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holyblonded · 13 hours ago

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wartime | chasing sunshine

pairings: leah williamson x teen!reader, lionesses x teen!reader

summary: you and leah get into during camp leading to war

warnings: possible injuries

notes: this fic was in my drafts for so long, i forgot to post before nationals (got the dub btw) also this was inspired by the show baby daddy 😭

You had known Leah Williamson since you were nine years old. Back then, you were still the scrawny new kid at the Arsenal academy, tiny and wiry with oversized boots and a chip on your shoulder the size of London itself. You were a little loud, a little quiet, a little angry at the world—but even at that age, Leah saw something in you. Something sharp and fast and completely magnetic with a ball at your feet.

She took you under her wing almost immediately. Not in the showy, mentor-y way, but the quiet kind. She checked in on you between drills. Showed you how to hold your line tighter, how to time your tackles cleaner. Brought you extra protein bars when she noticed you skipped lunch too many times. Then, somewhere between weekend babysitting shifts and emergency school pickups, Leah went from being your big sister figure to your pseudo-mum, especially when your actual parents didn’t bother showing up.

So, naturally, you didn’t argue often—but when you did, it was apocalyptic. There had been yelling. Doors slamming. One time you drank the last of her favorite Earl Grey and didn’t say a word until after she came back from the shop with hopes of a perfect cup. Another time, you’d gotten into a fight at school and Leah had to come collect you early, again. By the time she got you home, her voice was gone from yelling and your pride was bruised from her disappointment.

Out of survival—and honestly, boredom—you created a system to keep the peace. A way to settle things.

The Williamson War.

It started out simple. Just you, Leah, and the rest of the Williamson clan. Jacob. David. Amanda acting as the designated referee. Challenges ranged from backyard obstacle courses to penalty shootouts to who could make the better beans on toast. But over time, the system caught on. Somehow, the Lionesses adopted it too, like it was part of the unspoken team constitution. If there was drama, or indecision, or just plain stubbornness between teammates—Williamson War it was.

So when you stormed into the St. George’s Park lounge after a light training session and heard raised voices—your voice and Leah’s—the team collectively groaned.

“Sunny,” Leah huffed, hands on her hips, “what aren’t you understanding about the situation?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That you think you get to control my life because you taught me how to do a proper throw-in when I was ten.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not five, Leah. I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m your captain.”

“You’re not my captain when it’s about my life!”

“Oh, for the love of—don’t you dare—”

But it was already too late. You plucked your cochlear implants off and held them up in the air like a victory trophy. “Can’t hear you, sorry!” you said cheerfully before dropping them into her outstretched, infuriated hand.

Leah narrowed her eyes and started signing, her hands sharp and aggressive.

“Put them back in. Now.”

You grinned and signed back, “Bite me.” Then promptly closed your eyes and leaned back into the couch like a gremlin entering a power nap.

“Unbelievable!” Leah shouted as Keira and Georgia appeared out of nowhere to drag her away like riot control. Meanwhile, Alessia and Grace rushed to you, snatched your implants from Leah’s hands, and re-attached them to your ears.

“Right,” Alessia said, sighing as your implants clicked on and the world returned to full volume. “What’s going on?”

“Leah thinks she can captain my life,” you spat, gesturing violently in Leah’s direction. She was across the room, fuming in a fleece pullover, arms folded with that stiff jaw clench you recognized from when she was really, really trying not to explode.

“Oh, do not!” she yelled back.

“Do so!”

“Okay, enough,” Alessia said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s all take a deep breath.”

“I’ll breathe when she breathes,” you said flatly, still glaring at Leah like she’d set your boots on fire.

Leah’s eyes blazed. “You know what?” she said, standing up tall, cracking her neck once. “Fine.”

She raised one hand high. “One, two—”

“Leah, be careful now,” Lucy said from her beanbag throne in the corner, eyes wide.

“Three, four—”

“Leah, it doesn’t have to come to this!” Keira begged, half-laughing, half-exhausted.

“I declare a Williamson War!”

Beth Mead gasped so loudly it echoed off the lounge walls. Georgia threw a hand over her mouth like she was witnessing treason.

Alessia and Grace looked at each other, wide-eyed, clearly wondering what they had just signed up for.

You stood up so fast your water bottle fell over.

“Five, six, seven, eight—winner decides the loser’s fate!” you yelled, pointing directly at Leah like you were in the middle of a WWE promo.

A chorus of groans echoed around the room.

Niamh turned to Millie with a confused squint. “What… is happening?”

Millie, who had clearly seen it all before, sighed like she’d just aged ten years. “It’s a Williamson War. Leah and Sunny invented it when Sunny was still at the academy. It’s how they settle literally everything.”

“How serious does it get?”

Millie deadpanned, “Last time they did this, Leah broke Sunny’s wrist in an overzealous three-legged race. 2021. Never forget.”

“Oh my god.”

Grace looked nervously between you and Leah, who were both now stretching like you were about to play in a final. “Have either of you ever considered, I don’t know, talking it out like emotionally stable adults?” she asked hopefully.

You and Leah answered in perfect harmony:

“Too late for that.”

“This is war.”

The field was set. Bibs had been thrown on. Cones had been dramatically slammed into the grass. A whiteboard stood nearby, scrawled with WILLIAMSON WAR SCOREBOARD in messy pink Expo marker handwriting (courtesy of Ella).

Sarina— who agreed to ref the “team bonding”— stood at midfield in full tracksuit, arms crossed, her face unreadable. Like this was a World Cup Final. Not a civil war between the Lionesses.

“Challenge One,” Sarina announced. “Crossbar Chaos. Spin twenty-eight times, then hit the crossbar sixteen times.”

Grace turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, we have to hit the crossbar sixteen times?”

“That’s Sunny’s age!” Alessia said brightly.

“Yeah but I’m not built like her!” Grace hissed.

“None of us are,” muttered Aggie, cracking her knuckles.

Across the way, Beth Mead was bouncing on her toes, already holding a ball, already chewing invisible gum, already way too amped for what should’ve been a joke.

Leah smirked from the sideline, arms folded. “We got this. Beth was born for chaos. She thrives in nonsense.”

You snorted from the other side. “Perfect. This game’s made for us.”

Round One: Aggie (Team Sunny) vs. Beth (Team Leah)

Beth and Aggie stepped to the line like it was a duel at high noon. Ella had a paper towel roll she was pretending was a mic.

“Ladies and gents!” she announced in her best ring announcer voice. “In the red corner, we have the Pride of Whitby, the Destroyer of Defenses, Queen of the Rebound—Beth Mad Mead!”

Beth winked at the imaginary crowd and blew kisses.

“And in the blue corner, Team Chaos’s silent killer, the low-key powerhouse, the human missile—Aggie Grim Reaper Jones!”

Aggie gave an unimpressed shrug and mumbled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You’ll spin twenty-eight times,” Sarina declared. “Then you may proceed to the shooting zone. Crossbar hits only count if the ball bounces back in bounds. No wild rebounding into Scotland.”

“Scotland doesn’t want your balls anyway!” Ella heckled.

“On your marks,” Sarina said.

Beth dropped into a squatting stance like a gremlin about to do a backflip.

“Get set.”

Aggie muttered, “My breakfast is going to come back to haunt me.”

“GO!”

Both girls began spinning. The count was on. Ella and Alessia were chanting the numbers like a cult. You and Leah stood behind their teammates, yelling advice that no one was hearing.

“SPIN FASTER, AGGIE!” You shouted, cupping your hands like a coach on the sideline.

“MORE COMMITMENT, MEADY!” Leah yelled. “YOU SPIN LIKE A WEAK FAN!”

At spin number 12, Beth wobbled sideways and screamed, “THE EARTH IS MELTING!”

Aggie tripped over her own foot and collapsed to one knee before popping back up with pure rage. “I’M FINE!”

“Keep going! 18! 19!” Alessia yelled, giggling uncontrollably.

By spin 25, both were a mess. Beth’s hair was flying. Aggie’s arms were flailing like she was swimming midair.

“TWENTY-EIGHT!” screamed Ella, practically frothing at the mouth.

Beth stumbled to the shooting zone like a drunk baby deer and whiffed her first attempt so hard it rolled backwards. “I HATE PHYSICS!”

Aggie’s first shot actually hit the crossbar—but ricocheted directly into Georgia’s shin on the sideline.

“OW! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!” Georgia yelped.

“GET IN BETH!” Lucy screamed. “THINK OF THE NORTHERN PRIDE!”

Beth attempted to stabilize, took a deep breath, then launched her second attempt… and hit the post.

“WRONG BAR!” You called out gleefully. “OPEN YOUR EYES, MEAD!”

Aggie scored again. Clink. One down. Fifteen to go.

Leah was now squatting like a football dad, muttering under her breath. “C’mon, Beth. Lock in. Visualize. Channel the Beth who scored against Chelsea. Channel the Beth who stole my last yogurt and lived.”

Beth finally hit one. Clink. She screamed like she’d just scored a penalty in the Euros.

Ella counted out loud, way too fast. “THAT’S TWO! OR SEVEN! I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!”

Aggie was at four. Then five. Then fell to the ground, dramatically holding her temple. “I’m gonna vom.”

You leaned over her. “No, you’re gonna win. Vom after.”

Beth hit her third bar and went full sprint into a celebratory dance that wasted precious time. Leah tackled her back into place. “Keep. Going.”

Alessia looked like she was crying from laughter. Grace was on the ground.

“FIFTEEN!” Ella roared at the top of her lungs.

Aggie scored the sixteenth bar. Sarina blew the whistle.

Team Sunny exploded. Ella tackled Aggie to the ground. You leapt into the air, nearly pulled a hamstring, and started yelling “GET DUNKED ON” at Leah.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Leah bellowed. “MEADY, I BELIEVED IN YOU.”

Beth flopped to the grass like she’d been assassinated. “My legs are noodles.”

Georgia sighed, still holding her shin. “This war is already a disaster.”

Sarina adjusted her stopwatch. “Team Sunny: 1. Team Leah: 0.”

Leah glared at you across the grass. “You got lucky.”

You gave her a two-finger salute. “I am lucky. I’m lucky you’re washed.”

Beth lifted her head from the grass. “Wow.”

You looked at her. “Love you, Beth.”

Beth muttered, “Rot.”

There was a certain energy to a nugget toss.

Maybe it was the smell—crispy, greasy, fresh out the team kitchen’s air fryer. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of elite professional athletes standing ten feet apart with chicken nuggets in hand, trying to yeet them into each other’s mouths. Maybe it was the fact that you were taking it way too seriously.

Either way, the sideline was packed. Ella was filming like it was her full-time job. Alessia and Aggie were doing warm-ups with ketchup packets. Beth was shouting unsolicited tips from behind a cone, as if she was the Gordon Ramsay of projectile poultry.

You were bouncing slightly on your toes, eyes sharp, laser-focused. Grace stood across from you, giggling like a kid at a fair.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked, holding a nugget like it was radioactive.

“We’re winning this,” you replied, cracking your neck. “Open wide.”

Across the pitch, Leah already looked stressed.

“Lucy, please, I’m begging you,” she muttered, watching as Lucy popped another nugget into her mouth before the game even started.

“I’m hungry!” Lucy defended through a mouthful of food. “They’re warm! I’m not wasting good nuggets on throwing!”

“You’re supposed to throw them!”

Lucy shrugged. “That’s not who I am as a person.”

Sarina stepped between the teams with her clipboard and whistle. She looked like she was reconsidering every choice that led her to this moment.

“Okay,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Rules. Each team has one tosser and one catcher. You get one point per successful mouth catch. Thirty seconds. No stepping over the cone. No spitting nuggets at the referee.”

Everyone looked at Georgia.

Georgia held up her hands. “That happened once.”

“Teams ready?”

“Born ready!” you shouted.

Leah glared at you. “You’re gonna choke on a nugget and I’m not helping you.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re invited to my funeral.”

“BEGIN!”

You launched your first nugget with surgical precision. Grace, bless her sweet soul, actually caught it with a startled yelp.

“ONE POINT!” Sarina called out, looking shocked.

Across the way, Lucy hurled a nugget so wildly it hit the side of Leah’s head.

“LUCY!”

“Oops.”

You threw your second. Grace fumbled it, but caught it on the bounce with her mouth and a squeal.

“Two points!” Sarina called.

Leah was now holding her arms out like a crossbar, fully bracing herself. “Try again. Aim low.”

Lucy tossed underhand this time, and Leah caught it… with her eye.

“OW! LUCY, THAT WAS A MEAT MISSILE!”

Meanwhile, you were on fire. Every toss was perfect. Grace caught one mid-laugh. One with her hands behind her back. One while spinning for no reason.

“Team Sunny is on SEVEN!” Sarina shouted, now genuinely enjoying herself.

Leah had caught one. Lucy had eaten five.

“I don’t even care if we lose,” Lucy said, chewing blissfully. “These are amazing. Compliments to the chef.”

“YOU ARE THE WORST TEAMMATE,” Leah bellowed, snatching the nugget bucket out of Lucy’s hands and tossing it behind her.

“Did you just THROW OUR AMMO?!” Lucy gasped.

Ella screamed from the sidelines, “YOU DON’T TOSS THE NUGGETS UNTIL YOU’RE READY TO WIN, LUCY!”

You wiped a fake tear. “It’s like watching a breakup in real time.”

Grace nearly fell over laughing.

“TEN SECONDS!” Sarina yelled.

You locked eyes with Grace. “Let’s go out with a bang!”

You tossed. She caught. Boom. You tossed again. It bounced off her nose, but she caught it on the rebound. Screams from the sideline.

Final toss. It flew like an arc of golden-battered glory. Grace caught it clean.

“AND THAT’S TIME!” Sarina blew her whistle.

Team Sunny: 10

Team Leah: 1

Lucy: 7 nuggets in her stomach, zero regrets

You and Grace celebrated like you’d won the Champions League. You jumped into her arms. She almost dropped you. Ella threw ketchup packets like confetti. Alessia was doubled over laughing.

Across the way, Leah dropped to her knees. “I hate chicken nuggets.”

Lucy patted her shoulder. “Don’t be mad. I’m full and happy. That’s what matters.”

Leah stared at her. “This is war. And you’re a double agent.”

Lucy smirked. “War tastes like poultry.”

Sarina marked another tally on the board. “Team Sunny leads two to zero.”

You blew Leah a kiss. “Better luck next time, Captain.”

She flipped you off without a word.

You grinned. The war was going very well.

There were many things the FA training facility was known for. World-class pitches. Premier rehab rooms. Tactical planning spaces.

It was not known for roller sports.

So naturally, it became the perfect arena for the next round of Williamson War.

The hallway, long, echoey, with fluorescent lighting that made everyone look like they were in a 2002 crime drama, was quickly turned into a battleground.

Traffic cones marked the boundaries. The vending machines at the far end stood ominously. Staff had been cleared from the area after someone (Georgia) sent out a mass text that read: “Clear the hallway. Death on wheels incoming.”

Ella and Alessia, once again, had their filming setup in full effect.

“Welcome back to WarWatch,” Ella whispered into her fake mic. “This episode: bruises, betrayal, and a coach casualty.”

You stood in your borrowed roller skates (which may or may not have been two sizes too big), adjusting your knee pads like this was life or death. Grace stood behind you with a water bottle and nervous laughter.

“I don’t know how to skate,” Grace muttered.

“Just pretend you’re escaping your childhood,” you replied, eyes narrowed.

Meanwhile, Leah was tying her laces like she was about to compete in the Olympics. She had that scary focused look—the kind she got before important matches or when someone took the last Yorkshire Gold tea bag.

“She’s fully in her villain arc,” Beth said, munching on popcorn from the sidelines.

Lucy was skating in little circles and nearly took out Keira twice. Georgia had been banned from the warm-up lap after trying to shoulder-check Alessia “as a test.”

Sarina stood at the starting line, clipboard in hand. Somehow, she had agreed to referee this again. Maybe she liked the chaos. Maybe she wanted a raise.

“All right,” Sarina sighed. “First to complete three laps of the hallway wins. No biting. No dragging your teammate by the ponytail. No crashing into staff—”

She paused. Looked at you directly.

You looked away innocently. “I’m an angel.”

Sarina didn’t look convinced.

“Three!” Sarina shouted.

“Two!”

Lucy screamed, “I’M GONNA DIE!”

“One—GO!”

Everyone took off like a bunch of wild toddlers with no center of gravity. Grace immediately screamed as she wobbled to one side, took Ella out like a bowling pin, and somehow ended up riding on Alessia’s back.

You managed to stay upright and build speed. The hallway zoomed by in a blur of polished floors, motivational posters, and confused physios peeking out of doors.

Leah—competitive demon that she is—skated like she’d been born on wheels. She was elbows out, teeth gritted, muttering under her breath like, “I will NOT lose to that child.”

You rounded the second lap and noticed the vending machine looming like a steel trap of death.

“Grace, MOVE!” you shouted.

Too late.

Grace skidded and crashed straight into the vending machine, causing a loud CLUNK and a rain of individually packaged biscuits to fall inside.

“Ow!” she cried. “But also… snacks.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie!” Ella called out from behind the camera.

Meanwhile, Lucy was skating backwards for no reason and rambling, “This is so much harder than Ibiza roller disco.”

“Focus, Lucy!” Leah shouted, speeding past her.

“Don’t tell me how to live!”

You pushed forward, legs burning, determined to cut off Leah at the final turn.

But just as you were rounding the last lap, a shadow appeared in front of you.

“Sarina?!”

She had stepped slightly into the hallway, checking her clipboard—at exactly the wrong moment.

“OH NO—” you shouted.

WHAM.

You collided full-speed into her, both of you tumbling to the ground. Her whistle flew through the air like a tiny sad rocket.

Gasps. Screams. Laughter. The sound of a vending machine spitting out one last KitKat.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!” you yelled, untangling yourself from her legs.

Sarina, flat on her back, blinked at the ceiling. “I see God.”

“‘He impressed?” you wheezed.

“No.”

Yet, Leah did not stop skating. Even as her team called out, “Leah, the coach is down!” Even as you lay there dramatically flopped over Sarina’s legs like a Victorian ghost.

Leah zoomed through her final lap, arms pumping, a single focus in her eyes: victory.

She skidded to a stop at the finish line, fists in the air.

“YES! I WON!” she yelled, chest heaving.

Lucy rolled up behind her. “Wait. Didn’t Sunny take out Sarina?”

Everyone turned to the coach.

Sarina raised one weary hand from the floor and wheezed, “I call… disqualification… for vehicular assault.”

You face-planted into the hallway floor in shame.

Grace, still trapped behind the vending machine, yelled, “It was worth it!”

FINAL SCORE

Team Sunny: 2

Team Leah: 1

Lucy helped Sarina up, only to nearly trip again. Ella zoomed in on Sarina’s unimpressed face. Alessia whispered, “This is so going in the team slideshow.”

Leah glared at you. “This isn’t over.”

You wiped dust off your knee pad. “It’s okay. I hear concussing the coach is trendy now.”

Sarina looked at both of you. “Next person to touch me on wheels runs laps for a month.”

The hallway was silent. Then Lucy whispered, “…Can I keep the skates?”

The final challenge had the atmosphere of a World Cup final—if that final involved cones, handstands, and deeply questionable strategy.

The pitch was sectioned off with plastic cones in a zigzagging maze. The only way to make it through? One person walks while a partner signed directions in British Sign Language (BSL). Then the navigator tagged the last teammate, who had to walk in a handstand across the finish line. But to make things interesting navigators had to wear giant, vision-warping, gag-store glasses. Imagine Elton John meets funhouse mirror.

“They look like cartoon flies,” Beth snorted as you and Leah strapped on your ridiculous eyewear.

Ella zoomed in with her phone.

“This is the highest level of football camp. Professionals. International caps. And they’re dressed like Pixar side characters.”

This was the Williamson War Final Showdown, and nothing had ever been more unserious yet more important.

Alessia pressed record on her phone.

“Ladies and gentlefolk, we bring you the dramatic conclusion of the dumbest series of competitions this camp has ever seen.”

She panned to the cone maze. “Obstacle course built by chaos. Starring: slightly concussed athletes and a very exhausted Sarina.”

Sarina, wearing a visor and sipping black coffee like it was tequila, gave a long-suffering sigh. “On my whistle. First team to cross the finish wins. You all know the rules. I can’t believe I have to say them out loud.”

Tooney leaned toward the camera. “You just know she’s texting the FA board like, ‘pls send help.’”

Leah is blinded. Keira signs. Georgia is warming up by walking on her hands like it’s casual.

Leah stood at the starting line, hands on hips. “Keira, if I run into something—”

“You will,” Keira replied. “Let’s just accept it now.”

“Confidence boost: zero,” Leah muttered and adjusted her glasses, blinking hard.

“Everything looks… bendy.”

“That’s the point,” Keira replied, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Follow my lead.”

“Just don’t sign ‘yeet yourself into a cone,’ okay?”

Georgia stood near the finish line, stretching out her wrists like she was about to perform at Cirque du Soleil.

Sarina raised her whistle. “Ready… go!”

Leah started off confidently. Then took one wobbly step, panicked, and immediately bumped into a cone.

“Oh my GOD, she’s down already,” Tooney cackled.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Leah huffed, reorienting herself. “Keira, sign clearer!”

“You need to look with your eyes,” Keira signed dramatically.

“I’M TRYING BUT EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE A MINECRAFT TEXTURE PACK.”

Despite it all, Leah somehow recovered. She started speed-walking through the cones like someone trying to power-walk away from a breakup.

Beth, eating crisps, muttered, “She’s terrifying when she’s determined.”

Keira was signing wildly now, turn, side step, forward, and Leah was locked in.

She tagged Georgia with flair.

Georgia popped up into a handstand like it was nothing. Everyone on the sidelines gasped. Someone (probably Grace) fainted.

She cartwheeled once, balanced perfectly, and began walking on her hands toward the line.

“She’s floating,” Aggie whispered, eyes wide.

Alessia said into the mic, “If you told me she was built in a lab, I’d believe it.”

Georgia crossed the line and flipped onto her feet, posing like an Olympic gymnast.

Sarina blew the whistle.

Team Leah: 1 minute, 50 seconds.

The girls cheered. Leah whipped off her glasses dramatically and threw them to the floor.

“Beat that, gremlin,” she said, pointing at you.

You stood at the start line with a tight jaw, arms crossed, bouncing on your toes.

From the sidelines, Alessia zoomed in. “Here we have Sunny, notoriously feral, about to trust someone else for once in her life.”

Tooney snorted. “Growth moment.”

You were bouncing on your toes in your own enormous bug-eyed glasses. “These make me feel like I’m in an aquarium.”

“You look like you live in one,” Leah muttered.

You ignored her and turned to Khiara. “Are you ready?”

“Born ready,” Khiara grinned. “Don’t get lost or I’m never letting you live it down.”

Michelle cracked her knuckles at the finish line. “I’ve been practicing this since Year 6 PE. Let’s go.”

Sarina blew her whistle. “Go!”

You squinted. The cones were blurry blobs. The maze looked like a video game from 2004.

But you trusted Khiara.

She started signing, “Right. Small step. Now straight. Side step.”

You nodded and followed her lead—carefully, precisely, only nearly tripping once.

Ella whispered to the camera, “She’s serious. This is prime goblin mode discipline.”

Then you stepped over a cone so smoothly that Keira clutched her chest like a proud mum.

Aggie yelled, “She’s doing the stanky leg, but like… on purpose!”

You reached Michelle and tagged her. “Your turn. Don’t mess this up!”

Michelle grinned. “Watch and learn.”

She flipped into a handstand like it was her natural form and walked forward with zero fear.

The crowd roared. Grace fanned herself. Lucy burst into spontaneous applause.

“Look at the control!” Aggie screamed.

Alessia screamed, “LOOK AT HER GO! SHE’S GRAVITY DEFYING! NASA’S JEALOUS!”

Michelle wobbled once, corrected, and then gracefully, crossed the finish line.

Tooney dropped her phone. “WE’VE BEEN SERVED.”

Sarina blew the whistle. “Team Sunny: 1 minute, 38 seconds. Team Sunny wins the Williamson War of 2025.”

You tore off your glasses and fist-pumped the air.

Leah dropped to her knees. “AGAIN?!”

“Victory is mine,” you whispered, grabbing the cone you tripped over and holding it like a trophy.

“Cone of destiny.”

Georgia clapped her on the back. “You were robbed.”

Lucy handed Leah a chicken nugget. “For your pain.”

Sarina walked off the field muttering, “I’m too old for this.”

Tooney wrapped things up. “That concludes the 2025 Williamson War. Final score—Team Sunny: 3, Team Leah: 1, Team Sarina: emotionally destroyed.”

Alessia added, “We now return to regularly scheduled Lioness programming… until next time.”

You looked at Leah, smug. “I already know your punishment.”

The punishment had been decided unanimously, quickly, and with diabolical precision. No polar plunges. No public serenades. No forfeiting dessert.

Leah had to call Amanda Williamson. Her mum. The original referee of the Williamson Wars. Also known as Sunny’s biggest fan and number one defender.

Amanda had banned Williamson Wars after the infamous 2021 incident, when Leah got over-competitive and broke 12-year-old Sunny’s wrist during a three-legged race on uneven grass.

Amanda had said, verbatim: “I see one more ‘War’ and you’ll be lucky if I let you lead a prayer circle, let alone a football team.”

So naturally, you freshly victorious and high on glory (and sugar), picked that as the punishment.

Back in your shared room, Leah sat at the edge of her bed, phone in hand, looking like she was waiting to be executed.

You were sprawled dramatically across your bed, slurping a Caprisun through a neon curly straw you’d brought “for the aesthetic.”

“Do I have to?” Leah groaned, already dialing.

“Yes,” you replied gleefully, leaning back against your pillow fortress. “Tell her everything. Start with, ‘Hi Mum, it’s your disappointment child.’”

Leah glared at you. “I should’ve made you eat peas as your punishment.”

“You tried. I won. Now call Mother Amanda, peasant.”

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

“Leah Cathrine Williamson.” Amanda didn’t even say hello. Her voice came through stern, crisp, and full of maternal judgment.

You snorted so hard you almost choked on your juice pouch.

“H-hi Mum,” Leah said, already wincing.

“Oh, don’t ‘hi Mum’ me. What did you do?”

Leah threw a hand in the air. “Why do you always assume I did something?!”

“Because whenever I get a call right after training, someone’s either injured, traumatized, or missing an eyebrow. Now speak.”

Leah groaned. “It was a Williamson War, okay? But like—low stakes. Mostly cones.”

Dead. Silence. Then Amanda exhaled. The kind of sigh that said ‘I carried you for nine months and this is how you repay me?’

“You what?”

“Technically Sunny participated too—”

You waved from your bed. “Hi Mum Amanda! I won!”

Amanda’s voice shifted instantly. “Oh, hi sweetheart! I’m so proud of you, my little champion! Did she feed you today?”

“Three times,” you said. “Plus a CapriSun.”

“Good girl. Now back to Leah—YOU STARTED ANOTHER WAR?!”

Leah groaned. “It was joint custody chaos! The kids needed entertainment!”

Amanda was not amused. “I banned Williamson Wars after you broke her wrist. BROKE. HER. WRIST.”

“It healed!” Leah said weakly. “Now it’s like a superhero wrist!”

“Leah Cathrine, I ought to fly there myself and drag you into retirement.”

You dramatically fake-gasped from the bed. “Tell her about the vending machine crash!”

“I will hit you,” Leah hissed.

Amanda did not miss a beat. “What vending machine crash?”

“She hit Sarina,” you whispered into the phone.

“WHAT?!”

“It was an accident!” Leah cried. “And Sarina lived! She walked it off!”

“You’re lucky she walked it off! I told you, no more Wars! And now you’re back at camp with the team acting like Wile E. Coyote on wheels!”

You collapsed in laughter. Leah had her face in her hands.

Amanda continued, not letting up for a second.

“I should call Sarina myself. Apologize on your behalf. And you”—she paused for dramatic effect—“are on punishment.”

Leah blinked. “I’m 28 years old.”

“You’re never too old for consequences. You are banned from leading anything, including lunch lines, until further notice.”

You applauded from your bed. “I’d like to submit a motion for a five-year ban on Williamson Wars.”

“Seconded,” Amanda said.

“Mum!” Leah whined.

“You’re lucky she’s not asking for a CPS case. Sunny is basically yours.”

You grinned. “Leah is my legal guardian.”

“I knew it,” Amanda muttered. “Should’ve tied her to a bench in 2020.”

Leah tossed her phone on the bed and fell back with a groan.

You picked it up sweetly. “Love you, Amanda!”

“Love you, darling. Keep her in line.”

“Always,” you replied with a salute, then ended the call.

Leah stared at the ceiling. “I should’ve just let you drink my tea back in 2017.”

You smiled, sipping the last of your juice. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

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alinathinkstoomuch · 15 hours ago

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EX-FACTOR

pairing: aaron hotchner x ex!reader summary: hotch swears he's listening to rossi, except he can’t focus on a single word when you’re at the bar with another guy, based on this request. warnings: hotch is turning greeeeen from jealousy!! pining, hotch just wants his baby back word count: 0.6k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Aaron was trying to listen to Rossi—really, he was. Something about a plot of land and investment potential and tax benefits or… God, he’d lost the thread ages ago. He nodded here and there, tossed out a half-hearted “yeah?” or “makes sense,” but his focus wasn’t anywhere near the conversation. Neither were his eyes.

They were glued to the crowd, more specifically to the gap in it. The spot where you used to be.

You’d disappeared ten minutes ago, and so had the guy who’d been flirting with you. Some twenty-something whose fingers grazed the side of your waist like he had any right to be even within six feet of you.

“And what exactly is your plan for tonight?” Rossi asked, swirling the last bit of his bourbon.

“What?”

“The staring? Gripping your glass like it can breathe?” Rossi lifted his brows. “What’s next? You going to challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m just watching,” Aaron muttered.

“Mmm,” Rossi said, which was Italian for you’re full of shit but I’m going to let you dig this hole a little deeper.

Aaron didn’t respond, his eyes doing their seventh sweep of the minute. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for the most, that you’d look back and catch him, or that the guy would spontaneously combust under the weight of his scowl. But for any of that to happen, he had to see where you were.

And he knew that he had no right. That it wasn’t his business anymore, that the only real authority he had over you these days was inside a briefing room with a suspect on the board. Because this? A bar, a night off, your clothes, your smile, a stranger’s hand on your waist? This wasn’t his jurisdiction. This was your playing field now. And Aaron was a benched sub who’d already had his shot and fumbled the pass, reduced to a spectator at best. A ghost, more likely.

“She’s allowed to dance, you know,” Rossi continued, not unkindly. “Even allowed to enjoy it.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

“Good,” Rossi said, far too breezily. “Maybe she even left with him. Can’t see her anywhere.”

Aaron’s head whipped towards the exit so fast, it stirred a breeze around him. For a moment his stomach dropped in that cold, involuntary way it did when something went wrong on a case as he considered the possibility that, maybe you did go home with him.

“I’m kidding,” Rossi chuckled. “Relax. She’s by the bar.”

And there you were. Using a stack of napkins to fan yourself, the golden lights catching on your exposed skin, the small specks of glitter scattered across your bare shoulders gracefully. He could still remember the caramel-like scent that came with it, relying on memory alone now, because he no longer had the right to be close enough to smell it again.

The lights shifted, dimming, then bleeding into a soft pink, the kind that made everything—you—look dreamlike. You gasped excitedly, grabbing Penelope’s arm where she stood beside you. She lit up just like you did, and Aaron didn’t even realise he was smiling until you were already pulling her towards the dance floor, placing a hand on the guy’s chest and yelling, “I’ll be back. This is our song!”

He hoped you wouldn’t be back, not to him, anyway. Not really. He hoped you’d stay somewhere close instead, just within reach, orbiting near enough for his eyes to find you and no one else’s.

He was grateful no one around had mind-reading abilities, because if you knew how often he thought about you, you’d probably never speak to him again. Or maybe you would. That was the thing about the two of you, the friendship had held, maybe too well. And maybe that was the problem.

Neither of you could move on.

“You’re torturing yourself,” Rossi said plainly.

Aaron didn’t look away. “I know.”

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xylatox · 1 day ago

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serenade || cbg

I have made it to Izzy’s fic hehe, im so excited to read this because the content interests me so much hihi! Anyways unto my thoughts :]

Okay to start this is freaking hilarious. I love Gyu being such a loverboy here but I genuinely feel so bad for him😭Also its so ironic that Kim Yuna is someone the mc doesnt like. I cant even fathom the sheer embarrassment Gyu is probably feeling

Maybe she isn’t a bad person, you can’t know that, but you know she cheats her way through exams every semester, that she’s got a few upper classmates wrapped around her finger enough for them to always get her into the front of the line at the cafeteria, that she has started the ‘pretty contest’ in her first year just so the guys could rate girls at school for their own pleasure, and that much was definitely enough for you to dislike her.

Oh I do not like people like that honestly, it is in fact (not really) a shame that she is that kind of person. Why was Gyu planning to do a whole serenade for her? The world may never know (or will it??)

