#i didn't sketch so they count okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

denwritesandcries · 6 months

Text

Work of Art – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x artist!reader

Summary: You join a fight club just to spend more time with your pretty friend, Hazel Callahan. The fact that you're running out of time to finish an art project is just a detail.

Word count: 3,5k.

Content: loser!hazel trying to be smooth, sylvie being a chaotic ala, cursing, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, my questionable comedy, a little blood at the start, reader is a SIMP.

A/N: This came up to me after the ‘these girls are ugly’ scene and I had to make a dramatic story about it. I'm so soft for this character, I just wanna hold her and tell her how beautiful she is.

English is not my first language.

There's a sketchbook opened on your lap, a coal pencil on your hand and a fight happening in front of you.

Technically, that's what you were supposed to be doing too – fighting with someone – it was fight club, after all. Instead, you were sitting against a wall, hastily trying to finish a sketch for your art club project.

In your defense, you weren't even going to join this self-defense club in the first place, having been quite happy just occupying yourself with your art club after school, but your friend Sylvie came up to you one day completely excited about the idea, saying that she really wanted to participate, but that to keep going they needed more members and there enters you.

You said no right away, claiming that you would end up getting overwhelmed trying to balance both clubs with all the meetings, but Sylvie could be so convincing – more like insistent – with her methods, even shouting "PLEASE COME!" in a hallway full of people during classes, that you ended up giving in to when it became too embarrassing. Therefore, you agreed to go to a meeting without the promise of staying.

You regretted that decision and swore to burn Sylvie’s stupid beanie in the first punch that hitted you. You were terrible at fighting.

After being beaten up by a girl you didn't even know the name of, you ended up with a split lip and a bruise forming on your cheek and were ready to go find your friend and gently let her down by telling her that this really wasn't your thing, that is until Hazel Callahan approaches you.

Hazel. The same Hazel who sat three seats away from you in history class for four years, with whom you usually paired up during assignments but didn't talk much. The same Hazel who is standing in front of you with a weird smile and a washcloth in her hand.

“Uh…” you start, not quite sure what to say, “Do you need anything?”

"Oh!" She seems to realize that she's been silent and staring at you for too long, shaking her head, "No, not really, but you looked like you needed it," Hazel holds out the washcloth to you.

You notice that she's doing her best to look casual, shrugging her shoulders with fake indifference and pointing to your bleeding lip with the hand holding the cloth while the other is stuffed into the pocket of her baggy, ripped jeans. The sight is so captivating that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to, with the sudden feeling that you two should interact more.

“Oh, what a gentleman," you joke when you accept and take the cloth from her hand and are happy with the fact that the fabric is dark when your blood stains it, "You came to comfort me after spending all this time watching my ass being kicked?"

Her eyes widened in panic and Hazel squealed like an alarmed puppy, "No!" She exclaims, "I didn't mean that, really. It's just that you seemed upset and I–"

“Haze, it’s okay,” you interrupt and reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head, still in denial, her face red: "But you weren't that bad."

You snort, any trace of upset seeming to leave your body, “But it was bad.”

Hazel looks away from you while playing with the rings on one of her hands, she seems to want to tell you something, so you wait in silence until she has the courage.

"So…" she starts, "Are you staying? At the club, I mean."

'No,' you want to say, 'This place is completely chaotic, I have other things I'd like to do and I bet I'll get my ass kicked every time I go up against someone here.' But Hazel is looking at you with her head cocked to the side and bright, hopeful blue eyes and what kind of monster would you be to deny something and wipe that look off her face?

“Maybe.” you answer instead, an uncertain smile on your face, “I’m still thinking about it.”

That seems to be enough to satisfy her and you quickly turn around, putting the bloodstained cloth inside your backpack and packing your things to leave when you realize that you two were the only ones left in the place.

"Walk with me?" You nod towards the exit for Hazel to follow you and she does so shyly.

As you walk around the school grounds your bodies are close enough that your shoulders touch as you walk and the interaction brings you a surprising amount of comfort.

"You know," Hazel starts again, her voice at a high pitch, she clears her throat with a fist against her mouth before continuing, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but uh–" Hazel stutters, face red again, "It would be really nice if you stayed.”

You turn your head to look at her side face, her nervous attitude warming your heart in a jarring way and you suddenly wonder why you and Hazel have never been closer before, even though you've technically known each other for so many years. It seemed almost unfair to be deprived of her company for so long.

“This fighting thing really isn’t for me,” you shrugged and continued before a look of disappointment could wash over her, “But I think people make it worth coming back for.”

You hoped she would notice the flirting tone in your words; Hazel could be terrible at reading between the lines.

"Oh, you're right!" She replied with an excited smile, "I managed to make a lot of friends there since it started, maybe you can too!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Hazel to realize what she said just to tease her, and she did, panicking.

"I didn't mean that you don't have friends!" She shouted with a wave of her arms, "I just– I just–"

Hazel's calm facade falls completely and you feel a laugh grow in your chest as you laugh openly. She takes a moment to compose herself before relaxing a little when she sees that you're not bothered.

"Okay, got it." you say with a final giggle, "Don't worry, I'll show up since it would be so nice if I stayed."

Sure, she may not have understood your flirting the first time, but her red face up to her ears and shy gaze stuck on the floor could only be an indication that she had now caught on.

When you reach the point where your paths part, you can't resist talking to Hazel one last time:

"Haze," You call in a relaxed tone as she heads to her car, "Is that really a women's empowerment club?"

Hazel smiles as she opens the door, without any nervousness this time, "I have no idea, but I like it."

You think you might like it too if you were going to see her like this more often.

When you get home that day, with your untouched art supplies weighing down your backpack, there's a message on your phone left from Sylvie. That little bastard had left without you even noticing.

slaygirl:

hey what u throught about the club

*thouth

sHIT

*thought

runned right home when I saw your mad face lol

You snorted with a roll of eyes. You had already made the decision anyway, there was no point in actually being mad at her.

you:

well I guess is not THAT bad

I'll make the sacrifice and participate

slaygirl:

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOO

told u would like it

You ask yourself one last time if you should really do this or not; the times between the fight club and art club meetings were so close together, it could easily turn into a mess. Then you think about Hazel and the way she seemed enchanted by the idea of you being there.

Fuck it, you thought, you can handle both.

You couldn't handle both. That was why you found yourself against that wall now, running out of time and without the proper sketches you were supposed to present later.

It was a relatively simple exercise that you had to do: draw everyday landscapes in charcoal pencil by sight. The problem is that you didn't have time to draw the requested amount and you haven't had much inspiration other than classrooms and parts of the school lately.

Luckily, no one really minded when you decided to opt to just be a spectator today; PJ and Josie being too busy flirting with Brittany and Isabel and Sylvie being just excited about getting into a fight with someone.

"And what are you doing there?" Hazel's voice scares you as she sits down next to you with a curious look and a small smile at the sound of your surprised squeak.

You had no idea where she had come from, having quickly talked to her as soon as you arrived and then gone straight to your task, but you were very happy to have her there now. You've been getting closer over the last few weeks since joining the club, just as you wanted, which has made all of your juggling between tasks totally worth it.

"Shouldn't you be beating up someone?" You dodged the question, giving her a look of fake reprimand.

She scoffed with a hand gesture, "I'll be right there, I just passed by to check on you," She pointed with her chin to the notebook with you, "So?”

You shrug, "Just trying to finish this project, but nothing seems to make me want to draw." You turn the sketchbook so Hazel can see the simple outline of the open area in which you practice defense, your hands are stained with coal pencil and the sheet is messy with outlines of bodies overlapping the paper.

For the confused look on her face and the slight tilt of her head, you can tell Hazel doesn't quite understand what you mean, but she gives you a reassuring smile anyway.

"You're talented, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon."

You feel a stupid smile growing on your face and you can't help the way your voice softens, "Thanks, Haze."

She returns your smile for a moment, but quickly looks away, seeming to want to break off the interaction.

Hazel breaks the silence that suddenly settles in: “Will you teach me?”, she asks.

You look at her confused, “What? Drawing?”

“Hm-hm,” She nods with a pout, “I always see you drawing during class and I'm terrible at it.”

You find her extremely captivating.

“Okay,” you snort, “I’ll give you drawing lessons if you give me fighting lessons. You’re better at this than me, than everyone here, actually.”

And then she gets nervous again, cheeks colored a soft red, stammering, “Oh– I– hm, alright.”

You think maybe she's going to say something more, but Hazel gets up and shakes her head like a puppy and your heart warms, before saying goodbye, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder and running off to find a partner for the day's exercises.

A sigh leaves your chest as your gaze follows her as she walks, deciding to watch a little until you get the courage to finish your work.

Hazel is paired with a girl you had never spoken to but who you were sure was in your English class. A very pretty girl, by the way. It annoyed you how close they were and the way Hazel touched the girl so she could fix her position before they started fighting, the same way she did to you when you asked for help with your movements the other day; and it annoyed you even more the way the girl seemed to lean into her touch, exactly like you did on the few occasions when Hazel touched you for more than a few seconds.

Damn, you wish you knew the girl's name so you could actually get mad.

Your stomach turned uncomfortably the more you watched the duo, didn't that girl know that Hazel is... what? Your girlfriend? Your friend who you flirt with? This was practically the same as nothing. You had nothing. You couldn't be mad.

But man, you are annoyed.

With a shake of your head, you look away from the scene and open your sketchbook again, this time to a clean page. Better get back to work.

When you look up again, Hazel has the girl trapped in her arms. The way her best features are marked is unfairly hot, your silly jealousy ends up forgotten in favor of admiring how beautiful she is.

Unconsciously, you begin to trace the outline of her strong jaw onto the paper, letting the simple body outline you had begun take shape.

To you, Hazel was a work of art in every sense of the word, from her appearance to her most unusual mannerisms. Everything about her seemed to scream art and drawing her was an extremely satisfying action. It wasn't even the first time you had portrayed her, having made small sketches during the times you worked together in class and given them all to her – you wish you had kept at least one now –, maybe that's why she asked you for lessons anyway.

Either way, anything involving Hazel is more interesting than your original project.

You notice the way her hair falls over her face, the dark color contrasting with her big blue eyes, and you think it's a shame you didn't bring any supplies you could use to color them. There is a small cut where a yellowish bruise is on her cheek; Hazel seemed to always be recovering from some injury, even though she was the one who won most of the fights, not that you would count – liar, you did.

You draw the outline of her nose and lips with the practiced precision of someone who has done this many times before; she's wearing a dark green button-down shirt, one of your favorites on her, along with baggy black jeans and an old pair of vans; her hands are missing their usual rings and there are little green dinosaurs in her socks.

You won't add all of it, of course, it's not a full body drawing, but you can't help but notice every little detail about her.

Time passes without you noticing, your project remains completely forgotten while you draw Hazel from memory, no longer needing to turn to the annoying vision of her and the other girl. When the meeting is almost finished, Sylvie approaches you smiling and looks over your shoulder.

"Dude!" She exclaims in a knowing tone, “So that’s why you actually agreed to join the club!”

“Shh girl, do you want everyone here to know!?” You whisper-shouting and quickly pull the beanie she was wearing over her nose tightly, ignoring the chocked ‘fucking rude’ that Sylvie lets out.

“You should tell her,” Sylvie declares, because of course she would understand right away that you have a crush.

“What?" You ask, alarmed, “Like right now?”

"Yeah!" She pushes your shoulder in encouragement, “The day is almost over, it’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.” Sylvie shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t just go there and tell.” You mumble, “And I have things to do.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she likes you back!”

“And how can you know that?” You asked.

“How come you don’t know that?” Sylvie replied, “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m not going to tell her anything now.” You insist stubbornly.

Sylvie looks like she's about to say something else, but a tricksy smile forms on her face when she sees someone approaching.

"Tell what?" Hazel's voice coming from nearby startles you and when you turn your face to find her, she's alone, no sign of the other girl in sight.

You were about to stutter something in response – and most likely make a fool of yourself – but Sylvie was quicker.

“Oh!” Your friend exclaims in false innocence, “I was trying to convince her to show you her drawing, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

You elbow her in panic and Sylvie lightly tugs at your hair as she stands up; you don't notice the dirty look Hazel gives to the interaction, wringing her hands in her pockets.

Sylvie walks away arching her eyebrows in a suggestive expression at you and your cheeks burn at the implication as Hazel takes her place beside you.

“So…” she begins, her voice strangely tense, “Did you finish what you were drawing? Can I see it?"

“Well…” You feel nervous, there’s no way to get out of this without making her sad and that’s the last thing you would want to do. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go ahead: “Inspiration came to and I drew something, but it’s not for my project, I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

"Yes, I will!" Hazel adjusts herself excitedly, your knees touching, “Can I see it?” she repeats.

You gulp and nod, turning the sketchbook towards her. Hazel lens even closer to you to see the result, her chin brushing your shoulder and a hand running up your back and resting there, surprising you, you feel the coldness of her hand and the outline of her rings – when she did put them back? – through the fabric of your t-shirt.

You feel the moment Hazel registers the drawing on the sheet and her breath hitches, the action sending a shiver up your spine.

"Then?" You ask nervously, “What do you think?”

But Hazel remains silent. When you turn to look at her, her jaw is dropped in complete disbelief and a deep blush covers her face from her cheeks to her ears.

“Haze?” You call, unsure.

“That’s– it’s beautiful.” She stutters, one hand delicately touches the paper, coal staining her fingers, “It’s me. It’s me… beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” you correct without hesitation and Hazel’s gaze turns to you, “That’s nothing compared to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, “Why did you do that?”

"Why?" You echo, “You know why.”

And Hazel knows. You know she knows. There hasn't been a single day that the two of you haven't flirted, that there hasn't been this tension between you. There's no way she doesn't know, but someone needs to admit it.

She looks at you expectantly, the same lovely hope as before is back in her eyes, and again, who are you to take that look off her face?

You sigh, “I have a crush on you, Haze.”

She snorts, voice shaking in a confident attempt of a joke: “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow and give her an unimpressed look and Hazel immediately backtracks.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She exclaims, “I just– I like you too, a lot.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips when you put the notebook and pencil aside to look at her fully and your faces are so close that you would only have to lean in for your lips to touch. God, you've never wanted something so much before.

You notice every little detail of her face; a fallen eyelash on her cheek, the faint marks of dark circles over her eyes, freckles over her nose that you had never gotten close enough before to see.

Hazel looks at you like she can't believe what's happening and honestly, neither can you.

“Please,” she whispers, eyes locked on your lips.

Hazel Callahan was the most beautiful work of art you had ever seen and as an artist, you know you should never touch artworks, but Hazel asks you and you could never deny her anything.

Your lips meet and it's softer than you thought it could be – even though you've thought about it many times then – and your hands rest on her cheeks like they belong there, she lets out a sigh of contentment that warms your heart.

When you pull away, there's a coal stain on Hazel's face from where your hand was before and her pupils are dilated like dark pits, it's unfair the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

She kisses you again, shorter this time and you would have chased her lips if it weren't for someone's voice scaring you:

“ATTA GIRL, I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” Sylvie is on the other side of the gym, cheering and pointing at you.

You had completely forgotten that the meeting wasn't over yet.

“Dude,” PJ starts on the other side, “When did this happend?”

“You know this is a public space right?” Josie asks with a hand on her hip, “Don’t make out here, man.”

You shake your head in amusement and start to gather your things, “Okay, okay,” you say, “Let’s make out somewhere else then, come on Haze.”

Hazel seems too flustreaded to speak and doesn't argue as you take her hand and pull her along as you leave to the sounds of your friends cheering and joking.

“Where are we going?” She asks, you’re still holding hands.

You shrug innocently, “I promised you drawing lessons, didn’t I?”

In the end you don't show up at the art club that day, too busy spending time with your newest girlfriend and it's totally worth it.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #denwrites

552 notes · View notes

13keithxpidge13 · 11 months

Note

OH OH ! and miles wanting to count all of hobies piercings because hobie didnt remember how many he had (or even miles didnt ask and just started counting out of nowhere and surprises hobie hehehe) .. getting up really close to his face and noticing how pink hobie got . realising that he gets pink like that when he gets close to miles ....

"Have you noticed it at all?" Gwen asks him and Miles hums as he colors in his sketchbook.

They're sitting on top of one of the ledges in the Spider-Society HQ, chilling and relaxing as they wait for another mission to be announced. For now, Miles is biding his time by sketching.

Beside him, Gwen huffs and jostles his shoulder and Miles curses as he messes up his newest drawing.

"Gwen!" He shouts.

"I'm asking you a question," She laughs as he erases the imperfect line. "Have you noticed how Hobie changes colors?"

"Yeah," He gruffs out. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," She says. "But...haven't you noticed how he changes color based on how he's feeling and that he goes pink around, well, /you/? And, /only/ you?"

"What are you talking about?" Miles glances at her with a raised eyebrow. "No he doesn't."

Gwen scoffs. "Yeah. He does."

"no he doesn't."

"he does."

"no!"

"yes!"

"Gweeennn," Miles whines and slaps his hands over his face as his cheeks darken at the implications of what she's saying. "Don't give me hope."

"I'm just saying," Gwen laughs. "It's pretty obvious."

Miles grumbles and glances away from her as he crosses his arms over his chest. "...I guess..." He mumbles and Gwen leans closer, humming. Miles puffs out his cheeks. "I suppose I /have/ noticed-"

"aHA!" Gwen shakes him and Miles breaks out into giggles. "I knew it! He sooooo has a crush on you! He likes you back, Miles, it's soooo obvious!"

"It's not!" He protests. "He's so indifferent I can never tell!"

"Well," Gwen smiles. "Why don't you try to catch him in the act? Make him bend to your cuteness and charm!" She teases as she pulls at his cheeks. "C'mon, I'll even help you!"

"But, how would we even do that in the first place?" Miles laughs at her poking. "It's not like I can just go up and /ask him/, he'll probably deny it! And, oh, maybe that will make him realize that /I/ like him! Gah! I can't!"

"You won't have too," Gwen reassures. "Just make him turn pink around you, do something that'll get him flustered and confront him about why he turns pink whenever you're around! Surely that'll lead to a love confession!"

Miles huffs in embarrassment and scratches at his sore cheeks that were whining from being pulled. "Oh, alright," He sighs. "But, /you/ have to help set up a time to do this!"

Gwen grins cheekily and pulls out her watch to message Hobie.

"Already on it."

"Uhm, thanks for coming over, man."

"Yeah, no problem, mate. Needed an excuse to leave my dimension fo' awhile anyhow."

Miles chuckles and tries to hide his nervousness as they both enter his room through the window he left open, being careful not to make too much noise as his parents were probably cooking dinner and he didn't want to disturb them.

They sit on his bed and a few moments of awkward silence passes by before Hobie bumps their shoulders together.

"somethin' you needed from me personally? Or did ya' just wan' hang out?"

"uh," Miles coughs and laughs nervously. "Well, uhm, I guess, uh-" He tries to come up with an excuse other than /I wanted to see you turn pink/, and then it hits him. "I, uh, I wanted to draw you!" He shouts and immediately curses himself for it.

Hobie blinks at him largely before laughing. "Ah, I see," He nods. "Ya' wanted a reference for ya' sketches? Well, all ya' had to do was ask, babe."

Miles laughs awkwardly and blindly grabs for his sketchbook which is on his bed.

"Uhm, okay," He brags as he holds his pencil shakily. "Can you uhm, can you turn so I can see your face? I need, uh, I need to get your facial structure right."

Hobie grins. "Sure, honey," He says and turns according to how Miles wants him too.

A few minutes pass while miles glances up and down, looking back up and down at him to make sure he's getting his face as accurate as possible. He gets so into drawing him that, when he glances up and sees the piercings on his face, he blinks.

"Oh," Miles deadpans and Hobie tilts his head.

"Hm?"

"Oh, uhm, well," Miles flushes. "I just, I noticed that you have a lot of piercings...I noticed it before but uh...you have a lot more than I thought."

Hobie grins cheekily.

"Ya' wanna count 'em?" He asks and Miles giggles nervously.

"Uhm, I might need too..." He says. "I wanna uh, I wanna get everything as accurate as possible."

"Mhm," Hobie hums. "I'm sure. Go ahead, love."

He had multiple piercings on his ears, on his eyebrows, on his nose...

Miles gets in closer even though his heart is racing and reaches up to touch his chin. "You've got one on your bottom lip, too?" He asks, tilting his head and attempting to remain calm. "It's big. Doesn't it hurt?"

Hobie's breathing echoes throughout his ear. "Nah, babe," Hobie laughs but it seems a little off. "Hurt at first but, uh, goes away after a lil' time."

"Yeah?" Miles brushes his fingers against his bottom lip and Hobie nearly jumps out of his skin.

Instead, his body goes /bright pink/ and Miles twitches.

"Fuck-" Hobie curses and stands up from the bed. "Sorry, fuck, sorry," He brushes his hands down his vest as though he were trying to brush away the color. "Sorry, mate. I don't know why it fuckin' does that shit, gods-"

"You don't?" Miles asks innocently. "Gwen said it was because your body changes colors based off your emotions like everything else does in your universe."

"That's-" Hobie stops and turns, mumbling something about Gwen being a snitch before he sighs. "Yeah. It does. It's fuckin' weird like that."

"Sooo..." Miles stands beside him and tilts his body closer to him. "What does pink mean? Because you go pink around me a /lot/, I've noticed. What is it? I won't make fun of you, dude."

Hobie's quiet, exhaling loudly through his mouth as he turns away and his cheeks seem to darken even further.

Miles' brows furrow. Come on. He has to /know/-

Hobie leans his head back and sighs once more.

"It's 'cause..." He swallows and scratches the back of his neck. "It's 'cause...I like ya', mate. Not in the bullshit platonic way either. Like, in the I kinda wanna kiss ya' and take ya' out to dates and hold ya' hand and shit."

Miles feels the breath punched out of him. "You-" He can't stop the wide smile that etches across his face. "Really?"

Hobie runs a hand down his face and mumbles; "Well, yeah..."

Miles almost jumps and down with joy until Hobie continues;

"I'm sorry, mate," He says. "I know it's prolly weird, ain't it? I don't wanna make ya' uncomfortable, love. If ya' want me gone, I'll leave, y'know? Just say the word, mate, and I'll be gone-"

"No!" Miles grabs onto him instinctively and Hobie jumps at it. "Don't go! You misunderstood me!"

"Wha-what?" Hobie stutters. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"You-I-" Miles felt his cheeks darken. He sputters for a moment and nearly lets go of Hobie's hand before the elder teen grasps at his fingers again so he couldn't get very far. Miles licks his lips and feels impossibly flustered.

"Miles?" Hobie leans forward, obviously concerned and curious. "What did you mean?"

"I just-" Miles turns his head away and Hobie shakes his head. "It's nothing-"

"nuh, uh, sweetheart," Hobie's smiling now. He's grinning from ear to ear and gently turns Miles to face him again and the younger teen is impossibly red. "Somethin' ya' wanna tell me? Like how I told you?"

