren’t quite enough of a hint without your spooky accessories.

“And you’re, what, dead Daisy Duke?” He teased with a gleam in his eyes, chuckling as you shook your head as if on the defensive. You grabbed the bag you brought along with you, pulling out a hockey mask and faux machete, holding them out towards Eddie as if to make a point. He rolled his eyes in realization, his smile making you giddy, “Jason Vorhees? You don’t even like Friday the 13th.”

It took you by surprise that Eddie recalled that little bit of information about you, since it only came up once before during one of your horror movie rants; despite yourself, it made your heart flutter eagerly that he remembered something so trivial.

Pulling the mask on - but pushing it up so that it sat atop your head, exposing your face - you grinned triumphantly, pleased with your outfit and the way that Eddie may or may not have been staring at your legs, “Vorhees is better than Daisy Duke.”

Eddie gave you an amused look before his gaze slowly roved over your body again - sure, he’d seen a lot of your body before, whether he meant to or not, but something about this outfit in particular caught his attention. Maybe it was the fact that it was unlike anything you usually wore, maybe it was the way this shirt drew attention to your cleavage, or maybe it was how damn good your legs looked. His eyes were making you antsy, but soon enough he shook his head with a grin.

“Oh yeah, because adding a mask to the costume makes it totally different.”

“What, don’t tell me you’d prefer Daisy Duke.” You teased flirtatiously back, even taking yourself aback with your bluntness. Eddie gave you some unidentifiable look in response before smirking to himself and pulling away from the curb. As he drove along, gleefully head banging to the metal album blasting through the speakers, you couldn’t help but smile contently, taking the opportunity to assess his outfit more closely.

You had to admit, Eddie looked… kind of hot in this cheesy pirate get-up. Sure, you had already begrudgingly accepted that you always found him hot (and just the thought of it right now made your cheeks warm), but there was something absolutely charming about his costume of choice. His shirt exposed a long expanse of his chest, the bandana was far too attractive tied over his messy hair, and his customary jewelry only seemed to compliment the whole get-up. Eddie was frustratingly hot right now - but he didn’t need to know that.

Arriving at the party took a bit of work, as the entire street in front of the Hunter house was packed full of cars, one after another along the expanse of the entire block. You could hear Eddie grumbling to himself as he slowed the van to a crawl in search of a place to park, trying not to hit your peers as they carelessly crossed the street. A smile teased across your lips, and as if he could tell, Eddie shot you a look from the corner of his eye, which only served to make you laugh.

“Geez, has no one heard of carpooling?” Eddie muttered, finally spotting an open space along the curb just a moment later.

“What, first high school party?” You teased as he struggled to parallel park, getting one more sharp look from him.

Eventually, Eddie figured it out, and the two of you climbed out of the van, the evening breeze causing goosebumps to break out across your skin; you tried to hide your shiver, knowing that complaining would be a moot point once you were inside amidst the cramped gathering of warm bodies. Whether he knew you were cold or not, Eddie nonetheless threw his arm around you, gaze wandering across the faces of other teens as well as the few remaining trick-or-treaters running about.

Appreciating the body warmth, you pressed a little closer into his side; feeling brave, you carefully, experimentally snaked your arm around his middle. The feel of your delicate fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt drew Eddie’s gaze down to you, but you refrained from meeting his eyes, feeling stupidly nervous over such a small, simple gesture.

The music and noise from the party was seeping outside, the sound greeting you even before you set foot on the Hunters’ front walkway. A scattering of people had spilled out onto the lawn, you and Eddie drawing a couple of eyes, only for them to look away with disinterest a moment later.

And once you’d stepped over the threshold of the front door, the smell of weed hit you like a ton of bricks, the house hazy with smoke, pop music bumping loud enough that you could feel it vibrating in your chest. You had to pull yourself out from under Eddie’s arm just so you could lead him through the packed throngs of people, lightly grabbing his hand as you began to weave and maneuvering with a practiced ease; by now, you’d been to enough parties at the Hunter house that you knew exactly where you were going.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, knowing that the only appropriate way to start your evening was with a round of drinks. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces looked in your direction, some furrowing at Eddie, but most far too focused on having a good time to worry about who was attending the party. You glanced over your shoulder at Eddie, who was looking around the house with a wide-eyed intrigue, as if taken aback by just how big and wild this party already was; it made you smile fondly.

Finally entering the kitchen, it seemed as if the crowd occupying it was already well intoxicated, keeping realm over the drinks and meager party snacks. You had to shove someone aside a little just so you get to the island that was jammed with bottles and cans and red cups, finally taking your hand from Eddie’s so you could pick through your variety of options.

