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sorryimananti-romantic · 2 days ago

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Dancing Like Butterfly Wings

ateez ot8 x reader

genres and warnings: fluff, a sprinkle of angst in the beginning, slice of life, highschool au, coming of age, just teens having fun, mentions of smoking

word count: 15k

synopsis: you did not expect to basically get adopted by a group of boys when you transfer to your new school. at first, you think they are friends with you to prove sth to their rival-of-sorts, but later you find a home in them.

a/n: i must thank @eightmakesonebraincell for enabling this. it was genuinely so fun to write this without worrying about the plot and plot twists and worldbuilding.

Spring is a marker for new beginnings. The cherry blossoms bloom in all their pastel pink glory, the petals covering the streets in their wake. Some children try to avoid stepping on them and it turns into a game– anyone who steps on more than five petals on their way to school loses. Teens keep their heads raised up to the sky, having heard the famous saying about the cherry blossoms; if you catch a petal, your first love becomes true.

Some of them haven’t had their first love yet. They are on their way to school, junior year, just like you. They are struggling to catch a petal with the hopes that the boy or the girl they said goodbye to before the year break ends up in their class, maybe even gets seated right next to them. With that little bubble of hope in their hearts, they jump around and their giggles echo in the streets.

The old folks who are just out for their usual morning walk or to see their children or grandchildren off laugh along in reminiscence and if you stop by to admire the scene, it seems straight out of a musical.

However, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and you are not a great appreciator of beauty. Some might even say you’re not worthy of being called a beholder at all. You should have been– as an old friend had the honour of telling you once– 'I don't know, a snail!'. You dodge the little kids who jump so unpredictably yet rather expertly, avoid the students who look to be about your age like the plague and somehow, make your way to your new school without an eventful morning.

You’re clutching onto the shoulder straps of your bag as if someone would notice that you need help. However, the guard urges you to rush inside as the school bell is about to ring. With a deep breath, you take one step, and another, and then another–

Until someone bumps against your shoulders and you find yourself losing balance, a startled little sound escaping your mouth as you find yourself pulled by gravity. Another pair of hands grabs your bag, propelling you up before you end up kissing the pavement. You look towards your right where the assailant– you have no better word in your vocabulary to call the rowdy boy who bumped against you and almost killed you– stands. He looks genuinely worried for a hot second but when he realises that he has not caused fatal damage, he bursts into a feline grin, tells you ‘my bad!’ and continues to rush towards the school building.

You hardly have time to look at your saviour. Everything is happening too quickly. He makes sure you’re steady before he zooms off after the assailant. All you can make out is that he is tall and very light on his feet, the navy blue uniform jacket in his hand almost flying in the air behind him.

While you are processing how you almost made it to your first day at your new school with a bust lip, you instinctively wrap your arms around your chest as more boys rush past you, calling after the duo. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath, hoping that your junior year will be uneventful, that this school year will pass by with you unnoticed, a part of the background. And you pray that no one recognises you here.

You didn’t exactly leave your old school on a good note.

However, when you finally find your class after a trip to the teachers’ office and muster the courage to stop a random, kind-looking girl to ask for directions, you notice a few things.

Firstly, the classroom is not as big as your old classroom, which means that there are less students and more chances of people noticing and remembering you. You will have to try harder to merge into the background, but–

The duo from earlier is in this class, with the tall boy recognisable because he is not facing you. He turns to look at the time and you meet eyes for a second, though he probably does not recognise you either. He has a puppy-like charm to him in the way his eyes curve when he smiles. You remain frozen at the entrance, willing the other boy to not notice you, but he does and offers you a cheerful wave. You don’t respond in any way, a tap on your shoulder making you restrain a groan.

Upon turning, you find that it’s your homeroom teacher, the one you had just talked to in the office. She smiles warmly at you.

“Good timing. Come in, let’s introduce you to your class.”

“But–”

The words get stuck in your mouth when Miss Ji claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. The boys and girls settle down and you are the only one awkwardly standing in the front, fiddling with your fingers and finding it hard to swallow the anxiety.

“Alright, let’s see… oh, Nabi is back in my class. That’s good, and… Seonghwa! How wonderful, but– oh, no…”

“Oh, yes, Miss Ji!” The boy who bumped into you earlier is quick to respond. “You cannot keep separating the eight of us every year! It’s not going to work anymore.”

Miss Ji seems to consider his statement. Was that a challenge?

“Come on, Miss Ji,” the tall boy pleads and you count the boys who are nodding their heads in unison and pleading. Yes, exactly eight of them. “We will be nice to you. We promise.”

“Only if you insist, Yunho, because you are my favourite,” she says and Yunho grins, receiving congratulatory pats from his friends. You observe them with mild curiosity. It looks like they are old friends, which you suppose is nice.

Except there is an empty seat in the middle of them which could be your potential spot for the rest of your year. There is also an empty seat by the window and you would prefer that, but–

Miss Ji asks you to introduce yourself and you bow to the class, clear your throat and say your name in a robotic tone.

“I transferred from Ilsan Tech High School. I hope we will have a good year ahead.”

The class claps for you, but it’s a little dull. Still, the girls look at you with a sort of vulnerable excitement in their eyes, perhaps wondering if you could be the new addition to their group. You don’t smile back at anyone, making sure to disappoint them because it will hurt less if you do it now. The boys mostly appear uninterested, too busy with their gadgets except the assailant who is grinning devilishly.

“Alright, you can take the seat next to Wooyoung there,” Miss Ji points and you follow her hand to where she points, your heart sinking a bit dramatically when you realise that the name Wooyoung belongs to your assailant.

“Uh… is there a chance that I can take the empty seat in the corner instead?”

“Oh, that one?” One of the girls in the front points and answers for the teacher. “That seat belongs to Yuna. She’s probably in the nurse room right now.”

“Ah…” you offer a weak smile as a thanks and begrudgingly make your way towards the assailant who seems too happy to have you to his right. You take your seat in the single row, in front of the girl Miss Ji named earlier, Nabi. The group of eight is on your left and right, with another boy in front of you who doesn’t seem to be a part of this little gang.

Your homeroom teacher details what she expects from this junior year in the present term, asks all of you to take your studies seriously this year and to start preparing for what senior year brings in advance– to start thinking about your future. While she talks, a paper plane flies over your head and you have to focus hard to not let the boys’ incessant giggles get to you.

Miss Ji shakes her head at the bunch and says, “I’m personally going to separate you guys if you don’t cooperate with me.”

“Yes ma’am!” The eight of them respond in synchrony and your eyelid twitches involuntarily. As soon as Miss Ji leaves the room, Wooyoung taps on your desk.

“Sorry for ruining your morning,” he says with a hand over his chest. “Shall I treat you to some bread and strawberry milk today to make up for it?”

“Uh… no thanks,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s okay.”

“So you do admit that he ruined your morning,” the boy who sits next to Wooyoung leans forward, pushing Wooyoung back a bit so he can see you better. “I’m Jongho. If anyone bothers you, you can tell me.”

“Well… right now you’re both bothering me,” you mumble and the duo clutch their hearts dramatically. You wonder if there’s a theatre class in this school because if there is and this duo isn’t a part of it, the theatre class is missing out on some talent. “I’ll be fine, thank you very much.”

“Come on, boys, don’t bother her,” the voice on your right says and you look at the boy who’s too pretty to be called handsome. “Let her be. It’s her first day, don’t overwhelm her.”

Seonghwa. He seems like the sane one out of the bunch. You give him a subtle nod to thank him and he just smiles in response, arranging the books on his desk neatly and tucking the long strands of his hair back.

However, you find two packs of bread and two flavours of milk on your desk during recess either way. You returned to a mostly empty class after going to the toilet first (and almost getting lost on your way back). You consider shoving the goods inside Wooyoung’s desk but you figure that if you just accept these, he’ll stop bothering you for good.

With that thought, you open the vanilla bread and chocolate milk and enjoy your lunch in peace. There is only a group of friends at the front eating their lunch and chatting among themselves, ignoring your presence and you don’t pay attention to them. You finish your lunch and rest your head on the desk for a much-needed post-meal nap when someone dares to tap on your shoulder and interrupt your peace.

It’s hardly been half a day and you’re already at your wits’ ends. You prepare to snap at the person because you’re sure it’s Wooyoung or one of his friends, but to your surprise, you find that it’s the girl who sits behind you, Nabi.

“Have you had lunch?”

“Uh, yeah,” you straighten. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, any sort of help, you can ask me,” she says with a trademark smile that you can sense is just for show. Her long, straight hair gets flipped back as she looks over her shoulders. “I know Wooyoung can be a bit too much. If you ever want to switch seats, you can do that with me.”

Now, you’re not a fan of Wooyoung, but if she knows that Wooyoung can be too much, why would she offer to switch seats with you? She can’t be a saint, could she?

You tell her that you will think about it. And think you do.

Over the course of the next few days as you struggle to keep up with your studies, adjust to this class and train yourself to think of the group of boys around you as background noise (even though they are anything but with their constant check-ins and every day treats on your desks because apparently, you have not verbally forgiven Wooyoung so he is bound to be your slave for ‘eternity’), you notice one thing.

Nabi cares for Seonghwa.

Seonghwa does not care for Nabi. In fact, it looks like the group of them have beef with Nabi.

Nabi and Seonghwa, you find, are the best students in the class. The ‘model’ students. They are also vice president and president respectively. Seonghwa tries to be civil, but Nabi reads too much into his kindness and mistakes it for something else. Her level of infatuation with Seonghwa is such that she is willing to risk damaging her eardrums just so she gets to sit next to Seonghwa.

You also learn that Nabi does not like you very much, and maybe that’s why the boys keep coddling you even though you keep snapping at them.

But you weigh your options. What is the worst the yapper who sits next to you could do? Girls can be dangerous when mad, that you know very well from your experience in your previous school. Girls can be very, very mean to their own people.

Of course, boys can be mean and violent too, but they generally don’t bother with girls. Or maybe, you’re just a traditional stereotypical arse who thinks she knows too much when your only experience is from your previous school. Either way, you want to spend the rest of your school life silently, without coming out of the shadows. You don’t want sworn enmity from Nabi or, well, be a cockblocker. If she wants to attempt to woo Seonghwa when it seems like all he cares about is his studies or the clumsy boy Hongjoong who sits next to him, you’re not gonna be the wall that prevents her from doing so. You’ll let Seonghwa’s other friends play that.

So one moody Monday morning, you catch Nabi in the hallway and let her know that you can switch seats with her. The joy on her face is innocent and you almost smile. Her group of friends cheer for her and with that, you go to drop your bag in the class and find a quiet spot until the bell rings.

None of the boys have arrived in class yet. You do smile to yourself at the thought of how they will react. Maybe you’ll like your spot between San and Mingi better. They appear intimidating but it didn’t take you long to realise that they’re the softest of their group, thanks to the duo making sure you don’t feel overwhelmed by Wooyoung who has made it his life’s mission to serve you.

The sound of the gentle breeze and the rustling of spring leaves lull you into a calm headspace and you soak in every bit of these few serene moments, sitting under the tree as your head rocks to the rhythm of nature. How nice is it to find a quiet spot like this in a busy place like a school? You wonder if someone shares this spot with you at some other time– there are signs of life here. A wrapper of a candy that someone must have forgotten to throw, a stick wedged in one of the pots with someone’s name on it–

“There she is!”

Your hackles rise at the all too familiar voice of a certain self-proclaimed slave. You don’t want to be a master. You don’t want to feel like a Queen. So instead of addressing your subject, you gather your things and disappear into the maze that is this school.

Each step you take is urgent and there is a battle rhythm playing in your head– when did that happen? You march forward more like a soldier than a lord, head hanging low and eyes suspicious as they scan the crowd and guide you in your navigation to the classroom. You check the time– maybe if you get to your new seat before the boys, right before the teacher comes in and they can no longer bother you–

Before you can take a turn, a pair of large hands grab you by your upper arms and rotate you until you face the left, steering you towards the stairs as you swallow your gasp. You have hardly craned your neck upwards to identify your new assailant when a baseball cap gets fixed over your head. You mumble a few words of protest but you have no choice but to get taken to this unknown location that is a suspicious-looking room on the upper level.

You shut your eyes and brace yourself for what’s next when the door opens. However, you open your eyes almost immediately as you’re hit by the smell of baked treats. Did you get portalled to a bakery–

And there is your servant, clad in an apron as if he baked these treats himself here. The expressions on your face must be theatrical because the boys stifle their laugh as you look around. You have definitely portalled to another world, because there is no way a room like this exists in this school that seems to be barely holding itself.

The room isn’t too big but the shelves have been lined to the walls and decorated with ornaments. You spot a few snow globes and far too many plushies of each and every kind and colour, and realise that someone must have an obsession– and then there’s lego figures on another shelf, neatly stacked and colour coordinated. The lower shelves contain comics and at the corner by the window, there is an old sofa that is covered with pink sheets and cushions.

There is a basketball net attached to a makeshift hoop and you spot a basketball and balls of all sizes lying around. You were aware the school had a basketball team and if you think hard, you might actually recall who among these boys play in the team, except…

You are kind of distracted by the baked goods and cans of flavoured drinks that are neatly arranged on the table in the middle of the room.

A hideout. That is what this must be.

You finally look behind you to confirm the identity of your new assailant and gasp when you find that it’s Yunho– the other model student. He grins a bit too wide at your annoyance and you turn to face Wooyoung and Jongho who seem to be the masterminds behind this.

“What is wrong with you people?”

“Wrong seems to be an overstatement,” Jongho pleads his case. “Off, maybe. Not right. But not wrong.”

“Why did you switch seats with–”

Jongho smacks Wooyoung’s chest with an open palm while standing next to him, unmoving, his eyes never leaving yours. The loud thump of his attack echoes dramatically off the walls of this small room and you can hear distant giggles being masked. As Wooyoung doubles over and retreats, Jongho continues to smile innocently while your jaw all but drops to the floor.

Yunho, hands still on your arms, steers you to the chair and makes you sit before dragging another seat close to you, offering you a croissant. You, still watching Wooyoung worriedly as he gathers his energy and his pride, subconsciously start to nibble on it. When the chocolate filling hits you, you finally blink and inspect the croissant. It’s actually good–

“Made by yours truly,” says Wooyoung in a weak voice. You make an impressed face and figure that since you’re trapped, you might as well enjoy the treat. San comes over to set some cans in front of you and you point at the cola which he opens with one finger effortlessly before setting it in front of you and you purse your lips to keep from smiling.

“Can you answer my questions now?” You ask Jongho when you’re done finishing the croissant and he offers you a cupcake with salted caramel frosting next. “What is this? A bribe? You’re trying to break my morale with baked goods?”

“It seems to be working,” Yeosang comments from your right where he’s sitting by the window next to Mingi and Hongjoong, who is half asleep as per usual. He doesn’t seem to be a morning person and consistently naps throughout half the classes too.

You shoot him a glare but you don’t deny it. The more you eat these treats, the more relaxed you become. Maybe this is how the special officers should treat their spies.

Seonghwa hovers around the lot of you, nervously moving around and fixing things that do not need to be fixed, stealing glances at you. You look over to Yeosang. “Maybe you should calm that one first.”

He laughs with an approving clap and you finally break into a smile, though you are quick to turn it into a dirty look as you lock eyes with Wooyoung. “You tell me what’s going on or I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave–”

“Why did you switch seats with Nabi?”

You look at Jongho. “Like hell I can’t leave,” you say and turn to leave just to prove a point but Seonghwa is quick to rush over to the door while San and Yunho basically manhandle you back into the seat despite your protests.

“This is bullying!” You yell at them and they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You turn to Wooyoung, feeling anger rise up in your throat. “Why can’t I switch seats with Nabi? I’m going to be honest, I don’t like my current spot. I would have preferred a corner or an end seat, so when she offered, I wanted to accept right away.”

“What made you hesitate?” Mingi asks, the first time he directly converses with you.

You take a deep breath. “That does not matter��”

“It does,” he asserts. “So tell us what made you hesitate and if it makes sense, we’ll let you be.”

“Mingi–” Wooyoung warns but gets ignored, the room falling silent as the boys wait for your response.

“Look. I don’t know why you guys are giving me special treatment, but I figured that it’s got something to do with Nabi. I know she wants to sit next to Seonghwa,” you admit, meeting eyes with said boy meekly as he comes into your vision. “I don’t know if you guys hate her or something, but it’s got nothing to do with me, and I would honestly risk your wrath than hers. She doesn’t seem like a very nice person.”

“Oh, you don’t want to risk our wrath–” Wooyoung begins but gets interrupted by Seonghwa.

“She isn’t,” he admits in a soft, quiet voice which makes you shift your attention to him. He appears nervous, his eyes darting over to Hongjoong who is watching the scene unfold in front of him with one eye open. “She… can be persistent. It’s been a while since the eight of us have been in one class, and yet she’s here to torture me again.”

“Torture you?” You question.

“She follows him to every class. She’s got connections so she makes it happen,” Hongjoong answers for his friend, folding his arms. “Call it an obsession, call it infatuation, but she’s willing to hurt us and our group just to get Seonghwa’s attention.”

“Have you… tried talking to her?” You look at Wooyoung. “You could. You would certainly get the point across.”

“She’s as tough as Wooyoung, if not more,” San scoffs. “She won’t back down. She just wants Seonghwa to be her friend first. She wants to study with him because he’s better than her in some areas. Where he’s not… he takes help from Yunho or someone else but Nabi, and that pisses her off.”

“Sounds like a nutcase,” you comment. “But now you see why I have no choice but to accept her demand to switch seats. She will ruin my life, and I just barely got away with my life getting ruined at my previous school, so I’m sorry but Nabi is your old friend and enemy. Deal with her yourselves.”

Hurt flashes across Seonghwa’s eyes and you almost take back your statement, but it is the survival of the fittest here and you’re not the fittest. So survive you must, however that may be.

“She can’t hurt you. We will protect you and make sure that does not happen,” Yunho speaks. A promise, and your heart almost flutters at the determination in his voice. “We can’t do much since we don’t have the power to get to Nabi directly, but what we can do is make you stay in your current seat. Granted, she’s still like a shadow hovering over Seonghwa from her actual seat, but it’s far better than being right next to him and bothering him every minute of the day.”

“He bothers me every minute of the day,” you point at Wooyoung and he laughs in disbelief. “I don’t complain.”

“I don’t stalk you–”

“How did you find me today?”

“We searched for you, not stalked you, you fool!” Wooyoung retaliates and you straighten up.

“Fool?” You gape at his audacity. “How dare–”

“Guys, stop,” Seonghwa butts in and makes you both sit back down before things escalate. “She’s right. It’s not her responsibility to act as a buffer for us.”

“A sane person in this group,” you clap.

“But…” Seonghwa purses his lips guiltily as he looks at you. “We’re not letting you leave until you agree that you won’t switch seats with Nabi.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is one of betrayal. “You’ll miss all your classes.”

“I never wanted to be the model student,” Seonghwa flicks his bangs away dramatically, and in that moment, you think that you see a little bit of Wooyoung in him. But as you look around, watching their proud faces as they smile at Seonghwa, you realise two things.

They’re all the same.

They won’t back down.

“Why me?” You ask in defeat, finally accepting the cupcake and Jongho smiles like a proud father.

“Because sweetheart,” Wooyoung leans forward, spooning some chocolate chips to sprinkle over your cupcake. “I have a feeling that you’re just like us. And I’m never wrong. I didn’t become your servant for no reason,” he says, offering you some tissues and you listen to his reasoning as you eat the cupcake. “I recognise the glint in your eyes. You’re kind of… a menace yourself too.”

You narrow your eyes but don’t deny anything and he takes note of that.

“I don’t know what happened to you or why you’ve decided to just hide in this school now,” he continues, “But I’m not going to let you create a shell around yourself when you’re a gleaming pearl. It’s just a shame that not everybody can see that.”

Your lips curve into an ‘oh’. “Didn’t realise you were a poet too. Apart from being a certified yapper.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he points at the table. “Baked last night just for you. I got a whiff of your evil little plan to switch seats.”

“How?”

Wooyoung simply smiles in response which makes you wonder if one of his talents is reading minds.

What you don’t realise is that you had been far too obvious.

It was Yeosang who overheard your conversation with Nabi about switching seats. At first, they thought that you would switch instantly like any normal person, but when you didn’t, they started to think that you were onto something. They watched you observe Seonghwa and Nabi for the following days and Wooyoung decided to continue with his self-proclaimed servant persona, just to annoy Nabi, since she could have been getting these treats too.

The more they interacted with you, the more they liked you– first, it was because it was so obvious that Nabi had an instant dislike for you. You were sitting next to Seonghwa– not right next to him, but still close enough. You were struggling to fit in and Seonghwa, ever the saint, was guiding you academically, in a very subtle, casual and easygoing manner, though Wooyoung always butted in and made things a little more… fun. They also noticed how you were able to match the freak of the freakiest freak in their group, Wooyoung, and decided that he needed competition.

What really sealed the deal was when you confronted Nabi when you found her going through Seonghwa’s notes while he and his friends were absent from the class. It was something you did without realising the implications– you simply asked Nabi if Seonghwa knew that she was going through his notes. She smiled and said something about how they’re old friends and didn’t mind stuff like this, but the way she immediately went back to her seat confirmed your suspicions. The boy who sat in front of you told Seonghwa about the little interaction.

So it was no wonder that you were here today, trapped with this sugar bait with orders not to leave the room until you agreed to go back to your original seating position. If the boys were going to miss all the classes today with you, then so be it. You were not going to back down.

“Toilet break?” You ask after a couple of hours, seated near the window on a chair with a comic in your hand. Mingi seemed to have quite the collection.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes at you, suspecting your every move. You raise a brow in challenge. “You won’t be denying a girl her toilet break, will you?”

“Guards,” Wooyoung called and Yunho and San got up almost mechanically. “Accompany her to the toilet. Make sure you use the one on the upper levels so she does not have an exit.”

“Yes sir!” San and Yunho proceed to station themselves in front of the door, waiting for you. You roll your eyes so hard that it sends a wave of pain in your head.

“I’m also going to be making a stop at the canteen,” you announce. “I think I’ll be sick if I eat any more of those sweets.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Yeosang takes out a pen and notepad and starts scribbling something on it. You watch him with mild interest and when he tears the page and hands it to you, you realise with horror that it’s his order. “While you’re at it, get us something too.”

“You get them,” you tuck the paper into San’s pocket. “Or Wooyoung does. I’m not the slave here.”

San chuckles and opens the door for you and you take a moment to breathe in with your hands on your hips as if finally free from prison. The boys station themselves outside the toilets while you freshen up and you take your sweet, sweet time, spending too long in front of the mirror. However, when you step out and find them unfazed, you realise that you should up your game.

It is recess time and it’s crowded. You could easily make a run for it. Before you can take that defiant step forwards, San and Yunho both link their arms with yours and you gape at them in disbelief.

“Not so quick, Missy,” Yunho teases. “I could practically smell the scheming.”

You make a face at him and let them steer you to the cafeteria. On the way, you try again. “50 bucks each. Let me go.”

“Try again,” San says.