Miles licks his lips and their eyes meet. Suddenly, a surge of confidence overtakes him and Miles grins.

"You wanna know what I meant?" He stands on his tip toes. "I'll show you."

He locks lips with Hobie and the punk grunts with it.

Miles grabs a hold of the back of his neck so he can force the elder teen to dip forward so Miles can get a better grip on him and he hums as Hobie licks at his lips

Hands grab at his waist and Miles squeals when he realizes how /big/ Hobie's hands are, how perfect they fit around him and his small hips. It makes shivers run up his spine like electricity and Hobie chuckles against his tongue as their muscles dances together.

Then, their lips part and a string of slick saliva is all that connects them.

Miles pants for air and knows his cheeks are flushed impossibly dark. Hobie leans forward again and kisses both cheeks, peppering his skin with soft slick kisses that have his breath hitching.

"Finally," Hobie murmurs. "Yer so fuckin' cute, love. So cute to kiss me like that."

Miles pouts. "It wasn't meant to be /cute/, man! It was supposed to be hot! I wasn't cute, I was /hot/," He whines and Hobie kisses his nose with a chuckle.

"Yes, yes, of course," He coos and Miles scoffs.

"Agree with me!"

"I am!"

"You're not!"

Hobie merely laughs and kisses him again, successfully silencing him.

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #across the spiderverse

778 notes · View notes

sevi-rous · 1 year

Text

AN ARTIST FOR AN ARTIST 📜

xavier thorpe.

word count : 1.196

genre : fluff, schoolmates to lovers (?), mutual pining

warnings : bad grammar i think, a few errors [ please ignore ! ]

being raised in a family of artistic vampires was an emotional roller coaster. there was your mother, who had a ridiculous fondness for landscape painting. your father, who enjoyed abstract paintings and portrait drawings. your brother, who was a fan of realism. and, of course, you, who was a mixture of them all.

you were walking around campus, looking for anything interesting to draw or paint. you came to a halt near the archery field and noticed xavier thorpe sitting down with his bow beside him. you turned around and sat down on the nearest chair.

you began drawing him because you found his appearance intriguing. his face shape was... pretty. of course, in your own opinion. your gaze alternates between him and your sketchbook. your fingertips were filthy from smudging the pencil. you were finished in a matter of minutes. you sighed and stood up to return to your dorm.

"oh, who's that?" inquired your roommate, yoko. you flinched and instinctively shut your sketchbook. "uh, no one. it's my oc. original character, i mean..." you said as you sat up in bed. "are you sure? that looks exactly like xavier thorpe. since when was he your 'original character?'" she asks, chuckling.

you sighed and leaned back in your bed. turning to the side "oooh, do you like him? i can set you up with him," she whistles as she walks to her side of the room. "and how will you do that? you're not even close, yoko. i think you don't even talk together," you say, sitting up again, arms crossed across your chest.

"oh shush, [name]. we're not close, but we have this secret society. i hope you understand," she said as she opened her notebook. she takes out a pen and starts writing. she then folds it into an airplane and launches it at you.

you caught the plane and unfolded the paper. It was written there,

"xavier thorpe's phone number — xxx-xxxx-xxx

thank me later, ♡"

you give her a blank look before taking your phone and leaving the room. "stay safe, my lovely [name!]," she exclaims before laughing.

you put your hood on when you noticed it was raining outside. you walked through the halls, holding the paper that yoko had given you as well as your phone. you went around in circles, debating whether or not to text him. a notification appeared as you were about to enter his phone number.

from unknown:

hey, i saw you staring. do we have a problem?

to unknown:

who even r u

fom unknown:

dang you already forgot? seems like you were having a good time staring at me earlier

lol kidding

it's xavier

to unknown:

sorry i stared, didn't know u saw me

from unknown:

how couldn't i? you have a very powerful aura

to unknown:

i do?

from unknown:

yeah

what do you say about meeting up rn? i'm bored

to unknown:

um sure i guess

i have nothing to do anyways

from unknown:

i know

unknown started sharing their location with you.

you ran back to your dorm room, your fingers running through your hair. you rushed through the door, grabbing your sketchbook in haste. "woah, easy [name], are you okay?" yoko asks, but you've already left. "my roomie has a crush. i can't wait to tease her about this," she sighs and laughs.

when you see him waiting for you, you hide in a corner. he was sketching something in his own sketchbook. he had airpods in both of his ears. you can tell he's lost in the music because he kept bopping his head to the beat. it's nice to see him at ease.

you approach him slowly, but he is too preoccupied with drawing. you sit next to him, peering at what he's drawing. he flinched seeing you next to him, then hugged his sketchbook as if it were going to vanish. you both look at each other in shock, but when you see his face, you start laughing.

"why are you laughing?" he inquired, removing one of his airpods and placing it in its case. he flipped the sketchbook over and placed it beside him so you couldn't see it. "your face is hilarious," you continued to laugh.

"is that supposed to be a compliment or not?" you ask, making him scoff. "we only met today, and you're already making fun of me," he said, putting his hand on his chest and acting hurt. you laughed at his antics and looked through his sketchbook. "what did you draw earlier?"

"uh, random stuff. do you want to see my ability?" he asks, his gaze drawn to yours. "sure, bet it's cool."

"oh, it is," he laughs as he takes up his sketchbook. he turns to a page where he drew a spider. he holds his hands above the drawing, and you can see the spider slowly emerge from it. "woah, that's cool. is it real?" you exclaim, your eyes wide with admiration and curiosity. "no, squish it."

you let the spider crawl onto your hands then you squish the spider. the spider vanishes into dust. xavier can't seem to take his gaze away from you as your mouth forms a 'o.'

"say... why were you staring at me earlier? at the archery field?" he asks abruptly, jolting you awake from your daydream. "oh that. um," you fiddle with your fingers, debating whether or not to show him what you drew.

you sighed, lost. you reached for your sketchbook, which was resting on your thighs, and turned to the last page. you look away from him as you hand him your book.

he silently scans the page. you were clearly thinking a lot. 'was he mad that I drew him without his permission?' 'does the drawing look bad? "Am I bad at portrai—'

when he handed you back your book, you snapped out of your thoughts. when you looked at him, he was looking straight ahead. he appeared to have a lot on his mind.

"is it bad?" you wonder nervously. you were on the verge of fleeing, too embarrassed to listen to what he had to say. he gives you a quick glance before returning his attention to the scenery in front of him.

you were about to turn away when you noticed a small smile on his face. "no one's ever drawn me. i figured no one would draw me because I'm the artist. but you did. it's nice seeing my face on your sketchbook. it's nice. really nice," he rambles, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"actually, i've been drawing you as well. i saw you once at Weathervane and you looked... cool. i don't usually leave nevermore, but i came to stop by weathervane every single day just to see you. oh god, that... sounds creepy, sorry," he laughs nervously, avoiding your gaze.

"no, it's fine. you're cool. this is all... so cool," you say, smiling up at the ceiling. "thank you," he mumbles.

"hm? for what?"

"for drawing me."

"And thank you," you say with a smile.

he looks at you, puzzled.

"for drawing me as well."

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fluff #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday #xavier thorpe u own my heart 🫶🏻

3K notes · View notes

harmonictechnicality · 8 months

Text

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

715 notes · View notes

deblklesb · 8 months

Text

[Head Over Heels — Abby x Reader Oneshot]

[rugby player!abby, artist!reader, fluff, pining]

cw: reader is a total mess, abby is brother's friend. there's not explicit content but still MDNI.

a/n: I've put my whole simpussy in this, like... reader is a loser lesbian and this fact is totally self-inserted, sorry not sorry. again, so so sorry for the wait! this is just some fluff with reader being a simp, a mess, all over the place for abby anderson teheehee 👉🏾👈🏾, i hope you like it anon!!!

word count: 3,4k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

The cool winter wind was reaching your face as you pedaled to your class, high speed across campus because you were late. The alarm didn't clock, you took too much time eating breakfast, and now you wish to all the heavens the teacher has not arrived yet.

Your brother was very much confused when you started to run around the house this morning.

"I didn't know you had class, you usually wake up first so I assumed…"

"The alarm didn't clock", you yelled from the bathroom, brushing your teeth as fast as you could, but decently.

Now, the open buttons of your shirt allowed the wind to come in so you wouldn't be as sweaty. Fixing your hair after parking and locking your bicycle, you greeted someone working and headed to the room, so frustrated to get late to your favorite class.

"You're lucky our model for today is more late than you", the teacher said as soon as you got inside.

"Sorry, Ms. Addams", your smile was weak. You wanted to disappear, that was your favorite teacher.

The only tripod available was in the front, no one liked it because the lightning from there was so confusing it messed up every sketch. Lucky for you, during winter the sun isn't that bright, so you fixed your stuff and just got a moment to breathe. Being a teacher's pet didn't mean sitting in the front, that was new for you.

"Hey, what happened?" Gloria, your friend, reached out. "You're never late"

"My alarm", you shudder, sighing. "Well, I'm here now. We just have to wait for the model"

"I heard is some girl from the rugby team"

Well, that's news. Your teacher is doing some work indeed, trying to expose her students to different body shapes and all.

"Nice. Perhaps she's nice and will carry me around, my legs are burning from pedaling so hard", it was a joke, a silly one, but as soon as a woman who wasn't enrolled in that class got in, you knew she could definitely carry you around. You also knew that because you knew her.

She was probably the biggest woman you've seen in person, and absolutely the most beautiful.

Freckled, creamy skin on her arms and face, honey-blonde hair in a braid that fell on her shoulder, a firm and strong body worthy of an athlete. Her clothes were simple, just cargo pants with a plain shirt and boots, but boy, oh boy, she was looking gorgeous. As always.

"Sorry for the time, boss, I had to get out later from early practice", for some unknown reason, her voice, too, sounded too good to be true and made you melt inside with just a simple phrase that wasn't even directed to you. "Hope it doesn't mess around with the class"

"It's okay, Abigail. And you don't have to call me boss, we've talked about it", your teacher smiled fondly, hugging the tall woman and making obvious the size difference. You were probably the same height as the dark-skinned woman, so that means you were as high as Abby's chin. Being next to her on other situations made you very self-aware of that fact.

This useless information would always make you squirm. This time it was on the chair in the middle of the class, hoping for all the God's nobody noticed.

"Kids, this is Abby. She will be our model for today and two other classes, so make use of the anatomy to study properly", she was very comfortable next to the rugby player, which made you deduce they knew each other well. "Well, now go prep yourself, darling, we have to start"

"Do I… Take everything, or something?" Just the mention of her being nude made your mind buzz around and it wasn't a good sign, considering you had to focus to draw.

"Keep your underwear, please", the older woman smiled sympathetically, turning around and heading to the back of the room, her usual initial spot in every live reference class.

Abby took off her boots and left next to an empty chair, starting to undress then.

Nobody was looking at you, but you tried to keep it cool and professional. Ignoring the heat on your face and the sweat arising on your palms, you looked at Gloria to hide your embarrassment and noticed she was looking back at you trying not to laugh.

"You're very gay", she whispered, making you roll your eyes and then look at your empty sketchbook. She wasn't wrong, though, you were very much a lesbian and it was obvious.

Those type of reactions were normal whenever Abby was around, but you could definitely go through that class without it.

You put effort into abstracting the sensations and feelings that make room into you as soon as Abby stands in the small, lifted platform in the center of the room, the ambient light hitting her just right. She positioned herself in a simple form, waving briefly at you from there when she spotted you in the front. You did the same back, a small smile to be nice - but not too big to give it away that being around her made you almost piss your pants - and then you all started to work

It was a figure drawing training, something you usually hated because you had to think too much about form, proportion, perspective and lightning. You loved to do loose sketches and grew very fond of gesture drawing, too much for your liking, so that now that you had to stick to the forms and not the rhythm and movement, your mind froze a little. Despite that, you loved doing art and loved that class even though it had nothing directly linked to your major.

Abby had strong features, in the sense of focus. The muscles of the arms and legs, the shape of her face, the abdomen and her whole posture caught your attention too much. It wasn't just the imagery, but a whole set of little elements that formed a distinctive energy. Even the braided hair was part of that, and at each second, each line traced and marked shadow, you tried to remind yourself that it was a class.

After 10 minutes or so, she took a break - admittedly, you had no idea how those models stood still for so long. While she stretched and relaxed her muscles, people started to talk with each other around the room, the small buzz of conversations surrounding, as you turned to Gloria.

"I'm dying here", you whispered, stretching your hands and fingers a bit. "She's so pretty"

"I have to admit… She is very handsome. I don't usually hang out in your brother's dorm so I don't see her often…"

"They're together all the time, I am very lucky to have my face shoved into a book all the time because then I don't have to have buckled knees around her" Gloria laughed at your despair, the whispers almost a cry for help.

"Let's gather our focus, people", Ms. Addams called, and just like that the break ended.

Although the object of analysis was Abby's body and structure, you just had to make a small drawing of her face. Shading and putting too much effort, you ended up doing another one. And by the time the class ended, you had a main figure drawing of her body in the first pose, two others of her face and another simple sketch. A very productive class, and you felt yourself bursting with inspiration still.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I'll have to go now, boss!", the blonde reached to her clothes as people started to pack their stuff. You tried not to look at her figure too much, but took your time putting the material in place just because, y'know… Care. It had nothing to do with the possibility to look at her from afar a little bit more.

"That's okay, Abigail. Thank you for your help, same time next week. Send a hug to your father!", Ms. Addams waved goodbye.

"Hey" you looked up from your backpack when Gloria tapped your shoulder. She pointed to the door, where Abby was standing, ready to go. The blonde was looking at you, a smile on her face. "Tell your brother he owes me twenty bucks. See ya!"

"Okay, bye", you nodded and chuckled lightly at the comment, imagining the type of bet they both must've done this time.

As soon as the other students started to get out, your friend gave you small punches in the arm, giggling.

"Stop!", you felt your face warm, it was so fucking ridiculous to be like this around her every time. And the worst part is that she didn't even notice you that much, so you were a head over heels with zero hope.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What do you mean you were naked around my sister?!" You rolled your eyes with the discussion, ready for the mess your brother was about to make.

"Nobody was naked, I had underwear!" Abby's voice was playful, but you knew your brother was two steps from going serious about it.

"Stop being a drama king, asshole", you grunted while going to the kitchen, not even looking at them to escape the risk of drooling over the tall woman sitting on the couch.

"Hey, I'm the big brother here, I was supposed to be looking over you!" His voice started to get a pitch higher, you could imagine the indignant face already.

"You don't even give me rides home, too busy with your flings", you shout from the kitchen now, filling up your bottle.

You were trying so hard to focus on studying a subject you were not interested in, ready to throw it in the air to watch some Ghibli movies instead. Filling the water bottle was almost an excuse to get out of that madness, but having to hold your reactions because of Abby's presence was not ideal.

"That's right, get him again! Get him for me!" And now her voice is closer, almost like she's in the kitchen with you. It makes you flinch slightly, almost dropping the bottle before you turn around to see her strong figure on the entrance.

"Look, you touch her and I will fucking throw that rugby ball right into your face!"

"Jesus Christ, Matt, shut up! Nobody is keeping you from your shit, leave me alone?! It's just Abby!"

Your mom would be annoyed to be around you both, good thing you lived together alone.

"Yeah, Matt, it's just Abby!" She repeats.

You finally look at her properly. She has a simple shirt on and sweatpants, it's casual but it looks too good on her - as usual. Her hair is down - you loved her hair down - and a scrunchie lies on her wrist. Her freckles are so visible from where you stand, it's almost like cute details painted directly on her face to compose the most beautiful work of art.

"I would like to see it, by the way", you snap out of your trance with her words directed to you.

Her hips touch the kitchen counter when she's one step closer, a sympathetic smile making your hands tingle and her tone weaker now that she's just talking to you.

"What?"

"Your drawings. From the class"

"Oh-", you look away, trying to come up with an excuse. "But… We still have other classes to go. It's better to see it at the end and all… And they're not even that good", you're holding that water bottle for your dear life, afraid that it slips from your hands due to the sweat.

"You don't wanna show me, that's fine", she chuckle, hands up in acceptance.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"No, I'm not being funny, it's serious. If you don't wanna show me, it's okay. Was just curious y'know, after all I'm just standing there. Don't know how you do whatever you're doing"

That's the most you've ever talked to Abby, and she's so nice. Genuinely trying to make you comfortable. And it makes you fucking sick, you just wanna spit out that you would like to have her posing for you every day for ever, to have her like your muse, to kiss her face after drawing it millions of times- You're such a loser.

"Oh, I get it…" you nod, trying to come up with a good response. "Well, I guess after the classes, I mean when you stop posing for us, I could show you whatever I did. Just wanna be more confident, it takes a little bit more of time to be familiar to the subject"

"If that's your saying, boss lady, I absolutely believe it", she's smiling wider now and you just wanna scream into a pillow about how incredibly cute her cheeks are.

"Okay, ahm… I have to go back to the room… To study other stuff that is not art, unfortunately", you point to the corridor, mind going blank with the mere proximity between you both. "So, uh… See you later?"

"Hope so. Good study session", Abby gives you space to get out of the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon you keep repeating that interaction in your mind. Analyzing you every word and wondering if she thought you were, like, embarrassing.

Still, the image of her cute cheeks when she smiled at you and the way she seemed really interested in your drawings took over your attention, it was all you could think about the rest of the day because you're such a simp and she's so beautiful. Fuck this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's now game season, which means that the college campus is a mess. Everybody seems so agitated, a buzz surrounds each corner while posters adorn the walls and murals, calling for the next big rugby game.

The hype around the event kinda mobilizes you too, even though you're not even that into sports. You're actually so out of this type of entertainment, but eventually if you sit to watch with your brother you get so excited and exalted that it almost looks like you've been following the teams forever. Matt actually thinks it is so funny that you keep asking him the rules and then start to scream at the TV once you'd pick it up enough to finally enjoy the match.

"If they don't kick their asses I'll actually lose fifty bucks" Gloria reveals as you both enter the building for the art class.

"Fifty?!" Your eyes almost jump from your skull. "Do you have that much faith in our team?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know", she laughs. "Really, I don't follow them… But if you bet fifty bucks, they must be at least decent"

"Your girlfriend is a good player, if that's what you wanna ask", the taller woman smiles at you with that suggestive manner.

"I didn't ask!"

"But you were thinking about it"

"Shut up." You definitely were. "And she's not my girlfriend" Unfortunately.

As you both enter the room, early enough this time, you recall the fact that it's your last class with Abby as a model. Something inside of you mourns the future absence of such a big source of inspiration for you. Your sketchbook (the personal one) has pages filled with drawings of her - you didn't tell anyone, but you went through her instagram page and used some gym photos as references.

One night you brother stormed in your room and you had to close the book as fast as possible, trying to mask your embarrassment. If he knew that you were so into Abby, he would be a hundred percent more unbearable.

"Hey, teacher", the tall woman soon walked in the class, backpack and a massive bottle of water on one hand. "Last day, uh?"

"Yes, dear", people started to settle for the beginning of the session, fixing materials and angles. "I would like to thank you for your time and disposition, I imagine it isn't easy to stand in front of a class of stranges that are meticulously looking at you", everybody chuckled. Abby took her shirt in the corner, putting the clothes on a chair. Against your will, you absolutely checked on her. But life wouldn't let you have it, and so, like being conscious of your actions, the blonde glanced back at you, which caused you to face away immediately. Jesus fucking Christ, could you be more obvious? "So thank you, again, and I hope you somehow enjoyed the experience"

"I certainly did, boss" She smirked friendly, going to the small platform in front part of the room and standing with arms on her back, legs slightly spareted. Why on earth was she so good looking? "I don't really mind the looks, after all there are dozens of people staring at the games and judging us all the time, so… Well, thank you too for inviting me, it was truly nice! Needing againg, I'm here for it!"

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to the side, Gloria was smirking like she knew something you didn't.

"You'll get your pages wet with all the drooling", she muttered.

"Wanna see who gets the pages wet?" You playfully put a hand on your own watter bottle, having her giggling.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Einstein for sure had a point with relativity, because that class flew away like a lightning for you. The biggest pity of all, since Abby wouldn't be there after that day.

Once again you end up doing a main drawing of her body, using the remaining time to put some doodles of her face around it. It was like this for every class, different than the ones she wasn't the model. However, by that time you were already used to sketching her - hence the alone sessions in your room - so you could do much easier work now. You hoped no one noticed this fact, because a question about how you got so instinctive when drawing Abby would be blatantly dodged.

You already could tell in detail the difference between her arm muscles and the last model, for example, but not only the imagery of it: you thought about the biological singularity of her muscle development.

As soon as the class ended, you closed the sketchbook and tried not to think too deeply about the whole situation. It would be fine. Abby would stop being the model and so you would see her less, consequently thinking about her less and moving on so easily. Like, so easily.

"Hey", you froze with her voice, more specifically when noticing that it was almost next to you. Her face was the first thing you saw when looking up from your backpack. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Should I?"

"Well… I could use some cheers", she was still shirtless. Heck, she was still in her intimate clothes.

You were not thinking about how she used a simple bra and nice black boxers.

"I thought you had plenty. With all the staring", why were you being so sarcastic?

"Your staring is kinda different, if that's what you wanna hear", she smirked, crossing her arms. Good lord, save me from barking in front of her with all this attitude. "And I would like you there"

"So maybe I'll go", you shrugged, trying to be cool about it. Something inside of you said that maybe you were being too cool about it, maybe she would think you don't really care; that's not what you want her to think. Shit, were you doing this wrong?

"Don't tell your brother I asked you this while almost nude, I don't think he would let me get close to you ever again", her chuckles were so cute, she was so cute. You were so done.

"Oh, do you want to get close to me again?" Abby stepped back while still smirking, everybody seemed to be out already - though you couldn't tell exactly, she was still your main focus.

"Maybe" Now she shrugged, finally getting close to her clothes again. "Preferably when he's not around"

What was that? Oh, probably your heart skipping several beats.

"Talking like that, I might as well think you're hitting on me, Abby" The most surprising thing was how you weren't laying down on a puddle at this point. Instead, you were chuckling back, hands sweaty and stomach twisting in a rush.

"Am I?" She grabbed her pants. "You'll probably have to come to the game and see!"

After another smirk from her, you just shook your head and walked away from the room with a simple "See you later then".

The interaction started to play again in your mind, Gloria was standing outside with wide eyes and a smile fighting to appear. That adrenaline rush made your mind a whirlwind.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend whispered, holding your arm and following your steps.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

554 notes · View notes

tainsan · 8 months

Text

misfits VIII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: verbal and physical abuse, anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of blood

⇥ word count: 11.1k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive situations, please read with care. this chapter is very angsty.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“Wait backtrack, you have known them for years?” Jisung questions, extremely confused by the story you are telling him. Jisung's touch on your back provides a faint sense of comfort amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs you. His hand moves in a soothing rhythm, gliding up and down your trembling spine. The sobs that wrack your body become a symphony of sorrow, echoing through the air, and intertwining with Jisung's soft touch. With each tremor that courses through you, he maintains a steady presence, a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. His touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture.