Although you kept picking up bottles and cans, you already knew the punch bowl full of jungle juice was calling your name; sure, that was the most stereotypical thing you could’ve picked at a damn high school party, but it always did a wonderful job of getting you absolutely plastered. You just wanted to see if anything else would possibly catch your attention.

Feeling Eddie lingering just behind you, you took a small step back into his torso so that he could hear you over the cacophonous noise; he dipped his head down, too, just for good measure, “You looking to get trashed, or you taking it slow?”

You studied his features with a faint smile, enjoying the sight of him up close like this. Eddie looked between you and the kitchen island, eyes searching slowly; eventually, he leaned in closer, practically wrapping around you as he reached for a beer sitting in a bowl of half-melted ice. You delighted in the warmth of his body, trying not to shiver as you took a breath of his familiar, enticing scent. Trying to distract yourself, you quickly grabbed a cup and made for the punch bowl.

As you dunked your cup into the mixture of alcohol and juice, Eddie dutifully followed you, cracking open his can of beer as he teased, “So, we have a couple of drinks and then we head out, right?”

Knowing he was still just a step behind, you nudged your shoulder back to bump Eddie in the chest, giving him a taunting look, “Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Spinning around to face him, you realized you were trapped between Eddie and the countertop; to hide any trepidation, you took a large swig from your cup, cringing at the diabetic amount of sugar and strange combination of flavors. Eddie laughed with a large smile at the clearly comical look on your face, and was it your imagination, or did he lean in just a little bit closer?

Eddie took a sip of his beer, gaze locked on yours even as he pressed the can to his lips, his eyes alight, “Just don’t leave me alone with anyone boring, alright?”

You smiled back easily, brushing up against him as you squeezed past, “No promises…”

And so began your evening, the both of you finishing off your first round of drinks quickly, leading into you convincing Eddie to take a couple of shots with you. Awaiting the buzz that would come soon enough, you dragged Eddie around the party, teasing that you’d make him dance eventually, which he quickly shot down, insisting that even you couldn’t convince him to dance to the likes of Madonna or Prince.

Despite assuming you’d become totally ostracized from your previous social circles, people were always so much more open once they’d gotten a few drinks in them, and so throughout the night you and Eddie would get caught in conversations - some people, you’d once been close to, others you were barely acquainted with. And the utter confusion on Eddie’s face only encouraged you, as he was fully unprepared for people to actually talk to him like a human being and not the freak they all acted like he was.

Somewhere along the way, Eddie disappeared and quickly reappeared with another round of drinks for you two, this time with a cup of his own rather than a lousy beer - you couldn’t help but smile mischievously, eager to see that he was looking to get drunk alongside you. At another point in the night, someone tried to rope the two of you into trying some heavy drugs, and you aggressively told them to fuck off before dragging Eddie away.

Following much socializing and the drinking, you and Eddie eventually escaped into the backyard to get some air; you nearly tripped into the swimming pool, but luckily he was able to pull you back before you both went in, sharing a laugh at the near-miss. Somehow, you became engaged in a conversation with a bunch of band kids who seemed to feel a little out of place at the party - evidently, one of them had dragged the others along, but they weren’t all that interested in being here. Eddie seemed drawn to this crowd now that he knew they felt just as odd as he did, quickly settling into one of the free chairs in the circle. You settled for sitting on the arm of it rather than dragging another chair over, Eddie having to steady you more than once now that the alcohol was making you sway a little.

As Eddie became absorbed in a conversation about instruments that completely went over your head, you took that opportunity to wander back inside for more drinks upon realizing both you and Eddie were carrying around empty cups. And although you swayed a little once you were back on your feet, you insisted that you didn’t need any help, that Eddie stayed put and continued enjoying the company of the band kids.

Pushing through your peers with your senses dulled, you wondered if Eddie thought you were more drunk than you were, and in turn you wondered if he was drunk, too, and just doing a damn good job of hiding it. And then you realized that you had the same line of thought at the last party the two of you attended together, your neck growing hot at the memory.

Back in the kitchen and making your way towards the punch bowl, someone came up alongside you while saying your name tentatively, prompting you to look over with a furrow of your brow. It was only Janet, dressed in a cute little Wonder Woman costume, but considering that you’d barely spoken a word to each other in recent weeks, you couldn’t help but feel hesitation at her presence.

Nonetheless, you were just drunk enough that you tried to shove that worry aside, giving Janet something of a kind look as you greeted her. The music seemed even louder than it was before, so you two had to duck your heads close together just to hear one another; as if presenting a peace offering, Janet held up a couple shots for the two of you to share.

“You here with Amelia?” You sneered your ex-best friend’s name, but Janet promptly shook her head; you downed your shots in unison.

