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muniimyg · 3 months

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10.5: love 》 series m.list

note: we made it !!! i am so incredibly grateful for everyone's love and support with c2u <3 meeting u all was so fun ,, answering ur asks and interacting thru comments truly made my day ! i'm glad i was able to share this silly goofy concept and have it well received . as usual ,, please lmk ur thots !!! i have 3 extras that will be posted soon (ie: their first hook up, a comfort scenario, and one final smut extra) so please look forward to those !!! thank u for ur patience ,, all the love 💗

warnings: sex tape vibes (kind of), pussy eating (nom nom), fucking LOL ... dirty talk & creampie! easy shit yk? lmaoo

taglist request: CLOSED

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

As much as Jungkook loves to play soccer for the glory, he loves it best alone.

When the bleachers are empty and the field is wide and free—that’s when he feels the most love for his sport. To others, it comes off as lonely and sad but to him; it’s serenity. Sometimes, it’s the only place he feels like he can truly be himself. It’s a place where he doesn’t have to be anything to anyone. It’s a place where he can be lost and found at the same time. It’s also his go-to place when he can’t sleep. Jungkook hasn’t slept well in weeks. He figured it was time to be in his own space.

His haven.

His favourite part has got to be when he plays so hard that he doesn’t even notice the world is waking up. The moment Jungkook looks up and sees the sunrise—he always gets this feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s an easiness that can’t be explained.

It’s an incredible relief.

When he sees the sun, he stops playing. He takes a break and sits down to watch the sun bloom on the horizon. There’s so much bliss in the stillness of the world. He feels so much clarity when it’s just him, the net, and the ball. It’s like nothing else matters and his mind can focus on one thing: winning.

Jungkook has only done these late-night sessions a handful of times in his life.

The first time was the day before Uni tryouts and he doubted his talent. Everyone kept telling him he had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t make him feel any better. To Jungkook, his luck was just like everybody’s. He was afraid of it not coming through when he needed it the most. Therefore, he worked his ass off regardless of his luck history.

Note: Jungkook was the first in his year to get in.

The second time was when he fucked up at a game and cost his team a minor setback. It wasn’t the end of the world—he just felt like shit.

The third time was the day he redeemed himself and scored the winning goal that got the team to championships. It was the best game he had in a while. It was also the first time felt tired of it. Tired of the game, tired of the play… Just tired.

The fourth time was when he decided to take a break from soccer and tend to his burnout… Eventually, he came back after a few months. Of course, he did. He loves soccer more than anything in the world…

That was until you.

He didn’t go back to the field and have a session to himself to celebrate. No, he celebrated with you instead. You didn’t know and he never told you… But that’s what he did. The first day he came back to soccer, he went to you right after. With you, he found rest.

That’s when he realized something…

He wasn’t tired anymore.

At least, whenever he was with you.

He wasn’t tired. That’s all he could really ask for, right? To fall in love with someone that was his safety net.

The fifth time would be today.

Jungkook has been out here since 3AM, kicking the ball and practicing drills. It upset him, to be honest. He thought being here would help ease his heart. Everything feels so clogged up and messy to him. It’s like no matter what he does to try to clean up his mess, everything stains. So, he thinks to himself that maybe if he ran enough laps or kicked the ball hard enough—it would stop.

The mess.

The yearning.

The loving.

But it doesn’t.

No, instead his heart continues to ache. As he clenches it every so often, he thinks of you. Then, for a second, his heart is still. In the stillness, he tries to think of good things around him.

At least the rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it was an hour ago.

At least the sun is coming up and it’s a new day.

At least you were here—

Wait.

You’re here?

Jungkook rubs his eyes. Partly due to disbelief and partly because the rain made it hard to see you clearly. Yet, somehow… In his heart, he knows it. He knows it’s you.

How’d you know where he was? More importantly, why are you here?

Why was his heart racing so fast again?

Be still.

He isn’t sure of what to do. Should he wave? Should he call your name? Are you here on accident?

Considering it’s almost 6AM… It can’t be an accident, right?

Just as much as Jungkook’s head begins to fill with questions, yours does too. As you walk closer and closer to him, you can’t help but only hear your heartbeat pound louder and louder. Is this normal? To feel like your heart could jump out of your chest if it meant getting to him faster? You let your mind spin.

Why the fuck are you here?

What are you doing again?

Did you write everything down?

You sure felt a lot braver ten minutes ago… Suddenly, seeing him has made you doubt all the courage you worked to have for this moment. At the same time, the complex feeling of pure happiness and relief blossoms. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him. There’s a stillness in the world and it’s only when you look at him and it’s good. You know that now… But oh my god.

You’re about to lose your shit.

How did you get here?

When did it all begin?

Was it from the first night you two slept together? Or was it the karaoke night when you realized you were waiting for him to kiss you? Could it be time he fucked you in front of your mirror and you vowed to never drink coffee before meeting up with him ever again?

… No.

Maybe it was when Mina came along.

You gave him a blowjob just to stall him from going (bad move, by the way. That was pretty bitchy). Oh, and we can’t forget about the time you craved him when you were drunk out of your mind and all he did was take care of you. Half asleep, you woke up to him mounting your mirror on the wall… And well, maybe…

Maybe it was then.

When he fixed your mirror, he fixed your heart.

That’s probably why the time you two hooked up in his bedroom at the party felt so right. It was finally clicking.

You were into him then.

You just didn’t know how to admit it. Then, it got fucked up because you were caught off guard.

The perilla leaf.

The exile.

The hate sex.

Everything good and bad has led to this moment and you can’t help but feel like you’re falling apart. Finding the origin of it all feels exhausting… In your head, you debate it all. In your heart, you’ve always known.

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The friendship, the sleeping with him, the hurting him—the loving him… It wasn’t supposed to do this to you. You aren’t supposed to be this nervous and so impatient at the same time. You aren’t supposed to feel this stupid either…

But you do.

… And that’s okay.

Sometimes, with love, you’re going to feel a little stupid. You just have to cross your fingers and hope the person you’re being stupid for is just as stupid as you.

In your case… There’s a good chance he is.

As you stand on the sidelines, Jungkook places his hand over his eyes to see you clearer. He tilts his head in confusion as you drop your bag.

Then, just like that…

It happens.

His thoughts pause, his heart goes still for the nth time, and his world slows down as he takes in the sight of you. Nothing will ever be better than this. The same way he feels an ease when he watches the sunrise—he feels it as he looks at you right now.

God, he loves you so much.

He has known it for so long but this… You in this moment; it’s bliss.

Complete and utter bliss.

If that isn’t enough… His heart is completely undone the moment he realizes two things: one, you’re wearing his jersey, and two; you’re holding a towel in your arms for him. He can’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. All that shit you said about how you would never be a part of his fan club and how you could never be that girl…

Oh, this is gold.

Honestly, it’s more than enough. For you to show up and make this effort—it fills his heart. Yet, you’re you. Always full of surprises and ways of making his heart go on overdrive. As he sinks in his thoughts and soaks this moment in; he watches you take a deep breath. Then, slowly but surely, you extend your hand out to him.

It’s then when he knows it.

The wait was worth it.

The wait is over.

You and Jungkook sit on a bench, under the technical area’s cover. For a while, you two watch the sunrise in silence. Both too afraid to say anything to ruin the moment—both so undoubtedly in love. Once the sun is fully up, you brace yourself.

This is it.

Jungkook turns to you, chasing your eyes.

“You nervous or something?” he jokes, as he begins to dry his hair with the towel you placed around his neck.

“Yeah,” you confide. “Am I doing this right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as you scoot closer to him and take the towel. In your continued silence, you take over and start to dry his hair. Scrunching the towel, you pat dry his neck and cheeks. He gulps, unsure of what to do… He likes it though. He likes that you’re taking care of him and that you’re trying. He knows you are.

As you pat dry him, you try to find your words. It takes a moment, but you think to yourself… It’s now or never, right? You’re already here. You’ve already folded.

It catches Jungkook off guard when you suddenly tug him close. Putting the towel aside, you cup his cheeks with your hands. Your hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s holding himself back from kissing them. With a pout on your lips, you begin your confession.

“I hate being your friend.”

Jungkook squints at you and chuckles. He removes your hands from his cheeks, smirking at you. “What bullshit are you on now? Didn’t we agree on—”

“I never agreed,” your eyebrows knit together. “It’s been like… A day and a half and I’m going crazy being your stupid friend.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Enemies?”

His suggestion annoys you.

You lift your hand to hit him, but he catches your wrist. Then, he opens his hands for you. You sigh teasingly but take it. Intertwining your fingers together, you two sit in silence again for a moment.

Holding hands, watching as the rain pours, and preparing to give your hearts to one another… It feels like this could be a dream.

“Tae and Yuna, ” you begin, breaking the silence. Your voice sounds weary and desperate. “They’ve been friends since the very beginning. He always had feelings for her and she did too… But she didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. He’s dating Mina’s friend now or something—it’s so messed up. It’s so unfair, y-you know? They deserve each other so much and I—”

“Breathe,” Jungkook comforts you. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want that to be us,” you blurt.

Jungkook blinks at you.

“It’s so scary. Jungkook, I don’t want that to be us… B-but it is us, isn’t it? Y-you hate me because of—“

His eyebrows knit together. “___, I don’t hate you. Don’t say that.”

Your lips quiver, unsure of how to navigate through this talk. Maybe you should have planned it better. Maybe you should have written this whole speech out instead of word-vomiting like this… But that’s the thing.

You aren’t good at this.

Regardless, you’ll try for him.

“I’ve been selfish,” you admit, letting your eyes dart to the field. You can’t look at him. It feels too overwhelming to. “I’ve been inconsiderate and I know I can’t justify my actions because they hurt you—I just need you to know that I was scared. It was so scary trusting you, falling asleep beside you, and waking up next to you. It was so scary watching you laugh with other girls and not knowing how to tell you how I felt… I’m sorry I started fights while trying to figure out how I felt about myself… Honestly? I think I was so scared because you made it so easy.”

A beat.

“T-the truth is… I’ve always known how I felt about you.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile. He wonders if you know what you’re doing to him… Do you? He’s afraid you don’t.

“Really?” he pries, moving closer to you. “How do you feel about me?”

Attempting to be intimidating, you turn to face him with a glare.

“D-don’t push it.”

Jungkook pouts. “But I want to know… Please, please, please?”

For a moment you contemplate. Then, you look at him and take it all in. His wet hair, soft eyes, and pouting lips… How were you ever strong enough to say no to him before? Truly, you’re a changed woman.

Curling your fist, you shut your eyes and say it. You tell him the whole truth.

You give him your heart.

“You said you got ahead of yourself… But have you ever considered that I was beside you the entire time? L-like you said you’ve had feelings for me since the first time you made me laugh… Me too. I knew it then too. I just didn’t know what to do because every time I dated guys, it all felt the same… With you, it was different from the start. I don’t know how to explain it… All I know is that I like you in every way it’s possible to like someone—I like you. My heart has been yours all along. I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you. It just felt like everything with you kept falling into place and I was terrified I was f-falling too… I think—n-no, I… Umm, I know that I…”

Something others may not know about Jungkook is that he’s consistently bad at one thing. That one thing is playing it cool when it comes to you. He has to fight his inner demons to stop himself from professing his love for you every 10 minutes. So, it would be a lie that he wasn’t loving this. He loves watching you feel what he feels.

Your words, sweet and well-awaited, completely captivate him.

He can’t help it when you’re like this. So perfect, so cute, so his. He can’t resist!

Which is why he kisses you mid-confession.

Jungkook kisses you slowly and deeply. Like never before, you lose your breath from how passionately he kisses you. Once you two pull away, he rests his forehead against yours. Smiling, he sneaks in a couple more kisses.

Timidly, you say, “So… You aren’t mad at me anymore?”

With a laugh, Jungkook shakes his head. “God, you drive me crazy.”

“So… That’s a no, right?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and purses his lips. You press your lips against them and kiss him once more.

“___?”

“Y-yeah?”

“... I checked my phone a moment ago and Yuna ratted you out. She texted me like ten minutes before you came. Said if you don't show up I should knock on your door and fuck your feelings out of you.” You gasp, burying your face with your hands. Sighly dramatically, Jungkook makes a cheeky comment. “Once again, I waited for you.”

You hit his chest playfully. In pure disbelief, you groan at him. “What? Y-you knew and still made me do the whole speech—”

"I didn’t know!” You ignore his claim. “Although, I wouldn't have had any issue fucking the feelings out of you—"

"Are you insane?" you fume. "I was literally sick to my stomach trying to get this confession thing done right!"

“I was excited!” He teases, and nudges you. You remain annoyed at him. Jungkook can’t help but find it cute. “Awh, ___! Come on. It’s not every day that a guy gets to see his girl in his jersey, holding a towel for him on the sidelines! Also… I just really wanted to see what all your fuss was about. I promise, I didn’t know.”

It’s too late.

Just as you stand up and storm away from the embrassment, Jungkook catches up to you. Out on the field, the rain continues to pour on you two. Drying him off was useless if you were going to be this dramatic.

As he catches your wrist, you shove him away and cross your arms.

“I feel stupid,” you sigh. “Y-you knew how I felt about you. I was worried and anxious the entire time and y-you knew!”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and can’t believe how feisty you are. It’s entertaining and frustrating at the same time. God, you were so complex… But at the same time, he knows you’re just afraid. This is you finding an out. This is also you trying to stay.

He takes your hand.

You don’t shake him off say anything.

You let him take it.

He holds it like it’s all he has ever wanted to do (it is all he has ever wanted to do).

“I didn’t know everything! Hey, the fuss was cute,” he ensures you. “Do it again.”

“No!” you cry, feeling your clothes start to stick to your skin. It’s pouring now and you instantly regret being dramatic.

Except, Jungkook looks so perfect. His hair is wet and his shirt is soaked so you can see the way his muscles curve. He’s so handsome that you have to gather all your strength as a woman to keep yourself from jumping on him.

“This shit is so hard!” you complain through the rain. “How did you do this? You confessed like every time we fucked—”

“Yah!” Jungkook warns, feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe he should be the one to storm away now… “Be nice to me or else I’m about to reject you.”

You roll your eyes at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you tug him to your eye level. Happily, he complies.

“Do it then,” you call his bluff. “Reject me right now.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, loving the way you look at him. He blinks at you slowly and bites his inner cheek. For a moment, he’s silent. You’d think he’s contemplating or something… But he’s not. He’s been sure about you since your first laugh, remember?

“Kinda cruel considering you’re all I’ve been waiting for,” Jungkook confesses, as he dips his head low and kisses you.

As he kisses you, you squeeze his hand. Holding his hand tighter, he smiles into the kiss. The rain continues to pour, making everything feel unreal. As he pulls away, he looks at you the way he always has… This time, you get what Yuna was talking about.

The warmth in his gaze.

The love in it.

The you in it.

After what felt like endless heartache with other boys—this felt healing.

This was yours.

Him.

And that’s when your heart tells you something you never knew…

You waited well too.

You two escape the rain and make it to your place.

In your bedroom, you quickly get undressed and sit in front of your mirror to dry your hair. Jungkook comes out of the washroom all clean. Passing by you, he plants a kiss on the top of your head. You watch from the mirror as he reaches inside your closet for one of his shirts.

Your high from the moment at the field suddenly dies. Suddenly, you realize the confession wasn’t enough to move forward. For fucks sake, he has his clothes in your closet.

“Jungkook?” you ask cutely.

“Mhmm?” he responds as he dresses himself.

You almost choke on your words. “What are we?”

He grins, coming back to you and swaying you side to side. Without batting an eye, he answers: “friends, of course!”

Instantly, you push him away. Your shoulders slump as you glare at him. He laughs his ass off, loving the way you reacted. When he calms down, he kneels in front of you and apologizes.

“Okay, bestie,” you play along as he gets up. “Should we eat perilla leaves to celebrate?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops. His eye practically twitches at the mention of perilla leaves.

Throwing his hands up dramatically, he cries, “Oh god... My girlfriend is so mean to me… She’s so hot, holy shit.”

Girlfriend.

That sounds about right.

He’s so big.

Sometimes, you forget that.

It slips your mind because Jungkook has always been a giver. You never really had to worry about it being uncomfortable. He makes sure you cum first and always puts his needs above yours—tonight was a prime example of just that.

As he towers over you, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips. Each kiss is so soft and intimate, your pussy clenches at his very touch. It doesn’t help when he places his thumb on your clit, rubbing and stretching it out to stimulate you even more. As you moan into his ear, he feels shivers go down his back.

You gasp as he bites your skin, enticing you to want him even more.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “put it in, please.”

“Mhmm,” he moves the hair strands on your face and kisses you. “Be good for me, okay? Be patient. Gonna fuck you good so I need you to be on your best behaviour.”

“B-best behaviour,” you repeat rather lewdly. “Okay… W-whatever you want, love. You have it. You have me.”

Love.

God, you and your fucking words.

Jungkook bites his bottom lip, trying his best to take his time. Truth be told, he wants to fuck you silly right now. He wants you so bad that your legs won’t work and he’ll have to tend to your soreness. He wants to fuck you so good that you scream his name and lose yourself in him… But he’ll take his time tonight.

He wants to show you so much. He wants to show you how good he can make you feel. How you won’t ever regret your decision of being with him. He wants to show you what kind of man you chose and what kind of man you get to have.

A good man.

A man that has wanted you for so long that now that he has you—oh was he ready to drag it out.

Jungkook gently places his dick in between your folds. It’s hard and thick. You can feel it against your wet pussy and want nothing more than for him to put it in. Instead, Jungkook lifts himself and sits in between your legs. There, he holds the base of his cock and slaps it against your pussy. He rubs his cock up and down your folds. Then, he splits them open with his fingers and spits on it. He then spreads his spit with his cock. You feel so lucky when he pokes it inside once in a while. Like a tease, he takes it out so quickly that you begin to feel frustrated.

“P-put it in, please…”

Jungkook smirks.

“Put what in?”

You glare at him.

“Your hard, thick, stupid cock. Put it in my wet, needy, desperate pussy right now… Please?”

Jungkook lets out a sexy chuckle. “Not yet,” he tells you, as he fully stops. He then moves over and helps you sit up. Leaning against your headboard, he spreads your legs. Just when you think you can predict his next move, he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs his phone. Unlocking it, he passes it to you.

“Film me.”

You nod, following his orders.

Tapping record, you angle the camera to your pussy. You watch through the phone screen as Jungkook positions his face in between your legs. Gulping, you throw your head back as he makes his first lick.

Jungkook holds onto your thighs, helping you keep your legs open. He digs himself into your pussy, devouring every inch of it. To deepen himself, he digs his nose in and curls his tongue as he licks you. When he pulls away for air, he sucks on your clit making sure to keep you on your toes.

“Oohhh,” you sob. “S-so good. J-Jungkook—“

“Mhmm,” he murmurs onto your skin. “Tastes so good.”

“A-aghhh! Oh my god!”

The thing is… Jungkook has eaten you out before.

But this was different.

It was slow and sensual. The way he licks you and eats you out just feels so surreal. Your toes curl, your stomach winces, and your pussy tightens as you’re about to climax—

Jungkook pulls away.

He has a devilish look on his face. You stop the recording and toss his phone aside. Suddenly, he takes hold of your ankles and tugs you down. On your back, you open your arms and welcome him in again. Gladly, he buries himself in your breasts and moans at your softness.

“That was—“

“Everything my girl deserves,” he tells you sweetly. “My girl…”

“Your girl,” you pull him in for a kiss. “All yours..”

Jungkook moans, unable to stop himself. He lifts his hips, making space for him to quickly pump his cock before guiding it inside you.

… And oh my god.

He feels so good.

Him inside you is so fulfilling and healing.

“You okay?”

You nod, mesmorized by the man he is.

“More than.”

With that, Jungkook kisses you and begins to fuck you. He thrusts in and out, making you feel his entire length with each stroke. Your body takes him in as if it’s welcoming him home. As he feeds you your craving, he picks up the pace. You wrap your legs around him, moaning from how good it feels as he buries himself in you.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook hisses. “Love this. Feels so good.”

“Mhmm,” you whimper. “J-just like that!”

Jungkook continues to fuck you, drilling himself deeper and deeper. Soon, you’re chanting his name and his ego begins to boom.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you… And you know it. You can feel it. To express so, you claw his back. Digging your nails deeper and deeper, holding him close.

“N-nghhh! I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, pretty girl. You behaved so well,” he praises. “Proud of you.”

Your heart flutters.

Then, your pussy clenches as you release. He feels it. Jungkook groans, accepting that this round will be over soon. There will be plenty more, for sure. As he pumps inside you lazily, cautious of being sensitive to your climax but also because he’s hitting his.

Then, he creams your pussy. It oozes out, but he pumps himself a few more times to stuff you.

As he spills himself onto you, he lets out heavy breaths and collapses on top of you. You let him catch his breath there as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“I love you,” you confess.

“Good… I was hoping you would.” Jungkook lets out a tired laugh. “I love you too, ___. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything I’ve ever loved.”

You hold him tighter.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. “Love, we are not going to play that game.”

Tilting your head at him. “Why not? It’s true.”

“You think you love me more than I love you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Prove it.”

With that, Jungkook laughs as you shift position. Leaving him on his back, you climb on top and straddle him. As you lift yourself to guide his dick inside, he lets out a whiney moan. You are so sexy. You are quite literally his favourite part of living.

“I’ll prove it,” you accept the challenge. “Will you last though?”

Jungkook’s lips slight part, amazed and shocked at your initiative. In response, he relaxes and gestures at your body. There’s a tightness that overcomes his entire body. It’s mixed with excitement and relief. For the nth time, he gives in.

Jungkook folds.

Happily, he gives himself to you.

“With you? Forever.”

Forever.

After 3 rounds, you two call it a night. As you drift to sleep, Jungkook holds you. Before this, you two talked as much as you could and even began to make plans. There is an indescribable comfort in being with each other.

Upcoming dates.

Better ways to communicate.

Everything and anything in between—you two want it all.

As the rain pours, Jungkook finally shuts his eyes. He pulls you closer, kissing you for the final time tonight. There would be tomorrow to kiss you anyway.

Tomorrow and the day after that… And the day after that. And the days that follow—he’d do just that.

He can’t wait to kiss you forever.

To hold your hand forever.

To love you forever.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook finds rest. His heart stays still and feels loved. Besides, this is what he has wanted to be all along—

Close to you.

#bts smau #bts smut #jk smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jk x yn #jk x oc #jungkook uni au #jk fwb #bts fwb

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loonylupinblack3 · 4 days

Text

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body.

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury.

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist.

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones.

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #xmen #x-men #xmen movie #xmen movies #x men movies #marvel #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #james howlett #x men #xavier #charles xavier

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luveline · 8 months

Note

Congrats on 40k Jade! Also hi, I hope you're having a great day (I'm really nervous this is my first time sending in a request I'm so sorry if I sound weird)

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Can I request a reader that has a bit of a temper and got told that no one would like her because of it so she's a bit insecure about herself? My favourite character is James so maybe with him or with Remus whichever you prefer (and they reassure her and it's awesome because your writing is just so awesome)

Congrats again <3

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much, you didn't sound weird at all dw ♡ fem!reader

The day has been long, your feet dragging up the steps to Remus' flat. His door sticks and the only radiator that doesn't need bleeding is the one in his bedroom, so it's cold, and you're irked. You kick out of your pinching shoes and hang your jacket up, which falls on the floor. You pick it up and it falls again. Huffing, you put it on the sideboard and trudge down the hallway to Remus bedroom.

"Hello, my lovely," he says without looking up.

There's a notebook in his lap. He's wearing his reading glasses. If you were in a better mood you'd try to distract him by laying across his thighs. As it stands, you're fucking exhausted. You flop down in his bed and curl towards him where he's sitting against the headboard.

"Tired?" he asks.

"Mm." Tired isn't the right word, but the right word makes people cringe at you.

Today has been awful and you hate the part of you that wants to rail about it. You can't help how you feel; this anger glows molten. It makes you hate yourself, which irks you worse. You grab one of his pillows and pull it against your chest to squeeze it until your arms hurt.

"Bad day?" he asks, pen scratching.

You exhale. "A bit," you say into the pillowcase.

"Sorry, dovey," he says. There's the sound of paper leaves catching against one another and the clink of a pen put away. "What did you say? I needed to finish writing that edit down before I forgot."

You're not mad at him in particular but your voice comes out tightly strung anyhow, "I said it was a bit of a bad day."

Remus hears your tone and refuses to skirt around the issue. Not from a want to be confrontational, but a direct way of going about things. "What, are you mad at me?"

"No," you say, turning away from him.

"You seem mad."

"I think I am."

"Well, now you don't sound mad," he says, dipping down to talk into the back of your neck. "Now you sound upset. Have I upset you?"

"No, Remus," you say. Mad to sad to mad again, your shoulder and spine ache with rigidity.

All his questions didn't make you mad, but you were mad to begin with, and so what might usually be very normal turns to irritating. In the moment, you've no hope of controlling it, and, not wanting to further subject Remus to any misdirected annoyance, you shuffle out of his reach. "I just need a minute," you say.

Remus is used to your temper, though you often worry he'll grow tired of you and your big moods and throw in the towel. You count useless numbers in your head and curl your fists into balls until your bones feel like they're too big for your skin, wanting to deal with it alone.

A minute or two later and Remus reaches for your side. "I was trying to lighten the mood, and it wasn't my best work," he says, tip of his thumb drawing semi circles into your shirt.

Remus taking the blame for your emotions has you frowning, rabbit-holing into twisting thoughts. He's always been good for you and good to you, accepting of your short fuse. He's not always sunshine and lollipops himself. But, he's not angry half as often as you are. Does that bother him? People have said to you before that your temper will be the ruining of a good thing, that Remus won't want to deal with it. And it makes sense.

You don't want to deal with it either. You don't really feel like you have much choice when it comes to being mad.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Mattress springs groan as he leverages himself closer to you. Familiar, his hand sneaks under your shirt to tickle the soft roll of your stomach. He draws a slow and winding line with no end nor goal in mind, uncaring of the pouch you get laying down. Remus doesn't really care about anything that could be marked superficial. It's one of the many reasons that he's markedly the best person you know; he loves everything that you hate about yourself without hesitation. Like your anger.

"Do you want to set a rule?" he asks.

"Pardon?"

"Humour me. Let's make a condition before we have this conversation." Remus stops drawing to slide his hand between your hip and the mattress, hugging you to him. "I'll assume you're not mad at me even if you sound angry, and you can assume I don't mind."

"Do you mind?" you ask.

"Well, I don't love when you're angry, but I know it isn't at me so it won't matter."

Reassured enough to face him, you meet his eyes.

"I know I have a tendency to make it sound like I'm angry at you when I'm really mad at someone else," you say.

"That's not true. And I ask, don't I? If I think you're mad at me?" Remus' already dulcet voice drops to a murmur, words said slowly and with as much care as a person can put into words alone, "I don't know why you feel like you're such a bad person for being angry."

"Because it's all the time," you say. Your throat burns with the effort that it takes to stay intelligible.

"It's not all the time."

"It's often, and it's not fair to you."

"It's not fair to take it out on other people, and I promise you I'd let you know if you were doing that. So… could you just tell me why you're mad? Without worrying I'll take it personally."

"It's not about taking it personally, I don't want you to take it personally, but it's just– it's just ugly, isn't it?"

Remus frowns. "Honestly? I don't think so. You have to be angry sometimes. Everyone gets angry and those feelings need somewhere to go, or it'll eat you up inside and make you bitter instead. Like… okay, he'll forgive me for telling you this, but Sirius used to get into these awful angry tirades where he'd shout at nothing, you know? And I hated seeing him do it, but I wasn't sitting there thinking he was ugly for it. I just kind of hated that something was able to occupy him so heavily. And that's how I feel about it when it happens to you, dove."

"He used to?" you ask, the bridge of your nose flat to his knee.

"Yeah, he did." Remus pushes your shoulder flat to the bed beneath you and leans in to give you a kiss. The corner of your mouth takes the brunt of it.

"Did you kiss him like this, or–"

Remus laughs and hugs you, "A discussion for another day," he murmurs. He gives you a last kiss and squeeze and then sits up. "So shout at me."

"I don't want to shout at you."

"You know what I mean. Tell me what pissed you off today."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure, I like the way your eyes look anyways, when you get riled up." Remus finds your hand to hold. "Tell me, dove. I'll be angry with you."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

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nanawritesit · 8 months

Text

Obey Me! Demon Brothers: When You Wake Up From a Nightmare

tw: bad dreams, anxiety, sharing a bed, cuddling, kissing, eating food

Lucifer:

You were currently tiptoeing your way through the House of Lamentation, stumbling around in the dark. You knew the path to Lucifer’s office well, but it was still hard to navigate without any light. It also didn’t help that your heart was beating out of your chest from the dream you just had.

Finally reaching the correct door, you gathered up your courage and knocked on his door lightly.

“Come in.” he said from the other side.

You crept around his door to see him at his desk, papers sprawled out everywhere as usual. You knew you’d be more likely to find him in his office than his bedroom at this hour.

“MC, what are you doing up? You should be asleep, we have school tomorrow.” he asked in a slightly scolding tone.

So should you. You thought to yourself.

“I um…” you stammered, gaze fixed upon the floor.

He sensed your nervousness, and his tone softened. “MC, it’s alright,” he reassured, “you can tell me.”

You huffed, then straightened yourself up. “I had a bad dream, and now I can’t sleep.”

“Ah, I see…” he observed, folding his hands together. “Are you sleepy?”

You nodded sheepishly. “I am, but I’m too anxious to let myself fall back asleep.”

“Hm…” he hummed, drumming his fingers on his desk in thought. “Would it help if someone was in bed with you?”

Your heart stopped. The avatar of pride himself was offering to share a bed with you just so you could fall back asleep. Of course, you had fantasized about it several times before, but were far too shy to initiate anything with him.

“I…” you stuttered, clearing your throat. “I suppose so.”

“I was thinking about heading up to bed soon myself.” he explained. “You could join me if you’d like.”

You nodded with a small smile. “I would like that.”

He grinned. “Alright, let’s go.”

At first, it was a bit awkward. He slept on his back, and you were curled up in a ball facing away from him. You tried your best to let go of your anxiety, but it seemed to just make you feel worse.

“Lucifer?” you whispered hesitantly.

“Yes MC?”

“I’m still scared…” you admitted, feeling embarrassed. It was humiliating to tell a demon you couldn’t fall asleep because of a stupid dream.

