#THEY ARE THE ONLY ONE TO HAVE FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL

[jjknowsball]

Perfection Ch. 2

Summary: AU Fic where Paige is a D1 Football player and Azzi is an overwhelmed Biology major.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: None right now

Note: Trying to write over 2k words after writing 3 finals is going to take me out. I also did not proofread this at all 🙂‍↕️.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paige has done it now.

Her newfound case of an unpredictable arm has striked again. It all started with throwing three interceptions at last week’s at home rival game versus Tennessee. She can remember everything from her coach’s thrown clipboard, the fans throwing their hands up in frustration, and KK’s worried look through her helmet.  

She still hasn’t been able to get the shit-eating grin that Samara Spencer had on her face as she gracefully accepted the ball thrown by Paige.

Now she has taken out her roommate who is currently lying on the turf after tumbling down from the sidewalk from above.  The girl’s leg was bent in an awkward position and her clothes were covered in a layer of dirt.

Out of anyone else on campus, she had to take out her already stressed out, three seconds away from spontaneous combustion, roommate.

“YOU KILLED HER” KK, Uconns star wide receiver, yelled . She had taken it upon herself to shake Paige’s shoulders to emphasize the point as she pointed to the unconscious girl. 

At this rate, Paige was never going to touch the field again. She could see the headlines now-

“Local Star quarterback caught in throw-and-run against her own roommate.” 

After that it would be the media coverage- with a terrible picture of her from her awful digital footprint from high school. The awful matching neon Nike fit with the matching headband would be the last thing people would remember her by. Then she was going to spend the rest of her life in jail making sneakers out of cardboard boxes. 

“Chill” Paige says in an attempt to calm not only her nerves but her teammates too. “We can take her to the athletic training room.” 

She goes to touch Azzi’s neck when she notices two things. One she definitely has a pulse and she looks strangely at peace for somebody who just got taken out by a football.

“If she doesn’t have a pulse, I am pretty sure your trunk is big enough to-“ Ice, UConn’s tight end, chimes in. 

“Don’t even finish the rest of that sentence” Paige said as she rubbed her temple. She goes to pick up Azzi by her back in one arm while using her other arm to carry her legs. She starts to carry the girl towards the athletic facility with her teammates in tow.

———-

When Azzi comes to, the first thing that she thinks about is how bad her head hurts and where the hell is she .

The room is huge, with an abundance of athlete training bed and not the cheap family practice ones that had to be covered with the paper that crinkled with every movement. These beds could be adjusted at three different points with the schools logo and cabinets underneath.

There was a sauna next to the indoor pool & spa. The facility even had a small smoothie bar with 30 different flavors. All she could think about was the fact that the athletic facility alone put the science building to shame. One of the beds alone could fix three labs. 

Azzi was so inthralled with how the facility looked she didn’t notice the fact that Paige was right next to her on the small rolling chair. She was sitting there calmly with her AirPods in with only a Nike sports bra and sweatpants. 

Her glistening abs on display as she was thinking about something like football plays or how many girls she was going to have in her bed tonight. 

“Do you always try to wear as little as possible” Azzi said as she grimaced, reaching out for her leg and ankle.

She hadn’t realized how bad she was hurting until now. She was bleeding through her leggings around her knee and her ankle hurt like hell. 

“You’re Alive” Paige says immediately jumping up from the chair.  “ You have been out for almost 30 minutes now.”

This causes Azzi to sit up, she realizes that she is not only late to dinner with Caroline and Ines but her study room reservation in the library. 

“Don’t move” Paige said  impulsively grabbing her thigh to keep her in place before quickly moving her hand as her ears go red “let me help you up.” 

“ I think you have done enough” Azzi says in protest, still trying to wiggle off the table. 

“I know I am the whole reason why you are in this mess but please let me help you.” Paige pleads. Her eyes filled with guilt as she looked up at the younger girl. 

Despite Azzi being extremely reluctant, she decides to let Paige do her thing as there isn’t much she can do about it. 

Paige goes to grab the athletic tape before moving towards  Azzi’s bad knee. She looks up at Azzi to get her approval before she starts to hike up Azzi’s leggings after her nod. 

Maybe it is just the fact that Azzi hasn’t been with anyone in a long time but Paige’s soft touches as she wraps  the tape around her knee has caused her to become flustered. 

Once Paige is done, she moves lower towards her ankle as she tries to flex it.  Trying to figure out if it was a low-grade sprain or worse.

“Ouch!!” Azzi yelled with tears starting to form in her eyes. 