“She and Duncan left a while ago - I imagine to go egg some houses.” Janet responded with disapproval; she’d never been one for pranks, and so it was always a surprise that she hung out with the likes of you, Amelia, and the rest of your crowd.

“How much do you wanna bet my house is one of their targets?�� You asked rhetorically, finding some ease in the presence of your old friend; or maybe it was your inebriation making you less guarded than you’d usually be.

Janet gave you an unsure look, not wanting to say one way or another if she suspected that they’d do that. You refilled both your cup and Eddie’s, which prompted Janet to get a drink of her own; it made you wonder if Janet was hoping to catch you drunk, knowing that you were so much easier to talk to with a bit of alcohol in you.

Biting her lip, Janet looked at you tentatively, “Can we… hang out for a few minutes? Just you and me?”

You wanted to agree, but nonetheless made a suspicious face, “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

Janet’s eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, growing nervous, “No no no, not a trick, I promise.”

You looked between her eyes for a moment, seeking out a lie; after a moment, you held your pinky out to her with a faint smile on your lips. Janet quickly hooked her pinky with yours, holding your gaze just to ensure that you knew she wasn’t messing with you.

With a decided nod, the two of you settled into the breakfast nook, forced to sit close shoulder-to-shoulder thanks to the table’s other occupants. Once more, you ducked your heads together to hear one another over all the noise.

“I miss you.” Janet admitted as if it would somehow upset you, “Things are different without you; Amelia and Duncan are becoming unbearable.”

“Then ditch them.” You slurred as if the idea was the simplest thing in the world - and for you, it had been. But Janet huffed indecisively.

“I can’t,” You were about to argue, but she continued before you got the chance, “ we graduate in May, I really don’t want to find a new crowd to spend time with till then.”

Your brow furrowed as if the answer was obvious, “If you’re looking for someone to sit with at lunch or whatever, just hang with us.”

The face Janet pulled seemed on the verge of condescending, “No offense, but I’m not going to put myself in that position.”

“None taken.” You took a long swig of your drink, getting a little grumpy over the fact that this seemingly serious conversation was happening now; was a Halloween party really the only time that Janet could make this happen?

Seeing the way your face turned down, Janet quickly added, “You know I won’t fit in with your new friends.”

You shrugged, taking another sip of juice, “I didn’t think so either, but it’s not so bad; Eddie certainly helps.”

Janet’s expression softened, “Yeah, but I don’t have an Eddie.”

‘I don’t either,’ you thought ironically, staring into the contents of your cup for a moment. You could feel Janet’s eyes attempting to read you, studying your features thoughtfully and empathetically.

“You actually really like him, don’t you?” She asked, the question taking you by surprise - did she know that the two of you were lying? You forced yourself to focus, meeting her eyes as if silently asking her to elaborate, “I mean, we all thought maybe you were messing with us at some point, but you’re really into him.”

“Well… yeah.” You answered dumbly, unable to contain a drunken giggle - that was the first time you had actually said so out loud without the guise of D&D to hide behind. If you hadn’t been drinking, you probably would’ve held your tongue. Under Janet’s thoughtful eyes, your cheeks grew hot, and as you considered your ever increasing crush on Eddie, you nearly sighed as you longed to wonder what he actually thought of you, too.

After what felt like an eternity - although that was probably just the alcohol talking - Janet smiled, amused by your evident longing, “You seem… different with him. In a good way, I mean.”

You downed more of your drink with something of a sad smile, but you couldn’t let her know that this relationship wasn’t real, so you hoped she hadn't noticed it. You put on your best look of confidence, “I guess, yeah. Less bitchy, that’s for sure.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, Janet looking away from your eyes, “Well, I didn’t want to put it that way…”

You studied her for a moment, feeling yourself growing a little more dizzy as the alcohol continued to slowly seep in, “Jan… can we do this another time?”

She appeared hurt, and you could’ve kicked yourself for it.

“No, I mean,” you took a breath through your nose, trying to figure out a better way of saying it, “Let’s catch up sober, you know?”

That was something you never would have suggested with a clear head, but admittedly this conversation made you realize that it was nice to have someone outside of Eddie to talk to sometimes. Sure, a couple months ago you thought that Janet was a part of the problem, that she was one of the many factors causing you to want to rip your hair out, and yet, this couple of minutes alone together was refreshing.

Janet’s smile was large and dazzling in response, and she nodded excitedly, “Maybe I’ll call you this weekend?”

You nodded back, and after a short round of farewells, Janet took off to join whoever she may have been here with. You returned to the drinks, refilling your cups before heading back out to find Eddie, hoping he hadn’t been worried over where you were.