“70. I don’t have any more.”

“That’s your loss,” he pats your head and you barely contain an animalistic growl. When you reach the cafeteria, though, they let you go.

Yunho gives you a warning look, reminding you that they’re trusting you for now. “Let’s divide and conquer. You grab the snacks. We’ll get the trays. Let’s have a meal before we go back.”

That is a tempting offer. The cafeteria meal here isn’t bad at all.

The three of you split and you go to the other end to grab some drinks and snacks with the money the boys gave you. You struggle to carry everything and drop a packet of chips but someone is kind enough to pick it for you–

Of course it’s Nabi.

You suddenly get why Seonghwa dislikes her. She really does watch and hover.

“Are you sure you can eat that much?” She teases but you let her help you. You spot San at the far end of the room, waiting for you and Yunho.

“Uh, these are obviously not for me. Not all of them.”

“Oh, have you made some friends then?” She asks coyly. “I didn’t see you in class today.”

At that moment, you dislike her perhaps as much as Wooyoung does. Her voice is annoying, her acting is bad. She’s pretending too hard to be nice.

You also let the little things that she does get to you. The ones you were previously consciously ignoring. The way she pokes her things against your back during class and claims she did it by mistake. The way she accidentally kicks your chair far too often, especially when it’s clear that you’re about to doze off.

“Why, yes, I have,” you return her smile and she looks surprised. “Can you help me get these to them?”

“Of course,” she frowns. “I didn’t realise you had any friends.”

“Oh, it happened too suddenly,” you say and when you navigate closer to where San and Yunho are both sitting now, her steps grow hesitant.

San and Yunho frown at the sight of Nabi accompanying you and they almost think that you have betrayed them. However, you loudly say, “These are my new friends. She was just wondering who I’m carrying so many snacks for.”

“You guys came to school today? All of you?” She asked, suspicious eyes flickering among the three of you. “Where have you been?”

“Narnia,” Yunho says and San smiles, not offering anything else to Nabi. She shoots you a glare and drops the snacks on the table, pivots on her heels and leaves. You curb a smile and glance over at the duo who look far too proud of you.

“What?” You ask with a short laugh as you dig into the meal. They don’t say much, just give you one of their chicken croquettes each as a token of gratitude and you laugh in disbelief, shaking your head. “That’s it? That’s how easy it is to win over you guys?”

“Do you know what influence Nabi has?” San reminded you. “The queen bee of this school. No one does what you just did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you say with a pout. “I just told her you guys are my friends.”

“What she heard was that you have been skipping classes with Seonghwa,” Yunho explained. “She’s gonna be so mad. She might even report us to the teachers, in which case, get ready for a punishment tomorrow, y/n.”

“No way,” you scoffed. “That’s… petty.”

The boys don’t need to remind you to go back with them to their hideout. You naturally walk with them, learning more about this school and its ‘power hierarchy’ from the duo. Before you know it, you are back to the hideout and spilling the tea to the rest who appreciate your bold move and thank you for bringing these snacks for them.

In the midst of conversation, fun banters and games, you find yourself wondering why you were ever hostile towards them or apprehensive of the idea that you could still make friends here. Granted, you are not sure if you are ready to be a part of their group and be associated with them, or be called a friend by them, but…

You do not mind this one bit.

Sitting around the table with them, having dragged it near the lone sofa for more space, eight pairs of eyes follow the path of the guava-flavoured candy which San tosses into the air for you. You almost miss but are quick to catch it in your mouth and the room fills with the echoes of your laughter, friendly banter ensuing when the boys quarrel about who is a better shot. You take your turn and you are cheered on, and it almost feels like you’re with a group of childhood friends. It almost feels like these are your people and that you are never meant to be separated from them.

Going back to class is forgotten. The whole fiasco about switching back to your original seat is also long forgotten. You simply have fun for the first time in a while. You look up at the ceiling when you laugh, finding butterflies painted all over them and you briefly think that this group of friends is as free and joyful as butterflies.

“Ayo, sunbae!”

Wooyoung calls and the poor girl who was obviously hiding with her friends from the rest of the school to sneak in a smoke curses under her breath and drops the cigarette, crushing it under her shoe. She rolls her eyes once, hard, before plastering what looks like a genuine smile.

“Wooyoung! My favourite junior,” she spreads her arms and Wooyoung shares a rather manly hug with the senior, bumping fists with the other girl and the boys. He either has not noticed the cigarette or is purposely ignoring it, but at the same time, you appreciate how the senior hid the cigarette– or maybe it was because of the foreign presence (you).

You watch the interaction with mild curiosity and one of the boys poke you in the back, propelling you forwards. The senior regards you with interest and scans you slowly before turning to Wooyoung with a questioning look.

“This,” he says with his hand extended towards you and you are once again gently pushed in front of Wooyoung, “is y/n. The latest addition to the group.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes, asserting that you still don’t consider yourself a part of their tightly-knit group, but Wooyoung and the rest aren’t having any of it. The senior, however, catches that.

“Are you being bullied by them?” She asks. “Blink twice if you need help.”

You blink thrice.

“Come sit,” she says, patting the space next to her and you gladly accept. You tell her that you like her hair very much and she smiles. The red highlights in her hair really accentuate her edgy appearance.

“If any one of these hooligans bother you, you come to me,” she says and extends her hand. You shake it. “The name’s Yuna.”

“Hooligans?” This time, San beats Wooyoung in squaring up against the seniors but one glare from the girls humbles him right up. He shrugs all too casually, scratching the back of his neck with the pout on his mouth deepening with each passing second. “I’m not a bad guy.”

“Did you forget the time you almost made Inhyuk sunbaenim cry?”

Bewildered, you look at Yuna and then at San who looks anything but the hooligan Yuna claims that he is. If Yuna is referring to this Inhyuk dude as her senior, he must have been at least two years San’s senior. And he… almost made him cry?

You reckon that Hongjoong notices the temptation in your eyes– the temptation to ask for an explanation. He fixes his glasses rather proudly, smacking San’s back to remind him to straighten his shoulders.

“He has got nothing to be sorry about,” Hongjoong claims.

“Inhyuk sunbaenim was a bully, so we got our small-eyed duo to knock some sense into him.”

You don’t know why but your gaze shifts to Mingi and he looks betrayed. He smacks his foot on the ground as he calls you out and you raise your hands in surrender while the rest burst out in laughter.

“We keep them to intimidate bullies,” Yuna explains. “Them with me and Hyorin over there,” she points at her classmate, a tall girl with too many piercings. You wonder how the school allows that. “We’re the guards of sorts.”

“They don’t seem like the type to win in a fight, though,” you point at San and Mingi.

“They’re not,” Yuna laughs. “Jongho and Yeosang step in during the real fights.”

Jongho, you get. But Yeosang comes as a surprise and he grins shyly, further proving your point. There is no way he possesses the ability to harm a living, breathing thing.

“Anyways,” Yuna drapes her arm around your shoulder and you curb a grin. “I hope these boys have been treating you well. It’s good to hear that you’re a part of our group now, but let me know if you want out. I know these shitheads can be clingy.”

“Yeah, or if you’re a weird one, let us know in advance,” one of the senior boys says.

“We don’t want another Nabi on our asses,” the other boy quips and you narrow your eyes, watching your boys shift with unease.

“Intak and Channie never know when to shut up,” Yuna complains.

“What happened with Nabi?” You ask and Yuna looks back and forth between you and the boys.

“So they told you the mild version of it, huh?” She laughs. “Not my story to tell, but she’s a real piece of work.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised that after Nabi, they’re open to having a girl in their group,” Intak says and Hyorin agrees. “I think they’re friends with our girls because they don’t consider them… as girls, if I’m honest–”

“Hey!” Hyorin takes off her slipper and chucks it at Intak. Chan shrugs, point proven.

“That’s not true!” Yeosang argues. “Jongho still has a crush on–”

“Oh, look,” Jongho points at the distance. It must be divine intervention that the devil you were just thinking about is seen walking with her friends towards the basketball court. Thus Jongho succeeds in distracting everyone. Nabi– the divine devil in question– does not notice the group of you. You hear a muffled scream and follow Jongho’s gaze.

Yep. He most definitely has a crush on Yuna.

“One day when I’m no longer bound by the school rules,” Yuna begins, cracking her knuckles. “I’ll have a good conversation with Nabi. Girl to girl.”

She clenches her jaw as silence ensues with the weight of her threat hanging in the air. However, Yuna soon breaks out into a smile when she turns her attention to you.

“Got any questions? Anything you’d like to know? I’ve got everything– secrets and dirt on everyone.”

“You don’t want her as your enemy,” Wooyoung concludes and then grabs your hand and pulls you towards him. “Let’s go. I just wanted to introduce you so she can keep an eye out for you.”

“Okay, firstly,” you begin, “I can take care of myself–”

“Ooh.”

“Damn.”

“Tell him.”

You give the seniors a side-eye and continue. “Secondly, I think eight sets of eyes ‘looking out for me’ are enough. Why do you think I’ll ever get in trouble when you guys never leave me alone?”

“Give her some space, boys,” Yuna pleads in your case. “Let her breathe.”

Wooyoung grunts in disappointment but reluctantly lets go of your hand. You scoff but he seems too tired to match your energy and you wonder if he took it to heart.

You soon learn that their idea of giving space to you seems to differ from yours by a whole lot. They have definitely taken it to heart– at least some of them.

You can’t tell if they’re doing it on purpose, but Wooyoung is not bothering you every minute of the day, and it’s bothering you now. When you find yourself worrying about this, you smack your head. Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place?

But he hardly acknowledges you anymore. When something funny happens in the class, he no longer looks at you though you find yourself looking at him. Jongho is not very talkative either. The rest are just the same but still a bit… distant.

You’re positive that they’ve misunderstood you, and you find yourself sitting in the secret hideout alone, bunking one of the lessons to just rethink your friendship with them again. Nabi sure seems to be making the most out of your misery, if it can be called a misery in the first place.

“Trouble in paradise?” She asked one day. You just made a face at her and luckily, Hongjoong called you over at the same time. At least Nabi didn’t get the satisfaction of rubbing it in your face.

You are also a bit curious about what happened with Nabi. You even debate asking her– why is she so obsessed with this group?

You’ve heard enough rumours now. Since you’ve adjusted to the class in the past couple of months, the girls talk sometimes. You’ve heard about how Nabi, Seonghwa, Yunho and Hongjoong used to have a study group but something happened after which they broke their friendship with Nabi. That something probably has to do with Seonghwa, you reckon, but you can’t probe since it seems to be a sensitive topic.

You don’t know exactly how long you spend spacing out in the room, but nobody joins you. You wonder if it’s just that the excitement of being friends has died down, but you kind of miss everybody. School doesn’t feel like fun anymore. It’s only been a few days, but everything has started to feel different. You can’t focus on your studies properly– or anything, for that matter.

While you think about what went wrong and what you can fix– if there’s any fixing to be done in the first place– you play with the softball, chucking it in the makeshift net and missing. You try again and again, but you only manage to make a successful shot a handful of times. One time, the ball misses and hits a frame on the shelf and you flinch, wondering if you broke something.

Upon inspecting, it is a group photo that seems to have been captured in a photobooth. The eight of them are squished against each other and you can barely see Jongho and Yeosang but they seem so happy and carefree there. You don’t realise how big of a smile you’re sporting until you catch your reflection in the frame and your smile drops.

You want to be a part of this. If they’ve taken the first step towards you– no, if they’ve taken so many steps towards you, it is ungrateful of you to keep walking away from them.

Adamant to make amends of sorts, you go to the canteen and get eight packs of bread and eight packs of flavoured milk for the boys. You know exactly the kind of bread they like and the flavour of milk that they like– each one of them. You go to class and place a pack of bread and milk on their tables– they must be getting changed for gym. Nabi eyes you with curiosity but you don’t pay much heed to her, although you ask her if she’s hungry. She only grunts in response and you stifle a smile.

When the boys return, they hesitate in their tracks. Some of them thank you and open up their snacks. Wooyoung doesn’t really regard the treats and you fold your arms.

“Are you angry with me?”

He meets eyes with you for the first time in a while. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well…” you shrug in mild discomfort. “You’re not… talkative anymore. Not with me.”

Wooyoung suppresses a smile and rests his head on his hand rather cockily. “Do you miss me?”

You scoff in disbelief but seven expectant pairs of eyes are fixed on you and you fidget nervously. “I mean… yeah? I do. What about it? Can we just go back to normal?”

Wooyoung thinks for a good few moments. He nods, and to your horror, the rest of the boys– all seven of them– produce cash out of their pockets and set it on Wooyoung’s desk. Wooyoung counts the cash and tucks it safely in his pocket and then looks at you with the most shit-eating smirk you’ve ever seen on a human.

“Got you.”

“Jung Wooyoung!”

While he laughs loud and proud, you snatch the snacks from the table and make a dash for the door, Wooyoung right on your heel as he yells at you to come back. Your laughs and screams echo in the corridor and you can make out the rest of the boys following the two of you, just to witness the scene. You hop down the stairs with caution though you are screaming all the way, and that’s where Wooyoung manages to successfully tackle you and you barely avoid an accident, making it down safely with his arms around your waist and your legs swinging in the air.

“Let. Me. Down!” You laugh loudly and he swings you in circles until you feel dizzy, though you can’t stop laughing.

“That’s what you get for asking for some space!” Wooyoung says as he sets you down. “Tell me if you still want some space and I’ll gladly leave you alone.”

“I can’t believe you guys bet on this!” You retort, clutching your sides that are currently hurting from laughing too much. “What was the deal?”

“Wooyoung was sure he was going to break you within 3 days,” Jongho explains. “We were sure you could manage 5, but clearly we were wrong.”

You pout. “I thought you guys were cross with me. For real.”

“Come on, weren’t we acting normal?” Yunho asks. “We wanted to win the bet. I thought we were the same.”

“No, but it didn’t feel the same without Wooyoung, I guess…” you scratch the back of your neck.

“You love me. I know,” Wooyoung spreads his arms to bring you into a hug but you ignore him, taking refuge behind Seonghwa who claims that he told Wooyoung to tone it down a little.

“My turn to be angry with you,” you promise Wooyoung. “Let’s see how long you last.”

“No time for that,” he shakes his head. “The basketball practice games start next week and we’re competing against our rival team in two months’ time. We need to cheer for them.”

That piques your interest. You learn that the regional competition is taking place soon and the KQ Stallions are aiming for the first spot. Unsurprisingly, your school’s team is very good and almost always makes it to the top 3, though they haven’t earned the 1st position just yet.

Mingi and Wooyoung ask you to join them in cheering for their team and you find that it is not something casual– they are very serious about cheerleading. They have good reasons to be, for San and Jongho are playing in the team this year. Yunho is the substitute which means that he has to be on standby.

The princesses of the group choreograph your cheers to perfection. It is a sport in itself, but you quite enjoy it, especially since the cheerleading group has grown much bigger by the day with more students joining you, and Mingi and Wooyoung are already making plans on how to up their cheerleading strategies when the KQ Stallions advance to the finals.

When, and not if, and you love that confidence.

For the next few weeks, you settle into a routine with the boys– if it can be called that. Every morning, a few of them catch you by the gates and you make your way to class together. There are no longer any bets or formality between you and the boys. Slowly but surely, they have opened your heart to them and once again, you find yourself with friends that might just last for life.

Although, you think of those words with caution. Your childhood friends didn’t last. You sometimes wonder if it was a shame to leave things on a bitter note with your friends from your previous school. The timing of how you had to move because of your parents with what happened at school was an unlucky coincidence. But thanks to Wooyoung especially, you are once again willing to try the idea of friendship.

Your hideout now has a beaded curtain that you had hung with the help of Hongjoong– something from your previous home that you no longer needed. Hongjoong and Yeosang sometimes add some shiny ornaments that they bring from home on the strings of the curtain and the sunlight reflects beautifully on them, creating a kaleidoscopic effect at times.

You and Mingi rather enjoy sitting under the curtains with your comic books while Hongjoong naps with his head on Mingi’s lap since Mingi hogs the lone pillow. Seonghwa moderates the basketball boys who practise with balls of different sizes in the hideout. They manage to practise passing and dribbling in this small space. Yeosang becomes the damage control or the human shield, making sure the ball doesn’t somehow manage to hit Hongjoong square in the face. Something tells you it has happened quite a few times and there is a reason Yeosang so willingly guards the slumbering beast.

Sometimes, after school if you are all free and there is no practice, you make a trip to the convenience store and the chefs, Wooyoung and Seonghwa, make a variety of ramens with whatever ingredients they can find. You join the tables outside to make a big dinner table and spread the goods on it. Ramen after school tastes better for some reason. The convenience store part-timer is an old lady who adores Wooyoung so she lets you be and you think she enjoys watching you guys having fun, though every now and then she warns you to keep it down.

The boys may be all fun and games but they take their studies very seriously, all of them. Most of the time, they study on their own when they go home but sometimes, you all gather at someone’s house to prepare for exams and you find that there is a reason the boys are the way they are. They all grew up with loving parents who think of their child’s friends as their own.

One time, you muster the courage and invite the boys to your place to study. It is not that part which requires your courage, but admitting to your parents that you have made friends.

Your mother regards you with worry. “Are you sure? We don’t want you depressed again, unable to focus after what happened last time.”

Last time. When one of your old friends created a rift in your group and made you all break up, all because of her insecurities because she felt ‘left out’. You later realised that she just wanted you out because she did not like how you managed to be the ‘centre of attention’ everywhere.

Was it your fault that you made an effort to involve everyone? Did that make you an attention-seeker? Was this what you deserved after making sure your odd group of five friends lasted forever? You never realised how much venom that friend had in her heart. After she made up a story about you spilling your friends’ secrets to another group in your class and none of your friends believed you, you distanced yourself. If that was the trust they had in you, then you were fine by yourself.

However, the sudden change took a toll on you. Your grades fell considerably and with your father’s sudden job relocation, you came to terms with the fact that this is how your childhood ends.

But when you nod to your mother with hopeful eyes, she breaks out into a smile and tells you that she hopes that your friends this time are nice. You promise that they are. When she learns that it’s a group of eight boys, she bursts into laughter and shakes her head.

“They better be treating you like a princess.”

“Don’t worry, mom. They treat me like a queen.”

Your mother sees that. The boys arrive dressed more neatly than usual, appearing well-kempt. Wooyoung, ever the charmer, has a bouquet of flowers for your mother. The rest of the boys have pitched in to buy some fruits. Your mother fusses over them and learns their names and thanks them. She cooks up a feast while you study in the living room, the study-group trio leading everyone.

You find that it saves time to study with them– each one of them is good at one thing or the other. Jongho has a knack for predicting the content of the exams, and he swears that he isn’t a spy. He just assesses patterns, he claims. Yeosang and Hongjoong are good at maths. Seonghwa is good at making notes. Yunho is an all-rounder but San excels in English. You excel in Korean and History, while Wooyoung and Mingi are good at the science subjects. Together, you help each other with ease and the group study sessions pass in a breeze.

Your first exams go well. You manage to maintain the good grades from your previous school, and notice how you score better in subjects you were formerly weak in. That is one box checked from your mental list.

The other box is the first basketball game, and you’re more worried about it than you thought you would be. Perhaps, it is because you are so roped in with the boys now that it starts to feel like your team and your victory or defeat. You start to feel like a coach yourself, fretting over the basketball trio just like the rest, showering them in treats and cool, refreshing drinks. Anything to make sure that they are in top condition.

However, the trio seems to take advantage of your kindness.

One day, you find yourself on the school field, a lone warrior standing with no one to defend herself. Your heart is thumping at an erratic pace. Sweat pools from every crevice and you want to move but you remain frozen in your spot for the fear of your life. Every instinct tells you to move but you cannot. You are not allowed to.

There is a beer glass perched on the top of your head, upside down. The basketball trio is taking turns practising their aim with an actual basketball. Not one of the soft balls or bouncy balls back in the hideout, no. They want to practise with the real thing, and because you lost in rock, paper, scissors, you have to be the sacrificial lamb for the day.

They might as well tie you to the tree with an apple on top of your head and practise their shooting skills.

“San– stop!” You can’t help but scream as the ball flies closer and you shut your eyes. Each time they manage to hit the beer glass successfully, you sigh in relief and almost collapse to your knees. The trio celebrates while the others either laugh, enjoying this a bit too much, or move around anxiously because fear someone might actually hit you square in the face.

“Can’t I turn around?” You plead your case again and turn to Seonghwa who seems to be the only one actually worried. The rest are too busy betting on who will break your nose today. The basketball trio keeps telling you to have some trust in their skills but they’re not the ones standing with the beer glass on top of their head.

“Brain damage,” Wooyoung counters, “is worse than a broken nose.”

“Well then, why don’t you stand in my place, huh?” You offer. The boys laugh harder when you tap your temple aggressively. “Since it’s stuffed with hay up here.”

“I’m not the one who lost the game, sweetheart,” he smirks devilishly. “Come on. 3 shots left. You can make out of this alive. Have some trust in them. They’ve got killer aims.”

“Killer aim…” you repeat. “Killing which target?”

“We’re not that bad, and you know it,” Yunho says as he orders you to stand straight and not move. Apparently, moving out of reflex might make them lose their aim. You believe that Yunho probably has the least chances of missing his target since he’s so tall that he can probably see the back of your head as well.

You accept your fate and shut your eyes, willing yourself to not pee in your pants. Just like that, Yunho plays his last shot and successfully hits the beer glass which falls with a dramatic clack. As the boys cheer, you almost sink to your knees. Yunho pats you in encouragement but you scowl at him, promising revenge.

“Just so you know, I’m the best shot,” Jongho says as he takes his position in front of you a good 6 feet away. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s San you should be scared of– he sometimes tends to let his emotions control his aim.”

“But I’m feeling good today,” San counters. “I haven’t missed a shot. You missed one.”

“She moved,” Jongho reminds him.

“This cocky attitude of yours is going to get to you one day,” You promise Jongho.

“Let’s hope that day is not today,” Jongho says and chucks the ball in your direction without warning.

You seem to have jinxed yourself. This time, you hardly have any time to shut your eyes before you feel the ball collide with your face.

There is a moment of silence. A blissful moment of no sensations before you feel something wet on your lips and you curl inwards, clutching your nose. Hot, burning pain is all you feel for a good few moments, apart from the ringing in your ears.

“Oh, my god… are you okay?” Jongho is also the first one to approach you. The rest are too busy gasping and clutching their heads in disbelief.

“What do you think–”

“Choi Jongho!”

It is not one of the boy's voices you hear. It is Yuna, your senior and your saviour, who calls his name like it’s her last rite.

“I can explain–” Jongho barely has time to say before he’s running for his life with Yuna and the rest of her friends out for him, each holding one of their shoes in their hands, ready to deliver a beating. You chuckle at the scene but groan in pain.

It is Yunho who gently moves your hands away from your nose to inspect the injury. He sighs in relief and that is how you know your nose is not broken. With a handkerchief, he pinches your nose to stop the bleeding. You try to move out of his grasp because of the pain but he holds you close and smiles apologetically.

“I’ve got you. Just stay still.”

