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millersfinest · 14 days ago

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untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series

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girllblogging777 · 2 months ago

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Hiii 😊 Cinammon tinged tale for Mattheo Riddle/reader please!

How about Mattheo is a member of a band, and the reader is a journalist and they give her an interview and Mattheo is instantly head over heels.. Love at first sight

𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝐼𝑇 𝑇𝑂𝑂𝐾

↳ famous mattheo riddle x journalist reader

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : the lead singer of the band you’re interviewing falls for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the fluorescent hallway outside the room hums with low voices and muffled bass, a promise of the chaos waiting beyond the doors. you clutch your notebook a little tighter, running over the questions in your head for what feels like the hundredth time.

this is the biggest feature you’ve done for the paper, a full interview with the silver dominion, the band that has been skyrocketing through the rock charts lately.

you’ve done your research: lorenzo berkshire on drums, theodore nott on bass, mattheo riddle on guitar and vocals. mattheo… the name alone is enough to bring heat to your face. it’s impossible to miss his face on album covers, magazine spreads, and the endless stream of fan edits flooding your feed.

but none of that really matters right now. this is your job, you remind yourself before stepping into the room where they’re waiting.

the band is sprawled out on a couch when you walk in, the kind of casual chaos you’d expect from a group this magnetic. theo is tapping a rhythm against the armrest, enzo is looking through the setlist, but mattheo looks up the second the door opens.

and he stops.

completely.

your eyes meet, and it’s like the air shifts. his expression freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air where it was reaching for a cigarette. his dark eyes widen and for a split second, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“hi,” you manage, your voice steady despite the way his gaze sets your nerves alight.

“hi,” he says back, low and unsteady, like the word has weight to it.

enzo glances up from the documents, breaking the moment. “you must be the journalist.”

“that’s me,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from mattheo. you try to focus as enzo introduces himself, then theo, but you can still feel mattheo’s gaze on you, sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“and that’s mattheo,” theo says, motioning toward him with a smirk.

you glance back at him, and he still hasn’t looked away. his lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

“nice to meet you,” you say, your voice soft.

he nods, and for a moment, his mask of cool indifference slips. something flickers in his expression, raw and disarming, before he quickly looks down, fumbling with the cigarette in his hand.

“so,” you start, clearing your throat as you sit down across from them, trying your best to look at ease. “let’s dive in.”

the interview begins, and you do your best to focus, asking theo about his influences, enzo about their songwriting process. the room fills with easy banter, laughter spilling over as theo tells a story about their disastrous first gig.

but mattheo barely speaks.

he answers when you ask, short, clipped responses that seem out of place for someone so magnetic on stage. but every time you glance up, his eyes are on you, and they’re not just looking. they’re studying.

“mattheo, how do you balance writing lyrics and playing lead guitar?” you ask, hoping to draw him into the conversation.

his lips twitch into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “it’s not something i think about too much. it just… happens.”

enzo snorts. “he’s being modest. he’s a control freak in the studio.”

“shut up,” mattheo mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. his eyes flicker back to yours, softening. “it’s just about the feel of it, you know?”

you nod, scribbling down his response, but you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering.

“so what about you?” he asks suddenly, cutting through enzo’s attempt to steer the conversation back.

you blink. “what about me?”

“why’d you start writing?” his voice is quieter now, laced with something you can’t quite place.

“uh, i…” you falter, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “i guess i’ve always loved telling stories. finding the human side of things, the parts people don’t usually see.”

he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “and do you find it?”

“sometimes,” you say honestly, holding his gaze even though it makes your chest feel tight. “not always.”

his lips part, like he’s about to say something, but theo cuts in before he can.

“are we just gonna let him hijack the interview?” theo teases, raising a brow at mattheo. “she’s here for all of us, you know.”

“right,” mattheo mutters, sitting back, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

the rest of the interview passes in a blur. you jot down notes, ask follow-up questions, laugh along with theo’s jokes, but mattheo stays quiet, only speaking when directly addressed. and yet, his presence fills the room, drawing your attention back to him over and over.

when it’s finally over, you gather your things, feeling oddly reluctant to leave.

“thanks for your time,” you say, standing.

theo and enzo wave you off with easy grins, already diving into some argument about their setlist, but mattheo follows you to the door.

“wait,” he says, his voice low.

you turn, your pulse quickening as he steps closer.

“you’re coming to the show tonight, right?”

you nod. “i’ll be covering it.”

his gaze softens, something like relief flickering across his face. “good.” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “can i… ask you something?”

“sure.”

he swallows, his confidence faltering for the first time. “do you… i don’t know, do you believe in things happening for a reason?”

his question catches you off guard, but there’s something so vulnerable in his expression that you can’t brush it off.

“sometimes,” you say carefully. “why?”

he shakes his head, a small, almost self-deprecating laugh escaping him. “i don’t know. it’s just… the second you walked in, it felt like…” he trails off, glancing away, then back at you. “like something shifted.”

your breath catches, the honesty in his voice cutting through every defense you have.

“mattheo—”

“sorry,” he says quickly, stepping back. “i probably sound insane. forget i said anything.”

you want to say something, anything, but the door swings open behind you, theo calling him back inside.

“i’ll see you tonight,” mattheo says, his voice softer now. and as you leave, his eyes follow you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

and you know.

you know he felt it too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : as an aspiring journalist i wish this was me fr, thank you for this request !!! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list !@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp

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acrid-wondrland · 6 months ago

Text

Random TokyoRev Headcanons

🔑Mikey's favorite flavor is anko(red bean). Taiyaki, dorayaki, mochi, etc. It doesn't matter, it has to have anko filling. Fave ice cream flavor? Anko. What does he ask for on his halo halo when he and Izana go visit the Phillipines? Extra red bean.

🔪Yuzuha Is an unofficial member of Toman. The uniform she wears isn't her school's uniform, it's a custom one in Toman colors that Mitsuya made for her. She doesn't wear the ribbon around her neck anymore because once when she got in a fight someone grabbed it and nearly cost her the fight. The only reason she isn't an official member despite Mikey insistence, since she's a pretty decent fighter, is because she hates violence due to her childhood.

😵Shion is afraid of heights.

🚚Kisaki can't smoke because he has asthma. Every time he went to the Valhalla Arcade to talk strategy, he always made Hanma come outside to the back of the building so he doesn't die from the secondhand smoke. Hanma thinks it's funny.

🚬Hanma is left-handed. Also didn't get his Sin and Punishment tattoos bc of the Dostoevsky novel but because of the Nintendo 64 game lmao.

🎴Izana wants to learn how to play every Gackt song on his acoustic guitar.

💤Ran has dated more foreign girls than Japanese girls. Mostly Singaporean(a lot of rich Singaporeans club in Roppongi), Russian(a lot of Russian models come to Japan for work), and Korean(A lot of Korean tourists due to proximity) girls. He wants to try and date a French girl someday (he romanticizes Paris and France like a lot of young Japanese ppl do). He's enamored with foreign pop culture and is in his Passport Bro era lmaoooo, it's why he wants to be a foreign celebrity. And it's easy for him to find foreign girls to date bc Roppongi is popular with foreigners in general.

🎶Rindou is secretly a huge romantic and feels extremely pressured to be a playboy bc of his and his brothers' reputation. A lot of things most boyfriends would find a pain in the ass to do, Rindou actually looks forward to doing for his future girlfriend one day.

💊Sanzu: "While u were out partying w da Haitanis, I studied the blade."

jk jk but I hc that's he's actually a chuunibyou, he just hides it really well. Has whole shonen manga monologues in his head.

🐉Draken dawg HATES anko w a passion and can't stand it. Mikey's love for it is torture to him.

👠Inupi i saw a hc once that his red flag is that he's rude to the waitstaff and I laughed for 5 min straight because why can I see it???? lmao???

That aside I hc that he loves swimming and water in general. Like, in the timelines he ends up being a Yakuza he definitely made sure his penthouse had the fanciest infinity pool complete with custom lights, heating, a built in stone wall on the side that has a flatscreen TV, different connected sections w different elevations, etc.

💴Koko is half Chinese, from his mom's side. She's from the mainland, specifically Henan province and born in it's capital Zhengzhou. He's very proud of his heritage.

---

Anyone got any matching hcs lol?

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alygator77 · 4 months ago

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♬♪ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : beat of my heart ♬♪

♬ pairing. college au // drummer! gojo x psychology major! reader (f)

♬ summary. being a psychology major with a passion for music, you're no stranger to chaos—between juggling school, caring for your mother, and working at a local music shop, you've learned to keep your cool. but when a cocky drummer pushes your patience to the limit, a chance encounter with satoru gojo—an enigmatic, sharp-tongued musician—turns your world upside down. as you're drawn to his dangerous charm, an unexpected connection deepens, but so do the secrets you've both been running from. will you get caught up in his rhythm before you realize it’s too late?

♬ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, slow burn, smut, angst with comfort, some fluff, readers mom has dementia, mentions of suicide, alcohol/weed usage, unresolved trauma, commitment issues

♬ words: 7.3k

♬ a/n. hi lovelies, welcome to the debut of this fic :) very excited to explore this dynamic between satoru and y/n, thanks for reading ♡

♬ taglist: open

series masterlist ♬ next chapter → pending...

ch 1 // the first measure

“Emotional regulation is defined as the process by which individuals influence the emotions they experience, when they experience them, and how they express them in response to different stimuli.”

Staring at the neatly printed words in your psychology textbook, your mind automatically begins to dissect the concept.

Emotional regulation. The holy grail of human behavior, wrapped neatly in clinical terms. It’s the ability to keep yourself in check, to craft a perfect mask that hides what’s boiling beneath the surface. The world only gets to see what you allow. If it were as easy as the textbook made it sound, half your classes wouldn’t exist.

Letting out a breath, you sink deeper into your chair.

People aren’t simple equations you can balance, after all—people are… complicated.

Emotions, even more so.

They ebb and flow like unpredictable tides, swelling when you least expect them, crashing down when you think you’ve regained control. They are messy, stubborn, and relentless—especially when the brain stops following its own rules.

Your mothers face comes to mind—uninvited. Her once-bright eyes are now dull with confusion, emotions flickering in and out like static on a broken TV. Dementia has stolen the filter that once kept her reactions in line with reality. It’s as if her mind is betraying her, one piece at a time.

You press your fingers against the pages of the textbook. Will any amount of psychology truly prepare you to untangle the complexities of the human mind? Can it allow you to help her—or at least understand her—before she’s lost entirely?

Before you can sink further into that thought, an ear-splitting crash reverberates through the store, jolting you back into the present. Glancing up with a sigh, the peaceful hum of the music store is shattered by the clumsy cacophony of someone abusing a drum kit like it owes him money.

Clearly, emotional regulation isn’t on that guy’s radar.

Yet, somehow, you’ve grown used to it. Working part-time here has taught you how to tune out chaos, as if the dissonance of the store has become its own kind of background music.

It’s chaotic, but it’s your kind of chaos.

The strings of guitars being tested, the pounding of drum kits, the chattering of customers—it all blends into a rhythm you no longer notice.

You’ve been working part-time in this quaint little music shop for so long that silence has become unsettling. If it’s too quiet, your mind starts wandering, spiraling into places you don’t always want to go. And so, the chaos is your anchor—it helps you focus, keeps you present.

Studying in silence feels foreign.

“Ugh… I have such a headache,” Utahime’s voice breaks through your thoughts, her hand pressing to her temple. Standing a few feet away, she shoots a glare towards the drum section. “He’s been at it for practically an hour now. Like… come on. Is he trying to destroy that kit or learn how to play it?”

Glancing up from your textbook, you eyes land on a brawny guy with jet-black hair, slamming away on the drums with no sense of rhythm, no control—just brute force.

“Has it really been that long?” you ask, blinking at the scene. The noise had faded into the background for you, becoming just another layer of the store’s soundtrack.

Utahime gives you a look that screams disbelief.

“You didn’t notice?”

You shrug.

“Guess I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“Tch… wish I could do that,” she rolls her eyes, rubbing her temples like the sound is physically burrowing into her skull. “That guy is killing me.”

Oh, shit. Now that your attention is focused, you notice just how bad it really is. It’s not just noise—it’s borderline offensive to music. He’s not even playing the drums—he’s assaulting them—completely unaware of the sonic devastation he’s unleashing on the store.

Utahime lets out another long, exasperated groan, her entire body sagging as she leans forward in defeat.

“I swear, if he keeps going, I’m going to snap,” her elbows rest on the counter, and she presses her forehead into her hands. “y/nnnn,” she whines, lifting her head just enough to glimpse at you. “Can you please do something?”

Glancing around the store, you catch the irritated looks of other customers—one guy near the synthesizers is glaring openly at the drummer, his hand gripping a set of headphones so tightly you half expect him to snap them in half.

It’s like the whole store is holding its breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to make it stop.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook. It’s one thing to tune out the chaos when you’re focused on studying, but now that you’re paying attention, the noise feels like an assault on your senses too. You can’t blame Utahime for losing her patience—though she’s never been one to take matters into her own hands.

“Fine, I’ll handle it,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from your seat.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, finally peeling her hands away from her temples. “Please, work your magic. Before we all go deaf.”

You roll your eyes internally, though you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Magic. Sure—that’s one way to put it.

What Utahime calls ‘magic’ is really just years of learning how to manage other people’s shit without losing your cool.

It’s not magic—it’s survival. A skill you’ve honed out of necessity, not desire. And sure, maybe your love for psychology helps—you’ve got the theories to back up the practice—but most days it feels more like wrangling toddlers who never learned how to grow up.

Taking a steady breath, you step into the fray, weaving through the store’s labyrinth of instruments and displays. As you get closer, the vibrations from the drums rattle through your bones, crawling up your spine. The sound is unbearable, like nails on a chalkboard amplified through a megaphone.

The guy doesn’t even look up, his head bent low over the drum kit, raven hair falling in messy strands across his forehead. His arms move with the rhythm of someone who has no idea what rhythm actually is, and the muscles in his forearms ripple with each heavy-handed strike as he slams the sticks down like he’s personally offended by the drums.

You stand off to the side for a moment, watching him have at it. You’ve dealt with a lot of difficult people working here, but this guy? He’s so oblivious to the fact that the rest of the store is on the verge of mutiny.

Clearing your throat, you raise your voice, hoping to break through his focus.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

Another crash of the cymbals, loud enough to rattle your skull. Your jaw tightens as you try again, this time louder.

“Excuuuuse me!”

Still nothing. He’s completely in his own world, bashing away with reckless abandon. It’s like he’s in a vacuum, utterly disconnected from the chaos he’s creating around him.

Jesus this guy… your patience thins and you step closer—close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him from his overexertion. His shirt clings to his back with sweat, and the muscles in his arms continue to ripple with each reckless swing of the drumsticks.

He’s not just playing hard—he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.

As you reach out to tap his shoulder, you try to keep your touch firm but not aggressive, although, the moment your fingers make contact with him, his entire body jerks—drumsticks freezing mid-air as he whips his head around to face you.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and filled with a flicker of annoyance.

“What?” he snaps, voice dripping with irritation.

Keeping your expression neutral, you try not to let his attitude get to you.

“You’ve been at this for a while,” you begin, as calm as you can manage. “We have a limited selection and there are other customers who may be wanting to try this kit.”

His eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed.

“So?” he drawls, waving the drumsticks lazily, like your request is beneath him.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you press your lips together in protest. Stay professional, you remind yourself. Shifting your weight slightly, you square your shoulders and look him directly in the eyes.

“So,” you continue, voice firmer this time, “store policy is thirty minutes per instrument. You’ve been playing for over an hour.”

A low, sarcastic laugh bubbles from his chest, the sound filled with mockery as he tilts his head back slightly.

“And… what are you gonna do about it?” leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees like he's settling for a show—eyes glimmering with amusement as his lips curl into a smirk. “Throw me out?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek—every fiber of your being is itching to knock this guy down a peg.

Ugh. What a tool.

The condescension in his voice grates on you like sandpaper, but you force yourself to stay composed.