“You’re doing so good for me, Az, I am almost done.” Paige says not giving it any thought as she gets the brace to wrap around her ankle. If Azzi had thought her stomach had dropped from the touches earlier, that statement certainly didn’t help.

Why does she always have to talk like this.

 “Don’t call me that” Azzi says as she begins to pout with her hands thrown over her chest. Paige laughs it off before offering  her hand.

“Can you stand by yourself” Paige ask

“Mmhm” Azzi answers back while trying to balance herself. “I really need to g—“

“Let me take you out to dinner-“ Paige blurts out trying to stop the younger girl from leaving. “It’s the least I could do since the dining hall is closed”

It’s not the best recovery but Azzi decides to let Paige off the hook based off of how red she was turning.

“What ever you say, Madison” Azzi agreed as she started to limp off “As long as we eat it in the library”. Paige throws on her hoodie before following in tow.

——-

It takes 45 minutes for them to make it to the library due to Azzi’s indecisiveness.

“Azzi, I am sure what ever you pick is going to be great.” Paige exclaimed trying to hurry the girl along. It was almost as if she forgot that they had to make it to the library in 15 minutes 

She couldn’t decided between a subway flatbread, a qdoba bowl, or a soup and a salad meal from Panera. In the time that it had taken Azzi to look at the 3 options, Paige had ordered Chick Fil A and had already eaten half her fries. 

“Everything looks so good” Azzi exclaims, clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Paige not being able to wait any longer decides to order for her. She walks over to the Panera kiosk and begins to press different buttons, ignoring Azzi questioning looks from over her shoulder. Paige pulls her card out when Azzi decides to speak up

“ What did you order?”

“It’s a surprise” 

“What if I don’t like it” Azzi ask again 

“You will” Paige answers with a wink before grabbing the food and pulling it out of Azzi’s reach.

———-

They make it to the study room with  two minutes to spare. As they both get situated in, Paige finally hands Azzi her bag of food. 

Inside was broccoli and cheese soup and a chipotle chicken avocado melt.

Her usual

“How did you know?”

“You always leave the other half of the meal in the refrigerator, so I figured you would like it” Paige said sheepishly. 

From that statement alone, Azzi quickly realized that Paige knew things about her and the only thing Azzi knew about Paige was her late night hook-ups. 

It almost made her feel bad about the mean things she had wish on the girl like the shower running cold mid-session or her roof falling in when she got too loud. 

Almost

“I know a lot about you Az, even if you won’t talk to me and just stay in your dorm all day” Paige bantered.

“I said don’t call me that” Azzi said as she pouted “And I don’t stay in my dorm all day”

“Second times a charm?”Paige says, as she shrugs leaning back in her chair. 

“ That isn’t even how the saying goes, stupid” Azzi half laughed as she pushed the blondes chair. Mid-laugh, She notices the clock on the wall: 9:30

“ Ok I really need to lock in now”

———-

In Azzi’s defense she really tried to study her 11 fundamental groups. But Paige’s antics aren’t really the best for a study environment. 

Her notes have been long forgotten and are sprung across the L shaped desk and are borderline in Azzi’s area. The football player has her music blasting through her AirPods and is watching film from what looks like last week’s game. The announcer play-by-play filling up the room. 

Despite Azzi not caring about the school football team, she wasn’t stupid. Paige’s last performance had been the talk of the campus, with many people say that there was no hope for a championship and that Paige’s draft stock would fall. Azzi could tell that it was bothering the older girl as she was entranced by the screen, analyzing every play. 

“ Do you want to talk about the game”

Azzi questioned as she put her textbook in her bag.

“Nothing to talk about” Paige said unfazed as she continues to watch the screen. 

But the way her leg bounces and the fact that she was almost about to bite off her bottom lip doesn’t go unnoticed by Azzi. 

“I know we are not friends or anything, but I get the whole having a whole bunch of expectations on you or trying to be perfect” 

Paige nodded her head, seeming to think about the other girls words, appreciating them. There a moment of silence before Paige says anything. 

“Who said we weren’t friends?” Paige says trying to deflect and Azzi accepts the fact that the girl would rather not talk about it. 

“We live in the same dorm and we don’t even talk to each other.”

“Well maybe if someone left their room, we could’ve talked over a bowl of ice cream or something.”

“ I already told you that I do leave my room” Azzi groans out. She starts to feel bold as she is tired of Paige making her seem like some shut-in nerd. 

Maybe it’s also some of Paige’s cockiness wearing off on her.

“Who is to say that we can’t go right now” 

Paige’s eyebrows raise at Azzi’s newfound attitude.  