Beomgyu is so darn cute here I cant even lie

His eyes meet yours and his cheeks immediately turn pink, making him avert his eyes again as he greets you back. You smile, hoping to make it somehow less awkward while telling him his total.

Like ugh the visual is so good ahhh

Your eyes soften a bit when you catch the blush hiding behind his glasses and messy hair, obviously still flustered. “I didn’t…did I wake you up?”

He is the cutest boy ever,truly

I will pass out. I love her manager and I really and truly love that I can feel the awkwardness of Beomgyu in literally every way.

“We’ve spoken twice,” he mumbles, blowing some air on his forehead to get his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t exactly know her, to be honest, but yeah, I do like her.”

Oh my god Beomgyu no D:

Beomgyu writing an entire song for a girl he only spoke to twice in insane Jesus. I also think its super cute how he probably rambles about his band like :(( hes such a cutiepie

“Thank you for liking my song. Possibly more than the person it was meant for.” Somehow, he doesn’t sound sad. In fact, it’s almost like he’s making fun of the situation now.

I am loving this band nerd Gyu agenda

Omg Taehyun hehe, I am loving that the mc already knows him that makes for an even cuter dynamic

You hiss, but instead of yelling at him, you confusedly watch his face turn redder and his eyes follow someone behind you. You carefully turn around, watching Yuna walk past to her usual table. You look at Beomgyu again, your eyes softening when you manage to read his eyes—broken, desperate, lost.

Oh hes so fucking cute I will cry, I wanna protect him and just keep him un my pocket

Izzy yknow what I love about this so far? That their friendship started so naturally after such an accident. I think its really cute in terms of the progression and Im so excited to see when exactly Beomgyu realizes he likes mc and same for her and her feelings towards Beomgyu. Like that shift anf what they do with it excites me.

Getting Minseo to meet up with you was actually easier than you expected. She did have a bunch of excuses at first, but after you told her you would buy her ice coffee and take care of the presentation fully on your own, she agreed.

Is it safe to assume that mc was already planning to do the entire presentation on her own?

Also it sucks to see what Yuna is into? Like I do not get why some of those things apply but ig shes just that type of girl.

“If you want my recommendation, Minho from the football team might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Jesus, this would line would kill a victorian child (me)

“Maybe you should try your luck with Yeonjun then, I’ve heard he likes virgins.”

Another like that would again kill a victorian child

“Looks like you’ve made a new friend. I didn’t know you were into gossip and all,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes. It’s crazy how quickly he got comfortable around you, turning from a mumbling and blushing mess to an annoying smartass.

I actually think its cute mc is going out of her comfort zone to help gyu ahhh, theyre kinda cute eventhough theyre just friends here

“I’m sure Yuna will like it,” the words come out broken but you’re not sure why. You do think she will like it. It’d be stupid of her not to. He looks amazing.

Oh my god it had started slightly I cannot deal with this

“I… you look amazing,” he compliments you, finally averting his eyes. His head falls low as he buttons his shirt, focusing on anything but how you look right now. He closes his eyes, trying to snap out of his thoughts, but the only thing he sees when he does is you again, standing right there with your innocent eyes and the clothes he picked up.

I will pass out they are genuinely so cute what

Im going to be gushing over them so much because why on earth are they so cute Izzy.

I also love that Beomgyu just genuinely enjoys her company and clearly has something else to do but chooses to spend time with her :( Also the subtle mutual interest despite working towards different goal for Beomgyu is so insane to me I cannot deal with this.

I have never seen 10 things I hate about you but for some reason my brain thought this was to all the boys I loved before (i have started and couldnt finish) and I was so confused as to why a 1999 film came up😭the way I havent seen most shows/ movies its honestly embarrassing of me

Its so cute he also met her parents?? Like I know theyre just friends but mc’s mom is so cute oh my god

You’re not sure what it is that had him running out of your room so quickly, but you know one thing—spending the day with him changed something.

Something you couldn’t quite name yet.

I will always love the way you end off a section. It brings me so much joy that it feels completed before we go on to the next part of the story

“This soup is really good,” Soobin interrupts and you’re not sure if he can’t read the room or just doesn’t care. Either way, Beomgyu glares at him, ignoring his comment completely.

This made me giggle out loud. I love Soobin like this.

I love that MC and Hee are friends from middle school, thats so cute ahh

“I’m not turning into an athlete,” he states, visibly exhausted. You chuckle. “You’d be good at it.” He shakes his head, still not opening his eyes. “Absolutely not. I think I have asthma.”

This feels a bit dramatic but its so cute ahhh

“Can’t you do something just for yourself and not her?” hanging dangerously on the tip of your tongue.

I feel mc’s sentiments. Like I get the aim is the girl in the end but part of me hopes he takes the entire thing just as a means to better himself and kinda just reevaluate his standing with regards to everything pertaining Yuna, but I guess hes blinded by her beauty :(

I also feel so bad for mc because we clearly see her feelings blossoming and she cant do anything about it. And to make matters worse, I think Beomgyu also has the same feeling but hes already to committed to making a move on Yuna, I feel like something big has to happen for the shift to occur.

It’s you, the girl he’s spent so much of his time with lately he can’t see a reality in which he doesn’t talk to you.

Hehe im so glad Gyu realized where his feelings lie eek!!!

No, all he can think about is how wrong it felt playing the song for her, and how much he wishes it was you sitting on the chair in front of him, laughing with them at the stupid jokes Kai made or the way he messed up the chords.

Because with you he doesn’t feel the same pressure as with Yuna.

With you, it just feels easy.

Oh Beomgyu really is just a cutie

I think its so cute that Kai is so excited for the party.

Also i think its so insane how Yuna moves when she actually talks to mc and its clear she doesnt care to even seemibly get to know her better despite the obvious fact that her and Beomgyu are friends; she doesnt care to even leave a good lasting impression which speaks volumes to her character and kind of shows who shallow she is honestly.

Minseo’s entire comment confused me I cant lie. Like she reminds me of some girls from my uni. I genuinely cant tell if she actually cares for the friendship or if shes just like painfully sarcastic and Im just failing to pick up the social cues

“Come on, we should go. Your mom will be worried,” he tries again and you shake your head. “I think she’s perfectly fine here,” Yeonjun interrupts him with a teasing smirk, leaning back in his seat. “Right, princess?” You nod, ignoring the nickname. “I’m sure her pretty little head can think for herself. And either way, there’s nothing to be worried about when she’s with us.”

Oh Yeonjun’s words just made the tension so much worse, but i absolutely love how Beomgyu is so caring and considerate when it comes to her getting home safely which is a complete opposite to Yeonjun’s encouraging behaviour of the bad habit. I am super glad that Beomgyu is persistent with MC going home and ugh it just shows how much he cares </3

Beomgyu grabs your hand before you can speak, pulling you up so you’re standing in front of him. You watch him confusedly, opening your mouth to argue with him and tell him you want to stay. However, he interrupts you before you can even do so, his empty hand cupping your cheek as he leans closer, pressing his lips against yours.

HELLO??? JUST LIKE THAT BEOMGYU??

IZZY. You are foul for making mc see that story of Beomgyu and Yuna after her hangover while she remembers the bloody kiss with Beomgyu oh my god

It hurts avoiding him, but it hurts even more seeing him.

Literally went “oh this line eats,” out loud LOL. Izzy girl i love your work.

As he regrets everything except for you.

Oh my god I cant do this

Beomgyu doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that it was he who insisted on having this practice or that he was a complete mess until now. There’s something more important to do at the moment than to drown himself in sadness. He has a song to write.

I genuinely love this Beomgyu so much ugh

I love that Hee and Jake are mcs friends honestly. Its so cute and ugh I just love a healthy friendship so much

Wait omg, the whole song dedicated to her, Beomgyu just pouring out his feelings oh my god??

“Hi,” he smiles as soon as he stands in front of you. You giggle again, hiding your face in your hands. “Hey.” Beomgyu holds your hands and brings them away so he can look at you, an annoyingly beautiful smile spread across his lips as he pulls you closer and connects your lips with his again.

Oh my god. This was the sweetest end ever. Izzy, again! I love your writing. Im so happy I finally got to read this. The progression of their relationship just makes me so happy. I really love that such a silly incident made them friends and just them enjoying each other’s company and slowly falling for each other is so comforting. Thank you for writing and sharing this!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

IN WHICH after waking up to a song playing outside of your window as if you were in a corny romance movie, you get to meet Choi Beomgyu, a boy so desperately in love that he drove across town to confess his love, just to find out he did so outside of the wrong house.

pairing– Choi Beomgyu x fem!reader

featuring– txt members, original characters, Heeseung and Jake of enhypen

genre– fluff, angst, suggestive — mature talks, topics, but no explicit smut

contains– band member!Beomgyu, nerd!Beomgyu, nerd!reader, school setting BUT EVERYONE IS OF AGE, reader works at a convenience store, Beomgyu has a crush on someone else at first, party + drinking on said party, reader lives with her parents, both parents mentioned, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, reader is able to play basketball, reader wearing a skirt, 10 things I hate about you mentions

word count– 18.2k

↪ izzy speaks... ahh my baby is finally here! I love writing fluff, it's how I was made to be—a girl that writes happy stories. I really think serenade is a cute one, and I'm so glad I decided to do it with Beomgyu, my love <3 I want to say thank you to Mae again for helping me with editing this, you saved my life <3 I also want to thank Adel—for always listening to my yaps about my stories and helping me sort out my thoughts. And everyone reading this. My stories happen because of y'all. :3

playlist | masterlist

It’s been a while since you’ve had a good night’s sleep. However, you knew that the moment your face hit the pillow and the exhaustion from the long week settled in, tonight was going to be the day. There was no need for you to wake up early tomorrow, and you were going to take advantage of that, ready to sleep throughout the entire morning.

But your plans on catching up onto your messed up sleep schedule fail once again when the guitar reaches your ears, stirring you awake. Then, the soft voice follows right after, making you rub your eyes with the back of your hand, glancing at the time on your phone. 8:12. There goes your dream of sleeping in.

You make it out of the bed, searching for where the sound is coming from. It couldn’t be your house, you’d have to own a guitar for that first. Once you reach your window and look outside to see a boy with a guitar, it all starts making sense.

Well actually, it makes even less sense.

You scan his figure, watching his brown hair fall in front of his eyes as he plays the instrument, a bike lying right beside his feet. You blink confusedly, listening to the soft melody you don’t recognize. And even though you can’t seem to wrap your head around why he is standing outside your house and singing a love song, it does sound amazing. His voice combined with the soft chords of the guitar warm your heart, causing you to open the window fully to see and hear better.

As soon as you do, his eyes lock with yours and he freezes. The song stops, his fingers stilled on the guitar strings as he scans your face, quickly looking around as if he was searching for someone. You both blink confusedly when your eyes meet again, trying to see what the hell is happening. He clears his throat first, awkwardly running his hand through his hair. “Is– Uhm, is Yuna here?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “Who?” You question, watching his cheeks turn red, probably from embarrassment. “Kim Yuna? I uhm, isn’t this her house?”

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Of course this poor boy is confessing his love under your window for a different girl. You don’t know him, obviously, but it still manages to hit. “Are you from Haneul Academy?” You scan him all over again, getting your answer in the form of a slight nod. You nod as well, everything falling in pieces together. Kim Yuna, the one person you despise. Yeah, she definitely doesn’t live in your house.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. She doesn’t even live on this street.” If his cheeks were red before, he doesn’t want to know what his face looks like now. It’s so utterly embarrassing. What was he even thinking about? Riding the bike with a guitar on his back on a Saturday morning to sing a love song for someone he wasn’t dating was already stupid enough, but this? This was terrible.

He moves around busily, grabbing his bike so quickly that his guitar almost breaks as it bumps into it. You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but you can’t find the right words. What are you supposed to say? Hey, it’s all good, at least you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of anyone else? You sigh, watching him get on his bike while mumbling soft, messy apologies without looking you in the eyes. He almost manages to fall off it when he fixes his guitar, but quickly gets himself back together, running away as if he’s just robbed a bank.

You watch him go from your bedroom window, your eyes softening just slightly. You feel bad for him, honestly. You’re sure he feels embarrassed, you would too, but a part of you thinks this might actually be better for him.

You know Yuna briefly. You’ve never talked to her outside of school, and even then, it was just when she wanted to borrow your notes before a test, but you still knew enough. A social butterfly with friends everywhere she looks, always around someone, no matter who it is. Her grades aren’t anything impressive, just average, and still, people seem to love her for a reason unknown to you. She’s pretty, you have to give her that, but you always believed in looking for more in a person, which leaves you confused on how it’s possible she is always dating someone.

You step away from the window, lingering for just a second before jumping into your bed again, your hands resting on your stomach as you stare at the ceiling, replaying the song in your head with a soft hum of the melody. You close your eyes shortly after, falling back into the dream realm, where you see the unknown boy again, singing a song only you could hear.

You regret signing up for an afternoon shift as soon as you step inside the store, your manager barely greeting you before running off, mumbling something about not being able to wait to get home and watch the football game. You settle behind the cash register, stretching your arms above your head.

It’s shortly after that the real work starts and you see customers walking in. It feels okay until people start asking you for help while you have a line at the cash register, trying your best to explain to them where they can find the product while scanning items of the person in front of you. They’re usually understanding, letting you do what you need and willing to wait a while, but there are also occasions where you get yelled at for being too slow or being a mess, making you clench your jaw. It’s not a hard job and it pays you good money, that’s why you like it so much, but people like that always make you want to quit.

Thankfully, it slows down before you can lose your mind and never come back. You breathe out in relief, sitting down in your chair and unlocking your phone. There’s ten minutes left before you can leave and you just pray no one else comes in. If you’re lucky, the manager gets here earlier and lets you leave even before your shift fully ends.

But of course, it’s not the manager that walks in. You raise your head and place your phone aside, your eyes widening when you see the same black zip up hoodie you did this morning. His hands are in his pockets, his feet leading him to a ramen alley before he can even notice you.

You watch him from your place, debating if it’s better to leave him alone and hope he doesn’t recognize you or approach him. Eventually, when he walks to the cash register to pay, you settle for the latter. “Hi,” you greet him awkwardly, scanning his cup of ramen. His eyes meet yours and his cheeks immediately turn pink, making him avert his eyes again as he greets you back. You smile, hoping to make it somehow less awkward while telling him his total. He places the exact amount in front of you and grabs his food, hesitating for a second. “I’m sorry, again,” he mumbles, raising his head again.

Your eyes soften a bit when you catch the blush hiding behind his glasses and messy hair, obviously still flustered. “I didn’t…did I wake you up?” He wonders when he remembers you standing in the window in your pajamas with your hair slightly ruffled from sleep. You shrug, putting the money away into the register before turning your head back to him. “Yeah but it’s fine, I wanted to wake up early anyway,” you lie so he doesn’t feel even worse, watching him hum in response.

“Can I, uhm, do you want anything from the store? Like coffee or ice cream? I…feel bad,” he admits, his eyes more sincere than you thought possible. You think about it, trying to see what the correct answer is, but when you figure there isn’t one, you just nod. “Coffee would be nice,” you agree, and before he can walk away to find a cup, you extend your hand towards him, your name slipping past your lips. He smiles, still awkward, as he shakes your hand, repeating your name inside his head to memorize it. “Choi Beomgyu.”

Your manager steps inside the store just as you collect the money for your coffee from Beomgyu. You smile at him, stepping out and making space for him at the register so he can lock it. It’s been around a year since you started working here and for some reason, he still doesn’t want you closing. At first, you found it weird, worried about what you did wrong, but then you learnt he is like that with every one of his part timers, no matter how long he’s known them for. His trust issues are bad, but honestly you can’t blame him. He’s just being careful.

Beomgyu stands on the side awkwardly, debating if this was his cue to leave. Your manager seems to catch onto that because his eyes flicker from him to you before sighing. “Yeah, you’re all good for today. Feel free to leave with your little boyfriend.” There were so many things wrong with the sentence, but you didn’t have a chance to correct him before Beomgyu hands you your drink, offering to walk you home since it’s dark outside.

You walk side by side, sipping on your coffee without a single word. You’re not sure if he minds or not. With his hands in his pockets again and his eyes glued to the ground beneath his feet, it’s hard to tell. “You don’t have to walk me home,” you mumble, making him look up. “It’s okay. I know where you live now anyway,” he jokes, but his laugh doesn’t sound entirely convincing, more like regretting.

“How did you end up there?” You wonder, watching the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. You narrow your eyes, trying your best to read him. “I’ve got the address from one of Yuna’s friends—Jia. I asked her for it last week, I doubt she moved out in the last few days and you started living there instead, though.” He kicks a few rocks on the ground and you nod. “Lived there my whole life,” you let him know and he hums. “I was stupid,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like it’s something he expected deep down.

You’re not sure what to say or do. People never have a right or wrong answer, but most of the time, you can still tell what they expect from you or what they want to hear by the tone of their voice, by the way they stand, or any other body language. Beomgyu doesn’t give you any clues, though.

“Do you…like her a lot?” You ask instead, the words feeling sour on your lips. He seems to think for a second, weighing his pros and cons. “We’ve spoken twice,” he mumbles, blowing some air on his forehead to get his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t exactly know her, to be honest, but yeah, I do like her.”

“Why?” The question comes out more judging than you’d want it to but either he doesn’t notice, or simply doesn’t care. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “She was nice when we spoke. It surprised me. I never expected a girl like her to look my way, let alone ask me about music and when our performances are.”

“A girl like what?” You frown, quickly masking it by taking another sip. “A pretty girl,” he says casually, and when he senses you quiet down, his eyes widen, quickly shaking his hands in the air to correct himself. “Which isn’t supposed to mean that the girls that do talk to me normally are ugly. Not that many girls talk to me. I– uhm– I think everyone is pretty, in their own way. She just is kind of out of my league, you know? And that makes me even stupider for thinking there would be a chance but–”

“Calm down,” you interrupt his panicking, a snicker escaping your lips. He’s blushing again and it’s honestly kind of cute. “If you think you’re stupid, then you probably have a chance with her, she likes that kind.” He rolls his eyes at your comment, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, making your lips curl up into a smile. You’re glad he understands a joke and doesn’t attack you immediately—which is something you’re sure all of the boys she keeps around herself would do.

“Sorry for the rambling. I don’t exactly know how you’re supposed to talk to girls,” he admits, making you chuckle. You let the conversation settle into a comfortable silence again, thinking about everything he’s said until now. The longer you spend with him, the less he makes sense to you. He’s nice, calm, quiet, innocent and pure, so why does he look at someone like Yuna? You can’t wrap your head around it. There’s a specific type of guys she’s dated, from what you observed, always the exact opposite of what Beomgyu is.

“The song is really nice by the way,” you proclaim, finishing your drink. “What song?” He asks confusedly, processing your sentence for a second before he connects the dots, his eyes widening. “It’s cringe,” he corrects you, averting his eyes again in embarrassment. “Do you really think that?” — “Yeah,” he nods, but you don’t believe him. To you, it seems more like he’s building up a wall in case you were going to agree, change your mind and say it’s the worst song you’ve ever heard.

“Well, I think it’s really good,” you assure him. “It’s been playing on repeat in my head.”

“Really?” He blinks hopefully, your smile widening as you nod. “Yeah. You wrote it, right?”

“I did,” he agrees, biting back his smile. “It’s stupid, though, isn’t it? Writing a song for a girl that I know will reject me.”

“You keep saying that you’re stupid and that what you do is stupid,” you mumble, shaking your head slightly. “But I don’t think that’s right.” He seems caught off guard by your words, struggling to find the right answer.

“I’m not stupid,” he says finally, tilting his head slightly with a sigh. “But I make decisions like that, sometimes.”

“You think liking her is one of them?” He doesn’t even rethink his answer before nodding, mumbling something about a hierarchy in popularity and the slim chances of her liking him back. When you ask why he decided to confess then, if he’s so sure he doesn’t have any chances with her, he tells you about how his friends boosted his ego the night before and he ended up believing in himself more. You listen closely, thinking about how it’d feel to be in his position.

After learning about Beomgyu’s crush and the way he sees Yuna, you naturally shift the conversation to something lighter, something that you’ve been wondering about and you know he won’t mind talking about—music.

He tells you about his band, the process behind his song writing and how he got into music at first, making you smile as you listen to his story on your way home. Honestly, you could have been home at least ten minutes ago, but for some reason, you didn’t want to leave. You enjoy talking to him, seeing his viewpoint on certain stuff and listening to his soft voice, making you take a longer route just to be with him longer.

You don’t think he minds, his laugh and stories making you think he likes being around you just as much as you do.

Once you do finally reach your house, Beomgyu stops mid step, smiling awkwardly again as he stands in the exact same place he did this morning. You smile back at him, glancing at the house, the soft light in the living room window letting you know your parents are there. “Thank you for the coffee.” He shakes his head slightly, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “Thank you for liking my song. Possibly more than the person it was meant for.” Somehow, he doesn’t sound sad. In fact, it’s almost like he’s making fun of the situation now.

“Good night, Beomgyu,” you smile gently, his lips forming the same grin. “Good night.”

You feel exhausted by the time lunch comes around on monday, the lack of sleep from the previous night finally getting to you. Still, it feels worth it when you know it helped you do well on today’s tests. Sometimes, you question if it’s really necessary to do all this for some grades, but after another success, your worries wash off and everything makes sense again.

You walk through the full cafeteria, looking for a table to sit at, when your eyes fall to a familiar face, his lips turning into a soft smile when he notices you. You smile back at him but don’t move, still trying to find a table—preferably one that is empty. You’re not sure what Beomgyu’s smile means, if it’s an invitation to sit with him and his friend, but you don’t want to risk the embarrassment if it’s not.

But no matter how closely you look, you find nothing, your feet slowly bringing you to his table anyway. “Mind if I sit here?” You ask carefully and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate moving to create space for you. You slide beside him, smiling awkwardly as a form of gratitude. “Sorry for interrupting– Taehyun?” You blink when your eyes land on the boy opposite you, recognizing him from one of the math competitions the school held just a few weeks ago. He greets you warmly, even though the confusion in his voice is obvious.

“Oh, wait,” his eyes widen in realization, flickering between you and Beomgyu. “Are you the girl he ambushed?” — “I didn’t ambush anyone!” Beomgyu argues immediately, his cheeks turning red after realizing how loud he must have been just now. “Of course not,” Taehyun scoffs. “You just sang a love song–”

“Alright, shut up,” Beomgyu interrupts him, glancing at you apologetically. You shake your head with a light chuckle, brushing it off. “I’ve already told you it’s fine.”

“He’s lucky it was you, honestly,” Taehyun comments between bites. You raise an eyebrow, blinking confusedly. He simply shrugs, “There are hundreds of students here, if Jia gave him the address of, like Minseo, a video of him would be trending all over the internet by now, and he’ll never have a chance again.” Beomgyu buries his head in the table, practically hiding under it with a groan as his friend continues embarrassing him. You do think he has a point, though. Meeting you was definitely on the lower side of all the embarrassing scenarios that could have happened.

“You both seriously need to shut up before the whole school finds out,” Beomgyu grumbles, looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on you. You shake your head, opening your mouth to tease him further, but before you can, he kicks you under the table. You hiss, but instead of yelling at him, you confusedly watch his face turn redder and his eyes follow someone behind you. You carefully turn around, watching Yuna walk past to her usual table. You look at Beomgyu again, your eyes softening when you manage to read his eyes—broken, desperate, lost.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips when she disappears from his sight, his eyes focusing on you and Taehyun again. You both give him a knowing look that he doesn’t seem to understand. “What? I’m just… I was looking for Soobin!” He comes up with an excuse quickly, making Taehyun scoff. “I completely forgot he doesn’t have lunch for another hour.”

“Right, as if.” Beomgyu closes his mouth again, knowing arguing with him is pointless. Beomgyu knew he was smart, always on top of the class, but Taehyun was on a different level. It was no use trying to outsmart him.

You hesitate, rethinking the situation again before finally placing down your utensils, turning to face Beomgyu. “I’ll help you,” you state, his eyes scanning your face confusedly. “With?” — “With your crush.”

He doesn’t have time to ask you what you mean before you continue, the confidence in your voice scaring him slightly. “I think there is a chance for you. We just have to work on some things.”

“Like?” Taehyun urges, the tone of his voice giving away that he doesn’t believe in what you’ve planned. “Getting him into things she likes,” you say confidently. “If they have more things in common, it’ll be easier for them to talk, ergo he needs to find out what she likes and then apply it to himself. Think of it like a test. If you prepare well enough, you won’t need to worry about failing.”

When you put it that way, Beomgyu doesn’t think it’s completely impossible. And even though you can see Taehyun doesn’t agree, as long as Beomgyu does, you can be useful. “I have a group project with Minseo,” you inform them, frowning slightly at the thought. Group projects were never something you loved, especially if you were paired with people who didn’t care about their grades. On the very first day it was assigned, you asked Minseo when she was free to research information and she straight up asked you to do it on your own, mumbling something about her head hurting every time she thinks for too long.

You hated being paired up with her, but it could be useful now at least. “I can figure out what Yuna likes through her. It won’t be too hard.” The hard part will be convincing her to meet with you. But once you do, you’re certain to get the information out of her. After all, she’s always been known to be an open book.

“Good luck with that,” Taehyun shakes his head, getting up. “Don’t turn him into a completely different person in the process, I’d hate to be his friend if he turns into one of the football jocks she seems to be dating all the time.” Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention, barely mumbling a bye back as his eyes find Yuna again, watching her laugh with her group of friends a few tables away.

“Let’s do it,” he agrees, turning his head to you again. “Let’s try what we can.”

So now, you were sitting in a campus café, waiting for her arrival with Beomgyu a few tables away. You told him you would handle it alone, but he insisted, saying that he needed to know immediately. You didn’t see a point in arguing with him, letting him tag along if that was what he wanted to do. You could see that he was nervous, fidgeting with his fingers on top of the table. Seeing him like this was what made you want to help. Because even though you couldn’t say you would wish Beomgyu someone like Yuna, you do think he deserves to be loved just like everyone else. Who he chooses to be loved by is not for you to decide.

It is Friday now, almost two weeks since you’ve met him for the first time. You’ve learnt that he isn’t as shy as you thought he was at first when he started greeting you in the hallways as if you were friends for years, inviting you to sit with him, Taehyun, and occasionally Soobin every day for lunch. He was nice, and whenever he talked about his music like it was the love of his life, you found yourself smiling, listening to every word.

You sip on your coffee, eyes locked onto the iced latte opposite you. She was five minutes late already. Taking out your phone to text her and ask her if she is on her way, you notice a different message, from no one else but Beomgyu. You look his way, telling him to shut up with your eyes. He’s telling you to sit still and hold on for a while longer, reminding you that girls like Minseo don’t care about other people enough to be on time but will always show up eventually. You can see that he’s worried you might just get up and leave and this whole plan would go to vain, and you hate that he can read you so well because that’s exactly what you wanted to do.

You sigh, putting your phone face down on the table and staring a hole into the café door, waiting for your project partner to show up.

When she finally turns up, your coffee cup is almost empty. You watch her walk in with a smile on her face, one so fake you want to pretend it’s not directed at you. But she sits down on the chair opposite you and you can’t pretend she’s not there with you anymore. “Hey,” you offer a soft greeting that she brushes off, taking a sip of her latte. “This is good, is that vanilla?” She wonders, watching the glass with amusement. “I– yeah,” you blink. “You asked for vanilla when we talked yesterday.”

“Right,” she nods, narrowing her eyes at you as if she was trying to remember who you were. It was annoying. “Why am I here actually?” Minseo tilts her head slightly, a small gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s weird talking to her like this, even more so knowing that the first real interaction you have with her is being watched by someone who believes in you more than he probably should.

“I wrote the paper and I know your head hurts when you study for too long, but I just need you to read it to have a general idea of what it’s about and sign yourself under it so we can say you contributed to the work,” you explain just like you prepared earlier with the guys at lunch. She hums, not saying anything in protest as you hand her the two pieces of paper. You can see the disgust in her face but as long as she doesn’t say anything, you won’t either. That’s not really why you’re there anyway.

You start the conversation slowly, asking her about a boy from the basketball team you heard she’s been seeing. At first, you were worried it wouldn’t work, that she would think you were weird for asking her about things like this as that’s what you would do if a stranger asked you about your personal life, but she casually starts answering your questions, the excitement in her voice when she has an excuse to stop reading the paper obvious.

You don’t have to do much as she naturally shifts the conversation from herself to the other girls, gossip falling off her lips like it’s her second nature. You must say, you never heard so many disturbing things about people you didn’t know before.

As soon as she mentions Yuna and her obsession with athletes, your ears perk up. “Oh really? I didn’t know her type was that simple,” you comment casually and Minseo takes a sip of her coffee, the paper long out of her hands, laying untouched right beside her cup. “Oh no, athletes aren’t the only thing she is into. You know Jinho from the swimming team? He definitely wouldn’t make the cut,” she shakes her head like it’s the most obvious fact. You frown slightly, trying to remember him. When you realize you can’t put a face to the name, you figure that’s why he doesn’t fall under her type. She doesn’t like people whose names others don’t know.

“It’s someone like Yeonjun that she’d kill for. She’s been trying to get him ever since our first year. Weirdly enough, he isn’t interested.” Yeonjun is a name you do recognize. A star of every party that mattered, someone who was always surrounded by other people, just like Yuna. If it was by choice or not wasn’t your business. He was handsome, you could see why girls would like him, but he wasn’t your type. You’d much rather have someone who could solve a math problem than a guy who could drink a bottle of beer upside down.

“I see,” you hum. “So what would you say her type is?” It’s a simple question, that’s what it’s meant to be, but to your surprise, it’s also a question Minseo could talk about for hours. Hadn’t you known better, you would think she was still talking about herself. “She loves fashion, you know? Like there’s something so hot about a guy that can dress,” she says, looking around the café quickly. “See? That guy right there. It’s so hot,” she points at a guy in his twenties ordering a drink, waving with an innocent smile when he notices her. He looks flustered.

Even though you don’t want to admit it, you must say she is right. The rolled up sleeves of his button up that reveal his forearms are hot. You shake your head to snap out of your thoughts quickly and take a proper look at what he’s wearing. It’s the opposite of what Beomgyu has on himself right now. Yet, it’s not something you think he wouldn’t be able to pull.

“Oh! And him!” She whisper-yells, pointing at another guy who just walked in. When you see the black shirt and gray sweatpants he has on, you roll your eyes slightly. In his case, it’s definitely not the clothes she is attracted to but the muscles beneath them. “What else is there?”

Minseo thinks for a second, finally averting her eyes from the unknown boy and looking back at you. “Someone popular,” she states the obvious. “Who has connections, and like a bunch of followers.” You fight the urge to scoff at the simplicity of the girl. You weren’t exactly expecting her to say someone nice and kind, but a part of you still had hope until now. “He also needs to go to parties with her, you know her,” she laughs. It’s the same laugh she always gives her friends at lunch and it makes you think if she’s always this fast at befriending people. If that’s what you can call whatever this is.

“I was so surprised when she told me this, but apparently she also likes when guys get soft or whatever. She talked about emotions so much it made my head spin. She said a soft but popular guy like in the movies would be the best combination. I don’t necessarily agree though, I like them without all the emotions and shit.” — “What about you?” She tilts her head and you quickly blink in shock to make sure you’ve heard her right. “Is there anyone I could help you with?” Her smile widens at the idea, leaning closer to you. “If you want my recommendation, Minho from the football team might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Your cheeks flush and you quickly shake your head to stop her. “I think– I think I’m good. I don’t really, uhm,” you avert your eyes, glancing over to Beomgyu for a brief second to see if he was still watching. Thankfully, your eyes don’t meet as he is busy texting someone on his phone. “Oh my, are you a virgin?” That question caught you off guard even more, your eyes widening. When your eyes shoot back to hers, it's enough of an answer for her. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there,” she laughs, but to your surprise it doesn’t sound like she’s laughing at you. “Maybe you should try your luck with Yeonjun then, I’ve heard he likes virgins.”

“I see,” you nod, your voice shaking slightly. It’s embarrassing. This whole conversation, sitting there in front of her and talking about things like these. “But what did you say your type was again? Maybe I know someone better.”

You open your mouth to answer and then close it again. You’re not sure what she wants you to say, if she expects an honest answer, if she wants you to say athletes just so you could fit into her group, or if she simply wants to make fun of you and there’s no right or wrong answer.

After giving it a second thought, you open your mouth again. “I like kind people. Ones you don’t have to worry will judge you or make fun of you. I like when they are able to hold a meaningful conversation and have their own opinions on stuff,” you says, searching her face for any sign of not liking where you were going with this. When you don’t find anything, certain that she’s still listening, you continue. “I also like when guys aren’t scared to show their girl off, I think that’s very cute—when a guy proudly talks about his girlfriend.”