Sniffling, you answer, “Yes, they were that group I was with in high school, the ones who I got friendly with just before my mom died,” you explain, best you can with tears falling down your face and your voice shaking in your throat.

“Huh? You said they died?” Jisung asks, confused by the sudden confession from you, your words not making sense in his head that the eight you used to love were alive.

“I knew it wasn’t true.”

“But if the police said they died, then surely it would be true?”

“I never heard it from the police, I heard it from a guy who claimed to be a family member of ‘captain’. Who is apparently Hongjoong, I guess? It never made any sense, there was no proof, only this stranger’s word.”

“That makes more sense,” Jisung admits, nodding at the information before he realises something, “that’s likely why they changed their name from KQ Fellaz and ‘faked’ their death, so they could have a fresh start.”

“I suppose so, they wanted to start anew,” you conclude, trying to find any excuse or reason for them to have lied to you.

“That’s probably why they didn't tell you then.” Jisung raises his hand to rest on your head, patting it gently in an attempt to comfort you, yet all it does is remind you of all the times Wooyoung or San would do it to you, making your eyes sting even more than before.

“But why would they hide from me? I was their friend, they said I was one of them. How could they lie to me?”

“I am sure they had their reasons. You likely weren’t that close to them back then.”

As your gaze meets Jisung's, a profound realisation settles within you. In order for him to truly grasp the gravity of the situation and provide the support you need; you understand that it is necessary to lay bare the entirety of your journey. With a resolute breath, you begin recounting everything, from the very first moment you crossed paths with them to the heart-wrenching instant when they departed from your life. Every memory, every cherished moment, to the painful goodbye.

It all began in the middle of your Senior year in high school.

“Okay, class please pay attention we have a new student.” Your homeroom teacher announces, yet you pay zero interest to the familiar lady talking at the front of the classroom, simply continuing to draw in the sketch book you brought from home.

Immersed in the classroom setting, you find peace and concentration with a single wired headphone nestled in your ear. As the sounds of commotion and chatter from your surroundings gradually fade away, your attention becomes laser-focused on the small details of your immediate environment. The rhythmic strokes of your pencil on paper create a soothing melody, harmonising with the gentle hum of music seeping into your left ear, creating a personalised soundtrack to your inner world.

Positioned near the back of the classroom, you find yourself beside an open window, inviting the outside world to merge with you. The autumn breeze delicately sweeps through the window, gracefully brushing against your skin and delicately tousling your hair. The serene atmosphere in the air instils a deep sense of tranquillity, infusing your being with an irrefutable sense of ease and contentment.

Momentarily shifting your gaze outside, you are captivated by the sight before you. The warm wind, with its tender touch, continues to playfully tickle your face as if inviting you to fully embrace the present moment. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with the crisp and refreshing scent of fall, a refreshing reminder of the beauty and change that accompanies this season.

“Could I sit here, please?” a soft voice speaks out from your right, if you were even an inch to the left, you would have not heard the boy, who seems to be looking at the chair on which your bag resides. Locking your gaze upon the boy standing before you, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you, and you mentally berate yourself for your sluggishness in comprehending his inquiry. A rush of frustration washes over you as you silently curse your own slowness, your mind now grasping the meaning behind his words. With a mere nod, you hastily seize the bag lying on the nearby surface and hastily tuck it away beneath your own chair, your movements reflecting your urgency. Turning your attention back to your sketchbook, you purposefully avoid glancing at the boy who wordlessly settles into the seat beside you.

Despite the absence of spoken words, you sense an adamant intensity radiating from the boy to your left. Internally, you let out a groan, fully aware that you must address this unfamiliar stranger and request that he mind his business. Tentatively, you direct your gaze towards him, annoyed you have to speak despite, yet before you can utter a single syllable, you are captivated by the sight that unfolds before you.

The boy's face beams with an adorable smile that engulfs his entire face, rendering you momentarily speechless. This unexpected display of pure charm effectively silences your intended retort, leaving your lips tightly sealed.

“I like your drawing.” His voice is incredibly soft and serene, yet the smile on his face speaks thousands of more words. The boy's unexpected compliment catches you off guard, causing a rush of warmth to surge through your cheeks, the telltale sign of an invading blush spreading down your neck. Your expression betrays a mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as you struggle to process this unfamiliar gesture of kindness. In that brief moment, you find yourself momentarily taken aback, incredulous that such a genuinely kind individual exists within the confines of this school.

Observing the boy attentively, you notice a complete lack of any hint of teasing or mockery behind his eyes, further deepening your astonishment. A flicker of uncertainty twinkles within you as you realise that he is carefully examining the paper before you, his gaze fixated on the meticulously crafted sketch of the mesmerising person you encountered during your morning journey to the classroom. A momentary sense of insecurity flits through your mind, as you worry that he will spot every small detail and flaw etched within the artwork. Left momentarily speechless, you can only offer another nod in response, silently conveying your gratitude without the need for words. Exhaustion from the past few days weighs heavily upon you, especially the funeral, leaves you unable to form words. You aren’t sure if it’s from the grief or the exhaustion.

Returning your focus to the sanctuary of your sketchbook, you resume the gentle strokes of your pencil upon the textured paper, desperately trying to capture and preserve the exact essence of the enigmatic person you encountered earlier. Each deliberate movement of your hand serves as an attempt to etch their features into your memory, ensuring that no captivating detail eludes your artistic rendition.

“I’m, uh… Hwa, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy called ‘Hwa’ speaks out, his voice is still quiet and you’re somewhat glad that he’s so soft-spoken, not wanting to deal with loud and obnoxious people right now. Once more, your eyes drift towards the right, where the boy sits with an endearing smile that effortlessly melts a fragment of your heart. Despite the warmth elicited by his expression, you find yourself limited to another nod as your sole means of communication. This time, your gesture conveys a silent acknowledgement, silently reciprocating his unspoken sentiment of "nice to meet you too." Without delay, you pivot back to your artwork, realising that this marks the third time you have redirected your attention in the span of a mere five minutes.

Hwa, perceptive in nature, detects your unwillingness to engage in conversation and graciously accepts your silent response. His smile remains untouched as he shifts his focus towards the front of the classroom, where your teacher begins recounting events from your weekend. While he respects your preference for silence, a sense of curiosity lingers within him, compelling him to wonder why someone as captivatingly beautiful as you would choose to remain in the shadows of social isolation.

From that crucial moment onward, it became apparent that Hwa had undertaken some sort of personal mission to forge a friendship with you. Each morning, he would approach you, eager to share anecdotes about his day, all about his close circle of seven friends, and his positive experiences in the new school. Puzzled by his unwavering interest in your life, you couldn't fathom why he found you intriguing, and it began to grate on your nerves. Despite your initial annoyance, you gradually learned that he had recently relocated from his father's home and was now residing with his mother, who he seems to prefer much more than his old man. He would go on and on about how his father was a horrible man, someone who he is very glad to not have in his life. From this information, you find yourself relating to Hwa and you almost feel grateful for his honesty and for the way he trusts you to relay this information.

As days turned into weeks, then months, Hwa's relentless efforts to elicit conversation and draw you out of your shell continued persistently. Initially, his persistence irritated you, but over time, his endearing gestures and genuinely kind manner began to chip away at your defences. Though your interactions remained devoid of spoken words, you found yourself gradually warming up to him, unable to resist the charm of his sweet antics. Each day, you maintained your steadfast silence, wordlessly lending an ear to his stories and offering the occasional nod to assure him of your attentive presence.

Hwa, driven by an unquenchable desire to hear your voice and witness your active participation in conversations, incessantly peppered you with questions. He longed for the day when your voice would join him in harmonious dialogue, surpassing the limitations of mere nods and smiles.

On a particular day, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon as you make your way home from school, the hour growing later than usual. A detour had become necessary as you sought out one of your teachers, embarking on a conversation regarding an assignment that you had fallen behind on. This particular instructor, well-informed about your personal home situation, swiftly understood the situation and granted you some much-needed leeway, even extending the offer of utilising an empty classroom for writing, while she occupied herself with grading tests. This teacher you trusted fully, her being the only person you speak with verbally. She understands why you are fewer with your words, not prying you ever. Grateful for the understanding and opportunity, you had seized the chance to make much-needed progress on your assignment.

As you traverse the familiar path home, the ambient noise of your surroundings blends with the music resonating through your headphones, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. Engrossed in your auditory world, a distant voice manages to penetrate the barrier, capturing your attention. Swiftly turning your head, you catch sight of Hwa, jogging towards you with an infectious smile illuminating his face. The sun, in its gradual inclination, casts a warm glow upon his features, accentuating his sincere enthusiasm as he closes the distance between you.

“___.” He yells, excited to see you outside of school. When he reaches you, he is panting slightly and you realise he must have sprinted pretty far to catch up with you. Giving him a confused look, you wonder why he is near this area, never have seen him come this way before. Luckily, after months, Hwa has become accustomed to your familiar actions and wordless antics, being able to recognise what your different movements and expressions indicate. Your feelings for the man have developed immensely and you find yourself becoming extremely fond of the guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that the more you get to know him, the more you realise how handsome he is.

“What are you doing here?” Hwa questions, walking next to you as you continue to head towards your house.

“Going home.” You mutter your voice nothing above a whisper, you are shocked yourself by the words coming out of your mouth. You suddenly wonder why it is that you can suddenly speak freely around Hwa.

Immediately, Hwa’s eyes open hugely upon hearing you talk for the first time, he stops walking next to you, his mouth hanging wide open widely. Looking back at him, you giggle at his dramatic reaction, before speaking again.

“What?’’ You say, your body turning fully towards him, walking backwards, and scanning over his every reaction.

Quickly, the male bounds towards you, the smile resuming as he makes his way to you, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“So, what did I do to deserve the ___ to finally speak to me,” Hwa asks, his voice giddy as he skips next to you.

“I don’t know, I feel safe around you...” You admit, trailing off and becoming slightly insecure about the way your voice sounds. Hwa seems to notice the turmoil of thoughts running through your head and instantly pauses your walking by grabbing your hand lightly, pulling you to look up at his warm eyes.

“You have a nice voice, please keep on speaking.” His voice is soft and peaceful, like usual, but at this moment, it sounds like music to your ears. Feeling your cheeks getting warm, you turn to look away, continuing your walk home. The both of you turn back to moving forwards and you realise you didn’t reciprocate the question Hwa had asked.

“Why are you here?” You ask, curious as to why Hwa would be in this area, never having seen him before around here.

“Ah, I’m seeing my friends, we are meeting at that abandoned warehouse just around the corner from here. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret hideout.” The male explains a small chuckle leaving his throat as he turns to you to put out his pinkie finger. Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is pointing his pinkie finger at you.

“Pinkie promise that you won’t tell anyone.” For a moment he looks incredibly serious, and you wonder as to why he is so stern about the hideout of his friends. It makes you feel soft that here, an eighteen-year-old boy is so seriously making you pinkie promise something. The innocence of the action has you smiling widely, your heart melting.

“Okay, okay.” You reluctantly say, linking your pinkie with his, the both of you letting out gentle laughs. It is quiet for a while as the two of you continue on your way to your separate destinations when Hwa suddenly asks you a question.

“Would you perhaps like to come with me?” The tall male asks, hoping to spend some time with you outside of school, especially since now you are finally fully conversing with him.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you worry as to what would happen if you don’t show up on time home, worrying as to how your father would react. However, you realise tonight he should be out with some of his friends, drinking and knowing he will be out until the early hours of the morning. Today, it seems as if luck is in your favour. Not having any friends, it seems somewhat beautiful that Hwa invited you along to hang out with his friend group. From what you have heard from him, the group is very close and doesn’t usually spend time with outsiders. Yet at the same time, you have heard about how kind and fun they are, which makes it extremely easy to decide.

“I’d love that.”

So, you met the rest of the boys, and it was almost alien how quickly you hit it off with all of them.

“So, you must be the pretty girl who never speaks.” A cute boy with light purple hair speaks out and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you realise Hwa has talked about you to his friends, even calling you pretty. Feeling your body start to get hot, Hwa places a hand on your shoulder in an effort to let you know that it’s okay and his friend is just teasing.

A jolt of surprise courses through you as your eyes land on a face that feels oddly familiar, instantly triggering a spark of recognition. It dawns on you that this is the very same male figure you had been sketching on the day you first encountered Hwa. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as the realisation hits home, leaving you acutely aware that Hwa must have noticed you discreetly capturing his friend's portrait. Yet, to your immense relief, Hwa remains tight-lipped about the situation, his mischievous wink the only acknowledgement he offers in response to your stunned expression upon seeing the familiar face.

As you meet each friend individually, a remarkable sense of astonishment washes over you when you realise how effortlessly you connect with the boys. It's as if you're engaging in conversations with Hwa himself, the connection and company flowing naturally between you. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of new acquaintances, you find comfort in only observing their banter, occasionally opting for quiet observation rather than actively participating in the verbal exchange.

Watching them interact and revel in their shared friendship fills you with inexplicable joy, for it is a feeling you had longed for—an authentic sense of belonging among friends. The ease with which you seamlessly fit into their circle surprises you, and it's not ignored by boys either, they immediately grow fond of you. They sense the immediate connection, as if destiny had intended for you to be a part of their lives all along.

This remarkable harmony that you effortlessly slot into makes it a natural progression for the boys to invite you to join them in their hangouts. The invitation comes easily as if it were given that you should be included, reinforcing the notion that you have found a place among them—a group of friends who accept and appreciate you just as you are.

There is a pure glow from each of them, yet you notice the blank, pained expressions and feelings on their faces, and it feels as if you are looking in the mirror and it is as if they can understand and relate deeply to who you are without needing to utter a single word.

Many days after this you find yourself spending more and more time with the group, finding yourself loving each of them the way you have grown to love Hwa. Turning up the music and dancing was your favourite part of your hangouts, watching as they all chanted to songs and moved to the beat. It made you feel some sense of belonging, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Writing and singing to songs was one of the very things you loved most about the hang outs, every time they start a verse having to say the words “fix on”, or finishing it with “passion, young, fever”. The very words starting to feel as if they are engraved in your mind.

One peculiar aspect that strikes you is the fact that none of the boys have ever shared their actual names with you. Instead, they refer to each other solely by their unique and endearing nicknames. Yet, strangely enough, this detail doesn't bother you in the slightest. The absence of birth names becomes inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What truly matters is the profound contentment you feel, having finally discovered a group of individuals with whom you can fully be yourself with.

In their presence, you experience a rare sense of comfort, as if you've known them for a lifetime. Walls crumble, masks fade away, and you can simply exist as your authentic self. The love and acceptance that enters the air create a seemingly unbreakable bond. The absence of formal introductions and conventional names becomes a trivial detail, dwarfed by the depth of connection and genuine affection that binds you together. As your relationships with each of the boys deepened, an unexpected shift occurred within your heart, surpassing the boundaries of familial affection, and evolving into a profound form of liking. You were well aware of the impropriety of harbouring such feelings for all eight of them, understanding that it was highly unlikely any of them reciprocated those same emotions. Yet, you couldn't help but acknowledge that your heart seemed to act independently, beyond the constraints of reason.

What made matters even more complex was the knowledge that two of the boys were nursing shattered hearts, their pain etched deeply upon their souls due to a girl you had never met and who, in all likelihood, you had no chance against. The stories that circulated among the group painted a picture of a messy and agonising heartbreak that had left them both broken in its wake. Despite the overwhelming depth of your feelings for them, you made a conscious decision to suppress your own desires, opting instead to provide solace and support as they navigated their heartache. Every time you witnessed their tears, mourning over the faceless girl who had captivated their hearts, an ache resonated within your own chest. It was an ache born from unrequited emotions, an emotional reminder of the distance that separated you from the love they sought. Nonetheless, you steeled yourself, pushing those yearnings aside, focusing on being the shoulder to lean on, the one who offered unwavering support and understanding during their darkest hours. It was a choice fuelled by selflessness and a desire to ease their suffering, even if it meant struggling with your own unspoken longing.

The warehouse was an unusual sanctuary for you, a place of solitude amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its towering shelves of empty boxes and the faint scent of cardboard, rust and moss, it offered a kind of comfort you couldn't find elsewhere. It was where you escaped to when you needed a break from the world.

Today, you arrived early, finishing school ahead of schedule due to a teacher falling ill. Alone in the vast expanse of the warehouse, you found peace in the quiet, engrossed in the pages of a book. The soft rustling of paper and the distant hum of the outside world being the only noise surrounding you.

As you turned another page, lost in the world of words, a sudden, screeching noise sliced through the calm. Startled, you look up just in time to see the massive metal door at the far end of the warehouse creaking open, a thin beam of sunlight piercing the dim interior.

The sudden blast of light makes you squint, shielding your eyes with one hand as you try to discern who or what had interrupted your solitude. Your heart raced slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution welling within you. The warehouse wasn't a frequented place, and the unexpected visitor had piqued your interest.

Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside, rising from your makeshift reading spot. As your eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, you made out the silhouette of a person framed by the open door.

Recognition washed over you like a gentle wave, replacing your initial unease with a sense of relief and surprise. The person at the door was someone you hadn't expected to see in this unlikely place.

“Oh sorry ___, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Yeo’s voice reaches your ears and you see his cute face pop around the corner as your eyes get used to the sudden flash.

“Tiny is here?” The man you know as Woo follows behind Yeo with a wide smile on his face.

“What are you doing here so early?” He jumps up to you and lays on the couch, nuzzling his head onto your lap, the action sending a rush of butterflies into your body.

“I finished early, sorry for not letting you guys know I was coming.” You apologise, feeling bashful for intruding in their personal space without their knowledge.

“It’s okay, you are always welcome here.” Yeo smiles as he says quietly and makes his way over to you and Woo on the couch.

Smiling back at him, you observe as he pushes Woo’s legs to the side before sitting at the other end of the couch.

“So what are you doing here?” Woo asked from underneath you.

“Oh I just needed some peace to read my book, this is the only place I actually feel calm.”

“I also have that.” Yeo exclaims, a bigger smile on his face, “when we are here it feels like the outside world doesn’t even matter.”

“Exactly.” You smile at him, his relatable statement causing your chest to swell for some odd reason.

“I’m going to sleep, school was far too much today.” Woo's announcement about his exhaustion draws a soft giggle from you, a gentle sound that fills the room with a sense of warmth. He snuggles further into your lap, seeking comfort after a long day. His actions create an intimate moment that's both endearing and heartwarming.

The soft giggle that escapes your throat is like music to the ears of the two men beside you.

“Where do you guys go to school? I’ve never seen you at mine.”

“Oh we go to the one just around the corner, only Hwa goes to your school.”

“I see.”

Gazing down at Woo nestled in your lap, a fond smile graces your lips. Your feelings for him have also grown deep, and his flirtatious nature has become both endearing and exhilarating, adding a touch of excitement to your interactions. His playful personality has woven a unique bond between you, one that's filled with affection and a sense of familiarity.

With a tender touch, you reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from Woo's face, your fingers gentle and caring. The small gesture elicits a soft grin from him, a silent acknowledgment that your action made him feel delighted.

Turning your attention to Yeo, you find yourself captivated by the subtle details that make him unique. His gaze, focused on the two of you together, holds a certain warmth and depth.

Yeo and yourself engage in a quiet conversation, and you find yourself relishing this rare opportunity to connect with him on a personal level. In the larger group, he often keeps to himself, a quiet presence in the midst of the lively discussions. It's exciting to finally have a one-on-one conversation with him, a chance to peel back the layers and get to know the person behind the reserved exterior.

The hour or so that you spend chatting is a revelation. You discover a shared interest in books, a passion that he's clearly enthusiastic about. Yeo's eyes light up as he shares recommendations from his personal reading choices, and you're captivated by the depth of his knowledge and his love for literature.

As the conversation flows, you delve into the world of books, exchanging thoughts on favourite authors, genres, and memorable reads. The exchange of recommendations feels like a treasure trove of new adventures waiting to be explored. It's a conversation that transcends the boundaries of the room and opens a door to a shared passion that you both cherish. In this moment you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu, as if you have been in this position before, or have yet to be in this situation.

During this intimate moment, you realise that beneath Yeo's quiet demeanour lies a wealth of knowledge and a genuine enthusiasm for the things he loves. The connection you share through your shared interest in books is a testament to the richness of human connection and the beauty of discovering common ground with someone you might not have expected. It's a reminder that there's always more to uncover about the people around you, and that even the quietest among us can hold hidden depths waiting to be explored.

Immersed in the creative haven of your bedroom, you find comfort in the rhythmic strokes of your pencil against the textured paper. For the past week, you have poured your heart and soul into a meticulously crafted drawing of your eight friends, their features coming to life with each delicate line and shading. It has become your labour of love, a tribute to the cherished connections you've formed with each of them. As melodic tunes echo through the room from a speaker perched on your desk, the dulcet melodies provide a gentle backdrop to your artistic activities. The song, suggested by Woo himself, serves as a bridge, connecting your creative energy with the vibrations of the soundscape. You find yourself instinctively bobbing your head in time to the rhythm, your body swaying with harmony.

However, the tranquillity is abruptly shattered as the front door slams shut, the unexpected noise jolting you from your reverie. Your heart skips a beat, a surge of both dismay and fear coursing through your veins. The unmistakable thudding of footsteps echoes up the stairs, sending a shiver down your spine. It is your father's arrival, a presence that always harbours an air of tension and unpredictability.

With nimble urgency, you reach over to the speaker and swiftly silence the music, plunging the room into a weighted silence. The absence of melodies only amplifies the unease that lingers in the air, adding an oppressive weight to the atmosphere. Your sanctuary, once filled with the joyous sounds of music, is now stifled by the solemn hush that envelops it.

A palpable tension fills the room as you desperately hope for a stroke of luck, silently pleading for your father to bypass your closed door, his footsteps continuing down the hall to his own room. In the stillness of the moment, you remain frozen, your very breath restrained in anticipation.

But, as fate would have it, luck turns a deaf ear to your silent wishes. The door creaks open, swinging inward with a reluctant motion, revealing the formidable figure of your father standing on the threshold. His presence alone fills the room with an air of trepidation, his imposing stature and crossed arms creating an impenetrable barrier that demands attention.

Struggling to maintain his balance, you notice the slight wobble in his stance, a sign of the tumultuous emotions that brew within him. His arms remain tightly folded over his chest; a physical shield that matches the sternness etched onto his face. The weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding, seems to pierce through the silence, weighing heavily upon the room and those within it. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety coalesces within you, causing your heart to race in your chest. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as if any attempt at conversation might trigger an unexpected tempest. You hold your breath, awaiting the next move, your entire being poised on a precipice of hesitation.