Although the party had died down just a little, the place was still loud and the house was still just as crowded as ever. While pushing your way past people, you could feel your drunkenness throughout your body, but compared to previous parties, it seemed manageable enough, though that could change at the drop of a hat.

When you finally stepped back outside again, you were relieved to see Eddie sitting exactly where you left him, still intently focusing on the group of band kids; now, however, they were all passing around a joint, everyone’s energy a little more relaxed than when you left them. All the seats were now occupied as more people joined in on the smoke session, but you were too focused on Eddie to really notice; careful not to trip over yourself and topple into the pool, you went to join them again.

Once Eddie’s eyes found yours, the two of you smiled fondly at one another, your expression probably far too eager compared to his relaxed, stoned face. You couldn’t help but find amusement in it, eager to see how different he may act now that he was crossfaded, although he seemed to be keeping it together.

“Took you long enough.” He teased keenly once you within earshot; you shot him a chaff look before setting the drinks on the table in the middle of everyone, managing to spill one of them a little. As you cursed to yourself, Eddie laughed while studying you for a brief moment, “Did you get drunker?”

Catching the way his words slurred ever so slightly, you gave him a taunting grin with narrowed eyes, “Did you?”

You giggled as if you found your question oh-so amusing, looking around for a moment only to finally realize all the seats were taken. Your lips turned down briefly as your attention fell back towards Eddie, who raised a challenging brow at you; was that expression in regards to your observation, or was he just being goofy? And why was he challenging you, if that’s in fact what his brow was conveying?

With your own decided look, you settled into Eddie’s lap without any warning, feeling the way he tensed in surprise; you were situated so that you could continue to look at his face, drinking in his features slowly as if the others around you were all but forgotten. He stared back at you, eyes a little wide, clearly still taken aback that you made the move to get this close to him. Again, you were struck with the thought that this wouldn’t have happened if you were just a little more sober.

You must have swayed some, because Eddie settled his hand gently on your back to steady you, his eyes locked with yours as if unable to look away; you grinned at him fondly. After a few moments of deep thought and some confusion, he smiled back with a hint of nerves, before allowing his attention to drift back to the conversation that had been going on around you. In the next moment, the joint had made its way back to Eddie, and you both took quick puffs before passing it on.

You tried to follow whatever discussion was happening, but there were enough overlapping voices that after a while you could no longer tell what the subject even was; rather, it seemed that half a dozen conversations were happening all at once, everyone else seamlessly gliding between them. And somewhere amidst it all, you managed to finish both your drink and half of Eddie’s, which he didn’t seem all that interested in finishing now that he was getting high as a kite.

Once the joint had made it back to you a second time and you took a deeper drag, you dropped your head to rest atop Eddie’s shoulder, feeling emboldened by the drinks, the drugs, and the desire for him. You didn’t notice that he was watching you from the corner of his hooded, red eyes, inhaling your scent while simultaneously wondering why you were being so soft and tender with him.

Eddie’s cheek pressed a little to the crown of your head as he teased in a whisper, “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

“No.” You insisted, wanting to lift your head so you could look him in the eye, but enjoying the position you were in far too much for that. A thought crossed your mind, and you furrowed your brow at it, “Are you just trying to get out of here?”

Eddie lifted his head, allowing you to meet his dark eyes and become practically hypnotized by them. He shook his head at you simply, to which you grinned, “No… This is nice, actually.”

You leaned in close towards his face with a triumphant look, “I told you this would be fun.”

He smiled back fondly, even as he rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t let it go to your head, princess; you can’t be right all the time.”

“Just most of the time.” You taunted, realizing with confusion that one of your hands was delicately fussing with the fabric of his shirt. When did you start doing that?

Your eyes trailed down the open collar of his shirt, enjoying the sight of his skin; thoughtlessly, your hand traveled up his torso to tease at the hem of the collar, which made Eddie tense yet again. A smirk ghosted across your lips as you met his gaze again flirtatiously.

“What, afraid of touching me?” Your boldness made Eddie blanch in surprise, and from the corner of your eye you spotted the way his free hand clenched into a fist. As if to make a point, you reached for it and set it comfortably atop your thigh before returning your attentive stare to his face.

Finding his voice, Eddie licked his dry lips and responded simply, “You don’t like when people touch you.”

You didn’t miss a beat as you said, “I like when you do.”

Eddie’s heart drummed wildly in his chest; god, he wished you two weren’t crossfaded right now. He knew coming to this party meant repeating shit that happened at the last one, that it would make things even more confusing and overly complicated. Even since homecoming night he’d been nervously wondering what the hell was going on between you two; so many interactions had felt charged with things unsaid, had felt tense with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

And now this? The way you looked at him as if he were the sun, the way you touched his chest as if you didn’t want to break him? Suddenly, Eddie realized that maybe this shit wasn’t pretend anymore. If he hadn’t been quite so inebriated, he could have kept you at arm's length, could have made sure that nothing was going to happen tonight.