“I see, you’re one of those,” she giggles, leaning back in her chair. “How about looks?” You think about it for a second but then just shake your head. “Someone taller than me, I guess? I don’t know.” She shakes her head as well, but her smile never falls off. “I like you,” she proclaims, your surprise turning into a soft giggle when she messes up your name. Still, it’s something. “It’s bad you never attend any parties, you’re not only smart but also nice to talk to. Do you drink?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” you nod and her smile widens. “You should come to my party then. I haven’t told anyone about it yet but I want to do one next month, make sure you’re free. The girls and I can help you find someone, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick one of the guys there.” You don’t refuse her, you don’t say anything really. You’re not sure what you should say. So you just nod slightly, figuring that she’ll probably forget about this in a few days anyway.

She stretches her arms above her head, her yawn informing you that this was the end of her attention span. “This was really great,” your name is still a mess, but it’s closer this time, making you think that the next time you see her she might actually get it right. “But I should go now. The paper, uh, looks awesome.” You smile, nodding even though you know she hasn’t read a single word of it. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to in the first place.

Minseo get’s up from her chair, giving you one last smile—one way less fake than the one you received when she came in—before walking off. You sigh, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. When you open them again, the chair opposite you is occupied again. “God, since when do you walk like a ghost?” You ask, exhaling sharply. Beomgyu chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend. I didn’t know you were into gossip and all,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes. It’s crazy how quickly he got comfortable around you, turning from a mumbling and blushing mess to an annoying smartass.

“Don’t laugh too much, the work starts now. We need to buy you new clothes.”

Your eyes scan the rack of clothing in front of you, searching for what might suit Yuna’s style. If it was up to you, what Beomgyu was wearing now would be ideal. You shake your head at yourself, picking up a dark blue jacket you’re sure you’ve seen Yeonjun wear in a different color.

You turn around to show the piece to Beomgyu, seeing him holding up a pair of jeans himself. You narrow your eyes. “It’s the same one you’re wearing right now,” you point out and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I like my jeans, why not buy another pair if I’m comfortable in them?” He’s right, you can’t argue with that. You sigh, brushing it off and handing him the jacket for him to try on. He takes it without another word, looking around and browsing for more. You do the same, leaving him to do his thing while you go look through the other side of the store.

You walk around, trying to figure out what could look good. You’re not sure honestly, and the more time you spend at the store, the more you question if you’re fit to be the person helping him. You had your own style that you liked and didn’t care if others found it stylish or not, barely keeping up with the latest trends unlike Yuna. At the end of the day, you and her were the complete opposites, so how were you supposed to get him to fit her style?

When you meet Beomgyu again near the changing rooms, his hands are full. You smile, glad that he found it so easy picking out something that would fit both his and Yuna’s preferences. It’s only when you sit down and watch him come out in the first outfit that you realize he didn’t even try picking up clothes that weren’t in his usual style.

“This is nice, right?” He asks, doing a small spin so you can see. Baggy, ripped jeans and a comfortable hoodie. You scan his outfit, raising your eyebrow. It did look nice. It was similar to what he wore normally — except for the backwards cap on his head — so you couldn’t say you wouldn’t like it, the opposite actually.

For some reason, he looked different standing in front of you now. It wasn’t the same boy you’ve met outside of your house, it wasn’t the boy that walked you home from work the same night and talked about a girl he likes, it wasn’t even the same boy that you got comfortable around so quickly. The Beomgyu standing in front of you now felt like a boy just for you.

With his soft smile and glasses framing his face, he was just a boy you wanted to get serenaded by.

“It’s totally a boyfriend vibe, you know?” He fixes his hat, looking into the mirror to check himself. “What do you think?” You blink quickly, nodding. “Yeah, it looks great,” you agree, swallowing a lump in your throat as the memory of Beomgyu singing outside of your window comes back to you.

“Right? Taehyun and Soobin need to stop arguing with me about having a better style. I’m the best,” he laughs, disappearing into the changing room before you can say anything else. When he comes out again, he has a new pair of jeans on—black ones this time—a simple white shirt and the jacket you picked up before.

Your eyes widen just slightly, biting the inside of your cheek as he steps closer to you, watching himself in the mirror beside you. “I didn’t think this would suit me too well,” he mumbles, hiding his hands in the jacket pockets, smiling. “But it actually looks amazing. I think I’ll get this.”

“Yeah, you should,” you nod, mentally slapping yourself to snap out of it. You need to focus, not think about how well he looks. “I’m sure Yuna will like it,” the words come out broken but you’re not sure why. You do think she will like it. It’d be stupid of her not to. He looks amazing.

“Okay, I have one more outfit there,” he says, fixing his hair quickly. “Come on.”

“Where?” You blink confusedly, slowly standing up. “I chose an outfit for you as well.” Your eyes widen as you follow him inside one of the cabins and he hands you the clothes. You don’t get the chance to say anything before he closes the door behind you, sliding back into his cabin.

You stand there for a second, not moving an inch while listening to his soft hums of the song playing on the store speakers. As soon as your mind processes what has happened, you take a look at the clothes you’re holding, making a mental note that he likes the color pink.

You step out while fixing your hair, Beomgyu already waiting for you with his back turned to you. You clear your throat and he immediately turns to face you, his eyes widening for a brief second. You feel a bit awkward as he watches you, his eyes scanning your whole body as if he saw you for the first time.

He has a neat, light blue button-up, half of the buttons undone, revealing a white tank top beneath it. His pants are black, formal, something you didn’t think you’d see on him. The more you watch him, the more you question if there’s something he doesn’t look good in.

While looking for his clothes, he stumbled into the women section, his eyes immediately landing on a pink sweater. He isn’t sure why, but the first thought that popped up in his mind was about how nice it would look on you. He knew he was shopping for his clothes but he couldn’t help it, ending up browsing the women’s section for something to go with the sweater. And he did find something—a white skirt. He thought it would look cute on you, what he didn’t know was that it would look this cute.

The skirt was shorter than he expected, revealing more skin than he was ready for. Just seconds ago, he was thinking about how good he looked in his clothes and now, he was a mess. He shakes his head, avoiding looking at you again as he swallows a lump in his throat, asking you what you think of his outfit.

“You look handsome.”

The words come out before you can stop it, making you avert your eyes as well, your cheeks lightly flushed.

You both stand there, avoiding meeting each other’s eyes from embarrassment as if you’ve just walked in on him naked. It’s irrational if you think about it from a different perspective, but you can’t look him in the eyes, no matter how much you try to.

You’d rather not look at him again if it’d mean getting your heart to calm down and not making you feel like you’re going to get a heart attack any second.

You’d rather not meet his eyes again than admit a part of you wishes he was dressing up like this for you instead of Yuna.

Beomgyu walks out of the store with two plastic bags—one for himself and the other for you. You did like what he picked out, and as soon as you said it out loud, his eyes met yours instantly, putting his embarrassment aside and saying he’ll buy it for you. You tried arguing at first but gave up halfway, letting him do whatever he wanted.

“Is there another thing we could check off the list today?” He wonders, walking through the mall with you by his side.

“Aren’t you tired?”

He hesitates for a second, shrugging. “No, not really,” he mumbles. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” It’s a small lie if he’s honest. He could find what to do. He has his guitar, his band that is waiting for him to compose another song they could play at the spring festival the school holds, and there’s the game he’s been promising Soobin to play for the past few weeks. Still, he doesn’t want to go home just yet, doesn’t want to close himself in his room for hours with music when he could hang out with you. It’s the first for him.

Beomgyu was always someone who loved music. No matter what it was—the sound of a guitar, his old music teacher teaching him her favorite songs, the sound of his pencil drumming against the desk when he was bored in class, or even the birds singing in the morning when he woke up.

He wasn’t sure why spending time with you suddenly sounded better than music but he didn’t want to question it.

All he wants to do is enjoy the rest of his day, preferably by your side.

“Sure,” you nod, looking at your phone to see the time. “We can watch a movie together,” you offer, already sending a quick text to your mom to let her know you wouldn’t come home alone. “Yuna likes romance movies.”

He hums, listening to your every word as you talk about all the possible movies that come to mind at the moment, giving a quick commentary to each of them so he could picture them.

“Do you have a favorite?” You think it through, remembering exactly how you felt watching each movie you’ve just mentioned. “10 things I hate about you,” you answer finally, confident in your response. There were so many good ones you could watch, but this one holds a special place in your heart. “Let’s watch that one then.”

The light is on in the living room when you reach your house, Beomgyu awkwardly hanging behind you as you walk inside, a loud “I’m home,” leaving your lips. You peek into the living room, waving at Beomgyu to come closer when you see both of your parents cuddled up on the couch, watching your mom’s favorite reality show.

“Good afternoon,” Beomgyu greets them nervously, pushing his glasses up when they slide down his nose. “I’m Choi Beomgyu, I go to Haneul Academy with your daughter.” Your parents glance up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, your mom’s smile widening immediately. “Oh my,” she quickly stands up, motioning for your dad to follow as she makes her way over to you.

You shake your head slightly as you watch your mom extend her hand towards him, introducing herself with a smile, your dad mirroring her actions. “You’re handsome,” she comments, nodding as if she was approving. You shoot her a look but she ignores it, offering Beomgyu something to eat.

“I, uhm, thank you,” he smiles, chuckling nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re going to watch a movie,” you inform them, getting their attention back to yourself. You’d rather not scare him away immediately. “Have fun,” your mom beams, glancing at your dad briefly. “I’ll get you something to eat as soon as our show ends.”

“Thank you.”

Beomgyu follows you into your room while you mumble apologies but he just shakes his head, brushing it off over and over again. “Your parents seem really nice.” You nod, closing the door behind you. “They are, but I get it if my mom seems like a lot right now.”

“She’s nice,” he repeats, assuring you it’s okay as he carefully sits on your bed. “Besides, even if she was an evil witch, it wouldn’t be your responsibility to apologize for her behaviour.” You bite back your smile, averting your eyes from him again and grabbing your laptop from the table.

“You’re really nice as well, you know,” you mumble, sitting down and placing the laptop on top of your thighs.

You’re really nice. The words echo in his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again as the movie starts playing, the sentence stuck in his throat. The intro music plays and he has to force himself to take his eyes off you and focus on the movie instead.

You soon learn Beomgyu can’t shut his mouth for longer than a few minutes, not even while watching a movie.

“This makes no sense. He can’t actually be that stupid, can he?” — “As you can see, some guys don’t have more than one brain cell,” you laugh, watching Joey pay Patrick as if it was his idea all along.

“Your eyes have a little green in them.” You smile, a soft giggle leaving your lips when she throws up right after that. Beomgyu beside you chuckles as well, glancing at you. “I’m starting to get it,” he says and your eyes meet. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean,” he clears his throat as if he was embarrassed. “They are cute together. It’s nice seeing them,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. “And it’s easy to imagine myself in there.”

“Yeah? Who would you be if you were there?” You question, your eyes flickering between the screen and the boy beside you. “Cameron,” he answers without hesitation and your smile falters for just a second. “I assume I know who Bianca would be.” He shrugs, not meeting your eyes again.

It doesn’t surprise you. You can see him in the position, pining over a girl while she flirts with the popular guy, playing around with him until she realizes what she’s missing out on. It’s funny, how just the thought of Beomgyu and Yuna makes you feel sick in the stomach even though you were the one offering your help with his crush.

The movie playing on your laptop along with a few soft laughs at times is the only thing that fills the room after that. You stay quiet, ignoring the way your shoulder brushes against his, watching in silence as Patrick and Kat get together, as Cameron and Bianca start seeing each other, even as Kat finds out she’s been played and Beomgyu starts asking questions, wondering if they are going to be okay.

“Is it that bad?”

“You mean being lied to and finding out he wasn’t interested from the start?” You raise your eyebrow and he closes his mouth again. “I get that just…you can see it in him that he loves her, right?”

“That’s true,” you nod slightly. “And that’s why they’re not going to stay apart forever.” That seems to quiet him down, eyes focused on the movie again.

As soon as the movie finishes, you shift in your place, Beomgyu’s eyes falling to your figure. “So? What do you think?” You ask to break the awkward silence. At least that’s what it seems like to you. “It’s really good,” he nods, his voice quiet. You want to ask if he’s okay, what is he thinking about and if he wants a glass or water or anything, but before you can do so, he is already on his feet, fixing his pants. “I should go now,” he says and you notice he doesn’t look you in the eyes. “It’s late and my mom is probably waiting for me.”

You nod, unsure of what to do. A part of you wants to stop him, ask him to stay longer and talk with you—about school, your part-time job, anything he wants—but you know you can’t. So instead, you stand up as well, leaving the laptop on your bed as you walk him out, watching him say his goodbye to your parents and them returning it with such a bright smile you’d think they’re talking to your best friend.

You linger at the door as Beomgyu walks out of your house, a plastic bag with his new clothes swinging in one of his hands. He looks back just once, your eyes meeting for a brief second, a spark flickering in them before he gives you one of his soft smiles, waving at you before disappearing into the dark.

You’re not sure what it is that had him running out of your room so quickly, but you know one thing—spending the day with him changed something.

Something you couldn’t quite name yet.

There has to be a logical explanation for the sudden change, and you doubt it’s the different clothes.

Taehyun seems to think the same, his eyes narrowing as he glances between you, Beomgyu, and the girl standing near the table, a smile on her face. Your eyes lock with his and he immediately wonders what’s happening. You shrug, as confused as he is. Soobin besides you doesn’t look as fazed, his eyes focused on his food, completely ignoring the situation happening around.

He wasn’t always eating lunch with the three of you but he knew about the situation. Beomgyu’s crush wasn’t a secret, and because they were best friends, there was no need to hide his plan from him either.

“Thanks for the help with the english homework,” Yuna smiles, making you roll your eyes. When you see Taehyun scoffing opposite you, you smile as well. You’re glad you’re not the only one feeling this way—like her whole presence near you is an irony.

“No problem,” Beomgyu answers with a shy smile. “Anytime.”

“This soup is really good,” Soobin interrupts and you’re not sure if he can’t read the room or just doesn’t care. Either way, Beomgyu glares at him, ignoring his comment completely.

“Okay,” she giggles gently, a sound so perfect you can see why Beomgyu would fall for her. Despite your differences and your disagreement with her actions, you get it. Deep down, you understand. She’s pretty, with long shiny hair and glossy lips. Her skin looks as soft as she sounds when she speaks, and her laugh sounds more beautiful than you expected.

“I’ll see you around then,” Beomgyu smiles at her awkwardly as she walks off to her table of friends, humming instead of answering. You wouldn’t consider this a real conversation or progress but when you see his eyes, you can’t say it out loud. He looks too proud of himself for that. “Did you guys see that?”

“No, not really,” Soobin says, not bothered at all. Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him but his smile doesn’t fall off his lips. “I’ve seen it. It’s weird,” Taehyun frowns.

“It’s not weird.”

“It is.”

“You don’t think it’s weird, do you?” Beomgyu looks at you, making you blink quickly. Your eyes flicker from him to his two friends, searching for help. Because honestly, you’re not sure.

“You like her,” you shrug, brushing the question off. Beomgyu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else, the topic slowly drifting to something no one minds talking about—their band practice.

Taehyun tells you about a new song they’re working on, complimenting Beomgyu’s work on the music—which makes his neck turn red—and laughing as he remembers how Kai’s legs got tangled with the cables and he knocked down a bunch of instruments. You gasp when you hear the story, worried about him and all the instruments that must have been damaged. Thankfully, Taehyun assures you no one got hurt, not a single guitar or band member.

“Have you prepared for the spring festival yet?” Soobin wonders, munching on his food. “There’s a month left and you’re performing, right?”

“Forty days,” Beomgyu corrects. “And…not really. I’m working on it, I promise. I told the manager we’d be performing three new songs so I need to make that happen,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Inspiration has been avoiding me lately.”

“What normally works for you?” You ask, watching his eyes widen slightly. He thinks about it, his mouth falling open and then closing again multiple times. “I’m not… I’m not sure actually. It usually just appears out of nowhere, I don’t think there’s a pattern or something that would make me write good music.”

“Relaxed mind,” Taehyun speaks up. “And memories. That usually works for me.”

You nod, glancing between the three boys. It’s true that ever since you went shopping with him, he’s been out of it. Sure, he still talks like he is on crack a lot of the time, his brain working faster than yours ever could, but every time you mention his music, his smile seems to falter for a second. And now that you know he hasn’t been able to write anything lately, it starts to make sense.

“Alright. We should do something then. Relaxed mind and memories? I think I know of a way to connect that with our little mission,” you smile gently, ignoring Taehyun narrowing his eyes at you, studying you, and only focusing on Beomgyu, his lips turning into a soft smile you’ve grown to love over the past few days. “Have you ever played basketball?”

Athletes were one of the most obvious things on Yuna’s like-list. Her dating history said enough. It was only natural for the next step of your plan to be something to do with sports—but Beomgyu certainly didn’t expect to be playing on the school court with the captain of the basketball team.

“You’re late,” he comments, looking at a non-existential watch on his hand. “Wasn’t Jake supposed to be here?” You ask instead of answering, walking closer to Heeseung, one of your old friends from middle school, Beomgyu following right after you. “Change of plans,” he shrugs innocently. “He had a chore to run to and I wanted to check out who you were so eager to teach basketball to.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice that makes you roll your eyes because you know exactly what he’s referring to. The last time you asked him and Jake to play basketball with you was when you wanted to introduce your boyfriend to them, but this was a different situation.

A completely different one.

“Heeseung, meet Beomgyu. Beomgyu, Heeseung,” you introduce them briefly. “He wants to impress a girl and needs to be good at sports for that.” Beomgyu shoots you a look immediately, a silent plea not to tell on him completely. It’s enough that he has to listen to Taehyun’s constant ranting about how stupid it is and Kai’s teasing, he doesn’t need it from a stranger as well.

“Nice to meet you,” Beomgyu extends his arm awkwardly, a brief smile on his lips. Heeseung shakes his hand without a second of hesitation, his smile much wider. “Who’s the lucky girl?” He wonders and before Beomgyu can answer, you turn to him. “He always wants to know all the gossip to have a clear picture of others in his head but he doesn’t tell others. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out.”

Beomgyu nods. “Yuna,” he admits, quickly looking around to check no one else was in. It’s kind of cute. It would be if he wasn’t talking about the one girl you don’t want him to talk about. You think it might feel a lot better if it wasn’t someone so different from you—if it was someone you didn’t compare yourself to so often.

Heeseung whistles, laughing softly. “That’s a tough one.” — “Do you think it’s not worth it?” Heeseung tilts his head slightly, taking a proper look at the boy in front of him. “That’s something you have to decide on your own. I don’t think you’re a bad guy, otherwise she wouldn’t be talking to you,” his eyes fall to you quickly before he looks back at Beomgyu. “And that alone gives you a chance with anyone.”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him, glancing at you. “I don’t think that was an encouragement.” Heeseung laughs at him, shaking his head. “If you want my insight, Yuna is not someone everyone can deal with. And I’m not one to tell you if she’s good for you or the other way around.”

You shake your head. “Just tell him it’s all worth it. It better be when we are putting so much effort in for her,” you laugh, the sound bitter. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, eyeing you up and down but before he can ask anything, you tell them to start playing already because you don’t have the whole day for them. It’s a lie. Once you knew you’d be spending the afternoon with Beomgyu again, you cancelled your shift and free-upped the rest of your day.

You don’t want to be time limited. Not when you’re with him.

Heeseung throws the ball to Beomgyu, daring him to show off what he is capable of. He hesitates, eyes flickering between you and Heeseung before he starts dribbling, trying to get around the captain. But this is Heeseung’s arena and he doesn’t let him win easily, stealing the ball the first chance he gets and running to the other side of the court, scoring perfectly.

It goes like that for a while, Beomgyu slowly getting used to the pace and learning when to try going through Heeseung and when not. It’s not easy at all but that’s something he expected. Playing with the captain couldn’t be easy.

“You’re good,” Heeseung praises, scoring another point. Beomgyu scoffs, pushing his sweaty hair back. “You learn fast and are confident.”

“I haven’t scored even half as many times as you did.”

“Yeah but I’ve been training my whole life,” he says, running around Beomgyu again before calling out to you. You raise your eyebrows confusedly, your eyes widening when the ball comes to you. You catch it, questioning what that was for. “Let’s play,” he explains simply, wrapping his arm around Beomgyu’s shoulder. “You haven’t gotten out of your form, have you?”

“You play?” Beomgyu asks confusedly, his eyes wide. You smile, dribbling slowly as you walk closer. “It’s impossible not to when you’re surrounded with people that do,” you shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “But I’m not any good, don’t worry.”

“That’s a lie,” Heeseung leans closer to Beomgyu, chuckling. “I always ask her to play against our newbies to see how good they are. She never loses,” the praises leave his lips as if it’s his second nature, making you roll your eyes. However, when Beomgyu smiles at you, saying he wants to play with you, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as well. “Let me take my glasses off first, they’re pissing me off.”

You watch him take them off and hide them inside his bag, your eyes never leaving him. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without them and a part of you is grateful for that. It’s really hard to focus on anything when he looks like that—absolutely gorgeous with his big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Yeah, this wasn’t good for you at all.

Running around the court, sweating your ass off, was never something you enjoyed a lot. It was the main reason why you never wanted to play basketball for a club. But running around with Heeseung and Beomgyu by your side was something completely different. You were laughing, your stomach hurting from how much. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and you were sure it wasn’t a pleasing sight, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Not when your eyes were focused on the sweat on Beomgyu’s forehead, his laugh addicting.

If it was with him, you could run forever on this court.

“Timeout, timeout,” Beomgyu repeats over and over again, his breathing heavy as he leans forward, his hands resting on his knees. Despite the exhaustion, he is still laughing softly, trying to collect himself again. His whole body feels too heavy all of a sudden. He falls to the floor, laying on his back and closing his eyes. Heeseung beside you laughs while you slowly walk over to him, sitting down beside him.

Your own breathing is unsteady but you’re still doing better than him, resting your hands on the ground beside you and blowing air up to your forehead in a lame attempt to get your hair out of your face.

“Well then, it’s good you’re so smart,” you mumble and he prompts himself up on his eyebrows, watching you curiously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You panic slightly, shaking your hands in front of your face. “I mean, you don’t have to be sporty! You are, obviously, uhm, I–”

His soft laugh interrupts you, a sigh full of relief escaping your lips. “I’m just teasing you. I’m glad I’m smart as well,” he assures you, glancing at Heeseung who is still standing up, a bottle of water in his hands now. You’re not sure where he got it but you need one as well, extending your arm towards him and asking him to pass it over. “Not that anything would be wrong with being an athlete, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Heeseung laughs, handing you the water. “You’re good,” he shakes his head, joining you on the ground. “That was fun, though. You do have a talent,” he assures him and you smile again, agreeing. Beomgyu grins proudly, mumbling something about always knowing he’d be good. It makes you laugh again. It’s amazing how easy it is for him to make you laugh but you definitely don’t complain.

As you’re collecting your things from the ground and saying your goodbyes to Heeseung, he pulls out his phone, telling you to wait. Both you and Beomgyu look over, questioning what he needs. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

Beomgyu smiles, quickly pulling out his phone and handing it to Heeseung for him to put his number in. “I’ve got a few pictures when you two were playing, let me send it to you.” You frown confusedly but Heeseung only smirks at you, Beomgyu’s phone lighting up with a new message instantly. “I think they are good, you should post them.”

There’s a bunch of photos of the two of you playing and laughing, some solo shots of Beomgyu, and even a picture of him laying on the ground just a few minutes ago. His smile widens, an idea sparkling in his head. Beomgyu quickly turns towards you, showing you a picture of him with the ball, his forehead sweaty, hair falling into his eyes. “Yuna said she likes big followings, right? I should start posting anyway, and this one is good, right?”

You freeze for a second, nodding slightly. “Yeah,” you mumble, biting your bottom lip to make sure you don’t say anything else. The words, “Can’t you do something just for yourself and not her?” hanging dangerously on the tip of your tongue.

“Alright, I see you around,” Heeseung says, sensing the sudden shift in your energy. “Call me later, yeah?” You nod, smiling awkwardly, holding tightly onto your bag. “I will,” you agree, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes again, hoping he can’t see how broken you feel over something so stupid. “Let’s go?”

When you get home you notice Beomgyu’s new post. The same picture he showed you earlier. When you scroll to another picture, he’s laughing with you and it makes you smile. The last picture he posted is of him laying on the ground, exhaustion visible. You think back to the moment and even though it’s only been minutes since you last saw him, you find yourself missing him already.

You want to spend more time with him, create more memories and laugh with him. But as soon as your eyes fall to the like button under his post, the silly wish disappears because you know you can’t ask for that. Not when his eyes are already on someone else.

Liked by yunaluxe and others.

You turn your phone off, throwing it beside you on the bed and burying your face in your pillow, a loud, regretting groan leaving your mouth.

The club room is loud, the electric guitar shaking the walls when Beomgyu walks in. Taehyun doesn’t notice him at first, his eyes closed as he plays, his grimace making Beomgyu wonder what he’s thinking about. It’s been long since he heard him play like that. Taehyun was usually calm, keeping his troubles to himself in order not to bother others.

“Hey,” Beomgyu greets him, Taehyun’s fingers stopping mid move as his eyes flutter open. “Hey. Sorry that was,” he tilts his head and swallows a lump in his throat, his brows furrowed as he thinks about how to explain himself. “I needed to cool off for a second.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shakes his head. “Just a rough day. Math and all,” he brushes it off and even though Beomgyu feels a bit uneasy, he nods, getting his guitar out of the case. “Yeah, math sucks,” he plays into it, smiling as he joins his side. “It completely tired me today as well. Should we play it off together?”

Taehyun’s lips turn into a smile, “Sure.”

Kai laughs awkwardly as he walks into the club room, making both Taehyun and Beomgyu turn his way. The two of them are sitting at a table in the corner of the room now, chatting about nothing in particular while waiting for their third member. He’s late, which isn’t usual for him.

“You got lost or what?” Beomgyu asks with a light laugh, his smile falling off when he notices another figure behind Kai. “Kind of,” he chuckles, a teasing smirk on his face as he steps aside for the two boys to see. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Yuna smiles warmly, fixing her skirt in a way that has Beomgyu thinking she wants him to look. He clears his throat, glancing at Taehyun instead. “I’m going to absolutely embarrass myself,” he whispers, his eyes screaming for any sort of help. Taehyun just rolls his eyes at him, jumping down from the table. “What brings you here?”

“I saw Huening in the hallway and asked him about you,” her eyes briefly flicker to Beomgyu, his neck turning red under her gaze. “And when he said you’ve got practice right now, I asked if it would be possible to join you.”

Beomgyu pulls a chair for her, unsure if he should yell at Kai or be thankful. He feels like a mess, with no idea what to do. There has to be a right and wrong answer but he can’t find them for some reason. So he simply grabs his guitar, squeezing it tightly as he waits for his band mates to prepare as well.

It’s awkward. He avoids meeting her eyes as much as possible while her gaze lingers on his figure in a way he didn’t think was possible. A part of him feels excited, but the other is just tensed, insecure, and intimidated. Sure, they’ve played for others before. The three of them stood together on a podium in front of a bunch of people since middle school, but this was different—intimate.

“Okay, uhm, let’s start with spring,” Beomgyu looks over his shoulder at Kai behind the drums and then back at Yuna, sharing an awkward smile with her before his fingers gently move over the strings, one hand holding the pick and determining the rhythm while the other switches between different chords.

As the soft melody echoes through the room, his eyes close, focusing on his voice as he starts with the first verse. Spring is an old song from four years ago they play to this date to warm up. It was also one of the first songs Beomgyu has written, and even though he knows he has improved a lot since then, he still feels proud.

“Should we do Wake up next?” Kai suggests as soon as the song comes to an end. Beomgyu’s eyes widen, anxiety running through his whole body. “Yeah, let’s do that,” Taehyun agrees without hesitation, ignoring Beomgyu’s panicked look. Wake up is a recent song, one he wrote with Yuna in mind. It’s embarrassing on its own, even more so when he’s supposed to play it in front of her.

“Oh, is that a new song? I haven’t heard of that one,” Yuna asks excitedly, her bright eyes catching him off guard. It feels like he is talking to a completely different person. Just a few weeks ago, he was convinced there wasn’t an universe where she would like him back and now, he felt like he was in a dream. Beomgyu from a month ago would be jealous of him now, absolutely excited to play a song for her.

But now, he doesn’t feel that. He feels lost and confused as his voice fills the room because it’s not Yuna or her pretty smile that his mind drifts to.

It’s you, the girl he’s spent so much of his time with lately he can’t see a reality in which he doesn’t talk to you.

His fingers slip. The chord misses. His heart stutters, faster than the tempo, his head clouded with memories of everything you did together. It’s weird, wrong. He’s supposed to be thrilled, jumping from excitement that he gets to show off his music in front of Yuna and possibly get closer to her, so why is it only you he can think of while playing a love song he wrote?

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beomgyu shakes his head, stopping before the song ends. Taehyun and Kai stop their movements as well, watching him confusedly. “My head is elsewhere,” he admits, mentally slapping himself to snap out of it. “It’s okay,” Taehyun assures him, his voice giving away that he is confused. This hasn’t happened before. If anyone was out of it during practice, it was Kai. Beomgyu was always focused, relaxing with the music and getting his mind off any unnecessary thoughts. It was weird.

“We can take a break,” Kai suggests, anxious when he looks at Yuna. He brought her in because he wanted to help Beomgyu and make them closer, he’d hate for this little mistake to cause the opposite. Thankfully, she doesn’t look disgusted like he expects her to, the same warm smile on her lips that calms him down a bit. “Sorry,” Beomgyu mumbles again, placing his guitar on the stand.

“It was really great,” Yuna says softly and Beomgyu’s eyes finally meet hers. “Don’t worry about it, the song sounds amazing.” — “Right,” he nods slightly, jumping up on the same table as before, his feet swinging in the air. “It’ll be better at the spring festival.” It’s a light promise that causes Yuna’s smile to widen, nodding happily. “I can’t wait to listen to it. I should go now, Minseo needs my help with getting alcohol for her party,” she giggles, the sound sending a shiver down Beomgyu’s spine. “You’re all coming, right?”

The guys exchange a look, unsure of what to say. Beomgyu only heard of the party when Minseo was talking to you about it in the café and honestly, he completely forgot about it. He didn’t think he was invited anyway, he never was. “You have to, it’ll be fun,” she encourages them, grabbing her hand back from the floor and standing up. “I’ll see you there,” she grins before any of them even answer her, not giving them a choice. And just like that, she walks away, leaving the three boys alone in the room.

Kai blinks confusedly, trying to figure out what just happened. He thought something was up right when Yuna approached him and asked him about their practice, but this was on a completely new level of insane. He turns his head towards Beomgyu who is as lost as he is, his gaze lingering at the door.

But for some reason, he doesn’t miss Yuna, doesn’t look there and imagine her figure. No, all he can think about is how wrong it felt playing the song for her, and how much he wishes it was you sitting on the chair in front of him, laughing with them at the stupid jokes Kai made or the way he messed up the chords.

Because with you he doesn’t feel the same pressure as with Yuna.

With you, it just feels easy.

“You haven’t forgotten, right?” You blink confusedly, looking up to see who’s talking to you. Your confusion only grows when your eyes meet Minseo who you haven’t talked to since the day in the café. “About…?” She gasps, shaking her head in disappointment. “The party, obviously! You have to come.” The fact she’s talking to you doesn’t surprise you as much as the way she finally says your name correctly does.

“I…when is it?” You ask carefully, hoping she doesn’t yell at you. She simply sighs, opening her phone to show you something. “Have you lived under a rock until now? It’s bold on here,” she turns her screen towards you, your eyes quickly scanning her story with the time and address. It is clear and you’re sure everyone knows about it already. It’s your fault for not following her.

“Tell me you don’t have anything today. We talked about this a month ago already.”

“I, no, I’m free,” you nod, a little uncertain. Parties weren’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t know how to tell her no. It was the first time someone out of her circle talked to you about anything other than homework they needed help with, and even though you knew it was pathetic holding onto it so much when you complained about their lack of intellect a lot before, you didn’t want to miss out on your chance to prove to them you weren’t just a nerd who didn’t have any hobbies outside of studying.

“Then it’s settled,” she claps her hands happily. “Bring whoever you want with yourself as long as they’re fun, I don’t care.” You nod, someone popping into your head immediately. She grins, waving at you slightly before walking out of the class, already chatting with someone else.

You brush your hands on your skirt awkwardly, trying to get them to stop sweating as you step out of the car, Beomgyu and his two friends right behind you. Kai’s older sister quickly wishes you to have fun, telling Kai to call her once he needs a ride back before driving off, leaving the four of you at the sidewalk.

“This is so weird,” Taehyun comments, looking at the already full house. Some people are in the garden, laughing around the pool while one of Minseo’s friends stands behind the DJ pult, mixing songs in a way that gives away that she is definitely not supposed to touch the device.

“Tell me about it,” Beomgyu mumbles while Kai just grins, way more excited than the three of you. “Oh, come on. It’s going to be fun!”