“Look…store policy is pretty clear,” you reply evenly, nodding towards the sign behind the counter. “You either give someone else a turn, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Your words seem to pique his interest—his smirk widens, eyes flicking over you slowly, appraisingly. Suddenly you’re more interesting to him than this drum set. He pushes himself off the stool in a slow, deliberate movement, and you hold your breath the moment he towers over you.

He’s by no means, a small guy.

The light behind him is blocked from his broad shoulders, and there’s a new edge to his gaze now. The moment he invades your space, it is just a little too close for comfort.

“Oh yeah?” your stomach turns from the low suggestive timber of his voice, “And what if I don’t feel like leaving, sweetheart? You gonna make me?”

Ick.

This guy might take the cake for being the most difficult prick you’ve had to deal with here, and that’s saying something. Working in this music shop, you’ve come across a lot of full of themselves wannabees, praising themselves like the next big thing—acting like God’s gift to music when all they want to play over and over again is ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ and ‘Wonderwall.’

A surge of discomfort ripples through your body, but you stand your ground. You know how this goes—he wants a reaction, and you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“Look dude, I’m not asking,” your tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. “This is your last warning”

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, and a low whistle escapes his lips, as if he’s impressed—but it’s the kind of faux admiration that makes your skin crawl.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he muses, chuckling softly.

Leaning in, the heat of his breath brushes against your skin as he invades your space once again—far too close for comfort—and you feel his gaze sweep over you slowly, lingering in a way that feels slimy and unwelcome.

“I like a girl with a little fire,” he adds, voice dropping lower. “It always makes things more fun.”

Gross.

Your hands curl into fists by your sides and you fight the urge to recoil as a surge of revulsion twists through you like a knife.

But before you can respond—before you even have the chance to formulate the sharp retort already forming on your tongue—the air shifts and a new voice cuts in.

“Wow, did I just walk in on the world’s worst pickup line, or are we about to throw hands over a drum kit?”

Turning your head towards the source of the voice, your eyes land on a tall figure standing a few feet away—his hair is a striking shade of snowy white, messy and untamed, falling in tousled strands that almost brush against the black sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and even with his face partially hidden, there’s no mistaking the mischievous glint tugging at the corners of his mouth—like he’s watching the scene unfold for his own amusement.

Despite the casual nature of his appearance—jeans slung low, a loose-fitting hoodie—there’s something undeniably striking about him. It’s the kind of presence that demands attention without asking for it

Who the hell is this guy?

Clearly irritated by the interruption, the drummer straightens up—his smirk faltering as he sizes up the newcomer.

“This doesn’t concern you, man,” he growls, tight with irritation. “I’m just having a little conversation with her.”

The snowy stranger’s grin turns sharp, though his voice remains light.

“Yeeeah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” he steps up beside you, and without hesitation, his arm slips around your waist, pulling you smoothly into his side like you’ve always belonged there. “Everything concerning her concerns me.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sudden, possessive gesture. Part of you bristles at the boldness, but another part… feels oddly safe in his grasp—like he’s been by your side forever.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere as the drummer's eyes narrow—like the balance of power has tipped—the presence of this stranger throwing him off.

“Oh really? And just who the hell are you?” he snaps.

Your mysterious stranger doesn’t miss a beat—he chuckles softly, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his eyes—brilliant, vivid blue, and gleaming with a spark that teeters between playful and dangerous. It’s the kind of look that makes your heart flip.

“Oh, me?” he feigns innocence with a nonchalant shrug, like this whole thing is just mildly amusing to him. “I’m nobody special.”

Sliding his sunglasses back into place, he casually pulls you in a bit closer, and you are met with the warmth of his body as he leans into you just slightly.

“Just here to make sure my girl doesn’t have to deal with assholes. Y’know how it is.”

Your mind scrambles to catch up.

Your girl? You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks as the words rolling off his tongue begin to register. You barely know this guy—hell, you don’t know him at all—and yet here he is, acting like the two of you are something.

But…maybe it’s working? Because the drummer’s eyes narrow further, his expression twisting as a furrow darkens over his features. Ah…but then you realize he’s not focused on the claim your stranger just made—no, his attention is locked on a different word entirely.

“Asshole?” he echoes, voice rising with indignation, practically spitting the word back. Clenching his fists, he steps forward with a scowl twisting upon you face. “You calling me an asshole?”

“Well, yeah,” your stranger remarks casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs again, utterly unfazed by the tension mounting between them. “When the shoe fits…I mean, you’re acting like one, aren’t you?”

Pure rage flashes across the drummer’s face, and you can visibly see his fists trembling slightly.

Uhh… on second thought, is this guy even helping?

Now you’re not so sure if your so-called rescuer is making things better or worse, because clearly, the drummer is on the verge of snapping.

“You better watch your mouth man,” the drummer snarls, fury simmering beneath the surface.

But the stranger’s grin only widens, and he exudes a confidence that makes it clear he’s not worried in the slightest.

“Heh. That’s a warning I get a lot,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “But y’know what? I don’t usually listen.”

It's a wonder the drumsticks the drummer is fisting haven't cracked under pressure, given how tightly he clenches them—his knuckles turn white.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls through gritted teeth.

A low hum rumbles against your strangers’ lips as he ponders the question thoughtfully.

“I mean, I’ve been told I’m pretty hilarious,” he scratches the back of his head, like he’s seriously considering the statement, then, glancing at you, his eyes gleam with amusement as his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose slightly.

“Whatcha think babe? Am I funny?”

The question—and that pet name—catches you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But the drummer isn’t interested in the little game your stranger seems to be playing. His jaw clenches—teeth grinding audibly as his face hardens into something feral.

“I’m about two seconds away from wiping that stupid grin off your face,” he spits, taking another aggressive step forward.

Fucking hell, is a fight really about to break out at your work?

Your pulse quickens, and for a split second, you think he might actually swing at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the stranger says, still grinning like none of this phases him.

He releases his hold on your waist and steps forward with a smooth, almost lazy movement, placing himself between you and the drummer. His hands slip casually into his pockets, posture relaxed, but the air around him shifts.

“Let’s pump the brakes, big guy,” he tilts his head slightly, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “You’re welcome to try. But I’ll tell ya right now—” his teasing lilt diminishes, replaced by something colder, more commanding, “you’re not gonna like how it ends.”

His words—a warning and a challenge wrapped in one—hang heavy, and for a moment it feels like the entire store is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next. Glancing around, you notice a few customers watching the scene unfold.

Fucking hell—this has gone from bad to worse.

And yet…the drummer doesn’t swing. He doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch.

He’s seething—rage evident in the set of his jaw, the clenched fists at his sides—but something about the stranger’s calm, unwavering demeanor is throwing him off balance. It’s almost impressive, really.

No, scratch that—it is impressive.

You misjudged this guy. He might have walked in here like a cocky troublemaker, throwing out cheesy one-liners and pushing your buttons, but now? Now, he’s cool under pressure, defusing a situation that could’ve easily escalated into violence.

Body language often says more than words ever could, and his is completely in control—relaxed, hands in his pockets, not a single muscle tensed for a fight, yet there’s a sharpness beneath the surface—an unspoken control that demands attention.

It’s brilliant in a way. He’s defusing the threat without lifting a finger—a textbook example of how to manage tension without aggression. This guy is winning a psychological game the drummer doesn’t even realize he’s playing.

Their silent standoff stretches, until finally, the stranger breaks the silence with his smooth and almost disarmingly casual voice.

“Look, man,” he shrugs one shoulder with a nonchalance that seems almost practiced. “This is me giving you a chance to walk away with your dignity intact.” Tilting his head slightly, he gestures toward you with a subtle nod. “She asked you politely to stop. This is a store, not your personal garage. So maybe it’s time you pack it up and go before you make things worse.”

There’s a moment—a pause that feels like it stretches just a beat too long—where you can practically see the drummer’s gears turning in his head, weighing his options, trying to hold onto whatever’s left of his bravado.

Then, finally, he mutters through gritted teeth,

“Whatever.”

The word is spat out, dripping with frustration and barely-contained rage, and with a sharp movement, he tosses the drumsticks onto the kit—the wooden sticks clattering against the drums in a final act of defiance.

“You’re not worth it, and this place sucks anyway,” he mutters, full of aggravation, but his heart no longer in it—it’s clear his fight has deflated.

Turning sharply on his heel, he shoves past both you and the stranger with a forceful shoulder, storming toward the exit, and once the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberates through the store with an unmistakable finality.

Just like that, the tension breaks. It’s like the whole store exhales at once—the weight lifting from the air as the distant murmur of customers resumes.

Before you can fully process what just happened, the stranger beside you turns his attention back to you.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarks, “Could’ve gone worse though. I mean, I didn’t even get to throw a punch. Talk about anti-climactic, huh?”

You barely manage to take a breath as he closes the space between you just a little more, his movements slow and intentional, and your heart flutters the moment his sunglasses slip down slightly, just enough for you to get a direct glimpse of his eyes. They lock onto yours—those bright, vivid blues—and for a second, everything else around you fades into the background.

“Seriously though,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You okay?”

There’s something undeniably genuine in his tone, something that cuts through the playful exterior and lands right in your chest. You weren’t expecting that—this tenderness from someone who moments ago had brushed off a near-fight like it was nothing.

His eyes—soft but still burning with intensity—hold yours captive, and for a second, you forget how to speak.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage, “I think so.”

“Good,” he says with a nod, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Because I think you owe me a ‘thank you’ for that stellar rescue.”

You blink out of incredulity.

Thank you?

So much for tender—who does this guy think he is? You nearly scoff aloud. He wants a 'thank you' for a rescue that, truthfully, you weren’t even sure you needed?

Unsure whether you’re amused or annoyed by his arrogance, you open your mouth to respond—but before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a wink.

“Kidding,” he says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Always happy to help.” His hands settle into his pockets and he pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Especially when it means I get to rescue a pretty girl like you.”

The compliment lands harder than you’d care to admit as you feel the warmth creeping up your neck and into your cheeks—betraying the fact that—against your better judgment—you’re not entirely immune to his charm.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest…

—nope. Let’s not go there.

Pushing it down before it can grow into something more, you refuse to let that feeling root itself.

You’re not looking for attention, especially not from a guy like this—a guy who flashes a cocky grin like he knows it works. The kind of guy who acts like the world bends to his whims.

Romance? No thanks. You’ve got bigger things to focus on. He’s exactly the kind of distraction you don’t need.

“Rescue might be a strong word,” you mutter, finally finding your voice again as you cross your arms over your chest. “I had it under control… mostly.”

“Oh, you did? My bad,” leaning in slightly, his voice lowers as if sharing a secret. “But trust me, that guy? He was one wrong word away from turning this into a full-on disaster. You’re lucky I stepped in when I did.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at his comment, refusing to let him rattle you this time, and there’s a flicker of amusement creeping into your voice as you challenge him.

“Lucky, huh? So, what now? You expecting a medal or something?”

His grin widens—a grin that’s undeniably magnetic, but you resist being pulled into its orbit.

“Naaaah, I’m not that high maintenance,” straightening himself, he regards you with a slight tilt of the head. “But… I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by his response.

Did he just… ask you out?

“Wait, what?” you stammer, not quite sure you heard him right.

“A coffee,” he repeats smoothly. “Y’know, like a reward for my heroic efforts.” He pauses, just long enough to make it clear he’s toying with you. “Or is that too forward? I can settle for your number instead.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips—a sharp exhale that’s part disbelief, part amusement. This guy is unbelievable.

Nope. You’re not going to let him get to you that easily.

“I don’t even know your name,” you shoot back, lifting your chin just a little higher, “and you’re already angling for a reward?”

“Ouch, y/n,” he replies, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as if you’ve wounded him deeply—his grin, however, never falters. “That stings.”

You stare at him, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“How do you…?”

“How do I know your name?” he finishes for you, clearly enjoying this a little too much. He tilts his head. “Well, for starters, your nametag.”

Oh.

You glance down quickly and—of course—there it is, printed neatly on the tag pinned to your shirt, and now you are mentally kicking yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Right… of course,” you shake your head in mild embarrassment. It’s infuriating how easily he’s messing with you.

An amused chuckle dances on his lips and he leans back ever so slightly—hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world.

“But that’s not the only reason I know you,” he adds, voice taking on a more playful tone, almost like he’s daring you to figure it out. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”

You blink, trying to piece together where you might’ve seen him before. There’s something vaguely familiar about his voice…have you heard it before? Do you know him?

“I don’t…” you start, trailing off, searching for any spark of recognition, but you come up blank. “Uhh… should I?”

Flashing you a toothy smile, he's clearly delighted by your confusion.

“Ouch again. Double whammy,” with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head in mock disappointment as his crooked grin curves up. “I guess I’m not as memorable as I thought.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his theatrics, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips do too. Ugh. You want to be irritated with him but somehow, he makes it incredibly hard to be.

“Right… well,” tilting your head, your voice dips with playful sarcasm, “maybe if you told me your name, it might jog my memory?”

With a soft chuckle, he slides his sunglasses off and rests them on top of his head, and just like that, you’re greeted with the full, unobstructed view of his eyes—striking, electric blue, so vivid they almost don’t seem real, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

“Satoru,” he says smoothly, as if his name alone should be enough to make everything click. “Gojo Satoru.”

The name floats in your mind, like it’s circling around something, but still, nothing concrete surfaces. He seems so confident—so sure that you should know who he is—and it only adds to your frustration.

Do you know him?

Generally, you keep to yourself, both at work and on campus—with your moms condition you don’t really have time for the exciting college life. Tilting your head, your eyes narrow as you study his face—surely, you would have remembered someone like him... wouldn’t you?

“Gojo Satoru…” you test the name on your tongue as if saying it aloud might unlock some hidden memory. But still—nothing. “Sorry, not ringing any bells.”

Satoru laughs again, rich and unbothered, like this is the highlight of his day.

“Wow, I’m really striking out today,” he shakes his head in mock dismay. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Before you can muster a response, he reaches out casually, plucking a pair of drumsticks from an endcap display nearby, twirling them between his fingers like it’s second nature. He examines them for a moment, then looks back at you with a raised brow.

“So, since we’re here and I’m feeling generous… how about you check me out?”

You glance down at the drumsticks in his hand, then back up at him—his expression is unreadable, that signature smirk lingering as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“...you mean ring up the drumsticks, right?” you clarify, though your voice is uncertain.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” he murmurs, and then, with a sly wink, he adds, “But I don’t mind if you do both.”

For a beat, your breath hitches, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

Okay—this is guy is definitely a flirt. You’re not falling for his trap.

“Wow… you’re really not subtle, are you?” reaching out, you snatch the drumsticks from his hand. “How many women actually fall for that?” you turn on your heel towards the counter, and he follows in step.

“Hmm…I’m not exactly keeping score,” he admits. “But let’s just say I don’t hear too many complaints.”

Glancing back at him, you arch an eyebrow as you approach the register—fingers automatically moving to unlock your cash drawer, and he leans casually against the counter beside you, propping his elbow on it—like he owns the space.

“Will say though,” he adds, voice dipping lower, “I don’t usually have to try this hard. You’re pretty special.”

You scoff, your fingers hesitating slightly over the keys, though you refuse to let him see how his words make a tiny flutter bloom in your chest.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you mutter under your breath, trying—and failing—to focus solely on the transaction.

Satoru hums, watching you with that same playful gleam in his eyes.

“Nah,” his tone drops to something almost conspiratorial, “you’re definitely one of a kind.”

Yup. He’s a smooth talker—and without a doubt, bad news.

Pressing your lips together, you force your gaze to remain on the screen in front of you. He’s playing a game, and you’re determined not to lose.

As you scan the barcode on the drumsticks, he casually pulls out his wallet to pay, and that’s when something catches your eye—a student ID peeking out from the clear pocket inside his wallet.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, your fingers hover mid-air as you get a better look. The ID is familiar—yet you can't make out the school’s name plastered right across it, but the logo and the colors are unmistakable.

Wait a second…

“We go to the same school?”