But Eddie wasn’t sober, and neither were you, and he was damn near ready to let just about anything happen between you two.

“Hey, Munson,” Someone urged with a nudge to Eddie’s shoulder, pulling the both of you out of your shared reverie. Eddie blinked a few times to reorient himself before looking at the kid next to him, who held out the nearly finished joint. As if in a slight daze, Eddie took it, eyes drifting back to yours while slowly bringing the joint to his mouth.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched Eddie through hooded eyes. It was as if everything was in slow motion; the way the joint glowed a beautiful orange as he deeply inhaled, chest rising as he held the smoke in and blindly offered the joint to the person next to him, too wrapped up in the way you were ogling him to pull his eyes away.

The intensity in the way Eddie held your gaze was like a magnet, and really you weren’t sure which of you leaned in first, or if you two had done so in-sync. Your hands trailed up Eddie’s torso, cupping his cheeks tenderly as his fingers squeezed hungrily into your thigh; your noses brushed, still gazing at one another before, finally, no distance was left between you.

Your lips locked in an aching, open-mouthed kiss, Eddie sighing as the smoke slowly rolled from his lungs into yours. Your grip on his face tightened as you became wrapped up in the taste of weed and booze and the smell of his skin, his hands possessively clinging to you as if afraid to let go now that he had you.

As smoke began to trail from your nose, your lips became firm and insistent against Eddie’s, a desperate little sound humming in your throat. A rush of warmth flooded through you and pooled at your center as Eddie held you even tighter, kissing you as if you were the goddamn air he breathed, with a sloppy fervor that made your head spin. His lips were intoxicating, more so than anything you’d consumed all night, and your fingers began to tangle in his hair with a near lustful aggression, to which he moaned lowly into the kiss.

“Jesus, will you two get a room,” Someone in the group commented in a tone that was both disgusted and amused, causing laughter to peel out amongst your peers. You were almost too consumed by Eddie to even notice, but luckily he had enough sense about him to pull his lips from yours with a slight pop, his eyes shooting in the direction of whoever interrupted you.

Catching your breath, you stared at Eddie’s face as if to steady yourself, practically dizzy. Slowly, you looked around the group; some of them were trying to ignore your disgusting display of affection, some were too high to even notice in the first place, though a couple of people stared back at you with varying degrees of interest. The boy that you assumed interrupted you had a bit of a twist to his brow, and so you made a defiant face back at him; Eddie huffed out a slight laugh at it, which drew your lusty eyes back to him.

His stare was so damn dark and intense that it nearly took you aback, eyes practically black with desire; aside from that, you couldn’t quite guess what thoughts and feelings were swirling about his head. You studied his face for a moment, fingers delicately tracing their way back down his cheeks and neck to rest comfortably atop his shoulders; on the small of your back, his hand twitched a little.

Eddie continued to eye you closely, gaze carving a path of complicated desire from your head to your toe as if determined to see each and every bit of you. You were shockingly speechless, unable to even find your words thanks to the nerves in your stomach, mind swirling with weed and alcohol and a conflict of want. When Eddie’s eyes returned to yours yet again, bloodshot and hooded, there was a decided look about them.

“Come on.” He said in a husky voice; you gave a faint nod in response before rising to your feet, swaying a little upon standing. Eddie’s hands quickly grabbed yours to keep you steady, concern flashing across his eyes at how you nearly toppled over; his thumbs brushed the back of your hands in small circles, something so tender that it surprised you.

You tugged on Eddie’s hands, a silent indicator that you were fine and it was his turn to stand. As he rose to his feet, a hint of a devilish smile flashed across his lips, and he spared a quick look around the group; you could see that, even inebriated, he was about to act the showman that he usually was.

“Till next time, ladies and gents.” He said in lieu of a farewell, his tone both suggestive and teasing, as he let you pull him away from the crowd with a giggle.

Making your way back into the house, you barely noticed that the party was slowly beginning to dwindle, barely noticed that the music had gotten a little quieter and the smoky haze wasn’t nearly as thick; your mind was far too preoccupied with Eddie, wanting to drag his lips back to yours as soon as possible.