“Or extremely embarrassing.” Kai rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Taehyun’s shoulder and walking towards the house, yelling how lame you and Beomgyu are. You watch their back in disbelief, glancing at Gyu beside you. He’s wearing one of his ripped jeans with an oversized band shirt, looking as handsome as ever. He also isn’t wearing his glasses, and so when he turns his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours, you feel weak in the knees.

“Let’s go,” he smiles and you avert your eyes, squeezing the bottom of your skirt as you gaze into the ground beneath your feet. He seems to notice your uneasiness, wrapping his hand around your shoulder and pulling you closer into a brief side hug. You raise your head again, surprise written all over your face as you watch him, eyes wide. “You look amazing,” he assures you, thinking that’s what’s bothering you. “I told you when we were buying the clothes and I’ll tell you all over again until you believe it.”

It’s incredible how easy it is for Beomgyu to have your heart racing. His words echo in your head, his cologne reaching your nose as he slowly walks with you towards the house as well, keeping you close. You look down on your clothes again, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you stare at the white skirt and pink sweater—the same clothes he bought for you a few weeks back.

Beomgyu grabs a drink for you and him as soon as you get inside, finding a space in the corner of the room. He tells you about a new show he’s been watching, how his new song has been going, and even about his failure at cooking dinner last night. You laugh, slowly getting comfortable again and forgetting about everyone else, your world only having two people in it—you and him.

You’re not sure where Kai and Taehyun disappeared or if they were having fun but it’s what bothers you the least at the moment, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t Choi Beomgyu and his soft voice.

But your little bubble is interrupted when your eyes meet Yuna’s behind Beomgyu and she walks over, greeting you with the same annoyingly beautiful smile. You take a sip of your drink and a small step back to make space for her, Beomgyu mimicking your movements. “Hey,” he greets her back, introducing you to her as if you didn’t already know who she was. “Oh, yeah, my bio girl, right?” She asks and you grit your teeth, nodding.

It’s ridiculous. You’ve been in her bio class for two years and she always came to you asking for help or homework answers, often cheating off your tests as well, so how were you still only labeled as her bio girl? It made you feel like a joke.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she mumbles. You bite back the insult you want to say and simply smile, letting Beomgyu answer. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while,” he nods, glancing at you. There’s a flicker of something you can’t name in his eyes, making you blink confusedly. Haven’t you known better, you think it’s pain, regretted behind those words. Does he not see you as his friend?

“Oh, right, I saw you on Beomgyu’s post when he was playing basketball, right?” You nod again, shaking it off and focusing your attention at Yuna again. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she says, shutting you out of the conversation before you can say anything else. “I don’t have anything to drink, mind grabbing something with me?” Beomgyu opens his mouth and closes it again, his eyes flickering between the two of you before he nods hesitantly, letting her wrap her arm around his and pull him away, leaving you standing there alone with just a cup of vodka in your hands.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t feel like shit but there’s nothing you can do, watching them from your corner while sipping on your drink, looking like someone drained life out of you. Minseo seems to notice when she walks over to you to greet you, her smile turning into a frown as she asks what’s going on. You don’t answer. Can’t. But she figures it out on her own, her eyes following yours and finding Beomgyu and Yuna chatting near the drinks, both laughing over something he said.

“Oh,” she breathes out, standing in front of you to cover the sight. She raises her cup, unsure of what to say to make you feel better. “Yuna is… I didn’t know… I mean,” she clears her throat, feeling the pain in her gaze. You shake your head, raising your cup as well and forcing a smile, drinking with her. Your eyebrows furrow when the bitter taste fully settles in, the grimace you make making Minseo laugh. You’re glad at least one of you is able to laugh at the moment.

“You know, I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks,” she says suddenly, glancing back at them again. “So I really enjoy talking to you because I know you’re not stupid either.” — “Thanks?” You interrupt confusedly and she sighs. “My point is, I wanted to have a friend who was smart and also could talk about stupid boys with me so I wanted to help you get a boy, I told you that, right?” You nod, trying to see where her monologue is going. “But he’s…I can’t really help you when Yuna wants him as well. You understand, right?”

Your eyes widen, your lips shaking a bit as you try to answer her. But what is it that you’re supposed to say? Yeah, no worries, I get that she wins every time? Oh thank you for being such a great friend, Minseo?

Instead, you brush it off, changing the conversation before she can say anything else and make you feel even worse. She seems to prefer it that way as well. Her smile returns and she tells you about the boy she is seeing at the moment, complaining about him not showing up today before she drags you with herself towards the center of the room, introducing you to a few people as if you were really her friend.

You sit down on the couch right beside her, fixing your skirt when it rolls up higher than you’d want. One of the guys offers you his drink but you refuse, saying you’re good. It’s only when you see Yuna holding Beomgyu’s hand and pulling him with herself for a dance that you grab the drink from him, gulping it down in one go. There’s a few whistles around you and cheers but they don’t reach your ears. The only thing you can hear is Minseo telling you to be careful before you receive another cup with who knows what.

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there, drinking and chatting with Minseo’s friends but it does help make you feel better. You push Beomgyu out of your head for a while, thinking about getting home and watching a movie with your mom instead of the boy that keeps breaking your heart over and over again without knowing about it. It feels nice to be able to focus on something else for once, but with your luck, it doesn’t last long.

“Here you are,” Beomgyu’s voice is a little panicked when he finds you, sounding as if he was looking for you all over the house. His breathing is unsteady as he looks around the group of people surrounding you, frowning. It’s an unusual crowd to say the least, especially when it’s Minseo of all people telling you to stop drinking because you’ve had enough. Your eyes flicker to him, your smile falling off. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi,” he greets you back even though he doesn’t understand, your name gentle on his lips. “Are you okay?” He asks, worried as he comes to stand beside you. You nod, smiling again. “Peachy.”

“She drank quite a lot,” Minseo tells him, making you roll your eyes. They’re acting as if you were wasted, unable to hear them. But you’re sitting right between them, annoyed with both of them. “The last time I checked I was able to drink however much I want,” you mumble, asking for another drink. Yeonjun who’s sitting opposite you reaches over and offers you his cup. You grab it without hesitation.

Beomgyu says your name again in a poor attempt to stop you but it only makes you want it more. You need to drown the pain he causes you. Need to shut his voice out before you start crying in front of everyone without even knowing why.

His words make Beomgyu even more uncertain, his blood boiling when he watches Yeonjun’s eyes trail down your body. It’s disgusting, really. He stands between you without hesitation. “Let’s go,” he tries again, watching your cheeks turn red as you look up at him, hoping for the couch to swallow your whole so you could disappear.

His eyes are pleasing and part of you wants nothing more than to leave with him right now, but it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.

Your eyes widen, feeling your heart is about to jump out of your chest when he tilts his head slightly, his eyes closed as he tastes your lips, his other hand moving from your to your waist, keeping you flush against him.

You’re out of breath when he pulls away, the loud cheers around making you snap out of your thoughts and realize what’s going on. Beomgyu holds your hand again, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Can we go now?” You nod this time, squeezing his hand tightly as he pulls you away from the crowd, getting out of the house without looking back once.

You don’t look back either, your eyes fixed on your intertwined hands, unable to think straight as he pulls you towards Lae’s car, Taehyun and Kai already waiting inside.

He holds your hand throughout the whole ride without a single word, only letting you go when the car stops in front of your house and you step outside, your gaze lingering on him until Lea drives off and you’re finally able to break down, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.

You don’t want to get out of your bed the next morning, frowning when the light from outside reaches your face. You hide your head under your blanket, groaning. You reach your hand out, trying to find your phone somewhere on the bed. Once you do, you’re left disappointed when you see it’s dead, slowly rolling out of the bed to charge it.

It feels like someone beat your head the whole night but you force yourself to get out of your room and find something to eat, trying your hardest to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach that reminds you just how poor your decisions were last night.

“You’re awake,” your mom smiles from the kitchen counter, already handing you a glass of water and some scrambled eggs. You smile as you grab them from her, sitting down at the table where your dad is drinking his morning coffee. “Did you throw up last night?” He asks and you shake your head immediately, assuring him it wasn’t that bad.

“Beomgyu came by earlier,” your mom says as she settles into a chair beside you. Your eyes widen. “Asked if he could talk to you but you were asleep so I sent him back home. Did something happen?” You hesitate as you take a bite of your breakfast, remembering the way his lips felt against your last night. There’s a few things from last night that are blurry. You don’t remember how much you drank or what it was, but you remember this clearly.

“No, nothing happened,” you shake your head in the end. “It probably wasn’t that important, don’t worry about it.”

Nothing important. You try to convince yourself of that as well but as soon as you’re done eating, you rush back to your room, grabbing your phone immediately. Your lips curve into a smile when you see new messages from Beomgyu, feeling like for once, maybe life is going your way.

Beomgyu: Are you awake yet? Beomgyu: Can we talk? Beomgyu: I’m on my way to your house Beomgyu: Your mom said you’re still sleeping, just call me when you wake up? Beomgyu: I need to talk to you Beomgyu: And preferably see you as well Beomgyu: I miss you

He’s adorable. You rush to press the call button but freeze when you get a new notification. Yunaluxe shared a new story.

You click on the notification even though a part of you knows you shouldn’t. Your stomach immediately drops when you see a picture of her and Beomgyu from last night, her arm wrapped around his waist while the other holds up a drink. He is smiling, his arm around her waist as well. You feel sick as you read the caption. Love finding future celebrities before they’re famous.

You turn your phone off again and let it charge, jumping back into bed and closing your eyes, Beomgyu’s messages staying there unanswered. You can’t talk to him. Not when you know he thinks last night was a mistake. He likes Yuna, right? There’s no reason for him to talk to you.

Life never goes your way.

It hurts avoiding him, but it hurts even more seeing him. You turn away every time you catch just a glimpse of Beomgyu in the hallways, avoiding all his messages and calls. It’s been four days since you properly looked at your phone, not wanting to see what he texted you. You can’t. You’re sure that if you read his messages you’d cry again, and you’ve had enough of that.

So instead, you buried yourself in work. You took a shift every day of this week and once your classes ended, you ran to the basketball court immediately to be with Heeseung and Jake, making sure there wasn’t a minute you could meet or think about Beomgyu.

It worked.

At least until it didn’t.

You hear your name from behind, squeezing your eyes shut at the familiarity of it. You want to run away and pretend you didn’t hear him but before you can do so, he grabs your hand and your eyes widen. You slowly turn around, pulling your hand away from him. “Hey,” you greet him awkwardly.

He sighs. You expect him to accuse you of avoiding him, be mad, or even yell at you. Instead, he does the complete opposite. “Hi,” he says simply, his voice as soft as you remember it. You meet his eyes hesitantly, your heart shattering into tiny pieces when he smiles at you. “Can we talk?”

He doesn’t give you the chance to refuse, pulling you aside so you don’t stand in the way of other students. You’re both quiet for a while, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. An apology hangs at the tip of your tongue but the words never come out, the nervousness building up more and more the longer you stand there.

Eventually, you break the awkward silence. “It looks like your wish became reality.” His eyes widen, looking at you confusedly. You clear your throat, looking away. “Yuna likes you, it’s super obvious. You’ve been talking to her, right? I’m sure it’s going well for the two of you.”

“What? No– you– are you serious?” Now this is more in the tone of how you expected this conversation to go, the annoyance in his voice clear as day. “This has nothing to do with her. I wanted to talk to you. To you, about you.”

“Did Taehyun get used to her yet? I’m sure she’s also eating lunch with you now, right? I hope he isn’t making it too hard for you,” you say as if you couldn’t hear anything he said.

“Can’t you hear me?” He questions, taking a step forward. “This is not about Yuna or anyone else, I don’t care what Taehyun thinks of her. And no, she is not fucking eating lunch with us, which you would know if you weren’t running away from me. Seriously? Can’t you just talk to me, please.”

His voice breaks at the end and you have to bite the inside of your cheek. No, you can’t talk to him. It’s too hard. Too painful. You need to run away from him, this conversation, everything he makes you feel.

“I can’t,” you admit, focusing everything you have left on making sure your voice doesn’t break. If it did, you’re sure you’d cry. “I can’t, Beomgyu. Please, just go be happy with her and let me get over you in peace. I want to be your friend, I really do, but I need to be alone at first to be able to do that.”

Beomgyu opens his mouth to argue, tell you how stupid it all is and that he doesn’t want you to do that, that he needs you closer than ever now. You walk away before he can do so, breathing heavily as you turn your back to him. It’s not fair.

It’s the only thing both of you can think about. It’s not fair.

It’s not fair he gets to walk around all happy with his dream girl liking him back while you have to watch, every word that comes out of his mouth breaking you in a different way.

It’s not fair you get to walk away and look for closure while he is left standing there alone, unable to do anything but watch you as he regrets everything that happened in the past few weeks. As he regrets everything except for you.

Beomgyu doesn’t need to speak for his friends to know something is wrong. As soon as he walks into the club room and sits down, it’s obvious he isn’t okay. Taehyun and Kai exchange a quick look before walking over to him, sitting beside him without a word.

“Is everything…good?” Taehyun asks awkwardly, immediately shutting his eyes closed and regretting how off he sounds. “Perfect,” Beomgyu mumbles, only confirming their worries. “What happened?”

Beomgyu hesitates, staying quiet for a while and repeating everything inside his head. Yeah, what did happened? When did everything go so fucking wrong? “We kissed,” he admits with a sigh. “Who?” Kai frowns and Taehyun immediately slaps his shoulder, shaking his head. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, your name leaving his lips before he can stop it. “On the party. And as you might have noticed, she’s been ignoring me since.”

“Wait, slow down, you kissed her? I thought you wanted Yuna?” Kai asks confusedly, the surprise in his voice obvious. “Dude, it was so obvious they have feelings for each other,” Taehyun says and Beomgyu immediately turns his head towards him. “You think she has feelings for me?” He wonders, a little too excited.

“I know she does. Have you seen the way she looks at you?”

A smile forms on his lips, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared when he remembers you don’t want to see him right now, even if you do like him. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now. She doesn’t want me around and says I should be with Yuna.”

“Wasn’t that what you always wanted?” Beomgyu glares at Kai and the poor boy raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you can’t blame her when Yuna has been the only thing you’ve been able to talk about for weeks.”

“That’s not true,” he argues even though he doesn’t believe it himself.

“It’s slightly true,” Taehyun nods. “But it’s definitely not lost yet,” he assures him quickly when he sees the pain in his eyes. “I know you and I know her, you two are way too good friends to be able to stay apart for so long. I’ve known you for years, Beomgyu, and as long as I’ve known you, Soobin was always your best friend. But after meeting her? It was so painfully obvious you like her the most out of all of us. I wondered all the time if you only see her as a friend. And she looks at you the same. Like you’re the whole world.”

Beomgyu doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how. Silence takes over the room again and Taehyun wonders if he said something wrong, nervously glancing at Kai.

“Do you want to cancel practice today? We don’t have to have one. We are basically perfect,” the youngest asks carefully but Beomgyu just shakes his head, standing up slowly. “No, we should practice. The spring festival is in a few days and we can’t mess up. I’ve heard some recording companies will be there.”

They don’t argue with him, following him to their instruments without saying anything else. The silence is weird, uncomfortable, and it makes Taehyun and Kai uneasy. It’s the first time since they started playing together that their practice was this quiet.

Beomgyu grumbles as he keeps messing up the chords, his head too loud compared to the silence in the room. It’s unbearable. But he pushes through anyway, not wanting to bother his friends with something so small as a failed crush he realized he had too late.

It’s only when Taehyun suggests playing a different song that he finally manages to play somewhat stable. The right melody finally echoing through the club room. And as Taehyun starts singing and Beomgyu prepares for his verse, his mind drifts off again. He sees you, standing right in front of him and cheering him on with your big eyes, watching him like he is the star.

And in that moment, it feels like all of his pain vanishes, only the happy memories he has with you remaining.

“I need to go,” he blurts out all of a sudden, quickly packing his guitar. His friends watch him confusedly, blinking as he runs off without another word, unsure of what to do now.

You’re not sure about this. You stare down at your outfit, thinking if you should change again. You’re wearing a light blue dress that you’d normally love but for some reason can’t seem to feel good in right now.

“You look gorgeous, I promise. Beomgyu is going to fall to his knees when he sees you,” Heeseung assures you, watching you from your bed. But it’s not about whether he’ll like it or not, you don’t even know if you want him to. Jake turns off his phone and looks at you as well, a soft smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head at you. “It’s beautiful. No need to stress it. We’re going there to have fun, not for some dumb dude. What was his name? Beomhuj? Or something like that.” You giggle as Jake playfully winks at you, making you feel better without having to try much.

You’re glad they are going with you. You don’t think you’d be able to go alone. When you met Soobin in the hallway two days ago, he offered to go with you and you doubted he knew anything about what happened with you and Beomgyu so you simply rejected his offer softly. You weren’t going to go anyway. Just last night, you were set on staying home and laying in bed with your comfort movies, but then Heeseung and Jake came over, also set on something—making you go with them.

You weren’t in the mood to argue with them and so you got dressed, letting them convince you.

And now, you’re standing right behind the barricade with each boy on your side, awkwardly looking around the empty podium. You told yourself you weren’t excited, that you were there simply because your friends made you, so why were you searching for a certain boy with your eyes the whole time?

Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai walk on the podium shortly after, the cheers and whistles loud around you. Even though you’re supposed to feel sad, mad even, all you are at the moment is proud. They are incredible. You know how hard they worked up to this point and seeing the crowd cheering for them makes you giddy. They deserve this, no matter what anyone else says.

You watch Beomgyu introduce their band, his eyes nervously scanning the whole crowd. It might be just your imagination but you swear you catch a glimpse of his smile when his eyes finally land on you, clearing his throat as Kai starts playing the drums and music takes over the place.

You smile as you listen to their music, all the sadness and emptiness you felt before washing off. You can’t help it. Even though a part of you wants to run away and hide so you never have to see him again, your other half heals when you listen to him. It always had.

The song comes to an end and Beomgyu glances at his bandmates quickly before wrapping his hand around the mic, smiling at the crowd.

“This is the first time we’re playing this song and it’s quite fresh, so I’m sorry if we sound a bit off,” he laughs awkwardly. “I wrote it at my worst and best at the same time. This one is for, uhm, a special someone,” he proclaims, avoiding eye contact as he thinks over his words. “It’s for the girl who makes me feel so much at once I’m unable to think straight, someone who has been there with me even when I was so oblivious it hurt her,” you see him glance at you briefly, his eyes saying everything you wanted to hear after accepting the fact you like him. You swallow a lump in your throat, shifting nervously and glancing at the two boys beside you.

“This one is called Because of you. I hope you like it.”

You blink confusedly as the melody surrounds you, the excitement in your eyes obvious as you look at Heeseung to make sure you’re not dreaming. He has a playful smirk on his lips, nodding as if he could read your mind completely.

“You laughed at things I couldn’t say, And made them rhyme inside my chest, I thought I’d lost the words one day, But with you, I found the rest,”

Beomgyu’s voice makes you melt in an instant, your eyes glued to his as he sings his song, a song just for the two of you. You get your serenade, you realize. A song he wrote for you and no one else. Your smile widens, cheering him on with the rest of the crowd, causing his grin to widen as well.

“Because of you, I raise my voice, Not to impress, but to rejoice, You turned the noise into a song, And showed me where my words belong, I used to run, now I stand through, Because of you,”

The words play in your head the same way the first song you’ve heard him play did, the melody already stuck in your head as you hum along, singing with him as if you’ve known the song for years. Maybe it’s because it’s him, maybe because it’s the two of you, but you don’t care. Not when he stares at you throughout the whole song, even though you know Yuna is somewhere in the crowd as well.

As soon as the song ends, Beomgyu glances at Taehyun for reassurance, giggling when he sees the proud nod he gives him. He rolls his eyes playfully when he sees how excited Beomgyu is, shaking his head. “Do I need to tell you everything? Get down there,” he encourages.

Beomgyu turns towards the crowd again, laughing awkwardly. “If you guys excuse me for a moment.” He doesn’t wait for their answer, doesn’t wait for anything really as he puts away his guitar and rushes down the podium to the barricade. You watch him with amusement, giggling softly as Jake claps beside you.

It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more, making you feel absolutely drunk on him. You kiss him back without hesitation, smiling. If every kiss with him feels like butterflies exist in your stomach—you want to kiss him forever.

He pulls back a little breathless, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s you. Deep down, I knew it’s always been you.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @t-102 @jellyyjn @1-800-jewon @barbielibra @konigyu @demidelulu @i-am-not-dal @vicurious28 @yeonjunnnielover @fancypeacepersona @soohashits @whoisgami @cloverwalker ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

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donat-senpai · 3 days ago

Note

Please I'm ON MY KNEES HERE, yandere maomao and Jinshi with a reader who puts EVERYTHING but that they like her and a yandere together like

Jinishi: "you must know that i-

Y/n:"no I know....... It's obvious. But maomao also know witch is WHY- *runs away, giggling because she set up a romantic date in her place and trapped maomao and Jinshi there*

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy, rivalry, eunuch-related themes At some point I lost control and everything became a bit tense 😅

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four

You were standing in a long corridor, barely remembering to breathe. The heavy silence pressed on your chest. You forced yourself to inhale… and slowly exhale. You could hear your own pulse ringing in your ears. Right in front of you — far too close to be appropriate — stood Jinshi with a strange expression on his face. Anyone walking by would’ve thought they’d caught a pair of secret lovers in the middle of something. He had stopped you, asking for a moment of your attention. His hand was still resting on your elbow. Mentally, you flipped through every possible wrongdoing you might’ve committed, bracing yourself to beg for mercy. Losing your position at the palace was not part of your plans. But then, suddenly, his expression shifted. Uncertain now, almost… shy?

“You should know that I…”

There it was! He wasn’t here to fire you. He just needed help with something. Nodding in understanding, you grabbed him by the shoulders (a gesture meant to offer your full support) and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially:

“No. I know. It’s obvious. But Maomao knows too. That’s why… I’ll help you!”

You pulled free from his grip and bolted down the corridor, giggling in triumph. Finally, full freedom of action! Not that the lack of it had ever really stopped you before, but with his blessing? Everything would go so much smoother now.

Jinshi remained where he stood, utterly and completely bewildered.

---

Maomao took a sip of tea and closed her eyes in contentment. You were sitting beside her, chirping about something or other. She was genuinely trying to listen, but the fatigue of the day was catching up to her. To her, your voice was the most calming sound in the world. She leaned in closer, resting her shoulder gently against yours. A faint scent filled her lungs — aromatic oil. For a moment, she felt like nothing could ruin this day. But then you suddenly shot to your feet, causing her to nearly lose balance as her support — your shoulder — vanished.

“Sorry! I just remembered I need to… do something. Wait here, okay? Please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!” You darted out of the room like a startled bird. Maomao, stunned (which was rare for her) stared after you.

Some time passed. The door opened again. Maomao was just about to ask what that had been all about, and was met with the most disappointing sight imaginable. “What’s HE doing here?” she thought. Jinshi stepped in. You flashed behind him, offering her an apologetic smile as you shut the door and locked it with a key.

“Looks like someone really wanted us to be alone,” Jinshi noted quietly, a faint smirk playing at his lips. He tried the doorknob — locked. “They asked for my help. Apparently, your presence brings the mood down.”

“Of course. Only they would think this is a good idea.” Maomao sat upright sharply, the drowsiness vanishing in an instant.

“Still, maybe it’s for the best. We do need to finally talk about… certain things.”

Maomao raised an eyebrow. Jinshi crossed his arms.

Outside, you pressed your ear against the door, holding your breath, eavesdropping. Everything was going perfectly. Any moment now one of them would crack and confess their feelings. They were so close, despite all that pompous irritation between them.

“These doomed relations have no future. You need to admit that to yourself and stop coming here,” Maomao said flatly.

“I could say the same to you,” Jinshi replied, his tone cold. “Do you really think you can keep pretending to be just a friend? If you cross the line, everything you worked so hard to build will fall apart.”

You tensed. They had never spoken this coldly around you before. What was happening? This was supposed to be a confession, but it sounded more like… threats.

“I’ll figure out what to do. Besides, you’re a eunuch. You’re hardly of any use.”

“I have wealth. Power. I can provide this. What can you offer? Timid touches when no one’s watching?” Jinshi’s voice was calm, as though her insult hadn’t touched him in the slightest.

“And yet I’m the one staying with them when you're off doing whatever your duties require. I’m the one making sure they’re safe. I’m there when things go wrong. And when things are good too. They laugh with me. They’re happy with me. So don’t pretend that their joy is thanks to your rare, lazy appearances.”

Maomao’s composure finally cracked. She didn’t raise her voice, but her fury filled the room. Silence followed. Your knees buckled, and you barely managed to stay standing, gripping the door for support. You had completely lost track of the conversation. You had no idea what they were even talking about anymore. But one thing was painfully clear: this was not going according to plan. Now they were fighting. You had to do something. You had to intervene before it got worse.

“Is Lord Jinshi in there?”

You flinched. Gaoshun’s voice rolled through the corridor like distant thunder.

You threw yourself in front of the door, arms spread as if your body alone could shield the truth. As if that would help.

“N-no! He’s… um… not here!” You smiled nervously, your voice shaky.

Gaoshun slowly raised an eyebrow. And then came the look. That infamous “disappointed father” stare, honed through years of diplomacy, dealing with difficult subordinates, and raising children of his own.

“You again.”

You dropped your gaze in shame, unlocking the door with one hand. Then you stepped aside and opened it.

Well. That date was over.

Jinshi left the room at once. You didn’t dare look at him, simply watching him leave from the corner of your eye. He didn’t stop and didn’t look back. Just walked away disappointed. Gaoshun followed.

Yeah… maybe they hadn’t figured out their feelings yet. But you knew. You could feel it. You saw it. And someday (absolutely) they’d understand it too.

…Wait. Who were they talking about?

You didn’t get the chance to dwell on that thought, because a thoroughly annoyed Maomao grabbed your wrist and dragged you back into the room, clearly ready to scold you.

Taglist: @iamrgo, @hellishdevotee, @levifiance, @bloodypawzies, @greensunflowerjuna, @jackiebluh, @thefawnmadeofstars,

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

#yandere x reader #yandere #the apothecary diaries #yandere maomao #maomao x reader #yandere maomao x reader #jinshi x reader #yandere jinshi #yandere jinshi x reader #yandere the apothecary diaries

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starliightfiend · 2 days ago

Text

⋆｡°✩ "wanna watch something?" where watching a new show with your boyfriend takes a hilarious turn

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Katsuki Bakugou

The air in the room was quiet and content. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, perfect for lazing around with a friend. In your case, that friend was Katsuki, possibly the worst lazing partner imaginable.

Katsuki didn’t exactly do lazing; he always had to be doing something. Even when relaxing, he was always doing something: reading a book, watching a show, listening to his friends bicker. If there was one thing Katsuki Bakugou was not, it was idle.

So, naturally, he was grumpy about the fact that you had him invited over to your dorm just to lie about and enjoy each other’s company. He enjoyed your company just fine, but the silence and lack of activity was killing him. He had scrolled aimlessly through his phone multiple times now to no avail and was sick of it.

You could tell that your boyfriend was crawling out of his skin with boredom. He always got this specific look on his face when he was mind-numbingly bored. He’d scowl loosely, his lip jutting out in what he’ll swear isn’t a pout. So, to quell his ticking time bomb of boredom, you turned to him and asked, “You wanna watch something?”

Katsuki scoffed and sat upright, grumbling, “Anything’s better than laying here doing nothing.” You rolled your eyes at him, patting the space next to you to beckon him over. As he got up and lumbered over to you, you began setting up your laptop to put on a show.

By the time Katsuki sat down next to you, you had already pulled up a streaming service. The two of you had recently finished the last show you were watching together, so you’d have to find something new to watch today. After scrolling for a bit while Katsuki got himself comfortable, you came across the perfect show to put on.

You clicked play wordlessly, getting comfortable alongside Katsuki as the laptop began playing the first episode. You leaned lightly against Katsuki, causing him to instinctively wrap an arm around you and pull you just a bit closer.

“What’d you put on?” He mumbled, shifting a bit to better accommodate the two of you. You grinned and made a conscious effort to keep the amusement out of your tone, replying with a simple, “You’ll see.”

As the the episode began played, you could see out of the corner of your eye Katsuki’s face slowly morphing from contentment, to confusion, to indignation, before finally landing on a mix of disgust and disbelief.

At this point, you could hardly contain your laughter as you watched the show's title screen pop up, displaying the show's name in elegant font: ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’

As the show continued introducing this episode’s bride, Katsuki turned to you and said incredulously, “What the hell is this?!” You snickered, trying to keep a neutral face, “It’s ‘Say Yes to the Dress’. Have you never heard of it before?”

Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes and saying, “Of course I’ve heard of it, but why the hell are we watching it?!” You’d given up on keeping your composure by now, full-on laughing as you replied, “Because you picked which show we’d watch last time! Now it’s my turn!” You lightly slapped his arm, deliberately turning your attention back to your laptop, “Now shush, the bride brought her mother-in-law with her, and I want to see how this goes!”

Katsuki scoffed again, making a dramatic display of rolling his eyes and grumbling, but ultimately settled back into a comfortable position and averted his gaze back to the laptop, though now with a judgmental glare. The two of you sat in relative silence while the episode played, only breaking the silence here and there to remark about some of the dresses or how the bride’s entourage was acting.

Forty-five minutes later, the credits began rolling for the episode as music played in the background. The bride in this episode had ended up choosing a large, poofy dress, a decision that Katsuki was very vocal about.

“I don’t get why the lady even brought that dress out in the first place, it’s fucking hideous.”

“It’s not thaaaaaat bad.”

“Not that bad? It looks like an upside-down cupcake wrapper!”

You laughed loudly at his comment. You hadn’t expected Katsuki to get so invested in this show. But, you thought, in hindsight, it makes sense, considering his mom’s line of work. Of course he’d be opinionated about fashion.

By now, Katsuki had started grumbling about the bride’s entourage and how vocal they had been about each dress, nitpicking every detail as if it were their own. As he was ranting about how absolutely ridiculous the show's entire premise was, he leaned forward to press play on the next episode. You decided not to comment on that, settling for a knowing smile and a laugh at your boyfriend’s displeased expression.

The two of you ended up watching three and a half episodes of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before leaving your dorm to eat dinner. Katsuki was still adamant that it was one of the worst shows he’s ever seen, with dresses that were even uglier than the entourage’s attitude.

Despite all his complaints and grumbling, he wrote down the time stamp of where you two had left off on the fourth episode and added the show to your library. Try as he might to claim he hated the show, you knew you had gotten him hooked. Mission accomplished.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ hope you enjoyed ✰ .ᐟ

#hi guyssss..... im backkkk....#sorry for the insane hiatus yall know how it is #i shoulllllldddd be back now tho #☆ star writing ☆#☆ fics ☆#bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski

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hearts-of-iron · 1 day ago

Note

It's quite nonsensical to imagine that the idea of slave-owners existing on an ethical spectrum with regard to their treatment of their human chattel is somehow a uniquely and peculiarly American phenomenon, or even necessarily and universally erroneous. The Bible, after all, presents a very old and prominent counter-example, long predating the existence of the American colonies, with masters being enjoined to treat their slaves fairly and slaves to respect their masters, so it seems rather obvious that the idea of there being "good" and "bad" slave-holders is not something that grew out of the Atlantic slave-trade (it's also peculiar to consider that the relatively tiny slave-trade in North America tends to attract the lion's share of outrage while the much larger and more lethal North African and South American trades tend to go largely unmentioned, but that's a controversy for another time).

None of that, of course, is to say that the abolishment of slavery was not a good thing. I certainly would not want to be sold into a state of bondage and I doubt that anyone else in their right mind would either (though there is an argument to be made that slavery was ultimately done away more by the rise of machines that could do the same work faster and vastly more cheaply than by shifting ethics, something which I think Lucas might have hung a rather cheeky lampshade upon by giving those machines voices and personalities just like the humans they superseded).

Nor is it to say that the Jedi did not commit a moral transgression and fundamentally violate their principles by accepting command of what was effectively an army of enslaved child-soldiers. Lucas quite deliberately sets it up in The Phantom Menace that slavery is illegal in the Republic, and yet, when push comes to shove, the Jedi seem to be rather worryingly indifferent towards the ever-increasingly "ends justify the means" mentality that the Clone Wars impose upon them, with Obi-Wan's coldly pragmatic insistence upon leaving Oddball and his ARC-170 squadron to be cut to pieces by Tri-Droid fighters in order to slip through the Confederacy fleet's defenses over Coruscant being a particular stand-out (while Anakin, ever the empathetic "people person", wants to go back and try to save the embattled Clones).