“What are you doing?” He questions, his voice slurred and unclear.

“Drawing,” With a sense of urgency, you respond hastily, your words chosen carefully to minimise any potential escalation. The desire to avoid the volatile whirlwind of his unpredictable moods propels you to seek a rapid conclusion to the interaction, hoping that your brief responses will prevent the conversation from lingering any longer than necessary. The burdensome weight of the situation and the fatigue that grips your spirit urge you to retreat, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous presence of your father. You are caught off guard by your father's presence and the disconcerting aura surrounding him, you find yourself yearning for a swift end to the interaction. Your own emotions, a mix of weariness and apprehension, compel you to seek an expedited resolution. The weight of his unpredictable and volatile emotions, amplified by the telltale signs of his consumption of alcohol, looms heavily in the room, intensifying your desire to disengage from the conversation.

“When are your exams?” The man asks as he stumbles into your room, clearly fumbling around on his feet, unable to find balance on his feet, very clearly a side effect of the heavy consumption of alcohol.

“Next month.”

A wave of unease washes over you as your father's brow furrows once more, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. The subtle creases on his forehead deepen, forming a stark contrast against the lines of tension etched upon his face. At that moment, your heart sinks, a heavy weight settling in the pit of your stomach. The intensity of his displeasure, evident in the way his features contort, sends a surge of apprehension through your veins. Your own emotions waver on a cliff, poised between a desire to appease and a need to protect yourself from the potential fallout. As his annoyance penetrates the room, you brace yourself for what may come next, keenly aware of the precarious nature of your current situation.

“Then you should be studying.” He booms, his voice echoing off the walls of your small bedroom.

“I was going to study when I finish this.”

“Do not back talk to me.” The sound of your father's voice reverberates through the room, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Avoiding direct eye contact, you shift your gaze downwards, unable to bear the intensity of his drunken rage. The urge to roll your eyes at his exaggerated and unjustified behaviour becomes nearly irresistible, as you struggle to comprehend why he is directing his anger at you for such a trivial matter. A sense of exasperation builds within you, fuelled by the stark contrast between the magnitude of his reaction and the insignificance of the situation at hand. The weight of his misplaced frustration leaves you bewildered, questioning the logic behind his anger. It feels like an unwarranted attack on your being, leaving you grappling with a mix of resentment and confusion. Yet, mindful of the volatile nature of the situation, you tamp down your instinctive response. Instead, you silently navigate the treacherous waters, attempting to maintain composure and seeking a swift resolution to this senseless confrontation.

“I’m sorry.” In a desperate attempt to defuse the escalating tension, you respond, your words laced with a mix of pleading and a longing for tranquillity. Your desire to return to the serene solace of your artistic endeavours intensifies, fuelling your efforts to restore a sense of calm. However, your heart lurches upward, lodging itself in your throat, as your father takes a step closer, intruding upon your personal space. A shiver snakes its way down your spine as his hand reaches out, settling heavily on the back of your neck. The weight of his touch feels oppressive, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Fear dances within your veins, mingling with a sense of vulnerability. The boundaries that should protect you have been violated, leaving you acutely aware of your powerlessness at this moment. Your instinctive longing for escape intensifies, urging you to seek refuge from this dangerous environment and the touch that sends chills down your spine.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” Your father's whispered words cut through the air, a chilling undertone accompanying them, as his nails dig into the delicate skin of your neck. The sharp pain shoots through your body, an unwelcome reminder of the power imbalance in this unsettling encounter. Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a mixture of pain and anxiety churns within your chest, constricting your throat. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, intensifying the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that envelopes you. The weight of his grip and the raw discomfort that courses through your body serves as a stark reminder of the control he applies, amplifying the helplessness that grips your being. You yearn for release from this distressing moment, desperately seeking an escape from his oppressive presence and the escalating pain that continues to coil around you.

A lump forms in your throat, constricting your voice as you manage to summon a weak response, uttering a subdued, "Yes, Dad." The weight of fear and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, making it difficult to find the strength to speak or express yourself fully.

The knowledge of past experiences with your father looms in your mind, serving as a reminder of the potential consequences that could follow even the slightest provocation. The disparity between the magnitude of his reaction and the seemingly insignificant trigger leaves you confused, the fear of setting off his anger further stifling your genuine thoughts and feelings. The urge to voice your true thoughts, to stand up for yourself, simmers within, but the fear that accompanies it serves as a heavy muzzle, silencing the words you long to say. In this suffocating atmosphere, you decide to bite your tongue, for now, choosing self-preservation over the risk of inciting his explosive rage.

“What is this shit?” Your father's voice cuts through the air with a biting edge, his disdain is evident as he questions the worth of your drawing. His harsh gaze fixated upon the paper on your desk, the discarded pencil serving as a silent witness to his disapproval.

“Just something I’m working on.” In an attempt to diffuse the situation, you reply with a hint of defensiveness, your words laced with an eagerness for him to cease his interrogation and retreat from your sanctuary. The desperate plea for him to leave you be, to preserve the sanctity of your safe space, hangs heavily in the air between you.

As he snatches the sketchbook from the desk, your nerves intensify, your pulse quickening as his scrutinising eyes peruse the paper. The tension in the room becomes almost suffocating, amplifying your anxiety to new heights.

“Who is this?” His bitter and slurred voice reverberates, the words barely coherent.

Fear floods your veins, and knowing the truth would lead to misunderstanding and potential danger. Hastily, you weave a web of lies, your words rushed and unsteady, hoping to divert his attention away from the genuine connection you share with the boys.

The man's anger escalates, his words morphing into a piercing yell that reverberates within the confines of the room. The intensity of his outburst pierces your ears, each syllable hammering into your consciousness. The weight of his disdain for your artistic talent lands heavily upon your heart, his belittlement serving as a painful reminder of the limitations he imposes upon your aspirations.

Panic grips you as your father's hand inches closer to the paper, and a sense of dread fills every fibre of your being as you realise his malicious intentions. Frantically, you reach out in a futile attempt to stop him, but your efforts prove futile as he ruthlessly rips the page from the book, tearing it down the middle. Tears well up in your eyes as a profound sense of disappointment and pain courses through your body, your hard work treated with callous disregard, tossed aside as if it were nothing. With a surge of determination, you rise from your chair, driven by an instinct to protect what remains of your creation. However, your resistance is met with ruthless force as your father forcefully pushes your body, causing you to crash onto the floor, the impact jolting through your hip and radiating pain throughout your entire being. The anguish of your shattered artwork pales in comparison to the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon you at this moment.

As you lie on the floor, a broken mess of tears and anguish, your father's rage reaches new heights. He towers over you, his face contorted with anger, grabbing the back of your head painfully once again. The proximity of his enraged face leaves you trembling, his piercing scream reverberating through your ears, assaulting your senses with an intensity that feels unbearable. In this horrifying moment, you are forced to confront the painful reality of his control, the overwhelming weight of his anger eclipsing any semblance of safety or peace.

“If I ever see you sketching again, I will not be as forgiving.” Spit flies from your father’s mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol, making you even more disgusted. Tears fall freely from your eyes as you try to maintain your composure, so as to not enrage the man even further. Your father continues his words, “Clean this mess up. I’m going to sleep.”

With an abrupt exit, the man stumbles out of your room, his unsteady footsteps resounding on the wooden floor, echoing the turmoil that lingers in his wake. You can only surmise that he retreats to his own bedroom, likely collapsing onto the bed in a drunken slumber. The abruptness of his departure offers a temporary respite, but the emotional scars and residual fear remain, haunting the air within your room. Weeping silently, your trembling hands pressed against your face, you struggle to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threaten to overcome you. In the midst of your despair, you survey the scattered remnants of your destroyed drawing, yearning for a miracle that would restore it to its former glory. Each torn piece becomes a painful reminder of the shattered gift intended for your only friends.

With shaky resolve, you begin the arduous task of collecting the fragmented remnants, moving them from the floor to the bin next to your desk. Each movement brings fresh waves of tears, your heart aching at the irreparable loss of the heartfelt gesture. The realisation that the memento meant to convey your appreciation and friendship now lies in ruins only amplifies your sense of devastation. As you meticulously dispose of the torn pieces, your tears fall even harder, tracing a sorrowful path down your cheeks. The weight of the ruined gift presses upon your soul, a profound sense of loss mingling with the lingering pain of the recent encounter. In this moment of vulnerability, you find solace in your tears, allowing yourself to grieve the destruction of your artistic expression and the shattered connection it represented.

As the silence envelops the house, you breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the man who instils such terror within you is finally lost in the depths of sleep. Drawing strength back into your trembling legs, you hastily slip on your shoes, a desperate urgency compelling you to escape the confines of the place you dread most.

Stealthily, you navigate the familiar hallways, your movements shrouded in silence, driven by an intense need to distance yourself from the haunting presence that lingers within those walls. The weight of your fear propels you forward, guiding your steps towards an uncertain destination.

In your frantic search for solace, you find yourself stumbling upon the empty warehouse, its vast expanse providing a sense of respite and comfort that you yearn for. Though devoid of human presence, you know deep within your soul that the very atmosphere within this cavernous space will envelop you, granting a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you.

Stepping into the familiar warehouse, the sound of the large metal doors scraping against the concrete floor reverberates through the cavernous space, creating a symphony of echoes that dance along the walls. The rhythmic noise seems to announce your entrance as if beckoning invisible spectators to witness your raw vulnerability. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness, the absence of your friends accentuates the solitude that envelops you, amplifying the bittersweet comfort of this cherished sanctuary.

Staggering towards the worn-out couch, its faded fabric hinting at the countless memories shared upon its cushions, you allow your body to collapse into its familiar embrace. The soft cushions yield beneath your weight, conforming to the contours of your tired form. You lay down sideways, finding comfort in the familiar haven that holds so many cherished moments. The tears flow freely from your eyes, tracing glistening paths down your cheeks, as if the very fabric of the pillow beneath your head absorbs the weight of your sorrow. Every sob that escapes your trembling lips reverberates within the expansive metal room, each one a witness to the depth of your pain. The echoes reverberate through the space, intertwining with the ethereal remnants of laughter and friendship that have painted the walls with a subtle warmth. The traumatic event that has left you bruised and broken resonates within the vastness of the room, its hollowness a haunting backdrop to your vulnerability.

Time becomes a fluid concept as you lose yourself in the catharsis of your tears. The exhaustion weighs upon you like an invisible burden, the weight of the world pressing down upon your weary shoulders. Each sob drains your energy, leaving your eyelids heavy and your body craving a respite from the relentless ache. Gradually, the exhaustion takes hold, its grasp tightening around your consciousness. The drowsiness seeps into every fibre of your being, your mind and body surrendering to the lullaby of weariness. As the golden rays of the setting sun filter through the cracks in the metal walls, casting an ethereal glow upon your tear-stained face, sleep claims you, offering a temporary escape from the harsh realities that haunt your waking hours.

As the coils of sleep begin to loosen their grip on your consciousness, you are jolted awake by the sensation of being gently shaken. Blinking groggily, you try to push away from the source of the disturbance, a low groan escaping your lips. To your surprise, the sound is met with a soft chuckle, a deep voice calling your name with tenderness. A hand comes to rest on your head, its touch gentle and soothing, patting you in a comforting rhythm.

Startled, your heart skips a beat, your body tensing at the unexpected touch. The fear of encountering your father floods your mind, sending waves of anxiety coursing through your veins. In a swift motion, you sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, your eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the warehouse. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, and when it does, you realise that you are still in the familiar confines of the warehouse, resting on the worn-out couch. The realisation washes over you, relief mingling with lingering fearfulness.

Peering around, you notice that darkness has descended upon the space, replacing the golden hues of the setting sun with a blanket of shadow. It dawns on you that you must have been asleep for several hours, the passage of time slipping by unnoticed as fatigue overcomes you. Your gaze then falls upon the source of your awakening, the boy known as 'Yu,' crouched on the floor before the couch. His soft grin illuminates his features, his dishevelled brown hair partially hiding his eyes, his cheeks adorned with a gentle blush.

“Are you okay? What are you doing sleeping here?” Yu asks, looking you tenderly in your eyes, causing your heart to flip in circles.

“I needed to get away from some stuff.” You answer truthfully, not being able to find the strength to lie to the boy in front of you.

As Yu's concerned gaze meets yours, the worry etched on his face, the smile that had adorned his features fades away. The depth of your distress is evident to him, and he can sense the heaviness that weighs upon your weary soul. It's as if he can see through the facade you wear, peering into the depths of your eyes to witness the pain and exhaustion that lies within.

At this moment, any trace of anger or frustration that had accompanied him to the warehouse dissipates entirely, replaced by a newfound tenderness and empathy. He is drawn to you, compelled to offer comfort and relief in the face of your evident struggle. Moving closer, his larger hand finds its way to rest gently atop yours, a gesture that sends a cascade of butterflies fluttering within your stomach. The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin, offering a respite from the coldness that had entered the warehouse. It's a simple act, but it carries a profound weight, communicating a silent message of support and understanding. In this shared moment of vulnerability, you feel a glimmer of hope and connection, as if a lifeline has been extended to you in the midst of your despair.

“What happened, Tiny?”

The nickname was bestowed upon you by the boys when you first joined their group, a playful teasing inspired by the absolute height difference between you and Yu. It quickly became a term of endearment that all eight adopted, using it to address you with affectionate familiarity. However, at this moment, as Yu's tenderness envelopes you, the meaning behind the nickname takes on a new layer of complexity, evoking emotions that elude your grasp. It's an unfamiliar sensation for Yu to display such genuine care towards you, considering his infatuation with another girl that has kept him at a distance. Yet, at this moment, you can't help but yearn for his tender presence to be a constant, for him to act as if no other girl holds his attention. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, torn between the desire to keep this fragile connection intact and the fear of revealing the recent traumatic events that unfolded hours ago, uncertain of how Yu would react.

Your attention shifts to where your hands meet, and your heart lurches at the sight of gashes and blood staining Yu's knuckles. Concern overtakes you, the worry carved upon your features as you contemplate the cause of his injuries. Questions buzz in your mind, begging to be asked, but the fear of intruding upon his personal struggles holds you back. The realisation that pain has marked his hands, mirroring the pain that has scarred your own being, intensifies your sense of worry and empathy.

In this delicate moment, a silent exchange of emotions hangs in the air, unspoken words lingering between you. The weight of unspoken truths and shared vulnerabilities creates a bond that is both fragile and powerful, leaving you uncertain of what course of action to take next.

“What happened to your hand?” you inquire, pulling his hand into your lap, and observing the wounds on his pretty hands.

Peering up at Yu, concern etched across your features, his heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It's a feeling he struggles to decipher, a gentle tug that seems to pull at the depths of his being. His eyes lock with yours, and at that moment, time seems to stand still as he finds himself captivated by the curiosity and vulnerability reflected in your gaze. There's a tenderness in Yu's eyes, an almost loving quality as he studies your appearance. His gaze lingers on your swollen eyes, evidence of the tears you've shed and the burden you've carried. The worry radiates from him, manifesting as a protective instinct that seeks to shield you from further pain. It's a sentiment that surprises even him, the depth of his concern far surpassing the bounds of friendship.

In this silent exchange, a subtle shift occurs within Yu, as if the barriers he had carefully constructed around his emotions begin to crumble. The walls he had built to guard his heart start to crack, allowing a glimmer of something deeper to emerge. Though he may not fully understand the extent of his own feelings, the way his gaze lingers on you with tenderness and compassion speaks volumes.

In this moment, a connection forms, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. It's as if a silent agreement is forged, promising support and comfort amidst the challenges you both face. The weight of unspoken words and shared empathy fills the space between you, laying the foundation for something more profound and transformative.

“Have you been crying?” His voice is gentle and calming, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable by the inquiry, wishing for you to answer.

“Why is your hand hurt?” you retort, his hand still resting in your lap, you trying to wipe away stray pieces of dirt in the cuts. Your hand lingers atop Yu's, a gentle touch that he usually guards against, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he allows you to maintain the contact. It's a rare occurrence for him to let others freely touch him, his personal boundaries carefully shielded. Yet, at this moment, he feels a sense of comfort and acceptance in your touch, as if a barrier he didn't know existed has been effortlessly breached.

The surprise intensifies as he realises that he enjoys the sensation of your hand resting upon his, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of connection that he hadn't anticipated. There's a certain serenity in your presence, a quiet assurance that draws him in, inviting him to let down his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable. His gaze remains fixated on you, his attention solely focused on your interaction. The world around him seems to fade into the background as he becomes absorbed in this shared moment, his own emotions swirling within. It's unfamiliar territory, one he hadn't expected to find himself in, yet he can't deny the pull that you exert upon him, the magnetic force of your presence.

In this newfound vulnerability, Yu begins to question his own reservations and the walls he has built around himself. Your touch, your unwavering attention, opens up a space where he can explore and discover a different side of himself, one that embraces connection and allows himself to be seen. Hands remaining touching, a silent understanding passes between you, unspoken words painting the canvas of this intimate moment. The depth of your connection holds the promise of something extraordinary, an exploration of emotions and possibilities that neither of you could have foreseen.

“I asked first.” Yu teases, trying to lift the mood, wanting to see the smile he has grown to adore appear on your features.

“I don’t want to bother you.” You reply, your voice shaky and quiet, answering truthfully, not sure if he would be able to handle the information you so desperately need to disclose to someone.

“You never bother me,” As Yu contemplates his next move, a surge of courage courses through him. Without hesitation, he uses the hand that rests in your lap, gently interlocking his fingers with yours. He takes care to avoid smudging his dried blood on you or your clothes, a subtle gesture of consideration that doesn't go unnoticed.

The unexpected act of affection catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. Heat rises to your cheeks, a blush betraying the fluttering emotions that swirl within you. You meet Yu's gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that resonates deeply. A small smile graces his lips, a wordless reassurance that speaks volumes. In this simple gesture, he communicates a willingness to bridge the gap between you, to traverse the uncertain territory of shared vulnerability. It's a brave step forward, an offering of trust and a declaration of his sudden growing feelings.

“It’s okay, ___.” Yu whispers, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as his words become more serious, “You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you decide maybe it is okay to confide in one person.

“It’s my dad.” You admit, looking down at the hand that Yu has gripped gently in his own, his fingers wrapped around your smaller hand. Yu gives you a puzzled look, not sure what your father could have done to make you so upset. Noticing his confused expression, you continue speaking, “It is dumb, but I was working on this drawing, and he came in drunk out of his mind and started yelling at me for not studying,”

“Hold on, he was drunk?” Yu questions, starting to feel anger build up in his body.

“Yeah, but when is he not.” You attempt to joke, yet the look on Yu’s face doesn’t look amused, causing you to sigh gently, “he ripped up the drawing in front of my face and said if he ever sees me drawing again, he ‘won’t be as forgiving’, whatever that means,” you mumble, the weight of vulnerability settling upon you, you become highly aware of the depth of the information you have just shared.

A sense of unease and apprehension begins to gnaw at your insides, uncertain of how Yu will react to this newfound revelation. The silence that follows is deafening, and you can't help but lift your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes.

What you see takes you by surprise, an expression of absolute disbelief etched across Yu's features. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find the words to respond. The moment hangs suspended in time, the tension thickening the air between you. Questions swirl in your mind, uncertainty threatening to unravel the fragile connection that has been forged. Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over the vulnerability you have exposed. You find yourself questioning the wisdom of sharing such intimate feelings, fearing the potential repercussions it may have on your friendship. In this charged moment, the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for Yu's reaction. The uncertainty weighs heavily upon you, your heart pounding in your chest as you anxiously await his response.

Preparing to question the impact of your confession on Yu, your words catch in your throat, suspended by the sudden movement of his embrace. In a swift motion, he pulls you towards him, enveloping your body in a tight hug that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your head is gently guided to rest in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. His hand finds its place on the back of your head, his fingers tenderly stroking your hair with a soothing rhythm. Yu's sensitivity to your tense form prompts a fleeting hesitation within him, a flicker of uncertainty about having crossed a boundary or making you uncomfortable. But when he feels your entire body relax and melt into his embrace, a surge of emotions courses through him. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, swelling with a feeling akin to absolute adoration. It's a moment of defencelessness and connection that surpasses words, forging a bond between you that almost feels unbreakable.

In response to his comforting presence, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace. Nestling into the curve of his neck, you revel in the sensation of being held, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you in the present moment. Yu adjusts his position, rising to sit on his knees and drawing himself even closer to your body. Your chests align, rising and falling in synchrony, as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens around you, afraid that you might vanish from his embrace.

In this intimate cocoon, it becomes clear that you weren't the only one in need of a hug. The mutual longing for comfort and reassurance binds you together, transcending the complexities of your individual experiences. In this tender moment of shared vulnerability, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence, the solace of a genuine connection, and the promise of healing.

Basking in the comfort of Yu's embrace, time seems to suspend, creating a sanctuary where worries and troubles momentarily fade away. However, your heart sinks when you feel him slowly pull away, a pang of disappointment seeping through your being. Yet, his hand continues to stroke the back of your head, his touch lingering, serving as a reminder of the tenderness you experienced.

Meeting his gaze, locking eyes with him, and at that moment, the connection between you deepens. It's as if the world around you dims, leaving only the intensity of his brown eyes that seem to hold a universe of emotions. Every fibre of your being is drawn to him, falling deeper into a feeling you've been trying to resist.

A hint of reluctance lingers in Yu's actions as he clears his throat, a signal that the intimate moment must come to an end. He slowly removes himself from your embrace, settling back into his previous position. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on you, unyielding and intense, as if he's afraid to look away, afraid to lose the connection that has formed. You find yourself lost in his gaze, a swirl of feelings and unspoken words passing between you. There's a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that something profound has transpired between you. It's a delicate dance of emotions, a dance that neither of you can fully comprehend but are unwilling to let go.

In this halted moment, the air crackles with anticipation, as if the next words spoken could alter the course of your relationship forever. The intensity in Yu's eyes speaks volumes, a testament to the depth of the bond that has formed between you.

“If something like this happens again, please let me know,” Yu says, breaking the silence, his voice serious, needing to protect you from whatever your father could possibly do in the future.

A meek smile graces your lips, an expression of gratitude that conveys more than words ever could. Deep within, you carry the weight of unspoken pain and secrets, understanding that some experiences are difficult to share, especially the ones involving your father. You appreciate Yu's offer of support, even though you know you can't burden him with the full extent of what you've endured.

In this moment of silent acknowledgement, you convey a deep sense of gratitude for his presence, for the solace he has unknowingly offered. It's a silent understanding that goes beyond words, a recognition of the unspoken connection between you. Despite the barriers that may exist, you find solace in knowing that there is someone who cares, someone willing to extend a helping hand.

“Now your turn.” You exclaim, causing Yu to give you a confused look, “Your hand. What happened?”