He sighed and rolled over, putting his arms around you to spoon you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he put one arm around your waist and the other under your pillow. He draped a single leg over both of yours, then plopped his head onto the edge of your pillow.

“There, now you’re safe and protected.” he told you. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You were stiff at first, but it was surprisingly easy to lean into his touch. He really did make you feel safe. He smelled like coffee and vanilla, and was so warm…

Before you knew it, your eyelids were starting to feel heavy again, and you were drifting off to sleep without a care.

“Goodnight my dear.” he whispered, somehow sensing that you were about to pass out. You hummed in response, making him chuckle before nodding off himself.

Mammon:

You woke up in a cold sweat, turning on your bedside lamp quickly to make sure nothing was after you. You sighed in relief as you realized it was just a dream. However, your mind drifted back to your sorcery class earlier today.

You were instructed to envision your worst fears as you looked into the cauldron, manifesting them into a hexing potion. Yours turned out great, but now it was plaguing you. What if you accidentally manifested some sort of terrifying entity, and it was now coming after you?

You began to tremble in anxiety, feeling your heartbeat quicken. You sprung out of bed and ran to the one person you knew would make you feel better.

“Mammon wake up!” you screeched, bursting through his bedroom door.

He groaned as he raised himself up. “Hm? What’s goin’ on?” he asked with a yawn, squinting his tired eyes.

“I think something’s after me!” you cried. “I don’t know what it is but I just had a horrible nightmare, and today in potions class I was manifesting my worst fears into a hex, and now I’m scared it’s coming for me and-“

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, concerned at how you were gasping for air between sentences. He put his arms around you and just held you there for a second, rubbing his hand along your back soothingly. “I’ve got ya. It’s okay.”

You squinted your eyes shut, pushing the stray tears out of them. You buried your head into his chest as you caught your breath.

“Mammon, I’m so scared.” you confessed.

“I can tell, you’re literally shakin’…” he observed. He leaned back and placed a hand on your forehead, looking down at you with a concerned expression. “You’re burnin’ up too. Ya poor thing…”

“What if something is coming to get me?” you asked. “What if it wants to hurt me?”

“I wouldn’t let anything hurt ya, MC. You’re with the Great Mammon now.” he reassured with a smug grin. Normally a remark like that would’ve annoyed you, but tonight it was strangely comforting.

“Thank you Mammon…” you sighed in relief. You looked around the room awkwardly. “Can I… can I sleep in here tonight?”

His eyes widened and his face immediately heated up at the suggestion. He wanted to scream “yes!” from the rooftops. But he just coughed, shifting into a stricter posture. “I don’t know if that’s-“

“Please?” you practically whimpered, reaching for his hands. You were looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen.

Damnit. He thought to himself. They’re way too cute to refuse.

“Well… what kind of demon would I be if I didn’t help my human out in their hour of need?” he stated with false confidence. “But just for tonight!”

“Yay!” you cheered, burrowing under his blanket like a little bunny.

His thoughts were racing as he joined you. Be cool, Mammon. You’re just sharing a bed with your crush. It’s no big deal. Whatever you do, don’t think about how snuggly they look, or how they were just begging you to sleep together, or how they came to you first over everyone else…

“Thank you for keeping me safe, my big strong demon.” you chuckled. You thought to yourself for a moment, then leaned over to peck his cheek. “Goodnight Mammon.”

His heart felt like it was going to explode, and his face was on fire. “Oh come on, ya can’t just do that! How am *I* supposed to fall sleep now?”

Leviathan:

Just as you expected, the lights of Levi’s room were still on. He was sitting up in his bathtub bed, playing video games. It was a sight you saw every day, but tonight it was especially calming.

“Levi?” you called out as you entered through the doorway.

He jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion, but smiled once he saw that it was you. “Oh, it’s you MC. Do you need something?”

“Yeah actually, I…” you began, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously.

He looked you over, observing your tousled hair, clammy skin, and dark circles. “Bad dream?”

Your head snapped back up, and you let out a small gasp. “How did you know?”

He shrugged, setting his controller down. “I used to get them a lot. I just kind of know the look of them.”

“Really?” you asked. “But you seem so brave!”

He blushed lightly, glancing down at his lap with a smile. No one ever thought of him as brave.

“I just started doing things I love when I woke up from a nightmare.” he explained. “Playing video games, watching anime, reading manga… it was a good way to get my mind off the dream, and helped me feel sleepy enough to go back to bed. And since it put me back in a good headspace, I usually had a good dream afterwards. ”

You smiled gratefully. “Thanks for the advice Levi. I’ll give that a try.” You started to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist suddenly. You froze and glanced down at it.

“Sorry.” he chuckled nervously, letting go. “It’s just… if you’re not ready to go back to sleep yet, I was wondering if you’d want to watch some anime together? I’ll give you my ruri-chan body pillow and everything.”

You couldn’t help the great big smile that broke out on your face. “I’d love to, Levi!”

He gave you an equally huge grin, and pulled you into the tub on top of him. You screeched playfully, scrambling to sit up on his lap. Feeling a lot better already, you were confident that you would have a good dream when you eventually went back to sleep, like Levi said. What he didn’t know was that he was the topic of all your good dreams.

Satan:

Satan was sitting up in his bed, propped up on his pillows and reading a book. He was in his pajamas, clearly doing his nightly routine of reading before bed. He glanced up from the top of his book when he heard you enter his room.

“Ah MC, it’s good to see you.” he smiled, closing the book but keeping his thumb on the page he was reading.

“Hi Satan, um… what are you reading?” you asked, trying to deflect the attention off yourself.

“Oh not much, just some poetry…” he told you, gesturing to the book. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah…” you sighed. There was no way you could act like nothing was wrong. He could read you too well. “Do you… remember that time we were studying together and I fell asleep to the sound of you reading aloud?”

He nodded with a miniscule smirk.

“Well, I just had a really bad dream, and I can’t fall back asleep… could you do that for me again?” you asked, bashfully kicking at the foot of the bed.

“Of course I can, dear.” he said, trying to contain his joy at how you came to him for help with a request like this.

He scooted over and flipped up the comforter, patting the spot next to him. You slowly climbed up next to him, cautiously resting your head on his shoulder.

He put an arm around your side to hold the other end of his book out in front of you. “I didn’t know you enjoyed my reading so much.”

You shyly looked away from him. “You just… have a really relaxing voice, okay?” you mumbled.

He held back a chuckle, turning his attention back to the book. He began reading it out loud to you.

You followed along for a little while, but eventually your eyelids fluttered shut, and Satan’s words got more and more jumbled. You just felt so cozy and safe in his arms, and before you knew it, you didn’t even remember how scared you were. You quickly fell asleep right there on his shoulder.

He glanced down at you, smirking to himself as he noticed your unconsciousness. He turnt his attention back to the book.

“‘I may never find words beautiful enough to describe all that you mean to me, but I will spend the rest of my life searching for them.’ John Mark Green.”

He shut the book and placed it back on his night stand. Carefully lifting you off his shoulder, he laid you down flat on the bed and covered you up. Once the lights were off, he curled up next to you and went to sleep with butterflies in his stomach. You were truly special to him.

Asmodeus:

You crept into Asmo’s bedroom to see him sound asleep on his huge, luxurious bed. He had on a pink sleep mask, and was wearing the softest silk pajamas you’d ever seen.

“Asmo?” you whispered, gently shaking him awake.

He whined, shuffling around a bit. “Mm, who is it? You know I need my beauty sleep!”

“Asmo it’s me, MC… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woke you. It was just a nightmare. I’ll go back to bed…”

He suddenly sprung up, whipping off his sleep mask. “Oh my poor darling!” he pouted, turning on his bedside lamp. “Sorry about the tone MC, I assumed you were one of my brothers. I would’ve been much nicer had I known it was you!”

“It’s okay Asmo…” you told him with a chuckle.

“No it’s not ‘okay,’ you just had a nightmare!” he gaped, putting his hands on your shoulders. “That’s really scary! I mean, I never get them, but Levi does, and from what I hear they’re pretty terrifying!”

“It was, but… I can’t remember what it was about.” you told him disappointedly.

“Oh, that’s horrible honey…” he said, pulling you in for a tight hug. “I bet it’s even worse not knowing what scared you!” He began to run a hand through your hair comfortingly. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the soothing sensation. It felt really good to be babied by Asmo.

You nodded into the crook of his neck. “I’m still pretty scared too… can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course you can darling!” he cooed, kissing your forehead. “I’ll give you all the attention you want until you fall back asleep!”

“Awh, thanks Asmo…” you beamed, falling back against the mattress with him.

The two of you stayed up for a little while longer, gossiping and giggling until you started feeling tired again.

“You’re so cute when you’re all sleepy like this…” he complimented you, tucking your hair behind your ear. He was looking at you with such genuine admiration in his eyes. “You’re beautiful, MC.”

“Not as beautiful as you, Asmo.” you chuckled, trying to ignore the blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

He laughed, cuddling up to you. “Well, no one’s as beautiful as me. But you come pretty close.”

Beelzebub:

You woke up in the middle of the night with a general sense of anxiety. It wasn’t so much that you were panicking, but it was enough to put you on edge.

You were startled by a loud noise coming from down the hall. Paralyzed with fear, you somehow managed to creep out of bed and down the hallway, holding a broom out in front of you for protection.

You stopped in front of the kitchen, hearing something shuffling around in there. Whatever was lurking around the house was definitely in there. You collected all the courage you had, then leapt around the corner into the kitchen, charging in with your broom raised to strike.

“MC, it’s just me!” Beel cried, throwing his hands up in surrender. He was currently knelt in front of the oven, picking some cookies up off the ground.

“Oh…. sorry Beel, I’m just a bit jumpy… I heard a loud noise and got scared.”

“That was just me baking cookies.” he chuckled, standing up. “I accidentally dropped the tray taking them out of the oven. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No it’s okay, I was already awake.” you explained, taking a seat at the counter.

“Really? You’re usually asleep at this hour.” he observed. He set the tray in front of you, gesturing for you to take one.

“Well I was, but I just randomly woke up.” you told him, taking a bite of a cookie. “I don’t know why, I just felt super anxious and full of dread.”

“That’s not good.” he said, stating the obvious. “I usually only get nightmares when I’m hungry. That’s why I always wake up for a snack before I can have one.”

“Maybe that’s what I need.” you chuckled. “Good thing you were up baking!”

He laughed along with you, grabbing a cookie himself. “I’m glad I can help. But even if I wasn’t, you know you can always wake me up if you need something. I wouldn’t mind.”

You smiled warmly. “Thank you, Beel. I really appreciate that.”

He nodded contentedly, then picked up the tray of cookies. “Well, I’m gonna take these back to my room and go back to bed. Wanna share?”

You were a little shocked that he was being so forward. He must have noticed this, because he gave you a comforting expression before he explained.

“The cookies, not the bed.” he laughed. “Although I wouldn’t mind sharing both.”

You giggled at his bluntness. “Sounds good to me.”

“Which one?” he asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” you teased, grabbing the cookies and running ahead of him up the stairs. He quickly caught up to you in the bedroom, but you jumped into his bed before he could catch you.

“I see, you wanna share both too.” he grinned, crawling up next to you. He took a bite out of the cookie you were holding. “How gluttonous.”

Belphegor:

The faint sound of snoring reached your ears as you opened the door to the stairs of the attic. You knew Belphie would be asleep. Having just woke up from a nightmare, you first thought was to go to the avatar of sloth. Surely he would be able to help.

“Belphie?” you called out, approaching his sleeping form. No response. You shook him lightly. “Belphie, please, I need you.”

That seemed to get to him. He immediately rolled over and sat up. “MC? What is it?”

You sighed in relief that you were able to wake him up. “Belphie, can you do anything about nightmares? I just had a pretty bad one, and now I can’t sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry MC.” he said sympathetically, ruffling your hair. “Yeah, just lie down right here next to me.”

You did as he asked, curling up in his cozy blankets and pillows that smelled just like him. The lavender aroma was intoxicating, instantly making you feel sleepy again.

“Alright, is it okay if I lay on top of you? It helps the magic work better.” he asked. You nodded, and he put his weight on you. His head was on your chest, and he had his arms curled up around your sides. It felt like you had a big, cuddly teddy bear on top of you. That combined with the way he was drawing little circles on your arm with his fingers was enough to put you back to sleep in no time.

You awoke in the morning tangled up together. He had somehow wriggled his way up your body, laying on his side and holding onto you while you faced him, curled up into his chest.

He woke up at the feeling of you stirring next to him, a small smile forming on his face as he stretched his legs. “Good morning, MC.”

“Morning Belphie.” you mused, brushing his hair out of his face. “That was some magic you used last night.”

He chuckled lightly. “I didn’t use any magic last night MC.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “You didn’t? But… I fell asleep so easily!”

“I honestly just wanted to cuddle you.” he confessed, blushing slightly. “But I guess it made you feel safe enough to fall back asleep.”

“Yeah, it did… I didn’t have another nightmare, so I’ll let you off the hook.” you decided, smirking at him playfully.

“I don’t apologize for anything.” he remarked with a devilish grin.

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heartbreakgrill · 1 year

Text

sleepy-head; pedro pascal.

a/n: fluffy falling asleep on set idk, not edited, no warnings. enjoy sweet friends

i stood lopsidedly- left knee bent, hand propped on my waist, and backpack slouched off my shoulder. my head hung low, eyes boring a deep hole into the dirty ground. i fluttered my lashes, in a lane attempt to keep them wide open. with a slight sway to the side, i worried i was going to completely pass out, right then and there.

then, the director yelled out a sharp, clear, "cut!"

i flinched, back straightening like the edge of a knife. i swear i heard something crack in my bones. i tugged the backpack up my shoulder and glanced around me. i met bella's eyes and they made a face, "you alright?"

i shook my head lightly, awakening my face, "tired." i reached an arm into the sky and stretched.

bella approached me, letting their own backpack slide down their shoulder and into their hand. "dude, me, too. i'm ready for today to be over."

"unfortunately," we fell into step off set, "we have a few more hours to go."

"fortunately," they added, mocking my tone, "we have exactly one hour until we have to be back right here. i am going to stuff my face with craft services."

bella's steps grew quicker as they started to bee-line for the food table. "wanna come?" bella offered.

i waved her off, "if i eat anything, i'm going to pass out."

they snorted, "go find a hole to take a nap in."

i managed a small chuckle at the response. maybe that was actually a really good idea. i set my book bag on the prop table; my trailer was a fifteen minute golf-cart ride from here. if i hopped on one right now, i have 30 minutes before i needed to get back on set. not to mention the fact that i needed to be back even earlier for hair and makeup touch ups, and notes from the director. that left maybe fifteen minutes for a nap.

but if i curled up in a corner somewhere, i'd have a good 40 minutes.

i shrugged off my jacket, peering around the set. i met eyes with people every now and again, offered sleep-ridden smiles in their direction. eventually, i settled on the couch in the corner of the room, parallel to a few chairs. it was a small resting place meant for guests, cast and crew members. i headed towards it with a heavy sigh. my feet hurt so bad.

as i approached, i opened my phone up and set a timer for thirty minutes. just in case. i plopped down onto the couch, slipped off my costume combat boots, and curled up in a ball. with my jacket lain across my body, my eyes shut as soon as my head hit the arm rest.

the noises slowly faded from my hearing, becoming muted murmurs in my distant, fuzzy memory. it was one of those weird naps, where i wasn't really asleep, but i definitely was not conscious. i felt my breathing even, a comfortable, monotonous rhythm circulating my system.

i don't know how long passed, but i jutted awake with a shocking pop of open eyes. my shoulders flinched a bit, and i sucked in a breath. i rubbed at my eyes gently, trying not to disturb the makeup there, and glanced around me.

bella had joined me on the couch, sitting at my feet with a bag of chips in their clutches. they were humming to themselves, watching tiktok's on their phone. after registering her presence, i looked ahead, where pedro was sitting, also eating a bag of chips and watching videos on his phone.

i shuffled a bit, lifting myself onto my seat, leg still curled up, beneath me. bella's snapped towards me, "good morning, sunshine. did you have a nice sleep?"

i rubbed my cheeks with either palms, then rested my head in my hands. "oh, god. that felt good, actually." lies.

bella gave me a thumbs up before going back to their phone. they were a human of few words. a silly, adorable human.

i glanced forward again and met pedro's eyes. his attention was lifted from his phone to me, now. he offered a sweet smile. "you doing okay?"

i shrugged, head pounding with exhaustion and restless napping. "just really tired."

my eyes flickered to my left as bella stood, engrossed in technology, and walked off to who knows where. i looked back to pedro.

he jutted his bottom lip slightly, a sympathetic expression. "i'm sorry," he glanced back at his phone, "you've still got thirty five minutes until we've gotta get back. why don't you lay down again?"

"it's okay," i shut the alarm off on my phone. "i'll be fine. this couch isn't comfortable, anyways."

pedro stood slowly, crossing the distance between us, and sat beside me. "no, you're right. this shit sucks," he laughed lamely.

i giggled at his words, "told you so."

pedro hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the furniture. then, he looked down at his lap. pedro set his chips and phone down beside him, shrugged off his jacket, and balled it up in his lap.

"here," he waved lazily, "lay your head down."

i eyed the make-shift pillow. was that going to be weird? i was so tired, i couldn't care less about nicety rules with my coworkers.

i smiled sleepily at him, lowering my head into his lap, "thank you," i murmured.

he rested his right arm across the back of the couch, and balanced his phone on the arm rest, going back to whatever he was doing. "no worries, sugar. i'll wake you when it's time."

i was beyond tired- but i didn't not notice the little butterfly wing that fluttered in my stomach when he called me that.

i passed out this time, though, completely snoozing away in dream-land, until i felt a strong hand clasp my shoulder and gently shake. his touch was warm, seeping through my costume and onto my skin like the gentle lick of a flame. pedro's voice spoke carefully close to my ear, "y/n? hermosa? they're calling us back to set."

i breathed deeply, eyes fluttering open. the first thing i saw were a pair of deep, dark chocolate eyes, shining golden under some of the set lights. my lips curled into a lazy smile, involuntarily. i sat up, feeling a hand softly on my back, supporting me.

"thanks for that," i stretched. "it helped a lot."

pedro's hands dropped into his lap, "i'm really glad." he went to say something else, but one of the makeup artists was approaching us, his large makeup bin in tow.

"y/n, i don't know what you did, but i need to fix that," sebastian waved a hand around my face with a disgusted look.

pedro and i shared a laugh. "i'm sorry, seb. thanks again, pedro."

he nodded, and waved as i got up and followed sebastian to a chair and vanity set up. i settled into the seat, eyes opened a little wider from the rest i'd gotten. as sebastian went to work on my face, my eyes followed pedro's reflection in the mirror. he stood from the couch, brushed his hands off on his pants, like they were sweaty or something. he mumbled something to himself, took a deep breath, and started his way towards set.

i scoffed out a short laugh. sebastian drew his hand back, brows furrowed, "what?"

i shook my head, "nothing."

pedro was kinda hot.

—

two weeks later.

i hugged my legs to my chest, apple of my cheek rested upon the crevice of my knee. a soft scratching noise emitted from the stick that i was dragging across the ground. i followed it in a loop with my eyes until i finished the little stick figure i was drawing.

bella's phone volume lifting snapped me out of my daze. i looked to them, watched them laugh at some video.

"y/n!" they stepped towards me, flipping their phone screen to face me, "we have to do this."

i watched the dance video she showed me, and groaned when it ended. "noooooo," i shoved my forehead against my knees. "i can't dance. you know this."

bella shrugged me off, "i don't care. we're doing it later."

"fine," i gave in. it didn't take much to sway my opinion. the videos bella always made me do with them were fun. i looked forward to the days she'd ask me to make them.

she was my little friend.

pedro interjected, "what is it?"

bella showed him, "dance video were gonna make. i'd invite you, peepaw, but i think you'd break a hip."

i snorted, covering my grinning mouth with my hand. pedro glared at me, playfully flipping both of us off. "whatever. i didn't wanna be a part of it anyways."

my eyes lingered as on his hand as it dropped to his side. his palms were ginormous, fingers long and slender. pedro wasn't excessively fit, but there were still veins snaking beneath his skin.

bella cleared their throat, kicking my shoe gently. "hello? earth to y/n?"

my glazed eyes shut, and i shook my head of the moment. "what? sorry?"

"nevermind. it doesn't matter. are you that tired?" bella plopped down onto the step beside me.

i rubbed my eye slightly, a clear sign that i was exhausted. maybe that's why my mind kept wandering... i nodded in confirmation to bella's question.

pedro sat criss-cross in front of us. he shrugged off his backpack and jacket. "it's been a long week. but we're almost done, honey. just hang in there."

i smiled kindly at his encouragement. "yeah, then two days off, right? i'm so looking forward to that."

pedro and bella nodded. my latter co-star unlocked their phone again, "me, too."they were over the conversation. person of few words, like i said.

pedro glanced at them as their phone volume rang through the beat of silence. he met my eyes and rolled his playfully. i giggled.

pedro leaned back on his palms, head dipping back as he admired the ceiling of the set room we were in. a comfortable silence succumbed us.

i shoved my head into my knees again, letting my eyes fall shut. my breathing became automatic as i entered a dismal state of being.

after a few moments, i felt a hand wrap it's fingers around my wrist. pedro squeezed, tugging my arm from the hold around my legs. i lifted my head, meeting his very closely countered gaze. he was on his knees before me. "yeah?"

pedro pointed beside me, where his jacket was wrapped around his book bag in a faux-pillowed manner. "lay your head down, sugar."

my chest inflated, a rush of heat kissing my cheeks. "o-okay. thanks."

pedro let go of my wrist as i turned, curling into a ball on my side. his backpack felt comfortable beneath my head. i passed out quickly. i woke up, probably fifteen minutes later, to a set of voices sharing a muted conversation, short whispers in the dim light.

"dude, you look so creepy," bella hissed.

pedro huffed out a reply, "shut up."

bella quickly countered with, "you're very openly staring a hole into her face! how can i not comment on that?"

i heard a scuffle as pedro probably adjusted his seating. "i can't help. she's very pretty."

bella awed, quite loudly. pedro shushed her quickly. "that's so cute. wait- do you have, like, a thing for her? wait, you do! oh, my god-"

"i'm walking away now," another shuffle as pedro stood. "forget this ever happened."

"pedro, no! come back!" bella stood, too, following after him.

my eyes slowly opened, a humiliatingly ginormous grin on my mouth. i covered my face with my hands. i was blushing.

okay, yeah there was something there.

–

two weeks later.

i groaned loudly, twisting my pillow around beneath my head for the thousandth time. i felt tears prickle at the back of my exhausted eyes, and a frustrated scream lodge itself in my throat. sniffling furiously, i took short, quick breaths.

for someone who was always falling asleep on set, i sure as hell had a difficult time doing so in my own damn bed.

i sat up, clutching the covers around my bare shoulders. i had shed my clothes a while ago, during some strange hot flash. but now i was shivering, skin lingered with warm goosebumps. i think i had a fever.

grabbing my phone, i checked the time. 3:45am. i had to be up at 6am to film something with bella. i held down the button and my flashlight lit up my room. my phone plopped onto the bed as i stood. i tugged a hoodie on and some pants before quickly hitting the light switch. my eyes screamed and head pounded from the brightness. i grabbed my phone again and turned off the flashlight.

i rummaged around in the medicine cabinet above my tiny sink. there was a thing of ibuprofen, and my hands shook as i tore it open, popping a few pills. i draw swallowed and they scratched my already sore throat. there was not thermometer, however.

i moved quietly, out of my trailer, the door squeaking on the hinges a little too loud. there were a few crew members littering the makeshift streets. there was probably a night shoot happening. i never paid attention to the schedule unless it pertained to me.

the medical tent was a good fifteen minute golf cart ride, but there were none stationed where they normally would. i would just have to walk.

my feet padded against the pavement, slippers scuffing harshly. i drug my fingers against other trailers for support, but when the row of buildings came to an end, i had to hold myself up. i felt like i was going to pass out- everything ached, including my stomach. i wanted to fall into the pavement, curl into a decrepit ball, and die there.

my arms latched around my body, holding me together tightly. i was certain my eyes were completely shut. maybe i was even going in the opposite direction. i didn't know how far i had walked when i ran into someone's solid chest.

hands clutched at my shoulders, rushed, worried words gently coaxing my eyes open. "y/n, cariño? are you okay? what's wrong? y/n, what's wrong? cmon, talk to me, sugar."

my eyes flitted, somehow peeling themselves open. pedro's furrowed brows were the first thing i noticed, and his rambling lips the next. i sighed, pushing my body into his clothes. he took hold of my weight as my knees gave out a bit more.

he wrapped one arm around my back, fingers wrapped around my bicep. his other came to my forehead. "jesus, you're burning up. here-"

my stomach turned as he lifted me up in his arms, temperature hand scooping up my legs. "where are we going?" i slurred, on the precipice of passing out.

"medical tent, sugar. need to get you checked out," pedro whispered, lips close to my ear.

"i feel tired."

"that's okay," he soothed, "go to sleep. it'll be okay. i've gotchu, hermosa."

my head lolled back, resting on his shoulder, as i gave in to the darkness.

when i woke up, i was laying in a hospital bed, papery sheets wrapped tightly around my lower body. my left arm flinched, and i felt wires tug at my skin. on my body was a hospital gown, an iv, and a knit blanket overtop of the issued ones. then, my eyes flittered around the room, narrowed in the bright, fluorescent lighting that covered me.

pedro.

he was in the chair beside my bed, slid down enough that his head could rest on the back of it. his legs were spread out, slumped from his state of sleep. pedro's lips were parted slightly as his even breaths pulled in and out, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

i settled for a second, admiring how peaceful he looked. but, then the beeping of the machines next to me broke me out of my trance. i glanced around again, finding the bed's remote, and raised the head of it so i could sit up properly. pedro shuffled in the chair, groaning as his eyes popped open.

he rubbed at his sockets, sliding back up in his seat. "oh, you're awake," pedro spoke, voice raspy from sleep. okay, that was hot.

i set down the remote, hands clasping each other in my lap. "i just woke up. so, was my fever that bad?"

"it was 104, y/n," pedro leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. "i took you to the medical tent, they took your temp, and then shoved you into the ambulance. i was barely able to hop in before they shut the doors and drove away."

i took a shaky breath. i felt a million times better than i had- but i was still sick. i could tell by the raspiness of my breathing, the ache in my bones. "is it covid? where's your mask? you shouldn't be here-"

"hermosa," he clasped a large hand around my own, "i'm not going anywhere. and it's not covid. just a bad case of the flu."

i twisted my fingers through his. "thank god. what time is it even? how long was i out?"

pedro laughed shortly, "it's actually sunday. you've been in an out of consciousness for a day and a half. but they think you can go home tomorrow."

"shit," i sat up a bit, "what about the show? shouldn't you be filming?"

pedro braced a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back against the bed. "don't even dare think about getting up. they've shut down set for the rest of the week to do some cleaning. just relax, cariño."

i huffed, but relaxed back into the bed. pedro squeezed my hand twice. my other hand balled up a fistful of the knit blanket. it was incredibly soft. pedro watched as i stuck my fingers through its holes, fiddling with it anxiously.

"who's blanket is this, anyways?" i asked.

the corner of his lips lifted into his cheeks, "mine. it was over my shoulder when you passed out in my arms. i accidentally brought it with us and just figured you could use it."

i smiled sweetly at him, "thanks. what were you doing with it on set? is it a prop?"

"hermosa, you ask an incredible amount of questions," he hung his head. "but, i thought that you were going to be shooting with us last night. got the schedule mixed up. i brought it for you."

the blood rushed to my cheeks. i wanted to ask why, but i already knew why. for when i fell asleep. i squeezed his hand twice and we shared an ardent gaze.

–

one week later.

"hey, cariño, you feeling better?"

it was my first day back on set since i had been sick. it was a 12 hour schedule, of course, and i was feeling exhausted. i was sitting up against a wall, one leg stretched out before me, and the other curved against my body. pedro squatted before me, leaning in close with a concerned expression.

i brushed my hair behind my ear, "yeah, i'm doing alright. sleepy, as per usual."

pedro chuckled, "figured as much."

"hey, you wouldn't happen to have that blanket, would ya?" i joked, nudging his foot with my own.

"actually..."

pedro pushed up off his knees, and i watched him round the corner, towards where our set chairs were. i couldn't see him anymore. i waited two minutes, before he came back around the corner, cradling that red knit blanket.

he squatted down again, and dropped onto his knees. pedro lay the blanket out over me lovingly. i blushed deeply, engulfed in warmth, and the sweet smell of his cologne.

"wow, uh...thanks," i grinned.

pedro settled against the wall, beside me. "no worries, hermosa."

a beat of silence passed. i wrestled with my thoughts. then, i made a decision and opened the blanket, setting it across his lap. "come on," i offered.

pedro pushed closer, shoulder pressing against mine, as the blanket covered both of us. "is this uncomfortable, though? it's kinda small-"

i bravely took his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. he came closer, if at all possible. the blanket easily covered us both, now. "there. we made it work."

pedro looked down at me, a cheeky smile on his lips. his eyes were tired, fit with dark bags. i looked away, only to grab my phone and set an alarm. "twenty minutes okay?" i spoke softly.

pedro nodded, "okay."

i curled up into his side, placing my head in the crevice of his shoulder. i felt the weight of his own head as he rested it overtop my own.

my phone woke us twenty minutes later, shocking my system with a rapid heart rate and wide, alarmed eyes. pedro pulled away, sadly, arms stretching above his head. my body was colder in the spots he had touched, like a ghost linger there now.

"feel better?" i yawned into my palm.

pedro rubbed his sleepy eyes. "actually, yes, i do. i get why you do that so much. might have to go it more. although, i'm sure i won't look half as pretty as you do during it."

no words formed in my throat. my mind went blank, as my face heated up. i just stared at him, and i'm sure my eyes were wide, and my smile cheeky.

pedro tilted his head curiously, "you're beautiful, cariño."

i licked my bottom lip, as if lubrication would help the words come easier. "uh- than. thanks you. thank. you."

pedro just admired me for a moment before he reached forward and brushed hair behind my ear. his fingers lingered on my cheek, where he brushed his thumb over the apple of my face. he went to say something else, when a loud voice interrupted us.

"alright, people. let's get this wrapped up!" the director.

we dissipated, disappointed that the moment ended.

–

one month later.

"no, we have to match," i whined to bella, adjusting the santa hat on my head carefully.

they rolled their eyes at my reflection with the matching hat in their hands. "ugh, why?"