Lucas thus very cleverly erects a sort of "he who fights monsters" paradox in service to his point about about how becoming war-fighters "corrupted" (his words) the Jedi Order. Slavery is a crime in the Republic, yet to defend the Republic (really, to forcibly prevent a group of systems from seceding) the Jedi are willing to not only become party to this crime, but to compound it by ordering wave after wave of slave-soldiers into a pan-galactic meat-grinder in the interests of the Republic's dubious political goal of militarily-enforced unity (the Jedi, ironically, having become so attached to their self-image as defenders of the Republic by this point that they're effectively incapable of taking a step back and realizing that the Republic may no longer be worth defending). That some of the Jedi are still able to recognize the basic humanity of the Clone Troopers from time, to empathize with them and show them a degree of kindness is fine (the Jedi are, after all, generally good people who are by the nature of their office meant to be concerned with the welfare of others) but it still amounts to slapping a band-aid on a sucking chest-wound as long as the Jedi Generals are blind to the basic moral dilemma that using the Clones to prosecute a war represents.

Karen Traviss, to her eternal credit, was able to recognize this quite clearly (possibly due in part to her own real-world military background) but for whatever reason many Star Wars fans have this peculiar blind-spot where the Prequel Jedi Order is concerned, seeing them as being entirely innocent and the tragedy of their downfall as being entirely the product of hostile outside forces (in defiance, again, of Lucas's insistence that the Order was corrupted by agreeing to participate as combatants and commanders in a galactic war) and despite the fact that the essential element of tragedy as a genre is how the hero is destroyed by the consequences of his own internal flaws.

According to this fanon interpretation, Anakin must stand alone, entirely unique in his failures and shortcomings, his ultimate fall no reflection upon his Jedi guardians and teachers. Obi-Wan can bear no responsibility, despite stating outride towards the end of Revenge of the Sith that he has failed Anakin. Yoda can accept no blame, despite admitting that he's screwed up so badly that he must literally go into exile to deal with the extent of his utter failure. Mace can receive no criticism, despite Lucas explicitly stating that the Jedi Master was wrong to try and summarily execute Palpatine and Anakin right to try to save the Sith Lord's life in that instance. Anakin and only Anakin must ever receive censure, like a sort of Force-sensitive scape-goat for the sins of the Order as a whole.

i don't think a lot of people in fandom realize the clones were actually slaves, heck, i don't even think the writers (at least i think) realized it...

I think itdepends on what you mean by fandom. The movies never made it overly explicit(in-your-face slavery) so I think the “casual fans” ever gave it much thought. Figuringthe overall vibe of the fandom on this topic is hard because the fandom is sofractured. I believe most fans who are interested in the EU know the clone armyis a slave army. The EU makes it pretty clear. The real problem is the peoplewho know but choose to ignore it or make excuses. I’ve seen fans argue thatreal victims of the creation of the clone army were the Jedi. And they were nottalking about Order 66, they were arguing that the people who suffered the mostfrom the Kaminoans work were the Jedi. That the Jedi had no choice but to accepta slave army and that’s makes them honorable victims. Those arguments offend mefar more than a fan who never realized they were a slave army because theynever looked into it.

Speaking ofoffensive arguments, the writers absolutely realized the clones were slaves butsucked at talking about it. It feels like they wanted to show they were slavesat the same time they wanted to show the Jedi as benevolent and Anakin asunreasonable. But the thing is, there’s no such a thing a good slave owner. Thesame way there’s nothing unreasonable about wanting to abolish slavery.

By notfully embracing the issue and exploring it in a satisfactory away they createdthis gray area where slavery sort of happens and it’s kind of bad. An area whereeveryone is somehow justified in not doing more. And when the writers don’t knowhow to approach the subject, it’s not surprising the fandom doesn’t either. It’seven less surprising that some take this slip-up as moral ambiguity and use itagainst the slaves to make their heroes look better (and send rape threats tothe writers that do want to talk about it).

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maincharactermuse · 1 day ago

Text

Come Back To Me.

(Find my masterlist - here)

Synopsis: In a quiet town, firefighter Harry Styles and schoolteacher Amelia Lockwood share a deep, established love, built on everyday moments and quiet strength. Their world is shaken when a devastating fire breaks out at Amelia’s school, leaving her injured. As Harry races against time, battling smoke and fear, he must confront the possibility of losing the woman he wants to spend forever with. Amidst hospital rooms and whispered promises, their bond is tested and strengthened, reminding them both what it means to come home - to each other.

Trigger Warnings: Fire and smoke inhalation injury, physical injury/burns, hospitalisation, trauma, anxiety and fear of losing a loved one.

———————————————————————————

The alarm was cruel. It always was.

Harry reached out with one arm, silencing it before it could shriek a second time. The other arm stayed firmly around Amelia, who made a low, tired sound of protest and tucked her face into his chest. Her hair smelled like lavender and something sugary, probably her students had made cookies again. She always brought them home, half-wrapped in foil, like treasures too small to leave behind.

“We should get up,” she mumbled against his skin.

“We should,” Harry agreed, making no effort to move.

A minute passed. Maybe two. Eventually, she sighed and wiggled out from under his arm, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder as she sat up. He watched her in the morning light - her profile soft and familiar, hair piled on top of her head in a messy twist. She tugged on the hem of his T-shirt, the one she’d stolen, and stood, stretching as she padded into the bathroom.

He followed a beat later, toothbrush in hand. The mirror was a little foggy from the old radiator that ran too hot, even in June. She was already dabbing concealer under her eyes, squinting with professional focus. Their elbows bumped once, then twice.

“You’re crowding me,” she said, without looking.

Harry bumped her again, on purpose this time. “This is my sink.”

“Your sink,” she repeated, deadpan. “That’s interesting… since I’m the one who keeps the toothpaste stocked.”

“Debatable,” he said through his toothbrush foam.

They danced around each other in the practiced rhythm of people who’d shared mornings a hundred times. He stepped back so she could grab her eyeliner; she shifted so he could spit. No announcements, no requests. Just movement. Trust.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine sputtered to life on its own, because one of them had prepped it last night. They always did. It had become a quiet competition: who could remember first, who could care better. She poured his mug without asking - one sugar, splash of oat milk, and he passed her hers the second it finished - black, hot, no room for error.

“You know me too well,” he said, lifting the mug in salute.

“You’re easy,” Amelia replied, wrapping her fingers around the warmth of hers. “Predictable.”

“Steady,” he countered, leaning against the counter. He bumped her hip again. “You love that about me.”

“I love that you don’t make me say it every morning,” she said, and took a sip.

He watched her over the rim of his cup, half-smiling. She was dressed for the classroom already - soft cream blouse, her favourite navy trousers, hair tucked neatly back. Her ID badge was already clipped to her lanyard, which was covered in stickers her students had given her. She hadn’t noticed the smudge of coffee on the back of her hand.

“You’ve got…” he reached over, wiping it gently with his thumb. “There.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked to his, and for a moment, the kitchen was still. Just light and warmth and two people who’d made a life around each other without ever really having to say, this is permanent.

Harry thought about the little velvet box in the sock drawer. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not even parents, who would’ve gone nuclear with excitement. But it had been there for weeks now, tucked between the things he wore the least. Waiting for the right moment.

Maybe this morning. Or maybe…

“Babe?”

Amelia was at the door now, slinging her tote over her shoulder and trying to juggle her keys. He blinked. Shook the thought off.

“Yeah,” he said, catching her water bottle before it tipped off the counter. “Coming.”

They met by the door like always. It was habit, but it was more than that, too.

She looked up at him and stepped in close. Their foreheads met, just for a second. Breath to breath.

“Come back to me,” she murmured. She always said it like it wasn’t dramatic, like it was just a thing they said. Just something small and soft to hold onto while the world spun on.

Harry closed his eyes and let it settle in his chest.

“Always,” he said.

And then she was out the door, walking briskly toward her car with a hand raised behind her in goodbye. He waited until the taillights disappeared before he grabbed his own jacket and headed out.

The air was bright already, just past seven. The fire station was only five minutes away. He climbed into the driver’s seat and leaned back for a moment, coffee in one hand, her words still echoing in his head.

He hadn’t proposed. Not yet. But he would. Soon. Maybe even tonight. He just had to make it through today.

———————————————————————————

Amelia Lockwood’s classroom always smelled faintly of Crayola markers and hand sanitiser - equal parts chaos and care. The walls were alive with colour: student art pinned in lopsided rows, laminated posters reminding kids to “use kind words” and “be brave when it’s hard,” and one slightly crooked banner above the whiteboard that read: Room 3B: The Brightest Stars in the School.

It was the kind of space you didn’t grow out of easily. Even the older kids peeked in sometimes during lunch, just to see if Beans, the class guinea pig, was out of his enclosure.

“Miss Lockwood! Beans pooped on the spelling sheets!” Lila Singh shrieked, halfway between horror and laughter.

“He what?” Amelia spun from the whiteboard, marker still in hand.

“Look!” Lila held up a sheet of paper spotted with tiny, unmistakable evidence. Diya, beside her, dissolved into a fit of giggles so dramatic her glasses nearly fell off her nose.

Amelia sighed, pressing her lips together to hide the smile. “Lila, Diya - new rule. No rodents on paper, even if they look like they’re proofreading.”

Ellie, quiet and observant in the back corner, raised her hand. “Can we still let him sit on the class plant during silent reading?”

Amelia considered this with mock seriousness. “Only if he promises to stop reading out loud.”

The class erupted into laughter, exactly the way it always did - high-pitched, chaotic, unfiltered joy. She loved it. She loved them. Every scraped knee, every oddly folded paper swan they brought her, every misspelled “you’re the best teecher” on her birthday cards.

It was just after ten, and they were working through their morning literacy block. Today’s focus: sequencing events in stories.

Amelia had written three sentences on the board:

• The dragon roared.

• The knight raised his sword.

• The sky turned black.

“Now,” she said, turning back to them. “Your job is to put those in the right order and then write your own ending. No laser swords, please, Milo.”

“Not even if it’s a space dragon?” Milo shot back instantly, pencil poised in rebellion.

Amelia gave him a look, the one that meant you’re lucky I like you. “You can write about space dragons during free writing this afternoon.”

He groaned, dramatically collapsing into his worksheet like the weight of his imagination was too much to bear.

Jayden, at the front, was frowning at his page. He’d been quiet today, more than usual. Amelia crouched beside him and gently tapped the eraser end of his pencil.

“You stuck?” she asked.

He nodded, lips pressed tight. Jayden was a thinker, not a talker. Ever since his parents separated, he’d become even quieter, especially when stories had fighting or yelling in them.

“Don’t worry about the dragon,” Amelia said softly. “Tell me what the knight is feeling. What’s it like to stand there, sword in hand, knowing something big is about to happen?”

Jayden’s eyes flicked to hers, and something eased in his shoulders. He started to write.

The room settled. Scratching pencils, low murmurs, and the occasional rustle from Beans’s enclosure were the only sounds. Amelia walked between desks, glancing over shoulders, offering quiet praise. Diya had drawn an entire dragon family in the margins of her paper. Lila, predictably, was writing a love story between the knight and the dragon.

“Tragic,” Lila explained. “They’re not supposed to be in love, but they are.”

“You’re eight,” Amelia said, eyebrows raised.

“I have older cousins,” Lila said matter-of-factly.

Amelia smiled again, despite herself.

Her phone buzzed gently on her desk. She crossed to check it—just a text from Harry.

Hope today’s a quiet one. x

Coffee’s still in my veins, so I’m surviving.

She leaned against her desk for a second, thumbs hovering.

Kids have staged a rodent uprising. We’re losing the war.

She was halfway through typing “Come back to me later for mop-up duty,” when the fire alarm chirped.

Just once. Short. High. Then silence.

The class barely reacted - most of them didn’t even glance up. They were used to drills. Amelia, however, froze for half a second, her eyes lifting instinctively to the blinking red sensor near the door. Nothing else followed. No siren. No flashing lights. Just that one chirp, like a warning trying to decide if it meant anything.

Probably nothing. Faulty sensor again. It happened twice last month.

Still, she didn’t finish the message to Harry. Instead, she tucked her phone back into her desk drawer and moved to open the window a crack. The air outside was bright and warm already, but it felt heavier than usual, like something pressing just slightly on the edges.

Behind her, Lila and Diya were giggling again, heads bent over the same paper.

Amelia smiled faintly and turned back to the board.

———————————————————————————

The bay doors were open to let in the June air, and Harry was halfway through checking the hose pressure valve on the back of Engine 2 when Callum barked across the station floor.

“Dev, if you’re not through that door in thirty seconds, I’m sending your paperwork to your mum.”

“I’m literally here!” Dev shouted, jogging in with a protein bar in his mouth. “Traffic was-”

“Lies,” Callum said, not even looking up from the clipboard in his hand. “You live four minutes away.”

Harry chuckled under his breath and closed the valve with a satisfying click. “Callum, you know he needs a dramatic entrance.”

Dev tossed his jacket onto the bench and pointed at Harry. “Exactly. Someone appreciates the flair.”

“Go check the tools,” Callum muttered. “Before I flair you.”

Harry moved to the driver’s side compartment, methodically scanning through the equipment - thermal imaging camera, pry tools, med kit. Everything in its place. Gear checks were daily routine, but he never did them on autopilot. It was muscle memory by now, sure, but he knew what happened when someone forgot even one thing. Missed gloves, jammed latch, bad batteries - any one of them could be the difference between clean rescue and disaster.

Max walked by, coffee in hand, offering him a quiet nod. “Slow morning so far.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Harry replied, wiping his hands on his uniform trousers.

His phone buzzed once in his back pocket, he figured it was Amelia. He hadn’t heard from her since that text earlier. Probably wrangling the class. He was tempted to send another message.

Don’t let beans overthrow the curriculum.

But he didn’t. Then the speaker crackled.

“All units, stand by. Report of smoke seen issuing from roof, possible structure fire - Ridley Avenue. Standby for full dispatch.”

Harry looked up, heart tightening reflexively.

Callum was already moving, clicking his pen once before tossing it to the desk. “Mount up.”

The team snapped into motion. Harry grabbed his jacket, gloves stuffed into one sleeve. Jayne was already climbing into the cab. The station’s tone shifted like a flipped switch, calm became command.

As they rolled out, the dispatcher’s voice came through again, clearer this time over the radio.

“Confirmed fire. Educational facility. Ridley Avenue Primary School. Repeat, Ridley Avenue Primary.”

Harry blinked.

What?

The engine’s siren kicked in, wailing through the air, but it barely registered over the sudden thunder in his chest.

“Did they just say-” he started, breath catching.

Jayne and Dev twisted in the seat ahead of him, reading from the dispatch tablet. “Ridley Avenue Primary. Looks like it started in the back building. Kitchen or staffroom maybe. One side’s fully engulfed.”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

“That’s-” He sat forward hard, nearly knocking his helmet off the bench. “That’s Mills’ school.”

Max turned his head slightly, eyes flicking up to the rearview.

“Amelia?” Callum asked from the passenger side, voice clipped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, already pulling out his radio. “That’s her school. That’s her fucking school-”

His hand was shaking as he pressed the call button, and he knew it.

“Control, Engine Two en route. ETA four minutes,” Callum said into the comm, calm and efficient.

Harry sat back, jaw clenched tight, fists white-knuckled in his lap. The sirens screamed, but they were nothing compared to the noise in his head.

He tried to focus on the checklist - gear, harness, breather - but all he could see was Amelia’s car in the lot, Amelia standing by the whiteboard with her soft voice and her classroom of tiny kids, Amelia laughing as she told him about the happenings of Lila and Diya.

And then smoke. Flames. Chaos.

He didn’t know how to breathe.

Max glanced at him in the mirror. “You okay, mate?”

“No.” Harry swallowed hard. “Not even close.”

There was a pause.

Then Dev - serious for once - said, “We’ll get there fast.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

The fire was real now. Not just a callout. Not just someone else’s emergency.

It was her.

———————————————————————————

The smoke was a living thing - writhing through corridors, clawing at every open space with hot, invisible fingers.

Harry hit the ground running, pulling on his mask as soon as he jumped down from the truck. Three engines had already lined the curb, lights strobing across the playground equipment like a nightmare kaleidoscope. Water sprayed in high arcs from the roofline, steam rising in bursts. The fire had eaten through half the back wing already - classrooms gone, windows shattered.

“East side!” Callum shouted over the roar. “Check for remaining personnel. We’ve got kids accounted for but a teacher went back in!”

Harry froze.

“A teacher?” he said sharply, already sprinting toward the double doors.

Jayne caught up beside him. “We don’t know who - could be anyone.”

But Harry knew. It was Amelia.

Because of course it was. Of course she went back.

He charged through the entrance, boots slamming against soaked linoleum. The hallway was nearly opaque with smoke. Flashing strobes overhead pulsed red through the haze like a heartbeat. His flashlight beam cut a narrow path through the gloom.

“Room 3B, Room 3B,” he muttered into his mask, turning left. His oxygen hissed steadily in his ears. It was too hot in here. Too thick. He knew the signs. They were already past the safe burn point. Structure was getting unstable.

“Harry!” Dev’s voice barked through comms. “Watch your time - backup’s clearing the northwest-”

“I know where she is,” Harry snapped, pushing through the corridor.

Room 3B’s door was warped from heat, but not burned through yet. He kicked at it once, twice, shoulder slamming into it on the third hit. It burst open with a crack of splintered wood.

The classroom was almost unrecognizable. Tables overturned. Artwork curling on the walls. The air was so thick he couldn’t see five feet in front of him.

“Amelia?” he shouted into the smoke, voice muffled.

Nothing. He swept the flashlight low.

Then he saw the pale shape - just inside the door, slumped on her side.

“Shit. No, no- Mills-”

He dropped beside her, grabbing her shoulders, rolling her gently onto her back. Her face was covered in soot, lashes blackened with smoke, and her skin - he could see red welts, burns along her arms and collarbone where her shirt had torn. One of her hands was still curled, like she’d been reaching for something.

“Breathe, come on, breathe-”

He ripped off his own mask and pressed it over her mouth instead, sealing it as best he could. She didn’t respond.

“Control, this is FF Styles. I have an unconscious civilian- female, burns, heavy smoke inhalation, I’m bringing her out now-”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He hooked one arm under her legs, the other behind her shoulders, and lifted her into his arms.

She wasn’t heavy. She never was. But right now, she felt like the weight of his entire world.

“Hang on, baby, please,” he whispered against her hair as he turned back toward the corridor.

The smoke fought him with every step. His mask dangled uselessly from his neck. His lungs burned raw. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear anything but the roar.

But then-

A voice on comms. “We see you, Harry - north hall! Straight ahead, twenty feet!”

Light broke through the grey.

He stumbled forward. Max and Dev burst through the fog and grabbed his arms, steadying him as he half-ran, half-collapsed through the last doorway.

They pulled Amelia from his grip as medics swarmed.

“Got her! She’s breathing, shallow pulse!”

Harry hit the pavement outside and coughed so hard he tasted blood. But she was there. She was alive.

Someone was putting an oxygen mask on her. Someone else was cutting open her sleeve to assess the burns. The world narrowed to that tiny circle around her face, her chest rising just barely under the medic’s hands.

“Mills,” he rasped, crawling forward, not caring who tried to stop him. “Mills, baby, can you hear me?”

Her head lolled to the side, eyes closed.

“Come on, Amelia, come on, don’t do this… don’t you dare-”

“Pulse steadying,” one of the paramedics said. “We need to move now!”

Harry moved with them. He didn’t let go of her hand.

———————————————————————————

The siren wailed again, louder inside the cramped ambulance than it ever had in the fire engine. The smell of antiseptic mixed with burnt fabric, thick and suffocating.

Harry sat beside Amelia, her body limp against the stretcher’s straps, her skin pale under the harsh fluorescent light. The medics worked silently but quickly, checking vitals and sliding an oxygen mask over her soot-smudged face.

“Her lungs sound really congested,” one of them murmured, voice clipped but steady. “Smoke inhalation’s bad. We might need to intubate.”

Harry nodded, his throat tight. He gripped her hand as if sheer force could bring her back.

“Stay with me, Mills. Please. Just breathe. You hear me?”

There was no response. No flutter of eyelids, no tightening of fingers.

The medic prepared the tube, and Harry looked away for a moment, swallowing hard to keep down the panic clawing up his throat. When they gently slipped the breathing tube down her throat, he gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

Minutes crawled by in the shaking ambulance. Every bump felt like a hammer blow to his chest.

He whispered her name again, over and over, though he knew she couldn’t hear it.

The paramedic adjusted her oxygen, checking monitors as the city lights blurred past the window.

“Almost there,” the other medic said from the driver’s seat, voice steady but low.

When they pulled up to the hospital’s emergency entrance, the ambulance screeched to a halt.

“Move her inside. Fast,” the lead medic barked.

Harry followed, heart pounding like a drum in his ears.

Inside, the ER was a cold, harsh place. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, nurses and doctors rushing past with clipped orders and wheels squeaking.One doctor approached quickly, a woman with sharp eyes and a calm but urgent voice.

“Sir, we need you to step back. We’re going to take over now.”

Harry’s breath hitched, his hands twitching toward Amelia’s stretcher.

“Wait- she’s my girlfriend- please, I need to be with her,” he said, voice cracking.

The doctor softened fractionally but remained firm. “I understand. But we need space to work. She’s in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

Harry swallowed, feeling like the ground had slipped beneath him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to panic.

He stepped back reluctantly, eyes locked on her pale face, the breathing tube, the monitors beeping steadily but without promise.

“Please, Mills,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”

———————————————————————————

The sterile smell of the hospital lobby was nothing like the acrid smoke choking Ridley Avenue. But it clung to Harry now, invisible and suffocating.

He sat in the stiff plastic chair outside the ICU waiting room, hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, heart pounding with every passing second.

Anger bubbled beneath the surface, raw and jagged.

Why did she go back in? he thought, eyes closed tight. Why Amelia? Always the one to run toward danger, never away from it.

But beneath that anger was something fiercer - something he couldn’t name but felt in every nerve ending.

Love. Damn near blinding love.

She wasn’t just a teacher. She was a fighter. A protector. And maybe that was why he’d fallen so hard for her - the way she’d put herself on the line without hesitation.

The thought of losing her tore at him like acid.

His phone vibrated. He ignored it. The minutes stretched into an hour, each one a small eternity.

And then the door opened.

A woman in scrubs stepped inside, her expression serious but gentle.

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry stood instantly, heart hammering.

“I’m Dr. Reyes. I’m overseeing Ms. Lockwood’s care.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“She’s stable at the moment,” Dr. Reyes said carefully. “We had to intubate her because of the smoke inhalation - it caused severe swelling in her airways. We’re monitoring her closely.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, tension unraveling with every word.

“Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor hesitated.

“She’s unconscious, and the burns will need treatment, but the biggest risk right now is the swelling in her lungs. We’re doing everything to reduce it. She’s on a ventilator, so she’s breathing with assistance.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Reyes nodded. “Yes. But only for a few minutes.”

He followed her down the hall, heart pounding louder than his footsteps.

Outside Amelia’s room, he paused.

Through the glass, she lay still - pale, tubes running from her mouth and arms, machines beeping softly.

He felt every ache in his chest, every tear threatening to fall, and swallowed it back.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You scared the hell out of me.”

His fingers pressed against the glass, barely able to reach her.

“I hate that you went back in. But I love you so much for it.”

He stayed there a moment longer, drawing strength from her quiet presence.

Then, as the nurse came to gently usher him out, he promised silently, I’m here, Mills. I’m not going anywhere.

———————————————————————————

He hadn’t called.

That was the first sign.

It was a habit - after every shift, even the slow ones, Harry would send her a quick voice note or a sleepy “off to bed, love you” text. Nothing came through by dinner. And Amelia tried not to spiral, but the longer the silence dragged, the more her hands fidgeted and her mind filled in the blanks.

Then, just past nine, her phone buzzed.

Harry: Can I come over?

No emoji. No kiss at the end. Just five words, sent almost an hour ago.

She was already pulling on a hoodie and unlocking the door when she heard the knock.

When she opened it, Harry stood in the hallway, half-slung out of his uniform jacket, eyes tired and skin pale beneath the ash on his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, reaching for him. “Harry.”

“I’m okay,” he rasped, raising a hand. “Just- can I come in?”

She stepped aside wordlessly, watching as he walked in like he was made of glass.

When the door closed behind him, she turned on the light and only then, saw the bandages wrapped around his forearm, the wince as he moved his ribs.

“You’re hurt.”

“I know,” he said softly.

Amelia’s voice trembled as she crossed the room. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, that didn’t work.”

He cracked a tired smile. “Fair point.”

She took his jacket, then his shirt - carefully, slowly, wincing every time he did. His undershirt was sweat-soaked and torn near the side where a purpling bruise was forming beneath his ribs.

“Jesus, Harry.”

“Some old boiler exploded during a call-out,” he said, settling into her kitchen chair like his bones had turned to dust. “Caught part of the wall. Nothing major.”

“This is not nothing major.”

“I’ve had worse,” he said, with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better.”

Her hands were gentle as she grabbed the first aid kit, unscrewing a jar of cooling cream and lightly dabbing it over the exposed burns on his arm. He winced, teeth gritting, but didn’t pull away.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she said quietly.

“I don’t like being like this,” he muttered.

Amelia met his eyes. “You could’ve stayed at the station. Or gone home. Why here?”

He hesitated.

Then he said, “Because this is where I feel safe.”

That undid her.

She didn’t say anything - just set the jar down and gently cupped his cheek, brushing soot from beneath his eye with her thumb.

“I thought I could handle this job, and the danger, and all the unpredictability,” she whispered, voice cracking. “But it’s so much harder when it’s you.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to quit,” she added quickly. “I love what you do. I’m just… scared.”

“I know,” he repeated, leaning forward, forehead pressing softly to hers.

It was the same way they always grounded each other. Not a kiss. Not words.

Just breath. Skin to skin. A shared silence that said I’m still here.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he murmured after a beat.

“You did.”

“But I also wanted to be where you were.”

Her hands stayed on him as his shoulders finally relaxed. As if her presence alone made the bruises sting less.

She made him tea that night and sat with him on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, gently tracing the bandage on his arm while he drifted between exhaustion and comfort.

And even though they still lived in separate homes, that was the night she left a spare toothbrush in her bathroom drawer for him.

———————————————————————————

The hospital room had settled into a dull rhythm. Beeping monitors. The low hum of filtered air. The soft hiss of oxygen.

Harry sat slouched in the chair beside her bed, head tipped forward against his forearm, her hand still tucked in his. He hadn’t left in three days - not really. A quick rinse in the staff showers, a bite of hospital coffee and toast - but always back before she could notice he was gone.

Not that she had noticed. Not yet.

The steady rise and fall of the machine breathing for her was both comfort and torment. Keeping her alive - but also keeping her distant. Somewhere he couldn’t reach.

He didn’t cry often. But he had. Quietly. Late at night. When the nurse shut the door softly behind her and he was left with nothing but time and what-ifs.

What if she hadn’t made it?

What if he hadn’t found her in time?

What if the last thing she ever did was run back into a burning building… and never come out?

He blinked hard, rubbed his jaw, and looked up at her again.

Still. Too still.

Then-

A twitch.

A shift beneath her eyelids.

Harry straightened instantly, the chair screeching softly beneath him. “Amelia?”

Another twitch. This time her fingers moved - slight, uncertain - but enough to light something in his chest. He stood fast, eyes wide, panic and hope crashing over him in equal measure.

“Hey- Mills?” He stepped closer, touching her wrist. “Can you hear me?”

Her head shifted slightly, brows drawing in - and then her whole body jerked, a choking, gagging sound escaping her throat.

The breathing tube.

“Shit- hey! I need help in here!” Harry’s voice cracked as he reached for the call button and slammed it with his palm. “She’s waking up- she’s choking- please!”

The door burst open seconds later. A nurse swept in with calm urgency, already pressing the intercom for assistance. “She’s gagging on the ET tube - we’ve got a gag reflex, she’s coming out of sedation.”

Another nurse entered as Harry stepped back, hands clenched uselessly by his sides.

They moved fast - one stabilizing her head, the other adjusting the monitor, then gently, carefully sliding the tube from her throat as she gasped and coughed, her body curling instinctively with the force of breath returning.

The sound of it, her first real breath, nearly brought him to his knees.

“Easy now, Amelia. You’re okay,” the nurse said, soothingly. “That’s it. Breathe slowly for me.”

She was crying - not full sobs, just tears, silent and hot down her cheeks, confusion and pain flickering in her half-lidded eyes.

Harry was beside her before they gave the all-clear.

“I’m here,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m right here.”

Her eyes finally landed on him, dazed and glassy, but hers.

He reached for her hand again. She didn’t speak — couldn’t, not yet - but her fingers squeezed his.

That was enough to wreck him.

A soft sob escaped him as he pressed his forehead to her hand. “You scared the absolute hell out of me, Mills. Jesus.”

She blinked, slowly, trying to form a word. Her lips moved - sorry - but the sound didn’t come.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t try. Just rest. You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

The nurses monitored her a bit longer, adjusting her oxygen mask, checking her levels. One of them touched Harry’s arm as they left.

“She’s tough. Give her a minute.”

He nodded but didn’t look away from Amelia’s face.

When they were alone again, he sat down, still holding her hand. She was watching him now, really watching - her brows furrowed slightly as if she could already sense the weight he’d been carrying.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Just… so you know.”

Her mouth trembled. She blinked once. A tear slid sideways across her temple.

Harry smiled - watery and crooked. “Yeah. You don’t have to say it. You already did.”

———————————————————————————

It was the first time in three days that Harry sat in silence without feeling like the world was collapsing around him.

The monitors still beeped. The oxygen mask still hissed. Machines still blinked their coded reassurance. But Amelia… Amelia was sleeping again. Not the kind of unconscious sleep that left his chest hollow and terrified, but real sleep.

Natural. Breathing on her own.

She’d drifted off after the doctor finished his checks. The breathing tube had come out hours earlier, and her vitals had stabilized. They were still watching her closely, but the worst, they said, was over.

Harry didn’t move from his chair.

He just sat there, one arm on the edge of her bed, his hand wrapped gently around hers like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. He hadn’t dared let go since she first woke that morning and choked on the tube - the sound of her body fighting for breath again still haunted the corners of his mind.

She’d cried. He hadn’t expected that.

She hadn’t spoken then, not really, but the look in her eyes had said everything. Confusion, pain, apology. Guilt.

And he’d just kept saying the same thing: You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

He looked at her now - pale, bruised, her hair a tangled halo against the stark hospital pillow - and his chest ached with something sharp and enormous.

God, he loved her. And he’d almost lost her.

He hadn’t even known where they were going when the call came in. Just a structure fire, mid-morning, downtown - and then in the truck, someone said the name of the school and everything inside him snapped.

He could still hear his own voice - panicked, wild - “Tell me it’s not the school. Not her school.”

And it was.

It had taken everything in him to do the job and not just tear through the smoke yelling her name. He didn’t even know he’d found her until he was cradling her in his arms, her body limp and streaked with soot, smoke curling off her hair, her fingers still curled like she’d been trying to protect something.

The image had burned itself into his brain. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

A quiet rustle pulled him out of the thought - the soft sound of sheets shifting, then the faintest cough, dry and strained.

His head snapped up.

“Amelia?”

Her face twitched, then again. Eyes fluttered beneath lashes. He stood quickly, hand tightening gently around hers. “Hey, Mills? You with me?”

She blinked slowly, then again - eyes unfocused, adjusting - and finally locked onto his.

A tired, fragile kind of recognition passed over her face. Her lips parted.

“Harry…” Her voice was barely more than air - hoarse, dry, painful - but it was her.

“Hey,” he said, swallowing hard. “You’re awake.”

She nodded weakly, brows pulling together like she was trying to remember how her body worked.

He pushed a few strands of hair back from her forehead, thumb brushing her temple. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe.”

Her eyes filled almost instantly.

“Kids,” she whispered, each letter rough like it scraped her throat to form. “Are they-?”

He nodded quickly. “They’re okay. All of them. Your whole class made it out. No major injuries. Everyone at the school is okay.”

She sagged back into the pillow with a shaky exhale, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks.

“I went… back…” Her voice broke on the word. “Ethan-he tripped- he was scared-”

Harry leaned in closer, heart in his throat, but he stopped her with a gentle touch to her wrist.

“Hey. No. You don’t have to explain.”

She shook her head faintly. “I couldn’t leave them. I-I told them I’d always keep them safe.”

“And you did,” Harry said, his voice cracking. “You did, Mills.”

She closed her eyes as more tears escaped. He watched her struggle to breathe steadily, to keep control, and he hated that he couldn’t take the pain from her. The guilt. The memory.

“You’re okay,” he said again, gently but firmly. “That’s what matters. The rest- just let it go for now, yeah?”

Her fingers curled weakly around his.

“I thought… I wasn’t gonna make it out.”

He bowed his head, forehead brushing the back of her hand. “Me too,” he admitted. “But you did. You came back.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment. Just looked at him, really looked, and then whispered, “You found me.”

He smiled, a soft, watery thing. “Always.”

He felt her fingers shift, trying to bring his hand closer. He gave in easily, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

“You can rest,” he said, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She exhaled, soft and uneven, and her eyes drifted closed again - but this time, he wasn’t afraid.

This time, her breathing was steady. This time, he knew she’d wake up again.