Yu lets out a sound of realisation, his expression matching it. Looking down at the gashes in his hands, Yu makes an expression similar to embarrassment.

“I got in a fight,” Yu explains, his cheeks heating up, realising you might be disappointed in him.

“Another? Why now?” You question, your voice is soft and caring, making him realise you aren’t upset at him, just worried, making his heart warm slightly, despite the war and heartbreak going throughout his entire body.

“The girl that Yeo and I used to like… she has said some stuff, some stuff that isn’t true. It’s tearing us apart, all of us.” Yu’s voice is shaky, and you can tell he is deeply affected by the circumstances.

Immediately, your interest is piqued, and concern envelops your being, you can't help but wonder what could have been said by the girl to have such a profound impact on Yu and the entire group. The realisation that her words have caused a collective breakdown weighs heavily on your mind, triggering a surge of curiosity and a deeper level of concern. Thoughts whirl through your head, seeking answers and understanding. What could she have revealed that shattered their spirits? What truths or revelations could have struck a chord so deeply? You can't help but ponder the significance of her words and the implications they hold for your friends and their emotional well-being.

In the midst of your thoughts, a mix of emotions floods your being, concern, empathy, and a deep desire to alleviate their pain. The bond between you and the group becomes even more heartrending, a reminder of the connection of your lives and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity.

“What did she say?” You question, your hand coming to rest on his like he did earlier.

“She said we laid our hands on her, we hurt her, physically, sexually. But I swear on everything, I have never put my hands on her, on anyone. None of us have, we have only ever acted in self-defence. I don’t know why all of a sudden, she is making up these stories. It is tearing us apart. Every single person believes her, they are coming after us, with their fists. Someone tried to come at Captain and I with a baseball bat, and it’s terrifying us, we don’t know what to do.”

“Wait what?” Your voice trembles with a mixture of shock and disbelief as you contemplate why this girl would suddenly feel the need to falsely accuse the boys you have grown so close to. In the time you've spent with them, you have come to know each of them as kind-hearted individuals, devoid of aggression or abusive tendencies. Your experiences with them have left a deep imprint, and you find it unfathomable to believe that any of them would ever lay a hand on someone, especially a woman.

The weight of this accusation hangs heavily in the air, and you struggle to reconcile the image of your friends with the words that have been spoken. It feels like a betrayal, not just to them but to the bond you have formed, as your faith in their character and integrity is steadfast. The disbelief fuels a surge of protectiveness and a fierce desire to defend them against these baseless accusations.

When Yu raises his gaze to meet yours, the shimmering tears threatening to escape, your heart aches with empathy and compassion. The vulnerability etched across his face mirrors your own inner turmoil, as you share a profound connection and a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. At that moment, your heart breaks for him and for the rest of the group, as you witness the weight of their pain and the unjust burden they must bear.

“I don’t know why this is happening, or why she said it was all of us. Only Yeo and I have spent time with her, she has never even met the boys. Plus, we haven’t seen her in over two months, she said it happened last month. It makes no sense.”

“Yu, if it’s not true then you do not have to worry about anything. It will get sorted, okay? You are innocent.” All you can do is bring the man into your arms once again, this time letting him weep into your shoulder, his body limp against yours. It breaks your heart to see him so vulnerable, so broken because of deadly rumours.

“We will get this sorted, Yu. I promise.”

------

if you asked to be tagged and don't see your name/are not getting sent notifications, there is nothing i am able to do, i am sorry.

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-000 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su @theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329 @formulateez @senpai-of-doom @aaaaajonghooooo @ijwsbdinp @liniiiaa @channiespup @heyitstacy @eightmakesonebraincell @araknoid @itsmeregan @rynmlk @kazuhateez @galaxypox @chermonroe @babyhailey819 @euphoricdeni @wooya1224 @matzbear @h-nji @tunaasan @send-me-places

448 notes · View notes

atinystraynstay · 4 months

Text

The Spins - Hwang Hyunjin

Synopsis: Your best friend, Changbin, decided to throw a party to get all his favorite people together in one room. For you, that means that you're in the same room as Hwang Hyunjin. Han knew all about your little crush on Hyunjin, so it seemed like the best idea. Drinks at a holiday party always sound like a great idea until you have one too many.

Pairing: non-idol! Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

Genre: Angst, a bit of fluff towards the end, college crush

Warnings: contains alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.1k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"Binnie, are you positive this looks okay?" "Y/n, does the lip shade really matter? I know you're trying to get it ruined anyways."

It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head hearing Changbin. You spun in your chair at your vanity, holding your makeup sponge and getting ready to chuck it at Changbin's head. In defense, he picked up your white fluffy pillow, holding it to his face. "Stop now or the pillow gets it!"

You sighed and set down the makeup sponge before turning towards the mirror. You ran your hand through your curled hair a couple of times, trying your best get more volume.

You were both grateful but also annoyed at Changbin for coming up with the idea to throw a holiday party at his off-campus apartment. Who could resist a party before the hours of treacherous studying begin? But you wanted to also come up with an excuse as to not go because you didn't want to run into your crush - Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was best known on campus for his good looks. He was undoubtedly everyone's college crush. You couldn't blame anyone - he was just that damn attractive.

Changbin had become friends with Hyunjin after living in the same dorm freshman year. They were in a first-year suite with two other guys - Christopher Bahng and Han Jisung. The four of them were an unstoppable group, always seen together or attending the latest parties. Their friend group grew the following you when they became friends with Lee Minho, Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix, and Yang Jeongin.

You, on the other hand, first became friends with Changbin during class. You both were an introduction to business seminar, where you quickly learned that corporate life was not destined for you. You really only stayed in the class because of Changbin, who would made it somewhat enjoyable.

You met at least six of them through Changbin. If there was a party on campus, Changbin would not hesitate to invite you. He refused to allow you to sit at home alone. Or if they were studying at the library, you would be coming along. At first, his friends thought you and Changbin were dating. They quickly dropped that rumor when they found out about your little crush on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was the first of Changbin's friends that you met. At the time though, you didn't know they were friends. You and Hyunjin had been placed in the same art history class, a general education requirement for your program. That's when you learned that he was a fine arts major. Art studying art. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Hyunjin in class, a bit intimidated by his charm.

It was Changbin who put the pieces together about your little crush. You were talking about your campus crush during a study session. "Wait. Do you mean Hyunjin?" Changbin was quick to pull out a photo of all of them. The smirk grew on your best friend the moment you got all flustered and nodded your head. What a small world.

Since then, the boys found any way to try to get you two be together. Hyunjin never really showed up to the parties Changbin was invite to. Hyunjin was the type of guy who wanted to focus on his craft, opting to spend nights painting or sketching. He would go out to dinner with the boys and the occasional drink at the bars in town.

That's when Changbin foiled the perfect plan to get you two alone. Changbin was going to be the one for one that hosted the party. He knew that Hyunjin wouldn't be able to say no to him, especially when they live under the same roof still. Hence why also Changbin was over at your place, helping you get ready. You didn't want to leave anything up to chance. "You know, y/n. You could be saving yourself from this much stress if you just told Hyunjin how you felt in the first place." "Seo Changbin, you've lost your damn mind!"

You heard that infamous laughter fill your room. His laugh could cause a whole earthquake with its loud booming volume. Changbin slowly walked up to you, placing his hands on your shoulder. He could feel how tense you were, probably from your nerves getting the best of you. He squeezed your shoulder lovingly. "You look amazing, y/n. Hyunjin is going to be blown away when he sees you tonight."

The comforting words of your best friend helped you relaxed. Sort of. You still wanted to make a good impression on Hyunjin tonight. The two of you have maybe spoken about five words to each other - a simple "hello" in passing. You could never bring yourself to form sentences whenever you were in the same social setting. Tonight was going to be different.

"Shit, I gotta go, y/n. Chan is going to kill me if I don't make it to the beer distributor before they close. You're not going to chicken out, right?"

You rolled your eyes playfully before looking into his eyes. "Changbin, you have my word, I will be there."

"Great! Remember, party starts at 8! See you then."

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

"Y/n! Where the hell are you?! It's past 8 and you're not here!"

You couldn't help but giggle at Changbin's text message. It was only 8:11pm and this man was practically ready to send out a search-and-rescue crew for you. You were going to cause a heart attack for this guy. To be fair, you didn't ask him to orchestrate a party just for you to try to get with your crush. You laughed even harder seeing the text from Felix.

"Y/n, please tell me you're on your way. Changbin is pacing 😦 I've never seen him like this. I'm worried he's going to burst" "Tell Changbin to come open the door then."

The text was sent right as you stepped up to the front door. You could hear the music from inside, but heard fast movement from inside. Changbin. He was like a bull in a glassware manufacturing company. The door swung open to reveal your out of breath best friend.

"You are the worst," he puffed out. "Nice to see you too, Binnie!"

You walked into the room as if you owned the place. Surprisingly, you were completely sober, but you did need a drink or two before you encounter Hyunjin. Everyone had their eyes on you, some of the boys playfully whistling. You smirked and winked at them before turning on your heels to address your friends. "Shots anyone?"

All the boys seemed to cheer before you led the parade to the kitchen. "Bin, what is the alcohol of choice tonight?" You asked from over your shoulder. You saw there were a few options to choose from, as well as plentiful amount of mixers. That was definitely Chan's contribution to evening. If people were going to drink, you knew everyone would do so safely under Chan's watchful eye.

"I'm thinking tequila?" "Risky, but this isn't our usual gossip session." "Vodka!" Jeongin shouted.

All eyes turned towards the youngest of the group. He was normally the type to go with the flow of the group, but hearing him be so vocal was a welcome surprised. "That's my boy," Lee Know praised. He threw his arm around the maknae as you gathered the shot glasses.

"Are you going to pour one for me too?"

The voice. It was as if the air was stolen out of your lungs and your heart sped up, basically hearing it in your ears. You knew that voice anywhere. You looked over your shoulders to see Hyunjin leaning against the threshold that led into the kitchen from the living room of the apartment.

"You actually going to party with us? Or are you going to slip away upstairs to your room once you have one shot?" Changbin teased. "No, I like the energy here instead," he announced.

While he spoke, his eyes were locked on you. You could've sworn that his eyes ran up and down your body. Calm the fuck down. God, you felt like you might melt into a puddle under his gaze. Does he even know how attractive he is? Why did he have to walk in right before you got a chance to drink? Before you got a chance to give yourself a confidence boost?

"Come on, y/n. Don't keep us waiting," Felix laughed.

You quickly got to work to pull out nine shot glasses for the group. You lined them up on the island, everyone circling around. Across from you was Changbin, who was eyeing you with a wicked grin. If you could reach across and smack him right now, he would. Changbin would call out to his friends every now and then, causing them to stop and pause to see what was up. It was the perfect ploy to allow Hyunjin to slip in next to you.

Standing so close to you, you were able to get a smell of his cologne. It wasn't too strong but not subtle at all. It was a distinct smell that made your head spin. Changbin was satisfied with the placement of everyone around the island, landing on you last. "You're welcome," he mouthed to you. Oh, he's going to get it.

"You know, y/n, I didn't think you were going to show up tonight." "And I didn't think you'd come downstairs to join us," you laughed. "You really think I'd miss out on being here?"

What did he mean by that? Your brain didn't have time to ask questions before you heard the sound of liquor being poured. You looked over to see Jeongin pouring rounds for everyone. A proud grin on his face knowing everyone approved of his idea.

Once all the glasses were poured, Hyunjin lifted his shot glass first. Everyone paused to stare at him. He wore a smile before his eyes traveled around the small circle gathered in the kitchen. His eye landing on you last. "To the night of our lives."

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

Your body felt warm. You weren't sure if it was because of how hot it was in the room or from the alcohol in your body. Your hips moved to the beat of the music playing. One hand held a red solo cup, the other thrown up in the area.

Changbin was off who knows where. He was either having to play host at Chan's request or trying to get with the girl from his statistics class. The rest of the group was mixed and broken into smaller groups throughout the house. Everyone seemed to be having truly the time of their lives, as Hyunjin wished.

Every now and then, you would glance over your shoulders to see if you could spot him. But he seemed to be nowhere. With more alcohol in your system, you feel powerful. You were in the right mindset to make a move on him without stopping yourself. No more holding back.

"Looking for me, sweetheart?"

That's not Hyunjin. You looked in front of you to see a guy from one of your classes last semester. Taehyun, you think? He was the guy who liked to flirt with everyone, to try to make moves on anyone. I mean, you have to give it to him because he was an attractive guy. He jus wasn't your type. Especially not when you have your eyes locked on someone else.

"Oh hey Taehyun," you giggled. "Nooo I'm not looking for you." "Such a shame because I've had my eyes all on you." Before you could say something, you felt hands on your hips pulling you closer. Your hips are pressed against his. You could feel Taehyun's fingertips grazing against your ass. He was looking at you with a sly smirk on his face which you wanted to punch. "Y/n, why don't you give us a chance, hmm? We could be a great couple. Or we could just be together for one night." Taehyun leaned in closer, letting his lips press start pressing against your cheek. His hand fully cupped your ass, keeping you close. Your one hand is placed on Taehyun's chest, trying to create some distance. However, with how much stronger Taehyun was compared to you and only having one hand free, it was proving to be a bigger challenge. His lips were trying to make their way down to your neck. You didn't want to just drop your cup and create an even bigger mess. But maybe you should? It would create a pretty good diversion.

"Hey! Get off," you heard a voice shout over the music.

Suddenly, you were being pulled back into the person behind you. One arm was wrapped around you, keeping you close. The sudden motion caused your hand to jerk forward and spill over Taehyun. "What the fuck, Hyunjin?! She's not even off the market."

Hyunjin? You glanced behind you to see the man himself. He jaw was slightly clenched while his gaze was locked on Taehyun. His gaze was stern. "But she's off limits to you. Plus, you got a mess to clean up." Taehyun rolled his eyes before he stormed off. You slowly, a bit wobbly turned towards Hyunjin.

"Woah, you okay, sweet girl?" His voice was much gentler now compared to how he spoke to Taehyun. You've never seen that side of Hyunjin before. He softened his gaze on you, looking at you with concern. You always saw him as a gentle giant, bit clumsy at times but that's what you found adorable about him. After that encounter, you got confirmation he was also very sexy. But you always knew that one.

"I'm better now. Where have you been all evening?" You pouted. "Sorry, I was talking to Changbin, but I'm here now. Can I get you anything?" "Water? I'm feeling a bit dizzy with my body being moved around." "Of course, come on, let's get out of here." Hyunjin guided you towards the kitchen, away from the loud music and crowds of people. There were still a few people scattered throughout the remainder of the apartment, but some groups were starting to leave for the evening. The atmosphere in the kitchen was an opposite compared to the rest of the apartment.

You were led towards the fridge. With ease, Hyunjin was able to open the cabinet and grab a glass from the top shelf. You looked over towards the counter, seeing the handle of vodka Jeongin poured earlier. The red cap rested on the island. The smell of the liquor made you feel a bit queasy.

Hyunjin quickly noticed your state. He looked over towards the island. "I think we're done for the evening," he chuckled lightly. He put the glass down on the counter top so he could put the cap back on the liquor, attempting to rid of the stronger odor.

"Yeah, that's a good call." You both shared a laugh before Hyunjin continued on his initial mission - getting you water. He moved swiftly around you to open th fridge. He grabbed the black handle of the Brita pitcher to pour you a glass of cold water.

"You're my savior, Hyunjinnie," you gasped softly, watching him "I don't know about that much. I do know I'd do anything for you, y/n."

He presented you with he glass of water with a gentle kiss on your forehead. You felt your cheeks heat up immediately. You tilted your head down in an attempt to hide your cheeks from him.

"What is it, darlin'? Do I make you nervous?"

You noticed a hand covering yours, moving the glass of water away from your face. You slowly looked up to see Hyunjin hovering over you. Your back was gently pressing against the counter. Hyunjin had the other hand pressed against the counter, caging you in slightly.

What the fuck is happening? With the hand placed over yours, he placed the water glass on the island behind you. His now free hand was placed underneath your chin. He made sure you kept your eyes on him. Not that you would ever dare to look away. You had the most gorgeous view in the world right in front of you.

"So remember when I said I was talking to Changbin earlier? He told me something very interesting." "Oh yeah? What is that?" "He told me that you have a crush on me," Hyunjin smirked. Seo Changbin, when I find you-

"Why would you keep that a secret from me, honey? That's not a very nice thing to do." "I-"

What the fuck am I supposed to say? How do I respond to that? Hyunjin smirked at your reaction. He was enjoying watching you get frazzled because of him. "I never thought you'd be into me, Hyunjin. Because come on, you're you." "And you're you. How could I not be into you?"

Your eyes widened at Hyunjin. Is this actually happening? He had a gentle smile on his face as his eyes seemed to watch you. It was as if he was watching your body language, looking for any sign that you might be uncomfortable. "Hyunjin, listen, I gotta make sure that this is actually what you mean. Because I don't want you to feel bad that I've had a crush on you for a long time and trying to give me something so I can move on." "Baby, stop," Hyunjin quickly said. "First of all, I didn't know you had a crush on me for a long time."

God dammit. Me and my big mouth.

"Second of all, is this proof that I actually mean it?"

At that moment, his lips pressed against yours. You placed your hand on Hyunjin's forearm to stabilize yourself because you could have sworn that your knees would have given out. His lips were so soft and the kiss was delicate. Your lips moved in sync, catching each other's every now and then. You never thought that you'd get to this point.

Slowly, you pulled back. You bit your lip gently, looking up at him. "Was that real enough for you?" He asked teasingly. "I don't know," you teased. You both laughed before you stood on your tiptoes. Your hand remained on his forearm, but the other cupped his cheek. You kissed him a bit more with passion. There was no way you were going to let this opportunity pass you by. He smiled gently against your lips. You smiled also as his hand rested on your hip, stabilizing you.

Your world didn't feel like it was spinning any more. You were content with just being still, being here with Hyunjin.

231 notes · View notes

qilinxingg · 9 months

Text

𝟓 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 "𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 "𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

pairing : john prince x gn!reader

summary : as you discover each other's feelings, you and Price try to start a relationship. even if he hasn't said "I love you" yet, it becomes very obvious from John's actions how important you are to him.

warnings : none, just fluff :)

word count : 1,4k

notes : my first language is not english, so if there's any mistake i apologise!!!

all the ideas were taken from this post 🦋

1. Tucking strands of loose hair behind their ears, with a thumb caressing their cheek

With all the hustle and bustle of everyday life, thinking about yourself was the last thing that could occur in your busy head. And that worried the captain a little.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a break?" John questioned every five minutes, when he noticed the frown appearing on her otherwise beautiful face.

"No, I have to finish this as soon as possible." That's what you always replied, bending further into the work in front of you.

You heard John sigh beside you and soon after, the cup of tea he was holding landed on the table. He moved the chair next to yours away and sat down next to you, watching you with his bright sapphire eyes.

While your fingers quickly pressed down on the keyboard of your laptop, small strands of hair settled on the side of your face, almost reaching your visual field. John, noticing this, slid his fingers into the unruly strands and tucked them behind his ear. Then his calloused fingers rested on your cheek gently, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

This gesture seemed to catch your attention, for when he noticed, your gleaming gaze was watching his movements carefully and no longer on that tedious document. As if wanting to know his next move.

Possessing your attention completely, John sketched a slight smile on his face as he continued the gentle caress on your cheek. You sighed and let yourself get lost in his touch, placing your soft hand over John's firm hand.

"You finally looked at me, darling." That was the last thing John said before joining your mouth on his.

2. Interlacing their fingers with the other’s when they least expect it

You and Price were lying on his bed. Your little sleeping figure nestled into the captain's warm, sturdy chest.

John never ceased to be amazed at how adorable you looked, even in your sleep. Your body was so fragile compared to his own. It seemed as if you would disappear or break at any moment.

While admiring you, John noticed the slight change in your face. It was like a sky of blue petals being invaded by annoying and melancholic grey clouds, announcing that rain was approaching.

John took your hand and entwined your small fingers in his warm ones, leaving a comforting cuddle. In a way that let you know he was there and that you didn't need to be afraid.

"Shh…it's okay, sweetheart. I'm here." John whispered, like a promise as he kissed each of your delicate fingers. His facial hair tickling the area.

At his comforting words, your bothered expression sketched a sweet smile. Your body moved closer to his, as if you wanted to feel more of his welcoming warmth.

John smiled and continued kissing your fingers, as a reminder of his protecting presence.

3. Surprising the other with flowers just because; no occasion and no reason needed

John had left the country exactly a couple of weeks ago, as he had been called up for another mission with his task force. And as usual, with no date to return. Which meant it could last almost a month, or even longer.

It was always painful for both of you to say goodbye, not knowing when you might see each other again or if anything might happen to him.

Just the thought of John covered in blood and full of injuries was enough to make your whole body shiver with fear. You always hated having that disturbing image following you around every moment he went away.

Before you could think of anything else, the sound of the doorbell rang through your house, freeing you from the distressing thoughts. You stood up and made your way to the door of your house. When you opened it, the young delivery man appeared, holding a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers.

You picked them up after signing the paper confirming the delivery. After saying goodbye to the delivery man, you walked back into your house and sat down on your couch.

Looking at the bouquet, you realised that there was a small card hidden among the graceful flowers. Picking it up, you could see Price's elegant handwriting.

"Your favourite flowers, to remind you that I am always with you, my love.

With love, J.P."

You felt the wet tears running down your cheeks as you finished reading the card. God, you missed him so much. It hurt to remember that he was far away, fighting to protect the world from the evil that was spreading.

You wiped your tears and ran your fingers through the delicate petals of the flowers.

You couldn't wait to be in his strong arms again.

4. Getting them something from the store when they only mentioned it in passing

You and John were walking through the streets of London, enjoying the unusually fine weather in the rainy city. It wasn't often that you could enjoy a beautiful sunny day without rain falling on your face.

His fingers intertwined as they walked through the busy passages as a way of keeping her close to him. She smiled as she felt his strong hand wrap around hers, along with the light caress.

With a bit of courage, you wrapped your arm around John's strong arm, bringing your bodies even closer together. You looked up and noticed the captain's blue eyes staring at you warmly, along with a slight smile of surprise.

You blushed and quickly looked away from his intense blue, looking around the shops on the street to distract yourself. Noticing the particular bookshop, your gaze quickly brightened.

"John! John! Let's go in there!" You practically crawled the large man behind you.

"Sure, love." John laughed at your enthusiastic reaction, following you like an obedient puppy.

As you entered the bookshop, you looked at the books on display and your expression brightened as you noticed the new book from your favourite collection. You quickly picked it up and began to appreciate it.

"Ah, it's so beautiful. What I'd give to have him right now…" You mumbled as you practically hugged the book.

"Why don't you buy it then?" John questioned, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest.