As Eddie took the lead and began to guide you past other partygoers, you realized you didn’t know what his plan was or where he was taking you; considering that he’d never been to the Hunter house before, you figured he didn’t have a clue either. You held firm to his arm as Eddie led you down a hall, a drunken smirk crossing your lips as he looked back at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

He pushed open an ajar door, pulling you into what must have been an office considering the heavy, rich wooden desk and bookshelves. Closing the door behind you, Eddie didn’t bother with the lights, guiding you blindly until your rear bumped the edge of the desk; he braced his palms on either side of you, pinning you there. His head dipped down close to yours, foreheads practically brushing as he looked between your eyes despite the darkness, once more trying to make sense of something.

From this close, you could make out the curve of Eddie’s lips and the shadowed panes of his face; you bit the inside of your cheek, nervous yet eager, waiting to see what he planned to do or say now that he had you alone. Suddenly, you were feeling a hint more sober, as if the crowd was your safety blanket that had been abruptly taken from you, leaving you to fend for yourself under Eddie's intense stare.

“Why do you keep kissing me?” He asked in a low, almost needy voice that made you shiver, drawing your eyes back to his.

You licked your lips, torn now that you were confronted with the question so blatantly. The moments ticked by slowly as you ran through the endless ways of answering that; as if you could feel Eddie raising an impatient brow at you, you took a deep breath in preparation.

“Because I like to.” You answered oh-so simply, and yet the weight of the words felt heavy as ever between you two. You could hear the sharp breath Eddie took in response, knowing his eyes still bore into yours despite you struggling to make out his face in the dark.

“Why?” It was asked as if he were at odds with himself, as if there was so much more he wanted to say but chose not you.

You dropped your gaze, staring at what you could see of Eddie's chest in the darkness, swallowing nervously; you were so ill-prepared to be having this discussion. Was there something in the air, because this was the second time you were cornered for a serious talk despite it being Halloween night.

Feeling your apprehension, Eddie sighed as if he understood exactly what was going on in your head. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot on your face, and you took a deep inhale at just how close to his lips were to yours; was he taunting you, antagonizing you so that you'd finally explain yourself to him? You sighed at the sensation of his lips needily ghosting against yours, feeling the way he smiled at the sound. Suddenly, you wished that you’d made one more stop in the kitchen - a shot would do wonders for your nerves right about now.

God, the temptation to reach up and kiss him again was insane, despite another part of you wanting to retreat from this entire conversation, far too nervous and worked up. It was as if Eddie could tell you were growing antsy, because he moved in even closer, pinning you against the desk; your breath hitched at the feel of his body practically on top of yours.

“Gonna leave me hanging, princess?” He asked in a low voice. You leaned back a little as if that could somehow create distance between the two of you, but you already knew it was a moot point. Eddie’s arms moved in even closer on either side of you, his knuckles grazing against your hips as he kept you trapped. In a meager effort to bolster yourself, you crossed your arms and tried to raise your chin confidently, despite the wild beating of your heart in your chest; you could just see the glint of light off Eddie’s teeth as he smiled at your nerves.

You finally found your voice, trying to sound brave, “Why do you kiss me back?”

A laugh sounded in Eddie’s throat, as if the answer was blatantly obvious and he didn’t have to say it. He shook his head, eyes shining in the sliver of moonlight as he looked at you; his expression was deathly serious, and yet, you could see a pleased look as he responded, “Because I like to.”

The repeating of your own words made you shiver, warmth pooling in your center as you sharply inhaled. Your arms slacked, falling to your sides, fingertips brushing against Eddie’s forearms. You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat as his answer began to feel heavier and heavier the more you thought about it.

Did he just… admit that he felt the same way as you? And did he understand all the implications in your own confession? Or had you not made yourself clear enough, did Eddie misunderstand this as purely a physical thing going on between you two? The overthinking was already driving you mad.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out - you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, really, because you had about a hundred things already swirling around in your head. Eddie was still so close, his body heat practically enveloping you, his mouth mere inches away, taunting you and enticing you.

Licking your lips, you finally managed to ask in a tone that was both wanting and uneasy, “Then… this isn’t fake?”

You could hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he whispered, “You tell me, princess.”

You practically shivered again, tempted to drag his lips back to yours hungrily, but your head was still spinning. Every interaction with Eddie up to this point suddenly came under your scrutiny - each and every glance and laugh and brush of your hands, all the time you spent together, all the things said between you.

Suddenly, you wondered if this had ever truthfully been fake, considering that, in a way, you and Eddie had gone through the exact motions anyone would when they started dating. The time spent alone, getting to know one another, sharing secrets with each other, having in-jokes and things only the two of you could laugh at - was that not dating? Hell, even the times you kissed - whether drunken or for show - were never truly false, at least not on your part.