“You are sassier than I thought, Jazlyn. If we hurry right now we can make it to the Dairy Bar before they close” 

———-

The Dairy bar is surprisingly packed for 10:30 on a Tuesday night. The inside sitting area was full with people and ambiance.

Azzi is basically radiating excitement as it has been a while since she had step foot in the ice cream parlor. It totally beat the freezer burn ice cream that she had to settle for.

“Do you know what you want” Paige had asked ahead of time not wanting a repeat of what had happened at dinner. 

“Two scoops of Vanilla ice cream, with  sprinkles and a little caramel” the brunette said as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “How about you?”

“ I wasn’t really trying to get anyth-“ the blonde is cut off by the younger girl looking at her as if she had just betrayed her. “I was thinking a small mint chocolate chip cone”

Despite Azzi’s personal opinion about mint chocolate chip ice cream she is just happy that the other girl isn’t going to leave her hanging by making her get ice cream by herself. 

Azzi is the first one to order, so she takes her card out only to be intercepted by Paige who lightly pushes her aside taking her card out of her hoodie. 

“It’s the least I can do since I nearly killed you today” Paige whispers as she taps the card and who is Azzi to argue against her ( and free ice cream.) 

They decide to take their ice cream outside to a bench that over looks  the campus lake. The scene is so peaceful with the lapping of the water and the light chatter in the distance. They discuss everything from their very busy schedules, to Azzi’s job at the daycare, and Paige even tells a funny story about how the time she woke up covered in bubble wrap curtesy of her teams after an injury scare. 

They somehow get on the topic of parties and Azzi can feel her stomach drop for the second time of the day. 

“I bet you haven’t even been to a party here��� 

“I totally have been to a UConn party”

“Let me guess, it was a biology “party” where y’all trade notes while guessing what came next in a genetics sequence” Paige barely laughs out before doubling over. Her ice cream cone almost tumbling out of her hand 

Azzi didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was spot on. Her first party was hosted by the biology department with DNA banners and mock tails in beakers. She had thought it was the coolest thing ever until Paige made her feel like a nerdy middle schooler. 

“Nope it was a totally normal college party, with a pool, drinks, and plenty of people hooking-up” Azzi says unconvincingly, completely flustered. 

“Uh huh” Paige chuckles out not believing the younger girl at all. 

“ Well, I can’t have you graduate with going to THE UConn Party.” Paige emphasizes “ You should totally come to my birthday party, which is also a halloween party, hosted by the football team” 

The Older girl gives her all the details on the walk home about the Saturday night party that would take place at a fancy airbnb where half of the school would show up.

——-

Once they finally make it back to the dorm, they go to their respected rooms. 

Azzi collapses on the bed before turning on her phone which was in surprisingly good condition considering her fall. 

Her phone had multiple missed messages and calls (mainly from Caroline threatening to fill out a missing persons report.) 

Azzi decides to put her girls out of their misery and inform them on why she missed out on their nightly dinner. 

She answers the FaceTime with the biggest smile on her face before saying. 

“You guys won’t believe what just happened.”

[littlebluebird2000]

Twirling Hearts- part 4

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. the smut is contained to the very last part of this chapter, just to warn y’all.

word count: 10k+ ( i knnnoowwww)

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Eunjang’s first morning bell echoes dully through the hallway, warning students to start heading to class.

Sieun sits at his desk, slouched but focused, one hand twirling a pen between his fingers. He looks half-asleep, but his notebook is already open, his handwriting precise. He’s not smiling, but there’s a quiet stillness to him—like something heavy inside him has finally shifted, even just a little. The classroom door bangs open.

“Morning, lover boy.” Baku announces as he walks in.

Gotak trails behind him, dragging his feet with a yawn, and Juntae walks in last, eyes scanning the room before flickering over to Sieun—then away quickly, as if pretending he didn’t look at all.

Sieun doesn’t glance up.

Baku slides into the seat beside him and leans in with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Slept well this weekend, huh?”

Sieun tenses. His pen stops spinning.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mutters, eyes on his notebook.

Baku whistles low, teasing. “Right, right. I must’ve imagined you not answering your phone for two whole days!”

Gotak flops into his seat. “You spent the whole weekend at her place?”

Sieun doesn’t answer right away. He can feel their eyes on him, expectant. He exhales through his nose—quiet, controlled, but clearly annoyed—then gives a small nod, just enough to make them stop asking.

Juntae shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t expect it, but… good for you. You deserve to be happy.” His voice is quieter, awkward but sincere. He offers a small smile, eyes flicking to Sieun and back to his desk like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Baku smacks Gotak lightly on the arm. “See? What did I say? You two are clueless.”