Satoru looks up, his grin stretching even wider and the glimmer in his eyes practically daring you to catch up—he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Took ya long enough,” he teases, playful but with a hint of smugness. “Yeah, we do.”

You blink, the pieces clicking together a little too late.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you demand, unable to stop the half-accusatory, half-embarrassed tone that underlines your voice. A groan slips past your lips and you shake your head in frustration. “I swear…you’ve been messing with me this whole time.”

With an amused chuckles, Satoru lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug.

“Hey, it’s more fun this way,” he leans in a little closer, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “Besides,” he pauses, tilting his head just slightly while his lips curve into a sly grin. “I like watching you piece things together. You’ve got this cute little furrow in your brow when you’re thinking hard.”

The intensity in his eyes makes your breath hitch, and no matter how hard you resist, there’s that undeniable flutter in your chest, warm and unwanted.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation back onto safer ground.

“Oof. You’re killing me, y/n. I pass by you every day, actually.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes.

“Every day? Where?”

“The water fountain,” he says smoothly, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically, just a light touch. “Y’know, where you sit and study. Every afternoon, without fail. I walk by almost every day.”

Ah. That’s why his voice must’ve sounded familiar. You probably heard him—another voice blending into the background while you were studying.

“Really? Guess I never noticed you.”

Resting his chin in his hand, a dramatic huff falls from Satoru's lips as they form into a pout.

“Jeez…you don’t quit. I can’t believe I’m that forgettable.”

You can’t resist the soft laugh that escapes you, despite yourself—it’s hard not to find his antics at least a little amusing, and though you’d never admit it, the way he’s so desperate for your attention is almost… cute.

“Maybe you just blend into the background too much,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow while extending your hand, silently gesturing for his payment.

“Ouch...” he winces dramatically, pulling out his card before placing it in your hand. “Okay, that one stung a little.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sure your ego will recover,” you quip, glancing up briefly before focusing back on the transaction. But there’s a brief pause as you swipe his card—a silence that suddenly feels charged with something else.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, heavy and expectant, and you try your hardest not to give in to the pull to look at him again—but the heat of his attention is unmistakable, almost like a gravitational force pulling you in, and you can feel your pulse quicken under his scrutiny.

“I gotta say, you’ve got a sharp tongue—I like it,” he murmurs.

Your fingers freeze for just a second, your breath hitching slightly as his tone shifts, and you can’t resist—your eyes flick up and he holds your gaze captive yet again.

“But it’s a bad habit, y’know,” he continues, his voice dropping, growing more intent as his eyes flicker over your features. “Not being aware of your surroundings like that...” leaning in just a fraction, his words become a quiet murmur between the two of you. “What if some creep tried to take advantage of you?”

The gentleness in his demeanor… is he genuinely concerned? It’s hard to tell—harder than you’d like to admit—and it’s easier to convince yourself he isn’t—that this is all part of his charming routine, because that makes it easier to ignore the subtle pull he has on you.

“Well,” you keep your voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest, “lucky for me, no one’s tried. Unless…” tilting your head slightly, a teasing smirk tugs at your lips, “you’re secretly admitting to being a creep.”

Satoru’s laugh spills out, rich and warm, breaking the moment just enough for you to catch your breath.

“Nah, I’m not creep,” his voice lightens as he straightens up just a little. “Just a concerned citizen looking out for someone who’s too absorbed in her textbooks to notice the world around her.”

You huff, though the corners of your mouth twitch upward against your will.

“I can handle myself, thank you very much,” you quip back, determined to maintain control over the situation. In a quick, defiant motion, you grab the receipt and shove it into his hand, a small victorious gesture.

“Right, right. You definitely proved that today when I swooped in for the rescue,” he teases, and his hand brushes yours ever so briefly as he takes the receipt—a touch so light is sends a tiny spark up your arm. “But hey, what if you don’t show up at the fountain one day? I’m gonna have to file a missing person’s report.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“A missing person’s report? Seriously?” you roll your eyes.

“Yup,” he grins, emphasizing the ‘p’. “You’re there so often it’s practically routine. Same spot. Same time. Every day. It’s kinda predictable, y/n. If I don’t see you there one day, I’ll just assume some creep finally got to you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you can’t help the faint heat rising in your cheeks.

“Predictable?” you retort, trying to sound indignant. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you are,” he counters, clearly reveling in your reaction as he slips the receipt in his pocket. “But hey, that’s not a bad thing. It makes you easier to find if you ever disappear.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, a snappy reply ready on your tongue, but he’s already raising his hands with a dramatic flair, like he’s about to paint the scene in vivid detail.

“I can see it now: ‘Missing: Cute girl who spends way too much time by the water fountain. Last seen buried in a psychology textbook. Answers to y/n.’”

It’s impossible not to laugh again, the sound bubbling up as you watch him weave his ridiculous scenario with such confidence and flair. His eyes flick to yours, and a satisfied grin tugs at the corner of his mouth—clearly pleased with the effect he’s having on you.

“Wow,” you manage between chuckles. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement, leaning slightly closer. “Gotta be prepared. I don’t want anything happening to my favorite water fountain girl.”

Your heart flips—and for a second, it feels like he’s given you some kind of title you didn’t realize you wanted. You try to brush it off, to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks, but it’s not so easy with the way he’s looking at you.

“Riiiight… well, lucky for you,” you manage, attempting to sound nonchalant, “I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.”

“Good,” he murmurs, low and smooth. “Because I’d miss seeing you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the upper hand, though the small smile that tugs at your lips betrays you.

“Uh-huh. Sure you would.”

There’s a brief moment, just the two of you—his gaze still locked onto yours, when—

“Ahem.”

You jump slightly at the sound, turning to see Utahime standing beside you, arms crossed, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She gives you a look—a very knowing look—that sends heat rushing to your cheeks all over again.

“I’m taking my break,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes dancing with mischief as they flick between you and Satoru. “So… don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of the tension in the air, you swallow hard and offer her a tight smile.

“No promises,” Satoru quips, that cocky grin returning to his face as he leans against the counter slightly—clearly unfazed by the interruption.

After Utahime saunters off, he continues smoothly, picking up right where he left off.

“So...” he starts again, “What do you say? How about you give me your number? Just in case I need it, y’know, for emergencies.”

He’s relentless, isn’t he?

Heat creeps up your neck as you blink from his boldness—with a soft, incredulous laugh, you desperately try to find your footing again.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

That familiar and confident gleam glistens in his eyes as his grin widens.

“Not when it comes to someone as interesting as you.”

There’s a flicker of something in your chest—a flutter that you’re quick to squash.

“Mmm… sorry,” you murmur, tone sweet but firm. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of disappointment. I’m really not interested in players.”

For the briefest moment, his grin falters, and something unreadable flashes behind his eyes—a momentary crack in his facade. It’s so quick, so subtle, that you almost miss it. But there’s just enough time to wonder if maybe you hit a nerve.

Still, Satoru recovers in an instant, his playful charm sliding back into place like nothing happened.

“That’s cold, y/n,” his voice light and teasing, though there’s a trace of something deeper, almost wounded, lurking beneath. “You really think I’m that kind of guy?”

Tilting your head slightly, you cross your arms over your chest as you study him—gaze sharp but not unkind.

“Yeah, well, I’ve met enough guys like you to know how this works.”

With a soft chuckle, and a smooth, almost lazy motion, he lowers his sunglasses from where they’re perched atop his head—resting them back on the bridge of his nose as the dark lenses now obscure his eyes from you.

He’s hiding behind them—letting them do the work of shielding his real thoughts. Huh. Typical behavior for someone who enjoys the chase but avoids real vulnerability.

“You’re quick to judge. I’m just a guy who knows what he wants. And right now? I just want your number.”

Classic deflection—you think. He’s not even denying it. Still... something about the way he says it makes that familiar flutter stir in your chest, and you hate it.

“Yeah... that’s not happening,” crossing your arms more tightly, you try to maintain control of the situation.

His hands come up in mock surrender as a small, amused sigh slips from his lips.

“Bummer,” he concedes, though there’s no real disappointment in his tone, only amusement. “But hey,” he picks up the drumsticks from the counter, “offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”

“Right... I’ll keep that in mind,” you dryly reply, knowing full well that you won’t.

“Please do,” he shoots back with that infuriatingly confident grin. “Besides, I’ll be seeing you around, water fountain girl.”

The familiar nickname brings an unwanted warmth that you attempt to shake off.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Gojo.”

But Satoru just steps back toward the door, exuding that same unshakeable confidence. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he says with a cocky smirk. “You’re predictable, remember? I know exactly where to find you.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but before you can, he’s already halfway out the door, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers with effortless ease.

“See ya around, y/n,” he calls over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft jingle before you even have a chance to respond.

And just like that, the store feels quiet again, as if the air shifted back to normal now that he’s gone. You stand there for a moment, blinking at the closed door. You should feel relieved that he’s gone, that the exchange is over, but instead, you’re left with this strange, restless feeling you can’t quite shake.

What the hell just happened?

Shaking your head, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There’s a part of you that’s frustrated—frustrated at how easily he slipped under your skin, how effortlessly he managed to unsettle you with nothing but a grin and a few flirtatious remarks.

You hate that you’re even thinking about it. About him. He’s just another guy with too much confidence for his own good.

But something about the brief crack in his facade sticks with you. That fleeting moment where his grin faltered, and something else—something almost vulnerable—flickered behind those cocky blue eyes.

What was that?

With another shake of your head, you push the thought aside. He’s a flirt. A player. The kind of guy who never takes anything seriously.

That’s all there is to it.

You don’t have time to psychoanalyze every flippant guy who crosses your path, even if there’s a part of you that’s still curious.

Just as you’re about to shake off the thoughts entirely, your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, glancing down at the screen.

Kyoko: Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know your mom's been having a rough day today. She’s more confused than usual, keeps asking for you. Maybe you could visit soon?”

Reality crashes back in—grounding you in the weight of your responsibilities.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

You: Thanks for the update, Aunt Kyoko. My shift is almost over, I’ll be home soon.

Focus. There’s no room for distractions—not right now.

Not with Satoru Gojo. Not with anyone.

a/n. thanks for reading the debut of bomh (or i guess the re-debut since this is a rewrite? hehe). i'm excited to explore a lot of topics in this fic, and rewriting it definitely helped rekindle my passion for this story. so, i'm looking forward with whats to come! hope ya'll enjoyed 💕 → you are currently all caught up ♪

taglist:

@gojoslefttoenail @satoryaa @ninjaturtletoes @murtabuckz @sorcerersseestars

@reagan707 @sakurasimppp @sugxryratz @tkyemfk @lovelyjkook

@lovebittenbyevans @kaemaybae @bloopsstuff

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thepastdied · 2 years ago

Text

Amped Up (p.1)

18+. MDNI. Smut.

perv!virgin!eddie munson × virgin!fem!reader

next part OUT NOW

Eddie loved to tease himself while you studied. He would watch as you sat on his bed, books littered across the mattress as you flipped between them. You were his best friend, and it was so wrong, but he loved it. It was easy to do this when you were so focused on your work. You were so oblivious.

His legs would be spread wide, his guitar on his lap to hide his aching hard dick that pressed against his skinny jeans. His mouth opened as he let out a silent breath, watching the way your tongue darted out and slowly licked the spit that collected on your bottom lip as you chewed on your pencil.

"Fuuuck" He hissed.

You looked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. Just uh.. dropped my pick." He held up the worn-out guitar pick before giving you a cute, dopey smile, his cheeks making his eyes scrunch up.

His smile quickly disappeared when you went back to your book, biting his lip harshly as his hips slowly grinded up into his guitar. He watched the pencil press against your plush lips and wished it was his cock.

You raised your arms to stretch and twist around, groaning at the pain your back was in. He bit back a lewd comment as you moved to lay on your stomach, your ass on display to him. God, he fucking loved those little pink pajama shorts. They hugged your ass perfectly, usually getting swallowed up cause of how short they were. He pushed his guitar down and swallowed hard. His heart rate picked up when you started to kick your feet up in the air, the movements causing your shorts to ride up on your ass even more.

"Oh God, keep going baby." His eyes were half hooded as he fell more into bliss. The chair he was in began to squeak lightly as he bucked up into his guitar faster. It went unheard as the music he put on (purposely) drowned out his panting. His eyes trailed from your ass to your thighs. He wished he could have those wrapped around his head as you pulled his hair and came in his mouth. God, he was close. His thigh muscles flexed as he held back a moan, his eyes moving back to your ass and noticing your panties now peeking through. Of course you would wear lace.

"Ugh! I fucking hate this!" He jumped a little when you slammed your book down, your ass jiggling at the movement and making his hips stutter. You shook your head in annoyance before moving to another book, licking your finger so you can open to a certain page.

"Holy fucking s-shit." He began to breathe faster, though remaining quiet. His hand quickly darted to his stereo, turning up the music a little louder.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his guitar hard, pushing it against his cock. His leg kicked out from its previous bent position, muscles flexing as it shook, his body jerking. His cum exploded into his boxers, a guttural moan vibrating in his throat as he scrunched his eyes shut tightly, entire body jolting at the intensity. His hand accidently hit the strings, causing a loud shrill to echo throughout the bedroom. He choked on a breath before opening his eyes and looking over at you. You ignored him, eyes darting across the page of your book, figuring he was probably mad about fucking up a chord.

Eddie wiped a shaky hand across his forehead, moving his sweaty hair back that stuck to it. He looked down at his guitar, slightly moving it back to see a sticky wet patch of cum on his jeans, a string of wetness connecting to the surface of the guitar.

He quickly untucked his baggy shirt to cover the spot on his jeans.

"Hey sweetheart, wanna take a break? Want to see you play with my guitar." His tongue rubbed against the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.

You tilted your head at him puzzled. "Uh, sure."

He grabbed his guitar by the neck and held it up toward you. "Take it."

You grabbed it and pulled the strap over your head. He licked his lips, feeling his dick start to get hard again knowing that his cum was now on your shirt.

next part->

I had to rewrite this because tumblr deleted my first post of it. Fuck you, tumblr. It's probably not as good as the original, but I tried to write it out as quick as possible before I forgot. Enjoy

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddiemunson #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x bestfriend!reader

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ellecdc · 3 months ago

Text

part II - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

CW: financial insecurity, Sirius money-is-no-object Black, sugar babe vibes, brief mention of Black family [3.1k words]

link to series masterlist

The words on the page before you began to blur and melt as you watched the way the shadows of the leaves danced across them; the canopy of trees above your fire-escape-turned-balcony swaying in the gentle breeze and providing you with broken bits of shade.

You almost laughed that out of the two documents Sirius had sent you home with, the legal NDA was rather easy to read through and already signed, sitting safely on your bedside table for your next meeting.

You were having a harder time with the second document; one that you were supposed to replicate for him.

‘About Me’ it read. And it was - about Sirius, that is. Everything that a long-term girlfriend soon-to-be fiance hopefully one day wife should know.

His favourite colour is black, but there was someone else's font beside it that read “this doesn’t count, Sirius”, to which what you could only assume was Sirius’ scrawl wrote “bloody hell, fine, blue then.” His birthday is November 3rd. He’s a dog person, but Remus likes cats so he thinks he’ll likely have to cave one day and get him a cat. That note made you smile. He wanted to study art history (someone wrote the word ‘nerd’ beside that) but his parents didn’t approve, so he studied architectural design instead. He listed the Godfather as his favourite movie, but when someone wrote ‘liar’ he wrote ‘FINE. It's the 1999 made for TV version of Annie with Kathy Bates’. He’s afraid of spiders, he drinks both his coffee and tea sickly sweet - his favourite drink being a salted caramel latte, he played rugby with James growing up but quit when he decided he didn’t actually like being beaten about for sport. He left out the ‘when I was already being beaten about at home’, but you read it for what it was anyway. He can play piano but hates it, he can play the guitar less well but loves it. He’s littered in tattoos, most can be hidden under dress shirts and such, but there’s one that trails just a little too high up on his neck and a few on his hands. His favourite meal is Remus’ mum’s shepherd's pie, but the Ritz room service always made a really good baked mac and cheese.