This close, you can make out the flecks of brown in his eyes. You wriggle a bit but feel someone hold you in place from behind.

“That’s what you’ve been telling her for the last half an hour.”

It is Seonghwa. He tucks your hair away, not minding how sweaty your forehead is. You pass a weak smile and when Yunho pulls away, Seonghwa cleans the blood off your upper lips with his sleeve.

In that moment, you forget that these boys are the same people who led you to the altar that got you the bleeding nose in the first place. Wooyoung arrives to your rescue next with a bottle of water and Yeosang has ice in another thermos that he always carries with him.

Now you know why.

“You guys,” you chuckle in disbelief, especially when you spot Jongho still running for his life and the seniors livid. “You’re all insufferable.”

They share grins and help you get up. Thankfully, your nose doesn’t feel as bad as before, especially with the ice but Yeosang still suggests a trip to the nurse's office. You move to the water stands, wanting to wash your face and the boys follow you closely, promising to teach Jongho a lesson.

When you are done washing your face, Jongho arrives with an apologetic look and his hair sticking out in different directions, probably from whatever Yuna and Hyorin did to him (nothing much, you’re sure). He is out of breath, his cheeks flushed from running so much but he still can’t contain his smile.

“Come on, best shot,” you tease. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, giggling like a 5 year old who just learnt a bad joke.

“Do better,” you say dismissively, washing your arms.

“I’m genuinely sorry,” he tries again and you regard him. He purses his lips and looks down. “It’s just… your nose is swollen and it looks funny–”

That is it. The last straw. You turn the tap full and block it with your hand before anyone can react. Jongho gets sprayed with a sharp stream of water and when you stop, he looks at you in disbelief with water dripping from his hair and face.

“Again!” Wooyoung announces and the boys scramble to grab Jongho and keep him in place and this time, Hongjoong and Seonghwa help you with the taps. While Jongho screams in defiance, your laughter fills the air–

Until Seonghwa’s spray hits your back.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Get him!” Hongjoong says the battle call.

The seniors watch from a distance as the 9 of you spray each other with water. Jongho has definitely gotten the worst of it, drenched from head to toes. Whenever someone sprays you with water, the seniors yell their name in warning. If you weren’t wearing black gymwear, the seniors would have buried the boys alive by now.

All pain is forgotten as you splash each other with water. Someone tackles you in a hug and steers you in the direction of the jet stream one of the boys produces from the tap. Someone shields you with their body in a chivalrous manner. All that matters is that you are laughing like there is no care in the world.

The day of the basketball game against the rival team arrives. The victory of this match will lead to the KQ Stallions’ qualification to the regionals.

The school is in a different state today– the floors are polished, the teachers are enthusiastic and the students are feeling energised. The colours of the KQ Stallions are everywhere. By the time school comes to an end, almost everyone has something red on them– paint on their faces, polish on their nails, ribbon in their hair or a red flag with black stripes in their hand.

Hongjoong has taken it upon himself to make sure the cheerleaders match. You wait for your turn and when you stand in front of him, the both of you grin widely. You catch some dried paint on his hair from the sunlight that pours on him through the window of the classroom and you brush it off while he dips his brush in the paint.

“Excited?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I’m positive I’ll crash from adrenaline overload before the game even starts,” you tell him. He nods, pointedly looking at the way you’re almost bouncing on your legs.

“Stay still,” he instructs and you mutter a ‘yessir’. He gently grabs you by the chin and tilts your face to the left to paint a red stripe across your cheek. He tilts it to the right and does the same, focused.

Then he switches his brush for the black paint and you notice how his hand is still cradling your chin. You also notice how close you are– when he paints the black stripes, you think that you can feel his breath caress your cheeks.

And if that’s not enough, he blows on the paint. Just for you. He didn’t do it for anyone else, you notice. He also tucks the strands of your hair back so they don’t catch in the wet paint.

You stand doe-eyed and for the first time, your heart flutters. You don’t know if he notices, but when he’s done, he pats your shoulder and asks you to find Seonghwa, who he says must be hiding somewhere, shirking his duties. He was supposed to be helping him.

You’re still making sense of this weird feeling in your chest when you take a turn in the corridor and you almost crash into someone. That someone is none other than Seonghwa who reflexively grabs your wrists and steadies you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says and leans closer to inspect the paint on your cheeks. This close, you can see the twinkle in his eyes and the flutter in your heart intensifies. You subconsciously pull away from him.

“Hongjoong did a good job,” he grins. “Did he ask you to find me?”

“Uh, yeah,” you manage to say, mouth suddenly dry. “He thinks you’re hiding.”

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa laughs. “Went to stretch my back. You want one?”

He offers you candies and you take the strawberry one. He takes the orange. You unwrap it and pop it in your mouth, focusing on the taste. You listen to him talk about something but you’re too busy processing what just happened, and when Yeosang joins you, you’re glad for the distraction.

Once it’s time, you all head to the basketball court. You don’t get to meet the basketball trio up close as they are being lectured by their coach, but you catch Jongho’s attention and yell ‘break a nose!’ to which he shakes his head in amusement. San and Yunho glance over in your direction and you all send finger hearts to the trio.

You find your spot in the middle of Wooyoung and Yeosang, and Mingi breaks down the moves once again to everyone present before taking his spot in front of you. He stands at the lowest row of the bleachers, the three of you on the upper row, and then the rest behind you, increasing in numbers as the rows ascend.

The basketball trio look incredibly handsome in their black tank and shorts, a red stallion embroidered on the front with their names and number on the back. They stand in front of the rival team gritting their teeth in determination and you watch with wonder how their demeanour changes. Yunho has a private moment with Jongho and San where it looks like he is giving some last instructions, and then he breaks into a smile and wishes them luck, sharing a group hug. It warms your heart infinitely and as soon as the players take position, Mingi raises his hand and you clutch the glittery black and red poms tightly and wait.

The game begins. As per Mingi’s cues, you cheer with your soul and your heart, and pause to inspect the game when he signals you to stop. Each time the KQ stallions score, you have to physically stop yourself from simply jumping up and down out of joy and stick to the choreography. However, Seonghwa and Hongjoong rub your shoulders as they share your excitement. Wooyoung and Yeosang share your enthusiasm. Mingi smiles brightly and gains strength when he looks back at his friends.

The game grows tense. The first quarter ends with KQ in the lead. All of you cheer for your team while the rivals gather around to revise their strategies. Your team toasts over water bottles and you can tell that they’re excited to be leading. The coach tells them to keep their heads in the game.

The second quarter is twice as intense. The rival team seems to have taken an aggressive stance and they make no mistakes in scoring or defending their basket. The KQ Stallions try to keep up and they do a pretty good job. The cheerleaders make sure that their excitement doesn’t die down and that your team gains some energy from your cheers. However, this time the KQ Stallions trail by a few points.

All is good. They just need to do better in the third quarter.

The third quarter is packed with nervous energy. While the first few minutes are uneventful, one of the defenders from the rival team tackles the freshman player in your team, resulting in a foul. The defender looks smug even after the warning and Yeosang tells you why.

The freshman in your team is a key scorer. If he is not able to play in full health, the team gets affected. Yunho might end up substituting in that case but it would definitely affect the morale of the team.

You’re filled with rage after hearing that, but it seems like you are not the only one. The seniors– specifically your group of friends– are unfiltered with their curses. The cheers have died down and you are all instead focusing on the game, tracking each and every move.

You don’t miss how they’re trying to take Jongho out. He is a versatile player who can defend well and shoot better (if you forget about the broken nose incident). Jongho seems to have an idea of their strategy and he focuses more on protecting himself than the ball.

The third quarter ends with a score of 56-57 with the rival team in the lead. Tension peaks and the air feels electric. Before the fourth quarter begins, both the teams take timeouts to adjust their strategies. Yunho ends up substituting for the freshman after all, who seems to have a sore ankle. It’s not good for the team for him to keep playing.

The fourth quarter begins with an ominous ring of the whistle. After a few minutes of dribbling, passing and failed shots, your trio of friends exchange signals and try to coordinate another shot. They work neatly, a bit sneakily but in full synchronisation. It’s almost like they are tuned to each other’s thoughts.

The way San throws the basketball into the hoop is nothing short of incredible and KQ finally leads by 3 points. The room bursts into a chorus of cheers and you mechanically perform the practised moves.

While the rest celebrate the lead, you are more focused on how the rival team reacts to this turn of events. They have a strong defence and with Yunho managing to find a weakness and helping coordinate a shot, you wonder if the rivals will end up making more dirty moves. You definitely smell scheming with the way they get aggressive in their actions.

As if Wooyoung has heard your thoughts, he comments, “They’re sneaky bastards but they don’t know what’s coming for them.”

The tension grows with each passing minute. With just three minutes left and a difference of 2 points, the cheerleaders have stopped cheering altogether and are watching the game with sharp eyes, following the basketball. The hall echoes with joyous shouts and groans and you don’t know when it happened, but the three of you are almost clutching at each other at the last minute.

“Oh, they’re doing it,” Yeosang notices and you look at him in confusion. “Follow Yunho. You’ll see.”

You do exactly that. Yunho passes the ball to San and San dodges the players with expertise. He is leading them to your own basket and you wonder if he’s doing the right thing, but then you notice two things–

Jongho and Yunho are straying away from the rest towards the rival’s basket which is mostly defenceless right now. With only seconds left, it looks like the rival players are leaving their posts and already preparing for a celebration.

San, however, jumps and throws the ball in Yunho’s direction. He is pulled down by a player but the ball manages to reach Yunho and panic ensues. Yunho is surrounded before he can make a goal and he throws the ball to Jongho who switches to offence and takes a risk, making a long shot at the hoop.

It’s like time slows down as everyone sucks in their breaths, anticipating whether the ball will make it into the hoop or not. Your heart sinks dangerously as the ball hits the edge and Yeosang shuts his eyes close. Wooyoung is shaking your arm in a nervous fit.

Silence ensues.

The ball hits the floor. The score changes. The timer rings.

The KQ Stallions have won the game. Jongho has managed to score.

“Oh my god,” you breathe and Yeosang finally looks at the scoreboard. “Oh my god!”

Cheerleading is forgotten and the whole team jumps up and down and you’re swallowed in group hugs. You all are screaming out of ecstasy and you feel like you could cry out of sheer joy. You can hardly contain yourselves as you wait for the KQ Stallions to stop their own celebration and finish the formalities. As soon as they’re done shaking hands with the rival teams who look thoroughly annoyed, your friends look in your direction and they run.

You all rush towards the stairs that lead down to the court and you follow Wooyoung and Yeosang who lead you with their hands in yours, making sure you’re not left behind. You can’t breathe but you’re the happiest. Mingi crushes Yunho in a hug before sharing him with the rest of you. San brings the three of you in a hug and then Jongho joins and you all take turns ruffling his hair and smothering him in affection, once again cracking jokes about how he’s a good shot but managed to break your nose anyway.

The nine of you form a circle and as you hop around, it feels like it’s a little bubble. You have created your own world, your own space, and here, it’s just happiness and excitement. Nothing can hurt you. No one can take you down. The boys squeeze in some silly dance moves and you suddenly think of the butterflies painted in your hideout room.

There used to be eight of them but now there’s another painted on the roof. You don’t know when Hongjoong painted that, but now you know what he intended.

It feels like you’re a butterfly just like them– free and happy.

Junior year passes by in a breeze.

While the KQ Stallions didn't win the regionals, their achievement of making it to the regionals is an accomplishment in itself. The boys still play basketball with as much enthusiasm, and the rest of you still cheer as if your lives depend on it.

With the passage of time, you have created a unique bond with each friend. Your dynamics have shifted with everyone but it’s still the same as the first day. Sometimes, you wonder if things between them changed– you feel like an impostor. However, they assure you that your presence has changed nothing, yet, changed everything in a good way.

You don’t know how you feel about that, but you suppose it’s nice to know how they feel about you.

Yuna had somehow learned about your hideout room and the group of four started to treat the room as their own. At first, Wooyoung and Hongjoong had protested but they had been bribed with an offer to try Yuna’s extensive collection of flavoured cigarettes. They had hesitated at first but eventually agreed to try, ignoring Seonghwa’s warnings about the dangers of smoking. You had watched with curiosity as they tried a strawberry and peach flavoured smoke and then clutched at your stomach that hurt from laughing too much when they incessantly coughed and almost threw up.

Nevertheless, they ‘allow’ Yuna and her gang to share the room (as if they had a choice in the first place). Perhaps, because it’s their senior year and they’ll miss them next year. The girls take care of you– Yuna teaches you a few things about nonchalance and dominance (you need that as the lone girl in the group of eight boys), and Hyorin teaches you all the feminine stuff.

At first, the boys cringe and only Seonghwa joins Hyorin as they style your hair or do makeup on you (where Jongho joins too– apparently, he has a knack for makeup) but then one day, San comes prepared. He shows Hyorin something new that he learned from his sister– an eyeliner hack that he tries on you.

Impressed, Yuna and Hyorin take turns having him apply their eyeliner. Seonghwa takes the seat next and the room bursts into appreciative laughter as San applies eyeliner on Seonghwa too. Wooyoung finally gives in and because the eyeliner looks so good on him, the girls fawn over him and apply some eyeshadow as well. He complains for a few moments but when he takes a look in the mirror, he caves in and can’t put the mirror down.

Thus, you juniors warm up to the presence of the seniors in your hideout, which isn’t a common occasion but welcomed now. You have snack parties and the boys who have a knack for cooking share tips and sometimes collectively bake treats for you. It is a stark difference from the first time you found yourself in this room, being bribed by treats. It feels like home now.

During the holidays, the whole lot of you make trips to the amusement park and the aquarium. One time, you go to watch a horror movie at the cinema where you learn that only Yunho and Jongho seem to possess the stamina to sit through a horror movie. You keep creating wonderful memories with your friends. The seniors don’t always join you, occupied with preparing for college but it’s fun either way.

At school, your homeroom teacher Miss Ji grows fond of your group. It looks like the boys are behaving this time so they’ll be in the same class in senior year too. You pray with your whole heart that senior year will be just like this. Nabi, however, stays salty with you. She doesn’t bother you very much anymore, but it’s clear that she still has a strong dislike for you.

You don’t care. The boys protect you fiercely, but even if they didn’t, you can stand on your own now. You have learned your lesson from your previous school. You know how to stand up for yourself.

You have to learn to stand up for yourself because the boys take any and every chance to prank someone and then point fingers at another. It is a joke, of course, but it has strengthened your debating skills and survival skills. It turns into a warzone pretty quickly with them, but in the end, it’s all fun and games.

It’s all fun and games. From racing each other to the cafeteria or earning punishment for the whole group during gym where the teacher makes all of you run extra laps. Cooling off under the shade and having water splashed on you which turns into a water fight. A protective throw of someone’s jacket onto you to cover yourself as the boys flush because they forgot that you are a girl. You flush deeper because you forgot that you are a girl too.

Then there are the trips to the convenience store during school as the nine of you sneak out, jumping over the walls. The twin towers of the group act as stepping stones for you to help you make it to the other side of the wall. Mingi usually does the throwing and Yunho catches you in his arms. His ears turn red and your cheeks flush without fail every time you make a run to the store. You both look at each other and laugh shyly.

Towards the end of the junior year, the nine of you go to the riverside one evening to have a dinner of ramen and take a break. Finals are approaching and the stress is palpable, so you sometimes make little trips like these to calm your nerves. The seniors couldn’t join you which is a shame but you know you’ll have fun either way.

After a hearty meal of ramen and kimbap, Hongjoong takes out a ukulele and Mingi, who sits next to you, turns a pot upside down and grabs some sticks from the trees, ready to play his makeshift drum. The boys start to sing their favourite songs and you join them, clapping in harmony. It’s a lovely moment and you can’t help but feel giddy. Yeosang and San couple dance in the middle and Wooyoung sings for them.

When you’re packing your belongings and preparing to go back, you catch Wooyoung who is zipping his bag.

“I didn’t realise you could sing so well,” you start and he smiles, pleased with himself.

“Why, thank you,” he grins.

“No, I mean it,” you say and he pauses to look at you. His voice is still echoing in your head, lulling you into a calm headspace. “You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s the truth.”

Wooyoung raises his brows. “You’ve told me to shut up so many times that I can’t believe what you’re saying.”

You laugh. “I mean your singing voice. Not yapping voice–”

He is quick to bring you in a chokehold and you tap on his arm to indicate that you surrender. He shifts his arm to bring you close and stares at you.

“You mean it?” He asks.

You look at him. His eyes are wide and eager with anticipation.

“I mean it. I need you to sing more and yap less.”

“Oh, you love it when I yap,” he says. You don’t deny it.

He kisses your temple. While it’s something that he does everyday, this time, he lingers and kisses your cheek too. You feel the onset of butterflies in your stomach and you can’t believe it.

Before you can process this moment, San joins you and welcomes you with a kiss to your cheek too. You almost groan but the way he looks at you with so much fondness melts your heart and you realise he isn’t teasing you. He’s just… being himself.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine. I told him he has a nice voice. Make sure it doesn’t get to his head,” you say and wring out of their grip, leaving them snickering. You take refuge behind Yeosang who, ever your protective friend, tucks you further behind him. It reminds you of the time you used to call Wooyoung the assailant. Jongho pokes you in the side and makes you fold over, the three of you running in circles to get each other.

Your laughter carries throughout the semester. Junior year comes to a beautiful conclusion and you part ways with the boys for the holidays. You share a teary-eyed farewell with the seniors and promise to stay in contact and meet up often. They assure you that they won’t leave you alone and that every now and then, you can expect them at the hideout. It sounds like a promise to you and a threat to the boys– the seniors warn them. Take care of our little sister.

Take care they do. While you don’t meet up for the first half of the holidays, all of you travelling around to meet your families, you do occasional meetups at cafes and arcades with anyone who is able to join. The group chat remains alive and it almost feels like you’ve never parted.

Senior year arrives. It is the first day of school, a year apart. Cherry blossoms fill the streets again, blooming in all their pastel pink glory, contrasting beautifully with the morning blue sky. The clouds look nothing short of cotton today, fluffy and full.

Just like last year, children are on their way to school and playing games on the streets again. They focus on stepping or avoiding the petals, challenging each other playfully. The old folk sit to bask in the scene. The students look nervous but the blossom shower seems to help soothe their souls.

And then there is your group of seniors. You’re all waiting at the designated intersection for Mingi and Yunho to arrive. While you wait, you’re all chatting among yourselves and catching up. San recounts a trip to his hometown to visit his grandparents. Wooyoung has far too many stories to share. Yeosang can apparently play the violin now and he is being assigned as the musician in your hideout now. Hongjoong and Seonghwa argue about their plans for college.

Jongho, who has dyed his hair red over the holidays, is wondering how he’ll get past the guard and the teachers. You tease him about how he’s definitely inspired by a certain senior he had a crush on. He no longer reacts when you mention it or tease him about his little crush over Yuna. It seems like he has gotten over it, or realised that it was more admiration than crush.

The twin towers arrive, waving enthusiastically from the distance. You all pretend to be mad since you waited a good 15 minutes for them, but when Mingi pulls the zipper of his bag to reveal snacks, you all decide to forgive and forget. The duo is welcomed warmly and you all start to walk towards the school.

“Oh, look at that,” Seonghwa points at a boy and a girl trying to catch the petals from the trees. They seem to be juniors. “They must have heard the saying about how catching a falling petal grants your wish or brings you luck.”

“Or makes you find your true love,” you say spontaneously and Seonghwa glances at you with a smile. You suddenly feel shy. “I think that’s the most common belief associated with catching falling petals.”

“Well, it’s not hard to catch them,” Seonghwa attempts to catch a petal but misses. “Perhaps, that is why the saying exists. So we believe that finding your true love isn’t a very hard thing.”

“So that we do not lose hope and believe in our luck,” you add and he agrees. “Is it supposed to be catching a petal at the same time as the other…?”

Seonghwa follows your gaze. The couple seems to believe that the petals have to be caught at the same time.

“Now that is hard,” Seonghwa laughs.

“What’s hard?” Wooyoung asks, falling in step with you both.

“Do you think we all can catch petals at the same time?” Seonghwa wonders.

“You bet we can. Guys!” Wooyoung claps to get everyone’s attention and you groan, laughing to yourself. “We have a challenge.”

“What’s the prize?”

“Shut up and listen,” Wooyoung scolds Mingi and he leans against Yunho for comfort, laughing anyway. “We’re all going to try to catch petals at the same time.”

“Why would we do that…” Yeosang begins but when Wooyoung folds his arm, he retracts his question.

“Is this about the true love saying?” San wraps his arm around Yeosang and you all slow down to a halt. “I don’t really believe in that, but it’s romantic.”

“If the nine of us catch petals at the same time, that would make it more believable,” Yunho comments. “Because what are the chances?”

“It would be nothing short of a miracle,” Hongjoong sighs. “And it is also what gets us late on the first day of school.”

“Three attempts,” Wooyoung suggests and Jongho nods, being the first to accept the challenge.

You think it’s a bit foolish and you’ll definitely be late for school, but Wooyoung looks so happy to just finally have all of you together and his grin is unmatched. You get him. You’re feeling happy and content too. You meet eyes with all the boys, and it looks like they share the sentiments.

So you all turn away from each other, waiting for Wooyoung’s cue. All of you fix your eyes on that one petal that seems to be falling the right way, that seems to be calling to you. When Wooyoung shouts ‘now!’, you all jump and swing your hand in the air and clutch your fist before you turn back towards each other, light on your feet and almost reminiscent of butterflies in your movement.

It seems nothing short of magical when you all open your fists to find that everyone managed to catch a petal in the first attempt. All nine of you.

Some of you stand in disbelief while the rest absolutely lose their minds. You’re frozen in place, staring at the petal in your hand in awe. When you look up, you find all the boys clutching at their petals like it’s a token of luck. It might as well be.

Or maybe, it’s a symbol of love, marking new beginnings.

taglist pt 1:

@sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @missbangtangirl @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @softsanglix @yongility @sweetinsaniiity @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic @affy1106 @parkthothwa8 @my-loves-my-life @sunnysidesins @jyoon-ahgatiny @lover-ofallthingspretty @dea-nimus @cksanpurpleluv @atzloverr @bamdoe

#ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez fics #ateez fanfic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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band--psycho · 2 days ago

Text

Poly!141 x Reader -Stop The Wedding (Part 2)

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who read Part 1! I hope you all enjoy this part - there are more on the way soon! Read Part 3 / Part 4

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Warnings: Pettines, hurt, mentions of breakups, feelings of anger

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist / Join My Taglist

It was unusual for the coffee shop to be this quiet on a Friday afternoon, but considering how manic the rest of the day had been, you couldn’t deny that you were thankful for the reprieve.

There was a quiet lull around you; just the soft murmurs of people's conversations and the familiar hiss that came from the espresso machine as you cleaned it.

The little bell at the top of the door rang, signaling a customer's arrival; you quickly finished up cleaning the machine before turning to face the customer who’d just arrived with your signature “here to help” smile.

A smile that very quickly faltered the second your brain processed who it was that stood in front of you.

Your ex…well one of them..