———————————————————————————

The room was quiet again, morning light soft through the blinds, filtered and gentle. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and the paper-cup coffee Harry had been nursing for hours. Amelia blinked slowly, her throat dry but not on fire anymore. Her chest ached when she breathed too deeply, but it was manageable now - like her body had stopped screaming and settled into a dull, exhausted whisper.

She turned her head carefully. He was there. Still.

Slumped awkwardly in the chair beside her bed, arms folded, chin resting in one hand. His curls were a mess. His shirt was wrinkled. He hadn’t shaved - not that she minded - but his eyes looked heavier than she’d ever seen them.

“Harry…” Her voice cracked, low and raspy.

His head snapped up instantly. “Hey.” He was already leaning forward, eyes wide, like he thought she might vanish if he looked away. “You’re awake again.”

She gave a small nod, grimacing a little. “Still here?”

“‘Course I’m still here.” He smiled, but it was tight, cautious. “Where else would I be?”

Amelia tried to shift a little in the bed. Her muscles protested, but not as loudly as before. “You look… awful.”

He let out a quiet laugh and reached for the water cup on her tray. “Thanks, baby. That’s the reassurance I needed this morning.”

She smiled too, just barely, and took a slow sip as he held the straw for her. The water felt like heaven on her throat, even if every swallow still came with effort.

“You haven’t left,” she rasped, voice thin but steadier than yesterday. “Have you?”

Harry tilted his head. “Nope.”

“Not even to shower?”

“Nope.”

She sighed and let her eyes close briefly. “You smell like smoke and stress.”

“Perfect. That’s exactly the scent I was going for.”

When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her - not smiling this time. Just looking, like he needed to memorize every freckle, every blink, to believe she was really in front of him.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly.

Her heart twisted. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know where you were at first. And then when I did—when I saw you—”

He stopped. She saw his throat work around the rest of the sentence like it was too heavy to speak.

“I thought you were gone,” he finished, barely above a whisper.

Amelia reached out slowly, touching his fingers. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

“You ran back in for a student,” he said. “They told me. You could’ve died.”

She didn’t deny it. There was no point.

“I didn’t think. I just…” Her voice caught. “I saw Ethan fall. I told them I’d get them out. I had to.”

Harry shook his head, but not in frustration - just in something close to heartbreak. “Of course you did. That’s who you are.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just full of everything that didn’t need to be said.

“You should go home,” she murmured eventually. “Shower. Sleep in a bed that doesn’t beep.”

He raised a brow. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He leaned forward again, closer this time. “I’ll go when you’re home. Not before.”

Amelia exhaled, weak but affectionate. “Stubborn firefighter.”

Harry grinned. “Stubborn teacher.”

She smiled back, though it faded when she studied him. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red from lack of sleep, and something deeper. Something she couldn’t quite reach.

“Talk to me,” she said softly.

He looked down, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “It made everything real. You know?”

“What did?”

“All of it.” He swallowed. “How fast things can change. How close I came to losing you. I kept thinking - what if that had been it? What if I’d never gotten to say the things I wanted to say?”

Amelia’s fingers squeezed his.

“You’ve always said them,” she whispered. “Every morning when you make my coffee. Every time you fold my laundry even though I ask you not to. Every time you kiss me on the forehead when you think I’m asleep.”

His jaw tightened.

“I love you,” she said, voice raw. “I don’t need anything else.”

“I do.” His voice cracked. “I need a future with you. Not just mornings and maybes. I need to know you’re mine - properly.”

She blinked slowly. “Harry…”

He didn’t reach for his pocket - not yet. There was no box. No grand gesture. Just him, exhausted and open, sitting in a shitty hospital chair, holding her hand like it was sacred.

“Not asking you right now,” he said gently. “You’re still on morphine. I want your full faculties when I ask you to marry me.”

A laugh broke from her throat, hoarse and surprised. It turned into a cough, and he was instantly on his feet, adjusting the oxygen.

When she settled again, still smiling despite the pain, she whispered, “You’re not subtle, you know that?”

He leaned down, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Didn’t plan to be.”

———————————————————————————

The hospital doors slid shut behind them, and the sharp antiseptic smell gave way to the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun. Amelia leaned against Harry’s hand, holding on like it was a lifeline after days that felt unreal.

“My legs are fine,” she murmured, voice scratchy but steady. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”

Harry grinned, fingers tightening around hers. “Humour me, will you? You look like you might collapse any second.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “Maybe I want to collapse. On my terms.”

He laughed softly. “You’re impossible.”

The car hummed along slowly, Harry’s hand warm and steady in hers. The ache of exhaustion settled deep in her bones, but the thought of home pressed a soft ache in her chest.

When the front door swung open, the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla wrapped around her. Safe. Warm. Real.

She made for the couch, muscles weak but determined.

“Let me help,” Harry said gently.

“No,” she said, voice firm though her legs wobbled. “I’m fine.”

He settled beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “You sure? You don’t have to be a hero all the time.”

“I’m not trying to be,” she whispered.

They sat quietly for a moment, the weight of everything settled between them. Then Harry’s shoulders shook with a soft, sudden sob.

Amelia’s arms wrapped around him instinctively. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He buried his face in her shoulder. “I was so scared,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if you’d make it.”

“You’re here now,” she said softly. “That’s what matters.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red but fierce. “I love you so much. I don’t think I ever realized how much until now.”

She reached up, cupping his cheek. “Me too.”

Harry swallowed hard, then laughed shakily. “You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

She smiled, tired but warm. “Takes one to know one.”

They stayed like that, tangled up in each other, the quiet comfort of home healing what the fire had nearly taken.

———————————————————————————

The apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt fragile and precious after the storm they’d weathered. Sunlight sifted softly through the curtains, falling in warm patches on the worn couch where Amelia sat, wrapped in one of his old shirts. She looked small and fierce all at once - her skin still tender and raw in places, the burns stubborn reminders of how close everything had come to falling apart.

He set the tray of supplies down gently on the coffee table and knelt beside her, careful not to jostle her. Changing the dressings was a delicate dance - steady hands, soothing words, and more patience than he ever thought he had. But every time he peeled back the bandages and saw the pink, healing skin beneath, it felt like a new kind of closeness, a way of saying, without words, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, steady.

Amelia nodded, biting her lip as he slowly and carefully cleaned the wounds with sterile cloths. He hated how vulnerable she looked, but there was something fierce in the way she met his gaze, a stubborn courage that made his chest ache. She was everything he ever wanted to protect.

He reached for the burn cream, the familiar coolness a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from her skin. As he spread it gently over her neck, a sudden urgency gripped him - a raw, aching need to stop just caring for her and start making it official. To stop spending any more time in that limbo of what ifs and maybes.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, almost afraid to break the fragile peace. “About us. About the future.”

Amelia let out a breath, eyes half-closed as the ointment settled on her skin. “Don’t say that while you’re putting goo on my neck,” she teased, voice hoarse but light.

Harry chuckled, the sound soft but full of meaning. “Fair enough. But I mean it. I want to marry you. I want all of it… the good, the messy, the forever.”

She looked up, her tired eyes shining with something raw and real. “I want that too,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “Just… not while you’re smearing goo all over me and I feel gross.”

He smiled, brushing a stray curl back from her face. “Promise me you’ll say yes?”

Amelia traced her fingers over the tender skin, still raw from the burns but healing. “Only if you promise to keep doing this - keep being here.”

His throat tightened. “I promise. Always.”

As he finished with the dressing, Harry felt a fierce protectiveness rise up. Not just for her body, but for their life together. Every minute he’d spent waiting, every second he hadn’t called her fiancée, felt like time stolen from what was meant to be.

He couldn’t stand the thought of another day passing without making it official. Without giving her the certainty she deserved.

He swallowed hard, words catching in his throat, but the look she gave him - soft, unwavering - gave him strength.

“This-” he gestured between them, “this is everything to me. And I don’t want to spend one more minute not being your fiancé.”

Her lips quirked into a tired smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Well, you’d better hurry up then.”

Harry laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in days. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath his lips.

They sat like that for a long moment - two people stitched together by love, healing, and the messy, beautiful reality of being human.

The burn cream had been applied. The dressings fresh. But it was the quiet promises between them that truly sealed the healing.

———————————————————————————

The door creaked open, and the familiar creak of the old wooden floor greeted her like a whisper from home. Amelia stood in the hallway, shoulders slumped, the weight of the day pressing down hard enough to make her knees ache.

“Harry?” Her voice was hoarse from talking all day, but she tried to sound lighter than she felt. “Do we have ice cream? Because I’m gonna need it. I had the worst fucking day.”

She rounded the corner, expecting the usual quiet living room or the clutter of Harry’s guitar case tossed carelessly near the couch.

Instead, her breath caught.

Candles flickered softly, casting a golden glow over the space. A handful of wildflowers - her favorites - were arranged carefully on the coffee table. And there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was Harry. His hair was a little messier than usual, but his smile was wide, hopeful, and completely, utterly hers.

In his hand was a small box - not big, but heavy with meaning.

“Amelia,” he said softly, voice steady even though his eyes were shining. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Her heart hammered so loud it was almost deafening. The exhaustion, the weight of the day, it all melted away, leaving only this moment, perfect and terrifying and beautiful.

Harry opened the box to reveal a simple, elegant ring - a thin band with a tiny cluster of diamonds catching the candlelight like stars.

“You’re my person,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “The woman who makes every day better, who’s fearless in the face of anything, who I want to grow old with.”

Amelia’s throat tightened. She dropped her bag with a soft thud and took a cautious step closer.

“I want to be your fiancé, and then your husband,” he said, as if the words were both a promise and a question.

Her lips curved into a smile that was a mix of relief and overwhelming love. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Harry’s grin widened as he slipped the ring onto her finger. She marveled at the way it sparkled, but even more, the way his eyes lit up just looking at her.

The moment hung between them for a beat longer, before Amelia’s practical side, that teacher’s voice in her head, nudged forward.

“You know,” she began, voice playful, “there’s something else you need to do to be considered a fiancé.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face. “Oh? And what’s that?”

She grinned, stepping closer, her hand still in his. “Get a dog.”

Harry blinked, surprised and amused. “You teach kids with that logic?”

She shrugged, mock serious. “Hey, it’s a well-known fiancé requirement. If you want to seal the deal, you’ve got to prove you can handle puppy chaos.”

He laughed, deep and full, the sound wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Then he leaned in and kissed her silly, like it was the only thing that mattered.

“I guess we’d better start looking at puppies, then.”

Amelia’s eyes sparkled with tears and laughter. For the first time in weeks, all the fear, all the uncertainty, felt miles away. All that mattered was here. Now. Them.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles x oc

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pompuff · 3 days ago

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Us funnybunny shippers have been starved for TOO LONG and now we’re finally being fed 🤤

Ramble under the cut

Funnily enough, their dynamic and banter is *exactly* as I expected it to be, as well as Ragatha’s reaction to them connecting. Wether she’s feeling jealous, possessive, protective, possibly worried that Jax is gonna get hurt again, or just can’t handle a shift in the social status quo, she’s clearly feeling some type of way, and it’s both a little weird and extremely validating for me after having written several future chapters (that I swear I'll post EVENTUALLY) of my fanfic where that’s exactly how she’s behaving.

I’m also really glad there’s more to Jax than meets the eye, canonically speaking. We all knew it was so, but DAMN do I ever love the way they’ve written him 🤩 he’s not too much of an asshole, not too sweet, he’s just right. I get the feeling him throwing Pomni out of the truck was his version of hazing her, getting a vibe for how she’ll react and how far he can push it, etc. Not that it makes it okay, just that it makes sense, considering his disposition and what he’s clearly been through.

I also wanna know what "that thing in the hall" is 👀...

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc episode 5 #funnybunny #jax x pomni #pomni x jax

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tinyshyteacup · 2 days ago

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Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16 @brianna-merlim @staley83 @oceanticspace @insaneintheemembranev2 @dummylovewp @xmiaacxio @meyukoo @grilka @itsgivingdepression @timebomb1101 @inejghafasdagger @koshkahhh @juliperezsilveira @pandaofsilentdeath @straw--b3rry @nynxtea

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TW: Cussing, Walkers (Zombies), fluff, kissing, cuddling, hurt/comfort, angst, Negan is a Villan, SA (Implied, offscreen), PTSD symptoms, threats of violence.

Part 48

Dead Weight - Part 49

The morning light filters through the heavy curtains of your shared room, casting golden patterns across the walls. You're warm, cocooned in blankets and the familiar comfort of Daryl's arms around you. His chest rises and falls steadily against your back, and for the frist time you feel truly safe.

Daryl's face is buried in your hair. The relief of you washes over him - that you haven't pulled away, that your seeking comfort in his presence even after everything.

His flannel hangs loose on your frame, having shifted during the night to expose your shoulder. Without fully waking, Daryl nuzzles into the revealed skin, breathing in your scent. He trails his nose softly across your shoulder blade, the gesture so tender and unconscious that it makes your heart ache in the best way.

When he presses a unconscious feather-light kiss there, you startle slightly, a reflexive tension that he immediately feels.

"S'me," he whispers against your skin, his voice rough with sleep. "Jus' me."

You relax back into him, turning to face him. This is the first time he's slept without a shirt with you and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes - the vulnerability of being exposed.

"Y'okay?" he asks quietly, searching your face.

You nod, understanding the silent request, he leans down to kiss you softly. It's careful, gentle and slow.

Your fingertips trace along a scar on his shoulder, one of many that mark his skin like a roadmap of old pain. He tenses slightly under your touch, still unused to being seen so clearly, but he doesn't pull away.

"So handsome," you whisper a sleepy smile ghosting across your face, the words make him duck his head shyly, wonder and disbelief warring in his chest.

Your fingers drift across his collarbone, following another raised line of scar tissue. When you reach the one that cuts across his ribs - jagged and cruel - your touch becomes even more gentle. Daryl's breathing hitches, not from desire but from memory.

You notice the tension that suddenly grips him, the way his muscles go rigid under your touch. "Daryl?"

"It's... s'nothin'," he mutters, but his eyes have gone distant.

The ghost of his father's voice echoes in his mind - "Quit your snivelin', boy, or I'll give you somethin' to really cry about."

"Hey," you whisper, cupping his face gently. "You're safe. We're safe."

The tenderness in your voice brings him back, grounds him. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

When you start to get up to go change from his flannel, Daryl immediately turns away. He starts chewing on his thumbnail, a nervous habit from childhood, his hair falling forward to hide his face like a curtain.

Can't let her think I'm just waitin' to take advantage. She trusts me, and I ain't gonna...

"Daryl," you say softly, and when he risks a glance back through his hair, you're smiling at him - the first genuine smile he's seen since before the Sanctuary.

"I wouldn't sleep so soundly if i didn't feel safe." You say stepping behind the screen in the corner of the room to change.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut - in the best possible way. But he still shakes his head quickly, turning away again. He brings his bottom lip between his teeth to worry it stubly.

Look at ya, Merle familiar voice jeers. Darylina, you sound like some lovesick schoolgirl. You want to bend her over and make her scream your name, admit it.

The crude image makes Daryl's face burn with shame, not because he doesn't want you - God, he does, desperately - but because Merle's voice makes it sound dirty, quick and wrong.

But the wanting is there, has been there for so long it's become part of him. He wants to touch every inch of your skin, wants to show you with his hands and mouth how precious you are, wants to love you so completely you forget every hurt that's ever been done to you.

The thought makes heat pool low in his belly, makes his breathing shallow.

When he finally turns around, you've stepped back out adjusting the laces of the medieval gown, and the soft smile you give him is worth every second of his internal struggle.

Still shy, you think fondly, watching the way he ducks his head, still not quite meeting your eyes. Even now, under everything he's just shy, sweet Daryl.

"You know the one person you dont have to protect me from yourself," you tell him gently, stepping closer. "I know who you are, Daryl. And I know who you're not."

Breakfast in the great hall is a marvel of medieval pageantry. Long wooden tables with simple food, and the Kingdom's residents eat with obvious enjoyment despite their circumstances. You find yourself studying everything - the way they've set up their kitchens, the foods they're serving, the gaps in their nutritional planning.

"This place is somethin' else," Daryl murmurs.

"It's like a living museum," you agree, reaching for a bowl "They've really committed to it, kinda reminds me of home."

After breakfast, Carol suggests exploring the gardens, and you can see Daryl's immediate reluctance to let you out of his sight.

"I'll be with Carol," you promise, and something in your voice - maybe the fact that you're making the choice yourself instead of being told what to do - makes him nod.

"Alright. But Y'need anything, you just holler."

In the gardens, you walk slowly beside Carol, the dress moving naturally with your steps. The dress fits like it was made for you, the fabric rich and well-crafted, and you find yourself automatically adjusting to its weight and flow.

"You move like you've worn clothes like this before," Carol observes, watching as you kneel carefully beside a struggling patch of vegetables, your skirts arranged with practiced ease.

"Kinda" you admit, then fall quiet, focusing on the plants. "Some of these crops aren't doing too hot."

You move along the garden borders, noting the various plants growing wild. "Look at this," you say, pointing to what most would consider weeds. "That's millet. I didn't know you could grow it in America."

"Is it useful?"

"Incredibly. It grows in poor soil, its can be its own version of oats or flour, tends to grow where other grains fail."

Carol crouches beside you, watching as you examine the plants with obvious expertise. "You know a lot about this."

"I guess" You're quiet for a moment, then you stand slowly brushing dirt off your palm.

As you continue walking, Carol's expression grows more thoughtful. Eventually, she leads you to a quiet spot near what looks like an old workshop.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks, settling on a wooden bench.

You nod, settling beside her.

"You know I was married to Ed before all this." Her voice is steady, but you can hear the old pain underneath as you nod.

"He was... he was a shitty excuse for a man. He hurt me. For years. Controlled everything I did, everything I said. Made me feel like I was nothing."

She pauses, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"I have a pretty good idea what Negan would have been like," she continues quietly. "Men like that... they use the same playbook. They take your power, your choices."

You feel tears prick at your eyes, and Carol reaches over to squeeze your hand.

"What I'm trying to say is - it's okay if things are hard for a while. If you don't feel like yourself. If you're angry or scared or confused. That's normal. That's your mind trying to heal from something it was never supposed to endure."

The understanding in her voice breaks something open in your chest, and suddenly the words are tumbling out.

"I am angry," you admit, your voice thick with emotion. "But not just about what he did to me. I'm furious about what he did to Daryl. The torture, the psychological games, the way he used me to hurt him." Your hands clench into fists. "I keep thinking about how Daryl probably blames himself, how he thinks it's somehow his fault that I protected him in the first place."

Carol nods, her own eyes bright with unshed tears.

"And I feel so guilty," you continue, the words coming faster now. Your voice drops to barely a whisper. "Because I can still feel his hands on me sometimes. When I'm trying to sleep, or when someone moves too quickly..." You wrap your arms around yourself unconsciously.

"He didn't threaten me, Carol. He... he made sure I knew exactly what would happen to Daryl if I didn't ... comply."

Your voice cracks as you try to scoff on the last word, and Carol's face hardens with a fury that's rarely seen but unmistakably ever present.

"I want to kill him for it," you continue, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside. "I want him dead for what he did to Daryl, for how he leveraged me against him. For all of it."

"That's not something to feel guilty about," Carol says firmly. "Wanting to protect the people you love, wanting justice for what was done to them - to you - that's human."

"But he's a person," you whisper, your body trembling slightly. "Not a walker. He's a living, breathing person, and I want him dead. Sometimes I can still smell his cologne, still feel..." you shudder, unable to finish the sentence. "What does that make me?"

Carol is quiet for a long moment, and when she speaks, her voice is gentle but sure.

"It makes you someone who loves deeply," she says. "Someone who's been hurt and traumatized and is trying to make sense of it all. Ed was a person too, but that didn't make what he did to me any less wrong. And when he died, I felt... relief. Not guilt. Relief."

She turns to face you fully, her expression serious.

"You don't have to forgive him. You don't have to feel bad for wanting him to pay for what he did. Some people... some people forfeit their right to mercy when they choose to hurt others the way they did."

Tears are streaming down your face now, and Carol pulls you into a gentle hug.

"You're not bad for feeling this way. You're just human, trying to heal from something inhuman." she whispers.

"Thank you," you whisper against her shoulder. "For understanding. For not making me feel like a monster."

"Never," Carol says firmly. "You're one of the strongest people I know. And you have people who love you - Daryl especially. That love, that connection - it's going to help you heal. It's going to help you both heal."

Later that afternoon, the arrival of Rick, Glen, and several others from Alexandria shifts the entire atmosphere of the Kingdom. There are careful embraces - everyone has learned to approach you gently, to let you initiate contact.

Glen's hug is warm and familiar, and you don't flinch away from him this time.

Progress.

"God, I've missed you," he says, holding you at arm's length to study your face. "How are you doing? Really?"

"Better," you say, and mean it. "Getting there."

"Maggie's at Hilltop," Glen says, his face lighting up the way it always does when he talks about his wife. "She's doing well, and the baby... you can see the tiniest bump now. It's so small, but it's there." His hand unconsciously moves to his stomach, as if he can feel the life growing inside his wife. "I miss her so much it hurts, but knowing she's safe, that the baby's healthy..."

"I'm so happy for you both," you say, and the joy in your voice is genuine despite everything you've been through.

When you're done talking with Glen, Daryl finds himself in his own conversation with him.

"She looks better," Glen observes, watching you laugh at something Rick is saying. "Still fragile, but... stronger maybe?"

"Yeah," Daryl agrees, though his jaw tightens. "What that bastard did to her... m'gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill Negan for what he did to her."

Glen studies his face, noting the rage barely contained beneath the surface. "Daryl—"

"Nah, don't try to talk me out of it. You didn't see her after. You didn't see how she was breakin' apart." Daryl's hands clench into fists. "Ain't somethin' that can be forgiven."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of wanting him dead," Glen says quietly. "I want him dead too. We all do. But don't let that rage consume you. Don't let it take away from what she needs right now."

Daryl nods, but Glen can see the promise of violence burning in his eyes.

The war council takes place in Ezekiel's throne room, with Shiva lounging regally beside the King's chair. You find yourself studying the great cat with fascination rather than fear - there's something about being in Kingdom that makes even the most fantastic elements feel natural.

Rick makes his case with passionate intensity, explaining about the Saviors, about Negan's brutality, about the need for the communities to stand together.

"Your Majesty," Rick says, his voice carrying the weight of leadership and desperation, "we can't do this alone. We need allies. We need Kingdom."

Ezekiel listens with the gravity of a true king, but his response is measured and cautious. "I understand your desire for justice, Rick Grimes. And I am deeply sympathetic to what your people have suffered." His eyes find you briefly, a flash of understanding passing between you. "But my first responsibility is to my people. To their safety and wellbeing."

"The Saviors will come for you eventually," Michonne points out. "They always do."

"Perhaps. But for now, they honor our arrangement. They take their tribute and leave us in peace." Ezekiel's voice carries the weight of difficult decisions. "I cannot risk my people's lives on the possibility of future conflict."

The discussion continues, growing more heated as Rick presses his case. You find yourself shrinking back slightly, the raised voices triggering your anxiety even though you know these people would never hurt you.

Daryl notices immediately, moving subtly closer until his shoulder brushes yours. The contact is grounding, reminding you that you're safe.

"There is, however, something I can offer," Ezekiel says eventually. "The Saviors do not enter Kingdom proper. If you need sanctuary - if Daryl and his lady need a place to hide - my doors are open to you."

It's not the alliance Rick hoped for, but it's something.

During a break in the discussions, you find yourself studying the Kingdom's approach to food distribution. The great hall serves as both dining room and community gathering space, and you can see the strain in their food stores.

"They're struggling more than they're letting on," you murmur to Carol.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at the portions, the types of food they're serving. They're stretching everything as far as it will go." You point to various details that others might miss. "But they have a resource they're not using."

When the group reconvenes, you find yourself speaking up despite your usual reluctance to draw attention.

"Your Majesty, if I may... I noticed you're having some food security issues."

Ezekiel nods gravely. "Our crops have not been as successful as we hoped. The soil, perhaps, or the weather..."

"But you have millet growing everywhere," you say, gaining confidence as you speak. "It's incredibly nutritious and versatile. You could make porridge from it, which would be filling and provide good energy. There's also pottage - that's a thick stew made with whatever vegetables and grains you have available."

Everyone is listening now, and you can feel their attention like a physical weight.

"You could make frumenty, which is a sweet kinda porridge thing. And if you have any ale or wine, caudle is both nutritious and warming. There's also blancmange, which can be made with available ingredients, and various gruels that provide maximum nutrition with minimal resources..."

You realize you're rambling and stop abruptly, heat flooding your cheeks. "Sorry, I just... I know these things because I used to..." You take a breath.

"Before everything happened, I was part of a living history group back home. We studied medieval life, cooking, farming, all of it. I'm not from here originally, obviously," you add with a self-conscious gesture to yourself, "but we were very serious about historical accuracy."

The room is quiet for a moment, then Rick speaks up. "That's incredible. That knowledge could save lives."

"Indeed," Ezekiel agrees, his theatrical voice warm with genuine interest. "Perhaps you would be willing to share more of this wisdom with our cooks and farmers?"

You nod "of course, as long as its a shared resource" you state, still blushing but pleased to be able to contribute something meaningful.

"Always knew you were smart." Glen says quietly, his voice full of pride.

"I just ... figured it was nerdy" you whisper back.

The Kingdom's kitchens are spacious and well-equipped, with large hearths and sturdy wooden tables that have clearly seen years of use. You stand at the center of it all, wearing your 15th-century cotehardie like you were born to it, sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you examine the pile of millet Jerry has brought in.

"Right," you say, feeling more confident in this element than you have in weeks. "First thing we need to understand is that millet isn't just animal feed. It's been sustaining human populations for thousands of years."

Carol, Glen, and Jerry gather around the table, along with several of the Kingdom's cooks. Daryl leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching everything through his hair.

"The key is proper processing," you continue, running the small golden grains through your fingers. "We need to clean it first, remove any chaff or debris. Then we can hull it or use it whole, depending on what we're making."

"What's the difference?" Glen asks, genuinely curious.

"Hulled millet cooks faster and has a softer texture - better for porridge or adding to stews. Whole millet takes longer but has more nutritional value and, its kinda nuttier."

You pick up a wooden bowl, demonstrating the winnowing process. "In medieval times, they'd do this outside, let the wind carry away the chaff. Since we're indoors, and dont have ... hours ...we'll do it manually."

Jerry watches with fascination as you work. "You really know this stuff."

"I studied historical cooking methods," you say, then pause as that familiar shadow crosses your face.

But you shake it off and continue. "Carol, can you help me set up a couple of different cooking stations? We're going to make several dishes so everyone can see the versatility."

As you begin organizing the workspace, you reach up to push your hair back from your face, but it keeps falling forward. You pat down your pockets, looking for something to tie it back with.

"Damn," you mutter. "I don't have anything to—"

Without thinking, Daryl pushes off from the doorframe and moves behind you.

"Lemme" he murmurs as his hands come up to your hair, fingers threading through as he gathers it at the nape of your neck.

His calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they comb through your hair.

His hands trail up your neck as he smooths back the loose pieces, and he can feel the delicate curve where your neck meets your skull. The intimacy of the gesture hits him suddenly - how natural it feels, how right.

He pulls a piece of string from his vest pocket, the same kind he uses for his crossbow, and carefully ties your hair back. His fingers brush against your neck as he secures it, and he can feel your slight shiver at the contact.

Hell ... am I pushin' too hard? he wonders, suddenly worried.

But when he steps back, Carol catches sight of your face - and the small, almost girlish smile playing at your lips. It's the first genuinely happy expression she's seen from you since the Sanctuary.

Daryl, unable to see your face from behind you, starts to feel flustered. Shit, that was... that was real intimate. Did it in front of everyone too. What if she didn't want me touchin' her? What if—

"Thanks," you say softly, reaching up to touch the makeshift ponytail. "That's perfect."

"S'nothin" he mumbles, trying to brush it off as relief floods through him.

"Right," you say, turning back to the group with renewed energy. "Let's get cooking."

The next hour is filled with activity as you guide everyone through different preparations. You show Jerry how to make basic millet porridge, adding honey and dried fruits when available.

"This is frumenty," you explain to Glen as you help him prepare a sweet version with ale and spices. "Knights used to eat this before battle - gives sustained energy."

"Knights, huh?" Glen grins. "Think it'll work for fighting Saviors?"

The word hangs in the air between you both, and suddenly the warmth of the kitchen feels cold. Glen's smile fades as the reality hits - it won't just be walkers. It'll be people. Living, breathing people who will fight back, who will scream, who will bleed, your people too.

You both pause, hands stilling over the wooden bowls, the weight of what's coming settling heavy on your shoulders. The medieval fantasy of Kingdom and there reluctance to help suddenly feels naive, childish, in the face of what you'll actually have to do.

"Yeah," you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "I hope so."

Meanwhile, across the kitchen, King Ezekiel has been finding excuses to help Carol with her task of making pottage - a thick vegetable and grain stew.

"Allow me to assist you with that knife work, fair Carol," he says dramatically, moving closer than necessary.

Carol looks up, confused. "I think I can handle chopping vegetables, Ezekiel."

"Of course, but perhaps I might demonstrate the proper technique for—"

"I've been chopping vegetables since before the apocalypse," Carol says matter-of-factly, completely missing or choosing to miss the way Ezekiel's eyes soften when he looks at her.

Daryl catches the exchange and huffs out a breath which could be a laugh.

One of the Kingdom's residents - a man Daryl doesn't recognize - has approached you while you're explaining Caulde.

"You're really knowledgeable about all this," the man says, standing closer than Daryl likes. "Maybe you could teach me some more... You know one on one"

Daryl's whole body tenses.

You take a small step back from the man, trying to smile politely. "I, um, I'm just sharing what I know."

"Come on," the man persists. "Surely someone as smart as you doesn't spend all her time cooking. Your new here right? You seeing anyone?"

The question hits you like a physical blow. The last time anyone mentioned your relationship status, it was Negan, right before... You can feel your breathing quicken, panic starting to claw at your chest.

"I... I have a... I have a Daryl," you blurt out, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to make him back off.

The man looks confused. "A Daryl? What's a Daryl?"

Before you can explain, Daryl is there.

He doesn't announce himself - one moment the space beside you is empty, the next his solid presence fills it, close enough that you can smell the familiar scent of leather and woodsmoke that clings to him.

"'M'Daryl," he says, his voice that low, gravelly rumble that somehow manages to sound both casual and menacing. His blue eyes lock onto the man with laser focus, taking his measure in seconds. The stranger is soft, clean - probably never had to fight for his life, most likely.

The man's eyes dart between you and Daryl, clearly trying to work out the dynamic. "Oh, you're... friends?"

Something flickers across Daryl's face - too quick for most to catch, but you've learned to read the subtle shifts in his expression. The slight tightening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible clench of his jaw. That word - friends - lands wrong, stings in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Somethin' like that," Daryl mutters, but his stance shifts slightly, angling himself more between you and the stranger. It's subtle - everything about Daryl is subtle until it isn't - but unmistakably protective.

I was just asking your friend here if she might want to spend some time together. You know, share some of her knowledge." the man says, oblivious to the change in dynamic.

"She's busy," Daryl says, his tone flat and final. The man seems to finally grasp the dynamic. His gaze flicks between Daryl's set jaw and you whatever he sees there makes him take a step back.

"I... I didn't mean any offense," he stammers. "I was just being friendly."

Later, long after the kitchen is cleaned and food distributed Daryl's thumb traces slow circles on the back of your hand, a small comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

"Yeah?" Daryl's head tilts slightly, a gesture that somehow manages to be more threatening than any raised voice. "Well, be friendly somewhere else."

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

"Y'sure about goin' back?" he asks quietly, his voice thick with concern. "Could be safe here. Could heal up proper without worryin' 'bout him comin' back for ya."

"Are you sure?" you counter, studying his face.

He's quiet for a moment, jaw working as he considers. Then he shakes his head slowly. "Nah. Can't let that son of a bitch keep hurtin' people. Rick and the others... they're gonna need all the help they can get."

"Tomorrow we go back?" you ask.

"Tomorrow we go back," he confirms, voice heavy with resolve. "Back to Alexandria, then Hilltop. Back to the fight."

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blogficsesp · 1 day ago

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I'll be waiting (ch. 3)

When a wound puts you in the way of your almost ex-husband, the months without talking are over and perhaps it is the opportunity to resume your marriage or end it.

*English is not my first language

*Sorry for medical inaccuracies

Thank you so much for your love to this story. This chapter is probably very millenial, hehe, but I love Friends and The Sandlot.

Chapter 3

After the rounds, Robby had a little time to breathe and think. He remembered the last time that you talked to him. It was his birthday last year, you waited outside the ED with a present (a new book), still trying to reach him.

“Hi, Robby”. He turned to see you. You were smiling but didn’t reach your eyes.

“Hi, y/n… mhm, how are you?” You came close to him, but respecting the space between you two. You handed him the book. “Happy birthday”. He took it, read the title and his eyes came back to you. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do anything-” “Yes, Robby, I know, but I WANTED to do it”. She looked upset, of course. “Well, again, thank you”. For a moment, both looked each other in the eyes, knowing that there were a lot of things to say, but not saying anything. She was the one to break the silence. “Well, have a goodnight, Robby”. Both nodded their heads and part ways. This year he only received a message, but he didn’t reply.