You snorted as you threw your head back against the railing behind you - your bum growing numb from sitting on the wrought-iron bars of the fire escape - at the thought of Sirius Black sitting in a premium suite in one of the world’s poshest hotels and ordering macaroni and cheese to his room from a michelin star restaurant.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? You wondered wryly as you stood and forced the jammed window to your bedroom back open and crawled through.

Sirius had offered to pick you up, but you had insisted you would meet him at the mall. Well, actually, Sirius had first offered to transfer you some money to buy a cocktail dress for dinner at his Uncle Alphard’s tomorrow night, but when you’d gone so quiet on the phone that Sirius actually pulled it away from his face to ensure the two of you were still connected, he’d offered to take you instead.

The dinner at Alphard’s would be a good segway into the Black family nonsense; Alphard’s house would be neutral territory, his parents and other aunts and uncles would be there, but it wouldn’t be their domain. And there would also be Andromeda, her husband Ted, and of course Uncle Alphard to act as buffers.

But that’s not what had Sirius feeling so uncharacteristically nervous right now. He felt silly, sitting here at the Starbucks with sweaty hands as he considered buying a second latte.

Yeah, he thought wryly, that’s exactly what you need - more caffeine, as if you aren’t already shaky enough.

Sirius hadn’t felt this anxious since he’d asked Remus out on an actual date back in school. He supposed in many ways, this was a first date of sorts. A first date with the woman who was going to help him bring down his family and all the hate they stood for, with the woman who was going to be accompanying him to events with some of the worst people he knew, the woman who he was going to propose to, who he’d have to bloody marry at some point; blimey what did he get himself into?

Thankfully you chose that moment to show up, saving Sirius from any further spiralling as he stood so quickly that he almost knocked the small bistro table clean over.

“Hullo! Fuckin’ hell. Hi!” He stuttered awkwardly as he caught the table and righted his nearly finished coffee.

“Hi.” You murmured softly with a matching smile.

“Hi.” Sirius said again, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling back at you.

“Hi.” You repeated; smile growing into a cheekier smirk as you watched him botch this.

“Great, awesome.” Sirius said with a smile. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” You laughed.

“Oh, and now you’re lying to me.”

You shook your head and looked down at your feet. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he hired an escort, but he found he was surprised by how plain a lot of your wardrobe seemed to be. Granted he had only met you twice, but from those two times it had become clear to him that when you weren’t working, you preferred to be nondescript. Classic tees, shirts, and blouses, and denim or, in today’s case, corduroys; you looked vintage and casual, put together in a way without looking like you tried too hard. Though, once again, you were only as nondescript as any pretty woman could be, and he was sure that anyone even remotely attracted to women would absolutely spare you a second glance - corduroys or otherwise.

But he couldn’t help but admit - at least to himself - that he was a little bit excited at the prospect of getting to dress you up.

“Are you- do you want a drink?” Sirius asked as he gestured towards the Starbucks behind him, nearly taking out an errant shopper with his hand causing him to have to call out a hasty apology.

“Oh, uhm, no, no. I’m good, thank you though.” You declined quickly as you hiked your purse further up on your shoulder, though you were eyeing the store with intrigue.

Ah, Sirius thought to himself, allergic to spending money - I know a thing or two about your type.

“Listen, gorgeous, we’re going to be spending a lot of money today, so you’d be better to start with something small to ease yourself into it.” He quipped.

He’d been going for light and breezy - even shooting you a cheeky wink - but you seemed to blanche at that.

“I’m… I don’t have much on me, Sirius…” You started, and Sirius fought the urge to wince at his faux pas.

“My money, doll; we’re going to be spending a lot of my money.”

“I-”

“It’s number six.”

You turned away from the coffee shop to look at him in bemusement. “What?”

“Number six, how you take your tea and coffee; your favourite drink.” He explained. “Mine’s a salted caramel latte. What’s yours?”

You took a deep breath as you searched his eyes for a few moments before turning back towards the drink menu. “Are you getting something?”

“I was considering getting a second.” Sirius allowed as he nodded towards his forgotten cup.

“I’ll get it, then.” You offered, and made your way into the shop before Sirius could even respond, returning a few moments later with a salted caramel latte for Sirius and some kind of sweet looking cold brew for yourself.

“Thank you.” He offered as he accepted the drink from your grasp; your name scrawled prettily on the side of the cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You whispered back as you took a sip of your own.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“What about this one?” Sirius asked for what had to have been the thirteenth time in this store alone as he held up a garment for you to consider.

You barely spared the dress a half a glance before you were reaching to the sleeve - not coincidentally where the price tag was.

“Would you stop checking the price?” He hissed as he gently swatted your hand away. “Do you like this dress?”

You made a helpless sound in the back of your throat as you looked between him and the dress again. “I don’t know, Sirius, I- it’s not something I’d ever buy for myself.”

Sirius sighed as he returned the dress to the rack and gave you a Look™. “I do not mean any offence, doll, but I think that’s sort of the point.” He offered softly.

You groaned miserably and cradled your face in your hands. “I’m sorry - I’m being terribly difficult.”

“You’re not being terribly difficult.” Sirius appeased, waiting for you to peek at him through your fingers. “Only mildly.”

You groaned again but allowed your hands to fall away from your face to land on your hips as you considered the rack in front of you. Your bottom lip dimpled as if you were chewing on the inside of your lip as you turned to a rack behind you that the two of you (read: Sirius) had been looking through moments ago and sifted through it again.

“That would be a nice colour on you.” He offered as you paused on a dress. You kept your face pointed towards the dress but looked up at him through your eyelashes before pulling the dress out and holding it up against him.

“Now, I don’t know what you think you know about my family, but generally, I save my dress wearing for when I’m in the privacy of my own home or at a very specific bar.”

Sirius watched as your nose crinkled before you were dropping the garment and lowering your chin to your chest in an attempt to hide your snickering; Sirius momentarily wished you wouldn’t.

“I didn’t mean for you,” you chided through a giggle as you held the dress back up against him; he didn’t argue this time, “I was checking to see if the colour looks good on you as well.”

Sirius found his cheeks flaming hot as the question ‘and does it?’ settled on the tip of his tongue. But, like the fucking prat he is, all he managed to spit out was “of course it does, I look good in everything.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘git’ under your breath before nodding once. “I think I’ll get this one, then.”

“Great job.” He said as he swiped the dress from you and folded it over his arm. “Now pick three more and then we can head to the next store.”

“Thre- next store? Sirius, I-”

“I told you we were spending a lot of money today, Y/N, I meant it.” He said simply as he encouraged you forward by the small of your back. You sounded as though you were going to say something but acquiesced when he patted your hip twice before pulling his hand away from you.

“You don’t wear a lot of colour, I’ve noticed.” Sirius offered, swinging the bags he was carrying casually in his hands as the two of you slowly made your way through the mall after purchasing shoes ‘to go with the dresses, doll’ and even some sodding bags ‘think of it as an investment, gorgeous; you’re an employee, and working for me comes with a uniform. I’m providing you with a uniform’.

You looked at him sideways as you continued walking, trying to ignore the feeling of everyone doing double takes to see a girl looking so plain with designer bags in her hands and a certified adonis by her side. If he hadn’t told you his favourite colour was black, you would have guessed as much just from the sheer amount of it he wore. But whereas you wore a fair amount of black in an attempt to disappear - to blend in - he seemed to do it to make his own statement; it stood out in stark contrast against his fair skin, and depending on what he was wearing, complimented his many (visible) tattoos nicely. It also left his eyes - a grey blue - appearing that much more brilliantly bright and striking.

All this to say, he wasn’t one to talk.

“No…” You allowed. “Neither do you, though.”

“Touche.” He offered you with a wink - or, what you were sure was a wink - behind his sunglasses as the window-pane roof let in an unusual amount of sunlight for this time of year in the UK. “Why don’t you, though?”

You sighed as you stepped onto the escalator going down and redistributed your bags in your hands instead of answering right away. “I get looked at more than I’d like to already.” You admitted quietly. “I… I get enough attention, I don’t need to garner any more.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could feel his gaze on you before he nodded his head in your periphery. “I get that, I think. Growing up in a political family came with a lot of attention. Then being the runaway, then playing the poster child again.”

You hummed an acknowledgement. “You seem to lean into it, though?” You hadn’t meant it to be offensive, but when Sirius’ mouth opened in a disbelieving laugh, your stomach dropped. “Not- no, I’m- that’s not what I-”

“Relax, babe. I get it.” He waved you off as the two of you stepped off the escalator. “It’s true; I always sort of figured, they’re looking at me anyways, you know? Might as well give them something to talk about.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, only breaking it to apologise when one of you brushed against the other with one of the many bags adorning your hands.

“Where’d you park?” Sirius asked as the two of you stepped out into the daylight. Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through.

You were expecting to shop for maybe one dress for tomorrow’s dinner, and you were planning to shove the garment into your purse for the train ride back home. There was simply no way you could manage public transport with this many bags, and the chances of you being mugged on your way increased significantly for every designer bag you had.

You wondered if the clothes would even be safe in your flat at all, knowing the only locks that you trusted were the chain bolted to the front door that you installed yourself, and the piece of wood you jammed in your window at the fire escape so no one could open it from the outside.

“Y/N?”

“No. Uhm, sorry.” You started, looking towards Sirius but not necessarily at him. “Actually, I’m- well, do you think I could keep them at your place? I…I don’t- I don’t necessarily want my neighbours knowing I have this kind of stuff in my flat.”

Sirius’ eyes softened and you felt a little guilty at the half truth, but soldiered on. “I’d just hate to come home from work one day to find it all missing, you know?” You tried to joke.

You swore Sirius’ mouth pinched slightly before he schooled his expression and redistributed the bags he was currently holding into one hand and held out his free one to take yours.

“Oh! I could help-”

“That’s alright, doll, I’ve got it.” He said as he relinquished your bags from you. “Tomorrow, then? I assume you’ll be getting ready at my place? Do you want a ride?”

“No! No, that’s alright, I’ll meet you there if you just want to send me your address.”

The two of you said goodbye and you watched Sirius walk through the car park until he disappeared behind a row of vehicles, and you stepped back into the mall to wait for the next train that didn’t come for another 45 minutes.

Sirius let out a breath as he closed the door to his and Remus’ townhouse behind him; the sounds of the London streets melting away to the odd honk or occasional car door closing as he began searching their home.

He needn’t search long, however, finding Remus exactly where he knew he would be.

”Did’ya have a good day?” Remus asked without looking up from the potatoes he was peeling, though he did turn his face slightly to reciprocate the kiss Sirius pressed to his cheek.

“Yeah, not bad.” Sirius agreed in an exhale as he disposed of the many shopping bags onto the kitchen island.

Remus opened his mouth as he turned - no doubt about to scold Sirius for messing up his clean kitchen - when his face pinched in confusion.

”I thought you were going shopping for Y/N?”

“We did.”

”Sirius!”

”Remus.” Sirius shot back as he made himself comfortable on one of the high stools.

”You’re going to scare her away.” Remus muttered as he washed and dried his hands before coming over to peek inside of the bags, pulling the documents you had returned to Sirius out of one of them.

“She was much more tolerable than you were when I first took you shopping.”

Remus shot him an unimpressed glare though he didn’t bother gracing him with a response as he leaned back against the counter and flipped through the pages in his hands. “Why didn’t she take any of this with her?” He asked as he motioned to the bags now littering his kitchen island.

Sirius felt his own mouth pinch in displeasure as he recounted your reasoning. “She said she was worried her neighbours would see - didn’t want anyone to know she had anything of value in her flat.”

Remus made a sympathetic hum as Sirius pondered what it was exactly about that sentiment that left such a bad taste in his mouth.

“Sounds like my flat back on 31st.”

Sirius groaned at the memory of Remus’ flat he had back in university. Sirius had spent the first eight months of his and Remus’ relationship begging him to move in with him and James; he’d already spent most nights there in Sirius’ bed anyways! But Remus was proud and argued with Sirius when he said as much.

”I hated when you lived there.” He grumbled, and Sirius pretended not to notice Remus’ eyebrow lift as he considered him.

“Yeah?” He asked as he turned back towards his potatoes with a muted grin. “So did I.”

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dippindaz · 1 month ago

Note

Eddie Munson x reader: they support him as he goes on his first tour & she gets jealous of his girl fans

Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy ❤️ ends with some good old fluff of course.

The van rumbled beneath you as Corroded Coffin’s tour vehicle winds down another lonely stretch of highway. The guys are in the back, swapping riffs and yelling over who gets to control the cassette deck next. Eddie’s laughter rings out, carefree and warm, but you’re sitting shotgun, staring out the window, your thoughts a million miles away.

The tour was supposed to be everything Eddie dreamed of—his big break, the culmination of years spent pouring his soul into music. And you were thrilled for him, genuinely. You’d quit your job and packed your bags to be by his side, to make sure he didn’t lose himself in the chaos of the road.

But no one warned you about the screaming girls.

They swarm at every stop, clutching at Eddie like he’s the second coming of Ozzy. He takes it all in stride, charming smiles and playful winks, basking in the attention without a second thought. You know he loves you, but every autograph he signs, every picture he poses for with an arm slung around some adoring fan, feels like a pinprick to your chest.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie’s voice startles you. He’s climbed into the passenger seat, leaning back with his arms crossed, his usual easy grin replaced with a look of concern. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly, your gaze fixed on the horizon.

He tilts his head, studying you. “Liar.”

Eddie’s dark eyes linger on you, searching for cracks in your armor. “C’mon princess. Don’t do that thing where you bottle it up until it explodes. Talk to me.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s nothing, Eddie. Really. Just tired from the drive.”

“Right,” he says, drawing out the word skeptically. His fingers drum idly on the dashboard, but his expression remains serious. “Well, when you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on, I’m here.”

You force a small smile, but it feels brittle. “Thanks.”

Eddie watches you for another moment, then sighs and stands. “Alright, Miss ‘I’m Fine.’ But you owe me one later.” He plants a kiss on the crown of your head before retreating to the back of the van, his energy magnetic as always, drawing the guys back into their chaotic jam session.

You let out a slow breath, the tension in your chest refusing to fade. The rest of the drive passes in a blur of laughter and off-key singing from the band, but you barely hear it, too busy wrestling with the ache that’s been gnawing at you since the tour began.

—————————————————————————

The venue is loud, packed with fans pressed shoulder to shoulder, a sea of heads bobbing to the beat of Corroded Coffin’s set. Eddie is electric on stage, commanding the crowd with every growl of his guitar and every howl into the mic. His hair flies as he moves, sweat glistening under the stage lights.

You’re proud of him. God, you’re so proud of him. But standing on the sidelines, you feel like an outsider in his world.

When the band wraps their set, the crowd explodes into cheers, and the guys bask in the adoration as they head backstage. You linger behind, watching as a cluster of girls presses against the barricade, calling Eddie’s name. He’s stopped to sign a few things, that grin of his plastered across his face. One of the girls leans in close, shouting something you can’t make out that makes him laugh.

Your stomach twists. You know it’s nothing—Eddie has never given you a reason to doubt him—but the insecurity and unease claws at you.

“Hey, you coming?” Gareth calls from the side door, snapping you out of your trance.

“Yeah,” you mumble, forcing your legs to move.

————————————-————————————

The backstage room is a frenzy of noise—gear being packed up, beers being cracked open, and the guys reliving their favorite moments from the show. Eddie is the center of it all, animated as he recounts some joke a fan told him.

You sit on the edge of a couch, picking at your fingers, trying to blend into the background. Eddie notices eventually, his grin faltering as his gaze locks onto you. He excuses himself from the group, weaving through the chaos until he’s standing in front of you.

“Hey,” he says softly, crouching to meet your eye level. “You’ve been off all day. What’s going on?”

You shake your head, forcing a smile. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” he says without hesitation, his brows furrowing. “You’re not fine. You barely said a word during the drive, you didn’t even watch most of the set, and now you’re sitting here like a ghost. Talk to me.”

Your chest tightens. “Eddie, I said I’m fine. Can we just drop it?”