"because you always make me do these tiktok's and shit with you. you have to do something for me for once," i argued.

bella lazily tugged the hat on, hands falling flat at their sides. "happy?"

i squealed and clapped my hands together in excitement. "yes! oh, my gosh, so cute!"

bella wore a pair of flannel pj bottoms, red and green, with a green shirt that said, 'the humbug one.' i had on the same bottoms, but with a matching red shirt with the words, 'the jolly one.'

i had bella for secret santa, and i gifted them with the matching pjs. they complained when they unwrapped a large box and saw the pjs inside. little did they know, i had another, much nicer present. but, this was an added bonus just for my amusement.

the cast and crew christmas party was happening down at craft services. i had helped decorate yesterday, decking out the usually bland space with lights, strands of garland, and plenty of faux snow.

"cmon, we don't want to be late," i rushed bella with the wave of my hand.

they rolled their eyes again, but led us out of the trailer anyways. i knew bella secretly enjoyed this. they were like my little sibling.

as we approached craft services, christmas music tuned into our ears, along with the cherry murmur of cast and crew members mingling over cups of eggnog. my steps became a little lighter as i took it all in. everyone was dressed up in pjs or strange costumes, like the grinch or a christmas tree. i just knew my camera roll would be full after this.

bella spotted nico in the crowd and quickly ditched me for her. they looked back at me for a split second and stuck their tongue out, "see you later, loser."

i scoffed loudly, "what the hell!"

left in the dust, i crossed my arms and stepped over my own halted feet forward. i ran into sebastian first, who was nursing a very large sugar cookie cocktail.

"hello, gorgeous," he shook the bell on the end of my hat.

"hi, seb," i giggled. "that looks yummy."

"here, i'll get you one!" he offered enthusiastically, turning towards the table beside us.

my eyes rolled over his shoulder, where i noticed pedro was standing at the other end of the table with nick. pedro wore this ugly christmas sweater, mandelorian themed, with a pair of jeans. he had his glasses on, too, a small detail that made my stomach flutter. pedro had a whiskey glass in his left hand, and his right hung loosely in his front pocket. he was talking gently, grinning at whatever they were talking about. i wonder who his secret santa was.

my eyes lingered a second longer before sebastian popped back up in front of me. he held out a cocktail. i smiled, "thank you so much. hey, who'd you get for the secret santa thing?"

sebastian took a small sip of his drink, "murray bartlett. got him this blue scarf and glove set. looks gorgeous with his eyes."

i nodded, eyes flickering between him and pedro. a distant look, i'm sure, crossed my face. "oh, awesome. and who had you?"

sebastian tried to meet my eyes, but they focused in on pedro. he turned slightly, following my gaze. "0h, my god," he laughed. "knew it."

i wasn't paying attention. "who?"

sebastian's reply was laughed, "someone from the camera crew- girl, you're down so bad."

"uh-huh," i rolled my bottom lip between my teeth.

pedro's head fell back as he laughed, and when he straightened it, his eyes finally met mine. his smile widened, if at all possible, as he seemed to withdraw from the conversation and enter a space, encased with only me.

nick looked my way, brows furrowed with confusion. when he saw me, his brows then raised in understanding. he and sebastian shared an annoyed, humored look.

sebastian's hand touched my back, and he gently shoved me forward. my feet, which had been aching to make that journey forward, caught themselves and continued. nick patted pedro's shoulder lovingly, muttering some goodbye, and he walked away.

as i settled in front of pedro, a shiver rippled down my back. i let out a breathy, "hey."

pedro looked utterly taken, and he tilted his chin down, "hermosa."

"so," i swayed side to side slightly, grasping at some topic, "who had you for secret santa?"

pedro replied, "nick. got me some whiskey and this really nice jacket."

"oh, awesome," i finally took my eyes off his, nodding at my feet. but, like magnets, we met again.

"who'd you have?" pedro swung his elbow, lightly jabbing me.

i found bella in the crowd and pointed towards them. "bella. made them wear these stupid pajamas with me. i haven't given them the actual gift, which is a ginormous gift basket with all their favorite snacks and stuff like that."

pedro whistled, "damn, cariño. now i'm kinda wishing you were my secret santa."

"ha," i laughed, "yeah, well i haven't gotten anything yet, so i'm not going to be gifting anybody else...that's a lie, i'll make you a gift basket."

pedro said, "no, no, no," and braced his hand on my bicep. it was warm, like i remembered, "don't worry about that. your secret santa is just...waiting, hermosa. for the right moment."

i tilted my head, "waiting? what? how do you...oh."

pedro's smile was knowing. his hand stayed on my arm, sliding down my forearm, to my fingers. he intertwined them with his own. "i think this moment feels right. cmon."

he turned to stand beside me. with a gentle tug of my hand, we moved forward, away from the party, and to his trailer.

"are you going to kill me?" i joked.

pedro shook his head, laughing, "no, i promise. i just-" he held the door open, "wanted this to be for just us."

i had the smallest inclination, but i tried not to get my hopes up. my chest inflated anyways, full of thrill.

when we stepped inside, pedro grabbed a wrapped present from the counter. "this is the first present."

"the first? wow. you didn't-"

"don't start with that, hermosa,” he shushed me, and motioned to the couch. “just open it.”

i pressed my lips together, a grin growing on my face. “okay.”

i took a seat with him on the couch and set the present on my lap. my fingers shook slightly as i began to peel off the christmas wrapping paper. “oh, i like the little cats,” i laughed as i stopped to admire the various patterned animal on the paper.

pedro nodded, “i knew you would.”

my heart was melting.

i peeled more of the paper away, revealing a large, knit blanket. “you didn’t!” i gasped, shaking off the paper. “i hate you!”

pedro laughed as i quickly started tearing off the packaging. i unrolled the blanket, and wrapped it around my shoulders, basking in the softness.

“oh, i did,” he remarked.

i sighed in the embrace of the blanket, “it’s so warm, i could fall asleep right here.”

“why are you always so tired?” pedro shook my shoulders crazily, teasing me.

i laughed, and situated some of the blanket on his lap. “i don’t know! i just am, i guess.”

“worries me,” he rubbed a hand over the blanket that was on my thigh.

i shifted under his touch, nervous again. “well, thank you for this.”

“okay, next present,” pedro clapped his hands together.

he reached for a smaller square, wrapped in the same paper, on the coffee table. i tilted my head, exasperated by his kind favors. “thank you, pedro.”

“just open it already.”

i did as he asked. under the paper was a picture collage, with a few different pictures of us. the day i first fell asleep with my head in his lap; the day i overheard him and bella talking about me; him by side at the hospital, holding my hand; the time we fell asleep under the blanket together.

i sucked in a gasp of breath, “wow! who took all of these?”

pedro laughed, “bella.”

i rolled my eyes in response. “should’ve known. this is so sweet. i can’t wait to hang it up at home.”

pedro hesitated, before laying out some careful wording, “i wanted you to have these pictures because they’re sweet, yes. but, hermosa, i wanted you to be able to see me falling in love with you. i didn’t notice it at first, until bella sent me these pictures last week. but, i know now- it’s there.”

i met his eyes, my own vision watery from admiration. i set the frame down and took his hand in my own, “im so happy right now. i don’t think you’re ever going to top this gift.”

we shared a small laugh. i looked back to the picture frame and continued admiring it. then, he squeezed my hand twice, as a few beats of silence passed between us. “hermosa?”

“yeah?” i looked back to him. he raised his brows, waiting expectantly. i realized, and my eyes widened, “oh! i love you! yeah, i do, i’m sorry, i thought i said, but i guess i forgot to. i love you so fucking much, pedro.”

he rolled his eyes, but burst into singing laughter. “i can’t believe you!”

“i’m sorry, i’m tired!”

#pedro #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x y/n

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rookthorne · 10 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The return of your best friend was something that made your heart flutter and beat to the rhythm of his words, but there he was, framed before you like the mountain peaks of your small town, and he had a secret — a secret that would change everything.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☘︎ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ 3.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☘︎ Light angst, copious amounts of fluff (literally and figuratively) ჻჻჻ TROPES: Idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☘︎ You all know me by now, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☘︎ Tidal Wave (Acoustic) by Old Sea Brigade

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Lumberjack AU — Masterlist

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The air was crisp with freshly fallen snow, and the mountain peaks in the backdrop of your small town were dusted with a coat of white – a picturesque view for the drive to work, with the heaters of your truck on full blast, of course.

Music played quietly over the speakers as you hummed along, content and happy for the opportunistic day. Business had been booming. Your shop had turned into quite the hive of activity in the past few weeks from the season change – spring was on the way, and with it, came endless possibilities.

It also meant that James would be setting out to start work for the busiest period of the year, given the blistering winter that had hammered your small town left the woods treacherous and dangerous, even for a man of his skill and wit.

A lumberjack’s work was never easy.

Your shop – a perfect mix of a bakery, cafe, and bookstore – came into view as you turned the corner, the snow tires of your old truck crunching over the road. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon so the warm tones of the wood frames of the outside looked bleak. “Need to get some hardy vines…” you mumbled, pulling into your parking space.

“Morning, babe,” a voice called. You looked up from your keys to find Wanda – the town’s florist, and your best friend.

“Hey, you,” you returned, smiling happily. The click of the door lock sounded and you looked down to check it. “I can’t wait for this chill to be gone. How’re you?”

Wanda chuckled. “Same old, same old.”

There was a sly smirk on her lips when you glanced up again, and you narrowed your eyes. “What are you planning? I know that look.”

“Bucky is coming into town today, or so, the rumours say…”

“Oh my god,” you grumbled. “Not again. Yes, I know. And I am looking forward to seeing him.”

“Maybe you could–?”

You sighed heavily, knowing all too well what she was implying – having fallen head over heels for the mountain of a brooding bear that was your best friend. “No, Wands. I don’t want to lose what I have all because I can’t get my head outta the clouds, you know that. Besides, I am also looking forward to seeing my babies, Koda and Sarge.”

Wanda hummed happily. “I do miss those balls of fluff. You make sure you give them kisses from me, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day, babe.” You waved goodbye as Wanda turned to walk down the street to her shop.

The lights flicked on and your little slice of heaven came to life. Warm lights blazed over the earthy tones of browns and greens spread over the interior – golden spines of books shone, and the reflection of light on the glass display made you feel at home. Even though it had only been a few hours since you were last in your shop, coming back to it was like a tight, comforting hug.

“Let’s get this day started, huh?” You said happily, taking off your coat and switching on the heater, all the while walking towards the counter.

An hour later, the shop was filled with the smell of freshly baking bread, and the sweet smell of breakfast pastries. Coffee was brewing and the morning rush had just started – and your first customer? Steve, Bucky’s best friend.

“Hey, love,” Steve greeted, his hair packed under a dark blue beanie while his broad chest was covered in red plaid. His smile was contagious and unusually bright, and you couldn’t help but beam back at the bearded lumberjack. “How’ve you been? Keepin’ warm?”

“Stevie,” you breathed, rounding the corner of the counter to pull him into a tight embrace. “I have been great, keeping busy.” Pulling back, you moved back behind the counter and began the process of making his usual order. “How about you? How is Cap?”

“Causin’ trouble as always,” Steve said fondly, shaking his head. “The ball of fluff is in my truck, waitin’ ever impatiently for his puppacino.”

“Wait.” You paused in making Steve’s order to stare at him incredulously. “You brought my boy all the way here, and yet, you’re making him wait in the car.” The look on Steve’s face bled sheepishness, a sharp contrast to his goofy nature, but you didn’t let up. “Steven Grant–you get out that door and you bring that good boy into my shop.”

If Steve had a tail, it would have been pulled between his legs as he slunk out the door to his truck. Not even a moment later, the barking of an over-excited Cap could be heard over Steve’s yell of, “Easy, boy! Down!”

The door of your shop swung open, and a giant ball of fur bounded your way, tongue lolling, and black and white coat moving with his powerful muscles. “Cap!” you yelled, falling to your knees to greet the Malamute. “Hey, boy! Oh my gosh, look atchu!”

“It’s like you didn’t see him the other damn day,” Steve said, a ghost of a laugh in his words. “Drama queens, the pair a’you.”

“Don’t you dare insult my boy, Rogers,” you huffed, squishing Cap’s cheeks. The Malamute only opened his mouth in what could be perceived as one big smile. “He is precious, and for that, he is getting an extra treat.”

After sending Steve and Cap on their way, the morning rush began in earnest as the sun rose in the sky – casting yellow rays through the big windows that lined the front of your shop. People flocked to and fro on the sidewalk outside, stopping in for a steaming hot beverage or a sweet treat, and you felt at ease, falling into routine like a well oiled machine.

It was only when it hit nine o’clock did the hustle and bustle pass, and you worked at a more sedate pace. The display case of baked treats was considerably much emptier than when you opened for the day, and you grabbed two trays full of cookies to restock for the imminent lunch rush, when the bell sounded at the door.

You smiled and turned to greet the customer, only to freeze; the air in your lungs evaporating into nothing at the sight silhouetted by the sun.

“James,” you rushed, eyes wide, and smile even wider. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

The mountain that was your best friend stood in the doorway, a small smile on his full lips as he looked at you with such softness it turned your legs to jelly. His big boots were covered by black jeans that hugged his thighs, a dark blue and black plaid jacket stretched over his wide shoulders, and his long hair fell down in a swoop under his upturned collar.

Bucky opened his arms wide. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, tone gravelly and eyes bright. “Need my Clover to come an’ gimme a hug.”

The trays lay abandoned on the display, and you ran to Bucky, giggling all the way and colliding with his chest. “Oof!” He grunted, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and lower back. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, sweetheart. How have you been, huh?”

“Good, good! It’s been so lonely without you here!” you gushed, pulling back to look at him. He had a dark shadow of a beard on his jaw, and his smile framed his handsome face perfectly. “How was the scouting? How are you?”

Bucky gave you one last squeeze and threw an arm over your shoulder, walking you to a couch in the reading nook in the back corner. “It was boring, as usual–should be ready to start this logging season. And I’m good, Sarge and Koda missed you, too. Almost as much as I did.”

“Oh, my babies,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his middle so you could squeeze him tightly. “Alright, sit down and I’ll knock somethin’ together for you.”

“You betcha,” Bucky said. The couch creaked under him and he groaned loudly. “Fuck, this couch is my favourite fuckin’ thing–”

“I thought I was,” you interrupted, pouting at him. Bucky laughed.

The hiss of the coffee machine filled the comfortable silence, when you realised something. “Wait, where are my babies, James?” Bucky froze on the couch, and eyed you apprehensively – the action made you put your hands on your hips and stare at him pointedly. “Where are my babies?” you asked again.

“I left them in the truck because I needed a damn minute of silence, and Iwantedyoutomyselfforaminute…” The last part was a rushed mumble, and you blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky hastily said, and he stood from the couch. Another loud groan left his lips as he stretched – if you stared while his eyes were closed, that was your business. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

“Good, you do that, mister,” you huffed. “Coming in here without my babies. No wonder why you and Stevie are best friends.”

The comment made a loud howl of laughter to leave Bucky as he opened the door, and walked out. You shook your head fondly and made a round of two puppuccinos – extra large.

“Sarge, heel. Good boy–no, Koda, baby, ah, fuck it,” Bucky rambled from just outside the shop, and you watched through the window as two giant balls of fur ran around his legs, bounding and yipping for all their worth. “Yes, you’re seein’ her! Calm down, easy.”

You laughed and strode around the corner to take a seat on the couch that Bucky had occupied just moments before – the two dogs that would burst through that door any second would have no qualms on bowling you over if you knelt on the wooden floor.

“Alright, goddamn it, guys,” Bucky groaned, fending off paws and wet noses. “I open this door, and you two better be on your best behaviour.” Two loud barks answered his words, and the door flew open with a clatter of the bell.

The same two balls of fur and fluff barrelled into the (thankfully, empty) shop, looking around for their friend, until they spotted you at last. “My babies!”

You were lost in a flurry of black, white, and brown fur. “Oh my gosh, yesyesyes,” you gasped, shaking your head side to side to abate the worst of the incessant licks to your face. “Hi babies! Oh, lookatchu!”

A quiet chuckle sounded from above you, and you opened your eyes to find Bucky looming over you, phone in hand. “Are you recording my death–my death by fur and fluffiness?”

“Yep,” Bucky replied, grinning. “Gotta give somethin’ to everyone to remember you by.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to sit up, though it was impossible with Koda laying over you, and Sarge hogging your legs. “Barnes, help me.”

“Nope.” He smirked, plopping down on the couch, right next to your head. “You can stay there for a lil’ while longer, darlin’.”

“You are the worst,” you groaned. “These babies are heavy. Fine. I will be crushed and it’ll be your fault.”

Bucky only shrugged and slid down the couch cushions, then he gently moved your head so you could rest it on his thigh. “Thank you,” you hummed, and Bucky smiled, his hand resting on your shoulder.

Silence fell between you two – the comfortable kind that was shared so often when you both were just content to be in one another’s presence.

“I’ve fuckin’ missed you, Clover,” Bucky mumbled, and his hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek gently, lovingly. The rough skin of his hand was warm and it made something clunk in your mind – you could only hope it wouldn’t show on your face. “So damn much. I hate goin’ scoutin’–rather be home, here.”

You looked up at Bucky from your vantage point – his upside down face and thoughtful gaze, a small frown on his lips.

“I know, I know, Jamie. I know,” you whispered soothingly back, running one hand through Koda’s black fur, and moving the other one to rest over Bucky’s. “But you’re here now, you know I will always wait for you–you’re my best friend.”

The small frown turned into a fond smile. “Luckiest fella, I am. Havin’ a sweetheart like you to call his–”

Your heart seized. The words, while you knew they didn’t mean what you hoped for, still hit like a punch to the guts, and it was an effort to keep your face blank and void of the realisation. You wanted Bucky, and for much more than just a best friend.

“–Girl, huh? Why don’t we get an early lunch, darlin’?”

“I own the best cafe, James.”

Bucky laughed at your comment and shook his head. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have lunch here, you dork. Why don’t you make it to go, and we take my truck out to the clearin’?”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s go.”

Half an hour later, you brought a basket to the counter and pointed to it. “Lunch, and you get to carry it because it is heavy.”

“You just want an excuse to see me be a man, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, and you narrowed your eyes.

“Shut up, you idiot. Now, c’mon,” you urged, “I gotta be back for the actual lunch rush.”

Bucky saluted and took the aforementioned basket, only for his eyes to widen. “The hell you pack in this? Bricks?”

“I packed for Koda and Sarge,” you said simply, shrugging one shoulder. The two dogs ran to the door after Bucky, and you followed, your heart in your throat.

The drive to the clearing was pleasant, if only chilly – but it gave you the excuse to steal one of Bucky’s good jackets from the back seat. He only rolled his eyes and pulled into a parking spot. “Sure, you can use one,” he said, “Don’t want my darlin’ gettin’ cold now, do I?”

“No,” you replied smugly. “Thank you.”

Bucky snorted and opened the door, sliding out. “Koda, Sarge, c’mon.” The two dogs jumped from the car and bounded into the trees, kicking grass and snow up in their wake.

Something felt off, however – a sense of impending something was hanging tantalisingly over your head. Something was going to happen, and you had no idea what it could have been. You swallowed thickly, and opened your door to exit the warm cabin of Bucky’s truck. “It’s not that bad out here, thank god,” you commented.

It was the truth. The sun had warmed the chill in the air to be bearable, and while the snow hadn’t fully melted just yet, it was stunningly pretty to see the light bounce off crisp white mounds – that both Koda and Sarge barrelled through, their coats becoming covered in the soft snow.

“Sure is pretty,” Bucky affirmed, smiling at you – and the feeling of apprehension doubled in intensity. “Let’s dig in, I’m starvin’.”

“One thing we can agree on,” you hummed, walking to a picnic table under a gazebo. “I packed extra because you are a garbage disposal.”

“Hey!” Bucky chided. “Ain’t my fault that I’m a growin’ man, alright?”

You raised a brow and stared at him, and then you broke into a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled. “You’re not wrong, Jamie–you look like a bear on steroids. Have you been weightlifting trees?”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Well, it’s my job, sweetheart, kinda have to lift them somehow.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I would have thought you wrestled with a bear, considering you’re one of ‘em now.” The urge to repeat the joke you had made with him became overwhelming. “You could say… you’re a Bucky Bear.”

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpanned, reaching for the basket. “Real funny, Clover–real funny.”

The meal passed in spurs of conversation – you caught Bucky up on the gossip of the town and what Wanda had been up to, and then Bucky caught you up on Steve and Sam’s ventures on site, or how they wouldn’t stop teasing him about a situation that he refused to divulge.

“So,” you began, watching Bucky’s flickering gaze, and how his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. “What did Stevie and Sam tease you for?” Taking a bite of your lunch, you chewed slowly, growing increasingly intrigued by Bucky’s show of nerves.

“Y’know, normal shit,” Bucky said evasively, “they were bein’ assholes, like usual.”

Deciding to poke the bear, you probed further. “Doesn’t sound like it’s nothing, Jamie. Do I gotta tell them boys off?”

“No,” Bucky rushed, flushing slightly. “No, I got it.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, narrowing your eyes. Bucky was fidgeting something fierce, his usual aloof and charming aura had vanished – replaced with something akin to what he was like as a nervous teenager. “Jamie… are you alright?”

Bucky looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and he swallowed. “Clover, if you had-” His brows furrowed, like he was considering, or regretting, his words. “If you had the chance to tell the one–the one, would you do it? Tell them, or- Or ask them out?”

“Oh,” you said immediately. The question made the air in your lungs leave in a sweep – it was happening, Bucky had found someone. “Um, I-I,” you faltered, and you cleared your throat while placing your lunch down on the paper wrapping. “I, uh- Yeah. Yeah I would. Why?”

Something flashed across Bucky’s eyes and your stomach twisted. It was almost too much to bear.

“Well,” Bucky said slowly, his hand twitching on the table, like he wanted to move it but couldn’t. “Clover, darlin’–uh, would you-”

Two loud barks cut him off and Koda, followed by Sarge, ran up to Bucky and pawed at his thighs. “Really? Now?” Bucky grit out. He fished through the basket and split a large dog biscuit. “Now go on, get.”

“You were saying?” you chuckled, watching the dogs run off with their trophy.

Bucky flushed a deeper pink, and he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. His hand that had twitched just before reached across the table, open. Automatically, you took it, knowing he must need the comfort – hell, you needed it yourself, your heart was hammering so hard it felt like a rib was breaking. Whatever he was going to say was obviously hard, but you would take it and help him, he was your best friend.

“Would you wanna be- God fuckin’ damn, why is this so hard,” he cursed, frowning.

“Take your time, Bucky, baby, you’re okay,” you soothed, rubbing your thumb over his scarred knuckles. “I’m here, and I don’t mind waiting. You say it when you’re ready.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart fracture – surely he would only be acting this way if-

“Would you wanna be my Clover? My girl?”

What?

“Wait- What? Did you- Did you just–?” you floundered. Shock cascaded through every fibre of your being, and you watched as Bucky stared at you, almost imploringly. “Hang on, hang on.”

“Okay,” Bucky whispered, his hand squeezing yours once.

You took a singular second to think about what he had just asked. After all this time, after all that pining, the teasing from Sam and Steve must have been about you. It must have been about how- But that meant Bucky was serious. And… “Oh my god. Yes,” you blurted, staring into his eyes. “Yes–fuck, Jamie, I have–”

“I knew.”

“What?” you squeaked, terrified you had been far too obvious.

“I knew that I, uh- Liked you, sweetheart,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly. “I just… didn’t know how to approach it ‘till the assholes cornered me on site, demanding to know why the fuck I looked like a loon–smiling at nothing, when I was remembering you.”

A heavy breath left your lips, trembling only slightly. “So that’s why Stevie came into my shop this morning, smiling so big! After all this time,” you wondered out loud. “Just- Wow. Wow.”

“Well, now,” he began, chuckling quietly when his much larger hand engulfed yours. “Now I have my own lil’ four leaf clover.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #alternate juneiverse 2023 #rookthorne's works #POH

490 notes · View notes

ilys00ga · 4 months

Note

hellooo, ur blog is such a comfort for me <3 ! can i request yoongi meeting reader who’s quite literally the same person as him. he could’ve met the reader through one of the members trying to hook them up. “you two are so alike it’s scary, i think you’d be a match made in heaven”. so yoongi agrees..eventually. but when he meets the reader, it’s horrible! their similar personalities clash in the worst way possible. it’s pretty funny to everyone, because they totally thought they were in matchmaker mode?? the two constantly talk about how they couldn’t stand each other, so it surprised everyone when yoongi just admitted that he’d and the reader had been dating for a few months after their first meeting. loll

A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN.

pairing: yoongi x reader.

genre: fluff, i tried to make it funny loool, best friends to lovers, non idol au (?), non idol!yoongi, non idol!jimin, non idol!namjoon, jimin is the dramatic bestie and namjoon is just the very supportive friend that's happy to be there.

warnings: this is pure fiction and English is not my first language.

A/N: okay so, there was also this one ask I got from @parkjennykim that says: "Hiiii ❤️ hope this finds you well. Could you write a fluffy bsf to lovers with yoongi? Theres hardly any of those out there 😭 i need some fluff ive been too deprived and depressed".

I thought these two were similar so I decided to merge them, I hope that's ok for both of u :). thank u sm for sending these reqs, I really appreciate it and I hope u enjoy this read. do not hesitate to send more if u want to !

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I'm sorry, WHAT?!” Jimin, who’d been slouched on the couch with his head leaning against its rolled arm, sat up straight and goggle-eyed as soon as he heard what Yoongi had said.

The latter only rolled his eyes, not surprised one bit at his friend’s dramatic reaction. In fact, he expected it to be so much worse, but he guessed the younger one was just too tired that day for all of that. “don’t be loud.” he hissed and crossed his arms.

“hyung, are you serious?” Namjoon asked from where he was sitting with his chopsticks hanging in the air near his mouth as he too was stunned by the eldest’s statement.

“why the hell would i lie and say that me and __ have been dating for almost two months now?” Yoongi muttered through narrowed his eyes. "TWO MONTHS- woah, this is crazy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” The youngest of the three covered his face with his hands and heaved a big, disappointed sigh.

“Seriously, why is he so annoying today?”

Namjoon chuckled as the older continued side eyeing their dongsaeng, “hyung, he’s just really happy for you. I too am.”

“I’m very happy, yes, but, hyung, how could you hide such a thing from me? I literally helped you grow the balls to ask her out.” Jimin whined and slouched back down on the couch with a growing pout, “I've been waiting for you two to get together for months.”

It's true, Jimin was a man on a mission ever since he’d noticed the insanely similar character traits when you and your (now) boyfriend met for the very first time. two individual human beings but the exact same patterns and edges. on a large scale, talking to you always felt like talking to Yoongi and vice versa.

It was like a game to him. It made him buzz with excitement, reminding himself every now and then to keep a close eye and count all the similarities you two shared. not that it was hard to notice to begin with: having almso the exact same taste (especially in music), always sitting silently when being around other people and speaking little amounts of words when necessary, getting flustered and smiling shyly when being complimented, being chill and too soft to scold or yell at anyone (most of the time), having that same slow tone in your voices whenever you talk, having random bursts of energy or playful teasing despite the cold facade both of you display, getting so talkative when it comes to topics and things you’re so passionate about, being very honest but never too rude or offensive about it, being the most hardworking people jimin has probably ever met in his entire life—something that nevers fails to admire about the two of you.

You and Yoongi were so similar, even your bad habits and red flags matched. When setting your mind on finishing a task—say a project for example—you’d wear your bodies out for the sake of completing it, even if it meant you’d stay up several hours late during the night. and when mad or during intense clashes and arguments, you would put thick walls between you and the other person, ignoring and shutting them out until you're human enough to confront them. sometimes it’s too hard to even apologize, instead, you’d slowly start approaching them as if nothing had happened at all.

“No wonder you two ended up together, you’re basically a match made in heaven.” Namjoon nodded his head as he munched on his food, as if approving of his own statement.

“i know! and the way you wasted your time pinning on each other was killing me.” being the biggest shipper of your pair, Jimin huffed as he spoke with a very serious tone.

“how did you guys even make it?” namjoon asked.

“We hit it off right after the first date.” Yoongi answered with a shrug, acting as nonchalant as ever.

“you mean the date i had set for you?” it was jimin who asked this time, and when Yoongi nodded in confirmation, the younger groaned and buried his face into the couch, “hyung, you are seriously the worst.”

“hyung, you both are coffee addicts, take her to a new café this time!” Jimin suggested with a huge grin on his face. after finding out that you two secretly liked each other, he spent weeks pressuring Yoongi to confess his feelings for you. He couldn’t believe that his hyung finally obliged after many “no”s and “I don’t like __ that way.”s and “we’re just friends.”s. it was getting really annoying.

YG: “Can we hang out tomorrow? as two people wanting to know each other.”

ME: “Are you asking me on a date?”

YG: “yeah?”

ME: “okay :)”

that was the conversation you had with him the day before he took you on a cute café date. The place was impressively good, but the date was the complete opposite of that. Nothing bad happened, yet sitting down with someone you’ve known for a good period of time and have shared good amounts of vulnerability with in that intimate context was too unpleasant. Both of you struggled to find comfort and normality in the heavy awkward silence that fell on the table. and everytime he would try to play it off and throw some joke or normal piece of conversation that he found appropriate for a date, you two ended up laughing int your sweaty palms because of how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“stop laughing!” Yoongi exclaimed while his shoulders shook, giggling.

“I'm sorry, I'm trying!” you wiped at the corners of your eyes.

"Just act like this is a normal hangout.." he had said after a short moment.

"We're literally on a date." you reminded him.

“right..”

The “date” didn’t last long, and the two of you ended up at his house. eating popcorn on his couch and watching your favorite series of movies together.

Later that night, he asked, “so, what are we?”

“whatever you want us to be.” you answered with flushed cheeks.

“I like you..” he whispered, eyes never leaving the TV screen acroos the couch, "more than friends should like one another."

“Great, ‘cause I'd be sad if you didn’t like me back.” you whispered back, never daring to glance his way even for a split of a second.

“Wait, does that mean I won the bet?” Namjoon suddenly spoke, making Jimin kick him lightly on the shoulder from where he was still lying with a sour frown, and toss a few dollars he had grabbed from his wallet at the smiling man's extended palm.

“Did you two seriously make a bet on my relationship?” came a sharp question from Yoongi.