Eddie could feel all your nerves and anxieties spilling out of you, a tension building the longer you considered everything, the longer you hesitated to answer; it was making him apprehensive, too, wondering if maybe he fucked up just now, wondering if this wasn’t the right time or way to admit his feelings. He tried so hard to be confident about it, to make things a little more clear, but why was he starting to feel like he fumbled that?

You laughed smally, unexpectedly, causing Eddie to furrow his brow despite knowing you couldn’t see his face in the dark. Although you were edgy and tense, you tipped your head back a little, knowing that you were but a breath away from Eddie as you laughed airily again as if amused by something. Feeling the question in his energy, you bit the inside of your cheek before speaking again.

“Should’ve known that D&D game was suspicious…” You whispered with good humor, shaking your head as you recalled the way you two had used the safety of your characters to communicate with one another. Eddie, too, chuckled smally, his forehead unintentionally brushing against yours as he looked down.

“I figured you were just playing along.”

“No.” You murmured, faintly shaking your head again. Now that you were already being vulnerable, you plucked up a little more courage, taking a deep breath before asking, “What was that song?”

Eddie’s curls tickled against your skin, “Song?”

You smiled tensely, “The, uh… song from that night in the van.”

Eddie straightened up with surprise, though you instantly assumed you fucked up somehow by asking. Your eyes grew wide, half expecting him to back away from you, hands about ready to reach out and grab him before he could make a retreat. But instead, he chuckled devilishly, turning his face up towards the ceiling as a deep exhale passed between his lips.

“Oh, I knew it.” Eddie seemed to be muttering to himself before trying to find your eyes again in the dark; there was a sudden jittery quality to his energy, a sudden electricity sparking off of him, “I knew you remembered.”

And before you had the chance to answer him, Eddie swooped in, hungrily capturing your lips with his own in a fierce kiss as his body pinned you against the desk. Your heart stuttered wildly, momentarily frozen in surprise before your senses came back to you.

Feverish and needy, you flung your arms tightly around Eddie’s neck, kissing him with all the pent up desire that you’d been harboring for weeks. Your nails scratched at the base of his skull, causing him to moan while tightly winding his arms around your middle, hands firm and greedy against the small of your back. His touch was fucking intoxicating, body warm against yours, lips desperate and zealous; it put your mind in a frenzy, your senses on high as a coil began to tighten in your stomach.

You broke away for a split second, hopping up onto the desk before dragging Eddie’s lips back to yours as if you needed him to breathe, spreading your knees so that he could slot himself between them. He sighed achingly at the way your thighs tightened on either side of him, your ankles hooking around the back of his legs as if to lock him there.

Eddie’s kisses were fierce and full of yearning, fingers digging into your skin as he slipped his tongue past your lips; with an eager moan, you rolled your body against his, hands winding tightly in his hair. You could feel the way his breath hitched, which only encouraged you to grind your hips again, nice and deep and slow; a groan rumbled in his throat at your taunting, hands flexing as if he wanted to touch you everywhere all at once.

God, you wished that you’d pulled your head out of your ass sooner so you could've been kissing Eddie unabashed all this time; you fit together so damn perfectly, bodies melding together and lips locked with matched intensity as if you were made for each other. Your center felt tight and your toes curled, your knees weak and mouth needy as you clung to Eddie as if you planned on never letting go.

Is this how it was supposed to feel - passionate and untamed and ardent, as if you were fucking burning for him? You’d never wanted anything the way that you craved Eddie right now, and this mad desire was making your head spin.

Eddie tried to pull his lips from yours, but you hungrily gave chase, continuing to kiss him even as he smiled and laughed at your desperation; he cupped your cheeks tenderly in his hands just so he could hold you back, gaze attempting to find yours in the dark of the room. You caught your breath together, chests heaving deeply, the sound of the party just on the other side of the door bringing you back to yourself.

Sliding his hands down your neck and arms, Eddie grabbed your wrists and tugged you off the desk, blindly guiding you through the dark. He captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, causing you to laugh as the two of you fumbled about the room until he evidently found what he was searching for - Eddie fell back into a chair and dragged you along with him. You nearly gasped in surprise as you plopped into his lap, readjusting until you were straddling him, all the while refraining from breaking out of the kiss.

Eddie’s hungry moans and wandering hands made you shiver, pressing desperately against his body and kissing him deeply. You rolled your hips rousingly, the twitch of his cock causing a delighted sound to hum in your throat; Eddie’s fingers dug into your waist, holding you tight as he pressed up against you with a hint of trepidation, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself. You laughed faintly at his uncertainty, swiping your tongue along his lower lip encouragingly as you clung a little tighter to him.