John Price.

Captain John Price…

He looked different, in his eyes mainly…he looked tired, much more tired than you’d ever seen him, even after he’d come back from his deployments.

Mind you, the last time you’d seen him or any of the others for that matter, was two and a half years ago, on what had been one of the worst days of your life.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, the familiarity of his voice and the nickname he used to call you, making your heart feel heavy for a brief moment.

The man standing in front of you; along with the others, Simon, Kyle and Johnny, they’d once been your world.

You’d loved them.

You thought they’d loved you too, that was until John ended things with you; all of the others stood in silence, watching as John broke your heart.

That was the last time you’d seen or heard from any of them.

Now, here John stood.

You considered calling your colleague over to serve John seeing as she was cleaning the tables of previous customers; but you quickly realized that John would probably attempt to talk to you more in that scenario.

Part of you also thought about channeling all of your pent up emotions into a slap; though that thought soon disappeared too…it wouldn’t be good for business.

So you simply took a breath and forced a smile onto your face.

There was no point in making a scene or being rude to John, no matter how much part of you wanted to be.

You needed to remain professional.

He was just another customer, that was all.

“What can I get for you today?” You greeted with a perkiness in your voice that made John raise an eyebrow.

His eyes stayed fixed on yours for a few moments; before glancing down at your hand.

Your left hand.

The one that your beautiful engagement ring was on.

You remained silent, trying to keep the forced smile on your lips.

That ring symbolised that you’d moved on with your life.

You didn’t owe him any other type of explanation.

“Just a coffee,” he answered eventually, the hurt of your actions clear as crystal in his blue eyes.

You nodded, taking payment quickly, before beginning to prepare his order; coffee, you knew exactly how John took his coffee, how could you not?

Whilst you were making the order, you couldn’t help but remember the countless times John had praised how you made his coffee.

You’d always blush and say that you didn’t do anything special to it; but that never stopped his praise.

Coffee, a dash of milk and one sugar.

That was the way you’d always made his coffee.

Which is why you purposely ignored your muscle memory and made a very milky coffee with three sugars in.

Was it petty?

Yes.

Did you care?

Absolutely not.

You put the lid on the takeaway coffee cup, hoping that John would take that as a hint to leave.

“Have a nice day,” you smiled politely at him, handing him his coffee.

“Sweetheart-” John began, his fingers brushing lightly over yours as he took the cup.

His actions caught you completely off guard; and you quickly moved your hand away from his, unable to stop yourself from glaring at him.

‘The fucking nerve of this man,’ you thought to yourself; thankfully being saved by a customer who wanted to order another drink before you could say anything to John.

You focused on the order that you were making until you heard the bell above the door chime; only then did you allow yourself to look at the door to see John walking away from the coffee shop.

You couldn’t stop the relieved sigh that fell from your lips; pushing away the slight yearning your heart felt from the brief touch of John's hand on yours.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @mermaniaa @fangirlsfandomss @book-dragon03 @sunrise-willarive @amniotic115 @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @littlejoyfulthings @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @mrstelford @rabbittmoons @bookworm1767 @salemlovespies @amongthe141 @sleepybarnesbby @z-wantstowrite @maryrhodalouandted @uraeus56 @skipping-throughlife @echo9821 @nanamisfootrest @tribbisweetdear

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pandapetals · 1 day ago

Note

I’m in desperate need of some Joel comfort so can I please request Joel taking care of a very sick / unwell reader?? bringing her soup, medicine, tissues - helping her shower .etc. 🥲 (I’ve been on bed rest bc I caught the new strand of covid pray for me😣✊) <33

Bed Rest

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: established relationship, comfort, tenderness, sick reader, joel doing what he does best - showing his love, pet names, no y/n used

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Thank you for the request. I hope you feel better soon, anon!

“Feelin’ any better, darlin’?” Joel’s voice was filled with concern as he steadied you by the elbow, helping you step out of the tub.

The room tilted a little, a dull throb pulsing behind your eyes. You tried to shake your head, but the motion sent a wave of heat prickling down your neck. A cough rattled in your chest, scraping your throat raw.

Joel caught the slight wobble in your knees and was already moving, wrapping a thick, faded towel around your shoulders before you could manage a word. His hands were warm, moving slowly as they rubbed along your arms, chasing the lingering chill from your skin.

“Alright,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Got some medicine from Maria… soup’s heatin’ up. Should be ready by the time we get you settled.”

He kept talking, voice a steady hum against the fog in your head. You could feel the words more than you processed them, the cadence of his voice a thread tethering you to the world as everything else blurred at the edges.

The next thing you knew, soft fabric brushed your skin — his old flannel, you realized distantly, the one that smelled like him. Joel’s hands worked with quiet care, easing you into bed like you were made of glass, tucking the blankets in snug around you.

You drifted in and out, the fever pulling you under, but Joel’s presence was a constant. The gentle scrape of stubble against your temple when he leaned in to check your forehead, the cool press of a damp cloth against the back of your neck, the low rasp of his voice murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch.

Joel came back a few minutes later, the soft creak of the floorboards announcing him before he appeared in the doorway. He carried a tray balanced in one hand — a bowl of steaming soup, a glass of water, and a couple of pills laid out neatly on a folded napkin.

“Hey,” he murmured, easing down onto the edge of the bed. “Got somethin’ for you.”

You managed a faint mumble of thanks, your throat too raw to say much more. He set the tray on the nightstand, scooping up the pills and holding them out to you with one broad palm. When your fingers fumbled, he caught your wrist gently, steadying your hand.

“C’mon now,” he coaxed, his voice soft, patient. “This’ll help.”

You forced the pills down with a sip of water, grimacing at the way they caught in your sore throat. Joel was already there with another sip, tilting the glass just enough to help without making you choke. His hand lingered, rough thumb brushing the side of your jaw.

“There you go,” he said under his breath.

His fingers ghosted over your forehead, the back of his hand cool against your burning skin. He frowned, brow furrowing like he didn’t like what he felt, but he didn’t say anything.

You sagged back against the pillows with a weary sigh, every bone in your body aching like it had been hollowed out. A sudden sneeze jolted through you, sharp and painful, sending a new wave of pressure through your skull.

“Shit,” you croaked, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead.

Joel was already reaching for a tissue, handing it to you without a word, then rubbing your back in slow circles.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured. “You’re alright. Just let it out.”

Joel waited until your breathing evened out again, his hand still tracing circles between your shoulder blades. The fever left your skin hot and clammy, your hair damp at the temples, but he didn’t pull away.

“Alright,” he said quietly, reaching for the tray. “Let’s see if we can get some of this in you.”

You made a weak noise of protest, sinking deeper into the pillows. The thought of food turned your stomach, but the smell of the broth, rich and simple, laced with garlic and something herbaceous, was oddly comforting.

“Not hungry,” you rasped, eyes half-lidded.

“Didn’t ask,” Joel shot back. He stirred the soup, then lifted a spoonful, blowing on it before holding it out to you. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You gave him a look, one brow barely lifting. “Bossy.”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Now quit givin’ me lip and eat somethin’.”

The warmth of the soup surprised you, not just the heat, but also the flavor, which was soothing and familiar. You managed a few small spoonfuls, Joel waiting patiently between each one, never rushing, always cooling the next bite with a careful puff of breath.

“You make this?” you asked after a while, voice rough as sandpaper.

Joel shrugged, pretending to focus on the bowl. “It’s nothin’ fancy. Used to make it for Sarah when she got sick. She hated takin’ medicine but’d drink down a whole pot of soup if I let her.”

There was a pause, your expression softening. You reached for the spoon, but your hand trembled too much to hold it steady. Joel caught your wrist again.

“Hey,” he said softly, a little teasing now. “I ain’t complainin’ about an excuse to spoon-feed a pretty girl.”

A tired, genuine smile tugged at your mouth. “Perk of the job, huh?”

“Best part so far,” Joel murmured, easing another bite between your lips.

It went on like that with bits of easy quiet and Joel’s low voice filling the spaces. The fever still hummed under your skin, but the ache in your chest loosened a little, not from the medicine or the soup, but from him.

By the time the bowl was half-empty, your eyes had drifted shut again, Joel’s rough palm brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. He set the empty dish aside, wiping his hands on his jeans as he glanced over at you.

Your eyes were half-closed, lashes clumped from fevered tears, cheeks flushed too bright. But there was a little more color in you now, a little less of that glassy, faraway look.

He reached for the damp cloth on the nightstand, folding it fresh and cool before laying it against your forehead. You sighed, your face turning instinctively toward his touch.

“Better?” he asked.

You swallowed, throat raw but not quite as sharp as before. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Stay?”

Joel huffed a breath through his nose, like it wasn’t even a question. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

You hesitated, picking at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket. The words stuck, heavy and awkward in your chest, but you forced them out anyway.

“Will you…?” you started, then sighed, eyes flicking away. “Could you maybe… hold me? Just… for a little while.”

“C’mere,” he murmured.

He kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed without ceremony, pulling you gently into his side. His arm came around your shoulders, the warmth of him seeping into your chilled skin. He tugged the blankets up around you both, settling in.

You let your head rest against his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your ear, his hand tracing lazy circles against your arm.

“This alright?” he asked, voice a low rumble against your hair.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Better than alright.”

Joel let out a quiet, satisfied noise, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Good,” he said, his voice already thick with sleep. “Ain’t lettin’ you freeze to death on my watch.”

You smiled, eyes falling shut as his hand kept moving in slow, soothing patterns. The fever still hummed under your skin, but with Joel wrapped around you, the ache felt a little less sharp.

taglist: @starmurdock

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel the last of us

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mrs-delaney · 2 days ago

Text

2 AM Confessions

🍻📱 Request: joe drunk texting at 2am—wyd? u up?—she ignores it… so he shows up anyway 🥴💌

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 2k words

💬🔞 warning: flirty 2am texts, unresolved feelings, and sex that might ruin your life a little (in a good way)

author’s note: i’m deep in the next chapter of hide (and joe’s pov for behind the lens is coming along too 👀), but i’m still making time to work through the requests in my inbox. love y’all, mean it 💛

📚 read my masterlist

🎤🏈 read Hide — two people, two careers, and one very complicated kind of love

💌 want to be the first to know when new stories drop? join the taglist for updates, previews, and more. ✨

The buzzing of your phone on the nightstand cuts through the quiet of your apartment. You glance at the clock—2:17 AM—then at the screen lighting up with Joe's name.

You up?

You stare at the message, your heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always does when his name appears. You've been avoiding this. Avoiding him. The silence after he left your place Thursday night wasn't an accident—it was self-preservation.

Your phone buzzes again.

Miss you

Then again.

Why didn't you text me back the other night?

And again.

Coming over. Need to see you.

Panic floods your system. You scramble out of bed, rushing to the bathroom mirror. Your hair is a mess from lying down, and you're wearing an old, oversized, grungy t-shirt. You try to fix your hair without making it obvious that you've fixed it, then quickly change into a cute, matching set—soft cotton shorts and a fitted tank top. You grab your perfume and spray it on your wrists and neck, then pause, realizing you're putting in effort you said you wouldn't, but there's no time to second-guess yourself now.

The knock on your door comes twenty minutes later.

You take a breath, wait a few seconds so you don't seem too eager, then open the door to find Joe leaning against the frame. He's not stumbling drunk, just looser than usual—hair slightly messed up, eyes a little unfocused but still very much him.

"You can't just show up here, Joe."

"You weren't answering." Matter-of-fact, like this explains everything.

"I was asleep." The lie comes easily.

"No, you weren't. Your light was on." He looks past you into the apartment.

You both know he's right.

"Can I come in?"

You don't respond verbally, just step back and open the door wider. He walks past you, and you close the door carefully, buying yourself a second to breathe. The space suddenly feels smaller with him in it.

He turns to look at you once he's inside, taking in the apartment like he's cataloging details. Neither of you moves to sit down. The silence stretches, awkward and charged.

"Why didn't you text me back?"

He's not bothering with small talk.

"You're drunk, Joe. I don't want to do this with you right now."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I left your place Thursday night and haven't heard from you since," he continues, not letting you deflect. "That's not... that's not how this usually goes."

"I needed space."

"Space from me?" His voice goes quieter, more vulnerable.

You cross your arms defensively. "It's getting complicated, Joe. This was supposed to be easy."

"So you need space because you caught feelings?" His tone is slightly challenging, a little harsh.

The question hangs in the air like an accusation. Your heart pounds because he just said what you've been trying not to admit.

"What if I did?" you ask, turning it back on him, making him answer first.

Joe runs his hand through his hair, the alcohol making him bold enough to ask, but your response puts him on the spot. A beat of silence as he processes, then:

"I didn't ask you to."

The words hit harder than he meant them to. You feel your face change instantly—hurt, then anger.

"You know what? This is done."

You're already moving toward the door, done with this conversation after he just shut you down when you were finally being honest.

"Wait, don't... can we just..." He takes a step toward you, panic creeping into his voice as he realizes he's about to lose something important. "I fucked that up."

You stop, but don't turn around; your hand is still on the door handle. "Yeah, you did. And I don't want to be on the roster anymore."

The word choice—"roster"—cuts deep because it's exactly right. You're calling out the casual rotation, the lack of commitment, and Joe feels like you punched him.

"You're not on the roster. You ARE the roster," he says, his voice rough with honesty. "There hasn't been anyone else in weeks."

You freeze with your hand still on the door. That's not what you expected him to say. It changes everything and nothing all at once.

"For weeks," you say slowly, finally turning to look at him. "What about tomorrow? Next month?"

You're asking for commitment he might not be ready to give, asking him to define what you are, what this means beyond just being the only one right now.

"I don't know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "It's been a long time since I've done this."

He's not just talking about relationships, but about caring this much. About having something to lose. About being out of his depth, because this actually means something.

"I get that," you say, and you do. "But I can't be in limbo while you figure it out."

The clarity of that statement hits him. You're not being unreasonable—you're protecting yourself. You understand why he's uncertain, but you won't sacrifice yourself for it.

"I know I don't want to lose you," he says finally. "But I don't know what that means yet."

"That's still not enough, Joe." You're exhausted by this whole conversation. "I need more than 'I don't want to lose you.' I need to know this isn't just you telling me what you think I want to hear because it's 2 AM and you want a quick fuck."

The brutal honesty of that accusation makes him feel like you slapped him. You're calling out exactly what you're afraid this is—manipulation for sex.

"That's not what this is," he says, defensive but hurt. "If I just wanted a quick and easy fuck I wouldn't be having this conversation. If that's what this was, I wouldn't have dropped the roster weeks ago."

"So what happens now?" you ask, putting the ball back in his court. He's made his defense, now what's he actually going to do about it?

"I don't know," he admits, the fight going out of him. "Can we just... take it one day at a time?"

He steps closer to you, reaching for you. "Can I stay? We can figure the rest out tomorrow."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Joe. You can't just—"

"I came here because I couldn't sleep thinking about you," he interrupts, his voice raw with exhaustion and honesty. "I don't have the right words to say right now, but that's the truth."

The simplicity of it hits harder than any flowery speech. He's not trying to charm his way out, just telling you the truth. He reaches for you again, more tentatively this time. "Please let me stay."

The vulnerability in that "please" cracks something open in you. Joe doesn't beg, but this feels like begging. After the emotional back-and-forth, after his raw honesty, you can't find words.

So you close the distance between you, stepping into his reach.

Your actions give him the answer your words couldn't. His arms wrap around you immediately, and the relief in both your bodies is palpable. All that tension finally breaking.

"You smell good," he murmurs into your hair, taking you in after holding you close.

After a few moments of just breathing together, of small touches and the shift from comfort to awareness of each other's bodies, he pulls back slightly to look at your face.

"Come on," he says softly, taking your hand and tugging gently toward the hallway.

You follow without question the unspoken agreement that this is what you both want. The walk to your bedroom is quiet, just the sound of your footsteps and the anticipation building between you.

Once you reach the bedroom, there's a beat of uncertainty. The emotional vulnerability you just shared hangs in the air, making this feel different than your usual hookups. More meaningful.

You reach for him first, your hands sliding up under his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. He's still for a second, then helps you pull the shirt over his head.

Your fingers trace along his chest, and he lets out a quiet breath. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing against the soft cotton of your tank top.

"This okay?" he asks, voice low.

You nod, reaching for the hem of your own shirt. He watches as you pull it off, his eyes taking you in like he's memorizing this moment. When his hands finally touch your bare skin, you both exhale at the same time.

The kissing starts slow, tentative, almost careful, but builds quickly. His mouth moves to your neck, finding that spot that makes you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair.

"Missed this," he murmurs against your throat. "Missed you."

Your response gets lost in a soft moan as he guides you back toward the bed. The mattress hits the back of your knees, and you sit down, pulling him with you.

He settles between your legs, hands skimming up your sides, relearning your body like it's been months instead of days. When you arch into his touch, he groans low in his chest.

"Fuck, baby."

His hands are everywhere—your ribs, your back, tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeper. You can taste the alcohol on his tongue, feel the slight tremor in his hands that gives away how much he wants this.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down along with his boxers. He kicks them off impatiently, then reaches for your shorts.

"These too," he says, voice rough.

You lift your hips so he can slide them off, and when you're both finally naked, he pauses to look at you. His chest is rising and falling heavily.

"Come here," you whisper, pulling him down to you.

The first touch of skin against skin makes you both gasp. He settles his weight on you carefully, like he's afraid you might disappear.

He reaches between you, fingers sliding through your wetness, and curses under his breath. "Fuck."

You're about to respond when he pushes one finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly. Your back arches off the bed, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, thumb circling your clit as his fingers work. "Just like that, baby."

The tension builds quickly, your body responding to his touch like it always does. But when you're close, he pulls his hand away, ignoring your frustrated whine.

"Want to be inside you when you come," he says, positioning himself at your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, both of you breathing hard as he fills you completely.

"Shit," he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "You feel fucking good."

He starts moving, deep and slow, each thrust deliberate. Your nails dig into his back as you meet his rhythm, the friction building between you.

"Harder," you gasp, and he complies immediately, his hips snapping against yours with more force.

"Look at me," he says, voice strained. When your eyes meet his, something shifts. This isn't just sex anymore. It's something else entirely.

You feel yourself getting close, that familiar heat building low in your belly. "Joe, I'm—"

"I know," he cuts you off, reaching between you to rub tight circles over your clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it."

The orgasm hits you hard, your body clenching around him as pleasure washes over you. He follows seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a low groan.

You both lie there afterward, breathing heavily, his weight comforting against you. After a moment, he shifts to pull out, then collapses beside you, pulling you against his chest.

"We're gonna have to talk about this tomorrow," he says quietly, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh softly against his chest. "You're right."

Neither of you says anything else for a while, just lie there in the quiet darkness, both knowing that something has shifted between you. Maybe you still don't have all the answers, but this—whatever this is—feels like a beginning.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fluff #nfl fanfic #nfl fan fic #nfl fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #nfl x reader #nfl x you #joey b #joe burrow x y/n #Spotify

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soonyoungs · 22 hours ago

Note

Can you do a smut with wonwoo taking pictures before and during sex?

ఇ wonwoo and vagina having!reader

ఇ warnings: smut! not proof read and as usual: written while sleepy!

ఇ wc: 1350 ♡︎

ఇ notes: these all seemed similar so i lumped them together. the end result is a bit different from the prompts, i’m so sorry!! i was struggling with this one a bit and im not sure why 🥺 i’m also sorry this took forever and thank you for being so patient, i hope you like it ✩

[9:48 pm] - wonwoo

“pay attention,” he’s chastising you, albeit playfully “trust me, this is the best part”! you don’t know how he’s managed to stay this calm, when you can’t even hardly catch your breath, let alone stop shaking long enough to steady the camera in your hands. you also don’t know if he means for you to pay attention to him or the movie he insisted on putting on.

“shut up,” you huff, adjusting yourself on the couch, careful to not squeeze his head between your legs “it’s not as if you’re going to quiz me when it’s over,” you pause waiting for confirmation, after several seconds of silence you gasp “are you”? a deep laugh rumbles from him as he rests his head against the inner part of your thigh. “wonwoo!” you complain, knowing how he enjoys teasing you.

“‘m serious,” he starts, looking at you and continuing before you can cut him off “about paying attention. it’s hotter that way.” he moves forward grabbing your wrists angling them downward, making sure they’re able to capture everything that’s about to happen.

you honestly should have known this was going to happen, it always does when wonwoo goes down on you. he’s messy and desperate and so incredibly, and not so surprisingly, submissive. he’s a whining mess “you taste so fucking good”. the phone in your hands captures shaky footage of wonwoo barely peeking at you from where he’s got his face situated between your legs. he’s gentle with prying your knees farther apart, giving you small kisses on your thighs to appease you, he knows he’s not in control. with a nod of your head he’s quick to get back to work.

wrapping his lips around your small, hard bud he’s gentle with suckling on it as he teases your entrance. “wonwoo, darling” you warn, “weren’t you ever taught not to play with your meal?” although he doesn’t look at you, you feel his nose scrunch up in distaste at your vulgar joke.

a small chuckle leaves your throat before it shifts into a groan as wonwoo gives your clit a hash suck, easing his middle finger inside of you. once you seem to have gotten used to the intrusion of the first finger, he adds a second. wonwoo is slow to pick up the pace of his fingers as he lazily drags them out, pushes them back in and curls them before repeating the process. your hips begin to wiggle, indicating your growing impatience. no words are needed: a small glare from you is enough for him to catch the hint.

wonwoo’s fingers, that were ceaselessly moving at a relaxed pace, are now being drilled in to you as he begins lapping harder at your clit. alternating between harsh sucks and sweet kitten licks. free hand on your tummy, gently keeping you still so he can work. you’re letting out loud moans of his name as you begin to feel your climax approaching. a final powerful suck and curl of his fingers and wonwoo has thrown you into the flames - your high taking over.

wonwoo laps at you softly as he slowly removes his fingers from you as you come down. you’re whining as he believes he is helping to bring you back to reality, until he hears you rasp out “another one”. he lifts his head up from your center, examining your face to see that you mean it. “another one, wonwoo,” you say, warning in your tone “i want more”. obliging you, wonwoo sits up, crossing his legs and grips your hips, lifting you to bring your legs over his shoulders.

you startle at the unexpected movement and drop the phone in your hands in the process. you’re quick to recover it and adjust just in time to capture the perfect angle of him bringing your center to his face as he begins to devour you. hands gripping your hips tightly, so you don’t fall as you grind yourself into him. your whines and moans echo throughout your living room, making wonwoo’s ears perk up. raising his head briefly he asks “am i doing a good job”? you bite your lip to keep from letting out a whine.