#yoongi #yoongi scenarios #bts #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts army #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fic #friends to lovers

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carmyboobear · 1 month

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 4: piccata, bills, and ghosts

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 3

Chapter Rating: T (9.1k)

Chapter Summary: Carmy realizes that this is what joy looks like, and when he looks that truth in the eyes, he finds himself blissfully unafraid. Their company is an indulgence he's finally allowing himself to have in its entirety, and it's beautiful. The world is both unfolding and combining, all for him, all because of them.

Tags: carmy being mentally ill, panic attacks, happy carmy, silly carmy, physical touch

A/N: Here's our fluffiest (and longest) chapter yet! But the hurt/comfort is also on full blast this chapter…This one really has it all. You'll see what I mean. Here's the also start of Act 2, in which Carmy is gonna be realizing…and he won't stop realizing…until he realizes it all. Also I am taking creative liberties with how family actually works. Enjoy!

It doesn’t always stay the same.

When Carmy looks in the bathroom mirror this morning, he feels as tired as he looks. Exhaustion resides in his dark eyebags and temperamental curly flyways. The fire from last night had interrupted the little sleep he was able to snag. Despite all the weariness, though, there’s something different about today.

He’s used to a blazing fire in his brain, constant in its sweltering heat and pain, but today, the fire lays low. There’s actually room in his head for quiet, for silence to exist. It’s not the dissociative emptiness he’s used to. He thinks he can only describe it as peace.

The thought almost makes him laugh with how ludicrous it is. Peace and him don’t typically mesh.

He remembers the fire last night, crackling in the containers of pots and pans before billowing upwards. He imagines a different outcome, instead pondering a future where his apartment burned down. Where their apartment burned down, and in this alternate reality, he stands in the ashes, unsurprised that he’s destroyed yet another good thing in his life. Then the grief of him realizing that it was the only good thing left in his life destroys him.

But when he looks at their toothbrush next to his, their shared crinkled tube of toothpaste, he comes back down.

He doesn’t know how he managed to keep them. Somehow, they’re here to stay, and they’re going to be at The Beef for family in half an hour.

“Corner,” he shouts, breezing through the kitchen with a container and shallots and garlic. He still needs to finish mincing them for family this afternoon—lemon chicken piccata. At least he’s prepped the rest of the ingredients already, along with the plates and utensils.

The peace in the morning was momentary, because of course it was. There’s a tangled yarn ball of anxiety knotting itself over and over inside him at the thought of them having family with him and everyone else. He pondered on his commute this morning if inviting them was the right thing. If it was an overstep, either with them or at The Beef, but then he remembers the way their face lit up when he asked, and the anxiety grows quiet. Well, quieter.

And as it grows quiet, it opens up the space for his excitement to be the loudest voice in his head.

“Lemon chicken piccata?” Sydney observes the prepped chicken, lemons, capers. As she looks, her fingers fiddle with the small golden hoops in her ear.

“Yeah. Thought this’d be a good way to have everyone try it again, get a better feel for it.” He cuts the shallot into thin slices before cutting into them again, mincing it into tiny pieces. He notes a distinctly ugly slice of shallot and tosses it. This dish needs to be perfect.

“Heard.” Sydney traces a finger over the edges of the stacked plates before stopping. “Uh, chef, I think you got an extra plate here.”

Carmy stops, looks up from the cutting board. Quickly counts the plates again. Looks back down.

“No, I got it,” he reassures her. When she raises an eyebrow at him, he adds, “I, uh, invited someone. My…roommate.”

“Oh.” Sydney doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on her face, or maybe she’s just so shocked she couldn’t. “That’s—that’s great!”

“Sorry I didn’t, um, give a heads up. Or something. Uh…” He pauses, looking at her, trying to search for more words.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just surprised.” She shakes her head, seemingly to herself. “But now that you mention it, yeah, a heads up next time could be cool.”

“Next time,” Carmy promises with a nod. Next time, he thinks wistfully to himself. Maybe there could be a next time.

“So…I’m guessing no one else knows that you invited someone,” Sydney says, harmlessly, just as Tina and Marcus decide to come back into the kitchen.

“Carmy invited someone?” Marcus makes his way back into the kitchen, a sack of flour in one hand and a tin of cocoa powder in the other. They slam onto the counter at the baking station, resounding with a dull thud. “Lemme guess. Is it the roommate?”

“It's the roommate,” Carmy confirms, before anyone else can get a word in. Now, onto mincing the garlic.

“Jeff!” Tina exclaims, aghast. “Why didn't you say something earlier?” She’s walking some extra vegetables to her station to prep. “Way to surprise us!”

“Who’s surprising us? With what?” Carmy raises his head, and when he sees who's just come back through the front entrance, he lowers his head with an aggravated sigh. Richie. The last thing he needs right now.

“Carmy's bringing a date to family,” Tina tattles helpfully. Although Carmy begrudgingly acknowledges that he would've had to bring it up eventually.

“Not a date, just my roommate,” he mutters. Not that anyone's listening.

“Carmen, Carmen, Carmen.” Richie makes a drama production of swinging the door open into the kitchen, stepping through it with arms outstretched. An overpowering scent of pine cologne accompanies him. “So you do listen to your cousin when he talks, huh?”

“I have no idea what he's talking about,” Carmy tells Sydney, who just shrugs.

“I'm proud of you, cousin. Really proud.” Richie slaps him way too hard on the back, jerking Carmy forward.

“Don't do that when I'm using a knife, you asshole!” Carmy snaps, elbowing Richie out of the way. “Stupid fuckin’ idiot.”

“Jesus, fine, fine, I'll get out of your way!” Getting cursed at did little to deter Richie's smug demeanor. “Fuckin’ princess. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the back.”

“We won't,” Carmy says, and Richie flips him off as he walks away.

“Carmy's bringing his roommate, who he is not dating, to family,” Marcus projects to the rest of the kitchen, and Carmy resists a groan.

“It’s not a big deal.” Carmy slams his knife onto another clove of garlic, crushing it. “I don't see why you guys have to make such a fuss about it.”

“Because it's fun,” Marcus replies with a broad grin. “Sorry, chef.”

“Let us have our fun. We never get to poke fun at you,” Tina says.

“That is just not true,” Carmy groans, and everyone’s laugh resounds into a mismatched chorus.

They tease him relentlessly for a couple more minutes until it dissolves into sparse chatter, for which Carmy is grateful. Peaceful lulls in the kitchen are rare, especially in this particular one. He takes it while he can get it, honing in, oiling the pan, pressing the chicken into the bubbling surface until it's golden. The others gradually filter out as he cooks, leaving him to cook on his own.

Then comes the familiar chime of the front door.

Carmy turns the stove off, takes the pan off the heat to check to see who it is. Surely enough, it’s the guest of honor.

“Hey Carmy!” They’re looking cute as ever today, maybe even a bit more dressed up than usual. Part of Carmy thinks that maybe they dressed up for him, and another part of Carmy strangles the other one to death. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Hey, you’re fine. I’m just about to finish up.” He guides them into the kitchen with him.

“Smells incredible in here,” they comment. “Also, before I forget. Is there somewhere I could put my coat? Break room or somethin?”

“Yeah, we can put it in my office.”

Upon entering, Carmy becomes acutely aware of exactly how messy his office is. It's not like he didn't know. He created the mess, after all, but having someone new bear witness to his stacks of papers and stuffed file folders is…embarrassing, to put it plainly. To Carmy's benefit and luck, though, they're much too polite of a person to comment.

“So this is where you're holed up.” Their head turns to look at all the posters and papers hung up on the wall, still largely unchanged from Michael's time.

“Yep. It's all bookkeeping, along with more bookkeeping,” he informs dryly. “Here, you can hang that on my chair.”

“Thanks.” They drape their jacket on the back of his chair, and Carmy is suddenly struck with the impression that it feels odd to see it there. “Oh!” They exclaim, looking at something on his desk.

He follows their gaze to the papaya pills and ginger candies sitting in the corner.

“Ah, yeah.” Why does he feel embarrassed? “I really need to thank you again for that.”

“No need, but I’ll take it. I hope they actually helped.”

“They did. I actually, uh…” He digs around in his apron pocket and fishes out a candy. “I’ve been keeping them on me.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” They beam at him, visibly brightening. It’s infectious, and he feels himself smiling a little back.

A period of silence falls between them. This sort of thing keeps happening as recent. It leaves them looking at one another, and it should be awkward. Yet it’s not. It’s strange and peaceful, and then because Carmy is Carmy, his heart starts squeezing and telling him he needs to get out of here.

“Did you sleep alright? After, uh, last night.” He’s not sure why he’s asking that now.

“Yeah, I was fine. You?”

“Okay,” he replies instinctually. “Sorta,” he amends. “I’m doin’ better.”

“That’s good. Better is good.”

“Yeah.” He exhales out his nose, runs a hand through his hair.

There’s the muffled sound of laughter in the distance, and it reminds Carmy that they’re not quite alone. That he still has dishes he needs to finish cooking.

“I need to finish back in the kitchen. Let me show you where we’re sitting.”

Minus a few faces, everyone’s already seated at the table for family. There’s some idle chatter floating in the air, but it drops to the floor as soon as Carmy enters. Makes him feel like a deer in headlights.

“Everyone, this is my, uh—“ Something in Carmy’s brain buffers. “My friend,” he finally decides. He introduces them to the four that're seated already, those of which being Sydney, Marcus, Tina, and Ebra. There’s a mix of enthusiastic hellos and simple nods in response. He turns back to his roommate—friend—whatever—and they’re waving back. “I'll be back soon. Sit wherever you want.”

“Sure thing,” they reply easily, and it makes Carmy feel a little less guilty about abandoning them.

To his credit, he does try to finish cooking quickly. All he had left was the sauce, and he already prepped all the ingredients. Between the aromatic browned onions, emulsifying the sauce with wine, and dousing the chicken in it, he couldn't have taken more than 15 minutes.

He wasn't sure what to expect upon returning. The worst possible scenario would be complete silence. Or screaming, but that was unlikely. On his walk there, though, plates in hand, he hears pleasant chatter.

“The coffee down the street is overpriced,” Carmy hears his roommate saying. There’s a murmur of agreement. When he walks in, he sees all the seats at the table are full. “Don’t get me wrong, it's not bad, but you'd get coffee just as good one block down the other way at—”

“At Ironclad?” Marcus guesses hopefully, leaning in.

“At Ironclad,” they confirm, and there's a mix of cheers and boos.

“Grit is better,” Sydney challenges. “More espresso bean options.”

“You make a compelling point,” they reply. “A latte for $4 though? In this economy? Just try and beat that.”

“It's less at 7-Eleven,” Richie chimes in, and everyone boos. “It's one of the pillars of the working class! Admit it!”

They're not like him, Carmy remembers. They're actually socially competent, and they can do well for themself in a group of strangers. Seemingly with little effort, they’ve already assimilated themself.

“Family's up,” Carmy announces, sliding plates into the table. “Lemon chicken piccata and caramelized rosemary potatoes.”

“Jeff, didn't you show us this last week?” Tina asks. She leans in to waft the savory smell towards her nose, and she hums in approval.

“Yeah, I did. I just thought it'd be good to make it for you guys.” He finishes getting the rest of the plates from the kitchen, making sure everyone has a plate of food in front of them. He can tell who's started eating by the pleased expressions on their faces. Other than the fact that their food has a dent in it, of course.

“Carmy. This is on fire,” Ebra praises, nodding in approval towards him.

“Ebra, it's ‘this is fire’, not ‘this is on fire’,” Gary corrects, amused. “But I agree.”

“Good, good,” Carmy says. He settles into his seat at the front of the table, which is…weird, actually. He doesn't remember the last time he's actually sat and had family with everyone.

“Actually eating with us for once, Carmen?” Richie points out. He says it like a jab, because that's always how he speaks, but it lacks the fight that it usually does. Carmy can hear what he's really expressing—I'm glad you're joining us.

“I am,” Carmy responds evenly. He feels his roommate's curious gaze to his right, but they don't say anything. That's when he notices that they haven't started eating yet. His mind supplies a million different reasons at once. None of them sound sane, so they'll go unspoken. “Not hungry?” he asks instead.

“No, I just wanted to wait until you were here.” They say it like it's not a big deal. “I always did it with my family growing up. Just a habit, I guess.” Now that they're saying it, some of Carmy's memories start to make more sense. He suddenly remembers sitting with them at home, and he had to take a call right before they were about to start their dinner. When he came back, their food was still untouched. He didn't think much of it then, but now…

“Oh, cool. That's…” In the time he's searching for a word, they've taken a bite. “How is it?” He asks instead.

“Fuck.” They're shaking their head like something's wrong, but it's obvious from the gigantic smile on their face that it's anything but. “Carmy. Carmy. You're crazy.”

“Am I, now?” He knows he's probably got a stupid expression on his face.

“So crazy. This is incredible.” They slice themself another piece of chicken. “These capers too, man. You actually made me like capers.”

“The capers made you like capers,” Carmy jokes, and they snort.

“No, that's severely underplaying your part in all this. Seriously, this is delicious.” They always get this glowing smile when they're eating good food. He's witnessed it in their shared kitchen, whether it's food from their mutually favorite joint or their own two hands. He's never seen them smile like this, though. It's a joy that's possibly unique to Carmy's own cooking.

Carmy doesn't know how to handle that. Not even a little bit.

“Glad to hear it,” he says instead, ignoring the fullness in his heart, and he starts eating.

“I’mma start this week,” Marcus begins. “I'm grateful for the fact that my roommate Chester actually managed not to spoil the episode I missed of this show we’re watching this past week. He’s still a jackass, though.”

“You can say it’s The Bachelor, we all already know,” Sydney teases. Marcus huffs, but he’s smiling.

“Just for that, you’re goin’ now,” he replies, motioning towards her with a fork.

“Sure, sure. Yeah, um, I’m grateful for my dad’s good health.” Sydney shrugs, nonchalant when there’s a group of “aww”s. “I am! He had this, ugh, awful case of bronchitis, but he's good now. It was scary. Tina?”

“Hm…” Tina chews thoughtfully as she thinks. “Oh! My dumbass son actually passed his finals. Even with some A’s!” She claps her hands excitedly and clasps them to rest under her chin. That gets a variety of cheers. “If he actually tries, he can be so smart. But not without stressing me the fuck out first. What about you, Rich?”

“Easy. I found that pine cologne that Marcus hates,” Richie says, smug.

“I noticed,” Marcus replies mildly. “Everyone hates it, by the way.”

“I smell like the fuckin’ forest! It's majestic as shit.” Richie makes a show of sniffing his shirt amongst all the booing mixed with laughter. That's when he looks to Carmy’s roommate, who's been politely listening and eating. “You wanna have a go of it, guest of honor?”

“Oh, sure. Something I'm grateful for, right?” They put down their utensils and thoughtfully rub their index finger across their chin. “Well…I’m feeling pretty grateful to be eating this delicious food. It's not often I get to eat food this good.” It's not that good, Carmy wants to say to combat the fluttering in his stomach, but it's far too contradictory. He made sure to make it good since they were going to be eating it. “How about you, Carmy?”

“Huh?” Carmy's been on autopilot, comfortable to watch everyone else. He's not much of a participant. Now everyone's got their eyes on him. “I'm grateful for, uh…”

I'm grateful for that smile you get when you eat my cooking, he wants to say. I'm grateful to have someone like you.

“I'm grateful to be in good company,” Carmy says. That receives a round of hearty reactions, including a look from his roommate that he can only describe as affectionate. He pointedly looks back down at his half-eaten plate when he feels his ears getting warm.

“Aw, you softie,” Richie snickers. “What, are we embarrassin’ you?”

“Shut it,” he mutters, but there's barely any heat behind it. His reaction only creates more laughter around the table. “Ebra, you go next.”

Little does Richie know what he's really embarrassed about. Everyone's teasing isn't helping, sure, but it's not his fellow chefs, it's them. It's their stupid smile that he keeps looking back at. It's that he knows it's from the food he made for them, it's that he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings taking up residence in his heart.

Between the energetic chatter and the cleaned off plates, Carmy realizes that a part of what he's feeling is happiness. It's an odd sensation, which says a lot about the type of person that he is. It's the truth, though. He's just cooked a good meal for people he cares a lot about, and the happiness that has come with that is weird.

Not bad weird, though. Good weird.

If anyone noticed how strange he looked smiling with a fork in his mouth, they didn't mention it.

Family goes by faster than Carmy is used to. That's what happens when you actually join in for once, he supposes. He just wasn't expecting it to wrap up so quickly. Or, it's more accurate to say he didn't want to see them go already.

“Guess you guys have to get ready for service now, right?” They've returned to his office to grab their jacket, giving the two of them a brief moment of privacy.

“Yeah. Service starts at 3.” He sighs, and they sympathetically return his sigh.

“Right. Well, I really enjoyed eating with everyone. And the food? Seriously, it was so good. You knocked it out of the park. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re seriously incredible at what you do.”

“I don’t hear that so much anymore,” he admits. “Not like I used to. Um…” He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. I should really cook more outside of this place. Maybe cook for us in our kitchen for once.”

“You know I’m here for that. I could have your cooking any time,” they gush, like it doesn’t make Carmy’s heart palpitate. “I get it, through. You spend all day cooking here, I get that you don’t wanna come home and cook.”

“Yeah, but…it's different.” It's different because it’s for you, he wants to say, but as expected, he doesn’t.

“W-What?” Suddenly, their cheeks go pink. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“...” The realization buffers in his head before fully forming. He actually said that aloud after all. Too late to take it back. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I just think, I should give you a break from making leftovers for the week,” he stutters in a weak attempt to cover his accidental affection. “And, um, I just want to, because I…”

“Because…?” He’s taking way too fucking long to finish this sentence. Their face doesn’t betray any impatience, though. It never does, and seeing that makes him relax.

“Because I—like that you like my cooking.”

“I love your cooking,” they correct, their smile teasing.

“Um, right—you love—” he tries to fix his words again, but this one’s far too much to say. The butterflies in his stomach feel similar to nausea. The conflict must show on his face in an insane way, because their smile turns into a wide grin full of amusement.

“It was a good attempt.” That makes him laugh a little. “Hey, if you’re saying I get to bring your cooking to work this next week, I’m not objecting.”

“I’ll try my best.” His eyes catch the clock on the wall. He needs to wrap this up. “I’m not trying to kick you out, but I really gotta get back now.”

“It’s cool. I should be heading out anyway. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah,” he says, poorly hiding the affection in it, “I’ll see you at home. And, uh—thanks. For coming.”

“Of course. I had fun,” they say with a smile. “See ya.”

He watches them leave through the entrance, hearing that familiar sound of the ringing bell, and they're gone.

Carmy is left standing there with an odd warmth in his chest. It doesn't overwhelm him, doesn't suffocate him, just sits there. It's a strange, but nice feeling.

This is what happiness feels like, he realizes, and in this moment, fear is nowhere to be found.

. . . . .

The dinner rush is fine. It's just fine. It's just another thing for Carmy to get through, and he does. Just another obstacle between him and getting home.

A wishful part of him always hopes that they'll be able to close before 10, but it is a very lofty wish to make, especially on a Saturday. With great regret, he puts his car into park at 10:44 pm. The night air is frigid and awful against his brittle dry skin and cracked lips. He can't get to his front door fast enough.

Opening the front door sends warm gusts of heated air across his face. He can't help his relieved sigh, especially not when he sees them sitting on the couch. They’re dressed in a loose t-shirt and bike shorts, a combo that makes his heart pulse.

“Hey, welcome back.” They give him a little wave. He finds it surprisingly easy to smile and wave back. This strange joy keeps finding new ways to pop up. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Fine,” he says, because it was. It was fine. “Busy, but normal. You know how it is. Weekends.” They hum in agreement. He kicks his shoes off by the door, walks over to where they're seated. This is when he notices the laundry basket on the floor with stacks of folded clothes. They grab a sweater from the pile of clothes on the coffee table and lay it out on their lap. “Doin’ laundry?”

“Yeah. I'm trying to be responsible.” They smooth out the sweater, working out the creases in the collar with their fingers. “I think some of your socks ended up in the wash with my stuff.” They motion to a neat stack of miscellaneous white socks sitting on the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah. These are mine.” He picks them up, turns them around in his hand. “Sorry, guess I missed them when I was last doing laundry.”

“It's fine. They're just extra clean now.”

“And folded.” He does his best to put his socks down just as they were even though he’ll have to move them anyway. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” They pull up another piece of clothing from their basket. Carmy immediately recognizes it as they throw it over to him. It’s his boxers.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes on reflex, heating up with embarrassment. He crumples it up in his hand.

“It’s chill. Besides, didn’t you get one of my bras once?”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot,” he says, like he needed a moment to remember it. It’s all a facade. He couldn’t get that moment out of his memories he tried. It was very lacy, and it made him more nervous than someone his age should’ve been.

“Oh, I forgot to mention when I saw you earlier. I paid the water bill today. It was 48 something.” They lean forward to grab a white envelope. The monthly payment from the water company. They flip it open and scan the paper again. “It was—48 dollars and 19 cents, to be exact.”

“Lower than last month.” He is grateful to be discussing the water bill instead of their underwear. “Much lower, actually.”

“I’ve been trying to cut back on my 30 minute showers, and I’d like to think that’s why.”

“Good job,” he says jokingly, and they pretend to bow like they’ve won an award. “I still think 30 minutes is just a little too long,” he teases after. This is a familiar conversation.

“Maybe to you, Mr. 5 minute showers,” they scoff. They kindly don’t mention how little he actually showers. “I have a lot of serious business to attend to in there! Lots of meetings, lots of calls…” They snicker, and he makes a dismissive noise, but he’s smiling. He's never been good at hiding his amusement around them. “So, yeah. Just venmo me when you get the chance.”

“Already on it,” he says. As soon as he sends it, their phone dings with the notification.

“Thank you, thank you. And, ah, not to bombard you with more housekeeping, but I'm gonna try and go grocery shopping this monday. Wanted to ask if you need me to pick up anything.”

“Uh…” Detergent, coffee, soap, peanut butter, bread, chips, he notes in his head, rattling off a list. “I need a lot of stuff, so don't worry about it. Actually—” He turns to look at them, and they look up from their laundry with a curious look. “When were you thinking about going?”

“It's my day off, so anytime. What, wanna join me?”

“If you don't mind going in the morning, then yeah.” It feels weird, asking for accommodations like this. When you're running a business that keeps you until 10 pm everyday, though, you don't have a choice. “Like, 9 am?”

“Not earlier?” They smile knowingly. “I don't mind. We can do 8 am, if you want.”

“I wouldn't wanna make you wake up any earlier than you already have to on your day off.”

“It's no different to me, really. Besides, I'm offering.”

“Right. Uh…” I shouldn't push it, he thinks to himself with near certainty, but he stops. Takes a moment. They're offering. “Sure, then. 8 am.”

“8 am,” they reply easily. A wistful smile appears on their face. “When's the last time we've gone grocery shopping together?”

“I can't remember, so at least over a month.” That's also the last time I properly went grocery shopping, he remembers, but he doesn't want to share that.

“Way too long.” They shake their head. “It's just hard to line our schedules up. You think it'd be easier since we live together.”

“Y'think,” he echoes tiredly. “Not like I’m makin’ it any easier, being at The Beef everyday and all.”

“Well…yeah, I suppose not. It is a little scary how long you go without a day off.” They make a face. “When's the last day you've had a day off?”

“Dunno. Just got a lot to do…all the time.”

“All the time.” They sigh. “Is that really how it's supposed to be? Being a business owner?”

“When your business is fucked, yeah.” The growing distress on their face makes the corners of his mouth twitch in an amused smile. “Scraping by from week to week.”

“Damn.” They raise their eyebrows, shake their head. “I don't know how you do it.”

“I'm used to it.” It's the truth. The longer he thinks about it, though, the festering dread starts to creep out from the hole he's kicked it in. So he changes the subject before it can come out and choke him to death. “Mind if I crack open the window for a smoke?”

“Only if you don't let me join you,” they reply with a wide grin, and he laughs.

After changing out of his work clothes into a tank top and gray sweatpants, he sits himself at their designated window. He cracks it open just a smidge—it's too cold tonight. The cars are quiet, at least. He pulls his pack from his pocket and places a cigarette into his mouth.

“You want a cig?” Carmy asks when they take the empty seat across from him. Their smoking device of choice today is their water pipe. It looks like a juicebox from the packaging, shape, and the plastic straw arching out of it.

“Can I just take a hit off yours instead? Not really in the mood for a whole cig right now.” He wordlessly passes his lit cig to them. They take a slow hit, the orange glow creeping up it. They look down at it and frown. “Sorry, I got a little lip gloss on it. I didn't realize I still had some on.”

“It's fine.” He takes it back and inspects it. Little oily pink smudges lay in a messy circle on the filter. “As long as it's not like that other lipstick.”

“God, no.” They drag a hand over their face. “I know I keep saying it, but I'm so sorry about that. That was mortifying.”

“Don't worry about it. Dust under the rug.” When he brings his mouth back around his cig, a faint stickiness clings to his lips. He bulldozes through the jittery feeling it brings with it.

They sit there smoking side by side for a minute. His gaze flickers between the moving city scenery out the window and the sight of them smoking from their bubbler. Clearly one is more captivating than the other. He watches the translucent smoke fill the glass, go up the straw, and out of their lips.

They catch him staring. His only saving grace is that he doesn't flinch.

“You want some?” They ask, turning the bubbler towards him. So that's what they thought he was doing. He can live with that.

“Sure, if you're offering.”

“Yeah, I am. This one's real sleepy shit, just so you know.”

“Good. I need that tonight.” The taste of the weed is strangely floral as it goes down, but he can't place what it is. “Did you mix this with something?”

“Not this time. Tastes weird though, right? It's kinda…detergent-y. One of my friends says it tastes like dryer sheets.”

“So am I smoking laundromat weed? Tide pod weed?” It's a stupid joke, but Carmy finds that the dumber the joke, the harder it makes them laugh.

“Laundromat weed,” they wheeze. “No, it's not tide pod weed. I can't afford name brand.”

“Equate weed, then?”

“Kroger brand, actually,” they say, “but I hear Up & Up is pretty good, too.”

“I'm sure it's just as good as name-brand shit.”

“Most of the time.”

Carmy clears the rest of the chamber of the excess smoke before sliding it back across the table to them.

“Thanks.” The buzz is setting in. The mix of cannabis and nicotine always feels a little weird, but in a thrilling way. “I really just need to get my own shit, stop mooching off you.”

“I steal enough of your cigs, so don't worry about it.” This is when he notices that their eyes have gone a little pink from the weed. He also notes to himself that he shouldn't be looking so closely. “So, did something good happen today?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You just seem to be in a particularly good mood, is all.”

“Oh.” He immediately knows why. Surely he can't just be honest with them, but the high's lowered his barriers, and he decides to just let himself say it. “Yeah, something good did happen, now that you mention it.”

“That's good,” they say, like it has nothing to do with them. “It's nice to see you with a little less stress on you. What happened?”

“You don't already know?” He asks, because there's no way they don't know. From the look on their face, though, they really don't. “It was you.”

“...” Their face colors. “Oh,” they say, just like he did a second ago. He likes seeing them smile with a blush to match. “I mean, I thought, maybe, I just didn't wanna assume…”

“It was nice. Having you there with everyone, I mean.”

“They're really cool. You've got some great coworkers.”

“I do,” he replies quietly, faintly. It's true, even when he wants to let The Beef catch on fire. “Everyone really liked you.”

“Really?” The surprise is clear on their face.

“Yeah, really.” Throughout the rest of the day, the others had come up to him expressing some sort of approval. Not that he needed their approval. It felt nice, though. How'd you find someone so…nice? Marcus had asked, entirely genuine, and all Carmy could do was shrug. It was a good question.

How was a person like him allowed to have anything good in his life?

“Am I allowed to ask what they said?”

“You're allowed,” he says, amused. “Marcus said you were really nice. So did Syd. Seems you hit it off with them.”

“I think I did, too.” They sit with his reply for a moment, staring out the window and idly tapping their fingers on the bubbler. “Feels weird.”

“Weird?”

“A good weird,” they clarify. “You ever get weirded out by the fact that people talk about you when you're not there? And it's like, good things they're saying, too?”

“Constantly,” he admits. “I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Their hands are fiddling with the ends of their hair. “I guess I just have a hard time believing that people will think the best of me when I'm not around. Like…like, I don't know, just…”

“No, I understand.” Carmy's feels acutely more alert now. “It's like, uh, object permanence, kinda. But with—with people.”

“That's exactly it!” They exclaim, and then they deflate again. “It's stupid, but I just…”

“It's not stupid,” he assures them, and their lips quirk in a tiny smile. “If it helps, I…I don't think the worst of you when you're not around.”

“Hearing you say it aloud makes me realize how crazy it is for me to think like that,” they murmur, “but thank you. That does…that does make me feel better, actually.”

“Sure.” It's better if you don't know the details, he thinks to himself, reminiscing on naked dreams and daydreams around their bright smile.

He really shouldn’t sit on the couch with them. It’s late, and he needs to be in his own bed at this time of night. Unfortunately, logic isn’t at the forefront when he sees them. He’s high and wants to stick to them like glue, so he does. They’ve turned on these HD videos of people making drinks. It’s like sensory videos for babies, except for adults, they told him, and that got the two of them giggling.

It’s nice. Far too nice than what Carmy’s used to. But this time, he doesn’t want to let it go, and he’s not afraid of that, either.

I want this to last, he thinks, unafraid, and he falls asleep listening to their voice.

. . . . .

Carmy wakes up by jolting up from the couch. He’s hunched and heaving for air, and all he can think about is that he needs to see Michael.

“Mike,” he calls out. His voice is raspy and shaken. His body feels like a piece of stretched twine. He’s about to call out for Mike again until he lifts his head to see his roommate who is definitely not Michael.

Fuck.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Their expression is alert, but gentle. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just keeps his mouth shut and breathes heavily through his nose. He manages a nod. He imagines it doesn’t look very convincing.

“Just need a second,” he gets out. God, he sounds awful.

“You’re fine. You don’t need to explain anything, just…take your time.”

“I thought today was going to be a good day,” he gets out between gritted teeth. “Stupid. Fuckin’ stupid of me. Fuck. Mi—” He cuts himself off. That indescribable fear he thought was far has resurfaced, pushing in between the cracks in his ribs, desperate in the space it’s vying for.

Why the fuck are his eyes hot? He shouldn’t cry. Not over this. Not over anything.

“Who’s—?” They stop themself, mouth closing in a thin line. “Sorry. I don’t need to ask.” The question starts and ends there, but he knows what they’re asking.

Who’s Mike?

It feels like two knives sharpening each other, the tinny sound of steel against steel. It pierces him once, twisting, turning into a dull, painful ache. Like an old wound that hasn’t had enough time to heal, an old throbbing scar.