“No, we can’t just drop it!” His voice is sharper than he intended, but he took a deep breath to steady himself and glanced around the area. “Look, I know something’s bothering you, and I can’t fix it if you won’t let me in.”

The frustration and exhaustion bubble up, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“Fine! You want to know what’s bothering me? It’s those girls, Eds. The ones who throw themselves at you after every show. The ones who look at you like you’re the only person in the world.”

Eddie blinks, taken aback. “Wait, what? You’re jealous?”

You cross your arms, feeling both exposed and defensive. “I’m not jealous. I just… I don’t like the way they act around you, okay? And I don’t like how easy it is for you to smile at them like it’s nothing.”

His expression softens as he stands and takes a step closer. “Angel, you know they don’t mean anything to me.”

“I know that,” you snap, your voice wavering. “But it’s hard to feel like I matter when there’s a line of girls getting your attention, and your winks, and laughs.”

Eddie stares at you, guilt flickering across his face. He opens his mouth to respond but hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, your anger fading into a dull ache. “I feel like I’m just here, watching you live your dream while I fade into the background.”

Eddie shifted, sinking down onto the couch beside you, his shoulders slumping. “You’re not in the background,” he says, his voice low and steady. “You’re the reason I’m here. You believed in me when no one else did. Hell, you believed in me when I didn’t.”

You glance at him, tears burning your eyes. “Then why does it feel like I’m competing for your attention?”

He exhales slowly, reaching out to take your hand. “I’m an idiot. I’ve been so caught up in all this—the shows, the fans—that I didn’t stop to think about how it might feel for you. But you’re not competing, okay? You’re the only thing I want in this world and I’d give it all up for you. Nothing even comes close to you.”

You look down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, Eddie… but I don’t want to hold you back either.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly, leaning closer. “You couldn’t lose me if you tried. I’m yours, sweetheart. Always. And you’re not holding me back.”

The tension between you eased and Eddie tugged you into his arms, holding you tightly. His embrace is warm and familiar, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I’ll do better,” he murmurs against your hair. “I’ll make sure you know how much you mean to me. Starting now.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah? How are you gonna do that?”

He smirks, the mischievous glint in his eye returning. “How about a private serenade? Just you, me, and my guitar?”

You laugh softly, the sound easing the last of the tension in your chest. “That sounds like a good start.”

Eddie grins and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good. Now let’s get out of here. I think we’ve had enough of this circus for one night.”

With his arm wrapped around you, Eddie leads you out of the noisy backstage area, his presence steady and reassuring. For the first time in days, the knot in your chest began to unwind.

Because as long as you have Eddie, the rest doesn’t matter.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie munson #stranger things Eddie Munson x reader #stranger things Eddie Munson x you #stranger things Eddie x reader #stranger things Eddie x you

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liliansun · 1 year ago

Text

two “rules” one problem

pairing : ex-bff!hyuck x fem!reader

wc : 14.8k

synopsis : despite your history, you and haechan couldn’t stand each other. that is till you’re paired up for a project and he’s just desperate enough for your help with his love life with the acception of his stupid rules

genre : enemies2lovers (best trope), ex-childhood friends to lovers (also best trope), fake dating, angst, fluff, college au

warnings : swearing, kissing, alcohol, haechan gets jealous, lying, uhh idk what else but lmk if i missed something (not proof read so i’m sorry 🥲)

If there was one thing twelve year old donghyuck wanted more in this world, other than his mom’s cooking, it was his two best friends coming together. You had been his friend since birth, both your mom’s bonding together before the two of you even came into the world. They met in a birth class, having similar due dates helped them both find comfort and friendship within each other compared to the other moms in the class that were farther along than them. They had already planned playdates after both you and donghyuck were born and even after all that time, they stayed true to those plans.

Your earliest memories have donghyuck in them in some shape, way or form. Whether he was attending you birthday party, or you to his, all the way to the two of you sharing the same home room when you both started school. The dynamic between you two was truly unmatched, something that could never be touched or fault. When you two got older, not much had changed. The excitement of high school had you both buzzing as each day passed through your final years of being just below the line of being a teenager.

Although you both were attached by the hip, you still found space in your young life to befriend other people, or at least donghyuck did. Thats how mark lee came into the picture, being a transfer student in the middle of the year made it hard for him to settle in and become comfortable. Donghyuck saw mark sitting along during lunch one sunny afternoon and although the two had a bit of a rocky start, their friendship blossomed into something that they both needed. Now that he had such a connection with his new found friend, all he wanted to do is share his love for mark with you. You thought you were a welcoming person, easy to get along with and fairly nice, but the day donghyuck brought you and mark together would just so happen be the day you lost your best friend.

“I’m telling you, that doesn’t sound right to me.”

Mark rolls his eyes, laughing a little under his breath as he strums his slender fingers against the strings on his guitar. “Its not finished yet, gotta trust the process.” You simply reply with a hum as you watch mark fiddle and try to tune the strings to his liking. The two of you were cooped up in his dorm room, him sitting on the edge of his bed with the instrument rested in his lap while you opted to sit in the chair that usually was tucked under his desk. “What are you doing here anyway, don't you have other friends to bother instead?” Rolling your eyes, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. “Actually, no i don't, i thought we went over this. Yeongmin is off studying so she can’t aid my boredom.”

Mark continued strumming along the strings till he got a rhythm he liked and started to hum along with the tune that was filling the room. “I swear you’re gonna be famous one of these days.” Looking down at your phone, you notice the groupchat you’re in with your friends is going off. “That would be nice actually.” Unlocking your phone, a smile spreads across your lips at the messages that were popping up. “Maybe if you didn’t have crippling stage fright, you’d be able to actually play the songs you sing to more people than just me.” A gentle laugh left mark’s throat as he set the guitar down on its stand beside his bed. “Actually, I sing to Haechan too, so don’t come for me.” His name left a sour taste in your mouth, your face scrunching up as you try to block out his stupid face in your mind. Mark could tell you two still weren’t on good terms, but he didn’t want to push it again and opted to pick up his phone that was vibrating on his bed.

You stole a glace at the screen, catching the name of the caller id. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You mumble underneath your breath. Mark answers the facetime call, holding his phone in his hand, but opting to hold it further down at an angle. “Yo, whats up?” The background noise was windy, letting both you and mark know that he must've been outside. “Bro where have you been, i've been looking for you for hours!”

“If you didn’t find him, he obviously didn’t wanna be found, but if its you he’s hiding from who can blame him.” Mumbling beneath your breath, but mark still heard you. “Hey, you be nice over there.” haechan looked confused on the screen, strolling around on campus to his unknown destination. “Are you talking to yourself again?” mark turned his camera around, showing you sitting comfortably in his chair as you scroll mindlessly on social media. “No, im not talking to myself again, y/n is here.” by the mention of your name, haechan rolled his eyes. “Why is she always there when im coming over.”

“I didn't even know you're coming over.” added in his defense after switching his camera back around. “If that thing is on his way, i’m out.” you piped up, grabbing your bag from off the floor as you stood up from the chair. “Text me when you make it in at least?” mark felt helpless sometimes. He never truly understood what went down between you and haechan all those years ago, but splitting his free time between the two of could could be more challenging some days than others. If he wasn’t chilling with you in the comfort of the few places you knew haechan wouldn’t be caught dead near like your dorm or the library, he was chilling with haechan and the friend group they developed over the years being in college.

“Will do, have fun with the devils incarnate.” You say back as you’re opening the door to make your exit. Just as you’re leaving, you come face to face with something firm or shall you say someone. “Do you ever use those eyes of yours or are they just there for decoration?” you recognized that voice from anywhere, it being the same voice belonging to the one person you were hoping not to see on your way out. “Can you move lee, or are you just that self absorbed to think that I could just see you standing outside the door before it was even open?” Haechan scoffed as you walked past him, huffing as you nudge him with your shoulder to get him out of your way. From mark’s dorm to yours wasn't a far walk, which was good for you when you needed to get out of your room or just needed his help on an assignment. Unfortunately for you, it meant that haechan too didn’t have much of a far walk either seeing that his dorm hall was across from yours.

When you get into your room, your roommate wonchae looked up from her phone as she was laid out on her bed. “I thought you were at mark’s for a few hours?” Tossing your bag down beside the door you huff as you walk over to your bed and crawl underneath the blanket after removing your shoes. “I was till donghyuck decided to grace mark with his presence.” Wonchae giggled as she sits up, looking at you getting comfortable beneath your blanket as you pull your phone out. “Wanna call the girls over for a movie night instead?” you glance over at her, a smile spreading across your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbow. “As long as we’re not too loud again, we can’t afford another complaint this month.” Wonchae was already texting the groupchat before you could even finish your sentence. The night proceeded with you and your friends having a movie marathon despite your early class in the morning. You assumed it wouldn’t be too much to unwind a bit, binge watching three movies back to back. Somehow, you didn’t make it to your bed when you initially planned to due to the twins, wonchae and yechae convincing you to pull through the last movie.

Since the time on the clock read after midnight by the time the movies were finished, the three girls opted to sleep over with you and your roommate instead of taking the risk of going back to their own dorms. Yeongmin’s dorm was the furthest from yours, being about a twenty minute walk and you all collectively agreed she especially was sleeping over. Somehow you and yeongmin both managed to fit in your tiny bed for the night while the twins and sin-ra snuggled up on wonchae’s bed across the room. By the next morning, you woke up to the sound of yeongmin snoring in your ear beside you. She had her arms and legs tangled in yous, trying to pry her off you as you crane your neck to look over at the time clock on your desk. Your worst fears were confirmed when the time read nine after when your first class was supposed to finish. Quickly getting out of the warmth of your bed, you scramble to get ready and are out the door before you can properly apologize for waking everyone up.

If you were lucky, or rather fast enough, you can catch your professor before he starts his next class and get the notes on what you missed. You make a mental note to thank yourself when you set up your schedule for this semester for giving you breaks in between classes, especially on the midday schedules. As your toppling up the stairs leading into the building, you spot haechan leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He hadn’t noticed you thankfully, not wanting him to hold the fact that you almost busted your face open trying to get inside over your head. He looked so into thought, looking out over the campus as you take the opportunity to grip the railing to catch your breath.

“Look who decided to show up for class today.” rolling your eyes, you straighten your posture as he pulls himself off the wall he once was comfortably leaning against. “Don’t start with me today, i almost died trying to get over here to catch professor choi before his next class.”

“Don't bother, he cut class short for some family emergency or something, but i can fill you in if you fix your attitude.” He truly was the epitome of your frustration. “Just tell me what i missed so i can get away from you as quickly as possible.” there was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he tools steps towards you. “Looks like you’re not gonna get too far, we’re partnered up for a presentation.”

If the universe didn’t already hate you, you’d think this was your first sign. “I can always request a partner switch, you know?” Haechan only laughs in response, clutching the bag hung over his shoulder with one hand. “Good luck with that, he made it pretty clear that he wasn’t giving in because this will be counted towards our final.” a sigh left your lips as you accepted your fate, you and haechan would have to spend an unknown amount of hours in each others presence without any chance at getting around it. “Just meet me after our next class and we can go over it then.” WIth that, you turned on your heals and made your way to the nearest cafe to get something in your body since you didn’t have the opportunity to grab breakfast. Thankfully for you, your campus was notorious for its tiny cafes placed around all of campus which not only helped feed your caffeine addiction, it helped other students make some money as they swim in student dept.

As good as every cafe you’ve been to on campus can be, none of them compare to the baristas at cafe neo, something about the way those boys make your drinks just the way you like them has been without a doubt why you only trust them with your order. As you make your way across campus and the cafe is within sight, you over hear a conversation between the two girls in front of you. “Oh my god, look what bomi just posted!” the one to your right gasped, whipping out her phone as she brings it to the slightly shorter girls attention. “You’re kidding, isn’t she dating haechan?” you’re trying not to be nosy, not fond of listening into other peoples conversation, but at the mention of haechan’s name, you can’t help, but keen in. “Guess not anymore, look at the caption, those hearts are definitely more than just friendly.”

The two part off of the way you were going, leaving you with little information as to what their reactions were about. You had just saw haechan, judging by his usual cocky and self absorbing nature, he seemed all but heartbroken. You push your wondering thoughts aside as you enter in the cafe, smiling over at the tall boy who stood behind the counter. “Welcome to cafe neo– oh hi y/n!” his nametag read jisung, but you always referred to him as the cute underclassman who blushed when you tipped him. “Hi ji, anything new on the menu?” Jisung smiled at you as you walk up to the counter. “Nothing today, chenle is still brainstorming over ideas to ask the culinary department on what they can come up with in the back, you just want the usual?” You skim over the menu that was hanging on the wall behind him, as if you got anything different, but it never hurt to look. “Mmm, yeah, just one please.”

Getting the money from your pocket, you lay it on the counter as he typed in your order on the screen in front of him. It’s times like this that make you wonder how often you come here for this boy to know your order by heart. He takes the money you laid out for him and as he tries to hand you your change, you throw your hand up in refusal. “No, you keep it, you boys work too hard.” theres a slight pinkish tent to his cheeks as he slips the few bills and coins in the glass jar beside the front of the counter. “I’ll call you when its ready!”

Throughout the rest of the day, you take your perfectly made drink with you to your next class and go about your day, everything feeling as normal as it could. One thing that slightly bothered you were the hushed whispers of Haechan’s relationship and how quickly his ex girlfriend seemed to move on. People were coming up with theories amongst themselves as to what could’ve happened and if Haechan knew. Just like you, some said he seemed fine for the first part of the day till the alleged post was made from which you overheard. You didn’t pay it any mind and went about your day till you were back in your room for the night.

“And if you carry this number, you should get one of these answers down here.”

“And how do i know if i got them right?”

“We won’t know till we actually try, now won’t we?” Jaemin, the guy who you shared a math class with last semester, asked you to tutor him this semester so that he might actually have a chance of passing the class and getting out of this hellhole. His words, not yours. “Or, brillant idea, you can use your pretty brain and show me which answer is correct.” Jaemin was indeed a smart guy, but it was moments like these that you questioned if he really had a multi functioning organ in that skull of his or was it just hot air. “Not a chance, solve it the way I showed you and we’ll go from there.” With a defeated huff, he finally puts the pencil that he has been fiddling with the last few minutes to work.

The two of you met in the library near his hall regularly, about twice during the week and an extra day is added when he has an upcoming test and if you have the time. The library usually was quiet around this time of day, most keeping to themselves as they cater to their own work, but for some reason you felt a pair of eyes staring at the back of your head. Just as you’re about to take a look around the room, the chair beside you is being pulled out and haechan finds himself in the seat next to you. “Where have you been?” you look over at him, slightly shocked to see him actually in the library. “Excuse me?” His face tells you that he’s annoyed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he leans into your personal space. “I said, where have you been, i've been all over campus for you and had to result to mark to find you.”

You motion to Jaemin who was focused in on the problem in front of him, or at least he was when you last looked his way. Now he has his signature grin on his lips, flashing his teeth as he witness the unwelcomed tension between you and haechan. “For your information, i’m tutoring pretty boy over here and your grumpiness is interrupting him.” Jaemin’s smile widens even more as the vein in Haechan’s forehead looks like it about to pop. “I, quite frankly, don’t give a fuck. maybe send someone a text next time so i don’t have to look so desprate to find you.” You scoff, sitting back in your seat as you realize his undertones. Who was he to say that looking for you made him look desperate, he literally is desperate in this moment.

“Sorry to break up this beautiful moment, but its about that time for me to go, so y/n, same time next week?” Nodding, you let out a sigh as Jaemin starts to pack his things into his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “There, happy now? You ran off Jaemin.” haechan ignores you, pulling his laptop out of his own bag and sets it onto the table. “We have roughly a month and a half to pump out a fucking book of an essay and make a slide point presentation, the faster we get this finished the less I have to see you in my free time.” He was truly unbelievable, first he comes and interrupts your personal time to help the needy, needy being Jaemin and his need to pass his class, and now he throws wanting to get away from you as quickly as he can? You are definitely adding this to the list of why you hate him.