“yes baby,” you breath out “you’re doing so well. i’m so, so close again. just a bit more,” you steady the phone in one hand and reach your other up to his lips, glistening with your wetness. your thumb makes contact with the corner of his mouth, you gather up your essence dragging it along his bottom lip and gently push it past the entrance of his mouth and press it against his tongue. wonwoo groans as he closes his lips around your thumb and begins suckling on it. once you’ve had enough of watching him suck on your finger, you pull it from his mouth and continue to drag it on his bottom lip down to his chin, gathering more slick. lifting your thumb from his face you bring it to your clit and apply pressure, rubbing in small circles. “wonwoo, make me cum” you order, removing your hand and bring your thumb to your mouth, putting on a show of tasting yourself.

wonwoo throws his head back with a groan. after he recollects himself he makes sure both of your hands are back on the phone before he dives back in. he’s messy with it, licking the expanse of your entire center, bringing his tongue to your opening, teasing the entrance before sticking the tip in and pursing his lips to suck your wetness out of you, as if you’re his favorite juice box.

you’re wiggling around just enough to worry him, so he readjusts his grip on you. straightening out his back he lifts your hips up off of the couch as he pulls back to spread your pussy open for him with his fingers before getting back to it. the phone has fallen out of your hands on to the cushion above your head and you have no plans to pick it back up. you’re crying out, reaching forward and clawing at wonwoo’s hands. at this moment there’s only one thing you’re certain of and it’s that Miss Carpenter had it wrong. this isn’t a painting wonwoo is creating - it’s a masterpiece; certainly not art but worship.

wonwoo is moving his head at a rapid pace as his lips wrap around you and tug, pushing you over the edge. he grips your hips as your body twitches and spasms harshly, bringing you closer to his mouth as he works you to completion, only as soon as your climax ends another begins. “wonwoo,” you repeat his name in warning “coming, i’m coming. feels so good, you’re making me come so hard” tears run down your face as you start to feel an unfamiliar pressure in your belly. before you can warn wonwoo you let out a scream of ecstasy as you release a small gush of climax onto him. wonwoo is working as hard as he can to lap up everything you give him, licking you as clean as he can before he feels your body go limp.

gently releasing you and laying you down properly on the couch, wonwoo rubs your hips where he’s gripped them too tightly. with a small, content, sigh and soft smile on your face you search for the phone you dropped, managing to find it within seconds. you bring the camera up, capturing the aftermath of your climax on wonwoo’s face.

looking every bit of a wet fantasy you focus the camera on him: his eyes are glazed over in lust, a gloss of your wetness covers his mouth and part of his chin and his fringe is tousled to hell, covering his eyes. wonwoo’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth as he licks up some of your essence before letting out a deep chuckle, running his hands through his bangs, all hints of submission nonexistent. “now baby,” he drawls “can you tell me the name of the main character in the movie that was on?”

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader

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withwritersblock · 3 days ago

Text

Feels Like Part 4

~Feels Like by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: some more Nico for you all :) Summary: Katherine's new chapter really hits a new stride and Nico hits a stall in his game. Warnings: nothing really Word count: 2,547 masterlist

Quinn was sitting on the couch while she paced back and forth on the phone. She was currently on the phone, practically pleading for a job interview with the Department of English at Rutgers University. She was explaining her interests and past experiences regarding creative writing.

Quinn expressed that Katherine doesn’t have much to lose in the regards of a job. He simply said, “Why not give them a call, what’s the worst that could happen?” and he was right.

They were in the process of providing her contact information to send over her resume to them. She thought that they were pulling her string but the email seemed legit enough that she wrote it down.

“Thank you so much, I appreciate it. You have an amazing rest of your day,” she expressed as she hung up the phone. Spinning on her heel, Katherine looked towards Quinn expectantly.

“Well, what did they say?” he asked urgently with a hopeful grin on his lips.

“She said that I can send over my resume and a few pieces of writings I’ve done over the years to this email address; and they’ll schedule me for an interview. I don’t know if it’ll come of anything but hey, it’s a lead.”

“Exactly, Katie, this is amazing!” Quinn offered as he stood up from the couch. “I’m so proud of you,” he offered as he took a few steps away from her and began to walk towards the kitchen. “Let me make you some lunch for this occasion,” he said somewhat jokingly.

“Quinn, it’s barely anything,” she said as she took his place on the couch. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and it was a text message from Jack. He was wondering when she’ll return to Jersey, or if she’ll return.

Quinn has spent most of the last two weeks Katherine has been in Vancouver trying to convince her to stay. She would have her own bedroom and a potential career. It would be perfect. But she keeps declining the offer. Not because she doesn’t want to spend more time with Quinn, that would be amazing. But it would be a lot harder for her in the long run.

Katherine soon realized that her little brothers oddly needed her a lot more than she thought. She was barely in New Jersey for a full two weeks and her little brothers were in dire need of their only sister’s guidance.

“It’s the start of your new chapter,” he offered loudly from the kitchen. An evident smile on his lips from the way he spoke.

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” she said sarcastically as she typed a fast reply to Jack. Informing him that she would be returning to New Jersey on the thirteenth. “But we’ll see, it very well could be nothing,” she said while resting her head on the top of the light blue couch.

“Can you be hopeful for once,” Quinn teased as he started pulling out different pots and pans.

“I’ll be hopeful once I get a job interview.” she shot back before taking in a deep breath.

“I am sure you will, your writing is incredible, Katie,” he reassured from the kitchen.

A soft smile formed on her lips. Only two people in her personal circle were allowed to read her writings. Her high school best friend, Mallory, and Quinn. Katherine never trusted Jack or Luke not to tease her or make fun of her for it. But Quinn loved reading as much as she did. Sometimes Katherine thought that he loved it more than her.

When the boys joined the NHL, Quinn started a sibling book club. It was a text chain they had to discuss the books they were reading. Luke was a part of the group chat but didn’t start reading until this season. He contributed information for the first time in September and it was a total shock to Katherine.