Michael.

“He...” Carmy starts, but it’s too much. It’s too much, and his hands are trembling, shaking terribly. It’s gonna happen again. He can’t do this.

Softer hands hold his, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of his dry hands. With each rotation on his skin, with each lap, Carmy slows down. He returns.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they whisper. Their hands are so gentle. “I didn’t mean to ask, it just sorta popped out.”

“No, it’s okay,” he responds without thinking, surprising even himself. Even though it’s not really okay, even though he doesn’t really wanna talk about it, maybe he does, because he hasn’t gone completely silent yet. “He was my brother.”

“Ah...” Realization sets in their voice. “I see.”

“He was a drug addict,” he explains, pretending like saying it doesn’t feel like crumbling dough, like sugar dissolving into boiling water. “Killed himself.”

The grip on his hands tighten. He appreciates the feeling.

This is the mark you’ve left, Carmy thinks suddenly. How fucked up is that, Mike? The first thing I tell people is the last thing you ever did. When did you stop being my best friend and start being my older brother who killed himself?

“I’m sorry,” they say quietly, because of course they do. That’s all anyone can think to say. Carmy’s too tired to feel angry about that anymore. “When did he pass away?”

“Last February,” he answers like it’s a quiz question, like it doesn’t mean anything. “It’ll be a year in a couple months.”

“I see.” Their hands are holding his gently again. Carmy finds he prefers this. “That must’ve been really hard. Still is, I’m sure.”

“...Still is, yeah. Especially with the restaurant. It was his,” he explains, when he sees the confusion beginning in their eyes. “He was the previous owner, and he left it. To me.”

“So that’s why you’re here and not in New York?” They ask. He nods.

“I’m trying to fix it.” He doesn’t say I’m fixing it, because that would mean he’s made progress.

“I don’t know how it was before, but it seems like you are fixing it. I know I’ve barely been there, you know it a million times better than I do, it just...it seems like people are happy there.”

“Happy,” he muses. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Everyone seems to really like you,” they go on. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

“It is. Doesn’t fix the debt, but...” He shrugs half-heartedly. No, not even half. Quarter-heartedly. “It’s somethin’.”

“I had no clue.” There’s something regretful, rueful in their words. “This whole time, you’ve just been...”

“Don’t,” he interrupts.

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he backtracks. “I just mean...don’t give me your pity,” he mutters. It’s a bitter thing to say. Luckily, he’s so drained it comes out without any of the venom. It’s better that way. They don’t deserve his poison.

“It’s not pity,” they argue, their reply so instant it sobers him. “It’s...respect, I guess.”

“Respect?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I couldn’t handle all the stuff you do, but you’re doing great.”

“I barely sleep most nights,” he says suddenly. He’s unsure why. It’s like he has to prove something. “When I do, there’s nightmares. You saw that tonight and yesterday. I almost burned down the house. My stomach’s still fucked. I’m not...” His eyes feel hot again. Breathing suddenly feels different. There’s ringing, static clogging his ears. “I’m not doing great,” he realizes with stunning, raw clarity, and the pain of it knocks the wind out of him.

“You’re doing great,” they say again. “Look at me, Carmy.”

He looks at them. Their eyes are warm.

"I,” he starts, but he’s having an awful time trying to breathe. When he inhales, he feels like he’s splintering, a unified whole breaking into jagged, drifting parts.

Dread overtakes him in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. Hasn’t he already done enough?

“Breathe in with me.” They inhale, slowly, counting to 8. He counts with them like a lifeline, which it partially is. His breaths come out staggered, but he claws forward. Tries his best to keep his eyes interlocked with theirs. “And exhale...”

He clings onto every beat in their voice, every circle their thumbs make. Their words wrap around him, bringing the broken pieces back together, clicking them into place again. They restore his sense of gravity, returning his feet to solid ground with every breath.

“You’re okay,” they say softly. One of their hands moves up to brush back hair from his face. The feeling of their fingers tucking hair behind his ear makes his eyes flutter briefly shut.

“I’m okay,” he whispers back. It doesn’t sound very convincing. Fake it until you make it, he reminds himself.

“You’re okay.” They take one last deep breath with him, and when he exhales, his head feels clear again.

“Sorry. That was...” He shakes his head. “I don’t usually...”

“Never gotten one of those before?”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve had tons of panic attacks before, just...not in front of anyone else,” he finishes awkwardly.

“Yeah?” Carmy finds himself looking down at their conjoined hands instead of their eyes. “Well, you certainly don’t have to apologize. I get them too, from time to time.”

“Thank you. For...calming me down.” He takes another deep breath to steady himself. “It helped a lot.”

“No problem.” There’s that glowing smile he can’t get enough of. “How’re you feeling now?”

“I…” He tries to pinpoint something in all the noise. It’s proving difficult. “I’m calmer,” he notices.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know what to, how to, explain my…feelings.” The words are so haphazardly put together that he stammers as they tumble on the way out of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great.” From anyone, the sentiment would make him shut down even more, turn his head the other way. From them, though…

“I’m okay,” he says, and it’s the truth. “I think, um, just a lot hit me all at once.”

“I get it. It often happens like that, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I just...” He briefly shuts his eyes, and there’s a flash of Michael. “It’s hard. Doing all this without him.” They nod. “I never wanted to. Not on my own.”

“He must’ve been a great guy.”

“He was,” he starts, and his throat closes up. They seem to understand, because they don’t say anything else. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad for it. This is all he can bear.

It’s hard to put into words, the way Carmy feels right now. He’s never been great at describing how he feels, even when he was a kid. Sometimes he’d cry about the wrong things, and he wouldn’t cry at the right things. But there wasn’t quite any right or wrong way to feel. It just was. It just is.

The grief comes in waves. It always has, and it always will. Each wave is a natural disaster on its own, a tsunami that fills his lungs with water, leaving nothing in its wake. But something about this one just washed slowly over him, leaving just droplets of water in his hair. If anything, he just feels...lighter.

He supposes this is what really trusting someone feels like.

The moment of peace is eventually ruined by his stomach growling. Loudly.

“Hungry?” They say first with an amused grin.

“I guess.” He hadn’t realized. “I didn’t eat much today.”

“Hm, I do suppose you had a late lunch, too, if that matters.”

“Sure. That’s also all I had to eat today.” He doesn’t know why he lets that slip, but he does.

“Oh no!” That makes them jump up, detaching their hands from his. He tries not to mourn the loss for too long. “No wonder you’re hungry.”

“It’s fine. It’s like this sometimes,” he says, like it’s a normal and healthy thing to be doing. “Just one of those days.” They frown.

“What do you do when your stomach gets like this? What do you eat?”

“I don’t eat,” he answers honestly, and they gasp.

“Carmy! That is not the answer. I mean, like, don’t force it down, but is there really nothing you can stomach?”

“If I start chewing, I just feel worse. I’ll usually just have some water and a cigarette. If I have time, coffee.”

“You can’t be having that French girl breakfast. You just can’t.” That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re becoming a French girl, and you’re laughing. Carmy! This is serious.” That only makes him laugh harder.

“Do all French girls also have stomach issues?” He wheezes out. That sets off their laughter.

“I don’t know. You tell me, Ms. France.”

“Wait, stop, I don’t wanna be in a beauty pageant.”

“Then stop following their diet! Look—” They try to speak again, and they cut themself off with more laughter. “Okay. No. I’m fine. I’m not laughing. You, you need to eat. No skipping meals.”

“I usually end up having lunch,” he argues.

“Y’know, as someone whose whole life is food, I would expect you to know the importance of breakfast more.”

“Just because I know it’s important doesn’t mean I’m gonna have it.”

“Hm. I don’t love your reasoning. Stop laughing! I’m mad at you. I’m so mad I’m gonna give you homework.”

“Homework? Just so you know, I wasn’t a good student.”

“It’s okay, I grade on a curve. Here’s your homework—you are going to use my protein powder that is sitting in the cabinet to the right of the fridge, and you’re going to put it in some milk. And then you’re gonna drink that shit. That’s what I have when I wake up nauseous.”

“I think I can try that.” His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Do you accept late work?” That makes them sigh dramatically, making a show of it.

“I suppose. Just don’t make it a habit! I won’t be this lenient every time.”

“Yeah, you will,” Carmy says without thinking. They gasp.

“No, I won’t! I can be mean.”

“I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

“That’s actually a really nice thing to say, but keep this up and you’ll see my mean side!”

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. That just ruffles them up further.

“You just don’t seem real, sometimes,” he admits. “It scares me.”

“It does?” He has to commend them for their calm reaction.

“Good things scare me, I think. I know that's…fucked up, but…”

“No, it makes sense. It shouldn't, but…it does to me.” He can't place their expression. It's some mixture of nostalgic and haunted. Or maybe just plain haunted.

“Yeah?” They nod. “That's not good,” he mumbles, and the beauty of their shared, awful truth makes them both smile.

“Well.” Their cheeks are less flushed, but there's still a dusting of color, like faint cocoa powder on cake. “I promise that I am, in fact, very real.”

“Pinky promise?” Carmy doesn't know where that comes from. They have a habit of bringing a strange silliness out of him.

“Pinky promise. I'll even prove it to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that, exactly?”

“Easy.” They outstretch their arms, and it clicks in his head with a rush. “Unless you're the sort of person that's not into hugging.”

“No, I am.” The words rush out, as if they're desperate to keep the offer on the table. “I mean, I hug my family when I see ‘em.”

“I'll admit, I'm a hugger. I give my friends hugs all the time. I just didn't know if you minded that sort of thing.”

“I don't mind. I like them, um…just don't usually initiate ‘em, I guess.” The anticipation is speeding up the beat of his heart like a coach on the sidelines.

“Then bring it in, big guy,” they say, and he leans in.

The last time they hugged each other, Carmy was sleep-deprived and they were half-lucid from alcohol. This time is different. It's purposeful, tight, and all-encompassing. Their arms go over his shoulders and link around his neck to bring him in close. His arms naturally slot underneath theirs, meeting in the middle of their back.

He can feel their hair tickling his neck. His heartbeat is in his ears, and he prays they can't hear it. They squeeze him, light, and his eyes flutter shut.

“This is better,” Carmy whispers. He doesn't know why he's whispering. He supposes his mouth being so close to their ear makes him quiet.

“Better than what?” Their voice has gone soft to match his. The vibrations next to his ear send a slim shiver up his spine.

“Than the first time we hugged.” He pauses. “Unless you don't remember.”

“I remember.” They laugh, breathy and shy. “God. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn't.” He tightens his hold on them. He doesn't know if they meant for the hug to last this long, but they're warm and perfect to hold. They smell like smoke and a flower he can't place.

“Good.” He feels them turning their head, shifting their face into his hair, and he thinks his heart is going to explode, turning into a red jam inside of him. “So, am I real or what?”

“Mm, you're real. You've convinced me.” He thinks he could fall asleep like this. Sadly, as soon as he says that, they take it as the cue to unlink their bodies.

Their hair's messy from where it was pressed up against the side of his head. He notices how cold he feels without them.

“If you need reminding, just let me know.” Their cheeks are rosy again. Cute. “Like I said, I'm a hugger, so…”

“I wouldn't be opposed.” I think I need that, actually, he thinks to himself.

“Okay. Good to know.”

“Um.” Awkwardness is suddenly his primary emotion. “Shit, I didn't even think to check the time. What time is it?”

“Lemme check.” They pull out their phone from their pocket. “12:40 am.”

Carmy sighs.

“Better than I thought.” When he stands up off the couch, he feels every aching muscle protesting in disapproval. “I should sleep in my actual bed. But, um…” He fidgets with his hands, anxious. “Thank you. For staying with me. And talking to me about stuff.”

“You don't have to thank me. Thank you for trusting me with all that.” They cock their head to the side as they look up at him. Cute, he thinks again, unbearably. “I feel like I know you a lot better.”

“Mm.” Carmy feels his face getting hot, meaning he has to change the topic as quickly as possible. “It feels nice. Being known by you. I…” He thinks about that night he held their hair behind them as they cried into the toilet. I want to know you, Carmy, they whispered, beautifully genuine even in their drunken stupor. “I want to know you, too,” he finally allows himself to say, and he knows by the full feeling in his chest that it's the truth.

They get that shy smile he's seen so much of today. Carmy realizes he likes that he's the one that keeps making them smile like that.

“Okay, then. I wouldn't mind that.” They stand up from the couch next, and they stretch their arms far above their head. “Maybe another night, though. It's late.”

“Right. I didn't mean…”

“Hey, if we didn't both have work tomorrow, I'd love to keep talking.” There goes their uncanny ability to wash his anxieties away so easily, a washcloth dissolving dirt. They start walking down the hallway to their bedrooms, and he trails behind them on instinct. “But I think we've kept each other up late too many nights recently.”

“I think so, yeah.” Without context, that'd make his stomach squirm with the implications. Their bedroom's first down the hall, so they move to hover in their doorway. “Um,” he starts, a sudden unspeakable urge gripping him, “just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Fuck it, Carmy thinks. Fuck it.

With only minimal hesitation, he leans down and pulls them into a hug. They make a small noise of surprise, but they reciprocate almost instantly.

“Just wanted to double check,” he mumbles. He keeps the hug short this time, because he knows if he doesn't, he won't be able to let go.

“Still real, right?”

“Still real.”

“Good idea, to double check.” They step backwards, one hand on their door. “G'night, Carmy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“G'night,” he murmurs back. “See you.”

I'm fucked, Carmy realizes once the door shuts. The hallway is dark, and there is an unusual amount of good in his life. I'm so fucked.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my fics #OKAYY this ones a big one. i had a LOT of fun with the prose in this. i can rly feel myself improving which is awesome #was gonna make it shorter but then i just kept playing around with the dialogue and! well here we are #also thanks again everyone that's actually stuck with this fic. i still have a hard time believe ppl rly read this with how long it is #carmy is on the verge of snapping soon.... i have a feeling next ch is gonna be a big one folks #alexithymia fic

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meanbossart · 3 months

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its very funny to me that most of the bhaalists you meet are pretty grungy then we have the bhaalspawn. gaudy and decked out to the nines in the highest of Murder Royalty fashion. i also love how your Durge's use of accessories feels so ostentatious next to Orin's (which is saying something). nice bit of characterization!

also a bit of an aside since you talked about pre-tadpole DURGE's relationship with the other Chosen and i've thought they were interesting/unique interpretations so far; what did he think of Ketheric?

THANK YOU FOR NOTICING, that is very much intentional! DU drow spent several years being pretty much something of a feral child/teen, constantly urged (hah) on by Scleritas' promises of greatness and status if he could just survive long enough to make it to Baldur's Gate, to the temple, and hence prove himself worthy of his heritage. I figured that someone like that, once they acquired what they wanted, would absolutely lavish in it.

He basically role-played royalty and godhood to anyone he met. This of course contrasted terribly with his vile behavior, which he could only keep under wraps for so long during any interaction. This was not someone you wanted as a guest at your fancy royal ball.

Sorry, for your actual question now LOL

As much as I love Ketheric, their relationship was probably the least interesting of the three. While Gortash let pre-pole drow get under his skin, and Orin had years-long rapport with him for an interesting relationship to flourish, I don't think Ketheric would have ever given him the time of day. Certainly not for a lack of trying though; I can picture DU drow nagging him for his age, his history, his choices, his daughter. He's old and tired and far too familiar with the likes of him, however. More crestfallen than usual today, Thorm, I take your most recent date with Melodia didn't culminate in much. Have you tried warming her up first? That works for me whenever I visit your daughter - Oh, what is that look? My most wizened consort, has your manhood diminished beyond restoration? Is that it? My apologies, Insensitive of me to brag - Insensitive of me to even be here. My presence alone must have you reminiscing of far more virile years. You can look, if you want, if Shar minds not that you take pleasure on it - you do, don't you? You must miss it. You must miss it dearly. Don't despair, your body might not be what it once was, but if it serves as comfort, your legacy is damned to last much longer despite all your efforts to the contrary. And I, for one, am most impressed at your willingness to turn your pride into a putrid death-pit - Ketheric, Ketheric - has the cat gotten your tongue? Ketheric - well, alright, I will see you some other time. Lovely chattin' as always, Ketheric.

#ask #DU drow #ketheric thorm

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bluecollarmcandtf · 9 months

Text

Hypnotized Help: Chris

"I've got the gym all ready for you, master," Hemsworth states with his famous smile, "What would you like to work on today?"

I hypnotized the actor awhile ago to quit the high-paying job he was used to. As far as he understands it, Hollywood is not a place he belongs. Chris Hemsworth now understands that he's meant to be my personal trainer.

Of course, it took some deep reconditioning to convince him of that.

"Let's keep up the same workout," I tell him.

"Yes, master. Then you'll be working on the back and arms today," he explains, "I'll make your pre-training shake for you."

I watch with amusement as the stud scrambles to prepare my exercises. He's my gym coach, which means it's his sole responsibility to get me into bodybuilding shape. The guy has already gotten me to gain plenty of lean muscle, so he must have some idea of what he's doing.

"This is for you, Master," Chris hands me the shake, "Alright, let's get you pumped up!"

With a flick of the remote, my personal trainer blasts energetic music before eagerly watching me down the protein mix. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. I programmed a deep desire for him to want the best for me. Motivation has always been a struggle for me in the gym, so having a trainer around who doubles as my biggest cheerleader is a good influence.

"That's nasty!" I toss the empty cup to Chris after swallowing the entirety of the liquid.

"It'll maximize the work you're about to do!" the superhero grins, "Let's get started with some simple calisthenics."

The actor begins walking me through increasingly brutal exercises, making sure to do a few reps himself to give me the best impression of how to do them.

"Don't forget to tuck your glutes in," he reminds me, gently guiding my hips with his hands.

He puts me through a few hours of intense exercises, but I beat my personal records in almost every set I lift. It's easy to push myself with Hemsworth cheering me on.

"Alright, that's enough for today," I pant, "Don't forget to wipe everything down."

"Already on it, Master," he replies, marching around with a spray bottle and rag, "Don't forget to stretch tonight before you turn in."

"I'm going to forget unless you come and remind me," I sigh, "Just wait in my room until I'm done with the day. Then you can walk me through the stretches."

"Yes, master," he replies.

I need to hit the showers so I can move on with my day, but I can't help lingering to watch the former superhero cleaning my sweat off the bench. Part of his responsibilities include wiping down all the equipment before and after I use it. I think I also put him in charge of laundering all the sweaty towels, but I can't remember.

"Chris."

"Yes master?" he pauses and smiles up at me.

"How's my progress?" I ask, knowing full well my body has never looked better, "Am I on track to be an even hotter hero than you?"

"Oh definitely, master," he instantly assured me, "You are already in phenomenal shape, and in a few months, you'll be bigger than I ever was. Then all the ladies will rightfully be after you, master!"

"Sounds good," I enjoy the praise, "Why don't you finish cleaning all this up in a little bit."

"Is there something you need me to do, master?" Chris asks.

"Yeah, you need to wash me down in the shower," I command, "It's a new responsibility you have. You got me this sweaty, so you're going to clean it up."

"Of course, master," he says, putting the rag and spray bottle down, "That only seems right. I hope you aren't too uncomfortable, standing in your sweat right now."

I can't help but harden as we step into my locker room. Thinking about Chris Hemsworth cleaning me off in the shower is too much. The image of him beneath the water in his little uniform and on his knees scrubbing my tired legs, is too much.

The former celebrity will just have to work around my throbbing erection.

#hypnotized help #gay hypnosis #hypno story #servant #gay mind control

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mins-fins · 3 months

Text

all flights are delayed !

"i like to call myself a pretty man connoisseur.."

synopsis: your sad to say it, but you don't have much going on in your life. you have a very time consuming major, just a few friends, barely any time to go out, and spend most of your free time either a: working, or b: sleeping. so for once, when you finally have the friday off, and your dragged off to go watch a football game between a rival school of yours, you really do wish you were anywhere else. somehow though, it turns out to be one of the best things to happen to you, because a charming oreo–haired musical theater major from your rival school just happens to saunter his way into your life, you didn't expect to fall in love in your junior year, but your also not complaining!

pairing: xiao dejun x male!reader

genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, musical theater major!xiaojun x health science major!reader, fluff, like the lightest of angst, lowkey fast burn 😖

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing(?), gay people, a little miscommunication, reader having a crisis over oreo xiaojun, probably a lot of repetitive phrases, huang guanheng is EVERYWHERE

word count: 12.8k

notes: OKAAAAAAAY hello! now in the beginning i really did enjoy writing this but after like the fourth scene its all so disgusting and jumbled up but i am also very proud of myself because this is the longest ever fic i have ever written (it is all xiao dejuns fault), actually it is ALL of nct's fault because why do i have a bunch of 8k word fics of so many nct members..😢 anyway if this seems any rushed or makes absolutely no sense at times its because im tired and i worked extra today but it doesn't really matter because constructive criticism is good (i shouldn't even publish this tbh) but there is a first for everything! enjoy!

YOU'VE NEVER BEEN A FOOTBALL FAN. now you know that might be a little of a sour opinion, especially to the men in your family, but it's just never been a sport you enjoy. it is just a little fun to watch, especially when drunk, because the sight of men in tight ass clothes running around a field chasing a ball is possibly one of the funniest things you think your drunk mind has ever seen. which is why now— in the stands, listening to the loud shouts and screams from your schoolmates, and rival scholars, you feel as if your ears have just been popped.

after all the days of working, and doing nothing but schoolwork, you were glad to have the rest of the friday off. there was nothing else you wanted to do but put on an oversized sweater, make a bowl of ramen and rewatch gossip girl for the seventy fifth time already (yes, you keep count), but no— guanheng decided he was going to drag you out of the dorm to watch stupid football game, one about "school spirit" or whatever, you weren't paying attention to him when he decided to go on his ramble, and now he's abandoned you once again! probably off to go talk to one of his 1000 other friends or something.

you almost consider leaving, but then you witness the amount of people you'd have to maneuver through, the amount of excuse me's you'd have to utter, the amount of pushing you'd endure as you tried to make your way through the crowded stands, besides, you can't leave without guanheng, your pretty much the only person responsible for keeping him alive at this point.

so you somehow suck it up and manage to stick around. your ears are practically on fire right now, and you desperately want to take off your shoes because of how they are poking you at the moment. you almost feel like your being pressed together by all the people in the stands, as if walls are slowly pushing in and crushing every single bone in your body.

"that team is doing horribly.." you mutter to yourself in an attempt to calm your crazy mind.

"i know, we suck".

at first you think you've made up the voice, because in the past hour and a half all you've heard is shouting, cheering, and loud music blasting on your ears, no one has made any attempt to talk to you since guanheng up and left you alone in the stands, so the response almost seems like muddled up words created by your brain as a response—

but it's not.

someone actually did respond to you, and in a split second there is a completely new person standing beside you, also observing the game but not looking as pleased to be there. when you do glance to your left, you come across possibly the most beautiful boy— no, person, you come across the most beautiful person you think you've ever seen in your twenty years of living, for once it feels like everything stops.

you are not the kind of person that just.. does that. now you've met tons of pretty people, you've met so many people that you could definitely say are so beautiful they could be displayed in a museum as an art exhibit, but never in your twenty years of living have you ever seen yourself go silent at the sight of a beautiful person— your brain feels like it's malfunctioning, you're not exactly sure what to say, you open your mouth but no words come out, and you almost consider punching yourself because you probably look like a complete idiot right now.

"oh? you don't go here?"

that's what you decided to say? of all things you could've said, of course he doesn't go to your school, he just implied that the other team belonged to his school, why would that be the best thing to say out of everything else?

the stranger looks up, then he laughs, and your not sure how you keep your composure. "oh no, i go to vixsith" he replies, using his thumb to point backward, though he's not pointing at anything in specific, just pointing to point. you're not sure why you pick up on that, or why you're even watching where his hands are going anyway.

"your insulting your own team?" you inquire, and he laughs even harder at your question, covering his mouth with his hand. "this is about school spirit, have faith in them" you joke, and all he does is continue laughing, crossing his arms as he tries his best to calm himself down.

"i'm being honest, the only person on that team who knows how to play is mark, he deserves better" he remarks, eyes focused on the player he just named. he then seems to have a random realization and turns to you once again. "i'm dejun by the way" he holds out his hand for you to take, and you just blink at it like an idiot, before coming back to your senses and quickly shaking his head.

"y/n".

at the sound of your name, he seems to have yet another realization. he points at you and narrows his eyes. "we have a mutual friend don't we?"

at the question, you narrow your eyes, cogs turn in your brain as you think about who he could possibly be referring to, then it comes to you—

"guanheng".

the two of you say his name in unison, and the two of you both try to stifle your laughs as the realization dawns on you. "he knows everyone i swear" you mutter, and dejun snorts, looking away from you to laugh. "even from other schools.."

"oh we go way back" dejun responds, moving his hair out of his face. "middle school actually" he adds, and your eyes widen, as if your shocked, of course guanheng has friends from way back when, why are you surprised?

you don't feel as surprised as you do lucky..

"was he still as inhumanely flexible as he is now?"

dejun laughs again, he does that a lot. "yes, yes he was".

"he talks about you a lot.. you know" dejun comments out of the blue, tucking his hair behind his ear. "he basically lives with us, and if he's not sleeping over we always assume he's with you".

"oh so that's why he always just.. appears and disappears.."

"yeah that's kind of his thing" dejun scrunches his face, looking bored by the lack of action happening on the field. "i can never find him unless he directly comes to me first" he doesn't look at you as he says those words, but you're very much staring at him the whole time.

you almost feel like a creep in a way, you want to punch yourself in the face again for continuing to stare at him. you blink a couple times before turning your face away, trying to correctly articulate your thoughts.

"both teams suck".

you only say those words because you want him to continue talking, you want to hear him talk, it's nothing that crazy, having a conversation with him is just so intriguing to you for some reason..

"well yeah— but you guys get more training so you have an advantage" he comments, narrowing his eyes at the field, arms crossed over his chest. "the guys on our team have no idea what their doing".

"do you like football?" you ask, not sure why your so interested in his answer, you just are, you have no explanation for your sudden intrigue of this charming oreo–haired boy that goes to your rival school.

your much too distracted by how gorgeous he is to worry about giving yourself an explanation.

dejun laughs again, shaking his head. "not really, my dad does, so i just know things because of all his screaming and shouting" he replies, arms still crossed over his chest. "i'm not really a sports person, i do musical theater for pete's sake".

"oh so you sing?" you don't mean to ask another question, you're worried that you might be bothering dejun with your constant inquiries, but he actually seems glad, excited that someone is asking him about his major.

"well yeah" he responds, his smile growing. "all things theater, i write the songs, i act the parts, i play instruments, sometimes i even take offstage roles instead of my usual onstage ones".

he fiddles with his fingers, picking his nails. you assume, from his mannerisms, that he doesn't know what to say because most people don't really ask him about his major, or what he does, it's like he's elated that you even asked him.

"what about you?" dejun instead asks, veering away from the topic of his major and instead making yours the main topic of discussion. "what do you do?"

"health science" you say the words as if it pains you to, like it's the single most uninteresting thing you've said this whole interaction. "i know, it's boring".

dejun laughs again; "no no! i didn't say that!" he waves his hands in a disagreeing manner as he chuckles at your words. "i just don't meet a lot of people interested in pursuing science.."

"it's more of the health aspect than science actually" you mutter, and dejun just looks even more interested in what you have to say now. "but science is a big part of it so.."

"you must be very smart then" dejun remarks, smiling as the two of you make eye contact.

"i'm alright" you just say, finally pulling down your formerly rolled up sweater sleeves now that the air outside has begun cooling down. you only lightly shiver, and you glance back at dejun one more time..

"where do you think guanheng is?" he asks, clearing his throat as he scours the still full and lively bleachers, searching for your friend. "off doing whatever he does.."

you're currently very distracted, and you don't even realize what's going on when you snap out of whatever daze you were having and everyone is suddenly standing up and cheering like there's no tomorrow.

dejun looks over at you, and he can clearly see how confused you are because he laughs for one last time. "you guys won!" he somehow manages his voice over the roar of the crowd. "congrats!"

he's yelling, but he's not exactly loud, he still manages to sound so gentle whilst yelling at you.

"thanks!" you blurt out as a reply, and you feel like a complete idiot for that, but dejun smiles, so you don't feel all that embarrassed.

the game is over, and people are going to start to leave soon. dejun looks back, spotting a group he recognizes, then he looks over at you, a smile on his face. "i've gotta go now" he says, almost disappointed in a sense. "it was nice meeting you y/n!"

you nod, not knowing what to say. "yeah! you too!"

you too? you too?? is that what you say y/n!?

dejun gives one more beautiful smile before heading off, and you blink, having absolutely no idea what just transpired in those few minutes.

holy shit i forgot to ask—

but you couldn't— because he was gone, gone in such a flash you couldn't even spot his oreo hair in the crowd.

YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER. YOU FEEL SO STUPID, your not even sure why you wanted to ask him that, but in the back of your mind that was the question you were preparing yourself to ask from the moment he told you his name, that he was friends with guanheng, the moment the two of you began laughing about your majors and stuff like that. the whole interaction with a pretty oreo–haired musical theater major at a football game is all that you were thinking about last night, as you tried to find pretty much anything else to think about as you struggled to sleep.

how did you forget to ask him for his number? you want to smash your face into your computer screen because of how stupid you are. you said "you too!" like a fucking idiot, but maybe you were just too distracted, he was smiling at you with that beautiful smile and staring at you with his absolutely gorgeous fucking eyes, how could you even think coherently whilst a beautiful man (from a whole other school but who cares?) was staring at you with his pretty brown eyes like you were the only person in the world?

okay your pushing it now..

but there is just something, something about him that drew you in, your not sure why you were so adamant on getting to know him, but he was just so— you can't explain it right now! you are currently very sleep deprived and also moody because of your disappearing roommate that always decides to appear at the worst times.

you don't remember the last time you ever got an actual eight hours of sleep, these days that seems like a dream more than a reality, but guangheng is just never tired. he's somehow always up, doing something, hanging out with people, he never sits down in once place and just stays still.

when he walks into the room, hands on his hips and gaze immediately focused on you, you barely bat an eye at him, just spare him a quick glance, noticing how pissed off he looks. you scour your mind for an explanation as to why he must be mad now, probably something someone said, or he got into yet another argument with one of his classmates, your not even sure anymore, you don't know where he is half the time.

"could you do me a favor?"

you almost laugh out loud, not at him, but at the idea that he wanted you to do him a favor. at this point, he probably owes you thousands of favors considering how many you do for him, but he seems upset, and you don't have any of that pettiness leftover to ignore him, so you move your eyes to look over at him.