He knew that it was time to let it go, ask for a divorce and end your misery. But he was selfish, or at least that’s what Dana had said to him; he wasn’t ready to let you go. And it seems that you weren’t ready either. Janey had told him that you were still in touch with her and Jake, and from time to time, Abbot mentioned that you asked about his wellbeing.

He walked to the nurse station to talk to Dana. “Do you know at what time she started her shift?” She looked up to answer him. “Who? Your wife?” He took a breath before answering her. “Yes, my wife”. She smiled slightly, knowing that she was bothering him and he couldn’t do anything. “I didn’t ask her, if you’re not busy, you could do it”. He put his head in his hands. “You’re killing me, Smalls”. Dana laughed at him. “Oh, now you’re citing movies… again”. That was a habit he took from you, you were a fan of watching movies and series in your spare time, and sometimes you used to say phrases of the characters as part of your daily way of speaking.

At south 4, you were talking talk with Perlah while another person took your blood.

“It hurts more right now”.

She took your vitals again. “It’s normal, the shock is wearing off. I’m gonna tell Robby if we could give you something while you wait for the exams”.

“Is it Robby’s case? I mean, you could talk to Collins or Langdon…”

She laughed slightly and shook her head. “I don’t think Robby wants someone else to look after you”.

As if you were summoning him, at that moment Robby entered. “Perlah, what happens?”

Both of you looked at him, and she answered. “She feels more pain now, I said her that I was going to talk to you, see if we could give her something”.

As he listened to her, he closed and opened his fists, nervous. “Let me take a look…”

Robby approached and began to do his physical examination. He knew Jack had done one, but he needed to make sure things hadn’t gotten worse. You were already in a robe. When he finished his examination, looked back at Perlah, “Please, call and tell them that we need those exams as soon as possible”. She nodded her head and did what he told her.

“Soon, sweetheart, we need to make sure that there are no fractures or torn ligaments before proceeding”.

You knew that he was saying something, but your mind went blank after sweetheart. One part of you said that it didn’t mean anything, just a comfort word for a patient in pain. But the other part, louder than the first, said that he cared for you, that he still had feelings for you, the proof wasn’t the word, but the way that he said it, like he meant it.

“Yes… OK…” You didn’t even know what you were answering, but he was seeing you waiting for a reaction, so you said the first thing that you thought.

Once again, he squeezed your hand and walked away.

And while you were waiting for the exams, you remembered the first time that he told you sweetheart. You were on his couch, watching a rerun of Friends, when everyone knew about Monica and Chandler. You were friends at that moment; he was recently single again.

“Oh, the feelings…” It was the third time that you watched Friends, but the way that Chandler let everybody know his love for Monica always gets you.

“I can’t believe that you still get emotional, you already watched it”.

“I KNOW, but look how cute they are!”

“You are cuter than them, sweetheart”.

Suddenly everything felt different in the air, you looked at him and your stomach made flips like crazy. His eyes shined with something that you didn’t want to name, but you knew that was love.

______________________

Taglist: @emma8895eb @li22ie2017

#michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #the pitt

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respectfulrebel · 18 hours ago

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Soooooo… this started so wholesome and cute— Noah and the boys, her proud moment with her designs making the wall, him showing up at the studio, the sandwiches 🥹🥹🥹 their conversation, the vibes??? And then… 🫠🫠🫠🫠 I wasn’t kidding when I said I was crying on the bus. I’m repeating myself cause I’ve said that so many times before, but the way you describe and write heavy moments like this is always so real, and always makes my heart ache 🥲

Theo squinted up at Noah, suddenly curious.

"Was that your girlfriend?"

Theo asking the real questions 🤭

"Would you want her to be your girlfriend?" Theo insisted.

What did I say? 🤭🤭🤭

"And she came all the way out here for you. Maybe she likes you!" his brother added.

I love those kids 🤭🤭🤭 they know what’s up

"Maybe she'll break up with him." Said Theo.

FINGERS CROSSED, THEO 😩

"That means I'm getting wiser. Now go, before she really comes out here with a slipper."

🤭🤭🤭🤭

Noah snorted. "Is he still alive? Or did he finally drink himself into a coma?"

😂😂😂 I mean that’s a fair question

"I'd get one of these tattooed. Easy."

Pleaseeeeee 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at him for a second, heart tapping a little faster than it should have. "No. You don't have to leave."

Noah blinked. "You sure? I can go."

Noooooo dummy, take the hint 😩

"Don't say stuff like that. I'd care."

😭😭😭😭 stoooooooooppp

Like he didn't mean anything. Like he truly believed he was disposable.

How is it possible for my heart to break for a fictional character??? 😭😭😭

Noah's hand, light but firm, curled around your forearm for just a second. He didn't say a word. Just guided you gently to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself between you and the quiet late evening traffic.

He passed not only the boyfriend test, but the husband test, the baby daddy test, the soulmate test, the grow old together test, the choose you in every lifetime test, the I can wait for years if I gotta test… 😭

You turned toward the small grocery store on the corner, one with a flickering neon in the window and hand-written signs taped to the door.

I literally screamed internally “THE SANDWICH!!!!!” 😭😭😭

He stopped mid-sentence as the bag shifted in your hand and the rest of the contents became visible: a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of pickles.

I’m gonna cry 😭😭😭😭

"Because you said it was your favorite,"

MARRY HEEEEERRRR 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

"Sometimes I want to try new things. Just because they look bad doesn't mean they are."

Pleaseeee 😭😭😭

It was such a small thing, but you liked having his hand in yours, even if just for a moment.

It’s not a small thing 🥹🥹🥹🥹

"It's just... this is probably the sweetest thing someone's done for me in a long time."

Stooooooooopp it right nooooow 😭😭😭😭

You watched him chew. In your head, you could almost picture a younger version of him, swinging his legs under a kitchen table, grinning and waiting for his little sandwich. It was a strangely vivid image, and it made your chest feel weird.

It felt like the city went quiet around you. It was just the two of you on an old slab of concrete, eating weird childhood food under a sky that was slowly turning dark enough for you to see a couple of stars.

He just casually reached for the jar of pickles again while you were mid-sentence, and you didn't stop him. You kept talking while you started spreading the peanut butter on a slice for him, and you let him cut the pickles after.

And they’re cooking together already??? 😭😭😭

"Thought for sure l'd take a hit bad enough to chip them a bit. Honestly, I even kind of hoped for it. These things are way too long."

No, they’re not, they’re adorable 🥺🥺 I love that you’ve included his bunny teeth 🤭

Because it was nothing.

Right?

Mhm… sure… 😌

But you had smiled more in one hour with Noah than you had in days at home. You had laughed. And you had felt a weird feeling in your stomach, a good weird feeling. Mostly when he smiled. When he thanked you. When he looked at you with his pretty brown eyes a moment longer.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 girl, you’re in loveeeeeeeeee 🥺

So, it had been a good day. Better than he could ever imagine. He also had the chance to hold your hand a couple of times, even if he wasn't really holding it.

Sweet boy 🥺🥺🥺 I also love that we get to see his perspective as well 🥺

And when Noah closed his eyes, laying on his mattress, the dark didn't stay empty.

Because there's a field.

There's always a field.

I swear from now on I’m gonna be getting triggered every time I hear the word field 😩 I already loved this story so much, but THIS??? WHAT IS HAPPENING???? Literally was at the edge of my seat reading this last bit, heart pounding as I was trying not to audibly sob 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I could not form a coherent theory about it but I’m sooo invested in this story, it’s unreal 😭

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Pairing: underground fighter! noah x reader

Series summary: You’re dragged to watch an illegal fight, and after the match, you meet Noah, a fighter who seems to be battling more than just his opponents.

Tw: relationship doubt, nightmares

Series mastelist

Noah turned the corner with a grocery bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hooked through the strap. The bag wasn’t full, just a few essentials: a loaf of bread, a carton of oat milk, a couple of apples and a couple of those meals already cooked and ready to be eaten.

As he passed the intersection near the old mural wall, a half-deflated basketball bounced out into the street in front of him.

“Hey, Noah!” a voice called.

He looked up to see Miles come skidding after the ball, sneakers slapping pavement. Right behind him was Theo, younger by a couple of years, skinnier, always wearing a t-shirt too big for him.

Noah bent down, caught the basketball before it rolled too far, and turned it in his hands once before tossing it gently back.

“Hey, kids,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Thanks!” Miles caught it clumsily, grinning.

Theo squinted up at Noah, suddenly curious. “Was that your girlfriend?”

Noah blinked. “What?”

“That girl,” Miles said, coming closer, “The one who came by last week, asking for you. Looking like she was on a secret mission.”

Noah chuckled softly. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We… just kinda know each other.” He shrugged.

Miles exchanged a quick glance with Theo, then grinned. “She was pretty, though. You know.”

Noah laughed again, shaking his head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“Would you want her to be your girlfriend?” Theo insisted.

“Why don't you two go back to playing ball?” He said in a way that let them know he wasn't actually mad.

Theo stuck out his tongue but didn’t move. “Because you’re our friend, Noah. We like talking to our friends.”

Noah’s smile softened as he looked at them, and he took a small step closer to Theo, he reached out and ruffled the younger boy’s hair, messing it up.

“You guys are my friends too,” he said, “But she’s still not my girlfriend.”

Theo grinned, shaking his head as he fixed his hair, like a little dog.

“Does she live around here?” The kid asked.

Noah shook his head. “Nope. She lives in the city.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Miles said.

“And she came all the way out here for you. Maybe she likes you!” his brother added.

Noah rolled his eyes. “She lives in the city. With her boyfriend.”

Miles let out a groan of disappointment. “Aw, no!”

“Maybe she’ll break up with him.” Said Theo.

“I really don’t think that’s gonna happen. I'm sorry, kids.”

Just as the boys were turning to run back toward their game, a sharp voice rang out across the street.

“Miles! Theo!”

They all turned their heads in unison. Standing in the doorway of a small brick rowhouse just a few doors down was their mother, one hand braced on the frame, the other resting on her hip. Her apron was dusted with flour, and she had that specific tone that meant playtime was over.

“That’s enough, boys! Homework time. I don’t want to come out there again!”

Theo let out a groan. Miles dragged his feet a little, bouncing the basketball one more time, reluctantly.

“She always catches us at the best part,” Miles muttered under his breath.

Noah grinned. “You heard her. Better listen to your mom.”

Miles sighed, then called over his shoulder, “Okay, we’re coming!”

Their mother spotted Noah then and lifted a hand in greeting, as she gave him a small smile. He lifted his hand back in return, a little wave of acknowledgment.

As the boys started trudging back toward the house, Theo paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, can we come over and punch the big bag again?”

“Maybe,” he said, shifting the grocery bag on his shoulder. “But only if you actually do your homework today. Like, really do it.”

Theo squinted. “Even the math?”

“Especially the math.”

Miles groaned again. “Ugh, you sound just like our mom.”

Noah laughed. “That means I’m getting wiser. Now go, before she really comes out here with a slipper.”

The boys took off in a run, jostling each other as they scrambled up the front steps of their house. Their mom gave them both a light smack on the shoulder as they passed, more affectionate than stern.

Noah lingered for a second, watching them go in, the door swinging shut behind them. The street quieted again, he just smiled to himself, and kept walking.

You were wiping down the last of the counters and fixing some artwork that was not in the right place, closing time approaching.

Nick stepped out from the back room, where he kept some tools, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash.

“Hey,” he said, “did your friend like the butterfly?”

You looked up from where you were stacking ink bottles. “Oh yeah. She loved it. I think she posted, like, five hundred pictures on her stories.”

Nick laughed, grabbing his hoodie from the hook near the door. “I know. She tagged the shop in every single one of them.”

"Well, that girl has a lot of followers. Maybe she gave you free advertising."

"In that case, I'm glad she posted so much about it." He said with a smile, then looked at the clock on the wall. “Listen. Think it’s cool if I head out a bit early? We’re done for the day, and you’ve pretty much got the place spotless already.”

You gave him a nod. “Yeah, of course, no worries. I’ll finish up and close.”

“Seriously, thanks. I owe you one.”

You waved him off. “Just go before you fall asleep while driving.”

Nick laughed again, zipping up his hoodie. “You're the best! Have a nice evening!”

The door jingled as he stepped out, letting in a quick gust of cooler air, and then it clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone.

You went back to wiping down the last chair, checking the needle disposal bin, straightening a few art prints on the wall that had been slightly knocked down by the day’s traffic.

Your eyes landed on a specific corner of the wall.

A few days ago, after Nick had caught a glimpse of one of your sketches when your notebook hit the floor, he had asked you to see more.

You didn’t expect what came next. He told you they were beautiful, different in a way that would stand out, and that someone, probably more than someone, would want them on their skin. Then he offered to clear a spot on the wall and hang a few.

You hadn’t known what to say at first. You weren’t even sure your work belonged up there. But you’d said yes.

Now that section of the wall held your designs: a crescent moon tangled in lavender, a dagger wrapped in ivy and thread, a black cat mid-stretch, its tail curling like a question mark, a skeletal hand holding a blooming peony, a moth with eyes on its wings, a pair of koi fish circling in opposite directions.

You still thought they weren't that special. But they were yours. And now they lived here, in this space where people came to choose what they wanted to carry forever.

Seeing them on the wall still felt a little unreal. But it also felt good.

Outside, the sky was burning into that deep orange-violet that always made the city look absolutely beautiful. The front windows glowed softly with it, throwing reflections of the hanging flash art onto the tiled floor.

You were reaching for your jacket, keys already in hand, when you heard the soft jingle of the front door swinging open. You didn’t even look up at first.

“Sorry, we’re closed. If you want to book a consultation you can—”

You turned as you spoke, and stopped mid-sentence.

It was Noah.

The words evaporated off your tongue, replaced by an involuntary smile. He stood just inside the doorway, the hood of his sweatshirt still up. He pulled it back as the door closed behind him, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down.

“Damn,” he said, brow arched. “I gotta have an appointment just to have a conversation with you now?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Noah, what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just drop by because I wanted to say hi to you?” he asked. “The place you work at sounded pretty cool when you told me about it. I wanted to check it out.”

You smiled, folding your arms as you leaned back against the counter. He wanted to say hi to you. “So, verdict?”

He glanced around. “Yeah, it’s very cool. Way better than some of the places where I got my tattos. I got one of them in the back of an Indian restaurant, once. The artist was great, but I smelled like curry for a week.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

He sat down on the stool across from you, resting his elbows on the counter. That’s when you noticed his knuckles, scraped and a little swollen.

You nodded toward his hands. “Did you at least win this time?”

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Covered my groceries for the week. A lot of pre-cooked chicken and sad pasta salad.”

“Definitely better than the stuff Kole tries to cook sometimes.”

Noah snorted. “Is he still alive? Or did he finally drink himself into a coma?”

You shot him a look, even though you were already trying not to laugh. “Noah.”

“What?” he said, raising his hands like he was innocent. “Last time I saw him, he looked two beers from it.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s fine. Nothing an aspirin and a day at home couldn't fix.”

“Impressive,” Noah said, leaning forward a bit.

Noah glanced past you, his eyes landing on the display wall behind the counter. His expression shifted, brows lifting slightly, mouth tilting with something like surprise.

“Those are cool,” he said, nodding toward the framed flash art. “Really cool.”

“Thanks,” you replied, almost on instinct.

But then he looked at you more closely, like something had clicked. “Wait...did you make those?”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“No way!” He leaned back slightly, clearly impressed. “You didn't tell me you could draw.”

You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “It never came up, I guess.”

Noah stood, walking over to the wall to get a better look. He tilted his head, taking his time with each piece.

“These are sick.”

You smiled, warmth creeping up your neck. “I didn’t think they were anything special. Nick made me put some up.”

“Well, Nick was right,” he said, still facing the wall. “I’d get one of these tattooed. Easy.”

You laughed softly. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he said, turning back toward you. “I’m really not. You should draw more,” he added. “Seriously. I mean it.”

You wondered if he would’ve said the same thing if he’d seen the pages of your sketchbook, pages filled with his face, his bruised hands, all the details you couldn’t seem to stop drawing.

You thought you'd rather die than let him see them.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as watched him, standing in the fading orange light, surrounded by your own art. It felt so right. And you couldn’t help but think he was so beautiful.

You cleared your throat. “I was just about to close up, I—”

Noah turned to you quickly. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll get out of your way. You probably wanna go home and crash or whatever, long day and all.”

You looked at him for a second, heart tapping a little faster than it should have. “No. You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, trying to understand.

“It’s still kinda early,” you added. “And Kole’s not gonna be home for a while anyway.”

Noah blinked. “You sure? I can go.”

Dumbass. I don't want you to.

“Yeah. Come with me. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.”

That made him pause, uncertain. “Try?”

You smiled, locking the register and grabbing your bag. “You’ll see.”

He followed, curious now, his expression both amused and confused as you shut off the lights, twisted the key in the lock, and stepped out into the dusky orange haze that had settled over the city.

The parking lot was mostly empty. Sunset reflecting over the glass windows of the few cars there.

“This is how horror movies start,” Noah said, pretending to be suspicious, as he adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie. “Girl says ‘Come with me,’ guy follows without asking questions. Next thing you know...boom. Missing persons poster. Not that anyone would actually care if this really happened.”

You stopped walking for half a second, just enough to glance at him. The way he said it, lightly, like a joke, didn't change its meaning.

“Don’t say that.”

He looked at you, almost like you caught off guard. “What?”

“You know what,” you said, serious this time. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’d care.”

Noah blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to respond at all, let alone seriously.

“Not if you’re the one who murdered me in a tattoo shop parking lot,” he said, trying to keep the tone playful.

Eventually, you let out a little laugh, because it was easier. But the way he said it still hurt you.

Like he didn’t mean anything. Like he truly believed he was disposable.

He kept following you.

"You gonna tell me where we're going?" he asked.

You gave him a sideways glance, your expression just shy of smug. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

You crossed the street and reached the curb on the other side of the road, and then you felt it.

Noah’s hand, light but firm, curled around your forearm for just a second. He didn’t say a word. Just guided you gently to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself between you and the quiet late evening traffic.

It happened so quickly, so naturally, you almost didn’t have time to register it. You glanced at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes, and he was already looking ahead.

But your heart was doing something it definitely wasn’t doing before.

And your mind was thinking that that little gesture was something that Kole never did.

You reached the edge of the sidewalk and came to a slow stop. You stood still for a second, and Noah slowed beside you, glancing around like he was trying to guess the next move.

You turned toward the small grocery store on the corner, one with a flickering neon in the window and hand-written signs taped to the door.

Noah looked at it, then looked back at you. “…This our destination?”

You smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Not exactly. Can you wait here for a few minutes?”

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll be quick.”

He leaned back against the wall without question, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, and nodded once. “I’ll be right here.”

You pushed through. Inside, the air was cooler and it smelled like a mix of all the food they sold there.

You found the pickles first, then the jar of peanut butter. The bread took longer, Noah hadn’t said what kind, and you stood staring at a few options until you just picked the one that looked closest to what a grandmother might buy. Fresh and soft, but with a cruncher crust.

At the last second, you grabbed a small, cheap plastic knife from near the deli counter, because you needed something to cut the bread and pickles.

Unexpectedly, the cashier didn’t even look at you funny.

When you stepped outside again, Noah was exactly where you left him, leaned back against the brick, one foot braced against the wall, head tilted toward the darkening sky like he’d been watching the clouds shift.

He straightened when he saw you, eyes immediately dropping to the grocery bag in your hand. Then they landed on the knife, partially visible.

“Ah! I knew you were gonna kill—”

He stopped mid-sentence as the bag shifted in your hand and the rest of the contents became visible: a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of pickles.

His voice caught. The grin faded, just a fraction, and he blinked like something in him had gone soft all at once.

“…me.” he finished, barely above a whisper.

You held his gaze and smiled. “What?”

Noah’s eyes flicked from your face back to the bag, his posture subtly shifting like he didn’t quite know what to do with the warmth rising in his chest.

"Why’d you buy that?”

“Because you said it was your favorite,” you said simply. “You told me your grandma used to make it. And that you missed it.”

His lips parted slightly. You could tell he didn’t know what to do with that. Because he wasn't used to things like that.

You wondered how he could be so sure that he wasn't a good person, that he didn't deserve to stop fighting, to have a real job, a real house. How he could hate himself so much when his expression became so soft just by looking at the ingredients of a sandwich.

“I remember you said it sounded gross,” he said.

“It did,” you agreed, “but I still want to try it.”

“…Why?”

“Because…” You hesitated. Then shrugged. "Sometimes I want to try new things. Just because they look bad doesn’t mean they are."

Noah stared at you for a long second. There was something incredibly soft in his face now.

For a moment you just wanted to hug him. Tell him he wasn't alone, and if he had been, he wasn't anymore. That you cared. That you bought all that stupid things for him because you cared and hoped to make him happy with them.

He looked down, ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered, not at you, more at himself.

You stayed in silence for a moment. Then bumped his arm with yours.

“C’mon,” you said, lifting the bag slightly. “Let’s find a place to test this culinary masterpiece.”

That earned you a breath of laughter.

“Lead the way.” he said.

You and Noah made your way back to the parking lot as the sky started growing darker.

There was a low concrete ledge near the edge of the lot, probably part of an old loading dock, just high enough to be a little hard to climb onto but perfect to sit, chat and eat for a while. Noah got there first and pulled himself up with a soft grunt, the soles of his shoes scraping against the cement. Once settled, he turned and offered you his hand without a word.

You looked at it for a second, then at him and you took it. It was warm, a little rough from old bruises and healing cuts, but his grip was careful as he helped pull you up beside him.

It was such a small thing, but you liked having his hand in yours, even if just for a moment.

You sat down next to him, and he leaned back on his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him. You pulled the brown paper bag into your lap and started unpacking everything.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of bread you meant,” you said.

“It's perfect.” he answered immediately.

You started slicing into it. “And important question: pickles. Slices or strips?”

Noah shrugged. “It’s not that deep.”

“No, come on. I want to make it the right way.”

He exhaled, giving in. “Slices.”

“Good,” you said, fishing a few out onto a napkin. “Because I don’t think I even know how to cut them into strips.”

He let out little laugh.

You kept working on the sandwiches, careful with the knife, placing each ingredient with quiet precision. You felt his gaze on you before you saw it. You glanced over, catching the way he was watching you.

“What?” you asked.

Noah blinked. “Nothing.”

You gave him a look. “Noah.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

He hesitated, starting playing with the hem of his hoodie. Then he said, a little quieter, “It’s just… this is probably the sweetest thing someone’s done for me in a long time.”

Your fingers paused for a moment on the bread. That ache again, low in your ribs.

You didn’t know what to say, exactly. So you handed him a sandwich.

“Well,” you said, keeping your voice soft, “your grandma gets the credit. I’m just copying.”

He took the sandwich from your hands and looked at it for a second before glancing back at you. Then he took a bite.

While you waited for his verdict, you took a bite of yours.

“So?” You asked.

He gave a slow nod. “It’s perfect.”

“You already said that about the bread,” you pointed out.

“That’s because it is,” he replied. “It’s exactly how she used to make it.”

You took another bite and before you could say anything else, he was smirking at you.

“That’s your second bite,” he said, nodding at your sandwich.

You glanced down. “So?”

“So, that means you like it.”

“Actually, it’s kinda disgusting,” then added, “but I’m starving.”

He laughed again. And every time you managed to pull a laugh from him like that, it felt like a win.

You took another bite. And maybe… it really didn’t taste so bad after all.

You stayed there a while longer. Long enough for Noah to eat not one, but two more sandwiches.

He just casually reached for the jar of pickles again while you were mid-sentence, and you didn’t stop him. You kept talking while you started spreading the peanut butter on a slice for him, and you let him cut the pickles after.

You found yourself talking more than you normally would, and he listened more than most people ever had. There was always something about the way he looked at you when you spoke, like nothing you said was boring, like he was hearing all of it and would remember every word.

At one point, you nodded toward the other side of the street.

“That record shop over there? The one with the neon sign half-burned out?”

Noah turned to follow your gaze.

“They’ve got a bunch of old vinyls and music gear. I’ve been a couple of times with my best friend. She left me in the metal section for like an hour and went off to search through Harry Styles stuff.”

Noah gave a short laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I swear, she could spend hours just flipping through vinyls with his face on them. Meanwhile, I made friends with this Jolly guy behind the counter. He's funny and I ended up talking to him for like two hours while she hunted down some limited edition single or something. We ended up talking about tattoos, and I told him I work at the tattoo shop across the street. From that day on, he got all his tattoos done by Nick. You would like him, I think."

He nodded and kept chewing on his sandwich, reminding you of a squirrel, in some way.

You pointed again, down the road this time. “Folio’s got a mechanic shop down there. Took my car in once when it stopped working. Turned out a cat peed on the engine or something. He also got some tattoos by Nick.”

Time passed, and you stayed there until the sky turned fully dark and the moon was hanging high above. You didn’t really want to leave. It felt good, just being there with him. Even though you knew Kole was probably already home by now.

You found yourself watching the way his Adam’s apple moved when he spoke, not too prominent, but there, shifting slightly with every word and making the tattoos on his neck seem to come alive.

“It’s kind of weird I’ve never lost a tooth,” he said at some point.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, with all the punches I’ve taken over the years, you’d think at least one would’ve gone flying. A molar. Something. But nope. Still all intact.”

“Ouch.” you muttered under your breath, wincing at the mental image.

He smirked. “I always figured it was just a matter of time. Or that maybe I’d at least fix these bunny teeth or something.”

“Bunny teeth?” you echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” he said, “These two front ones.” He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb lightly across them. “Thought for sure I’d take a hit bad enough to chip them a bit. Honestly, I even kind of hoped for it. These things are way too long.”

You smiled shaking your head, and for a second, you caught yourself watching the movement of his mouth more than you should’ve, how his teeth showed just slightly when he laughed.

They were kinda cute, actually. You didn’t say it.

Eventually, you both had to go.

He hopped down first and, like before, offered you his hand to help you down. You took it.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He pointed toward a car parked not far from yours. “That’s mine for the night. Well, technically not mine. Borrowed it from the kids’ mom.”

You said goodbye.

"Thank you for... you know. Everything." He said.

"Anytime."

And you meant it.

You would have done it again as many times as he wanted.

He said "see you soon" and you hoped you were actually going to see him soon.

It was only once you got into your car, that you noticed your phone screen lighting up. One missed call. Three messages from Kole.

The house was quiet when you walked in. You dropped your keys onto the table by the door and hung your bag.

Kole was in the living room, standing halfway between the couch and the hallway, arms crossed. You didn’t even have time to take off your jacket before his voice cut through the silence.

“Where were you?” he asked. “It’s late. You never get off work this late. I thought something happened.”

You paused, blinked, let the door click shut behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see your texts.”

He didn’t respond, just stared, waiting for more.

You exhaled slowly. “Noah stopped by. You know, Noah? From the fight club?” You tried to keep your voice even and casual, like it really was nothing.

Because it was nothing.

Right?

“He just came by to say hi. We started talking, and I lost track of time. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed. “Noah?” A beat. “Sebastian?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then just: “Hm.”

You were about to say something else when he finally looked up again.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” you said. “No. Of course not.”

He stared at you, unmoving. “You sure?”

��Kole,” you said, taking a step forward, trying to catch his gaze, “please. I’m not cheating on you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just ran a hand over his face. Finally, he muttered, “Okay.”

That was it. Just okay.

You stood there in the middle of the room, your jacket still on, your heart still racing, as he walked to the bedroom.

And it was true. You weren’t cheating on him. You hadn’t crossed any lines. You and Noah hadn’t even touched if not for your hands when he helped you up and down the concrete ledge.

You weren’t cheating. But still...

Is it cheating if your heart goes to someone else?

You stood in the dim light, alone now, and for the first time in a while, you weren’t entirely sure what the truth was anymore. Or what you were supposed to do now.

Noah hadn’t expected much when he drove over. Hell, he’d almost turned back twice.

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. He just really wanted to see you again.

He had told himself you’d tell him to leave, for sure. That it was late, that you had to close up and head home. That maybe he was being inappropriate, overstepping.

So he was almost surprised when you didn’t.

And he was definitely surprised when you ended up buying the ingredients for his stupid sandwich.

You had listened when he told you. And you had cared enough to give it to him.

It was such a small thing, eating weird sandwiches in a quiet parking lot in front of a tattoo shop and chatting, but to him, it had felt like the closest thing to peace he’d had in a long time.

You’d made him laugh. You were probably the only person on earth able to make him do that, right now.

So, it had been a good day. Better than he could ever imagine. He also had the chance to hold your hand a couple of times, even if he wasn't really holding it.

But that didn’t mean anything, not really. Not once the sun went down.

Because nights were different.

And when Noah closed his eyes, laying on his mattress, the dark didn’t stay empty.

Because there’s a field.

There's always a field.

Endless. Silent. He’s driven for hours to get there, through roads that twisted and disappeared behind him. He’s alone, and he made sure of it. No one knows he’s there. That’s the point.

The moon is high, but everything is dim, grainy like an old film.

He can't breathe.

He feels like he's drowning.

He is kneeling on the dry grass.

There’s a weight in his hand, metal, cold, pressing into his skin. His arms are shaking. Tears streak across his face.

It's all his fault. He will never forgive himself.

No one’s around. No one can hear.

A sob comes out, then another, until he’s bent forward and his shoulders are violently shaking.

He folds in on himself, curls down to the ground like his body is trying to disappear into the earth. The grass scratches at his skin, but he doesn’t feel it.

He cries. Loud.

He cries until his voice is hoarse, until his chest feels like it’s being crushed by some invisible hand.

He cries until the sky begins to change, shifting from black to bruised purple to soft, aching blue.

He can't stop.

The nausea comes next. His stomach turns. His head throbs. His eyes burn.

The sun is high now. It’s morning.

He forces himself to get up, to stand on legs that barely hold him.

He turns once, just once, to look back at the field. At what he’s leaving behind.

A part of himself, probably.

He stumbles to the car. The door creaks. The seat is cold.

He grips the steering wheel.

His hands are shaking.

His hands are covered in blood.

And he can’t stop crying.

Noah woke up drenched in sweat. He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking, and not just because the nights there were always cold.

He sat up on the mattress, his breathing shallow. Alpine, who’d been curled up on his chest, stirred with a soft meow, slipping off his legs and stumbling groggily to his side. The cat settled there again, pressing close like she knew.

Noah stayed still for a moment, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands. His fingers curled against his temples. He focused on breathing in, out, in, out.

It was just a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t.

It never was.

It was a memory. It really happened. He let it happen.

Outside, it was still dark, but he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again that night.

There was no point in trying.

Quietly, he stood. Wrapped his hands, tight.

He crossed the room and reached the punching bag.

Then he started hitting.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @bloody-spades @rumoured-whispers @astronoids

Fresh bruises tags: @1toreyouapart @respectfulrebel @dragoncopper @overmydeadbodysblog @fear-its-beauty @xslavicprincess @concreteangel92 @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @pipidoll @bluehairpunklol @tktstomydwnfall @jesuisunchaton @brutallysoftmuse @acatatonicpeace @spookieolson

#you’re brilliant 🤍#noah sebastian fanfiction

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chocoryo · 20 hours ago

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𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛 ◦ LAZY MORNINGS.ᐟ ⋄ ﹙ 枯 ﹚

꒰ ㌛ ꒱ how do they act in lazy mornings with you?

꒰ ぉ ꒱ bf!wish && fem!reader content fluff. yushi's part can be slightly suggestive at the end. so much love i wanna die. ⋄ 3.5k words

꒰ 'ㅅ' ꒱ i thought of adding sakuryo in fluff headcanons, but something doesn't seem right for me... (we're just 1 year apart, but i feel like a sinner) so i'll just wait for them to turn 18 and i add them to fluff guys. i don't really like or write platonic fics and a romantic relationship seems... weird idk 😭😭

SION

mornings with sion are never rushed. they bloom slowly, like petals unfolding in warm sunlight—quiet, lazy, and filled with love. he refuses to open his eyes the moment the alarm chimes. refuses to let go of your warmth. instead, he pulls you closer, buries his face in the crook of your neck, and breathes you in like you’re his first breath of the day.

before anything else—before brushing teeth or checking phones or even stretching—he needs you. needs to kiss you, whisper to you, talk about everything and nothing. the day doesn’t start until he’s had a moment wrapped in you.

the golden morning light begins to pour gently through the curtains, soft and warm against the sheets. you stir sleepily, shifting under the covers, your face instinctively nuzzling into the familiar chest rising and falling beside you.

your eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the light. before you can even greet the day properly, you feel it—a tender kiss, feather-light, pressed against the crown of your head.

“good morning, love,” sion murmurs, his voice still gravelly from sleep. it rumbles in his chest beneath your cheek, and it makes something inside you melt.