"I wanted to, but when they're released they're always more expensive." You sighed sadly, forming an adorable little peck on your lips. "I'll probably have to wait for the price to come down…"

John moved closer to you and left a light kiss on your forehead, making you laugh as you felt the tickle of his facial hair.

"I'm sure you'll get it soon enough." You laughed and scoffed at his statement, while his intense gaze landed on the book.

It took nothing more for the next day, the book you had been wanting so badly to appear on your doorstep.

5. Getting lost in each other's gaze

John and you were sitting on the balcony seats of his room, enjoying the fascinating view of the sun hiding and disappearing. The two of you were chatting as you felt the light breeze.

However, noticing that you were the only one talking, you gradually stopped talking as you noticed Price's lost look. You thought you had done something wrong so you nestled there and looked away in embarrassment, until he spoke again.

"I love you." At first, you thought you had been dreaming. However, as you faced him again, you could see his deep ocean softening and becoming kinder.

"I love you." Price repeated again, adding your name to the statement. However, you were too lost in his serene blue gaze. The emotion in his eyes was deep, but they carried the warmth and love he felt for you.

You smiled and let a tear run down your cheek, which was soon wiped away by John's fingers on your cheek.

"I know." You replied with a laugh. "I love you so much too, John."

Price smiled and pulled you into his lap. You snuggled your face into the curve of his neck, while his fingers gently stroked your back.

You stared at each other once more before joining your lips. In the background, the sun was slowly disappearing, letting an orange colour run across the previously blue sky, making the scene unforgettable in the memories of both of you.

#john price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #cod mw2 #price mw2 #captain price #john price fluff #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #price x reader #qilinxingg

912 notes · View notes

m00nlight-ramblings · 5 months

Text

In A Natural Way

As a former artist, you can't help but create when you see beauty. When Halsin finds you sketching by the lake, he is in wholehearted agreement on the beauty.

Pairings: Halsin x GN Tav

Warnings: fluff. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.89k

Requested: yes

A/N: I love Halsin, I was so happy to write this! Also I haven't gotten to Elfsong Tavern yet so if something is innacurate...in this story it isn't!!! (teehee) I do not give permission for my work to be copied or shared on other sites without my consent.

Karlach was already pulling Wyll along towards the bar of the Elfsong, making good on his promised to share a stout once they arrived. She was chattering his ear off as he happily sat next to her, Gale joining by his other side. Shadowheart and Lae'zel were nowhere to be found (probably arguing - or secretly making out - outside), Astarion was already in his room upstairs, and Halsin was taking his time walking around the tavern, admiring the wall art.

"I am going to stroll around the city," You announced, shouldering your bag and waving to the group, "I'll be back before suppertime."

"Don't go out too far," Halsin said, smiling, "We wouldn't want to start without." He winked, and held the door open for you. You blushed as you stepped outside, the little somersaults in your stomach fluttering due to Halsin.

So you had a small crush on Halsin.

Okay...maybe it was more than a "small crush".

You cheekily smiled at him and kept on ahead, trying to push your thoughts of Halsin (and his incredible pecs) out of your mind. You had one goal - to find the small pond the party passed to get to the Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you had seen it, you were immediately inspired, and wanted to grab for your sketchbook immediately.

As we had headed for the Elfsong Tavern earlier in the day, you had all decided to take a reprieve for an evening and not only rest there, but also drink and dine and relax. Like children on a trip, you were given the rest of the day to do what you saw fit - drinking, shopping in town, napping...the world was your oyster.

You would partake in the debauchery later in the evening, but for now, you wanted to take a rest in nature...something you weren't necessarily able to do while going along this little adventure you had found yourselves in.

After a bit of time walking, you finally walked upon the pound - surrounding by trees, water glistening, and birds chirping above head. Just a tiny bit on the outskirts of town, a tiny oasis in this urban setting. You smiled at the mere sight of it and quickly made your way to the largest tree set a little off from the water. Making yourself comfortable, you slid your sketchbook and pencils out of your bag. You sighed.

Contently. Happily.

Before you were captured and a tadpole was shoved into your eye, you were an artist in your hometown, over the moon that you were able to create a life based upon your passion for art. You were able to sketch every now and then since the Nautiloid, but never really able to sit down and focus on it.

Now you had your chance, and you were reveling in it.

Once the pencil hit the paper, you couldn't stop, only pausing to look at your study; the pond itself. The way the sun reflected off the serene waters gave you goosebumps...the fact that you were able to capture it gave you even more.

Soon, you were able to lose yourself in the action of sketching, your mind drifting to other things.

Other things always equated to Halsin, no matter how hard you tried to think of anything else. Ever since he had joined your party, the gentle giant had stolen your heart through not only his romantic words, but also his kindness towards others (and especially nature). Every so often you had the feeling that he reciprocated your feelings, but you didn't dare test the waters - not only did you not have time (thanks, looming transformation into an Ilitihid), but the potential embarrassment from rejection was terrifying on it's own.

After about an hour or so of sketching and absolutely thinking of Halsin naked over and over again, you yawned and looked up - the sun was setting, casting golden rays across the pond. Your sketch was getting more detailed by the minute, but you felt elated to stretch your artistic muscles that had been forgotten in the previous weeks. Resting your head against the tree behind you, you folded your hands in your lap and sighed happily. You closed your eyes and decided to take a break.

Besides, you were sure you had plenty of time before dinner back at Elfsong.

You felt a gentle finger run along the back of your hand. A smooth voice lightly murmured in your ear and you felt your head eyelids slowly open.

"We were worried about you...you said you would be back in time for dinner." Halsin gently said, taking your hand in his, "I'm glad I found you."

Eventually, you came to, realizing that Halsin was gently cradling you awake. You jumped, the fact that it was Halsin of all people waking you quicker than any gentle murmurings could.

"Gods! Halsin - hi!" You said, blinking rapidly. You noticed the sky around you was pitch black - hells, how long were you sleeping for?

"Yes, it is me," He chuckled, letting go of your hand, "I'm glad you were just asleep, and not worse...lost or..." He shook his head slightly, "Well, I won't even think of it."

Suddenly, you remembered the sketch book on your lap. At the same time, Halsin took notice of it, looking down inquisitively. A small smile appeared on his face and he cocked his head to the side in order to investigate your sketch further.

"This is beautiful," He spoke, his voice soft. Taking the leatherbound book from your lap gently, he held it in his hands, lightly fingering the pages. "I can see why you wanted to come back here on your own...you surely have a talent. I'm glad you were able to exercise it."

"Oh..." You blushed deeply, your heart beating rapidly. Quickly - but politely - you took the book back from him, closing it immediately and trying to put in your bag, "Thank you. That's very kind. I used to be an artists before...well, all of this..." You gestured out in front of you.

Halsin, noticing your embarrassment started to shake his head, "Do not be embarrassed by your gift. Being able to capture nature so beautifully...this is the closest I've seen to the real thing," He stared into your eyes, taking the book back and opening to the page you were just working on, "It's absolutely breathtaking."

"Halsin, your flattery..." You had to look away, the intensity in his eyes was almost too much. You could tell your blushing was still strong, and you painfully willed for your brain to shut off the heat on your cheeks, "It's too much! You're too kind...thank you."

Halsin continued to marvel at your work, bringing the book close up to his eyes so he could see better. As you let him look for a bit, you started to gather courage.

"I was...actually, um," You cleared your throat nervously, "I actually was thinking of you while I sketched it."

Halsin stopped looking at the sketch immediately, dropping the book gently in his lap and looking to you. "Me?" He repeated, a look of surprise on his face.

You nodded cautiously - gods, why did you tell him? - and realized you couldn't really back out of it.

Here it goes, I guess, You thought, quite glumly to yourself. You already started to prep yourself for the rejection.

"Yes, you. I thought this pond just looked so beautiful, and I obviously know how important nature is to you, so, I guess...I was thinking of you a lot...while I was sketching it, of course..."

Halsin nodded slowly and smirked, "Of course."

"Um..." You started to nervously play your hands, looking into your lap, "Actually, I wanted to create something for you, to help you feel...back at one with nature, when maybe...we are somewhere you aren't able to connect. And you miss it...or something. On the road, I mean."

"Well," He sighed, smiling fully now, "That means a lot, that you would do something like that, for me. I am grateful for your kindness...thank you."

You nodded, matching his smile, "Of course. Once it's fully complete I'll give it to you...I wanted to finish the shading on some parts..." You trailed off, taking a deep breath. When you looked back into his eyes, you saw kindness, and a gentle glow. You sighed, biting your lip.

Oh, fuck it.

"Halsin, I have to say...I've come to care for you deeply," You finally admit, "I don't know how much time we have left with everything, so I wanted to tell you that my feelings for you grown exponentially since we first met."

"And these feelings...have turned you into a poet, with your newly eloquent speech?" Halsin asked, a playful gleam in his eyes. A moment passed before you giggled, and it felt like the steam was releasing in your heart.

"You make me nervous!" You defended.

Halsin chuckled and gently, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "Why would I make you nervous?" He asked, leaning closer to you. His breath tickled your cheek, and you felt his warmth on your lips.

"Not you...necessarily," You spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "But the idea of...your rejection. Rejection from you. After I've...told you my feelings."

His eyes searched yours, and he nodded solemnly. "Yes. That would be quite nerve-wracking indeed...if you were to tell me your secret feelings towards me, and I rejected you..." He took the back of his knuckles and gracefully skimmed your cheek with them, "But it's a good thing, then, that a rejection was not in the plan."

You heart lurched as you smiled, feeling brave and taking the hand that had just cupped your cheek, "Oh, it's not in the plan? Well...good thing, then. I guess I have nothing to worry about, then."

Slowly, he leaned in even closer, your lips touching gently now. He teased you, getting so close, but not finishing the action to completion. "Good thing, then." He said finally.

Gently, he pressed his lips against yours, his arms instinctively finding your shoulders and pulling you close. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you pressed your hands against his chest, asking permission for his mouth to open with your tongue. He obliged and willingly deepened the kiss, sending fireworks off in your brain.

As you continued your kiss, you felt Halsin becoming more frantic, a moan escaping his mouth. You pulled away, looking at him.

"I...want to continue this. We should probably get back to the Elfsong, yes? To be somewhere more...comfortable? With a bed?" You suggested, your voice husky. You couldn't try to cover your lust for him even if you tried.

Halsin smiled and took hold of your hand, his eyes dark. "Who says we need a bed to be more comfortable?"

You chuckled, and should have known - a Druid would never choose a bed over nature. Leaning back into him, you ran your fingers through his hair, adjusting yourself so you were sitting on his lap.

"Well then...why don't you show me how comfortable nature can really be?"

Halsin smiled and gently moved the book to the side, as if it was the most precious thing. Then, he playfully pounced on you, causing you to emit a laugh so loud, it echoed throughout the pond.

------

What did y'all think? My first Halsin fic...I love this huge druid giant. Reminder that my inbox is open for requests!

#halsin fanfic #halsin headcanons #bg3 halsin #halsin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin romance #halsin x reader

394 notes · View notes

drewsephrry · 3 months

Text

memories

harry styles x reader

inspired by: Memories-Conan Gray

warnings: alcohol consumption, yelling, crying (idk if it counts as a warning) cuss words

words: 2.7k

It was a rainy autumn night. She had a random movie playing in the background just to comfort her. She hated rain with passion. She hated that she was all alone and the only thing she could do to distract herself from it was look at old pictures.

Pictures from her childhood that were much too nostalgic for her, trying really hard to remember the name of the girl braiding her hair. Pictures from her vacation with her best friends from the previous summer, matching flower crowns and seashell necklaces on display. Pictures with her previous lover, that if she saw just two months ago she would cry her heart out but instead she smiled and reminisced about the tattoo he had let her draw on his skin shown in the photo.

It was a random Thursday night, the couple was chilling with their friends when Zayn told them that he had just acquired a tattoo gun. Harry was thrilled with the idea of putting more ink on his skin and even more so when Niall suggested that he let Y/N draw one on him.

Y/N had almost immediately shook her head in denial but Harry begged and begged until she sighed, defeated.

“Harry, you do know you're going to be stuck with it forever?” She warned.

“Yes, my love. Stop worrying about everything.” He tries to reassure her once more.

“But H, what if I mess it up? Or-or even worse we break up and you have it on your skin for the rest of your life?” She started asking with shakily hands, stuttering and failing to breathe properly.

“Y/N, honey, breathe. You'll be fine. Okay and what if you mess it up? That would just make it even more special to me. I love you and I completely trust you.” He puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. “I'm not planning on breaking up with you anytime soon, maybe even ever. Unless you do and you're trying to let me down slowly, I don't see anything wrong with you tatting me.” He reassures her once again and she sighs, nodding. Harry smiles widely and pecks her lips, before pulling his long hair up in a bun.

After sterilizing the equipment and Zayn showing her how the gun works, she was ready. She didn't feel like it, but Harry squeezed her hand three times, their way of expressing their love to each other without actually saying anything.

She asked him multiple times, as the tattoo gun hit his skin if he was in any pain and if he needed anything, but Harry told her repeatedly he was fine and was praising her for her light touch.

After just a few minutes, the sketch, she had done on a random notebook Zayn had in his apartment, was brought to life.

A palm tree on the backside on his upper arm was delicately outlined and filled by her. She grabbed the handheld mirror that Zayn gave her and held it so Harry could see the work she did.

“Do you like it? If you don't, we can find something to cover it up with and I'll pay for it.” She suggested immediately, worried because he hadn't spoken yet. But the truth was he was mesmerized by it.

“I love it. It's so simple but yet done so beautifully. Thank you, my love. Thank you so so much.” He said kissing her lips. She smiled and sighed once again.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Well, you know what they say. Tat for tit!” He exclaimed jokingly, trying to lift her shirt when Y/N pushed his hand away giggling.

“You're such an idiot!”

Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. She stopped gazing at her phone and another knock was heard. She got up from her couch cautiously. It was really late and it was pouring outside. Who could it be?

She grabbed the pepper spray from her handbag, as another knock was heard. She clutched her phone, close to her chest, ready to call the police.

She looked through the peephole and saw the one person she didn't expect to.

Harry was standing there, his hair sticking on his forehead and his clothes soaked.

She quickly unlocked the door and gasped.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” She asked, worried and confused.

“Need to talk with you, angel.” He slurred, an obvious sign he was drunk. He was pouting and his glossy, his green eyes were bloodshot telling her he was crying. His cologne was overcome by the smell of tequila. Y/N couldn't do anything else than open the door wider and gestured for him to come in.

She closed the door behind her and walked to her kitchen to pour some water for him, in hopes that he would sober up a little. He followed her like a wet and lost puppy that she couldn't turn away.

He takes a gulp of the water she hands him and smiles at her. She looked so cute and tiny compared to him, her hair was a little longer and her skin was still tanned from summer.

“I love you so much Y/N/N. I never wanted to hurt you.” He slurred again.

“But you did, H.” She couldn't tolerate standing there and listening to him pour his heart out when he broke her own a few months ago.

Y/N had started getting better. Getting over him. She was considering starting dating again. But seeing him like this made it so hard for her to think. Think about how fucked what he did and said was.

“Please, my baby, my love, listen to me. I made a huge mistake.” He was pulling his hair and trying to balance on his own two feet. He stumbled and fell to the floor, Y/N immediately reaching for him to make sure he was alright.

“I have missed you. I can't sleep without you. I barely eat anymore. I-I…don’t know what to do without you.” He confessed, tearing up. He pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat with his back on one of the kitchen cabinets.

Y/N was nodding, feeling upset and guilty she made him feel like this.

“H-Harry…I don't know what to say. Please, don't cry. You can stay with me tonight. We'll be fine.” She bent down to be eye level with him, comforting him and hugging him tightly. Neither one of them could deny how safe they felt in that moment, in each other's arms.

Y/N knew she was making a huge mistake, something her therapist won't be able to help with, something her friends cannot support and mostly she cannot expect any one of them to be there to pick up her pieces when everything would break down again.

Harry was led to her bedroom and she helped him lay down, removing his articles of clothing that he claimed felt like lava on his skin.

“Why were you all alone? Don't you still hate the rain?” He asked, getting under the covers of her bed, his eyes slightly closed. Y/N nodded and walked towards her side of the bed.

Y/N laid beside him, wrapping her arms around his back and to his front. He squeezed them three times, before quiet snores were the only thing heard.

How could she say goodbye to him again, when he just spent an entire night with her?

That morning Y/N woke up to an empty bed. She walked out to her living room, to see that she was all alone.

He had left her.

She walked to the kitchen with an ache in her chest and saw a plate with a stack of pancakes with maple syrup on her kitchen counter for her to indulge in.

She ended up spending her whole day crying and watching ‘The notebook’.

The next day, when Y/N's therapy appointment was scheduled, she told her about the night she spent with Harry, how she felt safe and for once, after a few months, slept like a baby and through the whole night.

Her therapist scolded her about her poor choices and talked to her about stepping forward.

A few days passed since Y/N's and Harry's last encounter. Y/N was getting ready for her best friend's birthday party when a knock was heard on her door. She yelled that she'll be right there, thinking it was the delivery guy with her food.

She grabbed her wallet and ran to the door with a wide smile on her face. Although when she opened the door, it was wiped away quickly. She swallowed and looked at Harry's green eyes.

“I missed holding you.” He slurred. Y/N was already running late to help her best friend with the party preparations. She was planning on getting there first out of everyone, to blow balloons and hang the garlands she had bought. But her meal hadn't arrived in time and now, this was happening.

She opened the door wide and he entered, he walked and sat down on her couch with a thump. He giggled at the sound he made and got quickly distracted by the show on her TV.

Y/N groaned and tried to keep in her mind what her therapist, mom and best friend told her.

“It's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning, over and over again.”

“Hey, come look at this! Monica got stung by a jellyfish!” He giggled, getting comfortable on her couch.

She cursed under her breath, thinking how he would fuck up her progress in getting over him. Now twice. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and walked in her bedroom to call her best friend.

“I'm really sorry, but I won't make it tonight.” She lied.

“What? Y/N, it's my birthday! You can't miss it.” Her best friend had furrowed her eyebrows, even if Y/N couldn't see it.

“I love you so much, I'll explain everything another time. And I am really and truly sorry.” She apologized again.

“Don't tell me he's there again.” Her best friend groaned and Y/N sighed.

“Y/N/N, he's no good for you. He's going to hurt you again. He's going to keep coming back since you're not turning him away. This is a never ending cycle, babe. Think about all the trauma he put you through. You need to put him in the past and move on.”

Y/N sighed defeated. Her best friend was right.

“Again, I'm really sorry.” She apologized one last time, before hanging up the phone. She walked back to the living room, where he was laying on the couch watching as Ross yelled ‘We were on a break!’. Harry chuckles at that and looks up to find you standing a few feet away from him.

“Care to join me, my beautiful girl?” he asked, making space for her and she smiled sadly as she nodded.

“Let me take my heels off really quick and I'll be right there.” She assured him, going inside her bedroom again, untying the straps from her heels and sitting down on her bed to catch her breath. She felt like throwing up. She felt her chest heating and that she was unable to breathe.

One, two.

In, out.

She was calm again.

The doorbell was heard, so she got up and out of her bedroom to find Harry already at the door.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” His slurred British accent alarming you. You ran quickly at the door and pushed Harry away from it.

“I'm really sorry about him, he's not feeling well. Thank you for your service!” Y/N tipped the now scared delivery guy, grabbing the bag of food from his hand and closing the door quickly. She pressed her back on it and sighed loudly.

“Don't be upset with me. He just wanted to get in your pants. I was trying to protect you. I always will.” Harry's eyes filled with tears once again. A laugh track was heard and she sighed again.

“It's okay, H. I'm fine. We're fine. Let's go eat!” She grabbed his hand and he smiled, wiping his eyes.

They spent the rest of the night cuddling on her couch.

The next day, he was gone again. She opened her phone to see multiple texts and calls from her best friend, telling her not to worry and that she would forgive her for bailing on her.

Y/N ignored all of them, including her therapist's email to confirm their weekly appointment. She knew that she would be disappointed to hear that she's taking more and more steps back.

A week later, she still hadn't heard a word from Harry and she waited for his appearance on her doorstep.

And there he was, a loud knock on the door startling her from the cookies she decided to bake as a stress reliever.

She ran to the door and opened it to find him there. He looked a little bit better than the last times he visited her, although he still reeked of tequila.

“Hello, my love.” He said, approaching her to kiss her lips. But she pulled away and shook her head. She opened the door wider for him to enter. He did and walked to the couch, sitting down and removing his shoes, already getting comfortable. Y/N couldn't take it anymore.

“We need to talk. I don't care if you're sober or drunk as fuck, but this has got to stop.” She said upset.

“What's bothering you baby? I can kiss it better.” He giggled and made grabby hands at her.

“Harry, I am serious. You can't keep doing this. There's no good reason to believe that we could ever exist again. I cannot be your friend. I definitely cannot be your lover. And I cannot be the reason we hold back each other from actually falling in love with someone else.” Y/N felt lighter after telling him exactly how she felt.

Harry felt a lump growing on his throat, his eyeline was gathering tears and he felt his chest tightening. Suddenly his head was clearer and he wasn't under the influence of alcohol completely.

“I just…you can't keep showing up, especially drunk, ruining everything. Expecting me that I would just take you back. You fucking traumatized me Harry. You broke my heart. And I'm trying so hard to forget you, to put you in the past and you're not letting me do that. You're just too busy playing the victim and acting like you are the one who's hurt, like you're the one that has a specialist taking care of you and your feelings. Can you just for once listen to me and stay the fuck away from me? Just…stay in my memories.”

She felt tears rolling down her cheeks, she didn't even notice she was crying. Harry looked down on the floor, sniffling. Y/N wiped her tears and sat down beside him.

“Since you came all the way over here, I'll let you stay. You can stay as long as it takes, but this is the last time. When you're going to leave, you're taking all of your books that you have left, your coat that’s still in my closet and that good cologne that you have left in my bathroom and it haunts me. It's still on my clothes and pretty much everything that I own and it makes me…feel like dying. I mean, I'm barely surviving as it is.”

Harry was feeling like his heart was being stabbed over and over again. He hadn't realized how much damage he had done to Y/N. He didn't want her to feel that way anymore.

He got off from her couch and walked to her bedroom grabbing his coat, the cologne from the bathroom and gathered the books from her bookcase, putting them inside a tote bag, which was also his.

“I'm not gonna bother you anymore. I-I am really sorry for the damage I did. I never meant to hurt you. I love you way too much and…I know what I'm saying is not gonna change anything but I needed to get it off my chest. I wish you only the best, my lo-Y/N. And I'll always be there for you, if you ever need me. But I'll just stay in your memories.”

He kissed her lips once. Twice. Three times.

When he pulled away both of them had tears rolling down their cheeks, their eyes were red and their lips swollen from the kisses they shared.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Harry whispers. “For now.” He smiled and Y/N nodded.