“Thanks, Q.”

~~~

Nico was not fond of being late to anything. Except this morning seemed like nothing was going his way. He usually has three alarms for the mornings he has an early skate. The first alarm is to wake him up and the following two are his final warnings. This morning in particular, he completely slept through all three of them.

So he woke up twenty minutes later than normal. Which then threw off his time to shower to losen his muscles. The time to make his breakfast. His breakfast was the exact same every morning. Except this morning, he turned the heat too high on the stove and his eggs were utterly distgusting in taste.

His mind was busy. He couldn’t explain why but his mind couldn’t clear. He could not pinpoint the exact moment his mind wouldn’t slow down but it’s been two weeks of this constant cycle of messing up his schedule. Nico couldn’t even figure out what thoughts were messing with his mind, it was like clouds were floating through his mind instead of actual thoughts. He was lost.

Which led to the worst morning skate of his life. He couldn’t be the captain his teammates deserved because he was so out of sync. He slammed his stick down on the ice after his shot missed the net and made the puck make echoeing slam against the glass.

“Fuck sake!” he muttered while skating out of the drill towards the benches. He reached down and took a hold of his water bottle and shot water into his mouth. He kept his gaze low onto the bench in front of him. His breathing was fast and unsteady as he continued to stare blankly towards the wooden bench.

Jack skated up beside him as he reached down and took a hold of his own water. He leaned against the half wall looking towards Nico.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked before he shot water into his own mouth. Nico shrugged before he dropped his water down before he leaned back. He glanced towards Jack, who was in a perfect mood for the morning. He was making every shot, the puck seemed to move perfectly on his stick.

“Just a shit day,” Nico mumbled as his scanned the eyes. He watched each of his teammates, he admired how they moved effortlessly and recovered quickly once they made a mistake.

“Any reason why?” he asked him.

“Just haven’t been sleeping well,” he said quietly as he watched Dawson wrist a shot towards the net and it went in perfectly. Nico nodded as he started skating towards the next drill, leaving Jack in his wake.

Jack followed after him instantly, “My sister is coming back today. Do you want to join us for lunch after I pick her up?” Jack asked as he skated a few feet behind Nico.

Nico spun around and began skating backwards, he was furrowing his eyebrows harshly. “I appreciate the offer, but you haven’t seen your sister for almost two weeks. Catch up or whatever,” he instantly dismissed the idea, a forced chuckle fell from his lips.

Jack scowled towards him as he let out a scoff. Jack smirked as he leaped towards Nico teasingly as he shoved him back. Nico stumbled on his skates for only a moment before a small smile formed on his lips.

“It’ll clear your mind of whatever is affecting your game so much. Katie was asking about you after the game against the Oilers.” Jack said as he skated away from Nico towards a pile of pucks. He began to puck handle as he raised his gaze towards Nico. “You took a hard fall into the boards and she wanted to know if you were alright. I told her you were fine, clearly that was a lie,” Jack spoke while glancing towards Nico every few seconds.

“There is no lie, I’m alright. I don’t even remember which one you're talking about,” Nico said with a forced grin on his lips. He followed Jack in pursuit and took a puck of his own and began to do his usual puck handle drills. Slowing his breathing, he tried to focus solely on the puck and nothing else.

He failed as the puck escaped him and another curse word fell from his lips as he tossed his head back. Without hesitation, he took another puck and began the process over and over again. He couldn’t figure out what was plaguing him and it was driving him insane.

“Alright, you’re coming with Katie and I. You need to clear your mind before tonight, this is becoming embarrassing dude,” Jack stated as he shot the puck towards the empty net from the blue line. It hit the top left corner of the goal perfectly.

Nico straightened his posture as he tapped his stick to the ice while tilting his head to the side. “You think you’re so funny,” Nico let out while rolling his eyes.

“I do, thank you,” Jack said while he took another shot towards the net and hit the post. Nico followed in pursuit and wrist one towards the net, missing it by several feet. “Damn,” Jack muttered for both of their missed shots. “I don’t hear you objecting, so you’re coming with–amazing,”

“Why isn’t Rusty going with you?” Nico asked as he took another attempt at a shot towards the net. The puck hit the net dead center, Nico still was not satisfied with it.

“He’s got some lunch date today, I don’t know he wouldn’t say much about it,” Jack said as their assistant couch hollered towards them to wrap it up. Nico nodded towards him as he skated towards the bench, with or without Jack; he didn’t care.

“Got it, I drove here though, so it would be an inconvenience if–”

“I’ll pick you up on the way, your place is on the way to the airport anyway.” Jack offered, a smug grin on his lips. “We’ll fix you right up before tonight, promise,”

They started walking down the tunnel together as Nico took off his helmet. “Why do you want me to go to lunch with you and your sister so bad? It’s weird man,” Nico said while laughing.

“Because you are in a pissed off mood and my sister is sad from leaving Vancouver. Time with Jack-a-boy will fix that for you both,”

“Please don’t ever call yourself that again,” Nico said while shoving him away. Jack barked out a laugh while shaking his head.

Jack kept his promise and drove to Nico’s apartment on the way to the airport. Nico didn’t have any more objections. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to spend time with Katherine. He enjoys being around her. She’s funny and good at conversation. It was the first time that he’s spent any time with her since he’s known Jack. She was always with Trent every time he saw her and he was given clear signals to leave her alone.

But with Trent out of the picture, Nico realized how kind and sweet she was too. Sure, it was one evening together in Vancouver but she truly was an amazing person to be around.

But Nico was not in the mood to socalize. He was in the mindset to just pumble the Bruins during tonight’s game. He was not in the mood to have lunch with his closest friend and his sister. His sister, who he still barely knows.

Nico sat in the front seat, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared towards the cars in front of them in the passenger pick up line that seemingly was not moving. “Dude, seriously what’s gotten you so pissed off? It seriously can’t still be the game from Sunday.” Jack asked as he smacked his hand against the steering wheel. Mainly out of frustration towards the line unwilling to move.

Katherine had been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes at this point.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t been sleeping,” Nico let out as he glanced towards Jack for a second before he pulled his phone out and began scrolling on his phone.

“Have you spoken to the trainers about it?” Jack questioned as the cars finally started moving in front of them. He straightened in his seat as he lifted his foot off of the break.

“What are they gonna do? Give me drugs, I don’t need that,” Nico spat as he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll get out of it, can’t force it, ya know?”

Jack took in a hesitant breath as he turned up the music slowly on his steering wheel. Jack hummed along to the song as he looked for his sister once they arrived at the passenger pick up section. She was standing near the middle, a small smile on her lips once she saw Jack’s car.

He pulled up to the side, putting the car into park momentarily. Katherine pulled open the back door and tossed her suitcase inside. Slowly, she climbed in. “Hey J!” she let out as their eyes met. She buckled her seatbelt as she watched Nico spin his head around to meet her eye. “Hey Nico,” she said as their eyes connected. A soft smile formed on Nico's lips once he met her light eyes. He nodded as he forced his gaze back ahead.

“Katie, we are on a mission to cheer Nico up. Do you have any bright ideas?” Jack offered as he began driving away from the passenger pick up chaos.

Nico let out a soft laugh as he turned his gaze towards Jack. “I thought this was to cheer us both up?” Nico questioned.

“Yeah, no,” Jack muttered.

“Jack texted me when I landed that you were not having a good few days. So I asked for you to join us for lunch,” she offered.

Nico turned his head around to meet her gaze again. He felt his heart start to beat faster, the longer he looked into her intoxicating blue eyes. “You wanted me to come with?” he asked somewhat suspiciously.

She nodded while maintaining eye contact with him. “Playing the Bruins tonight, can’t stand the Bruins. Need you to get your head into the game,” she teased. He chuckled while rolling his eyes playfully. Jack started singing the song from High School Musical to mock her word choice.

“But–” she cut Jack’s horrible singing off, “In all seriousness, I am still getting over everything that happened but I have something to celebrate.” she offered towards the two of them. “So, if this celebratory lunch doesn’t cheer you up then maybe being really physical at tonight’s game can change that,” she said with a grin.

“What’re you celebrating?” Jack asked as he glanced towards her through the rear view mirror. She smiled widely before taking in a deep breath.

“I am going to be teaching creative writing at Rutgers next semester. So I will not be living on your couch for much longer,” she offered happily.

“That’s amazing Katie!” Jack cheered.

Nico turned around meeting her gaze again and smiled softly towards her, “Exciting new chapter, then huh?” he asked as he winked towards her. She felt a blush form on her cheeks as she nodded. She felt a smile creep up on her lips before she dropped her gaze towards her lap.

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roseandxanderfics · 2 days ago

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Marvel – Shy Reader x Cockwarming (#28) – Bucky Barnes

You’re tucked into Bucky’s lap, your face buried against the crook of his neck, your breath shaky as you try to process how full you feel. His cock is buried deep inside you, but he’s not moving—he’s just holding you there, his arms like a fortress around your body.

“Easy,” he murmurs, one warm hand stroking slow circles on your back, the other resting possessively on your thigh. “We’re not in any rush.”

You whimper, shifting just a little—enough for him to tighten his grip and still you completely. “Stay still, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and patient. “I just want to feel you.”

You shiver at the raw need in his tone, your skin flushing with heat as you cling to him. “Bucky… I don’t know if I can,” you admit, your voice small and breathless.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Just let me have this. Let me have you.”

Every time you try to shift or squirm, he gently presses you back down, his hands firm and reassuring. The intensity of it—the way he fills you, the way he holds you there—it makes your head spin.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “So warm and soft around me… I could stay like this forever.”

And you believe him—because every breath he takes is a testament to how much he needs you, every gentle word a promise that he’s not going anywhere. So you let yourself go, relaxing in his hold, letting the weight of his need anchor you to the present.

You’re his—completely and utterly—and you know he’d burn the world down to keep you safe.

#marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #smut

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caitlinsnicket · 2 days ago

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bob reynolds relationship headcanons part. 3

warnings: another fluffy part, mentions of bob's mental illnesses

a/n: i love him your honor

whenever he's by himself, his eating habits are terrible: he either drinks five gallons of water and forgets he needs actual sustenance, or just sleeps the day away without consuming anything. it's the reason why you make sure that he has eaten something before the two of you hang out or watch a movie. the more weight he gains, the happier you are

one day you catch him staring at himself in the mirror, smiling softly at the little belly that has formed on his stomach, and how his ribs are basically a detail instead of sharp and visible all the time. you hug him from behind then, telling him how proud you are of his progress, and then announce that you've made pasta for the night. you also pretend you didn't see the way he blushes at your praise

and when he starts eating away, on his second plate already (his metabolism requires way more energy than it did before), and the corner of his mouth is smudged with the sauce, you can't help but dab a napkin on it, and smile at his messiness. on other times, when dessert is already clouding your mind, you might clean him up by licking the sauce away, just to hear his breath hitch and his eyes become wide

it's also nice to get takeout, and have him pick what you guys are going to eat: he spent so long not being able to make choices, and then manipulated into making them, that it feels nice to start making good decisions again (even if it starts small). so you give him a bunch of options like thai, pizza, fries, and he picks whatever he wants. in the beginning he would almost beg you to choose for him, but after reassuring him a thousand times that whatever he chose would be good, he finally relaxed. it is now tradition, and he will buy something to be delivered to you without you asking

he expresses interest in legos one day (he mentions he really wanted them as a kid, but never spoke up about it), and so you buy him those flower ones, because he also said he'd like to "green his place up," but didn't trust himself to take care of a plant

turns out, the choice was perfect, and now he has twenty different kinds of lego flowers all over his bedroom. he loves to build them with you specifically, but will invite the others on occasion. sometimes he'll mess up a little (like attaching the wrong pieces together and not being able to separate them without breaking them, or he'll stumble on an already built part and knock it to the floor, dismantling it) and he looks so scared for a second it breaks your heart. so you reassure him constantly, maybe even mess up a few times yourself on purpose, and praise him every time the two of you finish a set. his face lights up during the whole process, and your heart melts every time

he likes to be around you even when you're not doing something together. and when you get to reading that book you've been wanting to, he sneaks into your room without you noticing, until he gets on top of you (like a tall, long blanket) or by your side, and hugs you to him. sometimes he'll just stay there, enjoying your warmth and the way one of your hands pets his hair, and other times he'll ask you to read aloud for him. he usually falls asleep if you read, and you soon join him (i think he's way warmer than he used to be) because he is, indeed, the comfiest blanket

if you're gonna do a chore or a task, please ask him to do it with you. he goes on missions very rarely, and he loves feeling useful, but it's not always that they'll let him wander around and use his powers. that makes him feel trapped at best, and useless at worst. so if he has nothing to do, invite him to help you do your laundry, go grocery shopping, move some furniture around, or go around the city: he likes feeling like he's giving back somehow, that he's repaying your kindness and patience by helping you out (even if you reassure him that whatever you do for him goes without any expectations, he gets anxious if he goes too long without doing something nice to you too). praise him while at it and watch him gleam with happiness

the first time he cried in front of you, you went to comfort him with a hug, but he pulled away after a second. you figured maybe he didn't want to be touched, but later he confessed that he felt a little disgusting when he cried: salty tears and a runny nose used to get him beat up, and even though he knows you would never do that, he still feels bad. the next time you catch him crying silently by himself, you don't let him pull away: you hold his face with your hands as softly as you can, and use your shirt to clean his face. he's already laughing a little and the tips of his ears are getting red, but when you start kissing him all over his face, your lips soft and warm, he almost forgets why he was crying, and he nuzzles into your neck

his hands are fidgety: always have been, always will be. though there's a subtle difference from when he's alright and he's playing with his fingers, and when he's getting anxious and restless. that's when his hands start shaking and that damned crease in the middle of his eyebrows shows up, indicating that he needs space or he's gonna lose it. the key to ease this problem is taking him away from wherever he is, and holding his hands tightly while he breathes slowly. it doesn't work every time, but he still prefers if you try it before taking more drastic measures. so you hold his hands between yours, tracing the faint scars and pale skin there, and when his breathing has eased up a little more, you brush one of your thumbs between his eyebrows, and he always laughs a little because he always forgets he frowns a lot

there's this devotion in bob you rarely see in other people, and the way he always seems so surprised that you love him as much as he does breaks your heart a little. it's why you try so hard to make him happy: because if there's someone who deserves to feel good all the time, it's bob.

#marvel hcs #marvel headcanons #marvel #marvel thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts imagine #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds x y/n

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x-prettyboy-x · 1 day ago

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Ooo could you possibly do something with Erik x male!reader, I just think this man experiencing gay panic would be delightful, possibly tattooing/piercing reader and he keeps fumbling/dropping things because he’s distracted and making a fool of himself :] - 🐺

Ty in advance <33

Distracted

Anon, I love your mind. This request is so fuckin cute and I love it. But I must admit, I feel I dropped the ball on this one, I hope you enjoy it at least a little nonetheless🫶🏻 edit: guys im working on a part 2, but its probably gonna take me a while because the idea of writing smut STRESSES me out, so bare with me

Pairing: Erik Campbell x Male!Reader

Warnings: none, just descriptions of a piercing.

Contents: Erik in down right gay panic, that's it.

Wc; 1.3k

Erik was stuck closing, again. He hadn't had a client in 2 hours, and he was about to lose his mind. He'd cleaned the tattoo chair more times than he could count, just wanting something to do with his hands. Changed his playlist at least 5 times, no song seemed to fix his boredom.

Until you walked in. Now Erik had plenty of guys walk into the shop, sure. But not like you. Most of the guys walking in here wanted some ugly ass patriotic tattoo that he hated drawing up and putting onto someone's skin forever, or guys wanting their girlfriends name that they'd come back and ask him to cover up in a few weeks. You didnt look like any of those guys.

Erik stood up from where he sat on the stool behind the counter, slamming his knee on the glass in the process. Fuck. He quickly leaned against the counter and tried to play it off, ignoring the throbbing pain in his knee as you approached the counter.

"How can I help you?"

You'd given him a smile and hummed like you came in here with no idea what you wanted, just knew you wanted something. "Im thinking of getting my tongue pierced. Been too long since I changed something."

"Hot." He'd meant to think it, not say it aloud. Now he felt like an idiot. "I mean like hot for the ladies- you know? Girls love that shit, right?" He cleared his throat and mentally cursed himself, "Anyway, let me see some ID, And I'll have you fill this out for me and we'll get started."

He slid a clipboard your way, the usual paperwork so he didnt end up getting sued by some idiot who didnt know what they were signing up for. Not that he thought you were an idiot. He thought you were the most intriguing person he'd ever seen.

You slid your ID across the counter and took the clipboard from him, smiling as you did, "Yes but no. Girls arent the ones I'm trying to impress." Oh. Oh. He had to think about something else. Anything else. Anything but the fact the most gorgeous guy he'd ever seen confirming he's into other guys.

You thanked him quietly and moved to sit in a chair and fill everything out. After looking over your ID, Erik walked over to clean the tattoo chair once again, even though he knew he didn't need to since he'd cleaned it too many times already. He just needed something to do to avoid staring like a creep.

You handed him the clipboard once you'd finished filling everything out, clearly this wasn't your first time. Judging by how quickly you'd filled it out. Now he was dying to know what other piercings you had, none he could see. Belly piercing? Nipple piercing? Or.. no. Can't think about that shit rightnow.

Erik nodded and put the clipboard aside for now, double checking he had everything set up. "Alright, sit down for me." He sighed, sitting on his stool by the tattoo chair and putting on his usual latex gloves. Unfortunately for him, he had to get up close and personal now. Great.

He watched you sit down in front of him and tried his hardest not to stare, no matter how much he wanted to. Wanted to admire the flawless being in front of him. Had to be professional. He took a deep breath and slid his stool closer, slamming one of the wheels into the tray beside him in the process, too distracted by your presence suddenly so close to him. "Fucks sake- I'm sorry, those late nights you know?"

He adjusted the tray and sighed, turning his attention back to you, freezing as he noticed the look on your face. Like you were trying your hardest not to laugh at him. He gave you a playful scoff and leaned back a bit, "I'm about to put a needle through your tongue and you're laughing at me. Wise choice". Not that he really cared, you had a nice smile. If him being an idiot is what it took to see it, then so be it.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. You just seem so nervous, if I didn't know any better I'd think you've never done this before." Your tone was teasing, you weren't actually accusing him of anything.

"Me? Nervous? I'm never nervous, just tired. This is the third time this week my boss has called me in and failed to mention I'd be closing up." He used that usual flat, almost bored tone he used with his clients. But he wasn't bored. Far from it. "Alright, stick your tongue out for me so we can get this done for you."

As you stuck out your tongue, Erik grabbed his pen and marked the spot to make sure the piercing was centered, before grabbing the clamp and lining it up and grabbing the needle.

"Alright deep breath in, 1 2.." He put the needle through and tried to ignore the small sound that escaped you, tried to ignore how he wanted to hear it again. In his ear maybe. "3.. good boy." Again, he meant to think that. Not say it, he'd meant to say good job. Once again, he looks like an idiot. Or a creep. He'd rather be an idiot. He made a mental note to think before he speaks more often.

He ignored the embarrassment for now and moved to put the jewelry in and slide the needle out, dropping it into his jar to be disposed of later.

You closed your mouth as he finished the piercing, trying to get used to the feeling of the metal bar in your mouth. "Good boy, huh? You say that to all your clients? Or just the ones who make you nervous?" That teasing voice again.

Erik shook his head, pulling off his gloves and throwing them away. Fine, if he wants to tease, so can I.

"No. Just you."

But you didn't miss a beat, of course not. "Yeah? I like the sound of that. I like when hot guys call me good boy. Especially with a voice like yours."

Oh. Wow, okay. He wasn't expecting you to come back that strong. Erik wasn't sure why he felt this way, he'd never felt this way about a guy before. Not really anyway. He'd kissed a few guys in the past just because someone said he wouldn't. But it wasn't.. in a romantic way- it was just to be funny. But the things he wanted to do to you were far from funny.

He got up to grab your ID from the counter and handed it back to you, ignoring the fact his hands were slightly shaking. "Then you should come back and see me sometime."

You smirked, putting your ID back in your wallet and pulling your phone from your pocket, unlocking it to open your contacts and open a blank one, handing it over to him "Or you could give me your number and I can come see you after you close up and go home?"

Oh fuck. Okay, Erik you got this. This is just a hot guy asking for your number. No problem. Nothing you cant handle.

He tried to keep his cocky attitude, taking the phone from your hand and putting his number in, being extra careful as he handed it back, terrified he'd drop it. "I look forward to it."

You'd just saved the contact and smiled, putting your phone back in your pocket and finally getting up, walking over to the door to leave after putting what you owed him on the counter, "Yeah, me too."

Erik let out a scoff of disbelief as you left, "I look forward to it? Who the fuck says that? Idiot, idiot.."

He started his process of closing up shop, cleaning everything and making sure everything was in its place. Totally not checking his phone every few seconds to see if you'd texted. Not at all.

Right as he was locking up and ready to drive home, he felt his phone go off in his pocket and he practically tripped over himself to check it, almost dropping his phone in the process.

Unknown number.

"Let me know when you're home"

Erik had never driven home so fast in his life.

#emson writes♡#emsons asks♡#erik campbell #erik campbell x reader #final destination #final destination bloodlines #pride month #pride #lgbt

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cloudedangels · 3 days ago

Text

Extended Leave ♡ (PT 2) 18+

Read Part One ♡

▪︎ Fem!Caleb x Fem!Reader ▪︎ AU ▪︎ 18+ No minors pls ▪︎ inspired by this drabble I wrote on my other acc ▪︎ 2,293 words

fic playlist 🎧

She heard you last night. You know. She knows you know that she knows. You wake up without her. Something's gone missing. But she's not going to mention it. It's like she's waiting for you to snap or maybe she's wanting you forget...

Tags/cws: fem!Caleb, fem!reader, AU, pilot!caleb, childhood friends to whatever this is, slow burn, domestic intimacy, teen years flashback, soft butch x soft femme, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, quiet yearning, hurt/comfort, fluff?, tension and tenderness, soft dom!Caleb, sapphic romance, military leave, found family, period comfort, implied masturbation, repressed desire, emotional intimacy, subtle possessiveness, soft angst, slice of life, bed sharing, love languages (acts of service), fem!caleb the panty bandit, she's a perv of the highest degree—understand and expect it, fem!caleb barely hiding the level of her obsession–for now >;), she's a lowkey yandere

The next morning, when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the emptiness in the right side of your bed. You grab your phone to see that it's eleven in the morning, and you already got one of Caleb's classic texts half an hour ago. Your heart skips as you open it.

you usually don't wake up before noon, so i will be back then

but if you do, don't freak out! i just went to the gym and the store.

i'll be back all sweaty and with gifts (／▽＼)♪

also laundry is already done and in folded into your drawers

pls close ur conditioner if u shower again (｀_´メ)

♡ jie jie ♡

You let out a breathy laugh at her messages. So she's not going to talk about last night again? It only takes a small scroll upwards to see her messages from the night before and your cheeks grow exponentially hotter.

Let me help next time. (≡・x・≡)

Classic Caleb. She'll tease you like this and then disappear. Act like nothing even happened. It's the same way she acted after the first time she kissed you.

☆☆☆☆☆

You were 14. She was 16. You'd gone with her to this party one of her friends from the varsity girls’ basketball team was having. She said you were too serious. Needed to learn to have more fun. You didn't play sports, but you went to every one of Caleb's games and eventually everyone knew you as Caleb's yes-girl and cheerleader, a title you wore with pride. You'd been saying how she never let you into her cool-girl world. So she brought you along.

Your crush was there. The lanky guy from the JV boys’ team. You were lab partners and he was relatively nice in class, nice to look at too—that was all a crush needed, you thought. When a group announced they'd be playing a frankenmesh of truth or dare and spin the bottle, you looked over longingly. Caleb took one look at you, you looked up at her, and in a split second she grabbed your hand and pulled you over with the rest of them.

“C’mon I'll go with you, if you want to do it we'll do it together.”

JV boy went first and your breath stopped when the bottle stopped at you, like a movie. You felt Caleb tense next to you. There was a short yet suspended moment between, where you wondered: would he kiss you, pick a truth or a dare?

Then he made a face. A disgusted face to be precise. But he leaned in anyway, with no time for you to process and kissed you before wiping his lips and muttering “gross”. You weren't even thinking as you got up and ran out through the back porch's screen door, tears singing in the corner of your eyes, Caleb trailing behind you.

“Mei mei, wait up!”

Your back was against the side of the house, your chest heaving up and down as tears you were trying to suck back in streamed down your face. The November air was too cool against your skin and it made you shiver.

Caleb appeared in front of you almost instantly, hands on either of your shoulders begging you to look at her.

“Hey, look at me, pipsqueak, that guy's nothing, you hear me? Boys are dumb—you can't let that get to you. He was probably trying to impress some other bitch, don't think about it too deep.”

None of that cheered you up, you started crying harder. She grabbed your face then. Two hands on either cheek forcing you to look at her. Her shoulder-length hair shaggy and brushing the tops of her shoulders.

“Close your eyes for me. Don't open until I say so, alright?”

You sniffled out a snot-nosed okay and closed them, confused at what she was trying to do. You felt the sleeves of her varsity jacket wipe your gross face, the sudden weight of it as she placed it over your shoulders. Felt her kiss on your temple. Then, like it was meant to happen, you felt her lips, soft and careful, on yours. Your heart almost stuttered its way out through your throat and your eyes flew open. As fast as it happened it was over.

“That was just so you’d know what it should feel like. Okay? You don't deserve to feel like that."

When you blinked at her, dumbfounded and a little confused, she shrugged it off.

“Don’t make it weird. I just wanted you to know. You can keep that jacket if you want. It looks better in you anyway, and it's cold, mei mei."

Then just like that, she grabbed your hand and she drove you back to her grandmother's house. Like the party never mattered anyway.

She never brought it up again, but she was gone in the morning. Texted you that she had to take care of something, came back in the early afternoon, and asked to watch a movie with you. The next day in class, your lab partner came back with two black eyes, a split lip, a refusal to tell anyone how he got them, and an inability to look you in the eyes. But you knew.

☆☆☆☆☆

You sit up and rub the heels of your palms into your eyes and will yourself to get out of bed.

“God, I hate her.” You don't. There's clothes laid out on the end of your bed, for after your shower you guess. A pair of jean shorts and a cute blue t-shirt. Looking at it the thought almost passes before you catch it.

‘The shirt's the same shade as—’ Your face goes hot again. You look in the drawers where she said she put your laundry. It's all so neat, reorganized, and color-coded. That's what makes it obvious. The sky-blue panties from last night aren't there. You run to your bathroom and check the laundry basket, your heart rate erratic and impossibly warm in the face. Nothing. It's empty.

You think about her hands touching them, you think of her laying in bed while you struggled to muffle your moans in your late night shower. You think of her texts.

trying to make me crazy…

let me help you….

“Fuck, Caleb. What are you doing to me?” You whisper out loud. Barely loud enough to even hear yourself. You brush your teeth and splash as much cold water as you can onto your face before walking into the kitchen. It's strange without her here, telling you to eat some elaborate curated-just-for-you meal. The air conditioner and the refrigerator hum as if to replace the sound of her shuffling around in her absence.

You open the fridge and the first thing you notice is a glass Tupperware with a sticky note on top.

I made you these ⚡️reheat 22 seconds if you're hungry ⚡️

rice is in rice cooker. should be warm!

♡, C xx

There's two badly drawn cats on it that make you laugh because they're obviously supposed to be the two of you.

Soy eggs!~ You don't bother warming them up but you eat them cold with chopsticks eating rice directly out of the rice cooker. ‘How does she manage to be everywhere at once?’ You wonder, but the food is so good it's hard to care.

You catch a glance at her unopened duffel on the couch. You could open it, see if… if what? If she took your underwear and put them in her duffel bag? You shake your head, and instead put her hoodie on. She left it lying on the back of the couch, and as you pull it over your head you notice that it smells good. Like her. Like her muscle balm and lavender deodorant, mixed with your body wash. You sneak an inhale, pulling it to your nose and telling yourself it's nothing.

But it smells so good…

You startle at the sound of an opening door. It's exactly 11:50, and Caleb's walking in. Shiny and strong, with bags and more bags in both of her arms.

“You're up early, pips. Trying to impress me?”

She's already zooming through the kitchen plugging items in their place, barely acting like you're even there. You clear your throat.

“Um… Thank you for cooking, the eggs were really good.”

You sound like a much smaller version of yourself than you mean to. She whips around and you get your first bagless look at her. She's glistening with sweat, sports bra and basketball shorts, her abs shiny and washboard-impressive. She's got the laziest smirk on her face. She walks over to you swiping a little pink gift bag off of the counter.