“good morning, babe,” you reply, lifting your head just enough to rest your chin on his chest, your gaze drifting to him.

his hair is a soft mess, sleep-tousled and impossibly endearing. his eyes remain closed, but there’s a lazy little smile curling at the corners of his lips—the kind of smile that says he’s perfectly content, just like this.

you lean up and press a small kiss to his chin, earning a subtle but visible twitch of his smile growing wider.

“did you sleep well?” you ask gently, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, your hand seeking out the warm skin of his side.

he shivers slightly under your touch, leaning into it, like your fingers alone are enough to anchor him to the world. “i always sleep well when i’m with you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you giggle and pinch his side lightly. “don’t be cheesy.”

“i’m not,” he insists with a sleepy grin. “i’m just being honest. how could i possibly sleep badly when i’ve got the softest, warmest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world holding me like i’m her favorite thing?”

your laugh bubbles up, light and bright, but his words—even if exaggerated��sink deep into your heart. because that’s what sion does. he says things that make your chest ache in the softest ways.

with a quiet groan of effort, he shifts, gently rolling you onto your back so he can rest above you, arms caging you in without pressure. he leans down and starts kissing you—over and over—like he’s got nowhere else to be and all the time in the world to show you how much he loves you.

your cheeks. your lips. your nose. your forehead. your neck. every inch of you receives the kind of affection that makes you feel cherished down to your bones.

you laugh between kisses, and that sound alone makes sion smile against your skin. he could live off the sound of your laughter. if it were a song, he’d play it on repeat for the rest of his life.

“what’s my pretty girl doing today?” he asks, voice muffled as he tucks his face into your neck again, your fingers tracing lazy circles across his back.

“after having breakfast with my amazing boyfriend?” you tease, and he hums in response, the vibration tickling your skin. “probably finishing that boring college project… then i’m meeting my mom.”

he lifts his head slightly, blinking at you with playful offense. “and then you’ll come home to your amazing boyfriend’s arms, right?”

you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, grinning. “actually, then i’ll meet my friends. after that, i’ll come back home to my amazing boyfriend’s arms.”

he flops back down onto your chest, groaning dramatically. “ugh. then i’ll be here. abandoned. lonely. rotting away in despair. thinking of you and all the time we could’ve spent tangled in each other.”

you burst into laughter, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “you could hang out with the boys, you know.”

he makes a discontented noise. “they’re my last resort.”

“you love them.”

“maybe,” he mumbles, nuzzling back into you like he’d rather be anywhere but away from you.

the conversation fades into silence again, the comfortable kind. the kind that wraps around you both like a second blanket. your bodies stay tangled under the covers, lips meeting over and over, skin brushing against skin in the gentlest of ways.

his lips keep trailing kisses along your face and neck like he can’t help himself, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops. and honestly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever.

“we really need to get up…” you murmur against his lips between kisses, breath hitching slightly.

but sion only shakes his head, already capturing your mouth in another kiss.

“five more minutes,” he whispers, voice soft, pleading, and full of sleepy love.

and just like that, you’re pulled right back into his arms. because with sion, five more minutes always turns into ten. then twenty. then a morning that stretches out beautifully—slow, warm, and full of love.

RIKU

mornings with riku are always a slow burn. the sun might rise, alarms might blare, but riku? he stays wrapped in blankets, deep in dreams, snoozing one alarm after the next. you’ve lost count how many times he’s tapped his phone without opening his eyes. and even though he gets a little grumpy when you try to wake him, all of that melts away the moment he realizes it’s you.

your voice. your touch. your kisses. that’s all it takes for his sleepy heart to soften, for the whines to begin, and for the clinging to start. because for riku, no morning truly begins without your arms wrapped around him and your lips pressed against his skin.

he’s lucky there’s nothing urgent today—no classes, no calls, no plans—just a soft saturday morning and the two of you tangled in warmth.

you’d been trying to wake your sleepyhead up for nearly ten minutes. five alarms, maybe more, all silenced with a lazy swipe of his hand. and each time, he rolled away, burying himself deeper under the covers like a stubborn cat. at one point, he even turned his back to you entirely, pretending to snore louder.

but you’re persistent. you always are when it comes to riku.

“riku…” you call out gently, fingers trailing up and down his back. you lean in and press a kiss to the curve of his neck, then another to his cheek, letting your lips linger just a little longer than necessary.

you nudge his hair aside with your nose, your breath warm against his skin, voice barely above a whisper as you begin listing all the lovely things you could do together on a slow, beautiful morning like this—even if it is already past eleven.

he stirs a little, shifting with a soft sigh as he finally flops onto his back, one arm flopping across his eyes. he blinks one eye open, clearly prepared to grumble, but as soon as he sees you leaning over him, all that resistance dissolves into a sleepy smile.

“baby~” he murmurs, voice drowsy and sweet, like honey on toast.

“finally!” you laugh softly, flopping beside him. “i thought you’d slipped into a coma.”

without another word, riku reaches for you, arms pulling you against his chest like you’re a lifeline. he buries his face in your shirt, warm breath fanning across your skin, and lets out a sigh that feels like the entire world just fell away.

he doesn’t speak—just holds you. one hand traces slow, lazy shapes across your back, the other anchoring you close. it feels like he’s trying to soak in every inch of you through sheer contact, like if he could melt into you, he would.

“baby,” you murmur with a soft giggle, kissing the top of his head, “we really need to get up.”

“but it’s saturday,” he whines, voice muffled into your chest.

“and it’s eleven already,” you tease, threading your fingers through his soft, sleep-tousled hair. your nails gently scratch his scalp, and the way he shudders lets you know he loves it—which, of course, makes him complain more.

“don’t do that… i’ll fall back asleep.” he whines again, tighter this time, like a child resisting the end of a dream. “we can spend time together asleep too…”

“maeda riku.” you chuckle, gently cradling his face in your hands. he’s pouty, cheeks warm, lips slightly parted, and those big brown eyes blink up at you with all the affection in the world.

“we’re getting up, having breakfast, and spending time awake, together. got it?” you press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

he lets out the most dramatic sigh, like you’ve just asked him to move mountains. “but i was so comfy…”

“if you get up right now,” you say, leaning close, “i’ll spend the whole day drowning you in kisses.”

his eyes snap open, fully alert now, curiosity lighting up his face. “the whole day?”

you nod, lips twitching into a grin.

“anywhere?” he asks, already grinning back, that playful sparkle returning to his eyes.

you nod again, slower this time, just to tease him.

that’s all it takes. he throws the covers off with a dramatic flair, rolls to the edge of the bed and stumbles to his feet, hair sticking out in every direction, still half-asleep but clearly determined.

“c’mon baby!” he beams, stretching his arms wide. “let’s do something fun!”

you giggle into your hand, heart swelling with love for this boy who turns from grumpy to giddy with just a promise of kisses. his smile is still drowsy around the edges, but it’s yours. completely and fully yours.

and just like that, the day begins—with messy hair, sleepy laughs, and a whole lot of love.

YUSHI

mornings with yushi are always soaked in quiet adoration. he usually wakes first—not because he has to, but because he loves to. it’s his favorite part of the day, those few precious minutes where the world is still, and you’re right there, peaceful and warm, breathing softly beside him.

he treasures this. the privilege of watching you so gently wrapped in sleep. he memorizes you like this, every morning, like he’s seeing you for the first time. he looks for the tiniest details, the ones he could have missed, the ones only he gets to see—the way your lips part just slightly, the subtle twitch of your fingers, the way your eyebrows furrow when your dreams start to turn. every sleepy habit of yours, he’s fallen for, completely. even the ones you might find silly or embarrassing—to him, they’re the loveliest things.

what could ever compare to the mornings when you wake by his side? when he gets to be the very first person to see you, to hear your soft, raspy “good morning” that almost sounds like a secret, or when you lazily nuzzle into his chest, mumbling for five more minutes before drifting right back into that peaceful slumber. those moments, yushi keeps them tucked in his heart like treasures.

his eyes flutter open, blinking slowly against the morning light that filters through the thin curtains, soft and pale.

he turns his head to the right, squinting at the white glowing numbers on the clock—still too early, thank god. so he shifts, rolling to his left instead, and there you are. his girl, his comfort, his favorite sight to wake up to.

a small, quiet smile curls his lips as he tucks one arm beneath his head, sinking into the pillow as his gaze drifts over you.

his eyes trace the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the delicate curve of your shoulder peeking out from the blanket, the tiny, involuntary smile tugging at your lips. your eyelashes flutter like you’re dreaming something exciting, and in your sleep, you instinctively scoot closer, seeking his warmth, tucking yourself right into his space like you belong there. like you always have.

and to yushi, you do.

he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world—like nothing else matters. his love for you sits in his chest, steady and deep and undoubted.

his hand moves slowly, carefully, as he brushes away the strands of hair that have fallen across your face, tucking them behind your ear with a tenderness that could only come from loving someone this much.

you stir, slowly waking, your lashes fluttering open to find him already watching you with that same soft, sleepy smile.

“good morning…” your voice is just a whisper, thick with sleep as you drape your arm lazily around his waist.

his arms pull you close in response, wrapping you up like he could keep you there forever. you rest your head against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“good morning, heart.”

you sigh, melting into him. “what do we have today?”

“besides my shift in a few hours?” he murmurs, nudging your head with his chin. “nothing. you, miss sleepy, have the day off, remember?”

you lift your head just a little, eyes still half-closed but sparkling with quiet excitement. your lips pull into a slow, lazy smile that makes yushi’s heart soften even more.

“then you should keep your pretty girlfriend some company, huh? would you dare leave me alone on a morning like this?” you tighten your grip around him dramatically. “it’s freezing without you… or worse… i’ll miss you so much i might just die.”

he laughs, his chest vibrating under your cheek, and it’s the sweetest sound. “you’re so dramatic in the morning.”

he clutches you tighter, gently rocking you until he rolls over, hovering above you, trapping you beneath him. he lowers his head, pressing soft, lingering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, everywhere.

“i’ll try to finish early, hm?” he pecks the tip of your nose. “then we can go on a little date. sound good?” he kisses your cheeks. “or we can just stay in…” a kiss to your chin, your forehead, the corner of your lips, teasing you. “kissing… loving you…”

and then finally, his lips find yours, warm and slow and full of sleepy affection.

your arms loop around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair, caressing the nape of his neck as you pull him impossibly closer. his hands rest on your waist, firm but gentle, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin as you melt into the kiss.

you pull back just enough to whisper, lips brushing his, “i think i like the last one better.”

yushi’s smile is soft, almost shy, before he leans in again, kissing you deeply, like he’s making a promise without saying a word.

he knows he should get up soon, knows he might be late for work if he stays in bed with you any longer, but none of that seems to matter right now.

because this—you, here, in his arms, loving him so sweetly—is always worth the time. always.

JAEHEE

mornings with daeyoung feel like something out of a quiet, tender romance movie—the kind that wraps around your heart and makes you want to live inside it forever. he always wakes up earlier, not because he has to, but because he wants to. he loves starting his day by making you breakfast, just to bring it to you in bed, to watch your sleepy smile bloom when you see him, to steal those quiet moments where the world feels like it’s only the two of you.

you would spend those slow mornings wrapped in each other’s arms, soft conversations melting into sleepy giggles, holding onto every second before life pulls you both away to your own responsibilities.

daeyoung adores waking up with you. he loves the weight of your body pressed against his, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth that seeps into his skin from being so close to you. there’s something sacred about opening his eyes and seeing you there, like you were made to be by his side. he doesn’t know how to live without this anymore. it’s you. it’s always you. he needs you there, every morning, every day.

when daeyoung’s eyes flutter open, the first thing he sees is your back facing him. a slow, fond smile tugs at his lips, and his arm instinctively tightens around your waist, pulling you closer as he leans in to breathe you in—your sweet scent, familiar and comforting.

he could stay like this. god, he wants to. but he knows you—you always seem to wake a few minutes after him, maybe because you miss his warmth when he’s gone. and he knows you love being greeted with breakfast, especially the kind he makes just for you.

so he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your bare shoulder before carefully unwrapping his arm from around you, moving slowly, reluctant to leave your side.

he tiptoes to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, splashing cool water on his face, moving quietly through the house to keep your peaceful sleep undisturbed.

he knows your moods well. some mornings you can eat a whole meal, needing the energy for your busy days. but on softer mornings like this, when your schedule is light and the world is quiet, you’re content with something simple—just a little fruit, a bit of yoghurt, your favourite juice. nothing too heavy. just enough.

so daeyoung prepares exactly that—carefully picking out your favourite fruits, chopping them into perfect little bites, arranging them in a bowl like it’s art just for you. he pours your favorite juice, sets out a small bowl of yoghurt, and prepares the same for himself, though truthfully, he doesn’t care much about what he eats—he’d happily trade his meal for five more minutes wrapped up in you.

when he returns to the room, balancing the breakfast tray in his hands, he’s just about to set it down and gently wake you—but your voice, soft and sweet, cuts through the morning hush.

“good morning, my love.”

you’re sitting up, your hair a tousled mess, your voice still thick with sleep, your smile lazy and beautiful, like sunlight slowly peeking over the horizon.

for daeyoung, this is you at your most beautiful—the real you. no pretenses, no careful details, just soft skin marked by the sheets, puffy eyes still adjusting to the day, messy hair he wants to bury his hands in. you, just you, and that’s all he’ll ever want.

“awesome morning, princess,” he grins, setting the tray in front of you on the bed.

he leans down to kiss you, soft and lingering, like a quiet promise, before gently pointing to everything he’s made for you, explaining each little thing like it’s his love letter to you in the form of breakfast.

as he sips his juice, a small, hesitant question slips from his lips. “do you really need to go home?” there’s a trace of sadness in his voice, so faint, but it’s there.

you smile, sweet and playful, feeding him a piece of the perfectly cut fruit. “hmm, i don’t know…” you tease, your voice laced with affection. “do you have a good reason for me to stay, mr. kim?”

he taps his chin, pretending to think, lips curling into a soft pout.

“you can spend the whole day at your awesome, ridiculously handsome boyfriend’s house while he drowns you in kisses, cuddles, movies, good meals and… did i mention kisses?” he beams, kissing your hand like you’re royalty.

you giggle, heart swelling, leaning in as you whisper, “i think those are all very good reasons.” and you press your lips to his.

he hums into the kiss, pulling you closer, his hand cradling the nape of your neck, deepening it like he’s trying to pour all his love into you in that single moment.

if it were up to him, he would spend every morning like this. every day. forever.

because there’s no place he’d rather be than here, waking up next to you, loving you, over and over again.

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct smut #nct wish fanfic #nct wish imagines #sion imagines #sion x reader #sion fanfic #maeda riku fanfic #maeda riku x reader #riku imagines #riku fanfic #riku x reader #yushi imagines #yushi fanfic #yushi x reader #jaehee imagines #jaehee fanfic #jaehee x reader

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eviemonroeer · 2 days ago

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The Monroe Effect: Chapter 15

Set during Season 5, Episode 21 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: blood, vomiting, mentions of abortion, fear of miscarriage, probable medical inaccuracies, angst

WC: 4.3 k (wow, I think this is the longest one yet and it's mainly original material!)

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, and @antisocialfiore

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

The best way to figure out if I was indeed pregnant, was via a blood test. It would be the most accurate. But how the hell was I supposed to put my blood into the system at work without it being suspicious? I couldn’t go through the clinic like I had with Carol; there was no prenatal clinic to hide the test. I guess I could go to another ER, but that meant I couldn’t put a rush on it. And I really needed to know if this was happening for sure, even if every nerve in my body was telling me it was. I did my best to stay clear of Carter, worried I would spill my guts if I was around him to long.

The afternoon/night shift was busy as normal. First it was the stripper and her weird “FBI” bodyguards and now, later in the evening, we were dealing with three teens in an accident on the way to prom. Major burns, possible paralysis, and another missing teen. It was a mess. And with this nausea, I was having a hard time focusing. Usually in traumas, my stomach was pretty calm, but I was fighting for my life to stay out of the bathroom. Thankfully I lasted until Carter tubed the poor burn victim before I took off.

I fell to my knees in the stall just as the vomit made its appearance. It felt like it went on forever; the minute I felt like I was done, it started again. Eventually all that was left was bile, and I was able to get my arms propped on the toilet bowl so I could lay my head down. This was the worst it had been in the last couple of days, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be lightening up soon.

Prying my eyes open, I used the stall to slowly stand up. I thought there was going to be a recurrence when a dizzy spell hit me, but thankfully the feeling past. I left the stall to clean up when I was met with the knowing stare of Carol Hathaway.

“Sorry Carol.” I said, moving past her to the sink. “I’m on my way back out there.”

“How far along are you?”

I stopped washing my hands and looked up at her in the mirror. There was no point in lying to her; Carol Hathaway knew me better then I knew myself sometimes. I bit my lip and turned off the sink, turning to her. I crossed my arms in front of my stomach and sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t even taken a test yet.”

“But you think you are?”

“I would say so with the sickness, the sensitivity to smell, and the fact that I already need to get a bigger bra.”

“That’s sounds about right.” Carol said and offered me a comforting smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. This whole situation is so unbelievably complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” Carol chuckled, trying to lighten the situation. “Am I allowed to ask who’s responsible?”

“I think it’s kind of obvious.”

“Carter?” I nodded. “Well, honestly, I’m surprised it took you guys this long. We all thought you would have hooked up years ago.”

“I’m guessing you all made bets too.”

“Of course. I think Malik might finally win.” I scoffed and shook my head. “Does he know yet?”

“No. I thought I should at least take a test and have concrete proof before I ruin the poor boy’s life.”

“You’re not going to ruin his life. Maybe scare him a little. That is if......do you want to keep the baby?”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I... I don’t know. I stayed up most of last night thinking about it. I have a job, a place to live. I’ve always wanted to have a family. I’ve had this maternal instinct for a while. But am I actually ready for this? Am I ready to be in charge of a whole other human being’s life? Someone who is going to rely on me for everything. That is a lot of work. And I don’t have a big support system. Just my aunt. But she lives states away and we only see each other or talk every so often.

“And I mean, Carter is.... Carter. And up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t think he looked at me like that; I thought we were just friends. I mean we’ve flirted back and forth for years, but it was always in good fun. Then Lucy had to go and kick him and mess everything up. If he didn’t want to have this kid, I don’t know if I could work here anymore. He’s stuck here until he finishes residency, and I don’t know if I could see him every day if I decided to keep this baby and he didn’t want it.” I started to feel the tears well up in my eyes. Carol walked forward and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in. “I just feel really confused and alone right now.”

“You’re not alone in this, no matter what you choose.” Carol paused for a moment. “Especially because I’m pregnant too.”

“What?” I exclaimed and pushed back, looking at her. “H-how far along?”

“Almost fifteen weeks.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I’ve kind of wanted to keep it to myself. Not have any judgement.”

“Carol, if anyone’s going to be judged, it’s me. At least you and Ross were engaged. I conceived this baby in the...... Never mind.” I shook my head. “You know, I think we might be about eight weeks apart.”

“We should probably tell the other nurses that they shouldn’t be drinking the water here.”

I laughed, a weak laugh, but a laugh, nonetheless. “Would you mind taking my blood? Just so I know for sure.”

“I can. Why don’t we go to the suture room?”

A few minutes later, we were set up for the blood draw. She was gentle when she stuck the needle in. It only took a moment, but I knew this test would confirm what I already knew and change my whole life. Well not only my life, but Carter’s life. I began walking back to admit for a new patient to try and focus myself on something else until I got the results, when Carter walked into the hall, tossing something in the trash.

“Hey Evie, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Not right now Carter. I’m busy.” I turned and went back down the other way.

“It’ll just take a minute.” I just ignored him, trying to find another doctor or patient to help. “Genevieve, stop!”

The sound of my full name was the thing that pumped the brakes. I turned back quickly to look at Carter. “What do you want, John?”

Carter scoffed and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the nearby exam room. “What is wrong with you? You’ve barely talked to me lately. I thought we were back in a good place after we talked.” He paused. “Or have you been avoiding me because you don’t want to turn me down?”

I sighed. “Carter now isn’t the time to talk about this.” I tried going for the door again, but he grabbed me.

“Yes, it is. You won’t talk to me unless I corner you or it has to do with a patient. Evie, I thought I was at least your friend. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Carter, I can’t. Not here.”

“Evie, please.”

“Carter I—uh!”

A sharp pain radiated through my lower belly and into my pelvis. I hissed and grabbed my stomach, doubling over. “You okay, Evie?” Carter asked, trying steady me.

“Uh.... I don’t know.” I moaned, still reeling from the pain.

“Evie, you’re bleeding.”

That snapped me out of it. “What?!” I looked down and sure enough there was a blood stain on my scrubs. I looked up and met Carter’s eyes, tears already beginning to pool in my eyes.

“Okay, let’s get you on the gurney.” He instructed and helped me over to the bed, before sticking his head out the door. “I need some help here!” At the sound of his call for help, Carol came running, her eyes widening as she saw me.

“Randi, page Mark.” She called out over her shoulder and came over to me. I was crying by this point, holding my stomach, and praying that I wasn’t losing the baby.

“Evie, baby, it’s going to be okay.” Carter said as he and Carol got me up on the bed. At the word baby, my crying only got worse. God, he was gonna hate me forever. The door to the exam room burst open seconds later as Mark walked in, already putting on gloves.

“What’s going on?” he asked Carter.

“Sudden onset pain followed by vaginal bleeding.” Carter explained. “I don’t know what happened. One minute we were talking and the next, she doubled over.”

“I’m so sorry.” I cried, looking at Carter.

“Evie—”

“Please don’t hate me.” Carter looked down at me, confused. I swallowed and turned to Mark. “I’m pregnant. Seven weeks, give or take. I haven’t seen a doctor yet.”

The whole room stopped. Carol closed her eyes and sighed, knowing how I felt now that the secret was out. Mark was speechless. And Carter...... God, Carter had to be pissed by the way his face started to redden.

“Okay, let’s page OB and get an ultrasound machine.” Mark told Carol before turning back to me. “Gen, have you had bleeding or cramping before?”

“No. This is the first time.” I knew by the look on Mark’s face, he could tell I was scared.

“Okay, don’t worry. We’ve got you. And you’ve been having morning sickness?”

“Yes, pretty consistently.”

“Carter, start an IV.” But the young doctor stayed in place, just staring at my belly. I could tell by the look on his face that he was doing the math in his head. I really wanted to shout at him, ‘Yes Carter we made this baby in the films room, now move your ass!” But I didn’t have too.

“Carter!” Mark shouted, snapping him out of it. “Start an IV. She probably dehydrated and that won’t help the cramping.”

Carter nodded and went into autopilot mode, getting an IV started in my arm. I turned and faced him as he hung a banana bag. “I’m sorry.” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Despite the slight anger that simmered in Carter, he couldn’t help his heart breaking for her. She looked so vulnerable lying there on the gurney, obviously fearing the worst, already mourning the life inside her. Carter shook his head and pet her head, resting his hand at the top. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. We’ll talk about this later. I’m here now.” Another sob left her body. He squeezed her hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss as well.

Carol finally came back and rolled the ultrasound machine into the room. Mark sat down, setting up to run it. “Okay Gen, we’re going to do an abdominal ultrasound to see what’s going on.” Mark slowly rolled up my scrub top and put a line of gel along my lower abdomen, placing the probe on my stomach. He pressed down a little as the machine came to life. The black and white screen was fuzzy, but as he moved the probe a little, a clear picture of the inside of my uterus came into focus. And thankfully the black circle looked to still have something inside of it.

“Okay, there’s the baby.” Mark explained, pointing to the little bean shape. “And there’s......” He clicked on the machine and suddenly a fast-whooshing sound filled the room. “There’s the heartbeat.” Everyone collectively breathed a sigh of relief and my sobs turned to ones of thanks. “Okay, let’s see if we can find out what’s going on.”

Mark continued the examination the best he could, probably pulling everything from his OB rotation to the best of his memory. “It looks to me that the bleeding is coming from a small spot right here.” He pointed at the screen, to another smaller black circle next to the gestational sac. “I don’t want to risk moving you right now. We’re gonna get OB down here to take a look and confirm. Once they do that, they will advise on what to do next.” He paused and looked at Carter. “Are you guys going to be okay without me?”

Carter ran a hand over his face before nodding. “Yeah....yeah. We’re good.” Mark nodded and left the room, Carol right behind him.

I let out the breath I was holding as Carter walked away, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. “How long have you known?” Carter asked, his hand grabbing at the back of his neck.

Way to get straight to the point.

“I started having symptoms a week or so ago. Just discounted them as stress at first, or my period. But then recently, I started having nausea and that kind of tipped me off. I don’t really ever get that kind of sick. I put in for a blood test to confirm, but I hadn’t gotten the results back before this happened. I wanted to wait till I was sure I had something to tell you before I did.”

I saw him hesitate a moment. “Are you wanting to keep the baby?”

“I thought that would be something we talk about together.”

Carter went to open his mouth but before he could, the door to the exam room opened and Dr. Coburn walked in followed by Dr. Greene. “Good evening, Ms. Monroe. Dr. Carter. Why don’t we take a look at what’s going on?” I nodded and rolled my shirt back up as Carter returned to my side. Dr. Coburn pulled the ultrasound machine over again and started her scan. I felt Carter grab my hand as she looked.

She was quiet for some time, tapping on the keyboard and moving the probe back and forth. I couldn’t even see the monitor this time. It worried me. “Dr. Greene, I think your diagnosis is correct.” She finally moved the ultrasound monitor so Carter and I could see it. “There is a subchorionic hematoma, right here.” She pointed at the screen. “It’s a buildup of blood between the chorionic membrane around the baby and the uterine wall. Thankfully it’s pretty small, caught it before it got worse.” She pressed another group of buttons and the baby’s heartbeat filled the room again. “Heartbeat is good. 105 BPM, perfect for this stage of development. Measurements are at seven weeks, three days. Does that seem about right?”

“Yes.” I replied. Dr. Coburn nodded and turned off the machine.

“We’ll get you some ultrasound pictures and set you up with a follow up appointment in a few days in my office. There are no real treatments for this kind of hematoma. You really just have to sit and wait for it to heal on its own. I’m gonna start you with bed rest for two weeks, maybe more depending on your follow up. If you’re cleared to come back to work, you’ll need to be on desk duty until you’re out of the first trimester. Do you think you can do that?”

“We can work it out.” Mark said, stepping in.

Coburn nodded. “That means you’re done for the day. Do you have someone who can take you home? Help you get comfortable?”

“N—”

“Dr. Carter’s shift is done.” Mark interrupted again. “We can cover it. I’ll talk to Kerry.”

“Perfect.” Coburn said, looking between us all. “Bed rest, Ms. Monroe. I mean it. Someone from my office will be in touch about your follow up tomorrow. Don’t hesitate to call if something happens, or you know where the ER is.” Coburn patted the bed and stood, walking out of the exam room.

“Carter, why don’t you go finish up with the patients you have now and pass them off while Gen finishes her banana bag. I’ll have Carol come in with your stuff, a change of clothes, and we’ll get you set to go home.”

“I have an intubated patient waiting to go up to the burn unit.” Carter explained.

“You can sign him over to me. Go get started.” Carter nodded and then looked at me. I nodded too, letting him know it was okay to leave before he turned and walked out.

“I take it you don’t want anyone else to know why you’re in here, right?” Mark asked, now that we were alone. “We can keep it private.”

“They’re gonna know anyway. You can’t force anyone out. But any privacy would be nice.”

Mark nodded. “I’m assuming he didn’t know until now.” I bit my lip as tears pricked in my eyes again. All I could do was nod. “It’ll be okay.” Mark put a hand on mine and squeezed it, before exiting the room, leaving me truly alone for the first time.

The tears flowed freely as I sobbed at the mess my life had just turned into.

Thankfully for once, everyone minded their business as Carol wheeled me out of the exam room and out to the ambulance bay. We waited a couple of minutes before Carter pulled his car in and they got me in the passenger’s seat. Before she shut the door, Carol handed me my purse and the strip of ultrasound photos, a hopeful smile on her face, despite her own red eyes.

We pulled out of the ambulance bay and started the route to my apartment. “Here.” Carter said, pulling something out of his shirt pocket. “I found these in the lounge. Thought they might help.”

It was a small package of crackers, most likely from someone’s salad. “Thanks.” I opened them and lightly nibbled on them, trying to keep my stomach from getting upset.

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m alright. The banana bag helped. I haven’t been able to keep much down lately. Even water.”

He nodded and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. He fidgeted in his seat, obviously unsure of what to say next. “Do you have any food in your apartment? You’re going to have to eat some time.”

“I have some basic things. I’ve kind of been living off the B.R.A.T. diet for the last couple of weeks.”

“I thought you looked skinnier.” He mumbled. “Do you want me to stop and get anything?”

“I really just want to go home, take a shower, and go to bed if that’s okay.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet. He thankfully found a spot in front of my building and parked, shutting the door and running over to my side before I could even get my door open. He helped me from the car and took my things, including the ultrasounds as he placed his right arm around my back and his left hand grabbed mine. We were slow walking up the few steps to the front door. Thankfully my building had an elevator or Carter probably would have had a conniption.

He took my keys and unlocked the door for me. “Where to now?”

“I’m going to the bathroom to take a shower.” I unhooked myself from him. “Alone.”

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I turned and laid my forehead against it, taking a deep breath before turning the lock. Once I got the shower started, I stripped and proceeded to thoroughly scrub my body, wanting to get any feel or smell of being in that hospital bed off me. Even when the water ran cold, I did another pass before I felt totally clean. I wrapped up my hair and then dried my body with my fluffiest towel. As I began drying off, I realized I hadn’t grabbed any clothes on my way into the bathroom, so I would have to walk to my bedroom to get them. I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. I looked down the hall towards my room and then down towards the living room.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelled and put my hand over my heart.

“Are you okay?” Carter asked, jumping up from his chair to grab me.

“You scared the crap out of me!” I pushed his chest. “Why were you sitting outside of the bathroom door?”

“In case something happened, and you needed me.”

“The only thing I need is a defibrillator after that heart attack you just gave me.” I started walking towards my bedroom to change, but Carter was on my tail.

“You have some soup. I could make you that if you want.”

“How about some toast?” I went to close the door behind me when his hand caught it. “Can I help you?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was just being overbearing.

But then I actually looked at him.

He was scared. Terrified even.

I suddenly felt like such an ass. At least I had some time to process the possibility of a baby. He learned it was happening while we feared I was losing it. And Carter could be so deeply empathetic. Sometimes I forgot that about him, especially in high intensity moments. It always surprised me since he came from a family that lived like they were childless, people who didn’t show love. But I guess that’s what made it make sense.

I sighed and wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly. “I’m okay.” I felt him squeeze me back, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m going to get dressed. I would appreciate it if you would make me a couple pieces of plain toast and then we can talk.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.” He kissed my forehead and then turned to head back to the front of the apartment as I turned back to my bedroom and shut the door.

“Try this.” Carter handed me a plate with two pieces of toast on it. “Eat slow.” I was now seated on my couch in my comfiest pair of sweats. I took a small bite and my stomach stayed calm, so maybe I was getting a break.

“Thanks.”

We both were quiet at I finished the first piece, which was probably the most of anything I had in the last few hours, if not day. I decided not to mess it up and put the plate with the other piece on the table. “You alright?” Carter asked.

“Yeah. Just trying not to overdo it.” I watched him ring his hands together. Might as well get this over with. “I promise I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want to tell you before I had proof that there was a baby. Before everything happened, Carol had taken my blood and sent off for a test.” I scoffed. “I imagine the results are ready now.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

“I think we should have this baby.”

I looked up and my eyes went wide. “What?” I asked, not sure I had heard him right.

“I want to have this baby with you. We might not be a couple, but you are my best friend. I honestly trust and care about you more than anyone else in my life. I can’t think of anyone else better to have a baby with then you.” He paused. “But only if that’s what you want. If you don’t want to, I’m not going to be mad. I’ll even hold your hand through the procedure.” He took a deep breath. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m scared.” I choked laugh coming out of me. “Petrified even. Even though I see babies and kids every day, I feel like I don’t know the first thing about raising one. But when I started bleeding, I was more scared of losing it.” I paused and took a deep breath. “I want to have this baby too.” And probably due to the adrenaline leaving my body, I began to sob.

Carter put his arms around me and held me tightly, kissing the top of my head as I sobbed into his chest. I even ended up crawling into his lap at some point and he just held me. And the whole entire time he just kept whispering, ‘I got you’ over and over again.

She had passed out at some point due to the crying. Evie was still in his lap, breathing steadily with her head resting on his shoulder. Carter decided it would be best to move her to her bed so she could be comfy, even if it risked waking her up. He held her in his arms like she was made of glass as he walked down the hall, before laying her in her bed. He covered her and went to leave the room.

“Please stay.”

He turned back around and saw Evie, her eyes open and looking at him. He nodded and turned off the lights before joining her in the bed. She crawled over to him and snuggled up beside him. “I don’t think we should tell anyone until I get the all clear.” She said in a small voice.

“I agree.” He said and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“And we will, but you need to rest tonight.”

And the two laid in each other’s arms until they fell asleep.

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