The two of you go over the topic you were given, trying to break down the work between the two of you into categories: what you can do separate and what you’ll have to do together. Since you both were already here, you decided it would be best to get a head start on the research portion. Time must’ve caught up with you both, wrapping things up right before the library closed for the night. “I can’t look at this screen anymore, lets just end it here and meet up another day.” You grab your forgotten bag from the floor, carrying it on your arm as Haechan packs up his laptop. By the time he is done, you’re already making your way out the door and dredging the walk back to your dorm. Quick approaching steps trail behind you as haechan jogs to catch up to you. “Woah, not so fast, aren’t you forgetting something?” you don’t bother to stop, continuing your walk as he walks beside you. “And that is?”

“We don’t have any way of contacting each other, idiot, so give me your number.” You halt your movements and with a sigh, turn to face him. The bright sky from when you first entered the library earlier is now replaced with the deep colors of the night. The moon was full, shining its light down and being your only real light to see haechan’s features that seem more soft in this setting. “Do you still remember my number?” Haechan looks taken aback, looking at you with a lingering confusion in his eyes. “You still have that number?”

“Mhm, so if you still know it then there’s your way of getting to me.” You’re about to turn and make your way to your dorm, your stomach urging you to find food soon. Haechan was chewing on his bottom lip, reaching out for your arm as he watched you try to walk away. “What is it donghyuck? I’m hungry and tired, what could you possibly want now?” The wind leaves his lungs as you say his name. Once he got to high school, many people started sticking him with the nickname Haechan, the reasoning behind it was his bright smile and personality, but you still saw him as donghyuck even after all this time.

“Just come with me, your dorm is too far to be walking at this time of night.” You didn’t get a chance to protest, he was already dragging you along with him to his car parked out front. “Fine, but I swear if you try to kill me with your driving I will come back to haunt your ugly ass.” You earn a snicker from him, his hand still holding your arm till you two reach his car and you slide into his passenger seat. Haechan fits perfectly into the drivers seat, putting the keys into the ignition and starting up his car once you are locked in. The two of you don’t say much, letting the radio fill in the silence of the drive. You’re too busy looking out the window to realize he passes up your hall, looking over at him with confusion once you see an unfamiliar street.

“Uhm, where are we going?”

“Dinner.” The words fall from his mouth so nonchalantly that you don’t question it any further, sinking into the seat as you let him drive to wherever he wanted. You’re not exactly sure why, but part of you always wanted a moment like this. Sitting in the car with Haechan, driving around town till it got dark was one thing you dreamt of back when you were both young, back when you still could see yourself in his future. Now that you’re doing it, it almost feels foreign. Sure, everything about his car screamed Haechan, the little things dangling from his rear view mirror gave that away, but the boy beside you was far from familiar. He was uncharted territory, someone you barely knew and to be beside him, being this close to him brought on a headache you weren’t expecting.

The two of you pull through the Taco Bell drive through, getting in line behind the cars. “What do you want?” You tell him your order after glancing over the menu. Even though you already knew what you wanted, you still wanted to give it some time to tell him in the order you wanted it. You were the type of person who wasn’t afraid of change, but didn’t go out of your way to invite it either. Always ordering the same thing from each place you go, you found comfort in the things that could always remain the same, like your Taco Bell order.

After your order is put through, you’re pulling your wallet out to give him cash for your part. “Here, this is for the food.” Haechan simply ignores you, handing over his card to the guy at the window. “Hello? Take the cash before I take it back.” After getting his card back, he slips it into his pocket and pulls forward. “Save your money, y/n, it’s not a big deal.” He seemed short with you tonight, not speaking up or putting much of a fight into it like he usually did in the passing times you two saw one another. It felt odd to see him brush you off, an unsettling feeling washing over you as you put the money back into your wallet.

After he had gotten the food and your two drinks, he whipped his car around and parked in a spot on the side of the building. “Are you fine eating here, I’m kinda hungry and don’t wanna have to wait till we get back.”

“No, yeah, it’s fine, but are you okay?”

You could see his body tense up at your question, pushing the straw into your drink before doing so to his own. “I guess, why do you care?” You’re sorting through the bag, grabbing what you assumed was his and handing it over to him. He goes to grab his food from your hand, your fingers brushing against each other’s for a moment. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, the warmth of his hand against yours, but it felt all too familiar and you almost jerk back as he quickly grabs the food. “Because I’m a decent human being and I knew you well enough back then to know that something is off.”

If you could read his thoughts, you’d see how badly your words hurt him just now. You were far from wrong, you truly did know him like the back of your hand and maybe even better than he knew himself, but too much time between you two had you both wondering if you knew anything about each other anymore. Amongst the burning anger you both have for one another, there was still some sort of longing within you that had you both slightly questioning the downfall of your friendship, but never enough to where either would act on it. “I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to think of opening up to someone I hate.”

“Then don’t think about it right now, if you need someone to talk to then do so. If it means forgetting you hate me just to get it off your chest, do so donghyuck.” A somber smile finds its way onto his lips as he tears open the wrapping that covered his food. “You’re a little too nice to me for someone who hates me just as much as I hate them.”

“Just because I hate you doesn’t mean I’m evil, I have a heart too you know?”

“Oh really, I never would’ve guessed judging by the lifeless look in your eyes.” You roll your eyes at his jab, mumbling something about dropping it before relishing in your food. The two of you don’t talk much after that, sitting in his car with the only form of sounds filling it were you two eating till he dropped you off. After getting in, wonchae gave you a weird look as you looked both defeated and exhausted. You told her you had a rough day and wanted sleep to be the reason you forgot about it.

You hadn’t seen or heard from Haechan since the night he bombarded you in the middle of your study session with Jaemin then took you out to Taco Bell. Sure, you’d see him in your shared class, but not once did his eyes meet yours and he kept every snarky remark to himself if he had any. You didn’t pay it any mind, assuming whatever was going on with him would pass and he’d be back to his normal asshole-like self soon. In between your classes for the day, you decided to slip off to the neo cafe for some well needed caffeine to keep you going through the day. While you were here, you planned to slip off in a quiet corner and let the music they play in the small room milk your brain to help you continue working on the parts of your presentation with Haechan.

As you’re walking up to the counter, you notice Jisung was nowhere to be found and you opt to wait patiently by the counter. The ring of the bell signaling the doors movement doesn’t catch your attention, but the familiar voice behind you does when you turn your head to the boy who called your name. “Can I help you?” Haechan hadn’t turned to look at you, his eyes scanning over the menu. “What’s good here, do you know?” You give him a puzzled look, wondering where this small talk came from. “Uhm, if your taste buds are even remotely the same, I’d say you’d get the sweet honey taro drink, it comes iced or hot.” He simply nods, tearing his eyes from the menu and lets his gaze fall onto you. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, trying to find something that felt familiar behind them, but all you could see was the void behind his golden irises.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting! Chenle was about to burn down the kitchen so I had to step away for a second.” Jisung’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, turning to him with a soft smile. “That’s okay ji, I’m more than happy to wait if that meant this sacred place would still be my caffeine plug.” Jisung smiles as he enters your order, his attention going from yours to Haechan whose gaze has yet to leave your figure. Your eyes follow Jisung’s, looking over at Haechan. “Oh, no we’re not—“

“I’ll just have what she’s having.” Haechan pulls out some cash from his back pocket, bringing it out for Jisung. Your mind couldn’t wrap itself around Haechan’s weird demeanor lately, he not only has been nice to you, but he’s paid for you twice. You knew he was sick in the head, but now you’re guessing it’s more than just his mental stability. When Jisung gives Haechan his change, you fumble with your pocket and pull out a few bills to throw into the tip jar, something you didn’t want to miss even if you weren’t the one paying. Jisung silently thanked you with his smile, to which you returned and told you both that he’d call you when your drinks were ready.

You were about to start questioning the weirdly quiet Haechan before he motioned for you both to move over to a table a little further in a corner. The two of you sat down, setting your bag against your chair as you prop your elbows up onto the table. “Okay, you’re acting weird and it’s starting to make me feel uncomfortable.” Haechan’s lips part as he goes to speak, but Jisung’s presence interrupts him as the younger boy sets both the cups down. “Thanks, ji.” You said, grabbing one of the drinks and bringing it towards you. “Y/n, back in the car you said something that I’ve been thinking about lately.” He had your full attention, something that made him oddly feel sheer to you. You were leaned in, your body language letting him know that you were listening, despite the awkwardness of the moment.

“You said that even though you hate me, you still have a heart too.” Nodding in confirmation, you remember saying it, but it didn’t make sense as to why he was bringing it up. “I, uhm, don’t know if you heard or not, but my girlf—my ex broke up with me recently and I really want to get her back.” You bring the cup in your hands to your lips, taking in a slow sip in case his next words are your cause of death. “And the only way I can think to do that is to make her jealous and I know what you’re thinking and I can hear it now, but just hear me out?” There it was, his intentions and reasoning behind his odd behavior lately. As you process his words, you already know where this is going and your drink decides to be the one to take you out today instead. You start to choke as the liquid goes off its track and nearly comes back through your nose.

Haechan’s eyes widen, staring at you in surprise as you try to gain back the air that just left your lungs as you cough. “Are you okay?” You simply nod, patting your chest as your drink is put back onto the table and you’re taking in slow breaths to steady yourself in the seat. “Uh yeah, no wait, okay hold on, you want to do what now?” The boy across from you drops his head slightly, feeling embarrassed by even bringing up the situation. Yeah, he wanted his ex back, he truly loved her, or so that’s what he thought it was. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but you’re the only person I thought of.”

“And what makes you think it’ll be believable? I mean the whole campus knows we hate each other.”

“But they also know we have history, plus this project will be a good enough cover to make them believe we had some spark going off or whatever.” You stay silent, contemplating the whole ordeal. On one hand, this could go terribly wrong in many ways, people could not believe you two and this could blow up in your face for the rest of your time at this university or it could go great and once he’s back in the arms of his ex lover, he’ll finally leave your hair for good. “I’m not saying yes, so don’t get too excited, but if I were to think about it, what do I get out of it?” Haechan knew you were going to want something, a slight smirk forming in the corners of his lips. In his mind, he guesses some things never change and with that, neither have you. “I’ll leave you alone after this, no more bickering or picking at you and shit—oh and I’ll do half of your work for the project!”

Damn, he truly was desperate. You press your lips together, trying to debate if this truly would be worth it. The outcome, if good, would be best for both parties and maybe you’d finally have a peaceful rest of your time here. Something deep down inside tells you it’s a bad idea, but you choose to ignore it because if it meant he’d take over half of what you have to do on your shared presentation, more free time for you. “I have to go to class, but I’ll let you know by later tonight.” Your watch indicated if you didn’t leave now, you’d be late for your next class and since you have a lab today, you especially didn’t want to miss it. You go to stand, one hand holding your bag while the other grabs your cup. Haechan stands too, his bag still hanging on his shoulder as he goes to grab his cup. The two of you exit the Neo cafe quietly, unaware of the lingering eyes that follow you two out.

After your final class, you make a b-line to Mark’s dorm where he was expecting you. It had been a few days since you two had time to hang out and you both were taking the opportunity to have some study time together in the quiet of his dorm. Once he signs you in as a guest, you both go up to his dorm and make yourselves comfortable, you being at his desk and him sitting on his bed. “What do you have to get done?” Pulling out your notes from your lab along with your laptop, you set everything out on his desktop. “Just going over some notes and typing them into a small essay for class, you?”

“Man, I got a quiz to study for and since professor moon likes to give them at the worst times possible, I gotta get as much as I can in.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you both busy yourselves in what you were doing, Mark had his speaker on and chose a calming playlist he created for when you two would study like this. The music really did help you stay focused, having something to fill the room to keep your brain from getting off track. You’re about halfway done typing away on your laptop when your phone buzzes beside it. Glancing over, you notice a few missed notifications from your shared group chat with your friends, a few social media notifications and a text from an unknown number. You’re about to pick up your phone to see who texted you when an incoming call pops up on the screen, the same number that texted you.

You slide your thumb across your phone, bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text.” Of course it would be Haechan, who else were you expecting. In all honesty, you did expect him to text you at some point, but the call was a surprise for you. “I’m studying, like you should be doing too.”

“I need to know your answer, don’t get too excited.” You can practically feel him smirking through the phone followed by some shuffling. “Where are you anyway? I stopped by your hall and you weren’t there.”

Your posture straightens, wondering who he asked and what he told them when we made his way to your dorm. “You did what? Are you insane?” Haechan laughs, a soft laugh as you lean back in the seat. “Slightly, I’ve been told that’s a part of my charm though.” Rolling your eyes, you huff before looking over your shoulder at mark. “I’m with a friend, why?”

“Tell me where you’re at unless you want me to go to every hall on campus.”

“You’re fucking psycho, I’m with mark, idiot.” At the mention of his name, mark looks up at you as you swivel the chair around. You mouth Haechan’s name to him to which he looked genuinely confused. “Figures, I’m on my way.” He ended the call before you could even protest, swearing under your breath as you stood up to get your things together. “Why are you—actually no, since when did you and Haechan call each other?”

“I’ll explain later, I gotta go though bub, but I appreciate you studying with me.” You gave mark an apologetic smile as you packed your bag up with your laptop, making sure to grab everything you had. “Text me when you get in.” Mark had stood up from his bed, making his way over to you to gently pull you into a hug. The two of you never hugged much, the sudden affection leaving you taken aback slightly, but nevertheless you wrap your arms around him as he did you. “I’m right across the street, I’m not going rouge.” He hums, pulling back from the hug as he gives you an uneasy smile. “Yeah, I know, but you’re going with Haechan and that’s what makes me worried.”

It too made you worried, even if you didn’t exactly agree to his lil situation he proposed earlier, that nagging feeling that it wasn’t going to end well never left you every time you gave it more thought. “I’ll be fine, plus my location is on if I don’t text you by nine.” Mark only laughs as your arms drop from around him and you leave his room. It doesn’t take you long to get out the building, spitting Haechan’s car parked in front with his passenger window rolled down. He’s leaned over, a smirk across his lips while one hand grips the top of the steering wheel. “Hop in.” He says as you make your way down to his car. Once you get in, you throw your bag in his back seat and fasten your seatbelt before Haechan takes off and drives you two off campus.

“And where exactly are we going?”

Haechan doesn’t look over at you, his eyes focused on the road, but he can feel your stare on him. He was wearing a letterman jacket with a black shirt underneath and some jeans that complemented the look, it was the first time you really took in his attire and you swore he didn’t have that jacket on earlier. “Somewhere quiet we can talk, to sort everything out for the show we’re about to put on.” He’s cocky, confident and arrogant. You hated it, hated how smug he looked as the words fell from his mouth. “I haven’t even said yes yet, did that get through your thick skull?” He takes a moment to glance over at you, his mischievous expression never faulting. “You wouldn’t be in my car with me if you didn’t want to.” Fuck him for being right and fuck him for being slightly attractive when he said it. Slightly, not very or even a full hundred percent, but slightly.

He drives you two off to an abandoned looking parking lot where he puts his car into park and turns slightly to face you. “Have you thought about it enough?” You turn to face him, getting as comfortable as you can in the seat. “I guess, but you better pull through with doing half of my part of the project or else I’ll castrate you, no hesitation.” Haechan laughs, a full laugh that has his head tilting back just a bit. You’re fighting the smile that threatens to form on your lips. “You have my word, but we have more important things to go over.” He searches your face when you remain quiet, having the same look you did back at the cafe earlier, he knew you were listening. “Okay, so I was thinking our first appearance as a newly and very much in love ‘couple’ should be at the party this weekend.”

“Scratch that, I don’t party.”

“You’re gonna have to if you wanna keep up with me.” You scowl at him, rolling your eyes mentally as you give in. “Fine, but I’m not making it a habit, I have grades to keep up ya know?” He simply nods, going over the next few things y’all as a couple would have to do together in order to pull this off. Your first outing would be at the party, to much of your disapproval and the following will fall into place like dominos. You’d start having lunch together if your schedules met up, the two of you would spend time between classes together, again if your schedules met up, then you’d also have to sit beside him in your shared class. He also made mention that he’d be picking you up and dropping you off at your dorm so that you’d always be seen with him to make it believable. “Now we need to set some ground rules.”