She leans in too close to you with one hand flat on the countertop and the other dangling the bag above you. She's so close you could… oh god. Even her sweat smells intoxicating and confusing.

“Of course I cooked for you, who would I be if I let you starve in a cold bed?” She coos low and saturated, still too close.

“I got you something.”

She dangles the bag just a bit too high for you to grab. You reach for it and she pulls it higher.

“Ah ah ah!~ Nope. You have to promise not to open it until the next time I go out, mmkay?”

“You're a sadist.” You mumble.

“Ah yes, a sadist who waits on you hand n foot, there are plenty of those…”

You stick your tongue out as if it's easy to be this silly with her chest and her bicep in your face.

“Ugh fine, you bossy bitch,” you retort. It comes out sharper than you meant for it to but she just grins even wider regardless.

“Woof.” She hands you the bag then.

There's a frozen moment. She's looking at you like it's a dare. You look in her violet eyes and you can't help but wonder what she's seeing. You feel like a cornered prey animal, and your eyes flick across her face. Eyes, lips, eyes again. You still can't read her expression. There's something underneath it, that you know. But what? You look away and turn to take the bag when she grabs you by the wrist and whips you around.

“Didn’t know ovulation was hitting you that hard, mei mei.”

“Keep looking at me like that and I’d think you wanted me.~”

Your jaw falls slack in… shock? Yes, shock.

“I-I'm not—”

She scoffs, her hands still gripping your wrist almost too tight.

“You definitely are, but whatever. I'll take those red cheeks as a compliment.”

“You're... intense, Caleb.” You practically whisper it.

“Tell me I'm wrong, then,” she challenges.

There's another frozen moment before you yank away your arm and shake your hand out, nervously blurting the words, “You're sweaty. You should shower.”

She bursts out laughing at that. “Not before I get my sweaty… preshower…. hugggg.”

Your face lights as she starts to open her arms, and you quickly put down the gift bag and dodge to the other side of the counter. “Gross!”

And suddenly you're kids again. She's chasing you in circles around the kitchen, long arms and grabby hands. You run almost too fast, half-tripping over your own bare feet when you barrel towards the bedroom and hop onto the bed as she chases you.

The two of you are wrestling like you did when you were kids and she'd say, "Kicking is CHEATING, mei mei!” And you would say, “Not when you're stronger, you ANIMAL!”

And here you are, giggling with a pillow between you and your feet in defence mode, as she's squealing and laughing with you. Eventually you feel yourself getting tired, a losing fight.

And just like that, with just that little bit of give, in your second of catching your breath, she's got you. Pinned under her, then wrapped tight in her arms, then spun around. You're on top of her, trapped in her iron embrace with her lying beneath you. Your face is buried in her chest. You stop laughing before she does, her giggles shaking through her, through you.

She rests her chin at the top of your head, her grip loosening a bit as you feel her inhale. You take that opportunity to get more comfortable and look at her, squirming a little to get into a better position. Her head buries into your neck.

She hums. “You smell good, pips.”

“N-no, it's probably your hoodie, I haven't showered yet, either. I didn't know when you'd be back and… I didn't want to use up the hot water.”

Her laugh sounds… pleased. “Hmm, so we're both gross. I’d almost think you wanted to shower with me, then.”

You don't have time to cover up your gasp before she's flipped you over and gotten up. She's already headed towards the door with you on the bed. Her back is towards you as she walks out, and her shorts have ridden down a bit—enough for you to see it—an unmistakable band of sky-blue lace.

She whips her head back in that sly, charming way of hers before she leaves the room.

“I’ll be quick. Don’t sweat.”

She heads into the shower, leaving you on the bed. You're flushed, aching, and unsure if you’re more or less sane than when she walked in earlier. You press your palms to your cheeks... as if it’ll cool the flush that hasn’t gone away since she walked in. You can still smell her on the hoodie you're wearing. You can still feel her… not on your skin, but underneath it, spreading herself into places you’ve tried to keep safe. But what from? How?

Tags 🏷: @chewbrry @grlpartdoll @jetterdonna

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series lmk in comments or reblogs! (Must have age in bio)

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http-tokki · 3 days ago

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weird script/conversation between you and himbo bestie jayce. idk, im just tryna get back into writing bestie jayce x reader plus hints at viktor x reader

“Hey, can I ask you a weird question?”

“All your questions are weird, but sure.”

Jayce looks up from his packed lunch, eyes wide with inquisition as he waits for your so-called weird question.

“Umm.. Do you…” your voice catches, throat thick with nerves. “Do you know if Viktor is single?”

Jayce freezes mid bite, fork still on the way to his mouth as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Why?” he stretches the word as if buying time to come up with his own conclusion.

“I'm just interested.” you shrug, turning your attention back to your lunch, spearing the potatoes with your fork.

“Just interested or interested?” Jayce carefully places his fork to his bowl, brows now furrowed in confusion.

“Is there a difference?” you don’t look up from your plate.

Jayce nods despite your inattention. “Well, yes. Just interested implies that you are merely interested in information about him but interested alludes that you are interested in him.”

You purse your lips but remain silent and staring at your food as if deep in thought over the next piece of vegetable to choose from your lunch.

“So are you?”

Finally, you look up. “Am I what?”

“Interested.” Jayce clarifies.

“Depends on the answer.”

It’s Jayce’s turn to look away, his own thoughts racing as your question rolls over and over and over in his mind. Why would you be asking? What would you do with the information once attained? Were you working for something bigger? Had you been employed by someone else who did not have the relationship you had with Jayce? Or was this endeavour for knowledge self serving?

“Jayce.” his name drags him back to reality and he looks up from his lunch. “Is he?” you pose the question again, afraid he has gotten distracted and forgot.

“Is he what?” Jayce blinks, thoughts a mile away.

“Single.” you sigh, jaw clenching as you take in a calming breath. Gods, this kid would be the death of you.

“Ohh, yeah. He is.” He nods, still not fully present in the conversation. “Why?”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” you snap, shaking your head at the circle you are caught in. It was a simple question yet nothing about his answering process was.

“No. Why are you asking?” he presses.

“Jayce, did you get hit in the head? How are you not getting this-” genuine concern starts to cloud your judgement because he should not be this confused.

“Why are you asking me? There’s no reason to unless someone else wants to know but you don’t talk to anyone else and you can’t be interested, you’re not into-?” Your friend begins to ramble, picking up speed like a rock down a hill.

“Not into what?” you cut him off, staring at him unsure of where he was going with that point.

“Guys.” Jayce looks at you as if it was the most obvious ending to his sentence.

It’s your turn to blink at him, stunned by his accusation.

“Are you…?” He asks, hesitantly, terrified of the answer.

“Into men? Yes!” it comes out louder than you intended but the park is empty and this is something that you felt needed to be shouted for your friend to get the point.

“How was I meant to know!? Look at how you dress!!” Jayce shouts back, pointing at you from across the table.

You look down at your body, the usual jeans and shirt nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that screamed lesbian so why would he assume it?

“The pants and the shoes! You wear that clip on your belt loop, and I don’t think I've ever seen you in a dress! Plus, I’ve heard the way you talk about men, why would I think that you were anything but-” He trails off, afraid to continue as he sees your pointed glare.

“Just because I wear jeans to work doesn’t mean I'm a lesbian! Gods, Jayce.”

“That’s not the only thing but-”

“You’ve known me for how many years now? Three? You’ve seen me make out a guy before!” you shouldn’t be as offended as you are but it’s laughable to believe that inside his big genius brain, he couldn’t comprehend that a woman can wear jeans and converse and not be lesbian.

“I just thought it was a drunken thing,” he shrugs, voice small, looking at you with sad, puppy eyes, begging for your forgiveness. “You never mentioned it, and I didn’t wanna ask in case it was a thing you weren’t ready to talk about.”

That was sweet. Despite him being a bit of a dumbass, he was sweet in his own stupid way.

“You know, for someone who is as smart as you, you’re really stupid.”

—---

Jayce strolls into his office twenty minutes later, head held high and eyes bright with his newfound information. This was going to rock Viktor’s world. The three of you had been friends for a few months now, having hung out occasionally after work, even going on errands last weekend before going out for dinner. Never once did Jayce think you looked at his friend that way. If anything, you almost ignored him. Afraid to talk around him, never really looking at him, hyper aware of your movements around him as if you didn't want to be touched by a man….ohhh.

“Hey, Vik, guess what?” Jayce announces as he walks into the lab, his partner bent over the desk working through a new equation.

“I do not like these games, you know this.” Viktor mutters, too enrapt in his work to look up. “Just tell me what it is.”

“Nah, you’ve gotta guess.” Jayce beams, all but bounding over with excitement.

Viktor sighs and pushes away from the desk, chair rolling away with a sharp grate against the floor. “First clue.” He has played his game too many times before.

“It’s about Honey.” Jayce waggles his brows suggestively, and it does not go unnoticed by the other.

“You kissed her?” Viktor asks, uninterested in the current topic and glances back at his notebook.

“Nope but it is along those lines.”

“You slept with her?” Viktor is beyond indifferent as he sighs.

“Eww, no.” Jayce cringes. “But turns out she would be into that.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s into guys.” Jayce drops the bomb, excited to finally see Viktor shocked for once but no reaction comes from his partner.

“And…?”

“There is no and. That’s it. She’s into dudes.” Jayce sighs, throwing his hands in the air.

Viktor frowns. “I know.”

“You know!?” Jayce exclaims, pinning Viktor with an incredulous look as if he had just told him the world started spinning backwards.

“Yes. We ended up talking at that party you dragged us to a few months ago, remember? the one where you went off with Mel?”

“So you’ve just been holding out on this information? What did you talk about?” Jayce glares, scrutinising his partner’s every move.

Viktor inhales, as if to steady his voice. “We talked about ourselves and our lives and how we had come to find you as a friend. We kissed a few times, it was really nice. She is a very pretty girl, I will admit that.” Viktor can’t help the soft smile at the memories of your lips on his.

“You kissed her?” Jayce is dumbfounded, jaw on the floor as his entire world spins.

“Yes.”

“Are you talking?”

“Occasionally as friends, yes. Why? Is that an issue for you?”

Jayce shakes his head, taking in a deep breath to steady his racing thoughts. His two closest friends had kissed, had been talking and now you were asking if Viktor was single? Is he truly this oblivious to the world around him?

“Did you like the kiss?” Jayce finally asks.

Viktor waits for a moment, debating on how to answer and opts for the truth. “Yes. Very much so. Why are you so interested in this? Have I overstepped?”

“No. Not at all.” Jayce chuckles to himself, rubbing at his jaw, already planning out the entirety of your relationship with Viktor.

Oh you would never hear the end of this.

“I know someone who likes you.”

---

a/n: this is possibly the stupidest fucking thing I've ever written but I'm getting back into writing and just needed something stupid and today at work I got told I dress like a lesbian (I can't fault them cause I kinda dress like adam sandler and yk if I saw me I'd also think I was lgtv like i am but less wuh-luh-wuh more wuh-luh-wuh-and-muh yk) but anyway, thought it would be pretty funny to have this interaction with himbo bestie jayce

#http tokki #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #viktor arcane #viktor x you #viktor fluff #viktor x you fluff #viktor x reader fluff #viktor arcane x you #viktor ar #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor

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threegoldfish · 1 day ago

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Words are spoken, steps slowing until they both come to a halt - and Marc blinks again, turns his head to face that doctor next to him, looking into those brighter eyes that appear so much more human here, at this very moment.

Less professional, more casual. Harrow's words are as well - talking about having been at the wrong place at the wrong time, mentioning a border town, talks about Marc being... strong.

Is he? In his own humble (self-hating) opinion, Marc is everything but strong - just... kept pushing on, kept functioning, kept taking step after step and day after day, month after month, year after year. Kept doing so because he had to, because there was no other way for him to do this - to handle his life, his existence, everything he'd gone through.

... Without Steven, he probably wouldn't be here anymore. If it weren't for this man to exist, to live a happy, normal life, to allow Marc to see that it still exists somewhere - that, despite all the pain, all the horrible things that have happened, there's still something good out there... A soul that wants to live, that wants to reach something in this shitty life and make the best of it.

Marc isn't alone, that's what kept him from ending it all. Steven had been there for him ever since... ever since Randall had died in that cave. Had helped him to live, had protected him without even knowing that Marc exists in the first place.

So... does that make him strong, all of this? Isn't that actually making him a failure, useless, as he wouldn't be able to keep existing like this if it weren't for that other one living inside his head?

---Harrow doesn't know about Steven, so he cannot take him into consideration. Perhaps his opinion were different if he only knew...

A swallow, a dark gaze that finally falls away from the doctor's eyes - bloody lips pressing together, brows furrowing, something rather emotional and sad appearing there beneath all the crimson, the pulsing of his nose and temple, the taste of iron. The very same lips part then again, because Marc cannot breathe otherwise - he blinks a few times, glances to the side, his messy hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt - messing it up even further in the process, fingers leaving streaks of red behind...

It is all your fault!

"...Perhaps I'm just stubborn." A statement - just that, really. "Not strong, just... just stubborn."

Another slow blink, with Marc turning his head away completely. It's so hard to... accept this, the words the other has offered him here. They feel good, but at the same time, there's just so much shit still sticking to Marc - shit that keeps pulling on him, a lot of guilt, so much guilt and fault and things he fucked up...

It is all your fault!

Randall died because of him. His comrade died because of him.

"... ---Stubborn and guilty."

... He begins to take a few steps again. Doesn't know where he's supposed to go, but... following that damn hallway sounds good enough for now. He's slow as he moves, but he just... he just needs to move, feels too vulnerable otherwise. Too... too seen, if that makes sense at all.

He wants to be seen, and yet he doesn't want to be seen at the same time. Fucking bullshit that is.

"...---I'm sorry 'bout that border town thing." Randomly mentioned, but he means it. "It's awful. Been there many times." ... "You know, a plant or would look nice in here."

Arthur didn’t interrupt, again finding comfort in the fact that Marc was willing to speak to him. There was something human in it, something raw and untouchable; it was trust. A trust that had been built quickly, that Arthur respected - one that he didn’t want to harm in any way.

Marc’s statement, saying that he was so scared, pushed something deeper. Arthur’s expression broke, his eyebrows pinching harder, his mouth softening. He exhaled gently, nodding once more; his hand almost touched Marc, but he chose against it.

“I would have been scared, too,” he agreed. “Anyone would have.” He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would have been, to be in that situation. To wake up with no memory, with nothing but the evidence of what had happened; in such a gruesome way, too. That event alone was more than enough to cause trauma in all of the worst forms.

“You asked me once if I’d ever been in the field,” Arthur offered. “I wasn’t a soldier, I couldn’t handle those sorts of things. But I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

He offered Marc a glance, a smile, though not much more. “I was in a border town. Dangerous place to be, I’m sure you know. It was over in a day, but… I didn’t handle it well. Not for a long time.”

His cane continued to tap as he walked, though his pace had slowed some as his focus switched to their conversation. “But you… you lived through that fear every day. You got up, and you kept moving. That’s not weakness. That’s more strength than most people in this building have. More than I have, certainly.”

He stopped just a moment, enough to hopefully get Marc to stop as well. He looked the man directly in the eyes, his blue ones just as gentle as the rest of him. “You are one of the strongest men I’ve ever met, Marc. Not because of the fights, or the training, or the uniform - but because I think that this is the first time in your life that it’s truly overwhelmed you.”

He watched Marc’s face, just for a second, looking over him. Taking in how he looked, how he seemed unbothered even by having blood all over his face, possibly a snapped nose; he’d had the shit beaten out of him, and yet he was still standing here, talking as if it didn’t matter.

“Being overwhelmed after everything that you’ve been through doesn’t make you wrong or bad. Breaking down doesn’t make you weak. You’ve carried more than anyone ever could - what happened was because of that. And none of that - none of it - was your fault. This would have happened to anyone.”

It would get better, not that Marc would believe it if Arthur told him. But it would get better slowly; the pain would fade, Marc would remember life without the memory of this dragging him down. All he needed was time and healing.

#preemptivejustice #threads & interactions; marc spector #(... didnt someone else mention a plant before :)) )#(also marc feeling vulnerable :( )

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earthlyangelbby · 1 day ago

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Hi!! So I saw ur reqs are open and I was wondering if you could do a oneshot or blurb abt Eddie Munson as like some sort of Frankenstein's creature or something that escaped from Hawkins lab and fem!reader (or gn!reader) finds him in the woods and nurses him back to health or something and eventually they end up falling for one another and like fluffy shit ensues idk. Ty even if you can't get to it! <3 P.S love your writing!

I commissioned @tubesock86 for a little visual of Eddie Frankenstein creature here wordcount:5k

CW: Mentions of abuse, mentions of eating/starving, a broken little guy. AN: I did struggle to write this and so much of Eddie is his voice and dialog so when you take that away and add more trauma on top it changes the character a bit but I did try my best!! So I hope you enjoy :) Sorry it took me so long I felt you deserved justice for such a cool request!! But if you don't maybe you can anjoy the awesome art I got from tubesock86 It's just the old farmhouse your dad left you, creaking and quiet at the end of a long gravel road, tucked deep enough into the woods that the world feels like it’s miles away. Today, you finally let yourself unwind. You’ve got a little weed in your pocket, a playlist queued up, and a plan to walk into the woods, breathe, and maybe feel something close to peace.

You take the long way into the woods, following the trail your dad used to call the deer path, though you’ve never seen a single one. The joint burns low between your fingers, and the music in your headphones hums something dreamy and slow as the warm summer air clings to your skin. You’re halfway to the stream when you see movement, just off the trail. A figure. You freeze. At first, you think maybe it’s a wounded animal, the way it lurches and drags itself, but then it lifts its head, and your breath catches. It’s a man. Or at least, he was.

He’s slumped against a tree, limbs too long and stitched with metal staples, thick and silver and jagged, holding together angry gashes across his arms, his chest, his temple. His dark hair is matted, and there’s something wild and not-quite-right in his eyes. He looks like he’s been ripped apart and put back together by someone who didn’t care if he survived the process. You don’t even realize you’ve dropped your joint. His mouth opens, but no words come, just the sound of effort, air, pain. You should run. You know that. But you don’t. Because when he lifts his trembling hand toward yours, you step closer. And when his fingers brush yours, desperate and unsure, you feel it something protective coils up in your gut, hot and sudden. The first fat drop of rain splashes on your cheek, and then the sky splits open. Without thinking, you take his hand and whisper, “Come with me hun.”

The rain doesn't let up as you guide him across the yard, both of you soaked through by the time you reach the porch. He stumbles more than once, and each time, your arm is there, holding him up. He’s heavy with exhaustion, with something deeper than that like whatever kept him going finally let go when he saw you. When you get the door open, he hesitates like he’s not sure he’s allowed inside, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. But you don’t. You tug him gently across the threshold, and just like that, he’s in your house.

That’s when it hits you. You brought a man. a stranger into your home. Your heartbeat stutters, chest tight with the weight of it. Every instinct you’ve ever had about safety flares, begging you to be cautious. But then you look at him again, mud and blood caked to his skin, the angry wounds stapled shut like someone didn't care how much it hurt and all you can think is: he needs help. And you’re the only one here to give it.

“Okay hun let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you say softly, your voice trembling just enough to hear. He doesn’t answer, just blinks at you with wide, uncertain eyes. You lead him down the hall and into the bathroom, flipping the light on and adjusting the old faucet until the shower sputters to life, steaming. You show him the soaps gently, slowly, like talking to someone who’s come from another world and place a towel on the hook. His clothes are shredded beyond repair, stinking of damp earth and whatever he crawled out of. You grab an old set of your dad’s sweatpants, a tee-shirt, a worn flannel and leave them on the counter.

When you glance back, he’s standing in the doorway like he doesn’t know what to do next. He touches the towel with shaking fingers. His mouth opens again, but still no words, just a breath. A sound. His eyes flick to yours, soft with something like gratitude. You give a small smile and say, “Take your time.” Then you step out and close the door, your heart pounding, your mind racing, but somewhere underneath it all is the quiet, steady truth: you don’t want him to be alone.

He emerges from the bathroom wrapped in steam and wearing your father’s old clothes, the fabric hanging a little loose on his tall frame. His skin is cleaner now, the grime washed away, though the bruises and half-healed wounds are still stark against him. But his hair it’s still a mess. Thick, dark tangles matted at the roots, some strands knotted like they’ve been neglected for weeks. Maybe longer.

You motion gently toward him. “Can I help with your hair?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, he stiffens, eyes wide with something between fear and embarrassment. You hold up your hands in surrender, slow and patient. “Only if it’s okay,” you murmur. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

He doesn’t answer with words he can’t but after a long pause, he nods once, slow and cautious. You lead him to sit in front of the couch, grabbing your old detangling comb and the leave-in conditioner you keep under the sink for your own curls. You kneel behind him, heart in your throat, and start at the ends, working through each snarl with the care of someone unwrapping something sacred.

You go slowly. Deliberately. Every tug is softened with your fingers, every knot worked through with patience. You’re hyper aware of the way he breathes, how his shoulders rise and fall under your hands. He doesn’t flinch, just sits still, as if he’s waiting for it to hurt. But it doesn’t. Not from you.

After a while, his posture shifts. He leans into your touch not much, just enough to let you feel it. And then he hums. A soft, low sound, somewhere between relief and comfort. It’s the first sound from him that isn’t fear or pain, and it slips into your chest like warmth. You don’t stop. You just keep untangling, your fingers moving with reverence, as if touching him too roughly might undo all the fragile trust hanging in the quiet air between you. Once the last knot is freed, you smooth your fingers through the strands, marveling at how soft his hair is beneath the clean. It falls past his shoulders in uneven waves, thick and wild, and you can’t help but smile a little as you separate it into sections. “My dad used to braid my hair every night when I was little,” you tell him, your voice low and easy, like you’re afraid to startle him. “Even when his hands were tired from work.”

You don’t know if he understands, but he stays still as you begin to braid, your fingers working with the quiet rhythm of memory. Over-under, over-under, just like back then. He doesn’t move except to breathe, and when you tie off the end with one of your old elastic bands, he turns his head just enough to glance back at you.

“Feel better?” you ask softly, brushing a loose piece away from his cheek.

He nods. Not a small twitch of his head, but a real one this time slow and certain, like a scared child trying to be brave. His eyes meet yours, and the fear still lingers there, but it’s softer now. Dampened. The kind of fear that’s lived in someone too long and doesn’t know how to leave. The sight of it, in eyes so dark and beautiful and broken, cracks something in you. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat.

“Are you hungry?” you ask next, and before the last syllable leaves your lips, he’s nodding again fast, almost frantic. Like he’s afraid if he waits too long, you might change your mind.

You head to the kitchen, it's a bit barren. You’d just settled in. Here you were trying to sort all of your father’s affairs. It's been 3 months since he passed and you just now had the gumption to move back and start sorting. Luckily there's a bit of milk left from your quick trip this morning and many boxes of cereal left over from your dad’s obsession. So you grab a bow and fill it with Frankenberry then pour the milk. “Okay, so it’s not exactly gourmet,” you say over your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood, “but it gets the job done.”

Behind you, there’s a puff of breath, quick and amused and when you turn, you catch it: a wide, genuine smile, creasing his cheeks and softening his whole face. He breathes out through his nose like he’s trying not to laugh, but it’s there. He thinks you’re funny. And somehow, that single smile makes everything the storm, the fear, the mystery of who he is just a little easier to bear.

He eats like he’s been starving for years head down, shoulders tense, spoon moving so fast you barely see it. He doesn’t stop until the bowl’s empty, and even then, he looks like he’s bracing to be told that’s all he gets. You offer him more, and at first, he shakes his head, like he doesn’t deserve more. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I want you to have it.” That’s all it takes. He takes it and finishes it just as quickly.

You wash the dishes while he watches silently, then dry your hands and nod toward the hallway. “Come on, hun.” He follows without hesitation.

The guest room is just across from yours, simple, clean, with fresh sheets and the scent of old wood and fabric softener in the air. You flick on the lamp and motion to the bed. “You can stay here. For as long as you need. Until you’re safe.”

He looks at the bed like he doesn’t know what to do with it, like he’s waiting for a trap. So you step forward, pull back the covers, and pat the mattress gently. “It’s okay, hun.” you murmur. “It’s yours.”

He moves slowly and sits on the edge. You pull the blanket over him like he’s something fragile, something precious, and his whole body softens at the attention. There’s still fear in his eyes, but it’s dimmer now buried under something that might be relief. Maybe even hope.

This little rhythm becomes your life, quiet meals, soft words, careful gestures. He doesn’t speak, barely more than the occasional hum or nod, but he stays close. Follows you from room to room like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he looks away. And outside, the rain doesn’t stop. It pounds the roof for five straight days, some of the worst storms Hawkins has seen in years. Roads flood, the power flickers, and the world beyond your old farmhouse feels a hundred miles away.

In the quiet moments, you think about how strange it all is. How just days before you found him, there was that explosion at Hawkins Lab. The kind of boom that shook windows and lit up the sky like a second sun. Everyone’s been talking about it on the radio, rumors bouncing around town. Something about another cover-up. Another accident. But you hadn’t given it much thought.

Not until now. Not until this man with his stitched-up skin and haunted eyes showed up out of nowhere.

It’s the fifth day of rain and fifth day of him, and something feels different. He’s been mostly silent, just those soft gasps and heavy breaths, but today today, you catch it. A quiet, trembling voice that barely rises above the storm outside.

“Thank you.”

The words slip out like a fragile secret, so hushed you almost miss them. You stop what you’re doing, heart skipping. He looks at you then, eyes wide and searching, like he’s testing to see if you heard him right. And you did. You heard him. He lifts a trembling hand, fingers trembling as he gestures toward the jagged, sewn-up slash on his neck. His voice barely a whisper, fragile and raw, he says, “Hurts less now.” You meet his gaze, feeling the weight behind those words, the pain he’s carried, now starting to ease, if only a little.

You nod slowly, setting down the spoon in your hand, giving him your full attention. “I’m glad,” you whisper, your voice matching his softness. You don’t ask how long it hurt. You don’t ask who did it. You just meet him there in the space between pain and healing.

His eyes stay on you, flickering with something deeper than gratitude. Like he’s trying to push past the static in his mind, like there’s more he wants to give.

And then, in the quiet, in the stormlight filtering through the kitchen window, he lifts his hand again and taps his chest. Once. Twice. Like he’s showing you something sacred.

“Eddie,” he says.

Just one word. One truth. Yours now.

Your lips part. “Eddie,” you repeat, carefully, reverently.

He exhales shaky, relieved. There’s the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth.

The rain has finally started to ease, the sky lightening to a dull gray after five long days of relentless storm. But inside your old farmhouse, something warmer is blooming, something neither of you expected.

At first, his voice was little more than breathy gasps, soft as the rain tapping on the window panes. You weren’t sure if he even understood you when you spoke, or if words would come back to him at all. But slowly, as the hours stretched into days, you begin to hear him not just sounds, but real words. His voice is quiet and tentative, like a shy bird testing its wings, but it’s there. Sweet, too. Sometimes thankful, sometimes playful in a way that catches you off guard.

One afternoon, you’re stacking firewood in the yard, your fingers rough and cold, when he strolls over with a crooked smile. His dark eyes track your movements like he’s memorizing every detail. “You work too hard,” he says softly, the words carrying a teasing lilt you hadn’t heard before. “I might have to find a way to make you take a break.”

You glance up, caught off guard, and meet his gaze. He’s watching you with that spark, half amusement, half something deeper, something warmer. When you don’t answer, he steps closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a gentleness that makes your pulse skip.

“Careful,” he murmurs, “I’m starting to think you’re trying to distract me.” His fingers linger a moment on yours as he hands you a tool, the touch electric and unexpected.

You laugh, shaking your head, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you. He leans in just a little, voice low, “Maybe I don’t mind.” The look in his eyes is dark and mischievous, like he’s daring you to notice the way he watches you, how often he seems to be thinking about you when you’re not looking.

That evening, as you both settle inside, he surprises you by pulling an old guitar out from a dusty corner of the room. An old acoustic, battered but clearly well-loved. His fingers tremble as he strums the strings for the first time, awkward and unsure. But then, the roughness of his hands gives way to something more confident, more fluid. The notes fill the room, soft and haunting, like a secret melody meant only for you.

You watch him with a mixture of awe and something tender blooming in your chest. Despite everything the wounds, the pain, the fear there’s a beauty here you didn’t expect. His voice joins the music after a few moments, low and sweet, rough around the edges but full of feeling. It’s the first time you hear him really speak, really express something beyond words. And you realize, slowly, that music is his way back to himself, his language when speech fails. He hums quietly while you cook, tapping out rhythms on the kitchen table when your hands are busy. When you find the courage to ask him to teach you a few chords, he grins a shy, grateful smile and guides your fingers with a patience that makes your heart ache. Every time a song clicks, when you manage to play a chord or sing a note right, his eyes light up like you’ve just handed him the whole world. You can see it, music isn’t just something he loves. It’s a lifeline. A way to heal the parts of him you can’t see.