“Goodbye H. Take care.”

A/N: just a lil valentines day gift lol, this was heartwrenching to write, hope you all enjoyed and cried with me

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles story #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

137 notes · View notes

robinsno1lesbian · 11 months

Note

Okay, I LOVE me some bold, confident Robin...

...but what about shy, blushy, I-live-in-a-small-town-so getting-it-on-with-another-girl-is-impossible-I'm-still-amazed-this-is-happening Robin's first time with an equally excited and inexperienced reader? It's sweet and cute and awkward, but then holy shit you get to be each other's first experience getting touched by someone other than yourself 🫣🫣🫣 I'm WEAK

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒, 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒, 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 - 𝐑.𝐁.

robin buckley x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4730

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), maybe a bit of internalized as well as period typical homophobia, is soft smut a thing?, first time, virginity loss, inexperienced!robin x inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering (fem!receiving obviously), let me know if i missed anything <3

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no because you're so right anon! here's my take on that, i hope you like it! also thank you so much for 300 followers!! i'm so thankful for your support on here so have a 4k word robin x reader smut in return lmao

you can't help yourself but watch her from the corner of your eye. her bangs are falling into her eyes, it is something that has caught your attention a lot lately: the way she always tries to get them out of her face and the way her hair is way too stubborn with her. there are a lot of things that have caught your attention lately, especially when it comes to robin buckley. you do those silly little things: catch yourself daydreaming about her in class or sketching her features on the side of your worksheet rather than working on them. hell, you've been counting her freckles the other day and only stopped because she had snapped you out of it herself. if you didn't know any better, you'd say you're hopelessly in love with her. except that can't be...right? because she's a woman and you can't be in love with a woman. you're not supposed to be in love with a woman. and yet this is what it is supposed to feel like, from what you've heard: the way your stomach twists in a way that tickles through your whole body whenever she looks at you or is already staring whenever you turn back during your shared shifts simply can't be anything other than that. regardless of what you've heard, the things you feel whenever she is around are allconsuming. you try to think of the things people on TV claim. you really try to get yourself together, to keep your eyes glued on a bunch of boys that walk by in the hallway just like all of your friends do. but all of this is forgotten the minute you lay eyes on her. love, you sometimes (in rare moments of clarity) find yourself thinking, isn't supposed to be what oppresses you or chains you down. it's supposed to be free and you've only ever felt free, truly free, around robin. maybe that's why you can't stop watching her now. summer has chosen to come early this year and the heat is already on the verge of being unbearable in late may. she's sitting on your bed, legs crossed and back bent over a book that's open on her leg. she's using a bright yellow marker to highlight important paragraphs, her lip tugged between her front teeth as she works in concentration.

yet again, you can't stop yourself from watching, admiring her from afar like you always do.

she is in a pair of shorts and a tank top she has taken from your closet. it's not her style, white and lacy, and yet it still looks great on her. usual, maybe, but breathtaking nonetheless, emphasizing the curves of her body that are normally hidden from the view underneath a layer of baggy clothing. you're grateful that you get to see her like this. "you're doing it again" her raspy voice snaps you back to reality and she speaks without even looking up from the text. "huh?" you raise a brow and tilt your head "what?" robin looks up from her book and drums the pen against her thigh a couple of times before she answers. "you're staring" she doesn't say it as if it was something that bothers her. she sounds so...sweet, maybe? "oh uhm-" your mind is racing with possible things to answer in return. you always have plenty to say, but right now, your normally busy and loud brain fails you when you need it the most. "i was just thinking" you mumble eventually. robin thinks about this for a second, shrugs, and focuses on her book again. "you do that a lot lately, don't you?" "there's a lot to think about" you say and she grins. "like what?" "dunno..." you shake your head and laugh softly "i guess my mind has been really full of thoughts lately" that catches robin's attention. she closes the book and turns so that she's facing you. her leg almost brushes yours. almost. you find yourself longing for that brief brush of skin, wishing she would lean in just a tiny bit more, just enough for that. "you know you can talk to me, right y/n?" as if she's been reading your mind, robin reaches out and puts a palm to your knee. your breath hitches in your throat and you fake a cough to cover it. you don't know what has gotten into you or why you choose to do what you do. but something in you finally gives you the strength to speak.

"robin have you ever...felt like, i don't know, genuinely, fundamentally different?" a smirk creeps up her cheeks. "all the time" she says.

"no but- i mean- not just in a way that you don't...i don't know..." you do know. what you really want to ask her is if she has ever felt the way you do every single day. if she ever wanted to kiss another woman, if she ever wanted to do more than just that too. "hey" she traces circles over your damp skin "is there something you want to talk about y/n?" you look up and her eyes meet yours. it almost seems like her pupils blow just a little bit wider at the sudden eye contact. you've never seen the ocean, have lived your whole life in this tiny town of hawkins, but you're certain that that's the colors of the waves that meet the shore.

perhaps another time you would've looked away and blushed. but robin is tilting her head sideways and has this sweet look on her entire face that has made you want to kiss her a hundred times before. only this time it is different. you know you're running out of time; it is only a matter of time until you will go separate ways, robin to europe and you to some god-forsaken college your parents have picked out for you. you know that if you don't do it now, you won't ever. and so you do it, against all odds. slowly, you reach out and place a strand of hair -one that's been bothering her all this time- behind her ear. her skin feels so soft under your touch that you can't help yourself but exhale slowly. just when you want to withdraw your hand, your touch already lingering for a bit too long, robin grabs your wrist and holds it there. "don't" she whispers. your palm meets her cheek and suddenly you're holding her face and she's leaning into your hand.

robin turns her face in your palm in a way that allows her lips to brush over it. your heartbeat picks up its pace when she starts kissing the heel of your hand, leaving you completely breathless. you watch her in complete awe and bite your lip at the sight in front of you. "robin..." you murmur and gently pull her a little bit closer, not enough for her to actually move forward, but just enough for her to feel your suggestive movement. she follows suit immediately and starts leaning in closer. closer and closer until her lips are almost touching yours. her breath meets your skin in short, hot puffs that send shivers down your spine. robin's eyes are fixated on your lips and you let all fear fall away. instead, you say "can i kiss you?". robin doesn't answer. instead, she grabs your face in a desperate manner and closes the little bit of distance that is left between you. her lips feel soft, that's the first thing you notice. and then your other senses start picking up on it too: she smells like summer; of the layer of sunscreen she must've applied in the morning and of the hawkins summer air that surrounds you. she tastes like chapstick and shared lemonade. robin leans back faster than you want her too, doesn't stay for more than one quick kiss. "h-holy shit y/n i'm- did you- i mean- was that okay?" you smile. "more than okay robin but...can we...can we do that again?" the excitement practically sparks in her eyes when you ask that but she nods immediately. "i would love nothing more" she scrambles up and bumps into you in the process of getting closer so that she's pressing you further into the pillows on your bed. you gasp but it turns into laughter against her lips when she pretends it never happens and puts her lips on yours again. she misses your lips though, kissing your front teeth due to your laughing. "stop laughing" she chuckles against your mouth "i'm trying to kiss you" "my bad" you grin and wrap your arms around her, caging her in like that "try again". this time she doesn't miss and you're not a giddy mess either. this time, she really kisses you. one arm remains around her shoulder while your other hand holds her cheek and robin kisses you deeper. you stay like this for a while. she tilts her head experimentally every now and then and moves your face with her index too. it's much more than an awkward peck; you can feel the length of her body on yours, your legs dangling together on your bed despite the heat, and just when you think it couldn't possibly get any better, robin parts her lips and licks along your bottom lip, waiting for you to let her in. you gasp, slightly surprised but thrilled to see where this might go. you gladly allow her to lick into your mouth, parting your lips like she has done before. it's a new sensation, one that neither of you is really used to. the velvet of her tongue against your own tickles past your lips and into your mouth. that's when you feel it for the very first time: the tingling sensation that starts somewhere in your lower belly and pools between your thighs. hungry for more, you arch your back up and try to press her further against you. robin groans and the noise has the exact same effect on you as your current makeout session. "robin" you manage when she leans back to take a breath in. her brows narrow and she looks down at you. "are you okay? is this okay? do you want to stop?" "no!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too fast but robin just grins at that. "i mean- no. i just...touch me, please" "touch you?" she raises a brow "are you sure? i mean are you sure that you want this? i've never-" you shake your head gently "i haven't either robin...but i am sure. i want this. i want you" she gives you the sweetest smile and nods slowly. "but, just so we're clear" she runs a hand through her hair, giving you time to admire just how pretty she looks like this: slightly golden in the sunlight and lips plump from the previous kisses. "we can stop anytime, okay?"

"i won't want to stop" you whisper and she looks down at you in what looks like slight surprise but also amazement. "well we don't have to" she shrugs and earns a giggle from you. "just come here and kiss me already" that she'll gladly do. she leans down again and kisses your lips. this time, she slips her tongue past your lips immediately, but it is soft and passionate nonetheless. she kisses you slowly, just like you need it right now and her fingers link with yours so that she is holding both of your hands with her own while she is kissing you. you smile against her and you can feel her returning the gesture, you don't even have to open your eyes to know. "take off my clothes" you breathe into her open mouth. so her fingers run up your body until they reach the collar of your shirt, where she starts fumbling with the buttons. her kisses grow uncoordinated and you lean back. "damn it" she curses, struggling to undo the very first button. "hey" you reach out and wrap your fingers around her wrists "hey it's okay, let me help" robin looks into your eyes as you help her and open the shirt for her. she sits up slowly, eyes filled with disbelief that this sight is really revealing to her. she runs a hand through her hair once more and her jaw drops when you finish the final button. "like what you see?" you chuckle and watch robin through heavy lashes.

"god you could say that" she groans and shifts her weight back onto your thighs.

you sit up against your many pillows and push the fabric off of your shoulder, leaving you in nothing but a soft, lacy bra. you blush under her watchful eye and fight back to urge to hide from her. she must notice the way you look away from her because she gently brushes a finger over your cheek and down to your chin, lifting your gaze upon her. "you're so beautiful, y/n" she murmurs. "so beautiful"

you bring your own hands to her waist, squeezing the dip just above her hips slightly before you tug on the top that belongs to you. "can i...?" robin bites her lips and reaches out herself, pulls it over her head and then throws it over her shoulder carelessly. she is wearing a black bra and her chest is covered in freckles. you've always wondered whether the thin layer of freckles would continue below the collar of each of her shirts but you would've never expected that you would actually get to see it. you lean your head back and she gets the sign. robin leans down and kisses you softly, her hands roaming your sides. you start exploring her body too, shily at first. you move your palms over the swell of her breasts, just the ghost of a touch before you let them wander lower. she shudders when you touch her there and you gasp softly in return. your hands run up her back again and stumble upon the clasp of her bra. you look up from her chest and she is nodding already, giving you an answer to the unspoken questions. you unclasp it slowly, making sure she has time to comprehend it, before you pull it off of her entirely. and, god, she is beautiful. your breath hitches in your throat and you shamelessly gape at her chest. "like what you see?" robin grins, stealing the line you've used on her before. "oh shut up robin, you're- you're gorgeous" you keep looking at her and take your own bra off as well, getting you into an equal state of undressing. she inhales sharply and strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs pressing into your skin softly. "can i touch you?" when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to hold your breasts. you exhale shakily, feeling this new kind of touch on yourself. this is all so new, so sweet. a mix of shy touches and soft noises of approval. you're so happy that you get this with robin. that she is the one out of all people that does this for you. with you. her thumbs brush over your nipples and you arch your back forward involuntarily, a quiet moan drawn from your lips by her. "oh you like that?" your eyes fall shut and you nod, your lips forming a silent 'o'. she repeats the motion applying just the right amount of pressure that it feels even better than before. "j-just like that robin" you moan. robin smiles, obviously pleased with the reaction she got out of you. she leans forward again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves. "fuck-" "what?" your eyes snap open, slightly alarmed. but robin's expression doesn't look like one to be alarmed about. her eyes have fallen shut and her mouth is agape. that is when you realize that your thigh sits right against her center. "oh" you breathe out and she opens a single eye to look at you. she looks absolutely heavenly like this and, to test something, you flex the muscles in your thigh against her, eager to get a reaction out of her. robin's lashes flutter and her lips part at the same time as her head drops back in pleasure. "oh my god" she rasps "oh my god" "does that- feel good?" you ask her and put both of your hands on her hips. she nods to confirm it and gives her hips a couple of experimentally rolls forward, dragging them over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans fall from her lips. her normally low and raspy voice has this new, high-pitched tone to it that you've never heard before but from which you know that you need more of it. after some time, robin leans her forehead down against yours. she brings a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to her and her open mouth is brushing over your own, parted lips. her hot breathing and the quiet, shy moans that occasionally erupt from her send the same tingling sensation down your body. this is great already, better than you would've ever imagined, but you know you need more. and robin does too. "robin" you whisper and she stops her movements immediately. "yeah?" she breathes "are you okay?" you smile at how considerate she is with you, how attentive.

"more than okay i just- i wanna see you" "oh" "yeah, oh" you bite your lip "is that okay?" robin grins and shifts backward, away from your legs so that she can get herself out of the shorts she's wearing. you laugh softly when she struggles with the zipper and tries to kick them off her long legs. eventually, she gets out of them and throws them down the bed to kneel in front of you. "can we- uh- try something?" she asks, a shy blush on her cheeks. when you nod, she takes your hand in hers and pulls you up so that you're both kneeling in front of each other. you don't miss the way her eyes fall upon your chest, as if she still can't fully believe that all of this is really happening. her hand is still locked with yours when she holds it against the valley between her breasts. you gasp when you feel her heartbeat against your palm. "i want you to touch me" she speaks carefully and tilts her head to search your eyes for any doubts. "and i want to touch you too" you bite your lip at the thought of this and nod your head. "please" her fingers find the hem of your skirt and, while her eyes are still on yours, she pushes it down your legs so that it is pooling around your knees. she leaves it there before her fingers trace up your thighs slowly. you involuntarily spread your legs wider for her, which robin can only smile about. when her index reaches your clothed center, you watch her attentively: her mouth falls open when she feels the patch of arousal that has formed on your panties from her previous actions. "fuck, you're wet" she gasps. at those words, you feel yourself clenching around nothing and your facial expression because a reflection of robin's own: lips parting and eyes heavy with a kind of lust you've never felt before. judging by the look on her face, she has felt it against her fingertips. "touch me" she says and you do as you're told. you try to copy robin's movements, a hand between her thighs when you cup her through the fabric. that is when you get what she has meant by that: you can feel her wetness, damp through the underwear. you can also feel her against each of your fingers that are firmly pressing against her.

"y/n" robin moans softly and her head falls back slightly. you feel her pushing your panties aside slowly and you do the exact same for her, removing the last bits of clothing out of the way that is separating you from touching her the way you desperately want to. the moan she draws from your lips when she starts circling your clit is something you should probably feel embarrassed about, but robin's eyes are beaming at the noise. she doesn't want you to hide, she wants to hear you. robin tilts her head again, as if she's asking something from you, and then presses down against your clit slightly harder. "god, robin" you moan and your head falls forward against her shoulder. "it's okay" she whispers and runs her free hand into your hair "it's o- oh" regardless of how turned on your are, you can't help but grin when she moans at the sudden touch of your index and middle finger on either side of her clit, rubbing over it how you would do it if you were touching yourself. it seems to be working for her too. she starts picking up the pace of her own fingers in sync with your movements, rubbing gentle, clockwise circles around your clit. your legs are shaking already and you keep your head against robin's shoulder, muffling the soft moans in her hair and neck. you can feel how wet she is against your digits, proof that you really are making her feel good like this. occasionally, you dip your fingers down lower, where all of her wetness if pooling. you consider taking it one step further, but you find yourself being too shy to ask. instead, you gather her slick on your fingers and draw it back up to her clit. at one particular good stroke, robin reaches for your chin and moves your head away from its hiding spot so that you're looking at her. she's taller than you, even like this, and you have to look up slightly. she looks gorgeous, even more than she normally does: her eyelids are heavy, mouth agape and her chest is rising and falling rapidly. "y/n..." "hm?" her fingers wander lower and you gasp. "can...can i?" you smile softly and copy her motions, a singular finger toying at her entrance. her eyes widen slightly and somewhat of a whine comes past her lips. "please" you're both staring into the other's eye when she pushes her middle finger into you at the same time as you do the same for her. the moans that fall from your lips mix with hers, creating a sweet noise that echoes through the room. thank god you're home alone. "oh fuck, robin...robin..." you babble, your hips jerking forward over and over to chase the delicious feeling "more". robin withdraws her finger slowly, until only the very tip of it is still inside of your aching cunt and then pushes it right back inside you, adding a second one along. "oh my god" you cry out. you've never made such a noise when you were touching yourself. this is s much better than anything you have ever felt. robin's own walls seem to somehow tighten around your finger, which reminds you that you have that same effect on her. you curl your middle finger forward slightly and robin's eyes roll back in her head. "please" she whimpers "god- just like that- feels so so good fuck-" you thrust into her a couple of times until you add a second finger as well. robin, regardless of the fact that she is getting fucked this good by you, never stops the movements of her own fingers inside of your cunt. her fingers are longer than yours, just slightly but enough for you to feel the difference; she is reaching depths that you were never able to reach on your own. when she mirrors your motion and curls them up against that certain spot, you moan out her name loudly. the thrusts alone feel incredible but when she begins hitting your g-spot, it takes things to a whole new level of pleasure.

"k-kiss me" you mutter between moan and whimpers caused by her fingers. robin does as you asked her to, pulls you in so that your chests are bumping together and smashes her mouth of yours. the shyness from earlier is gone, replaced by want and lust for you. soon enough, your tongues are moving together in sync, lips meeting over and over again until they feel almost sore.

the combination of all of these things causes a knot to form in your lower abdomen. you know exactly what'll happen once this knot snaps and, truth be told, you can't wait to cum all over robin's fingers. but you also know it'll take just the slightest bit more for you to actually cum. "r-robin" you shudder when she leans back slightly. there's a string of saliva connecting your lips. part of you wants to be disgusted, but instead, it only turns you on. "can you- oh god, fuck-" it feels so good, you can hardly get the words out. "can you...rub my clit? please? i think- ah- i think i'm close" she listens to everything with a half-curious, half-lustfilled expression and nods. robin doesn't stop with the wonders, that her fingers are working inside of you though. she uses her thumb to find your clit, all while she is pumping her index- and middle finger into you, and rubs it gently, just like you asked her to. "holy shit- right there! right there!" you manage and your head falls back. your breathing becomes high-pitched and rapid and every muscle in your body is focused on what she is doing, on moving against her to chase your orgasm. robin seems to understand and starts rubbing your clit faster, adding pressure at the right points too. with that and the fact that she pulls you in again to squeeze your breast, robin pushes you closer and closer to the edge. you manage to find robin's clit with your thumb too, though it takes you slightly longer to do so but robin doesn't seem to mind, way too caught up in the way your digits curl up inside of her. "robin...fuck i- oh-" you can't even finish what you were gonna say, your whole body tenses up in pleasure and you feel your orgasm in each and every nerve. you sob out a moan that dies in your throat when everything becomes hot and you see stars from the pleasure. robin reaches her height shortly after and her body tenses up against yours, her eyes roll back and her fingers tighten in your skin. both of your thighs shake around the other's hand and you cum around her fingers, coating them in your release. when the wave of pleasure slowly fades, you open your eyes. robin is still recovering herself, but she has come down enough to watch you. a smile is toying along her lips. "holy shit" she breathes eventually. "yeah" you say with a lighthearted laugh. "did you- i mean- was that okay?" and you can hardly believe your own eyes but she blushes as if she hasn't just made you cum better and harder than ever. "that was more than okay robin, fuck" regardless of that fact, she sighs as if in relief. "would you- would you mind if- i- would you like to go out...? sometime?" despite your situation, you can't help yourself but laugh breathlessly. "robin buckley" you exclaim "are you asking me out on a date while you're still inside of me?" her eyes widen slightly, as if that part has already been forgotten and you laugh a little bit more. once you have both fully recovered, you lay her down on your bed and put your head on her shoulder and she links your fingers together. somehow, it is not odd at all. it's almost like it was always supposed to be like this. "so" she says after some time. "so" you repeat. "about earlier...i would really, really like to take you out on a date" you smile and tilt your head so you can look at her properly. "i would really, really like that too"

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x yn #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley smut #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #stranger things #stranger things x reader

524 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

You'll See Why (Peter Ballard x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Ballard x Female!Reader, implied Steve x Reader (Does not really factor into the story)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mostly just fluff and angst that doesn't require a content warning. General content warnings consistent with Stranger Things

Summary: It couldn't be him. She refused to believe it. Eleven had to be wrong, had to have the wrong person. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of something like this; in the back of her mind, she knew he was. More, it was that she didn't want to face what it meant about herself.

Masterlist. Ko-Fi.

There was a familiar face staring blankly up at her from the page… she knew this face.

“Well, he looks evil,” Steve mused, looking at the drawing over her shoulder.

“He was 001… He was the first. They built the lab to contain him.” Eleven explained.

(Y/n) was holding up the sketch Eleven had drawn of the patient from Hawkins Lab, who Eleven knew as 001, that Nancy had discovered was Henry, that they all called Vecna.

(Y/n) knew that face.

“(Y/n)?” Dustin touched her shoulder. “(Y/n), are you okay?”

She heard her brother’s voice talking to her, and yet somehow she didn’t register it. He felt, he sounded, so far away.

It felt like an out of body experience, like her thoughts were no longer contained inside her brain, like they were swirling around her in a cloud, consuming her entire world. This was not Henry Creel, could not be Vecna. Eleven had to be wrong. She knew this face, and she knew it all too well.

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

“Hi Peter, I see they let you out again. The usual?” (Y/n) smiled brightly.

Peter was her favorite regular at Benny’s, not that he was all that regular. He came in once every couple weeks or so. She assumed whenever the lab could spare him, though he always referred to it as a “reward” for good behavior. Benny’s menu was hardly “reward” worthy. It was decent. Benny was a good cook, but it was just regular diner food. She could think of four other diners in Hawkins that served the same fair, though Benny’s was certainly the closest to the ltab.

He wasn’t a particularly nice regular. He tipped very well, which she appreciated, but most regulars do or they wouldn’t be regulars anymore. Mostly, he was her favorite because he was an enigma. He worked for the Hawkins National Laboratory up the road, and he was very cagey about his work and himself.

“No coffee,” Peter amended without looking up from the papers in front of him.

(Y/n) scribbled haphazardly on the ticket and slid it across the window to put on deck for Benny. There were a couple tickets ahead of it, and that gave her extra time.

(Y/n) dragged the stool out from behind the register and plopped down directly in front of Peter, propping her elbows on the counter and looking at him expectantly.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept them trained on his work. This was (Y/n)’s usual routine any time Peter came into the diner, so he didn’t need to look up to know she was staring him down.