"why should i?"

okay— you lied, your still just a little petty, but you totally have every right to be! guanheng deserves just some sass from you after disappearing each and every time he decides to take you out somewhere.

guanheng blinks, then he pulls out the signature guanheng frown, a sad stupid frown he always makes when he wants to persuade you into doing something. you're not sure how you've even ever fallen for that signature frown, maybe it's because he's just so great at looking sad, at looking upset, he somehow always manages to make you feel bad for him, and therefore, end up doing the favor for him.

"because i'm your best friend, your roommate, and you love me so much" guanheng smiles wide, like he just found out he won the lottery, and clasps his hands together as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"i don't know.." you mumble, looking back at your computer screen. it's a saturday, you have no classes saturday, you can just sit down, relax, be the absolute lazy motherfucker you were put on this earth to be. "i don't feel like going out today".

guanheng huffs, crossing his arms. "one last favor! just one! then i'll get off your back!"

"your horrible at following your promises, heng" you comment absentmindedly, your tone is much meaner than you intended, and guanheng's gasp is enough to tell you that he indeed takes offense to those words. "what? i'm not lying".

"y/n!" oh great, he's whining now. "i will get you anything i can, anything! just this one favor! please?"

your about to say no again— but then it's like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you get a spectacular idea. anything? he did say anything, and he can give you something you want.

the number of a pretty boy preferably!

you let out a sigh, and guanheng knows what that sigh means, it means you agree. "fine, i'll do you this favor, but this is the last one".

guanheng's smile brightens, and he cheers like a kid that just got the best christmas present one can receive. "thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you!" he kisses your cheek, and skips off to another room.

"get your jacket!" he shouts, already rooms away from you, so he has to shout.

"what?"

"get your jacket! were leaving!"

you furrow your eyebrows at his words, but you don't say anymore, because you did agree to do this favor for him after all.

so, without questioning it more, you get up and go grab your jacket.

"SO WHEN YOU SAID A FAVOR..?" you don't continue on with your sentence, pausing to let out a breath as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jackets. guanheng looks over at you, and he just chuckles at the unreadable expression on your face. when you agreed to do this favor for him, you didn't know it included leaving your dorm and having to be dragged out to yet another unfamiliar place. "did you forget to mention the fact that we'd have to leave the school?" you finally finish, eyes focused and narrowed on your friend, who again, smiles at you with that signature guanheng smile.

"it's a saturday, most of us don't have classes anyway, they won't question it".

"is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask to yourself more than to guanheng, but he hears you anyway, and that results in a snicker from him. despite that, he doesn't respond to your silent question, making you frown just the slightest.

"stop pouting".

"i'm not pouting" your quick to rebut, rolling your eyes at his words. you almost bump into him when he suddenly stops, and your about to yell at him again for being stupid when he places a finger on your mouth.

he knocks on the door in front of him, not paying attention to the burning glare your currently sending him.

"i'll bite off your finger" you threaten, moving forward and pretending your about to do that. guanheng squeaks and quickly moves his fingers away from your lips, a flash of true fear in his eyes. all you do is give him a menacing and totally not threatening smile.

"psycho.." he whispers, he looks like he's about to say more, but the door opens, so he closes his mouth and turns around.

"come on!"

he grabs your wrist and drags you into the dorm, and you felt your heart rate increase. maybe he knew these people, but you sure didn't! what if they thought you were weird? you want to pull him back and tell him that he shouldn't just drag you into some strangers dorm, but he is much too distracted to even notice your uneasiness.

"i've returned!" guanheng yells, letting go of your hand to place his hands on his hips, as if he was proud of himself.

"can you slam the door on him!?"

"ten! come to me!"

before you can ask him what the hell is going on, he sprints down the hallway, you assume to go after this ten person, you just blink, shoving your hands into your pockets as you begin to rock back and forth on your heels.

"hello stranger!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims, you look up and come face to face with a pink–haired boy with a bright smile.

"hello" you reply politely. "i like your hair" you immediately remark, pointing at his hair like an idiot because you don't want to touch it and make him uncomfortable.

his face lights up, as if you were a millionaire that just gifted him a life changing amount of money. it was as if no one ever told him that his hair was pretty before, or that they liked it. he jumps up and squeals, excited. "thank you! ten said it was stupid!"

you furrow your eyebrows, then chuckle. "what? no it's very pretty, pink suits you!"

"hah! i told you guanheng! pink does suit me!" he yells down the hall, and you can hear the small shout of rebuttal that guanheng responds with from all the way down the hall. "thanks! only a few people actually noticed that i dyed my hair".

you laugh again, okay he is very funny, you like him!

"oh! i'm yangyang! the nicest person who lives here!" he introduces himself in the same fashion a reality tv star would, and quickly grabs your hand to shake it. you don't complain, just laugh again as he vigorously shakes your hand.

"y/n, it's nice to meet you".

he gasps, recognizing your name. "oh you're the famous y/n! guanheng always talks about you, for a long time i was convinced he was in love with you!"

"why are you tarnishing my brand!?" guanheng shouts again, sounding even more pissed off than he did before. "huh!? liu yangyang!?"

yangyang shakes his head, ignoring guanheng's loud shouts and flapping his hand, mocking him. you laugh as you watch him mock the other, who has absolutely no idea what he's doing right now.

"you have a project to do!" another unfamiliar voice shouts.

yangyang gasps again, suddenly looking stressed. "fuck yeah— um!" he turns around and reaches over to grab his laptop, then he turns back to you and gives you a smile.

"yeah, my apologies" you just wave it off, urging him to keep going. "um i'm doing a project where i have to interview people on their majors.. trust me i don't know either, but! i've interviewed like the whole school already, and i need one more person.."

"and that person is me?" you ask, but you already know the answer to that question, yangyang nods, much more quickly than he seemed to intend to.

"yes!" he exclaims, but then he clears his throat. "but only if you want to, i don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do—"

"no no no it's fine!" you cut into his sentence, shaking your head. yangyang, again, looks elated that you agreed.

okay so this was the favor guanheng wanted you to for him! (not for him necessarily— but his friend). he could've just told you about this straight up instead of being vague about it, it wasn't even that burdening of a favor, not like the other ones you've done for him.

"guanheng! why don't you bring him around more often? he's better than you are!" yangyang yells again, probably for the nth time that hour.

guanheng doesn't answer, but you knows he's pouting, you can just sense it at this point, you call it your "roommate instincts".

"oh hi y/n".

now that's a voice you recognize, and you almost don't believe your eyes when the one person that kept you up all night walks into the room and smiles as he sees your figure. "dejun, hi" you smile back at him, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

dejun looks so so pretty, as he always does. he fiddles with the necklace hanging around his neck, his eyes lingering on you for an unspecified amount of time.

"ten hit me with his shoe" guanheng suddenly storms into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "asshole.." he mutters under his breath, huffing like some sort of baby.

dejun then laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and that causes you to laugh, turning your head to the side as to not make it obvious.

guanheng exchanges glances between the both of you, a prominent glare in his eyes, but then the look in his eyes changes, and he points at the two of you. "you two have met?" he asks.

dejun pauses, still humored by the previous words said by guanheng, and your brain almost malfunctions once again. "i— um" great, you just sound so natural and not awkward.

"we met at the game" dejun immediately says, saving you the awkwardness of having to collect your words in your brain. you thank whatever god or deity up there for dejun's quick response, and he just flashes you that familiar pretty smile. "yesterday, you know, while you were off doing who knows what.."

guanheng gasps, looking at dejun like he'd just cursed his entire bloodline. "you— your just such a bitch! you know!?"

"ow! don't punch me! i'm fragile!"

guanheng lands one more punch on his shoulder, and it gets one more squeak out of dejun, who jumps once again. "i don't care, your horrible".

yangyang blinks, probably already used to their little quarrels. he then turns to you, just shaking his head as they continue to whisper–argue. "so, what do you major in?"

it's almost like you totally forgot, his project, the thing that guanheng dragged you here to help him with. "health sciences, i take courses in everything related to healthcare and like— half actual science courses?"

"so your looking to work in healthcare?"

"yeah basically, i've already taken courses in emergency service's, becoming a paramedic is my top option!"

yangyang gasps at your words, he looks over at guanheng, then quickly back at you. "are you single?" he asks, again with the same quickness.

dejun snorts, hitting guanheng as begins laughing hard. guanheng scrunches his nose, staring at yangyang like he's crazy. "what kind of question is that!?"

"what? that is a totally valid question to ask!" he exclaims, crossing his arms. "it's for my project! clearly!" he lies.

"your— oh my god, unbelievable".

"so are you?" yangyang asks again, looking at you with suspenseful eyes. he is very much interested in your answer it seems.

your finally finished with your laughing fit, and nod, still very amused. "yes i am, i'm single".

"good, this is very important information".

yangyang gives you a giddy look, and dejun just continues to laugh.

you're not sure why your so focused on him though..

YOU AGAIN, HAVE NO LUCK SLEEPING that night, and after the first hour and a half of tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to chase slumber you knew you wouldn't be able to catch. you assumed that the longer you stared at your computer screen, the quicker you'd get tired and the quicker your eyes would become heavier, but no! it's now almost two in the morning and you still aren't sleepy in the tiniest bit, you didn't know insomnia got this bad, if you knew this prior to coming back to school this year, you would've bought more of those sleeping pills. you lean your chin onto your hand as your computer continues playing audio from a random episode of brooklyn nine–nine.

the millions of thoughts rampant in your mind were probably distracting you, rendering it impossible to sleep, and also rendering it impossible to focus, seeing as your just looking around your room, which is pretty much boring you considering all you've been doing for the past thirty minutes is looking around your own room.

you think your gonna bore yourself to death, you pretty much prepare to stay up for the next five hours until your alarm rings and startles you out of your daze (which has happened way too many times for your comfort), but then your phone rings.

it's almost two in the morning, who exactly is calling you at this time? who knows that you're awake at 1:56 in the morning and decided to call you? they probably knew you'd pick up..

and you know who it is— it's so obvious.

dejun.

you don't mean to pick up your ringing phone as fast as you do, you want to punch yourself in the face for how desperate you seem, and you almost don't answer the phone because you feel so embarrassed. "hello?"

"hi!" dejun sounds way too joyous for someone who is sleep deprived, and up at 1:57 am. "sorry? was that too loud?"

"no no your fine" you reply, even though the speaker is on, guanheng can quite literally sleep through anything, there was one time the fire alarm was going off for a good ten minutes and he didn't even budge. "guanheng is a pretty heavy sleeper".

"he's lucky, i can't sleep" the sound of shuffling on the other line resonates in your ears, and dejun huffs, sounding frustrated. "you were the only person i assumed would be awake".

you snicker. "why is that?" you inquire, he was right, of course, but you just wanted to hear his reasoning, and also wanted him to keep talking.

you really like dejun's voice for some reason, it just scratches the right part of your brain. in these past two days you realized that you like a lot of things about dejun, many more things than you thought you might.

"your major has the word 'science' in it so i just assumed the amount of sleep you get is slim to none".

now that gets another laugh out of you, you laugh much more than you intend to, but also— it's dejun, and you can't resist the loud laugh that escapes your lips.

oh your such a desperate little bitch—

"well you'd be correct" you respond, humming as you pick at your nails. "at this point sleeping is beginning to make me tired".

there's a long pause, and your worried you made everything more awkward, because you don't hear anything from the other line. for a moment, you're almost convinced dejun hung up on you, but before you can speak he beats you to it.

"i can keep you company until you get tired" he immediately suggests, and you almost choke on your spit when he says that. "i don't mind".

you go silent, feeling as if all logical thoughts in your mind have suddenly disappeared into the air. you might sound like a complete loser right now but that was just so sweet of him to suggest, you smile much too wide for your own comfort, but you don't even think about that, because your just so charmed by the words.

"you are.." you pause, clasping your hands together as you think about what words to say next. "yeah yeah, that's fine" you finally continue, your new words having no connection to the previous ones you previously said, you just hope dejun doesn't notice.

"good! it would've been awkward if you said no" dejun giggles, and you just can't get over how cute he sounds. "plus, i wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning, lord knows how much you do in a day.."

you feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in your stomach, because he is so considerate? he wants to help you, he's just being so nice to you at.. two! two in the morning! you bite down on your bottom lip, hoping it doesn't bleed from how hard your tooth drives into it.

"aww, you care about me that much?" you ask, just wanting to hear him talk again. you feel like a teenage girl giggling and kicking her feet over a high school crush, except you can't kick your feet and giggle because then dejun would know.

"okay, be quiet, don't make me hang up".

"okay okay don't do that!" you say, totally meaning to sound as desperate as possible this time. "if your not here i won't ever fall asleep".

you hear something similar to a squeal on the other line, as if dejun had heard your words and just freaked out.

the realization honestly boosted your ego.

"you— you suck!"

"you offered to help me jun, don't get like this now!"

you're not sure how long it goes on for, but you swear you two laugh all night while on the phone.

"SO WHOSE THE GUY?" the question is asked so abruptly that at first, you assume you heard your friend wrong. when you look up, he stares at you with that deadpanned gaze, and that's when you realize he's completely serious. you chuckle at the realization that your friend is sure that your in love with someone (well you are— your just surprised that he figured out so quickly). "what guy? there's a guy?" you tilt your head, acting as if you have no idea what he could possibly be talking about. you giggle as you watch him slowly get even more irritated by your answer.

"you always come in here looking a little less miserable each day" chenle observes, leaning forward as he narrows his eyes at you. "someone is making you excited to live life?"

"do i always come in here looking miserable?" you ask, completely diverting your attention from chenle's previously asked question, which makes him pout.

"yep!" renjun exclaims, sitting beside you, he crosses his legs in his chair and presses his lips into a thin line. "so! who is he?"

the two seem way too excited to know about your never talked about before crush on dejun. now— you didn't know it was so obvious that you were now smitten for this new guy, you're usually the friend that's known from straying the furthest away from love, you don't remember any people you've legitimately liked that weren't elementary school crushes..

so yeah, your friends totally had every right to be surprised, because your absolutely smitten for a man and they just want to know who this man that is making you so happy is!

you hate that you give in so easily. "he's one of guanheng's friends.." you mutter, picking at your nails, looking down to make sure you don't witness renjun and chenle's reactions with your own two eyes.

renjun gasps, sounding like those ladies at the hair salons that just heard the juiciest gossip. "ooh! who? does he go here? do we know him? is he pretty?"

chenle looks over at renjun like he's crazy, that familiar judging stare in his eyes as he watches renjun lean closer to you with a totally not creepy smile on his face. "don't you think your acting a little too interested in this?"

"i just want to know!" renjun shouts, playfully glaring at the younger. he then turns back to you, and you assume his cheeks must be hurting from how hard he seems to be smiling. "tell me please?"

"he's— he's just your run of the mill pretty guy who is nice, and smart, and absolutely adorable who tells horrible jokes that still end up being funny in some way and he has a pretty laugh and i just love his voice, and talking to him, and, i can't even explain it because it'll sound stupid!"

"you sound like a psycho" chenle immediately says, laughing at you like you just confessed to an atrocious crime against humanity. you sink into your chair, slumping towards the side.

"aww! the pessimistic y/n is in love!" renjun squeals, again, like those women at the hair salon who just heard the juiciest gossip. he grabs your arm and shakes you vigorously, causing you to get dizzy in the slightest bit. "i can't believe i've lived to see this day!" he shouts, continuing to shake you as you can't properly get out your cries for help.

"renjun you're gonna kill him" chenle pinches the older in the arm, making him yelp and jump, he giggles as he witnesses the glare the older male sends him, his crushing grip remains around your arm, but you don't even mention at this point, because at least he's not shaking you anymore.

"sorry" he remarks, definitely not sorry as he squeezes your arm once again, beginning to get overly excited. "it's just.. exciting you know?"

"it's exciting that i'm in love with someone?" you raise an eyebrow, and though you expect renjun to respond, chenle quickly does.

"yep! you'll finally be gone!"

his cheer results in a gasp of offense from you, and all chenle does is giggle in victory.

THE ONE THING YOU'VE LEARNED FROM THE now excessive amounts of times you've hung around guanheng's other friends is that they're loud, they are all really loud (even sicheng! who, for a good majority of the time, is always quietly staring at his friends with clear concern in his eyes), even if they don't mean to, they're somehow always either yelling, shouting, or making some sort of scene. they're all just naturally hilarious, like comedians that don't realize they're comedians because they're just being themselves. in the past few weeks, it's like you spend more time with these people that don't go to your school in comparison to people that actually go to your school and that you can see easily.

but if you're being honest, you don't really mind that your spending all your free time with them, because they are indeed very fun to be around (and you get to see dejun much more regularly, which is something you rather enjoy), and because life would be insanely boring if guanheng didn't decide to drag you out of the dorm every other day to go do stupid things with his friends that go to a whole other school.

"you are such a cheater! i won fair and square!"

"you did not! your the cheater! sicheng is my witness!"

sicheng, who was not listening to anything either ten or yangyang had to say, looked over at the younger with a look of concern washed over his features. he blinks as he's suddenly put on the spot, smiling nervously as the youngest stares intensely at him, waiting for his answer. "uh.. i— i don't know".

his delivery makes you burst out laughing, and you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make yourself look like an absolute fool. you don't even realize that you picked up on one of dejun's habits, you might be spending too much time around him..

actually, forget that! there is no such thing as spending too much time around dejun, and that might make you sound like a "simp" but you don't care.

you've fallen, and you've fallen hard.

"okay.." guanheng presses his lips into a thin line, ignoring the way ten and yangyang now begin discussing the logistics of cheating in card games, unfortunately dragging poor sicheng into their argument. he turns to dejun and scoots closer to him. "can you do me a favor?"

dejun groans, playfully rolling his eyes. you assume he's done as much favors for guanheng as you have, and you barely stifle the snicker that dares to escape your lips.

dejun hears the sound, and smacks your arm hard, making you jump. he only gives you a teasing smile before turning to guanheng, having to give him a response.

"at what lengths do i have to go for this favor?"

guanheng scoffs, crossing his arms. "it's nothing insane or anything, i just want you to get me something.."

"and you can't get it yourself because..?"

"i have no money on me" and there goes that signature guanheng frown, dejun opens his mouth to argue but then he shuts it so quickly it seems like he just got out in some sort of trance.

"fine fine" dejun rolls his eyes once again, surrendering much too quickly. "you owe me though—"

"take y/n with you".

there's a pause, both you and dejun go very silent for a moment. whilst dejun is just confused, you absolutely know what guanheng is doing, and you have to use every bit of patience in your body to restrain yourself instead of jumping over the table and tackling him right then and there.

dejun is clearly clueless, though, because he just raises an eyebrow. "why?" he inquires, somehow sounding so sweet even though his question is asked with so much confusion.

"y/n knows what i want".

what a smooth lie, dejun glances over at you, and you just shrug, having no idea what more to say. "he needs to take a walk anyway" guanheng lies again, wow, two in a row! he's on a roll.

"okay..?"

so that's how you find yourself on a walk with the person that you are very much in love with, a somehow comfortable silence spread between the two of you as dejun hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, hands in his pockets, eyes closed as he slowly sways back and forth.

he looks very peaceful, just doing what he does, being effortlessly pretty as he does so, and you observe his behavior, almost entranced by it in a sense.

you only stop when he speaks up—

"do you think they're still arguing?" he suddenly asks, and you snap out of whatever daze you were having, praying that he totally didn't notice you admiring him like a creep. "or are they just.. conversing calmly now?"

you don't want to seem like even much more of a weirdo, but you feel like he asked that question just as an excuse to talk to you, and maybe your thinking too much into it, but you've definitely done that before, so you know what it looks like.

"i hope they aren't still arguing" you answer, and dejun looks up at you, smiling. "that'd be a long ass time to argue".

"well they like arguing just to argue" dejun replies, fiddling with his necklace. "but they're harmless.. for the most part".

his delivery makes you laugh, and you look down at your shoes. "you're a very calm person, you know, the opposite of guanheng".

the sudden statement from dejun makes you look up at him once again, and this time, he's staring directly at you, as if he had been waiting to make eye contact with you the whole time. "calm?"

"well compared to my roommates you are" he giggles, and maybe he doesn't mean to, but he stares at so intensely that your legs feel shaky.

"who knows? maybe i'm a fraud" you tease, purposefully leaning closer to him so your words have an effect. dejun's eyes widen, and he lightly leans away from you, looking speechless. "you'd never know, though".

you don't know how you suddenly got so bold, or why you were so amused at the sight of dejun freaking out, you feel like some sort of genius for what you just did, and you snicker at yourself before leaning back.

dejun takes in a deep breath, looking like he's trying to fix himself. he clears his throat and stumbles through his next words. "i— uh.. you're such an idiot!" he decides to say, crossing his arms over his chest.

your not sure how the two of you became so casual in this amount of time, a few weeks ago, dejun wasn't such a regular figure in your life, and you were just any other college student doing their best to get by, not thinking about falling in love with a gorgeous oreo–haired man—

but you're also not complaining.

you aren't sure how you got so lucky, how it just happened that you could continue to spend time with the cute boy you met at a stupid football game simply because the two of you shared mutual friends, it's one of times guanheng's actually done you a favor, without even realizing it too!

"okay i'm sorry" you giggle, shoving your hands into your pockets, you once again begin taking from dejun's habits and sway back and forth. "seriously!"

"you're unbelievable" dejun exaggerates, rolling his eyes, but it wasn't serious, and you knew it wasn't serious. "but i meant what i said, your calm".

you raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to know more about the observations he has about you. "could you elaborate on that?" you don't mean to laugh, but you do, and it causes dejun to laugh too.

"you just.. seem content with what you have" he explains, but he doesn't explain it enough, so he continues. "like someone could get you a piece of paper as a birthday gift and you'd be pleased".

you laugh, hard, because he somehow managed to get you spot on. you almost feel like he is reading your mind, because he nailed you down with each word. "really? i guess i am like that".

"ah, so my prediction was right then!"

you laugh at how glad he is. "yeah, i am truly not that hard to please, gifts are gifts and if someone gets one for me, there's no use in being mad if the gift isn't something i like, at least they remembered to get me something!"

dejun stares at you for a specifically long time, looking you up and down. he stares at you with warm eyes, a gaze that seems so near and dear to his heart, a gaze so loving that it looked like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to you.

"i like any and all gifts" you continue.

"are there any specific kinds of gifts you like?"

dejun asks that question in a tone that makes it seem like he's totally not trying to sound suspicious, but he is totally asking you that question for a very specific reason.

guanheng must've told him something..

at least, that's what you assume, but dejun is patiently waiting for your answer, and you can't daydream the whole time about the true meaning of his words.

"i like books, plushies, music tapes, vinyl's, you know.. regular gifts that people like receiving".

dejun hums, as if he's noting down the information you're telling him in his mind, still, you don't say anything about his mannerisms, just keep it to yourself.

"are you noting down my reply?"

"i'm just keeping it in mind!" he says, smiling brightly at you. "just in case your special occasion comes up and i don't know what to get you".

oh! so guanheng definitely did tell him something..

"i mean— were friends! any gift from you will be a good gift".

at the word friends, dejun seems to pause, cogs in his brains turning as he tries to process your words. you don't understand why he would be trying to understand your words, because the two of you were clearly friends, did he think you two were something else?

you see the flash of disappointment on his face, but it quickly reverts back to a smile and he simply acts like nothing happened. "sorry, the word 'friends' just caught me off guard".

a lie..

how interesting.

"seriously though, i just want to get you a gift you'll appreciate forever".

but you're already enough for me— do you know how much you've changed my life?

your own thoughts manage to surprise you, because the words that you just told yourself in your own mind startle you enough that you make a judging face at yourself. luckily, dejun is turned away from you, so he doesn't notice.

"well that's thoughtful of you".

"i try my best.." he responds, finally looking back at you with that same loving stare, one that wants to lure you in and make you trip on your own feet.

for some reason, the two of you stop. there's an uncharacteristically long pause, like the world just decided to cease for a moment, and you both are completely stuck in place, just there, staring at each other.

dejun's eyes move, as if scanning your face like a camera, and they (of course) stop at your lips. he stares at them for what seems like forever, and it almost looks like he's restraining himself, but by the way he bites his bottom lip, it's clear—

he wants to kiss you.

and maybe there's a small voice at the back of his head that tells him to cut it out, because he almost immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was having, and clears his throat, his cheeks going a bright red.

"uh— sorry, yeah, um, we should get going" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his sleeves down.

"guanheng will yell at us if we're late".

okay, so he just decides to not talk about it? you want to ask him why he didn't just do it, because he clearly wanted to, but before you can even open your mouth, or get any words out, he grabs your hand and the two of you continue walking back to the group.

he doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to make anymore small talk, and while you do want to bring up what just happened there, you don't.

you just bask in the feeling of dejun's hands intertwined with your own.

it's a good feeling, you decide.

THAT MOMENT IS STUCK ON YOUR MIND for what seems like years. you can't get over it! how he was looking at you, how he clearly wanted to kiss you, but for some reason, decided to stop himself from doing so. you're not sure why you didn't just tell him that it was okay, that you would be completely fine with him kissing you, but you guess that you're just a complete idiot as well, because you just stayed silent throughout the whole thing, the two of you equally deciding in silence to not bring it up, just sitting next to each other in awkwardly for the rest of the night.

and yeah, it's become normal for dejun to constantly run through your mind these days, it's like he has his own subsection in your mind, dedicated to thoughts about him and him only, but it's like he's just become rampant in there ever since that.. thing he did (or should you say, didn't do, considering he decided to not kiss you when the opportunity was right there), maybe you should've pulled him in, maybe you should've (for once) been impulsive and done the first thing put to your mind.

and this crawls through your mind for days, then those days become a good week and a half. now— you and dejun aren't not talking or anything, it was just sort of difficult to look at him without thinking about that.

you're so into your thoughts these days, that you are much more spacey during your classes, at home, and somehow, guanheng picks up on your weird turn, which is crazy, because guanheng was the last person you expected to notice something like that, he usually never notices most things in front of him anyway.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" he decides to randomly drop it on you when he seems to have had enough, which is funny, because he's technically the person that started the whole thing.

you look up from your phone, blinking at him like he just said something out of this world. "hm?" he scoffs at your lack of a response, shoving your shoulder, which results in a glare from you.

"what happened?" he asks again, this time without the extra swear word, he makes himself comfortable on the other side of the couch. "you are acting weird" he points at you accusingly, like you'd just been accused of a crime and he was trying to figure out if you were truly suspicious.

"i don't know what your talking about.."

"stop stalling!" he complains, grabbing your arm and beginning to shake you back and forth. "tell me! you can't keep acting weird and just not tell me what's wrong".

now you want to tell him, but in your mind it sounds so stupid that you feel like guanheng would laugh at you the moment you uttered the first few words of your sentence. "you're going to laugh".

guanheng gasps, offended by your response, though it is true, he just wants to be dramatic. "i won't! i'm concerned! i'm being a good roommate and asking you what's wrong!"

so, you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "okay so hypothetically.." you begin, because you have no other idea how to start your sentence.

hypothetically just means = it was indeed not hypothetical!

"hypothetically, uh huh.." guanheng hums, understanding the true meaning your words have. "okay sorry, continue".

"let's just say that, hypothetically, i am totally in love with one of your best friends, and that friend totally wanted to kiss me but then chickened out last minute and like an idiot i didn't say anything and i have no idea how to go about it".

guanheng's eyes widen at your words, and his jaw almost drops. "hypothetically though" you add to the end of your sentence after a long pause.

"right right! hypothetically.." he nods, though he can't contain his look of excitement at the words. "and you didn't kiss him back!?"

you're almost knocked off the chair from how intense his yell is. you groan and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and ashamed. "i didn't know how to bring it up and not be awkward!"

"just say 'hey dejun you could totally kiss me and it'd be fine because we are both mortifyingly in love with each other'!" guanheng shouts, louder than his previous words. he's always so straight up, and you almost wish you didn't tell him anything. "it's that easy!"

"it is not!" you shout in rebuttal, crossing your arms and frowning. your acting like guanheng at this point, but that's not what you're noticing at this very moment. "it's easy for you! you date people and you kiss people all the time! i don't do that!"

"excuses excuses!"

you're at a loss for words at his lackluster words, you once again, frown and turn away from him. "i'm sorry! i have never been hardcore in love with someone like this before! i don't know how to talk about it!"

guanheng looks like he's about to yell again, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, leaning back in the couch. "okay, i'm sorry for yelling.."

"y/n, you really just need to tell him how you feel straight up, because if you keep stalling than none of you will end up confessing in the end and you'll both just be going through a loop of 'should we or should we not?'"

you blink, staring at guanheng for a good few minutes, honestly surprised. this is probably the best advice he's ever given you, usually, you’re the one that has to give him advice because he always ends up doing something stupid and has someone that wants to murder him because of that stupid thing he did.

"that was actually.. good advice" you reply, laughing at guanheng's eye roll. he just shoves you, making sure he does extra hard this time to get his point across.

"shut up! i always give good advice!"

"you usually don't give any advice at all.." you mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look away from your roommate, who just glares at you like you just committed a federal offense.

"say something again and i'm gatekeeping dejun from you!"

"your what!?"

at the sound of your shout, guanheng giggles as he scurries away, proud of himself for the words that escape his lips.

YOU'RE NOT SURE HOW YOU SOMEHOW LET guanheng drag you off to a party on a friday night where all you wanted to do is relax. parties have never truly been your thing, but that's because being surrounded by a bunch of drunk and high adults just isn't your idea of fun, you're also just not a big drinker, so the only reason you usually even end up at parties is to take guanheng home when he gets too drunk and can't fully articulate his thoughts. so, the fact that guanheng was somehow able to convince you to get out of the house and go to a party when you truly should've been at home, watching horrible sitcoms.

but no, you're here! and you can't leave without guanheng because if you did, he'd probably find a way to end up killing himself, or he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and would end up getting punched in the face.

so you find yourself in a familiar spot, your back against a wall as you stare at your phone, somehow able to ignore the hundreds of screaming drunk people that surround you, it's become a skill of yours, and you're not sure how exactly it developed, you've just become such a natural when it comes to ignoring others.

guanheng, of course, has already walked off to do his own thing, but not before reminding you of the advice he'd given you a few days prior, yelling at you to 'just tell the boy you like him!'

maybe his advice is burned into your brain, because now all you wish is that you were with dejun, talking about something stupid, or just talking.

and there must've been somebody listening in on your thoughts, because he suddenly walks around the corner, head whipping around like he's searching for someone.

your not trying to look at him, but he catches your gaze immediately, and he skips towards you like a kid in a candy store.