Even as he helps you with the work around the farm clearing fallen branches, fixing fences there’s something almost otherworldly about his strength. One afternoon, you’re both struggling to move a huge fallen tree limb. You’re bracing yourself, ready to push with all your might, when he simply lifts it with ease and tosses it clean over the fence like it weighs nothing. You blink, stunned.

“How did you do that?” you ask, half in disbelief.

He shrugs with that crooked smile, eyes twinkling. “Guess I’ve got a bit more muscle than I thought.”

Another time, tangled branches snag on the electric fence. You warn him off, but he just grabs the wire to pull it free and barely flinches when a sharp shock jolts through him. Instead of pulling back, he laughs, eyes shining with a thrill. “Not much of a spark,” he jokes, watching you rush to check on him. When you touch his hand, his skin is cool but steady, and you catch the way he soaks up your attention like sunlight. Beneath the scars and stitched flesh, beneath the haunted eyes, there’s a person hungry for connection, for care, for something real. And you find yourself wanting to give it to him, drawn in by his fragile strength and the unexpected sweetness in his voice and smile.

Some nights, after the day’s work is done and the house is quiet, he pulls the guitar into his lap again. You sit close, watching shadows flicker on the walls as he plays, music wrapping around you both like a soft blanket. Sometimes he sings to you, his voice rough but honest, and you realize this strange, broken man has become something precious, a melody you didn’t know you were waiting for.

━━━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🎕 ❫ ━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s a quiet night, the kind where the rain has finally washed everything clean, leaving the air smelling like earth and pine. You and Eddie are curled up on the couch together, a blanket thrown over your legs, an old VHS playing softly on the TV. The movie barely holds your attention. What really has you hypnotized is Eddie’s head in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly combing through his clean hair. You’ve started braiding little sections, undoing them, braiding again. He hums every now and then, soft and content, eyes fluttering shut.

He’s relaxed here. Safe. And so are you.

Until the knock at the door.

It’s sharp and unexpected, and Eddie bolts upright. His eyes flash with immediate fear, his body tense like a deer hearing the snap of a twig in the woods. You press a calming hand to his shoulder even though your own heart is climbing into your throat.

“Go,” you whisper urgently. “Guest room. Closet. Don’t make a sound.”

He stares at you, panicked. “You?” he breathes, voice trembling.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie. “Just hide.”

You don’t watch him go you can’t afford to. Your legs feel shaky as you make your way to the front door, forcing a calm you definitely don’t feel. The porch light flicks on as you open the door a crack.

Two figures stand on the other side. One is a Hawkins police officer, older, with tired eyes and a notepad in hand. The other man is tall, serious looking, dressed in a plain gray suit with a clipped ID badge that reads "Hawkins Asylum Special Services." There’s something off about him, something cold.

“Evenin’, ma’am,” the officer says, adjusting his belt. “Sorry to bother you so late. We’re making rounds about a missing person.”

Your throat dries. “Missing?”

The man from the asylum steps forward, holding out a laminated photo. “He escaped 2 weeks ago. Dangerous. Likely confused, possibly violent.”

You look down at the photo and your stomach twists.

It’s Eddie.

Or it was Eddie. The photo shows a man strapped to a gurney, arms restrained, eyes wild. His hair is shorter, messier. There are fresh staples gleaming along his temple and jaw. He’s thinner. His mouth is open in a scream or cry, caught mid-sound.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep your face neutral.

“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you say, handing the photo back quickly. “Is he… hurt?”

“He was part of an experimental trauma unit,” the asylum man says flatly, like he’s discussing lab equipment and not a person. “The condition of his body might seem unusual. If you do see anything strange… anything at all… call this number.” He hands you a card. The officer gives you a polite nod, but the other man’s eyes linger a little too long, like he’s searching your face for cracks.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” you say tightly, inching the door closed.

“Evenin’, then.”

You don’t breathe again until you’ve locked the deadbolt and leaned your forehead against the door.

Inside, the house feels too still. The shadows are thicker. You move quickly to the guest room and open the closet.

He’s curled up inside, hunched and trembling, like a kicked dog. His eyes meet yours, wide and wet. You crouch in front of him and touch his cheek.

“They’re gone,” you whisper. “You’re okay.”

He shakes his head, murmurs, “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Hey,” you say, gripping his hand tight. “You didn’t come here. I found you. You needed help. You still need help.”

He’s quiet, but his lip trembles.

You pull him out of the closet and into your arms. He sinks into you with a soft, helpless noise, clinging like he thinks you’ll disappear too.

“They showed me a picture of you,” you whisper. “You didn’t look like you. You looked… broken.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His voice is hoarse. “I was.”

You smooth your hand over his hair. “You’re not anymore.”

And for the first time since he came into your life, you see something else in his eyes hope. Fragile and trembling, but real. Something they didn’t manage to take from him. Something you’re determined to protect.

No matter what. ━━━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🎕 ❫ ━━━━━━━━━━━

After the knock on the door. After the strangers with badges and hollow eyes left. After you locked every door and closed every curtain. He lingered by your side, tense and silent, like a shadow afraid to vanish. And then he said it so quietly, so heartbreakingly unsure of himself.

“Can I… sleep with you?”

Like he expected you to say no. Like he couldn’t bear it if you did.

But you didn’t hesitate. The yes tumbled from your lips before you even thought it through. Of course. Of course he could.

He crawled into your bed like a wounded animal slow and cautious then curled against you like your warmth was the only thing tethering him to earth. His arms wrapped around you, needy and tight. You didn’t mind. You held him back, one hand stroking through his hair, the other rubbing slow circles along his spine. You whispered soft reassurances into the dark: You’re okay now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. And then he looked up at you.

There was want in his eyes but not just the sharp-edged want of lust. This was deeper. Sweeter. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He reached up and cradled your face so carefully, as if you were something breakable. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, reverent.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered. “So nice. So sweet to me.”

Then he kissed you hesitantly, tender and you kissed him back.

He kissed your cheek next slow, warm, lingering like he wanted to memorize the feel of you. Then he took your hands in his rough palms pressed to your softer ones, and lifted them to his lips. He kissed each knuckle, one by one, like some old, forgotten ritual of gratitude. His eyes never left yours.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Not your kindness. Not this.”

You tried to hush him, to tell him that wasn’t true, but he shook his head gently. He wasn’t finished.

That’s when the dam cracked.

He started talking, really talking. Words still clumsy, broken in places, but clear enough now. He told you what had happened before he stumbled into your woods. About the Upside Down, a mirror-world nightmare filled with rot and teeth and things no one should survive. You watched his face as he described being dragged back from the brink not to be rescued, but to be used. How they kept him. Cut him. Rewired him. His voice trembled when he told you about the pain, the confusion, the endless prodding like he wasn’t human anymore just something to test.

It sounded impossible. Insane. But his eyes were too haunted to be lying. And you believed him.

“I can’t go back,” he said, voice low and certain, jaw clenched like he was ready to run if he had to. “They’ll kill me... or worse.”

You squeezed his hands tighter, drawing him closer. “You’re not going back,” you said, heart pounding. “I won’t let them take you.”

And Eddie really believed you.

You saw it in the way his whole body softened, the way his shoulders dropped like he was finally setting down a weight too heavy to carry any longer. The way his eyes filled not with tears, but something warmer. Something like trust. Like safety. Like he was letting himself fall into the impossible idea that someone might really protect him.

The reassurance, the intensity of everything hanging in the air became too much to hold back. He kissed you again, but this time there was no hesitation. No question. His mouth found yours with quiet urgency, like he’d finally let himself want this, want you. And you wanted him too. You had for a while now, even if you didn’t realize how much until his hands started to move.

Rough palms, careful touch he explored you like you were made of secrets and he wanted to learn every one. Little gasps escaped your lips as his hands wandered, reverent and hungry all at once. And you felt him pressed against you, his body trembling not from fear but from the overwhelming need to be close to someone to be wanted back. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. Raw, vulnerable, desperate, and sweet.

You moved together like a promise, his mouth at your neck, his breath in your ear, his hands gripping and holding like he might disappear again if he let go. It felt like sealing a pact, something holy made of skin and sweat and whispered names.

And when it was done, when you lay tangled in the sheets with your legs brushed together and his heartbeat steady against your ribs, neither of you said a word. You just stayed there in the silence, until Eddie broke it. “I love you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me. ” The admission didn’t shock you because you felt it too. “I love you too, Eddie.”, you ran your fingers through his hair as he lay against your chest. “I won’t let anything happen to either of us.” He let out a breath like he’d been holding it in for a while and you lay in the dark his little snores followed shortly after. But your mind wandered for a plan of escape to get him out of there

━━━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🎕 ❫ ━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning, there’s no hesitation. You wake up with Eddie still curled into your side, his breath warm on your shoulder, and you know you can’t stay here. Not with them sniffing around. Not with what they did to him. So you pack. Every suitcase in the house, every spare bag. Clothes, food, money stashed away in jars, every bit of your quiet little life shoved into four cases and a pillowcase of essentials. You’re getting him out. You’re getting both of you out.

Eddie helps, quiet and efficient. There’s no panic, just this shared certainty between you, like you both know that if you stop to think too long, it’ll all fall apart.

Once you're on the road, miles away from the familiarity of your old dirt path and the shadow of Hawkins Lab, Eddie shifts in the passenger seat and asks, “Can we stop somewhere first?”

You follow his directions to a tea once you get back to the main road. The trailer park is still standing, somehow more hollow than you remembered it being in the past. Eddie leads you through it like muscle memory, eyes scanning, posture tense but not panicked. When he pulls a bent key from a tin hidden under the porch, your heart aches. This was his before everything. Before the slash on his neck and the lightning in his veins.

Inside, it smells like old coffee and motor oil. Then, you hear a gasp and an older man stumbles out from the back room. His face goes pale as he sees Eddie. His knees almost buckle.

“Eddie?” the man breathes, eyes glassy. “Jesus Christ—”

“Uncle Wayne.” Eddie steps forward, gripping his arm. “I can’t stay. I just…. I needed to see you. I needed to let you know I’m alive.”

Wayne looks like he might cry. He doesn’t ask questions. He just nods, like he already understands the gravity of it, like he’s already known something terrible happened but hoped against hope for this moment.

“I’ll write to you,” Eddie says as he hugs his uncle tight, like he’s holding the man together with just his arms. “I’ll write under the name Kirk Hammett, okay? Just... don’t tell anyone you saw me. Please.”

Wayne squeezes him harder. “Just be safe, kid. Be happy.”

You wait by the car while they say goodbye, heart full and aching. When Eddie finally gets back in the passenger seat beside you, his eyes are red but his shoulders are lighter.

“Let’s go,” he says.

So you do. There isn’t a clear plan. No firm destination in sight. But there is one thing you’re certain of. He’ll never go back to them. That's something you’re sure of.

One year later

You're sitting in the garden behind your new home, watching Eddie teach guitar to a group of kids from the neighborhood. He's patient and encouraging, his hands gentle as he guides their fingers to the right positions on the frets. When a girl about ten years old finally managed to play a simple chord progression, his face lights up like she's just performed a symphony.

"That's it!" he says, grinning. "You've got it!"

The girl beams, and you can see the confidence blooming in her face. Eddie has that effect on people this ability to make them feel capable of more than they thought possible. It's one of the things you love most about him.

The music lessons were his idea, a way to give back to the community that's embraced you both without question. Without othering him for his scars. The kids adore him, drawn to his enthusiasm and the way he makes even the most difficult concepts seem manageable. Their parents think he's a gifted teacher with an unusual approach to music education. They have no idea they're watching a miracle every week a man who died and came back, who learned to be human again through love and choice and the simple act of creating something beautiful.

After the lesson ends and the kids have gone home, Eddie comes to sit beside you on the porch swing. His hair is longer now, hanging in loose waves past his shoulders. The scars have faded to thin white lines, barely visible unless you know where to look. He's put on weight, filled out in a way that makes his proportions look more natural, more human.

"Good lesson today," you tell him, leaning into his warmth.

"Yeah. she's really getting the hang of it. I think she might be ready for something more challenging next week."

You watch the sunset paint the sky in brilliant colors, thinking about how far you've both come. From that first night when you found him broken and speechless in the woods, to this moment of quiet contentment. It hasn't always been easy there have been nightmares and flashbacks, days when the borrowed memories felt more real than his own, moments when you both wondered if you were crazy to think this could work.

But it has worked. More than worked. You've built something beautiful together, something that neither of you could have imagined when you first met.

"I've been thinking," Eddie says, his voice soft in the evening air. "About what comes next."

"Oh?"

He turns to look at you, eyes bright with possibility. "I want to start recording music under a different name of course. Not just teaching it, but creating it. Songs about second chances and impossible love and finding your place in the world when you're not sure you belong anywhere."

You smile, heart warming at the excitement in his voice. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Will you help me? I want to tell our story. Not the parts about the lab or the experiments, or the upsidedown but the important parts. The parts about choosing love over fear, about becoming who you're meant to be instead of what others expect you to be."

"Of course," you say, and you mean it. "I'd love to help you tell our story."

He kisses you then, soft and electric. When you break apart, you're both smiling, giddy with the possibilities stretching out before you.

"I love you, Mrs. Hammett," he says.

"I love you too, Mr. Hammett."

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chaccone-cha0s · 2 days ago

Text

Lost in the label ~ L.HS pt.1

•° `♡` °•

Pairing: Best friend!Heeseung x F!reader

Trope: Best friends to lovers, College AU, Teasing, bickering,

Warnings: Includes cursing, mature themes

Featuring: Enhypen ot7, Aespa ot4,

Synopsis: Heeseung is a constant pain in the ass and does nothing but ruin your life and annoy you. But somehow you feel the need to take care of him and make sure he's okay. This dynamic hasn't changed in over 14 years, but a chain of events changes everything you've ever believed in.

🔗 Part 2

Pls keep in mind that this is my first post on Tumblr (I have no clue what im doing)

Feel free to let me know what you think <3

•° `♡` °•

Heeseung cursed out loud as his teammates made him lose yet another round. "For fuck's sake learn how to play!!" He yelled through the mic and scowled, his fingers aggressively typed on the keyboard.

The door to his bedroom flew open as you tiredly plopped down on his bed. Heeseung payed no attention, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Oh come on, how long are you gonna sit there? Aren't you the least bit bothered by the heat?" You said followed by a dramatic sigh.

Ignored.

You let out a groan, finally having enough of your best friend's attitude or lack there of. You quickly unpluged his computer and yanked his headphones off. Heeseung's mouth dropped in an instant. It takes him a second to process what you had done.

Meanwhile you take this chance to run for your life. You knew exactly what you had gotten yourself into. "Oh you're fucking screwed." He muttered to himself and ran out of the room to catch you.

Heeseung is quick on his feet and it doesn't take him long to close the distance between you two. You get into a defensive position, circling the couch and watching his moves carefully.

"You really think you can outrun me?" Heeseung taunted as you threw a pillow at him. Before he could react you threw another and bolted back upstairs to his room.

By the time he ran through the door you were standing on his bed, a slipper in hand ready to attack. He chuckled in amusement and caught his breath. You had to stop yourself from screaming as he jumped on the bed and grabbed you by the wrist.

You two battled for the slipper, as he pinched your side. You flinched at the sudden contact and pulled at his hair. "Ow ow, ow--!!" He yelped in pain and a second later both of you went crashing onto the floor.

The slipper fell somewhere around the room while you and Heeseung layed on the floor, breathing heavily. "Told you I'd catch you." He said as a smirk formed on his lips.

"Yeah yeah." You discarded his comment and sat up.

"You going to that pool party later?"

Heeseung raised a brow and stood up. "Oh yeah, Jake basically begged me to go. Plus it's the last party of the summer. You thinking of going?" He asked and sat down on his bed.

"Not sure, might just stay at Giselle's for the night."

•° `♡` °•

So... you didn't stay at Giselle's. Infact she was the one dragging you to Sunghoon's pool party. One thing about Heeseung is that he had filthy rich friends (with you being the exception). Giselle also invited the other girls. Ningning, Karina and Winter showed up for a pre-party with a few cocktails to warm up.

And at 8 the five of you were in Sunoo's car, singing karaoke on the way to Sunghoon's place. He stopped the vehicle infront of the large private estate and threw the car keys in your direction. "Keep an eye on these for me." He said as you passed the keys to Karina, your parent for the night.

A few minutes later all of you were inside and drinking all kinds of beverages. "No drinking today Karina?" Ningning teased as she noticed the older girl sipping fruit punch.

Karina let out a chuckle. "After last party's hangover I don't even want to taste alcohol." Her words made you grin widely. "Okay so this is a pool party, and we kinda need to go to the pool." Winter reminded everyone and sqeezed past the crowd.

The second you went outside you spotted Heeseung with his friends. He wore a simple white tank top and swim shorts. His hair was damp, most likely from an earlier dive and he was passionately explaining something to Jay. Your gaze lingered on him for a second before you made eye contact with Jungwon.

He gave you a small wave and smile. Your heart warmed at his cuteness as you waved back. Your next instinct was to go over and say hi from up close but Giselle pushed you towards the outdoor bar.

"No boys allowed tonight, just drinks and music." She nagged and poured you a shot. You downed it in one go and made a face at her. "I was just going to say hello, but fine, tonight we party like animals."

The girls cheered while lifting their drinks in the air.

•° `♡` °•

"Hey I'm gonna go say hi to Y/n." Sunghoon commented as he patted Heeseung's shoulder. His eyebrow shot up in confusion. "When'd she get here?" He asked as his eyes scanned the outdoor area.

"I drove her and her friends here." Sunoo answered as he layed on a lounge chair. Heeseung let out a scoff. "You could've told me."

Sunoo only brought his sunglasses down and looked at him in disbelief. He and Ni-ki shared a look. Heeseung walked off seemingly pissed off for no reason. On his way he bumped into Jake and didn't even bother apologizing. "Is he good?" Jake asked with a raised brow.

In a few seconds Heeseung was at the bar, ordering another drink. His eyes instantly went to you.

You, who sat smiling and laughing with your friend.

You in your tiny jean shorts and a red bikini top.

You, who hadn't even bothered to text him and let him know that you was coming.

He grabbed his drink and walked over to your lounge chair. You were still chatting away with Karina, while Giselle was zoned out. Your two other friends were splashing around in the pool.

You hadn't even noticed his presence, until Karina went silent. Heeseung sat down next to your legs. You eyed his clearly drunk state and raised a brow.

"You could've told me you were coming."

You were caught off guard. Is that why he looked so upset? Drunk Heeseung was really something else.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Is that why you sulked all the way over here?" You teased and took a sip of your drink. His eyes followed your every move. Karina gave you a look before signaling that she was gonna leave you two alone.

You nodded and glanced back at Heeseung. He was drunk yes, but his usual drunk self was very energetic and giggly. He was nothing like what you were seeing right now. "Are you okay? Should we go home?" You asked while pressing your hand on his bicep.

Your cold touch instantly caught his attention. He looked you in the eyes and suddenly grinned. You knew something wasn't right, but he had already grabbed your waist and thrown you over his shoulder.

You let out a surprised yelp and gasped as he started walking towards the pool. "Heeseung no, don't you dare-!!" Your screams echoed through the backyard till all the attention was on you two.

Giselle took out her phone to record the whole thing. "I'm being serious!! My phone is in my pocket, Heeseung-!!"

Heeseung was laughing at your protests. He pretended to throw you as you flinched and harshly smacked him. "Enough just put me down!!" You hit his back as hard as you could but he just wouldn't quit.

His friends' must've noticed how opposed you were to being thrown in the pool. "Okay Heeseung that's enough. She doesn't want to." Jay said as he approached you two. Heeseung only stepped closer to the edge, causing you to scream.

By then Jay and Jungwon were desperately trying to stop him. While Jake and Ni-ki laughed in amusement. You would've been in a good mood too, if your phone wasn't in grave danger.

"Hee, come on put me down. We both know you won't throw me." You said in a more calm tone and attempted to take your phone out and throw it to the nearest person. "It's just water Y/n you'll be fine."

"My phone won't--!!"

You gasped as Heeseung's foot slipped. Your phone slipped out of your pocket and went diving into the pool. You could only scream as your best friend lost his balance and dropped you. Jungwon caught your arm in time before you hit the concrete floor.

Heeseung on the other hand wasn't so lucky. His knee collided with the ground but he still giggled at his 'prank'. Jay helped him up while mentally facepalming. "I think you've had enough, go sleep it off." He said. Heeseung harshly shoved his friend's hand off.

"You okay?" Jungwon whispered to you as you gave a short nod. Frankly you weren't okay, your phone was taking a bath in the pool and you were fuming at your best friend's utter stupidity. "Are you actually fucking insane?" You yelled and took a step towards him.

His grin widened as you harshly pushed his chest. "Why do you keep getting so fucking wasted? You idiot, you ruined my phone!! What were you even thinking??!!" You screamed again as Sunghoon stepped between you two. "Y/n, I know you're upset, but clearly he's not in his right mind. Please calm down." He said calmly and watched as you backed down.

You let out an exhausted sigh and walked off to retrieve your phone. Ningning and Winter had fetched it out of the water, their expression's were unreadable. "You okay?" Ningning asked as she touched your shoulder. You nodded and grabbed your now broken phone.

"Why's he being such a dick?" Winter muttered, her eyes glaring into his back. You refused to watch his friends try to sober him up. If you did you would definetly lash out again. Giselle walked up to you three, a look of disappointment decorating her face.

She was about to speak when you heard multiple people yelling. It sounded a lot like Heeseung's friends. You barely registered him charging at you at full speed. Ningning gasped as Heeseung tackled you into the pool.

"Dude what the hell!!?! You couldn't have stopped him??" Giselle yelled as her eyes scanned the pool searching for your figure.

Jake and Sunghoon were about to jump in when you appeared on the surface. You took a deep breath and pushed your hair back. "You're so fucking dead, Lee."

Heeseung could only laugh at your hilarious expression. You finally lost it and pounced on him, grabbing his head and shoving it underwater. Jake, Sunoo and Ni-ki burst out laughing as Jay shook his head. Giselle somehow always managed to record the good moments.

Winter and Ningning enjoyed Heeseung's deserved punishment. You felt him struggle beneath you as you finally let him go. He gasped loudly and grabbed the edge of the pool. His eyes were red, breathing heavy as he coughed out all the water in his lungs.

You climbed out of the pool as Winter handed you a towel. You plopped down on the floor, too exhausted to move. Heeseung followed after you, a bit too quiet for your liking. You looked at his face as Jungwon offered a hand to help him up.

Your gut was telling you something wasn't right. And just as you stood up Heeseung stumbled. Jungwon's eyes widened as Heeseung's body fell towards you. You barely caught him as he went completely limp and unresponsive. "Hee?" You breathed out, heart pounding from worry.

"Lay him down!!"

A wave of gasps erupted as Jungwon and Sunghoon helped you lay Heeseung down on the floor. Jay checked his pulse and let out a sigh of relief. "For fuck's sake, can this guy not ruin my fun all the time?" You breathed out while sitting beside his blacked out figure.

"He loves to crash parties that's for sure." Jake said as he shook his head.

•° `♡` °•

His friends managed to carry his ass inside and lay him down on the couch. Mind you the party is still up and going. You sat down beside him clearly the only one willing (forced) to take care of him. About a half hour later, he opened his eyes and lazily looked around.

The colorful lights were blinding his vision as he covered his eyes with his forearm. His headache was only getting worse by the second. You touched his arm and glanced at his face.

"Welcome back sleeping beauty." You commented.

His eyes flew open at your familiar touch, his gaze landing on your face. He could make out a hint of annoyance, some worry and a whole lot of anger. He must've done something stupid.

"What happened?" Heeseung asked and rubbed his forehead in pain.

"Long story shory, you owe me a new phone. Now let's go." You grabbed his wrist and started dragging him towards the exit. You called Karina and told her to meet you outside.

"Woah what happened to him?" She asked at the sight of you supporting Heeseung with his arm around your shoulder. "Drank too much like usual. Can you drive back to his place?"

"Yeah of course." Karina used Sunoo's car to drive you back to Heeseung's house. She watched in concern as you dragged his body to the front door and unlocked it. You waved Karina goodbye and went inside.

The trip up the stairs with Heeseung around your shoulder was a nightmare. You barely managed to get to the top, and even then you were close to just dumping him there. You layed him down on the bed and took his shoes off.

That's more than what he deserved but still. You placed the blanket on him and layed down for a while. Your exhaustion finally kicked in as you turn to face Heeseung's sleeping figure. His features were completely relaxed, his lips naturally pouting. Gosh if only he'd be this quiet all the time.

•° `♡` °•

The next day Heeseung woke up with a pounding headache. He was half expecting (hoping) you were laying next to him or atleast cooking breakfast and getting ready to throw insults at him. Unfortunately the house was silent and Heeseung's dream shattered in an instant. There was no trace of you in his room.

Had he actually dreamed about you laying next to him? He remembered it all too vividle for that to be true. After regretting all of his life choices, he sat up. he didn't even attempt to remember the events of the party. Or rather he'd prefer not to feel extremely fucking emberrassed.

He opened his phone and furrowed his brows. Weird. You hadn't sent him a single text. No matter how stupid Heeseung acted while drunk, you'd always check up on him. Did he fuck up that badly that you won't even text him?

To stop himself from overthinking Heeseung called his buddy. "Yo Jake."

"Hey man, you alive?"

"Yeah why wouldn't I be?"

"Right, you probly don't even remember what happened."

"So i fucked up?

"If by that you mean Y/n probably won't ever talk to you, then yeah."

Heeseung's mouth dropped in shock. What could he possibly do (that he hadn't already) that would piss you off to the point of breaking up their friendship?

"Did I kiss her?"

Instead of a reply Heeseung got laughed at. Jake was basically wheezing from how hilarious his friend's words were. Heeseung could only roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Are you gonna answer my question?"

"Man you're gonna have to figure this out on your own."

And with that Jake hung up.

Heeseung decided that the best thing he could do was actually get to college. Which he was extremely late to and considering the place was about 2 hours away he'd have to be a tiny bit more late.

Of course Jungwon had called to ask where the hell he was. His only excuse was that he overslept, which wasn't a compete lie. The whole ride to college he stared at his phone screen. He went through his previous text conversations with you, noticing how you always replied as quick as you could.

But now he felt uneasy.

You didn't text back and haven't answered any of his 18 missed calls.

By the time he got to the campus he was exhausted. Heeseung retrieved his dorm keys from the main office and went to dump his luggage in his room. Just as he was sitting on the couch the door creaked open.

Winter peaked inside, her eyes went wide at the sight of him. "Sorry wrong room." She bowed apologetically and was about to close the door when Heeseung blocked it with his foot. "Winter, Have you seen Y/n?"

The girl gave him an 'are you serious right now' look. He could feel her judgemental gaze as she crossed her arms. "No haven't seen her. Bye."

She said and slammed the door in his face.

There seriously must be something wrong with everyone today. No one, and literaly no one would tell him when you were. He tried your friends, which left him with even more questions. Ningning ignored his entire existance, Karina hurried away without answering and Giselle gave him the dirtiest look possible.

It was safe to say he fucked up badly, so bad that your friends suddenly hated his guts.

During lunch he sat between Jay and Jake. Casual conversations were flowing between them as Heeseung stared down at his plate, lost in deep thought.

He finally snapped, dropping the fork with a thud. The table went dead silent. "Anyone wanna tell me what heinous act I commited yesterday? Why's everyone acting like this?" He asked, letting his frustrations out. His friends stayed silent, avoiding his eyes.

He scoffed and looked around, his gaze searching your figure. That's when he saw you sit down at a table with your friends. You were chatting away, a small smile decorating your lips.

He abruptly stood up, deciding that you were the only one who could tell him. He walked over to your table, his friends gasping behind him. "No no no--!" Jungwon began but covered his eyes.

Jay shook his head in disappointment as Sunghoon took a bite of his food. "What an idiot." He muttered causing Jake to chuckle. Sunoo pushed Ni-ki to the side. He needed a clear view of your table as shit went down.

Heeseung stopped right behind you. You knew instantly since Giselle scowled and the rest went silent. You slowly turned yoru head to him, fork full of food in hand.

"Hey, Can we talk?"

Heeseung asked without hesitation. "I only have 10 minutes to eat so I can't spare you any time. Sorry." Your sorry didn't seem all that genuine. Heeseung frowned at your attempt to dismiss him. "I'm sure you can eat and listen at the same time." He didn't back down.

You glared at him for the snarky remark. "Not right now, Heeseung."

"Then when? When will you make time for me?" He asked and leaned down, placing one hand on the table.

"Our spot, at 5."

Heeseung straightened back up and walked off without another word. He needed to figure out what made you so upset. The only logical solution that came to him was that he kissed you.

And that you felt uncomfortable given your relationship as best friends. And now you can't even look at him the same. He couldn't believe that a single kiss ruined years of friendship and trust.

•° `♡` °•

#kpop #heeseung #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #kpop idols #kpop x reader #karina #aespa winter #aespa giselle #aespa ningning #sunoo #kim sunoo #jake sim #sunghoon #jay enhypen #enhypen niki #jungwon

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