“Must you watch your customers so intently? I feel like a subject in the lab.”

“Only the interesting ones,” (Y/n) dismissed. “Now tell me; how’s the lab?”

Peter flipped over one of the pages mindlessly. He hadn’t processed all the words, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen if (Y/n) had anything to say about it. He kept up the appearance of reading though to hold her interrogations to a minimal. “It is in its usual state. I am nothing but a humble nurse for the children being experimented upon and tortured within its walls.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the kind of joke she would have made, but she let it slide. “Yes, of course, but how is your work?”

“Why would you care to know?” Peter dismissed the question.

“Because I’m bored, and like my brother always says life is a curiosity voyage.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Your brother sounds foolish.”

“Hey,” (Y/n) reached up and smacked Peter lightly on the side of the head, causing him to jolt. He stared at her in utter disbelief, as if no one had ever touched him before in his life, which she found very hard to believe. He was far too high and mighty, full of himself, not to have been bullied as a kid. “That’s my brother. Only I get to mess with him.”

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

Nonresponsive and zoned out was not a good thing to be in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986.

“She’s infected with Vecna!” Dustin began to panic, “Quick someone get my headphones from the desk,” Dustin pointed to the desk behind Max, who practically threw the headphones in her rush to get them to Steve as Dustin ran to the small shelf and began digging through Mike’s cassette tapes.

“No, no,” (Y/n) shook aside the memory as quickly as she could manage. “Dustin,” she called to her brother, “Really, I’m fine!”

“Like hell you are,” behind her, Steve forced the plastic strap of the headphones around her neck. “Seriously? How hard is it to find Pat Benatar!” Steve shouted.

“Again, I’m fine,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, wrenching the headphones off.

They couldn’t afford to waste a pair on her now. She could feel things coming to a head. Over the last 24 hours, virtually all of them had had to procure a pair of headphones and wrap them around their necks. Only Steve, Dustin, Eleven, and herself hadn’t heard the ticking of a clock at some point yet. A low drone of noise was filling the room as songs played from the necks of the other occupants.

“Really!” She insisted to the skeptical crowd of teens staring her down, “no ticking. I was just…” In addressing the room, her eyes found Eleven’s, “remembering something.”

Eleven’s eyes seemed to see right through her, and (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, wavering in whether revealing this information was a good idea or not. Everyone else in the room was staring at her, eyes darting now and again to Eleven.

It was too late to back out now. She took a breath and, watching Eleven’s face intently for her reaction, said the name.

“Peter Ballard.”

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

“Hi again Peter, I’ll put the usual on for you.” (Y/n) greeted him with a wave as he came through the door.

This time, when Peter walked in, Benny’s was empty except for herself and Benny. He had his usual folder full of papers tucked under his arm, stamped with the fancy Hawkins Lab’s seal on the cover declaring it was privileged information.

“Thank you,” Peter took up his usual counter seat.

He had a way of being both extraordinarily polite and also incredibly rude at the same time. It was like he had spent his entire life being lectured on manners without actually having a single social interaction in which to use them.

“Benny!” (Y/n) called loudly over the order window, “Peter’s usual!”

Benny was somewhere in the back. With the diner being empty, Benny had ducked out to rearrange the stock while he left (Y/n) to mind the front. “Give me just a minute!” She heard her boss shout back.

“So!” (Y/n) whipped around, leaning back against the order window, “Gonna tell me how work was today?”

“Tiresome.” Peter clipped.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “That’s about as descriptive as you’ve ever been. Was it coworkers or your human test subjects?” She said the last part teasingly.

Peter paused for a moment, still not looking up from his papers, but he seemed to consider her question longer than he usually would before dismissing her. “Boss.” Having answered, Peter immediately went back to flipping through pages, only adding under his breath, “Not that I would call him that, persay. He’s more like my worst nightmare.”

(Y/n) chuckled and approached, taking up her usual seat across from him. “Tell me about it. Last week, Benny didn’t let me off early on Friday even though it was my mom’s birthday, so my little brother recruited his friends to try to bake her birthday cake instead of waiting for me and almost lit my house on fire.”

The word fire seemed to catch Peter’s attention. He still didn’t give her the time of day or meet her eyes, still seemed to think that she was too beneath him for that, but his head did cock to one side. He was listening.

“What’s so nightmarish about your boss?”

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

“What do you mean you ‘know’ Vecna?” Dustin demanded.

“He came into Benny’s from time to time,” (Y/n) felt like she was retreating into her skin. Eleven, Mike, Eddie, Max, the whole room. They were all watching her with dark eyes, watching her like they were watching the enemy.

Dustin was staring at her in utter shock. He didn’t notice the looks from his friends or the fear in her eyes. He was still trying to comprehend this massive piece of information.

Only Steve’s hand, resting with a firm grip on her shoulder, was keeping her grounded in the room, keeping her from bolting out the door like a frightened deer.

“And you talked to him? You knew him?” Max joined the questioning, her tone far closer to interrogation than Dustin’s disbelieving one.

(Y/n) shrugged defensively, “Lots of people from the labs came in. We were the closest restaurant. He said he was a nurse. I didn’t know he was the literal devil.”

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

“Your boss sounds like a dick, no offense.”

“None taken.” Peter had talked to her. He had actually talked to her. Granted, they were complaining about their bosses, which was the oldest and most basic form of bonding in the book, but still. It was something. “He is.”

“Well,” (Y/n) hopped down from the seat she had taken on the counter while he recounted his tale of woe. “I’m gonna start cleaning up if it’s all the same to you.”

Peter waved his hand down the length of the counter and immediately reverted his eyes back to his papers that were off to the side of the plate he was presently eating off of.

(Y/n) smirked to herself as she pulled out her rag. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to keep poking at him till she got the answers she wanted.

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

It was Nancy who turned the whole scene into a proper interrogation. Though, perhaps given her profession, it was more of an interview. She waved the kids away from the seat in front of (Y/n) and took up a spot front and center in her vision.

“Tell us everything you know about him. Start from the beginning.”

(Y/n) took a breath and recited the facts as coldly and emotionlessly as she could manage. “His name was Peter Ballard. He came into the diner once every couple weeks. Everyone else from the lab came in groups, but he…” Her voice cracked for a moment, and she hoped everyone else in the room saw it as nothing more than the nerves it was, “He was always alone. He barely talked to me. The others said he was a nurse, and that he never talked to anyone in the lab either. He always brought files with him to read. It took months for him to even bother making eye contact with me.”

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

“You never went to a proper high school?”

“No,” Peter droned. He still acted thoroughly unamused with her presence, but he had started more readily answering her questions.

(Y/n) huffed and leaned back on her stool, tilting away from him. “Well, that explains so much.”

Peter’s eyes shot up from his paper, and for the first time he met her gaze. Not exactly an angry expression, but at the least a doubtful one, colored his face as his eyebrows drew together. “How?”

“Well,” she let the legs of her stool fall back on the floor with a crash as she leaned forward towards Peter, “Sure, you didn’t have to deal with assholes on the basketball team shoving you into lockers, or girls on the cheer squad making fun of your clothes. But you also never found a group of friends with the same niche interest as you, or a guy to bond with over your mutual hatred of some bully, or a cute girl who thought you were the cutest thing since God invented puppies.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

“No, I’m serious,” (Y/n) immediately dismissed his expression. “Sure, there are giant swathes of humanity that are the absolute worst, but there are some humans who are really great when you give them the chance. And you,” she poked a finger into his chest, “never did. You were aware that some people sucked, but you didn’t hang around long enough to find the ones that didn’t before you decided to write all of us off as intolerable.”

Peter pursed his lips and turned back to his files. He wasn’t going to continue this line of conversation.

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

“That’s really all I know, Nancy. I swear.” (Y/n) huffed.

“There has to be something though!” Nancy jumped up from her seat and began to pace, “It can’t be a coincidence that you knew him. Can it?”

“I didn’t know him,” She emphasized. “We didn’t exactly bare our souls to each other and get matching tattoos. We were friendly. He came in every couple weeks, ordered the same thing. Towards the end he started making small talk, but that was it. Small talk. He didn’t exactly spell out for me that he had dreams of becoming a mass murderer.”

“Yeah, but what are the odds that you would get wrapped up in all of this?” Jonathan pointed out. “It sounds like you’re the only person he talked to outside of the lab.”

“Pretty freakin’ high, Jonathan,” (Y/n) huffed. “If you haven’t noticed, Hawkins isn’t a metropolis. It’s a pretty small town, and weird shit keeps happening. We’re all wrapped up in it at this point.”

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

(Y/n) froze, staring at Peter as he approached his usual seat at the counter. She’d clocked him instantly when he walked in, and instantly had known something was very off.

He looked more or less the same, all white outfit, holier than thou expression. His hair was in its usual blonde waves, and he seemed more or less as agitated with his own existence as he usually did.

“H-Hey Peter, Usual?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yes, please,” Peter replied.

And in that moment she realized it. That moment when he sat there, still looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to put his order in. That moment when he didn’t look down.

No files.

(Y/n) rushed the order in to Benny and whirled back around to join Peter. There were a handful of other people in the diner, but they were all regulars who’d already gotten their food and knew their way around. She was completely unbothered with doing her rounds to their tables.

“Why no files?”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you the one who’s always bugging me to talk to you?”

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

“He’s not here,” Dustin dropped the flashlight back to his side with a huff.

They had gone to the Creel house again, hoping to find where in the Upside Down Vecna was. Now that they had Eleven, with her powers back no less, they wanted to lure him to a place they could face off against him.

“(Y/n),” Lucas called over the bannister from the second floor. “Did Vecna ever mention anywhere else he liked to go? Or somewhere else in Hawkins he felt connected to?”

“No!” (Y/n) shouted back with a huff, “If he’s not here he must be at the lab!”

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

“So?” (Y/n) smiled, “Thoughts?”

“It’s… cold.” Peter mused.

(Y/n) huffed and pulled back from where she was leaning on the counter. “That’s it? It’s cold? I thought you were going to actually help me? You know, useful feedback?”

Peter slowly pushed the mostly-full milkshake away from his plate. “I never agreed to help you. You only assumed I would when I came in.”

“Yeah! For a free milkshake!” (Y/n) threw her hands up, utterly exasperated with him, “You have to have more thoughts than ‘it’s cold’. I’m making Benny put milkshakes on the menu, and it’s my ass on the line if they aren’t good.”

“It’s sweet.” Peter added, picking up another fry and taking a bite.

“Ooooh! Thank you so much! That’s so much more helpful.” She bit back sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/n) snatched the milkshake away, slurping through Peter’s abandoned straw. She made a face, “Oh, ok… that is sweet.”

Peter didn’t meet her eyes, but he waved his hand and made a face that very much said ‘told-you-so’.

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

It didn’t look like anyone had been in the lab since Eleven closed the portal. The bodies had been cleaned up, no doubt by the military coverup team, but the broken glass in the screened in room surrounding the old portal was still strewn about the floor. Hopper’s gun Bob had left in the control room was still on the desk. There were even still spatters of blood every few feet along the walls and stains from dried up blood on the floors.

“So,” Robin murmured quietly to (Y/n), “This is what Round 2 looked like? Man I am so glad I just had the Russians.”

“It doesn’t look like he’s here either. Doesn’t even look like he’s been here at all. There’s no portal,” Will assessed, turning back to the room.

“Fuck!” Mike turned, kicking a wall. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He wasn’t at his old home. He wasn’t at the lab. He wasn’t at any of the places he’d opened portals that they knew about. (Y/n) was at a loss. There wasn’t anywhere else to look.

He must be hiding, hiding somewhere completely random with absolutely no connection to him. It was the logical thing to do if he didn’t want to be found, but it just didn’t make sense. Sure, Eleven said 001 was a creature completely void of any emotion, set to the singular purpose of restoring order to the world by ridding it of humanity.

But (Y/n) knew that wasn’t true. Hell, the Party should’ve known that wasn’t true. 001 had slaughtered an entire lab in an instant he was so blinded by rage, not even giving them the option to join them that he’d given Eleven. When he became Vecna and was sent to the Upside Down, the first place they knew he’d gone was home. Max had seen the disassembled pieces of the Creel house in Vecna’s inner hideout in the Upside Down. And Henry had talked to Nancy about her visit to his father, about how he’d vengefully plotted his demise.

Even the Peter (Y/n) knew was riddled with emotions, most of them negative, but still they were there. Even when he was putting on a neutral face, she always knew he detested humanity. He hated his job. He…

He’d teased her about her milkshakes, about how much she talked, about high school, about her brother. He’d…

(Y/n) bolted for the door. “Steve, get the keys! I know where he went!” She shouted.

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

“So why don’t you ever sit with them?” (Y/n) asked, nodding with her chin over Peter’s shoulder to the lab coats at the table behind him.

They weren’t literally wearing lab coats, but in her mind everyone who worked in a lab was supposed to be wearing a coat. So that’s what she called them. In actuality, they were all dressed almost exactly the same as Peter.

“I mean, I know you hate them, but even you have to get lonely sometimes.”

Peter picked up another fry and put it in his mouth, avoiding her question.

“There must be someone tolerable enough to eat lunch with.”

“I eat with you.” Peter told her, “Do I need someone else?”

(Y/n) felt her cheeks turn a little bit pink, and she tried to swallow it down. “Well no, but you must have friends. Someone at the lab? Or someone from when you were a kid? I know you were homeschooled, but still. Everyone needs friends.”

Peter snorted, and (Y/n) wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of him needing someone or at the idea of having a friend. “Well, I regret to inform you that I just have you.”

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

There was a portal, up against the wall of the diner, behind the counter right where she used to sit when she would talk to Peter.

“Dead on, (Y/n).” Steve patted her shoulder, joking, “He must’ve really liked the eggs.”

Grilled chicken with a side of fries and a coffee. Always the same food; didn’t matter what meal it was. (Y/n) didn’t bother to voice that though.

“It’s one of the basketball players,” Dustin pointed out.

A pair of broken, twisted out of shape, legs were sticking out from behind one of the couches the kids had dragged into Benny’s after it was deserted.

“It’s bigger…” Eleven murmured, taking a step forward towards the portal.

Mike caught her arm, pulling her back away from the portal.

(Y/n) didn’t join in, the banter or the analysis. She was staring at the portal.

It was right where she used to sit, literally right there. If Peter had been there, and she’d been in her usual spot talking to him, all she would’ve had to do was tip her stool back, like she always did, and she would’ve fallen straight into the Upside Down.

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

“You’re gonna fall over if you keep doing that,” Peter pointed down to the legs of her stool.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and continued to totter back and forth on the back legs of the stool. “Then I’ll knock my head in and get off work early, and you won’t have to put up with me. Sounds like a win for both of us.”

The front legs of the stool slammed to the ground, and (Y/n) stared wide-eyed, mouth ajar, at Peter.

Peter’s eyes had a fire to them she had never seen. There was something there, something behind his usual disinterested, annoyed expression. Something dangerous.

He had a vice-like grip on her wrist, and (Y/n) was positive that she was going to have a ringed bruise around the bone there in the morning from how tightly he held her and how hard he’d jerked her back forward. Her arm was stretched out across the width of the counter, practically touching his chest he’d jerked her so far back.

The shock in her face seemed to douse the fire in his. “Sorry,” Peter cleared his throat, dropping her wrist.

“N-No, it’s okay.” (Y/n) dismissed haphazardly. “Didn’t realize I was worrying you.”

Under his breath, so quietly she wasn’t quite sure she heard him right, Peter whispered, “Of course you worry me.”

“What was that?” (Y/n) asked.

“Nothing, just don’t want you dead on the floor. The hassle of finding another friend is unappealing.”

“Well,” (Y/n) smiled, though not as brightly this time as she usually did, “you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

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

Vecna.

A grey body, void of skin and hair and a face. Vine-like Tentacles protruding from his back, whipping back and forth in all directions as if they had a mind of their own, encircling the party, drawing them tighter and tighter into him.

She knew what Eleven told her, knew the story of how Vecna had come to be, but she just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t see Peter under there, inside the monster.

She couldn’t see Peter batting away Eleven with a vine, without a care in the world for her scream as she went flying back into a deadened tree.

Not Peter, not her Peter.

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

“I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. She’d been too absorbed in the math homework splayed across Benny’s counter to notice anything other than the mental image she’d been constructing of going to watch all of her friends graduate knowing she was going to have to repeat senior year.

“Oh Peter, I didn’t hear you come in. Usual?”

Peter sat down in front of her, which was not in his usual seat. “No, I only… I came here to talk, to apologize, and say goodbye.”

“Wait you’re leaving?” (Y/n) dropped the pencil from her hand. “Are they moving you out of the lab? What’s going on?”

“There’s been a… development. And soon my services will no longer be required.” Peter caught the pencil (Y/n) hadn’t heard rolling across the counter and carefully balanced it back in place in front of her textbook.

“W-Well, where are you going?” She tried, and failed miserably, to hide the disappointment from her tone, “I’m sure they have phones there. I’d hate to leave you with no one to pester you every week.”

“I can’t tell you.” Peter smiled, actually smiled. (Y/n) didn’t know if it was unnerving or endearing. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. She got the occasional snear, once in a while a smirk if she was particularly amusing that day. But he never smiled, certainly not like this, sad, disheartened, like he was sorry he had to go. “That’s why I came. I know I scared you last time I was here. I… I showed too much of myself, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Peter, you don’t have to apologize.” (Y/n) reached out, hesitantly and took his hand. “Not for being yourself at least.”

“Oh but I do.” Peter dismissed. Turning his hand over, Peter took hers in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe one day you’ll see why.”

And as easily as he slipped into her life, he was gone.

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

“Eddie,” She whispered from their hiding place behind the rock, “whatever happens, can you promise me something?”

“What?” Eddie whispered back to her.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment before she peeled herself away from the rocker’s side. “Hold Steve back.” Turning to Jonathan on her other side, she patted his arm. “And don’t let him and Dustin do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

(Y/n) was usually an anxious, hesitant person. She was an extrovert to the extreme, but she was also very risk averse. She was the type of girl who walked with her eyes on her own feet, and her arms brought in across her chest at all times. She didn’t exude surety or confidence ever. The three words her friends would use to describe her were skittish, excitable, and self-conscious. With Dart, Dustin had taken the lead trapping the monster in the cellar. In the Byer’s home, she had cowered behind Steve, from the demodogs and from Billy. In Starcourt, her brother had practically dragged her down to the Russian base. She had been the one driving the distraction car, all too happy to put distance between herself, Dustin, and Steve and the Mindflayer.

She was not fearless like Nancy or powerful like Eleven or a natural leader like Steve. In the face of monsters and spies and alternate dimensions, she was scared, like any normal person would be.

But this, she’d convinced herself, wasn’t a monster from an alternate dimension. A monster, maybe, but one she knew.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jonathan tried to grab at her arm, but she moved faster, ducking out of the way as she came running out from behind the rock.

Vecna was baring down on Eleven, standing in front of Lucas, Mike, and Dustin with her arms wide as she tried to push him back.

“(Y/n)!” The shout came from somewhere behind her, but she didn’t look back at Steve as she heard him running after her.

“PETER!” She came to a stop under him and shouted up into the air, at the body in the center of the mass of tentacles.

His head turned, slowly, towards her. “Peter, come down here!”

“(Y/n),” he said, seemingly to himself.

She should’ve been afraid, quaking in her boots afraid. But for once, she just couldn’t seem to manage it.

Somewhere in the distance she could hear Steve shouting, shouting at her, at Vecna, at Jonathan and Eddie for holding him back.

“Peter!” She called again.

The tentacles seemed to whip back and forth through the air, splaying themselves out flat on the ground and slowly encircling where she stood, as they lowered their master to the ground.

“NO!” Dustin tried to jump, but without instruction needed Lucas and Mike grabbed him and held him back.

“Peter, you don’t have to do this.”

“Peter is dead. Your friend,” he spat the word, “saw to that.”

“I know she put you here, but I don’t think Peter’s gone.” A tentacle slithered at the back of her heels, and (Y/n) took a step closer to Peter.

“You always had such idealistic notions.” He snarled, “This is what I am. Not Peter, this.” Two of the tentacles whipped out from the circle they had formed around (Y/n), and latched onto her wrists, wrenching her down to her knees.

(Y/n) shook her head, “I don’t believe that.”

The tentacles tightened around her wrist, and she bit back a whimper in disgust as they began wrapping themselves slowly up her arms.

“Society is a scourge (Y/n). The real curse is not me; it’s humanity.” Peter began walking towards her, the tentacles around her dragging her to meet him.

“Then why haven’t you cursed me? Killed me?” (Y/n) asked, “Everyone else has heard the clock ticking, Peter. But here I am.”

The tentacles were wrapping around her chest now, gluing her arms to her sides. Peter, Vecna, did not respond. He stood directly above her now, her bound defenseless at his feet.

“If Peter was dead then you wouldn’t be listening to me right now.”

One of the tentacles wrapped itself around her throat, but she didn’t feel it constricting her at all. It was like it didn’t know what to do.

“Let them go, Peter. They’re just kids. Scared, little kids like Henry used to be.”

Steve was still shouting and struggling with Jonathan and Eddie, and in her peripheral, it seemed Eleven had joined the boys in holding back Dustin.

“I’ll stay.” She whispered loud enough for only Peter to hear. “We’re friends right? I’ll stay here, with you. But you have to let them go. Leave them alone, leave Hawkins alone.”

Peter blinked. “You wouldn’t leave your brother.”

He sounded like Peter, the dark, raspy voice of Vecna was gone. He sounded young again; he sounded whole.

“I’ll leave him to protect him. Peter, you live in this place free of people and the society you hated, and it’s still not enough. You never wanted to be alone.” The grip the tentacles had on her was loosening, and (Y/n) tried to stand. The tentacles melted away as Peter saw what she wanted to do. “I’ll stay here, with you. You won’t be alone… But you have to let them go.”

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

“NO!” Dustin shoved forward and began pounding on the wall where to portal used to be. “No!”

His fingers tried digging into the wallpaper, into the wall. It had to be there; it couldn’t be gone. He could get back to her. They could save her.

The rest of the party watched in utter silence as Dustin scratched and clawed at the wall, trying to open the portal back to his sister.

No one tried to stop him, or intervene. They were all too stunned to speak, too stunned to move.

The only noise in the room was Dustin, screaming in despair at the wall, and Steve, quietly sobbing in the corner.

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

Note:

Thanks for reading! If you like this, please go read my Eddie Munson fic. I'd really appreciate it! I think it's even better than this one, and it meant a lot to me writing it. I look forward to knowing what you think!

#peter ballard #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x reader #vecna x reader #henry creel x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #peter ballard x you #peter ballard fluff #peter ballard angst #peter ballard fanfiction #peter ballard fanfic #vecna fanfiction #henry creel fanfiction #stranger things x you #steve harrington x reader #st4

4K notes · View notes