You rutted your hips again, slower and more assertive, practically sighing at the feel of Eddie growing harder beneath you. The desire for him stirred memories of your wet dream, moaning as you felt that coil winding tight again, pressing yourself more firmly against Eddie; he muttered longingly into your lips, words incoherent and broken up by the severity of your kiss.

You pulled away from Eddie’s lips, pressing your forehead to his as you caught your breath and twisted your fingers in his hair. Slowly, you grinded your body against his, each roll of your hips deep and wanton, feeling your desire already growing slick between your legs. The moan that left your mouth was vulgar when Eddie pressed himself up against you, your head tipping back at your body’s eager response.

Eddie’s lips forged a hot trail down your neck, one hand sliding up the back of your shirt while the other squeezed your thigh; it was as if electricity was shooting through you, faintly gasping as his teeth nipped uncertainly against your skin. Emboldened, you began rutting your hips against Eddie’s cock at a tantalizing pace, the friction so damn good even between all these layers of fabric. When he moaned against your neck, it only made you grind a little harder, toes curling as you tugged eagerly at his hair.

Had the weeks of build up really made you this sensitive? You were fully clothed and dry humping, yet already your pussy was clenching, your arousal growing with each breath and kiss and grind as if you were a goddamn virgin. And the way Eddie clung to you, the way he moaned and sighed with such yearning, was making it that much harder to keep it together - his hitched breaths and grabbing hands only encouraged you to chase that insatiable desire of yours.

You impatiently untangled your fingers from Eddie’s hair, fussing with the buttons down the front of your shirt, grumbling a little when you struggled with some of them; you could feel the way he smiled into your kiss with amusement. Once the shirt had been discarded, you excitedly cupped Eddie’s cheeks, kissing him deeply and earnestly, body pressed against his with such pining that one might think you were afraid he’d disappear. His hands were hot against your back, sliding from your shoulder blades down to your waist, his fingertips seemingly memorizing the feel of your skin; when they grazed the sensitive spot on your lower back, you arched into him with a sharp inhale, and so he held you even tighter.

You broke away from Eddie’s lips again, gazing down at him through hooded eyes, finally able to make out his features a little better thanks to the moonlight; he looked back up at you with such awe that your grinding stuttered, taken aback by the way he drank you in. His parted lips were inviting you back in for a kiss, but you were far too enthralled in the sight of him, enjoying the lustful look on his face as you tried to find a deeper rhythm for your hips.

The whispering of your name in Eddie’s mouth made you gasp amorously, his tone low and doting like it was a goddamn prayer. Your hands held firmer on either side of his neck as you tried not to come undone right then and there, so damn easily that it was near maddening. Eddie’s head dropped back against the chair cushion when your grinding became a little more feverish, hands gripping your hips so tight that you thought it may bruise. You pressed your hot center even more salaciously against the thick outline of his cock, the both of you moaning even more shamelessly in unison.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head once you found that perfect angle of your hips, the stimulation against your clit making you gasp more wildly and cling to Eddie more desperately. Your toes began to curl as your back arched, keeping at your erotic rhythm now that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer at near whiplash speed. Eddie, too, tried to match the grinding of his hips to yours, chasing after the mounting pleasure with deep moans and clinging hands, incoherent words of rapture falling past his lips.

“Fuck, wait-- wait--” Eddie abruptly dug his fingers into your skin, holding firm in an attempt to stop the rutting of your hips, to push you away from his cock. You whined indecently at the loss of friction, searching Eddie’s face in the dark with a confused - even a little galled - furrow of your brow. He panted heavily, head still resting back and hands still holding you desperately as he tried to compose himself.

A breathy laugh passed Eddie’s lips before he finally lifted his head to meet your eyes, a hooded look of contentment across his face. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile as one of his hands trailed up your side, fingers gentle against your neck and jaw as he studied you; your expression was still a little confused and selfish as you took him in.

“You got me way too close,” He said airily, tone amused yet still lustful; he took another deep, grounding breath, “really didn’t want to make a mess of myself at a damn party.”

Eddie laughed again almost as if he was in disbelief, and you couldn’t help but giggle as well, grabbing either side of his face and holding him tenderly. The way he looked up at you with some kind of amazement made you squirm, his unabashed look of awe feeling nearly unwarranted. You licked your lips and swallowed, finding your voice again.

“Let’s go, then.” You answered simply, tone husky with desire; you leaned in a little closer, lips hovering just an inch away from his. Eddie’s fingers flexed against you, his sigh brushing across your cheeks. You pulled him in for one more eager, firm kiss, as if you needed it to hold you over till the two of you were long gone from this Halloween party.

addt. Author's Note | chapter 16, my beloved 😭🖤 We've only got another chapter and epilogue after this, so I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts~

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #dos and donts #a fics*

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