“Ground rules? What are we, five years old?”

A memory flashes through Haechan’s mind, back to when you two were five. You had been on the playground at school by yourself and he was off on the monkey bars when you had fallen off the swing. The ground did not aid your fall, scraping your elbow and knee which resulted in a cry that not only alerted your teacher, but haechan. When get got to you, you were sniffling over the pain and the dirt on your dress, a dress that your mom bought for you for your previous birthday. “Y/n, i told you to wait for me.” Five year old Haechan pouted as he walked with you and the teacher to the nurses office. “I wanted to swing, I didn’t think I’d get hurt.” You replied, holding his hand gently. After that day, the two of you made a rule that you’d play together to make sure if something went wrong, you’d be by each other's side.

“The first rule, no one can know, not your roommate or your friends, if you have any, not even Mark.” You scoff, hitting his arm to which he whined. “For your information, I have friends and it’s not only Mark.” Haechan rubs the sore spot on his arm as he shakes his head at you. “Yeah yeah, the voices in your head don’t count.”

“Fuck you, Lee.”

“Second rule, no falling in love, not with anyone while this is going on, which goes without saying, but no hooking up either and no falling in love with me.”

“How can anyone fall in love with someone like you?” You didn’t realize the weight of your words till you watched the smile from his face fade away. Guilt washed over you in a wave, your face dropping as you see him fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. You’re about to apologize when you see his mood shift, he turns back facing the wheel and starts his car. “Yeah, anyway, two rules and that’s that.” You don’t say anything back, turning back in your seat to fasten your seatbelt. Haechan drives you back onto campus and drops you off in front of your hall. “What time is your class in the morning?” He asks as he puts his car into park. “I think it’s an eight am class, but I’ll text you when I get in.” He nods as you free yourself and get out of his car.

Heading upstairs, the phone in your hand is going off with missed messages from your group chat with your friends. You’re smiling down at them as you push your door open, only to look up and see your four friends sitting with their arms crossed. “Oh hello, did I miss something?”

“We missed you!” Yeongmin stated, sitting with her legs crossed on your bed. “Where have you been, ma’am?” Yechae asked as she gave you a knowing smile. “I was just out, jeez, I’m sorry mom.” Sin-ra giggles as she pushes out her phone for you to see. “Uh huh, and whose car was this?” All the girls ooo at you as you sit down on your bed, filling in the spot next to Yeongmin. “You watched me!” Wonchae shook her finger at you, “What else were we supposed to do when you went missing? One minute, you’re at Mark’s dorm and the next, you’re off the grid!” The four girls immediately started questioning you as you brushed off their curiosity with half-assed answers. You wanted so badly to tell them all that’s going on and the situation you had gotten yourself into, but that was one of the two rules Haechan made. No one can know.

A loud knock on the door interrupts the conversation, all of you looking at one another. “Oh, that must be our RA, I think the pizza is here.” Yeongmin gets up from your bed and goes to open the door, unexpecting the boy who was on the other side. “Hi, uhm, is y/n here?” Haechan’s voice immediately caught your attention as you scramble off your bed while the other three girls give you wide eyed looks. “I’ll get it!” Yeongmin’s grip on the door is stronger than your force of trying to push her out the way. She moves, but not enough to where you'd be blocking their view. She only steps back, opening the door even more for them all to see him standing there with your bag in hand. “Hi, sorry, I didn’t even realize I left it.”

Haechan can tell by the look on your friends' faces that they were shocked to see him there. He had an audience and he was about to put on a show. “No problem baby, you left it in my backseat.” The sudden nickname makes your stomach flip, but you weren’t about to show him that. Instead, you reach for the bag to which he moves with his hand. “Ah ah, I want a kiss goodbye first.” You immediately glare at him to which he gives you a smirk. “Not in front of my friends, silly.” The emphasis you put on the last word has Haechan smiling even wider. “Just one for the road?” With a deep breath in, you had only two options. Kiss him and get him to leave or knee him in his most valued area, but that would be too red of a flag for your friends. You take a step closer to him, standing up on your toes as you press a quick peck on his cheek. As you do so, you grab for your bag that he still was holding, your fingers brushing against his.

“Thank you, I’ll see you in the morning?” Haechan looks dumbfounded for a minute, blinking down at you with slightly parted lips. He wasn’t expecting you to actually kiss him, so for you to do so, he was a bit taken aback. “I’ll be here, goodnight babygirl.”

The show Haechan put on caused an uproar within your friend group that lasted just long enough before the three had to go back to their rooms. They were questioning everything from what the hell that was and since when were you babygirl for anyone else, but them. When you finally admitted that he was your (fake) boyfriend, they all congratulated you on your new relationship and only wished they knew about him before.

The next morning went according to your plans you and haechan texted about the night before. He picked you up, parked right in front of your dorm before your class and even stopped by and got you a drink from the Neo cafe. After he dropped you off at your first class, you didn’t see him much till your shared class where he saved you a seat. The two of you went your separate ways after he walked you to your next class and eventually he dropped you off back at your dorm. “The party starts in a few hours so I’ll text you when I’m coming by.” He said, watching as you get out of his car. “Got it, also don’t come in again, you nearly killed my friends with your little stunt you pulled.” This earned a laugh from Haechan as you shut the door and he waited till you were inside before he pulled off.

By the time you got inside your room, all your friends were already sitting on your and wonchae’s beds as they watched a movie on your shared tv. “Oh good, just in time, the movie just started!” Yechae smiled at you as she paused the movie. “Actually, I have plans, I’m so sorry.” A pout forms on your bottom lip in hope they forgive you. “Actually, do you guys wanna come with me? Haechan is taking me to a party and I don’t wanna leave you guys here.” Sin-ra was already jumping off the bed as she went straight to your closet. “A party, fucking bet!” The other three girls join in as they raid Wonchae’s closet and you text Haechan letting him know they’re coming. To your surprise, he responds with ‘the more the merrier ;)’ and you brush off the wink as you try to hide the blush that crept onto your cheeks.

Since there were so many of you and you know already you won’t all fit in Haechan’s car, the girls opt to take Yechae’s car as well and after you all get dressed, you get a text that Haechan was waiting for you out front. “Alright, he’s here, y’all ready?”

“Go ahead and send us the address, we’ll catch up.” Yeongmin gives you a playful push out your door, turning to ask her why before she shuts the door. With that, you go ahead down to his car and open his passenger door. “Hey, the girls are gonna meet us there so can you send me the address really quick?” You haven’t looked at him yet, trying to get your phone out of your pocket. Haechan, on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. You chose to wear an off the shoulder shirt to attempt to blend in paired with some of your nicer jeans and the exposed skin has his heart racing. “Hyuck?” Turning your attention to him, you take in his attire. Leather jacket with a white undershirt and black jeans paired with a black belt. Damn, he actually looked good.

“You look beautiful, y/n.” He sounded like he didn’t mean to say that out loud, his voice barely over a whisper, but that didn’t stop the blood rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you, not too bad yourself.” Haechan’s face was similar to yours, his cheeks a soft shade of pink. Not just from your compliment, but from how effortlessly the forgotten nickname rolled off your tongue. A few minutes felt like forever passed, the two of you staring at each other with something similar in each other's eyes. For Haechan, it looked like a longing feeling swirling around in his eyes while for you, he could see the same little girl you were back when you were kids and he wonders how much time has passed since he’s seen you like this. You’re the first to break contact, looking away awkwardly as you open your phone to Yechae’s messages. “The address?”

“Huh, I’m sorry, what did you ask for?”

“I asked you earlier for the address to the party.”

Haechan’s lips formed an o as he took the phone you handed over for him. He took the phone, this time your fingers just miss each other and you can’t deny you miss the warmth that radiates from him. After he types in the address, he hands over your phone and the two of you drive silently to the party with the music volume on low. It doesn’t take you long to arrive, people coming in and out as he opts to park up front. “Isn’t it illegal to park here, I thought this was for members only?” You’re unbuckling your seatbelt as you look through the window at the Greek letters above. “Not for me it isn’t.”

His words alone leave you slightly confused, but you get out of the car and as he walks on the other side, he has his hand out for you. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Grab it, we’re a couple, remember?” Oh yeah, you’re here as his girlfriend. Right. Hesitantly, you take your hand within his and interlock your fingers. You haven’t held his hand since you were kids, but damn did it feel right. His hand, obviously larger now, fits with yours perfectly and you shove down the butterflies that climb up your throat as the two of you go inside. The room was crowded, people everywhere leaving little room to actually get through. Haechan’s grip on your hand tightens as he guides you through the room and you can feel the stares of everyone on you as you two make your entrance. The two of you find your way through the main area and over to a slightly less crowded place where some familiar guys stand around a table playing beer pong.

“I want you to meet some guys.” He says loudly to make sure you can hear him over the music. You simply nod and stand a little closer to him as people walk past you. Haechan calls over a few guys you’ve only seen in passing, one very tall and the other slightly shorter with multi-colored hair. “Johnny, Taeyong, this is my girlfriend y/n, y/n, this is Johnny and Taeyong.” Johnny, the taller one gives you a sweet smile as he grabs your free hand and brings it to his lips. “Pleasure to meet you.” Taeyong laughs as he pats the others back. “Watch it, Haechan is giving you the death glare.” Haechan drops your hand as you shyly smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his hand firmly on your hip. “It’s nice to finally meet you y/n.”

“You’ve heard of me before?”

Taeyong and Johnny exchange looks as they smirk. Haechan on the other hand turns his head as he begins to blush. “Lover boy over here talked about you nonstop when we first met him, i was starting to believe you weren’t real until he told us he finally asked you out.” Taeyong’s words came to you as a shock, not believing Haechan had talked about you to anyone before. “Believe me, he’s definitely down bad for you. You got a good one, Haechan.”

“I know.” He replies with a wide smile as you turn to face him, you’re definitely going to question him on this later. “We’re gonna go get a drink, I’ll catch up with y’all later.” His hand leaves your hip, immediately intertwining his fingers with yours as he gives both boys a hug. You wave them goodbye before Haechan leads you two into the kitchen. “Want anything?” He asks, looking over the table with a variety of alcoholic drinks. “I’ll take some water, I’m not sure if I wanna drink tonight.” He simply nods, respecting your choice as he himself grabs a beer. Just as you’re about to leave, you and haechan turn to see a girl walking in with her arm wrapped around the guy she was with.

“Haechanie, I didn’t know you were coming!”

Judging by how tense Haechan felt beside you, you can only assume that this was his ex, Bomi. “Uh, yeah, I didn’t think you’d be here either.” His tone was flat, but his face was mixed with pain and uninterest. “Yeah, I came with Kai, Kai this is Haechan.” Her smile was fake, even you could see that and the guy she was holding onto gave one similar as he replied with a hey. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there, and who are you?” Her eyes looked soft, but if you looked any closer you could see the burning flame behind that glossy coat. Her lips were turned upward into a smile, but you knew she was lying between her teeth to make you seem less important, to make you feel less important.

“I’m y/n, Haechan’s girlfriend.” You said, squeezing his hand in yours. Haechan came back to his senses, looking over at you with a fond smile. You could feel his gaze on you, but you wanted to mess with his ex a little more. “Who are you? I don’t think I caught your name.” Bomi laughed, a little too loud as she threw her head back a bit. “I’m Bomi, Haechanie’s ex.”

“Oh really, never heard of you.” Your lips purse up a little as you look over at Haechan, his eyes softening when yours lock with his. You honestly could get lost in them if you didn’t realize the amount of people who were staring at you right now. Your attention turns back to Bomi and her new arm candy, her cheerful expression now long gone. “Sorry, we were just stopping for a drink, but it was nice to meet you.” And with that, you guide Haechan from the kitchen and maneuver your way around with him in hand till you reach the stairs. Haechan had silently been following you, thoughts swimming around in his head. “You know a room we can go to that’s clean?”

“Moving pretty fast now aren’t we y/n.”

“Oh shut up, just get us somewhere quiet.”

Haechan smirks as he leads the two of you upstairs, going down a hallway till he stopped at a room and pulled his eyes from his pocket. With his free hand, he unlocks the door and walks inside with your hand still in his. “I lock it when I’m out so that no one can do anything unholy to my bed.” His words register in your brain, but you’re too distracted as you look around in the room. There were vinyls plastered onto the walls, wireless headphones sitting carefully on the side table next to his bed. Haechan drops his hand from yours, furrowing his brows at the lack of warmth that reaches his fingertips while opting to sit on the bean bag across from his bed. You sit down on his bed, noticing he too was already sitting.

Patting your thighs, you take a deep breath in to collect your thoughts from all that’s happened since you two got in while Haechan looks deep in his own head. “So, she’s something.” He laughs softly, fiddling with his fingers as he stares into his lap. “Yeah, she is.”

“And you talk about me?”

Leaning back into the bean bag, he looks at you through hooded eyes. “I did when I first got accepted in, they went around asking personal questions as a bonding experience and you were all I really knew so you naturally came to mind.” You’re fighting the frown as you think about how long you two have hated each other, almost forgetting why you two grew apart for so long. “You okay, after seeing her and all?” With his lips pressed together, he simply nods as he closes his eyes. “I’ll have to be, I mean she looked pretty pissed to see you with me, so that’s a step right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” It felt very awkward to be having such a deep conversation with him, but somehow it also felt right. Your silence is interrupted when your phone starts buzzing, pulling it from your pocket and bringing it to your ear to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey, we’re here, where are you guys?” Yeongmin called you, you assumed from downstairs as you can hear the faint music through one ear and the louder music through the phone in the other. You mouth to haechan that they were downstairs and ended the call telling her you were on your way. The two of you interlock your hands before going back downstairs, looking for the girls within the crowd. From the staircase, you can barely see them on the dance floor and you signal to haechan to follow you. As you make your way through the sea of bodies against bodies, you see your friends laughing and holding hands as they dance together.

“This is so much fun!” Wonchae smiled at you as she and Yechae held each other close. “If you have any more parties, invite us again!” Yeongmin and Sin-ra smiled at you and haechan, giggling to each other as their favorite song was blasting from the speakers. Haechan drops his hand, turning you around with his hands on your hips. He leans in as he pulls you against him, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Wanna dance?” There’s a faint blush on your cheeks as you simply nod, hesitantly wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you fall into a rhythm and sway with each other for what feels like hours. After dancing for so long, you’re starting to feel the effects of the night and tell Haechan you’re ready to go home.

You lost the girls way earlier before you decided to leave, sending them a text to tell you when they make it in. Haechan leads you outside, the wind blowing slightly as you two step out of the party. You shiver slightly, rubbing your arms as you walk over to his car. Haechan notices the goosebumps on your skin, immediately taking his jacket off and throwing it over your shoulders. “You’re gonna catch a cold, take it back.” As you’re protesting, he simply shakes his head. “I’m alright for now, just keep it on so you won’t catch a cold.” The warmth of the leather silences you, walking around the front of his car and resting against the top as he stands in front of you.

“Did you at least have fun?”

“For my first college party, yeah I had fun.”

Haechan gasps as you look at him confused. “This was your first party?” You simply nod, chewing on your bottom lip before laughing softly. “As you can tell from my friends, we don’t get out much and the only other person i talk to is Mark.” Haechan steps closer to you, losing in the distance as he tilts your head towards him with his finger. “Let me at least make it memorable.” Your face is bright red as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. You stay still, afraid that if you move, he’ll move and you hate to admit to yourself that you don’t want to move. His lips were soft against yours as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands reach out for him, gripping the fabric of his shirt while his hand moves from your chin to cup the side of your cheek.

Haechan was the first to break contact, pulling back as he looked down at you. “How was that for a first college party?” You shake your head, letting go of his shirt to give him a slight shove. “Take me home, idiot.” He laughs as you stand from the hood of his car and the two of you get in, driving around to your hall before you go your separate ways.