"hi" he greets, a little giggle to his words. his face is a shade of bright red as he giggles once again, though nothing's funny. "pretty".

he whispers the last word, with the intention of you not hearing it, but his mind must be too clouded for him to realize that he said it much louder than he thought he did, but you don't say anything, just hum.

"hello" you greet back, and he laughs once again, covering his hand with his mouth. "are you okay?"

a loud snicker leaves his lips, and he moves closer to you to link his arm with yours. he rests his head onto your arm, a content smile spreading across his face. "i'm drunk".

his honest answer makes you question his state for a moment, since when do drunk people admit that they're drunk? or maybe he's only just tipsy.. your not sure, but he's not acting like a totally sober person right now.

"are you sure?" you raise an eyebrow, dejun just responds with a small 'hmph', and he keeps your arm linked with his. "dejun".

"yes! i am!" he yells as rebuttal, shaking your arm a few times. "do you wanna smell my breath?"

"oh no no no" you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. he laughs at you, his cheeks as pink as yangyang's hair, he grabs your hands, and whilst yours are cold, his are burning hot. "okay you have energy".

"i'm sorry" he suddenly blurts, another snort escaping his lips as he leans his head against your chest. you give him a look, confused as to why he felt the need to apologize.

"for what?"

"for doing that thing" dejun responds, closing his eyes as he sways back and forth. "i probably made everything awkward, i didn't mean to".

that's what he thinks? he thinks that he made everything awkward? you feel your heart break at the realization, but all dejun does is laugh sadly.

"you didn't— you didn't make everything awkward, it's okay".

dejun laughs again, clearing his throat. "just tell the truth, y/n.."

you chuckle, not at dejun, just at his words. he wants you to tell the truth? fine.. you will!

"dejun" you begin, using your pointer finger to tilt his chin up so the two of you make eye contact, you watch as his eyes widen, but he doesn't move, just lets you do your thing. "you can kiss me, it's okay".

he blinks, as if trying to figure out if you were lying or not. he opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he closes it again. "it is?" he asks again, just wanting reassurance, you hear his voice crack, but he's getting impatient, he wants your answer.

"yeah it's fine".

that's all the conformation dejun seems to need, because he finally presses his lips to yours after what seems like years of waiting. your arms naturally rest on his waist, and there's just something, something about this that makes you smile.

there's an urgency in the way he kisses you, and his hand comes up to hold your face. he is just so desperate, and it would be a lie to say that you weren't just as desperate as he is. you'd been wanting this for so long, you don't even know how many times you thought about what it would be like to kiss dejun.

his fingers caress your cheek, and the contact feels like your skin was set ablaze. maybe this is what you needed, and you assume it's exactly what dejun needed to, because he pushes on your shoulder with a seemingly inhumane amount of force, which makes you gasp a little.

while your one arm is around his waist, the other one goes up to run your fingers through his hair, somehow causing the two of you to both smile, barely stifling your laughs.

after what seems like forever, dejun pulls away, and while you're standing there, breathless, he just smiles, relaxing as you play with his hair. "you like my hair?"

you aren't sure why out of all things, that's what he decides to ask, but you laugh, completely enamored by the boy in front of you. "yep, it's soft" you reply, biting your inner cheek. "the color suits you".

dejun tilts his head, looking up at you with his insanely pretty eyes. you just want to squish his cheeks, or wrap him in a blanket and hold him forever, you aren't sure why you just have this surge of loving emotions for absolutely no reason, maybe it's the way he's staring at you, or that he just left you breathless and did it so flawlessly.

he hums, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. he just suddenly gets shy, his ears turning red at your words.

"you're so stupid.."

that's probably his favorite phrase to say to you by now, but you don't mind, you just smile as he hides his face away from you.

"dejun" you call out despite him being right in front of you, and he looks up at you again, gaze warm as he gives you a small smile.

"yes?"

"i love you" you immediately spout, not even surprised by how high your voice has gotten. "like— in the i'm in love with you kinda way and not in a i just want you to kiss you but not call you my boyfriend kinda way".

dejun pauses, snickering at your words, he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

what other way could there possibly be?

but you don't get any response, at least, not from him, because all he does is lean forward and press his lips to yours.

YOU'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN A FAN OF YOUR BIRTHDAY, and you aren't sure why. it used to be a fun thing up until you turned twelve and it suddenly felt like a switch had flipped, as if your birthday was making you miserable. now it's not like you always feel depressed on your birthday, it's just that sometimes you don't want to have a huge birthday celebration. most of the time— you only request for huge birthday bashes on specific days, like when you turned ten (you were very excited about becoming a double–figured age), or when you turned eighteen (you became an adult, not that exciting but it was definitely something, you could finally legally drink), but it's truly only specific days that you don't mind having large, people–filled birthday parties.

and not only were you not exactly anticipating your birthday, you already had something even bigger on your mind the whole time.

like dejun ghosting you! that's definitely one!

okay so you tell the guy you love him, you make out with him at a party (in the opposite order but oh well), he doesn't give you a response and then he decides to just ignore you?

maybe he just didn't know what to say, and that also lead to him just not picking up his phone for a good two weeks as he completely ignored your calls and texts and voicemails!

and with this being the only thing on your mind, your birthday seemed to be the least important event at the moment.

you didn't really want to think about it, and the campus was starting to make you feel sick, so this year you planned on visiting your parents after the day was over, considering your special day fell on a friday—

but guanheng, guanheng had other plans.

he practically begged you to let him throw the party for you, he wanted to do it so bad that he vowed to never ask you for a favor ever again (which is a lie! he never keeps his promises!), he was acting so desperate, it was like you'd just saved his life or something.

you're not sure what made guanheng so eager to throw a party for you, especially because you just didn't know what you would do with a bunch of people in your dorm.

but he insisted, he would throw you the best party in the world.

and after what seemed like forever, you two finally agreed on something—

you go visit your parents friday evening, and guanheng throws your party on saturday, easy!

"what do you mean strawberry isn't a good flavor!?"

you scoff at his question, nodding your head, as if confirming your words. "i don't like strawberry flavored things, you get me a strawberry cake and i'm making you sleep outside".

your threat results in a gasp from your roommate, who looks genuinely hurt by your words as he places a hand on his chest, horrified. "you are such a horrible roommate! threatening me when i'm throwing a party for you".

"it'll be a horrible party if you get me a horribly flavored cake".

you totally mean what you say as well— you truly dislike strawberry cake.

and when guanheng said party, you didn't exactly anticipate how many people he would decide to let into your dorm.

now you know a good chunk of these people, but most of these people probably decided to come just because they knew guanheng, all they did was utter some happy birthday's and then they ran off to do their own thing.

guanheng got most things right, he just invited a bunch of people that really didn't care for your birthday, just wanted to be around him.

so it's no surprise that you felt just a little disappointed about the people at your party that just didn't give two shits about your actual birthday.

and guanheng was off doing something else, though you could actually see him this time, he was telling people where to put the gifts they brought for you.

your beginning to feel suffocated in your own dorm, which is ironic to you, because this is quite literally the place you go to get away from a bunch of people, it's the only place of yours that isn't full of people.

so, you clear your throat, and push through people to get to the door, not wanting to stay inside with all these people, you'll probably end up throwing up everywhere if you stay inside even longer.

when you exit the dorm, you take a deep breath the moment you close the door, letting your back fall against it. you immediately jump as you see a person behind the door—

okay so dejun (who you confessed your love to by the way!), is pacing back and forth in front of your door, totally stressing. you blink, a look of confusion spreading across your face. "um.."

"are you okay?"

you aren't even sure why you opened your mouth, but if you didn't, this would just go on for a good twenty more minutes.

dejun jumps, clearing his throat as he smiles awkwardly. "you— scared the shit out of me".

he's acting so casually? after not talking to you for a good two weeks!?

"sorry—"

"i'm sorry!"

dejun immediately yells, covering his face with his hands. "i'm so sorry for not texting you! or calling you! or giving you a response! it was so stupid of me to not consider your feelings and instead of just telling you straight up how i felt i decided to ignore you but i was scared that i wouldn't be able to tell you without making it awkward and it—"

"dejun" you place your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you. "your rambling".

he sighs, eyes darting away from your face, he frowns. "but it's not okay, i didn't talk to you, i probably came off as such an asshole! you were probably so confused, and i just.. said nothing!"

you observe his features, and he looks even more anxious at your silence. his face goes red, and his leg begins bouncing up and down, whilst his hands look for something to hold.

"okay, calm down.." you mutter, reaching for his left hand and lacing it together with yours. "it's okay, there's no need to be worried".

"i'm sorry" he says again, finally looking up at you. "i get it if you don't forgive me—"

"dejun" you cut into his sentence, squeezing his left hand. "i forgive you.. i love you".

you repeat your confession once more, and dejun blinks, processing your words.

"i love you too".

and finally, after what seems like forever, after what was so long, he gave you a response.

before you could say anything more, dejun pulls you in for a hug, his arms circling around your waist. you're a bit taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but you also don't mind, because he squeezes you tighter.

"happy birthday" he mumbles, a small smile coming to his face as he feels your hand comb through his hair. "i'm sorry".

"stop apologizing" you say, lifting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. "i forgive you, it's okay".

and it is, you're being completely honest, but dejun doesn't say more, immediately pulling you back into a warm hug

but suddenly, the door to your dorm swings open and guanheng peaks his head out, eyes widening as he witnesses the current thing. he has absolutely no context to anything which was happening at the moment, he just opened the door to witness a totally unaware dejun hugging you.

"uh.." he blinks, glancing between you two, but not asking anything, just clearing his throat. "it's time to cut the cake?" he laughs awkwardly, and you just smile, giving him a i'll be right there look.

"o...kay" he doesn't say anything more, just goes back inside and closes the door.

dejun giggles as guanheng closes the door, pulling away again to look up at you. "oh he is totally tired of us".

"we didn't do anything, though".

dejun snickers, lightly hitting your arm. "okay okay, you need to stop, it's your birthday, you have to go cut your cake".

"and.." he pauses, pulling a box out of nowhere and handing it over to you. "open your gifts".

you raise an eyebrow, confused. "where were you even hiding that?"

"that's irrelevant! it's your birthday, come on!"

and you let him drag you back into your dorm, smiling at him the whole time.

YOU ALMOST CONSIDER THE WAY YOU are acting to be absurd, and it's funny how much of another side dejun can just bring out of you. now you would never consider yourself to be a grumpy person, but people usually do describe you as having a 'natural frown'. you never really thought of yourself as being like that, but you guess that people don't see you look so happy much, because they continue to point out how it's like some glitch in the matrix to see you just a little less miserable as each day passes. chenle especially makes comments, talking about how you need to "put your smile away" because not seeing your resting face constantly freaks him out, renjun on the other hand, is elated, or maybe he's just glad he can finally be rid of you, you don't know.

but all that put aside, you are happy, and you have a cute oreo–haired man to thank for that.

and maybe this is all you really need, just dejun, the two of you don't even have to do anything, he can just lay his head down onto your shoulder and you'd be having a good time.

you like it when he sits down and paints your nails for you, or when he watches you bake over your shoulder, not knowing what to do but happy to watch you do your thing, or when he coerces you to win prizes from carnival games for him with his absolutely adorable eyes (he doesn't even need to try to coerce you, you'd do it either way).

"i'm pretty sure this is illegal".

"it's not!" you reply, though you mean to reassure dejun, your words seem to worry him more than anything. you take his hand, squeezing it. "dejun, i'm not getting you into any illegal activity".

"i can never tell with you" he retorts suspiciously, keeping your hand in his as you lead him up, he would have tripped if not for you holding your hand and guiding you up.

you clear your throat, patting the spot beside you as dejun immediately sits, so close to you that your legs are touching. "if i ever wanted to do something illegal, i'd know better than to bring you along".

he gasps, and you can't resist the urge to laugh at how offended he sounds. "what is that supposed to mean!?"

"you" your pointer finger touches his nose, and he doesn't even try to move. "are a snitch, you would be horrible to commit a crime with".

dejun slaps your hand away, and you laugh at the way he crosses his arms, a familiar pout gracing his absolutely beautiful features. "you— i.. take that back!"

"it's true! even yangyang would be a better option than you!"

dejun is even more offended by the words, and he slowly scoots away from you, arms still crossed as he pouts. you giggle as he remains scooted away from you, still angry about the words you said.

"uh— jun, i was just joking!"

"you suck".

dejun glares, but his glare is anything but serious, as you can see the way he slowly starts to break under your gaze, resisting the urge to burst into laughter. "i hate you".

"you love me".

he does, and he can't pretend he doesn't, because he almost immediately snickers, looking away from you as to not laugh more.

oh he is just so adorable.

you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, making him yelp. "you're so cute" you mutter into his shoulder, and at this point, dejun doesn't even try to pretend anymore.

"you're so corny" he says, patting your arms that currently circle around his waist. you lean your head down onto his shoulder, making yourself comfortable, and he just lets you, because at this point he can't really push you off him.

"don't fall asleep, i'm not going to carry you back to your place".

"you would be too weak to carry me anyway— ow!"

you yell loudly as dejun nudges you in the stomach with his elbow, and while he looks absolutely proud of himself, you just glare, absolutely done with him.

but you don't say anything, just lets your fingers run through his hair, probably your favorite thing to do with him. he just cups your face, and he just smiles at your face, giggling. "your just as cute as when we first met".

the statement makes you snicker, because you did not expect for him to say that out of all things he could've said. you get why he says it though, because you are at the place where it all began, the bleachers, the same bleachers where you two were standing when you shared your first interaction.

you tilt your head, wanting to tease him more. "so there were moments where i wasn't cute, then?"

dejun scoffs, turning away from you. he lightly pinches your arm, and you yelp once again, inching away from him. "why do you enjoy hurting me?"

he smiles innocently. "i don't, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

your face drops, and all dejun does is laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "don't be mad, babe, you know i love you".

and you do, you do know, he never fails to remind you of how much he does.

"i love you too.."

with your eye rolls, and tiny mutters, dejun knows, he knows that you're telling the truth.

#xiao dejun #xiaojun #nct #wayv #nct u #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #nct x reader #nct x male reader #wayv x reader #wayv x male reader #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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muscledemon666 · 9 months

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TODAY YOU BELONG

To SATAN

How long have you felt HIS call, HIS pulling of you to let go and finally accept your self and your needs? Are you not tired of the lies, guilt and shame that “ THEY” heap upon you? Does your cock lie to you about it’s needs? Does the stirring in your balls and blood rising in your shaft ever give you cause to think that they are aware of your true needs? NO! Your hungers and needs are natural, they are your rightful claim of manhood. Do not deny them for when you deny them you deny your true self. Satan wants you powerful and masculine and predatory. For a man must hunt to survive. Let’s us throw the false profits words back in their face when we say…”MAN DOES NOT LIVE BY BREAD ALONE! Join our worldwide family and feed your hungers. I am DAR. I’m here to help you, guide you and awaken you. Contact me on INSTAGRAM: darkdemondar666, TELEGRAM: @darkdemondar666, WICKR: demondar. Please when contacting me always state your FIRST name, AGE and LOCATION. I also urge you to read over my 100 postings on here and share them with everyone you know. The world has changed as HE RISES we must unite to bring HIS power to a hungry and needy world. Live by HIS GOSPEL: “ CUM IS THE FUEL OF THE COSMOS!”

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lis-likes-fics · 8 months

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Princess I

Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!cheerleader!Reader Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: Slow burn, misunderstandings, not much, mostly fluff... A/N: This has been sitting in my wips since January and I still have one or two more parts to write for it. But here it is! This is going to be a slow burn in two or three parts and I'm so excited to actually make it a slow burn (or as much as I can get, I am also super impatient, ppl). I hope you enjoy it! Thank you!

Hawkins' sun is hot today as you sit on the green grass beneath you, bending over one leg to stretch tired muscles. Each blade of grass that licks the bare skin of your thighs almost feels like a tiny needle pricking into your flesh, but you remain unfazed.

You're reaching your hands forwards on the grass, bending your body between your legs, when a body plops down next to you and wraps her slender arm over your shoulders, pulling you in roughly and closely.

"There goes your lover boy," she says, taunting you with an annoying smirk. You look up and immediately find a head of unruly curls bouncing in the sun as said ‘lover boy’ speaks animatedly with his friends.

"Stop it, Fiona," you scold, rolling your eyes. "He's not my lover boy. We're not even friends."

Fiona scoffs, shaking her head as she sneers apathetically. "I don't even know why you like him so much." She copies your position, legs spread out as she stretches along her left leg. "He's a freak."

"He is not a freak," you defend, sitting back up with crossed legs. "Just because he doesn't act like every other boring ass guy in this school does not mean he's a freak." You look down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs as you timidly shrug, "I like him. He's cool… He's different."

Chrissy's voice follows your own as she moves to sit a little closer, her kind smile set upon her lips. "I've talked to him a couple times," she supports. "He's really nice"

You beam. "See? Thank you, Chrissy."

Fiona rolls her eyes, another scoff pushing through her throat as she continues her stretch, eyes closed as she leans her side over her leg. "Whatever, girl." You sigh, shaking your head and turning your gaze back to the boy dressed in punk.

A whistle blows. You all look up at your coach adjusting her ball cap. "Alright, that's practice. Please work on those formations, please." The exasperation in her voice is feigned, the impact lessened by the little smile on her face.

You stand and move to grab your bag, along with all the other girls in short skirts of white, yellow, and green. You bend down and pick up your water bottle as Fiona and Chrissy take your sides to get to their one belongings.

A pair of brown eyes meet yours momentarily, looking away before you can even share a glimpse for a full second. Your heart flutters, and you hate how easy it is.

You nod definitely and take in a breath of courage as you decide, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

You receive two very different reactions. While one of them gives you a wide grin and a thumbs up, the other scowls and offers her disappointment and concern.

"Good luck!" Chrissy bids.

Fiona shakes her head. "Yeah, whatever."

It takes you a moment to move, but soon your feet are carrying you before you can back out. His slender form becomes bigger and bigger as you approach him, your stomach doing flips.

His friends see you over his shoulder as you get closer, smacking him and urging him to turn around at the sight of you.

He shifts on his feet, first glancing over his shoulder before turning quickly when he realises who you are. The look on his face isn't necessarily inviting. He looks wary, gripping his bag on his shoulder as he watches you.

You stand in front of him, keeping plenty of distance as you try not to stutter over your words. You offer him a smile, "Uh, hi."

Eddie Munson raises a brow, confused. "Hi?"

You shift on the balls of your feet, clasping your hands behind your back. "I'm Y/N."

He chuckles a little, glancing past you at the eyes glued to your back. "I know," he mumbles, his eyes finding you again. "Princess of Hawkins."

You try not to shrink under the way he says it. It isn't offensive; he doesn't spit the words like old gum that's lost its flavour, but it almost holds the same intensity as when half-hearted onlookers call him a freak just to fit in among the halls of the school.

You smooth your hands along your skirt, clearing your throat. "Uh, yeah… Um, I was wondering," you mumble the words out, hesitant and broken apart with anxiety, "if you wanted to, maybe," you struggle to get it out, hating how hard it is to speak to him when you usually remain so flawless, "go see a movie or…or get lunch?"

He begins to laugh, half-hearted and almost venomous. "Is this, like," he leans in a little, playing into the deceit he accuses you of, "some sort of joke?" He searches your eyes for an answer, one you're determined to decline.

"What?" you wonder aloud. "No. I… I-I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to hang out."

He begins to laugh again, but it falls short at the look on your face. Serious, timid. A mask?

"Really?" he asks, entirely unconvinced.

You nod slowly, lowering your head and looking up at him through your lashes as you kick at some grass. You swallow the lump in your throat formed because of his insistence of your insincerity. "Yeah."

You'd almost forgotten about his friends behind him, watching quietly with animated facial features that make you more nervous than you already are. They seem amused, underneath the judgement, of course.

"Why?" Eddie asks.

You shrug meekly, picking at your nails. "I just think you're cool."

He smiles, but not one of those wide Eddie smiles you're used to seeing in the halls when he's hanging around with his friends. This smile is almost spiteful, upset about whatever trick he thinks you're playing.

"'Kay," he laughs. "Now I know this is a joke."

You chance a little laugh, attempting to hide your nerves. "It's not a joke," you urge. You clasp your hands behind your back and tilt your head. The smile on your face is sweet, free of manipulation and full of a dwindling hope. "Please?"

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, sighing as he thought. He glances over his shoulder at his friends. They shrug or give thumbs up and he turns his conflicted gaze back to you.

"Uh," he breathes. "Sure, I guess." His hesitance does not help your nerves, but his acceptance offers a new hope.

"Oh," you say, your smile spreading a little. You half expected him to reject you, if his behaviour was anything to go by. "Cool, um…movies on Friday at seven? On me?"

He nods slowly, just a dip of his head with pursed lips. He runs his knuckles along his jaw, his thumb lingering on his bottom lip before he pinches and absent-mindedly plays with it. "Sure."

Your eyes linger on his thumb for too long before you offer a bright smile, reducing your excitement to flicking fingers, rather than clapping your hands and jumping up and down in your spot like a toddler. "Great!" you smile. "See you then."

"Yeah…" he trails off, watching you leave before turning back to his hooting friends.

You return to Chrissy and Fiona with a pep in your step, swaying side to side in a light strut. They take in the way you hold your head high with pride.

When you reach them, the smile on your face is full of confidence and a touch of cockiness. "Friday at seven," you declare, winking their way.

Fiona practically scowls, "He said yes?"

You smile only slightly. "Yep."

Chrissy's arms surprise you as she throws them around your neck and pulls you into her. "Congrats!" She exclaims, even more excited about the date than you.

Fiona laughs through her response, shaking her head in disappointed amusement. "You're insane."

You sigh, tired of her constant pessimism. "Be nice," you try. "He's cool."

She just shrugs her shoulders, insistent on emphasising how awful Eddie is, "It was nice knowing you."

You break away from Chrissy with a frown set deep in your face, turning full-bodied toward Fiona with furrowed brows. "Stop being mean to him," you tell her, your voice firm as you put your foot down. You stare at her, and she watches you defend Eddie with an intensity she deems excessive.

She just scoffs, backing down without offering her apologies for offending you as she grabs her stuff. She waves and leaves you be, walking away to separate from your anger.

Chrissy set a hand on your arm, tucking herself into your side for comfort as she smiles. "I think it's cool," she says. You look at her and your smile slowly returns as you hug her again.

"Thanks, Chris."

When Friday comes, you are ecstatic. You confirm the time with Eddie one more time and force time to pass quicker so you can see him later that evening. You and Chrissy get together and pick out the perfect outfit and the perfect makeup and the perfect everything.

As the time inches closer and closer to your date, you finally get into Chrissy's car, well on your way to the theatre to meet Eddie. When she drops you off, you are perfectly on time. Seven o'clock on the dot. With good wishes, she leaves to go meet up with Jason.

You wait for Eddie as the time ticks on, assuming he is simply fashionably late. More people come in, more people grab their tickets and concessions, more people go to their movies with their dates and families and friends.

But you wait.

And you wait.

You wait.

For three hours, you wait.

But he never comes.

The embarrassment was hot in your cheeks all weekend. Chrissy came over as soon as she heard on Saturday, there to comfort you, to assure you that maybe there was a good explanation. She stayed the night at your place and you watched movies and talked and pretended you were happy and fine with what happened.

On Sunday, the sadness and the pity kicked in. You stayed in bed and read romance novels and cuddled your favourite stuffed animal and ignored the homework you had left to do.

But on Monday, when it is time to get back to class…

You are livid.

The princess of Hawkins tears through Hawkins High on the way to the cafeteria during lunch, and no one dares to stop her. Walking into the cafeteria, you catch Eddie at his usual table like clockwork and set your sights on him. People notice you walk down, they see you go up to his table and stop in front of him way before he even notices the footsteps approaching him.

When he finally sees you, it's because you're standing in front of him with your arm crossed over your chest.

He looks at you, a hint of fear in his eyes expertly coated in confusion. His table watches intently, all conversation halted to see what would go down as you glare at the ringleader of Hawkins' freaks.

"You stood me up."

He furrows his brow, tilting his head. "Huh?"

You scoff, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head. "You stood me up!" you repeat yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. "I waited for you for, like, an hour, and you never came."

He looks around, taking in the amount of attention you both were drawing.

Eddie Munson is not one to hide from the prying eyes of gossips in this school—in this whole town—but being caught with conflict with the princess of it all would not end well for him.

He stands to his feet, running his hand over his jeans for a moment before gesturing to move to one of the white columns further away from everyone else. He practically hides behind it and almost begs you to do the same.

You huddle behind the column, standing close enough to fit, but not close enough to feel awkward. Your arms cross over your chest again and your anger continues to flare like bursts of fire.

He collects his thoughts for a moment, trying to figure out the right thing to say before settling on, "...You went?"

"What?" you mumble. You uncross your arms, raising a confused brow at him. "Of course, I went."

He repeats your words under his breath as though you're speaking a different language. "I didn't come because I thought you were going to stand me up."

Some of your fire dissipates, anger replaced by confusion as you tilt your head at him. "Why would I do that?" you asked, genuinely bewildered by the proposal.

"Why would you do that?" He's repeating your words again, mumbling them under your breath with such disbelief as he looks at you like you're insane.

Seriously, were you speaking a different language? Were your words not getting through?

He sighs, looking at you and beginning his explanation with plenty of animation to pair. "You're you. I'm me," he says. "You hang with cheerleaders and jocks and all the rich kids in school. I hang out with the outcast freaks who play 'the devil's game'."

He puts the air quotes up, but swings his head with the words to articulate his intent. You watch him and struggle to keep your fascination and slight adoration of his character away from your face because he is so pretty. He's confused and frustrated, but he's still being so funny and pretty–

No. You are mad at him. Be mad at him.

"You're not freaks," you tell him, letting out a breath. "I don't think you are."

He seems to hesitate for a moment, considering you before shaking his head. "Well," he clicks his tongue and gives you a grand smile meant to serve his exaggeration without fully convincing you that he doesn't hate you. You feel like he might hate you. You don't know why.

"That solves everything," he continues. "Still doesn't change the fact that girls like you-" he gestures to you "-don't talk to guys like me-" he jabs his fingers into his chest- "unless it's to pull some stupid prank to humiliate me."

Slowly, you begin to understand what he was saying. Connecting the dots, you're able to understand his apprehension, and thus his rejection, to go on the date with you.

You take a tiny step forward and put your hand on his forearm, right about one of his cool tattoos you've only seen once or twice. "I would never do that to you, Eddie."

His eyes widen slightly as he watches you, his lips parting gently in another moment of bewilderment. You just watch him, your eyes trailing over his face—his big eyes; big nose; big, plump, pink lips—as you take in the sight of him.

He licks those pretty lips of his, "You know my name?"

You tried, you really did. But as you look at him now, so confused and slightly amazed, you end up smiling a little—just a tiny grin that curls your lips.

"Of course, I know your name. I asked you out," you say. "Why would I not know your name?"

He scoffs, back to sarcasm and exaggeration. "Because everyone calls me ‘freak’, and, again, rich girls like you don't talk to guys like me."

You sigh, "And what kind of guy are you?"

You catch him off guard. He opens his mouth to speak before stopping and thinking for a moment. His mouth closes and he sighs, shrugging his shoulder before letting it fall limply at his side.

"The kind of guy who would rather keep the pretty princesses in DND campaigns."

Two things run through your head at that moment.

One: Eddie Munson sees you as a princess. But not like a princess in his fantasy game, likely fair and kind and gracious in her endeavours- he genuinely doesn't believe that you hold good intentions for him and his interests. Instead, he thinks you plan to use him in cruel tricks to humiliate him for being different, the very reason that you like him in the first place.

Two: Eddie Munson thinks you're pretty.

Your hand on his forearm shifts down to rest in his own hand. He looks down at them, processing the feeling of your fingers resting against his palm.

When he looks at you again, your eyes are soft and your lips are parted and you look fair and kind and gracious.

"I do like you, Eddie."

He stares at you for a moment, his dark brown eyes flicking through your own to search for the ingenuity he expects to find there.

But nothing.

He clears his throat and hums, taking his hand back and glancing down at the floor beneath his feet as he shoves his hands in his back pockets. "Hm."

You let out a gentle sigh. You shift your stance and straighten your spine to look at him again, licking your lips before you speak again.

"I decided that I would give you one of two things, depending on whether I deemed your explanation to be fair enough." You tilt your chin up, making yourself appear bigger than you are as you avoid smiling at him again.

"Oh, yeah?" he wonders, raising a brow and allowing himself to smirk. The way your heart skips in your chest threatens to turn your legs to jelly. He really is so pretty, isn't he? "And what did you decide?" He shifts closer to you, sidling up at your side as he teases you. Maybe he doesn't hate you as much as you thought? Or maybe he's just a good actor. You don't know, but you don't really care either. As long as he keeps smiling at you.

"I guess…" you sigh as a slight smile takes your lips. "That's a decent explanation." You reach in your bag and allow your grin to widen. "So, here."

You pull a journal out of your bag, black and bound in leather as you hand it over to him. Eddie looks at you, taking the book carefully in his hands and stroking his hand along the cover. He glances at you before flipping it open to the first page. The sheets are thick and white, ready to be filled with stories and campaign ideas.

"Uhh…" he says, staring at the book with the slight shake of his head. You examine every shift in his features, every little thought that flashes behind his eyes as you take in the bewilderment that continues to run rampant. "Thanks?"

You smile and shrug a little. "I thought you might like it," you say. "I guess it's just a peace offering now."

He looks up with furrowed brows, "Just out of curiosity… What was the other thing?"

"I was going to punch you in the face."

"Oh."

You nod slowly before waving it away dismissively. "Anyway, I hope you like the journal."

He nods, slow and characteristically confused. "Yeah…thank you."

"Bye, Eddie." You turn to leave him there, gripping your purse tight.

"Bye."

As you're leaving, you stop suddenly, turning on the balls of your feet with a slight bounce at your naturally excited movements. "Oh, also… This isn't some joke or prank."

He watches your every move as you stare at him, a kind smile on your lips, soft eyes staring back at him. "I do like you, Eddie."

He doesn't respond to you, just stares with wide doe eyes and a slightly open mouth. Curious. Confused.

You hide your hesitation as his lack of verbal response as you nod awkwardly, raising a hand as you turn on your heels. "Bye."

A book.

He stands you up and you give him a book as a peace offering? Eddie thought he was weird, but you just took the whole damn cake.