The next few weeks go by smoothly, you and haechan seem to be fooling everyone with your physical touch and playful banter when you’re out together. He sits with you when you two go to the cafeteria, eating meals together during your breaks between classes. He’ll meet you at the neo cafe and order your drink for you before you arrive and if you’re tutoring Jaemin, he’ll bring you your drink and sit with you till you’re done. He’s made it a habit to bring you to Taco Bell after your tutoring sessions are over and you two even spend time in the library working on your project, but haechan doesn’t get much work done before he’s bugging you for attention. After all these years, you almost forgot how touchy he is, always grabbing your hand or resting his head on your shoulder and vice versa. The two of you have everyone fooled, even Mark.

“I still can’t wrap my head around you and haechan, I mean one day you were seconds away from ripping his throat out and now you’re giggling at his texts.”

You sheepishly smile as the two of you walk back to his dorm, holding your bag in your hand as you think how much has changed between you and Haechan. Even when you’re alone, he acts no different. He still grabs your hand, plays with your hair, complements you every morning and smiles at you as if every day was the first day you saw each other. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel any different towards him, but you always push those feelings down and remember how you got here. He wants her back, he doesn’t want you, and every time you think of them two wrapped up in each other's arms like how he does with you, it hurts a little more than it should.

“I guess people change, I mean we were friends for a while when we were kids, that played into it too.” You were being truthful, reminiscing on the crush you had on Haechan growing up. Never in a million years would you have told him that, but in a way you also never were given the chance to. Now, here you are with those same harbored feelings and still don’t have a clue with what to do with them. After this is all over, he’ll leave your life once again and you’ll be left to fill the void that no one has ever come close to when it comes to him. “Yeah, I’m just saying, it’s a little weird to me, but I’m happy that you’re happy.” You give Mark a playful shove as you two walk inside his hall and go up to his room. You and Mark haven’t had much time together since you and Haechan started ‘dating’ and today was one of the days you two planned on studying in silence till you both grew bored and ended up listening to music.

“What’s on the agenda today? I got a psych essay to get out of the way.”

“I have some more lab work to go over, but I’m essay free.”

Mark opens his door for you and follows behind as you set your bag down beside his desk. The two of you go about doing your work as your phone starts to buzz on the desktop. Picking it up, you see you have missed texts from Haechan and a few missed calls. Just as you’re about to call him back, his name pops across your screen. Swiping across your phone, you bring it to your ear. “Hey, I’m so sorry my phone was on silent and I just now—“

“Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you by your last class for hours.”

Judging by his tone, he seems annoyed. You felt guilty, forgetting to text him before you met up with Mark to let him know of your plans. “I’m so sorry, Mark and I met up and were studying in his room.” Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes if you could see him. “I’m on my way, meet me in the car.” With that, he hung up as you let out a sigh. “Who was that?” You’re packing up your bags as you look over at the window. It’s raining outside and it doesn’t look like it’ll be letting up anytime soon. “Haechan, he called and wanted me to meet him outside, i kinda forgot to tell him I was coming with you and he’s kinda upset.” Mark gave you an apologetic smile to which you returned. “Be careful out there and don’t worry, I doubt he’s that mad, okay?”

You simply nod and bid him a goodbye before leaving his room and heading downstairs. When you go out the front doors, Haechan is already parked out front and you hold your bag to your chest to protect it from getting soaked as you run down to his car and quickly get inside. Haechan was gripping the wheel as he stared down at his lap, not looking your way once as you shut the door as you got in and placed your bag between your legs rather than in the back seat. “You okay hyuck?”

Haechan was quiet, you knew he was upset, but you’re starting to think there were underlying reasons as to why. “Why didn’t you tell me you were with Mark.” You bite your lip, furrowing your brows as you reach over to touch him. “I said i was sorry, it completely slipped my mind and I didn’t mean to not tell you, he just asked me if we could hang out since we haven’t recently.”

“How hard is it to send a simple text, y/n?” He definitely was pissed, his knuckles turning an off shade of white with how tight he was gripping the wheel. “Why are you so mad, you know Mark, it wasn’t like I was out with someone random?”

“I’m pissed because I had someone come up to me asking why my girlfriend was walking off giggling with some guy, you ever think of that?”

He’s unbelievable, he’s literally unbelievable. The nagging feeling that this whole situation wasn’t going to end well resurfaces without hesitation, leaving you with a sense of deja vu. “Fake girlfriend, did you forget that?” Haechan laughs, not a genuine laugh, but a laugh that almost felt forced. “You’re right, how could I forget, I mean you’ve done it before so I’m not surprised you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what exactly, donghyuck.”

“Stealing Mark away, taking all of his precious time and acting as if I don’t exist.” His words hit you hard, bringing you back to the day you two first parted ways. When Haechan first introduced you and Mark, there was no doubt in his mind that you two would get along and he was looking forward to spending his days with both of his closest friends, but even at such a young age, jealousy got the best of him. Upon meeting, you and Mark clicked as if you were meant to be friends, talking and laughing together while Haechan stood silently and felt lonely. He didn’t like how quickly you got along with Mark, he didn’t like how much he hated bringing you two together, he especially didn’t like how much resentment he felt towards you even if he didn’t know what he was feeling.

He told you he hated you that day, out of anger and hurt. Not once did he mean it, in fact there were so many times he had wished he never said it and turned the clocks back to keep him from hurting you so badly. The damage had already been done, tears falling down your young cheeks when he told you he had never wanted to be your friend again. You were confused, hurt and overall overwhelmed with the events that happened that day, but you turned your sadness into the same hatred he said he had for you and from then, the two of you never had a nice thing to say about one another. Now here you were, sitting in his car with the hopes of you two finally making progress gone.

“I don’t steal his time, he gives it to me, but you wouldn’t know that because you force people to be around you.” You didn’t mean it, you didn’t even want to say it, but haechan was prideful and used his words to hurt others when he was hurting and you weren’t going to let him win again. “Did you forget that I’m your first actual boyfriend and I’m not even dating you, it’s kind of pathetic you had to get a fake boyfriend to even know what it’s like to have one.” You didn’t realize when you started crying or why you were crying in the first place. Maybe it was because you were angry, angry that he was angry at you over something so little and so stupid. Maybe it was because he hurt you and continues to hurt you over and over and the lines between what was real and what was fake have been blurred.

“Fuck you haechan, I mean honestly, I thought maybe you’d change, maybe the boy i knew then was still there.” He still wasn’t looking at you, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes and see the damage he’s done. “Maybe you didn’t know me at all.” He knew it before you said it, that everything the two of you had been building up to for nearly a month was all over. He didn’t want to believe till you said it, but deep down he knew. “Fuck this, fuck your stupid little plan to get your shitty ex back and fuck you.”

With that, you grabbed your bag and got out of his car, leaving Haechan with his thoughts and the tears that slid down his cheeks as he watched you walk away. Part of you wanted to go back inside to Mark’s room, but that would mean you’d have to explain everything and that was all too much for you to unpack right now. Instead, you walked back to your hall, soaking from head to toe by the time you made it to your room. Wonchae was sitting in her bed when you came in, immediately questioning you why you were soaking wet, but when she realized you were crying, she took you into her arms and held you till you settled down.

That night all the girls came over and stayed with you till you cried yourself to sleep. You had come clean to them all, telling them about the pretend dating to help him get his ex back all the way to your childhood with Haechan and even the fallout of your friendship. You even told them about the feelings you were harboring, sobbing through your broken words. They tried to reassure you, telling you that they believed there was something real between you and Haechan, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe them, not after what you just went through with him. Thankfully for you, it was a weekend and you didn’t have classes till the following Monday and that meant you didn’t have to try and avoid him as much as possible.

By the beginning of the week, you do your best to dodge him in any way. You stopped going to the Neo cafe for the first week, Sin-ra taking the initiative to bring you your drink every morning before your first class. In the class you shared with him, at first you’d sit in the very back to avoid being near him and people quickly took notice. It wasn’t long before whispers started going around that you two had broken up and Mark was a part of some of the rumors. When he got wind of everything, you told him the same thing you told your friends and he apologized to you for everything. After so many years, he finally knew why you and Haechan stopped being friends and he felt responsible for that, but you reassured him that there was nothing he could’ve done then or now.

It was nearing your last week for your project and you’re sitting in your shared class with Haechan who was nowhere to be seen. As you’re leaving when the professor tells everyone class was dismissed, your professor stops you and asks you to stay behind. “I wanted you to know that Donghyuck already submitted his portion of the project, so I’ll only need the remaining 25% from you.” You’re confused and it’s evident on your face as you grip the bag over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but we agreed to split it down the middle, what did he submit already?”

“Are you sure? He emailed me this morning and submitted the essay portion and said you’d do the final draft on the slide presentation. Get with him and let me know before the deadline.” You simply nod and bid him a farewell as you leave your last class for the day. There are so many thoughts in your head as you pull your phone from your pocket and just as you’re about to text Haechan, you bump into someone on your way out. “Oh I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, I’m so—y/n?”

When you look up from your phone, you see Johnny standing in front of you. He was a little taken aback to see you, but still happy that he ran into you. “Oh hey, what’s up?” The two of you make small talk as you stand outside the building, chatting about the little things in life. “Oh before I forget, you’re coming to the party tonight right?” You’re unsure what to tell him, your silence leaving open room to answer. “It’s okay if you can’t make it, Haechan said you two were working on a big project so I get why you haven’t been around, but if you come tonight we’d be happy to have you.” Hearing Haechan’s name felt almost foreign, having neither your friends or Mark even uttering his name over these last few weeks. “I’ll see if i can make it.” Johnny gives you a genuine smile before heading off and you two go your own ways. When you make it back to your hall, Wonchae and Yechae are sitting on Wonchae’s bed as they watch a movie on her laptop.

“Wanna watch the movie with us, I can put it on the tv?” You smile at Yechae’s offer, but simply shake your head. “I’m gonna go to sleep instead, thank you though.” You slip underneath your blanket and lay in bed till your eyes get too heavy to keep open anymore. You’re not sure what time it was when your phone starts going off, waking you from your peaceful sleep. Your fumble as you sit up in bed, grabbing your phone from your side table. Through tired eyes, you see an unknown number calling you and hesitantly, you slide across your phone to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/n, we need you here! Haechan is whining for you.” You recognize Johnny’s voice, the mention of Haechan’s name sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. “Where is he?” You try to be as quiet as you can, looking over at Wonchae and Yechae cuddling silently in her bed. “He’s upstairs, I kind of lost him when I was busy cleaning up his puke, but I managed to snatch his phone before he disappeared to call you.” With a heavy sigh, you climb out of bed and throw on a sweatshirt before telling Johnny you’re on your way. Without a car, you’d have to walk all the way to the frat house where the party was thrown, but it’d take too long for you to get there so you opt to run instead as you mentally thank yourself for taking track one year in high school.

As you’re reaching the doors to the house, you’re panting and out of breath while dragging yourself inside. Pretty much everyone was gone and the scattered cups on the ground gave you an idea of how the night went. Johnny was crouched down picking things up off the floor when you walked in, looking your way as you tried to catch your breath. “Oh hey y/n, you okay? You look kind of..sweaty.” You shook your head as your hands rested on your hips, taking in slow deep breaths to steady your breathing. “Where is he?” You were here to find Haechan, as much as you wanted to make small talk with Johnny, you were too tired to even try. “Check his room, Taeyong should still be up there with him.” Nodding, you drag your feet towards the staircase and tiredly make your way to the top. Going solely off memory, you walk down the hallway till you’re standing in front of Haechan’s room. From inside, you can hear faint crying and Taeyong’s voice.

Pushing the door open gently, you see Haechan sitting on his bed with a cup of water in his hand while Taeyong is sitting beside him. When he noticed your entrance, Taeyong stood up from the bed and silently walked towards you. He placed his hand gently on your shoulder before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. You stood in the middle of the room, staring at the boy who was silently sniffling as he stared down at his cup in his hand. “Do you have your keys, I can bring you to your room if you do.” He simply shook his head, gripping the cup in his hand. A sigh left your lips as you turned to his closet, rummaging through his clothes. “W-what are you doing?” You pull a shirt off a hanger, walking over to him. “You can’t sleep in that, it has liquids on it.” Haechan stays still, as if he was frozen in time. His body shook slightly every time he hiccuped, but he didn’t bother moving.

“Get changed please, I’ll leave so you can—“

“Please don’t leave me.”

You’re biting your bottom lip as you see his head rise, meeting his swollen and teary eyes. “Just for tonight, I just need you tonight.” He looked so sad, tears dried on his cheeks as he fought back the tears. You should’ve left, hell you shouldn’t have even come, but you needed to make sure he was okay and from the looks of it, he was far from it. “I’ll turn around, but you need to get out of your clothes and into something to sleep in.” Silently, he stands from his bed and sets the cup on his desktop. You handed him the shirt you grabbed from his closet, walking towards the door and facing away so that he could get dressed. After a few minutes pass, Haechan tells you he’s done and you turn around to him laying in his bed on one side, leaving space for you on the other.

Walking over after turning off the light, you pull back the blanket and slide into the space he’s left you. The two of you lay in silence, the moonlight shining through the cracks of his window cover. “I’m sorry.” Haechan’s voice was barely over a whisper, but neither of you could bring it to look at each other. “You’re drunk, you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” You could feel how tense he was beside you, if you reached out to him you were afraid he’d fall apart. “I’m sober enough to know what I'm saying and I need you to believe me on that.” You shift onto your side, tucking your underneath his pillow as your eyes fall to the side of his face. He can feel your gaze on him, waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t mean anything I said that day, even back when we were kids.

“I was jealous of your friendship with Mark, in a way I still am because he’s been by your side this whole time and because of my insecurities, I missed all of that.” You knew he had a hard time believing in people after he had been let down many times before, you understood where he was coming from, but that doesn’t justify his actions. “I’m sorry you had to come out here at this hour, I don’t remember much of what I said to the boys, but it was enough for them to call you and for that, i'm sorry for wasting your time.”

The light coming from his window was just enough for you to see the tear that slid from his eye down the side of his face. “Was she here tonight?” You knew it was none of your business, you had no right to be asking him this, but part of you needed to know. “Yeah.”

“Did you guys get back together, I mean that was the whole point of this right?”

Haechan turns on his side to face you, tucking his arm underneath his head to prop himself up to your eye level. “She tried, but I told her it was over when she left me for that guy.” You’re a bit taken aback, why did he turn her down? What was the point of all of this if it was not for him to win her back. “Why, didn’t you want her back?” Haechan’s eyes locked with yours, searching them for something to give him the confidence to go on. He could see it in your eyes, but for so long he had been too scared to ruin what you two were building. “Spending this time with you blurred everything around me y/n, she was what I thought I wanted, but it wasn’t till I lost you that I knew what I needed instead.”

You felt speechless, staring at him with parted lips. He had just confessed that you were what he wanted and that alone made your head feel dizzy. Now lies the difficult decision, to lie and pretend you don’t feel anything to protect yourself or run to him and trust that he’ll protect you instead and all the love you have in your heart for him. “Say something please.” Hesitantly, you bring a hand up to his face, brushing his hair back to get the best view of him as possible. “Looks like we have a problem.”

“And that is?”

“I broke one of the two rules we made, well technically I broke them both but the first rule was broken after you were an asshole.” Haechan sat up, propping himself on his elbow as he stared down at you. “Does that mean I can kiss you?” A smile spreads across his lips as he watches the light reflect in your eyes. You give him a nod, all the confirmation he needed to lean down and capture your lips within his. The kiss felt familiar, like he had done this a million times before. Your arm wraps around his neck, pulling him close to you as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. The two of you healed a part of you that was long overdue, the two best friends within you now reunited. Now that you’re older, you not only have your best friend back, but the young boy you loved is too there beside you.

so for starters if you’ve gotten this far, why thank you pook 🥹i’m really sorry if the ending feels rushed, i’ve never written something this long before so i was struggling i tell ya🥲🫂 and i just wanna say ily and you’re doing great and if you liked it,, pls lmk! it always helps when you share your thoughts w me 🫶

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