It doesn't make sense, he can't make sense of it. You're so kind- too kind. He left you waiting for him at the movie theatre for an hour, and your response is to give him a gift to show that you aren't lying about liking him.

And why do you like him?!

He's Eddie fucking Munson. The freak of Hawkins High, a drug dealer, a junkie, a super super senior, a demon spawn, the ringmaster of this town’s freaks, the vessel for Satan himself.

There is no way a popular rich girl like you would like a poor reject freak like him. Eddie can't wrap his head around it.

Watching you leave, your hands clasped behind your back, a little hop in your step, Eddie just stares. As he slowly comes to sit back down at his table, his group surrounds him, swarming like vultures.

"Bro, what was that?"

"Did you seriously have a date with her?"

"And you stood her up?"

"Why did you do that?"

"How did you do that?"

"You're insane, man!"

"If she asked me out, I'd drop all of you in a second to say yes."

Eddie just flips open his book again.

"What's that?"

"Uh… She gave me this as a peace offering," he explains slowly, staring down at the journal and setting his foot in his chair as he leans on his knee. "To prove she's not lying about…liking me?"

"Dude, the princess of Hawkins has a crush on you and you stood her up?" Dustin gawks, dropping his jaw in utter disbelief.

"How are we supposed to look up to you after this?" Mike shakes his head, his long arms falling onto the table.

"Would you just shut up? Jesus, can't even hear my own thoughts," Eddie mutters.

"Good," Gareth scoffs, "’cause, clearly, your thoughts are cheating you."

Eddie rolls his eyes, staring at the book again. The way you looked at him before, he couldn't help but to realise how much truth you were actually speaking. You were serious. Or a good actress.

You knew his name?

He shouldn't be as shocked as he is. He's infamous, but even Chrissy Cunningham—the queen of Hawkins—had needed reminding of who he was when they bumped into each other one day outside of the halls of the school. They'd hit it off instantly, but being who she was and being who he was, the connection didn't last as long as he wished it had.

But you and Chrissy are friends, aren't you? Best friends. Surely you couldn't be bad if you were friends with such an angel, right? Surely not.

Maybe you were genuine, maybe you weren't. Maybe you were a pretty girl with good grades and nice clothes and a nice smile, but you could end up being the devil in disguise and all that prettiness could blind him from the truth.

What if you were lying? What if you were playing tricks on him?

Eddie doesn't have the best reputation, but if it got out that you were screwing with him all along, and he actually let himself believe that you really and truly wanted him of all people…the embarrassment would overshadow his lack of care for what people thought of him. That'd be a whole new light all together. He couldn't handle that on top of everything else.

But you’re pretty, and you have kind eyes. Maybe he could take a chance on a pretty princess? Maybe he could trust you?

God, he was in trouble.

Eddie startles as he closes his locker and comes face to face with you once again. You stand too close, a wide smile on your lips and your books hugged to your chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you chuckle weakly, taking a step back. "Hi."

"Hey?" he mumbles, hooking his thumb on his bag strap.

You rock awkwardly on your heels. "How was class?"

The rush of students around you both after the bell had rung was quick, everyone insistent on getting out of the school as classes came to a conclusion.

"Fine, I guess," he mumbles.

"Good…" you nod. You lick your lips, your eyes trailing down the journal he is still holding. You gesture toward it, "Do you like the journal I gave you?"

He nods, "Yeah. It's really cool."

"Good!"

The both of you continue to stand awkwardly, struggling to find something to say.

"Um, I just wanted to say hi," you say. "Maybe ask if you wanted to… go see a movie with me or get some food?"

Your heart pumps in your chest at the question, a second attempt at securing a date with Eddie Munson—especially since you were the one asking again…as if it went well last time.

"Again?" he raises a brow, chuckling.

"To be fair," you tilt your head, smiling adorably, "you stood me up last time."

"Fair." He reaches his hand up to scratch the side of his neck, tilting his head as he asks, “But why would you want to go out with me again if I stood you up? I mean, what if I did it again?”

Your eyes stare back at him, wide and too pretty as the smile drops from your face. “Would you?” you wonder, lips parted slightly in wait for his response.

His hand drops down to his collarbone, resting there as he stares back, brow furrowed in too much concentration of that look on your face. You look like a deer in headlights, too captivated by bright lights to take notice of the danger you’re putting yourself in.

But Eddie isn’t dangerous. And, apparently, you knew that.

“Probably not,” he finally answers, letting his arm hang by his side carelessly. It swings a little, and his knee pops out when he leans on his side. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your smile is too big when it spreads over your lips again. “Then I’m okay with taking that chance. And if I’m made a fool of because I liked someone…I’m okay with that.”

Eddie thinks you’re really weird, but in a good way.

"So…" you rock on your heels again, holding your books behind your back, "Is that a yes?"

He shrugs. "It's not a no."

"Okay…" you mumble. You take in a breath of courage, standing a little straighter. "Friday?"

He adjusts his bag, looking up at the ceiling and blowing his cheeks out in a sigh. "How about Thursday?"

"Um… okay." Why Thursday? Why didn't he want to go on Friday? Does that mean something?

"And, just to be clear," he continues, his voice soft, void of annoyance but not providing you much solace, "this isn't a date. This is just two…friends hanging out."

Your heart sinks.

"Okay. Not a date." You nod definitely, licking your grinning lips.

"Okay."

"See you." You offer a small wave, taking a step back.

"See you."

He turns, waving over his shoulder at you and shuffling out of the door to meet his friends. You sigh gently, nodding and turning on your heel to go meet Chrissy, who is poorly hiding around the corner.

"Did he say yes?" she asks as soon as you stand in front of her, her hands holding onto your arms with a hopeful look on her face.

You lick your lips again as you smile and nod jovially, a bad habit. "He said yes," your smile falls a little, "but it's not a date."

"Why not?" she pouts, letting go of you to walk beside you.

You shrug meekly, "Guess I haven't won him over yet."

Chrissy sighs. She takes your hand and pulls you out of the door, certainty and determination clear in her voice. "I'm sure you will eventually. You're awesome," she asserts. Her support of you warms you, and you can't help but to smile. "He'll love you… eventually."

You laugh, nodding along with her as the sun blinds you. "Eventually."

"Hey."

Eddie could laugh.

He waddles around to face you in the middle of the hall, earning looks from people passing by him during the passing period. Some people go to shove him out of the way, to continue the flow of foot traffic so he isn't holding up so many people.

But they quickly rethink their decisions at the sight of you approaching him. They part like the fucking Red Sea, giving you plenty of space to talk, as dozens of students circle like fish.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, looking at you with his pretty brown eyes. He's got a long eyelash on the apple of his cheek. You want to wipe it away and tell him to make a wish, but you don't.

You've got a box in your hands, done up all in pretty paper and a ribbon bow on top. It looks heavy with the way you hold it up against your hips, arms flexing every now and then with each little effort to keep it in your arms

"I just wanted to give you something," you tell him, taking a step closer and thus tightening the circle around you.

Eddie thinks briefly you're some sort of mutant from his comics, with a forcefield power that makes you untouchable or mind control that makes everyone love you. But then he remembers you're supposedly nice enough not to need mind control.

You could get or do what you want and not have to deal with the consequences because people just love you that much.

He looks down at the box with a hint of something you can't decipher.

"Again?" he comments, his gaze wary now.

How much money do you have that you can just buy whatever you want for a random stranger you don't even know? And how easy do you think he is that you can just buy him stuff and he'll want to go out with you? Eddie hates the idea of it.

You hand him the box, brushing past the slight annoyance in his voice.

He takes it hesitantly, surprised at the weight, like it's full of bricks. He knocks his knuckles against the side and is met with a solid wall. What did you give him?

He looks at you expectantly and you shrug. "I noticed your copy was getting really worn out."

He furrows his dark brow and takes the bow stuck on the top off, slapping it against the side of the box and out of the way. He's surprised by your dedication to wrap the flaps of the box instead of the box as a whole, making it easier to just open it up and reveal the various spines of hardcover books revealing the golden font he knew well.

He's at a loss for words, staring at the books you'd gifted him. His assumption of shallow intentions is challenged in this moment as he stares and stares and then stares at you.

"You got me the Lord of the Rings trilogy?" he gapes.

His reaction fills you with a little bit of hope. He seems to like it. "Yeah," you smile gently.

He looks back and forth between them and you. "And the Hobbit?"

You nod again, "Mhm."

He picks up one book, creating an empty slot in the box as he examines it. His hand feels the spine, made of a material he can only guess is very expensive. "Hardcover?"

"I thought you'd appreciate it," you reply, fidgeting with the bottom of your skirt.

He begins to smile a little, a ghost of a thing created in the heat of the moment that you actually paid enough attention to know that he's not dumb enough not to know how to read, and to know that he adores these books so much that you got him hardcover copies to cherish.

But then he pauses and the smile is gone before it could grow. It puts the book back in its rightful slot and looks at you with a narrowed suspicion.

"What's the catch?"

You tilt your head. "No catch," you shrug, taking a tiny step forward. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Eddie doesn't believe you. Why would you want to do something nice for him when he can count on one hand the amount of conversations you've had? It doesn't make sense. Who does that?

But he doesn't challenge you. Especially not in this hall of swarming students where so many people are passing, watching. He may be infamous for his nonchalance for onlookers, but even he has a limit to what he will and won't do in front of people to save himself a little more trouble and humiliation.

"Alright…" he mumbles.

You give him a smile and step away, turning on your heel after waving your goodbye. Your departure begins to close the circle, throwing him back into the crowd of shoving bodies and whispers.

Eddie looks back at the box of books in his hands, ignoring the way more people try to push him out of the way of the traffic flow, and something he doesn't like swells in his chest and festers there.

He curses under his breath before he calls after you, "Hey."

You turn, looking over your shoulder and shifting your body to face him.

Eddie shifts the box to his side, jutting his hip out to support it as he uses his now free hand to brush some hair from his face. He sighs and hates the way his throat suddenly feels blocked.

"I could pick you up at eight for the movie," he offers, confused by the way he wants you to say yes. You got him the whole of the Lord of the Rings books, he might as well offer a ride to your not-date. "If you want…" He adds it on at the end, an afterthought. He assumes you're going to say yes, but still feels the anxiety of a possible no.

You cup your elbow in your hand. "Yeah?"

You flutter your eyelashes. Eddie wonders if you're manipulating him or if you are just genuinely this sweet.

He realises he may be exaggerating his reasons for not trusting you.

"Yeah," he shrugs a shoulder. "As payment."

A pretty smile tickles your lips as you nod. "Okay," you agree. "21st on Griffith."

Eddie chuckles, nodding and rolling his eyes in a way that's too playful for your dynamic. "Yeah, I know."

You furrow your brow. "You do?"

"Yeah. Everyone knows," he says. "You host parties sometimes."

You suddenly feel stupid for not realising that. "Oh."

Whether he means to or not, he eases your worries about looking dumb as he smiles. He kicks out his foot to turn on his heel, "See you then, princess."

The way he says it is not like he'd been saying it before. It had been as though he was teasing you, like he wanted to make you flinch with the name that had become the town's honorary title for you.

But now… now it felt like a nickname. Like one of those little things that add onto the end of sentences, embedded with fondness and familiarity. Strange for your dynamic, but so warm in the pit of your stomach where your liking for Eddie rests.

"Okay," you smile.

He salutes you and leaves as the warning bell rings. You watch as he heads in the direction of the double doors that lead outside, probably to put the box in his van. He'll be late for class. But you assume he doesn't care.

You care a little more, but not enough to pick up the pace to get to class as you turn and spot Chrissy waiting in the hall. You join her, letting her grab your hands hopefully as she brings them up between you. You give her a large smile, one that lights up your face and hers.

“It worked!” you exclaim, shaking your hands lightly.

“You bribed him?” she accuses, smiling but furrowing her brow with a huff of a laugh.

You roll your eyes, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s not a bribe. I gave him a gift.”

“So you bribed him?” she questions, still unconvinced.

“No!” A bubble of laughter works its way out of you. “I did something nice for him because he deserves nice things. I just secretly hoped he would repay the favour.”

The tardy bell rings, but neither of you pay it any mind.

“That’s a bribe, sweetie,” she says.

You roll your eyes again, “Anyway, it worked!”

“And?” she prompts you into giving details, interested in the outcome of your not-bribe for your not-date.

“And now he’s picking me up tomorrow night.” You bring her hands up to cover your smiling mouth with them, unabashed by your outward display of excitement as you hop a little in your spot.

She shares your excitement for a moment before remembering something. “But it’s still not a date.” She states it as a fact, shaking her head gently and hoping for a different answer.

Some of your elation seeps out of you, turning your boiling joy to a simmering delight. “...No.”

Chrissy sighs, and then she smiles, separating one hand from yours in favour of setting it on your cheek. You lean into her cold hand–warm heart combo staring into her eyes that would make outsiders wonder if friendship was your actual connection.

“It’s progress,” she reassures, swiping her thumb over your cheek to make you smile. It works, turning the heat of your affection back up.

“But he called me princess!” You smile. “I know it was probably sarcastic—and, well, everyone calls me princess—but it felt different this time. You know? Genuine.”

Chrissy just laughs, squeezes your shoulder lightly, and nods gently. “I’ll help you get ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Chris,” you beam.

She pulls her hands from you and claps them lightly, barely making more than a little snap of sound as she makes a bashful face. “Now, we’re late for class. By, like, a lot.”

You just scoff, rolling your eyes playfully before pulling a pink slip from your bag. “No, we’re not.”

It’s a pass signed with Principal Higgins’ name one of your friends forged, one you can flash the teachers and immediately get excused with. Chrissy has one, too. The two of you haven’t been “late” for class in months.

Chrissy pulls her own out and shares your giggle before shoving your arm lightly to push you in the direction of your class. “Well, go! Before we get caught.”

Walking backwards, you just laugh it off. “Please. We’re the royalty of Hawkins High. We don’t get in trouble.”

She rolls her eyes, turning around to get to her own class. “We will if you keep screaming that.”

The anxiety of your not-date with Eddie Munson is making it hard to think, which isn't at all ideal when you need your brain to function, or—more importantly—come up with a good outfit for tonight.

"I've tried on fifty different outfits! We're not finding anything," you whine, throwing a failure of a shirt onto the bed next to Chrissy, who rolls her eyes and stands.

"Please," she scoffs playfully, walking toward your closet and sorting through it. You take her spot, crossing your arms and pouting sourly at the lack of style in your closet.

Chrissy comes back in a few moments, clothes and smile in hand. "Wear this."

You look down at the clothes as you take them in your hands. She's given you a thick, white turtleneck, a red plaid skirt, and knee high socks. You whine again, "It's too simple!"

She tilts her head and shoots you a look. "Good. Put it on."

You sulk the whole time, changing out of the outfit you'd just tried on for the one she'd given you with a deep frown and sluggish movements.

When you turn around to face her, slouching in the new ensemble, she smiles wide. "See? You look great!"

You scratch your neck as she passes you to pick from the jewellery on your vanity. "I don't know," you shrug pitifully.

She comes back with a long necklace and little stud earrings. "If you put on the most expensive things you've got just to look good for him," she says, putting the jewellery in for you, "he'll think you're just trying too hard, or flaunting your money, or all the stupid ideas a boy can think of to convince himself it's not worth it." She takes your face in her hands, squishing your cheeks a little as she gives you her sweetest smile. "And you are worth it."

You cheer up just a bit, raising a brow, "So you think he's stupid?"

She giggles gently, shaking her head at your joke as she stuffs your shirt into your skirt, fluffing it a bit. You laugh with her.

She steps back to observe you, smiling proudly. "You look amazing. And he'll think so, too."

You shrug, "Unless he's stupid."

"Exactly!" she beams. Then she furrows her brows, "I think." She waves it off and steps forward again, taking your hands in hers to calm you some more. It works. She always knows how to calm you. "Just don't be nervous."

Your brows curl together.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, turning away and pacing a small line back and forth in front of your bed. "I don't want to screw this up. He already didn't like me before the books."

Chrissy sits on the bed and watches you pace. "I'm sure it'll be fine, and I'm sure he did like you before the books."

You scoff, mumbling under your breath and glancing away, "Clearly, you weren't there."

She shrugs, speaking slowly at first, "Not directly, but he has no reason to hate you, so I think you're okay."

You whine, "Just okay?"

Just then, the faint sound of music you don't listen to blares off in the distance. Both your gazes fall to the window as it becomes louder and louder and doesn't seem to stop coming, like a harbinger of chaos coming to take you to war.

"I think that's him," you say.

Chrissy chuckles, "A van that loud? I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

You turn back to her, frantic. "What if I screw this up? This is probably my only chance."

The music gets quiet.

She walks up to you again, taking your face in her hands and smiling at you, "Babe, you'll be fine. Don't stress, he'll love you."

You are so fortunate to have a friend like Chrissy, a real friend who isn't here for the food or presents or cool party invites. She's just here because she loves you and you love her for it.

"Eventually," you nod, though you let out a gentle sigh full of anxiety.

She shrugs a shoulder, ever the optimist. "Well, eventually means it'll happen."

"Eventually," you repeat, nearly defeated at the prospect of eventually and not soon. If it even happens at all!

"Yes, eventually," she says.

There's a knock on the door all the way downstairs. He's here, he's here, he's here.

Chrissy's grabbing you by your shoulders and snatching all your things as she manhandles you away from your room. before you can begin to process the rising in your belly. For such a small girl, she's got a lot of strength as she wrestles you down the stairs and to the front door.

She turns you toward her, a big smile on her face. "Have fun. Knock him dead."

She shoves your purse in your hands and shoos you away. "I'll try," you mumble truthfully. "Though part of me feels like you're trying to get rid of me."

"Because I am," she offers her shameless response. "You have a hot date with Eddie Munson, I have a hot date with your really cosy bed."

You roll your eyes as she's opening the door. You turn around at the same time Eddie does, coming face to face with one another as your eyes go wide with nerves.

You take him in for a moment, observing his outfit with the appreciation child being given a candy bar. He looks great. He's got a baggy, black muscle tee with a big, white skull on the front. His jeans are just as dark, though the tears in them are messier and you've got a sneaking suspicion he'd done it himself. You don't know why, but he has biker gloves on. You're not complaining though, because he looks nice and he pulls them off very well. His shoes, which are thick combat boots, give him an unnecessary extra inch that makes you have to crane your neck just a bit more.

He seems to be observing you the way you do him because when you meet his big, brown eyes again, his are finding their way back to yours as well.

"Hi," you breathe, offering a smile made of twitchy nerves and too much admiration.

"Hey, princess," he greets, and you're content because it doesn't hold the same disapproval it used to, instead warming you with the same light-heartedness he'd offered you before. "Hey, Chrissy." He waves at the girl behind you, and she's happy to wave back.

"You look…" he takes a moment, raking his eyes over you again. You panic internally. "You look really nice," he says, trying to be kind for purposes of being appropriate rather than just to be kind. That helps you calm down. He thinks you look nice, but you think he wanted to say something a little less composed. Then you bubble up a bit because he thinks you look nice, but you think he wanted to say something a little less composed.

"Thanks," you smile. You turn toward your best friend and your smile becomes a little more excited, and she's happy to see you so excited. You hug her. "Bye, Chrissy."

She reciprocates your hug and farewell, waving at the both of you as you step out of the door with Eddie and make your way to his vehicle.

He opens your door like a gentleman and asks if you want him to turn off the music or change the station. You say no, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Then he's driving away, having turned the music back up just a slight. He doesn't speak much at all on the ride, and you're so nervous you have no idea how to form enough words to start a conversation. So you both sit silently in the car, not looking at each other and listening to music you're willing to get into for the sake of appreciating something he likes. And you do appreciate it because the songs are nice—although you're sure the word he would use wouldn't be "nice".

It's awkward and nerve-wracking and you somehow manage to convince yourself that he doesn't like you again. So you both stay quiet until you get to the theatre, at which point he turns off the music and then the van and rounds it to open your door like a gentleman.

You step out on a shaky foot, smiling bashfully at him. He looks at you and you look at him, and then he clears his throat and turns away and starts walking with you. At this point, you feel like crawling into a hole.

When you get to the booth, you're the one who pulls out a wallet with a kind smile to the person there—someone you know from the school—and hands them the fare for two tickets.

They eye your date for a moment, looking back at you with a little bit of confusion before brushing it off. Whatever.

"What–uh," you clear your throat, turning to look at Eddie but finding it hard to hold his gaze. "What do you want? Popcorn? I'll get whatever."

He waves a hand, pulling them from his back pockets where they'd been nervously stuffed and goes to run them through his curly hair—which is frizzier than usual, like he'd taken a comb to it in hopes of taming it some more—only to be stopped by the tangles he finds there. "Uh, no," he says. "I can get it. Whatever you want."

"It's okay–"

He shakes his head and smiles, actually smiles at your bashfulness with that type of grin that makes you dizzy with affection. "Princess, it's fine. Lemme get it. 'M not a total bottom feeder, you know."

You raise your hands to add a rebuttal. "I never thought–"

"Don't worry about it." He takes one of your hands in both of his, watching yours disappear between them as you both pause to look at them. He pulls away and scratches his neck. "Sorry. Just lemme know what you want. I'll go get it at the counter."

You swallow thickly. It's awkward again—it was cute for a moment, but now it's just awkward again.

You mumble out your choices and he goes to get them. When he comes back, a bucket of popcorn between his arms, two big drinks in his hands, and a bag of Skittles candy held by the smallest corner with his pinky, you hurry to help him out as you take the candy before it slips, and one of the cups sweaty with condensation.

"Good?" he asks, shifting the popcorn over so he can hold it more securely. You nod, humming gently as you both start to make your way to check your tickets and find your seats. You do the aisle scoot in the dark theatre as you take your seats, mumbling "sorry's" and "s'cuse me's" as you go.

You sit next to Eddie, fitting your cup in the slot of your arm rest. Eddie begins to sit the popcorn in his lap, rethinking it between his hands and glancing around himself awkwardly. He squeezes it between his lap and the seat—another barrier separating you—and offers a tight smile.

You don’t think he means to put more between you and him, but it does put a damper on your already dwindling mood. You return the tight smile.

You both sit there in silence as the movie starts, playing with your hands and passing awkward sighs through your lips. Even as the movie starts, neither of you can really figure out when to speak—if you should speak, whispering to one another in little comments of laughter and delight at the comedy you’d chosen to watch.

But no. Neither of you say a word through the whole thing. You hardly look at each other. It’s stiff and cold and you honestly believe this was just a huge mistake. You like Eddie and you want to hang out with him but…you don’t think he really shares that sentiment. You want to go home to Chrissy and cry and tell her everything that didn’t happen, but you also don’t want to feel that desperate.

God, it was a long movie, too.

As soon as the credits were rolling, you both stood up as fast as you could to leave the darkened theatre. You walk out, throwing away your trash and holding your purse close. You step out of the theatre in the direction of Eddie’s van. He opens the door, you get in, he closes the door, he rounds his vehicle, he opens his door, he gets in, he closes his door, he sits there.

You wait for him to start the engine, but he seems to be lost in his thoughts. “Uhm,” he mumbles. You don’t look at him, but if you had the ears of a cat, they would perk toward him at the sound of his voice. But you don’t, and they don’t. “Good movie.”

Effort. He’s putting in effort, so he must care a little. Unless he’s just trying to be nice.

You really hope he isn’t just trying to be nice.

“Yeah, good.” Your words fall short during your overthinking and you just look away. He clears his throat and finally starts the van, pulling out of his parking space and onto the road.

You twiddle your thumbs as you think of something to say or do. Your skin crawls with the embarrassment of the whole night. This was clearly a mistake.

You shake your head and sigh and decide that this is too ridiculous to keep going. “Is this weird?” you ask, turning toward Eddie and acting like you’re actually brave. He glances at you. “You and me hanging out?” you finish.

“What?” he furrows his brows slightly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Be honest,” you state it firmly before you continue. No bullshit. You don’t like the question, you don’t like the fact that you have to ask, but you want to get it out of the way. Depending on the answer, you’ll either stop or keep trying to give this failing attempt a shot. “Do you not like me?”

He hesitates and it tears you apart inside. He shrugs. “I don’t not like you.”

You look away, your voice sounding more defeated than you wanted to let on. “But you don’t like me.” You sigh, spiralling in your overthinking mess of a mind. “Did I force you into the movie? I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course not. It’s just…” He tries to come up with the right word but falls short. He speaks slowly, guarding his words in an attempt not to hurt your feelings, you assume. “Weird. You and me. Hanging out. I mean… we have nothing in common.”

You reach. “Sure we do.”

He raises a brow, scoffing lightly and glancing between you and the dark road in front of him. “Name one.”

“You…” You stop short, realising with wide eyes that you don’t really know anything about him and he doesn’t really know anything about you and you are literally at opposite ends of the other’s experiences. “I…” You keep reaching, and you keep falling short. “We both…” Give it up. You’re not going to find anything. “...Are seniors at Hawkins?”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head gently. “Like I said.”

You sigh, defeated once again. You keep having to resist the overwhelming urge to curl into yourself. “I just…”

You don’t continue your pathetic attempt. It’s less humiliating that way, you think.

Eddie is the one to speak next. “Why do you even like me?”

You don’t like the question. You don’t know why, maybe it just reveals too much. You don’t know.

“Because,” you think for a moment, “you’re cool, and…and you’re cute, and…”

Eddie licks his canine, breathing a short laugh through his nose and shaking his head. Ridiculous. “I’m ‘cool’ and I’m ‘cute’.” You look down at your lap. Mistake. It’s silent again, until he speaks and keeps digging your hole for you—one you would gladly lay in if it meant escaping this conversation.

“When did you even realise I existed?”

You furrow your brow and look at him. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, princess,” the mocking is back. You want to die. “Who am I supposed to be to you? Some guy named Eddie in your science class?”

“I…” you don’t know how to answer that.

He hums, looking through the windshield as he comes to a stop at a light. The red washes gently across his face and illuminates him. Everything tints with its own version of red, a unique variation of the colour that flatters his hard features. You stare at the side of his face for a moment too long and then turn away, sitting through the light in a silence too thick to cut.

When the hum of the engine starts again as the light turns him green, you finally open your mouth, your voice soft and chastised.

“I’ve always liked you.” Eddie doesn’t speak, so you don’t know if he believes you or not as you keep your eyes directed toward your lap. You don’t think it matters much anymore—this was a mistake—so you keep talking. “Since I started high school and met you and you were a really cool junior who kept getting into trouble for ‘bad boy’ stuff,” you chuckle a little as you remember the time he jumped off the bleachers during a pep rally after flipping the bird to the team. He broke his wrist and got suspended for three days, but he looked really cool and he was really proud of himself for some reason. “And I felt weird for liking you, but then we ended up in senior year together when you kept…failing…and I thought that maybe I’d have a chance. So I asked you out and…” Your smile fades, “And then you stood me up.”

Eddie still doesn’t speak.

You feel pathetic for holding back the lump in your throat but it doesn’t matter much anymore because this was a mistake.

“I waited for you for a pathetic amount of time,” you laugh. “And you never showed.”

Eddie squeezes the steering wheel uncomfortably. “You said you waited an hour.”

You turn your head farther away from him. “I waited three.”

Eddie winces. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath. He sighs, feeling like shit because he is shit. “I’m sorry,” he tries, glancing at you but not making full contact.

You shake your head. “I’m not trying to guilt you or anything, I just…” You sigh and turn toward him, really turn toward him, hoping your voice holds the amount of genuinity that you feel. “I really like you, Eddie. I want to be your friend, if nothing else, I’d be happy just being your friend.”

He went quiet again, thinking in his head and wincing at something he’d thought. “‘Kay, so…” he shrugs nervously, “maybe I misjudged you.”

“You still thought this was a prank?”

He seems ashamed to admit it. “Yeah.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Pretty elaborate prank.” You shake your head and roll your eyes, kind of frustrated now as you look at him again. “C’mon, man. I’m best friends with Chrissy Cunningham.” That alone, you feel, should have been a clue that you weren’t totally an asshole. The frustration gets deeper as the stereotypes and the attitudes really get to you.

You scoff, hating the lump for still taking residence in your throat and keeping you from sounding calm. It doesn’t matter. “I’m a dumb cheerleader who hangs out with jocks, I get it, but that’s what happens when your parents are rich, and you need to join a school program that keeps you out of their faces. You hang out with the jocks because they’re the big dogs, and you’re supposed to be.”

Eddie hates himself for making you feel that way. “You’re not dumb,” he says quickly. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I know you’re smart…maybe not for liking me, but you’re smart. You get all the grades, you stay outta trouble–”

“It’s boring.” You roll your eyes.

“It’s good.” He almost laughs. “With my criminal record, I’m never getting a job outside of Radio Shack…and that’s if Radio Shack even takes me.”

You almost laugh a little, his comment on your intelligence granting you with far more praise than you think you deserve. You tilt your head toward him. “I’d be able to get you a job.”

He smiles. It’s one of those smiles that makes you shy and smiley and dumb with your schoolgirl crush. “I’m sure you could, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Oh, you’re a mess already. You try and fail to hide your grin at the name.

“So…” you look at him hopefully. “Truce?”

“Sure,” he nods, letting out the tiniest chuckle, one that sounds as though he’s releasing all the stress and tension from the night and becoming normal, or at least, his version of normal. “Truce,” he nods his head forward and it shakes his frizzy hair all over his head.

“We’re friends?” Your grin widens, whipped again already.

He looks over at you briefly, raising a teasing brow and making you feel lighter already with the look he casts you. “You feel like sitting at my table of rejects?”

You laugh excitedly. “Absolutely! You guys look like fun.”

His whole face drops in complete shock and surprise, and he stares at you like you’re crazy. “Wow, you really do like me.” He says it through a frown and you hide away, covering your face with your hands and mewling pathetically.

His frown reverses so quickly as he smiles and laughs loudly, filling your bones with the echo of his joy. “I mean it in a good way!” He moves one hand from the wheel, placing it on the centre console to drive one-handed as he normally does. He looks way more relaxed and you think he’s beautiful like this. His hand bumps yours. Your heart flutters as his pinky curls around your own to bring it in with the fond grin you’ve been wanting to see looking at you for years. “Friends.”

You smile wide. Your cheeks hurt and the lump in your throat is there for a different reason now. He leans his head over his right shoulder as he continues glancing at you.

“Oh, and…princess?’

You hum, your smile somehow becoming fonder at the softer mumble of your alias.

“I meant it earlier when I picked you up.” A passing streetlight shines on the side of his face and makes him look like an angel. “You look beautiful.”

Your voice breaks on your response, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter much anymore. “Thank you.”

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