Gotak frowns. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“You didn’t think, period,” Baku shoots back, grinning. “I’m the only one here with a brain. I knew something was going on.”

Juntae scratches at his temple, half-smiling. “Yeah, okay. You were right.”

“You should’ve seen the way he looked at her after the recital. Man was done for.”

Sieun kept his eyes on his notebook, continuing writing. “Are you finished?”

Baku grins wider. “What? I’m just happy for you.”

Sieun exhales through his nose, leaning back in his chair. The usual apathy lingers in his expression, but something softer slips through—just for a second. He knows Baku’s an idiot…But he also knows Baku means well.

The silence barely lasts a beat before Baku leaned in, voice low but playful.

“So… what’d you two do all weekend?” he asks, grinning. “Just stayed in? Don’t tell me you didn’t even leave the apartment.”

Sieun finally looks up. His eyes meet Baku’s. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his gaze. Not enough to bite. Just a warning.

Baku’s eyebrows lift. “Wait—seriously? You stayed in the whole time?”

Gotak turns around again, curious. “Not even to grab food or something?”

Sieun exhales through his nose. “It was raining.”

Baku leans back in his chair dramatically, hands on his mouth. “It was raining, he says! So you just stayed holed up in there, all cozy and domestic? Unbelievable.”

Juntae smiled quietly. “Kinda sounds nice, actually.”

Baku ignored him. All his attention was on Sieun. “And here I thought you’d be all stiff and awkward, sitting on the floor five feet away from her like some kind of monk.” Sieun didn’t take the bait, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.

Baku’s grin sharpens. “You weren’t, huh?”

Sieun let out a quiet breath, clearly done with the conversation. “Stop talking. You’re too loud.”

Baku snorts. “And you’re suspiciously quiet. Which tells me everything.”

Sieun says nothing, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears doesn’t go unnoticed. Before Baku can comment, Mr. Yoon steps in the classroom, dropping a stack of papers onto the front desk. “Settle down.” He says, not looking up as he adjusts his glasses. “Take out your homework. If you didn’t do it, don’t waste my time with excuses.”

Chairs scrape and groans ripple through the room. Baku took his usual place in the back of the class, just across Sieun, a smile of amusement still on his face. The classroom buzzed with faint background noise—rustling pages, low whispers, the dull scrape of a chair leg dragged half an inch too far.

The class moved around him. Gotak was stretching until his chair creaked, Baku was half-asleep with his chin in his hand and Juntae was flipping his eraser between his fingers. Sieun’s pen moved steadily across his notebook. No pause, no wasted motion. His handwriting was tidy, spaced just right. He didn’t need to think about it. Before he knew it, first period was over. The bell rang, sharp and familiar. Mr. Yoon capped his marker mid-sentence, muttered something about finishing the equation next time, and walked out to get his second cup of coffee.

Students stretched and shifted, the atmosphere loosening like a breath held too long. Notebooks shut with soft thuds. A few laughed. Someone played music too loud for three seconds before being told to turn it off.

There was a ten-minute break between classes. It was enough time to stretch, go to the bathroom, talk or sleep. You usually arrived during this break. You would always slipped in before the bell rang, quiet and breathless, but on time.

He glanced at the door out of habit. Empty. Not strange. Not yet. Five minutes passed.

Sieun opened his phone. Not to text. Just to check.

Nothing.

Around him, the room stirred lazily. Baku was talking too loudly in the corner, throwing jokes at anyone who’d listen. Gotak was chewing something crunchy, and Juntae was scrolling through his feed.

Sieun looked at the door again. Seven minutes. Still no sign of her.

He leaned back slightly in his chair. Not tense. Not relaxed. Just waiting. Maybe she was running late. Maybe she forgot something. He checked his phone again.

No messages.

His fingers hovered over the screen before he locked it again, jaw tightening for a brief moment. Nine minutes.

His gaze hadn’t left the doorway in a while now. The voices around him faded into background noise. He wasn’t listening.

Then the second bell rang.

He found himself looking at her empty seat, then his gaze flickered toward the door, just one last time. Sieun exhaled, slow and quiet, a barely perceptible shift in the tension of his posture. Something was off. She hadn’t come.

Behind him, Baku’s voice broke through the quiet murmur of the class. “Where’s Y/N?” His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern in it.

“Yeah, she’s usually here by now.” Gotak frowned. “You think she’s sick or something?”

The silence stretched out, heavy and thick. Juntae glanced at Sieun again before looking away, his voice quieter than the others, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “Maybe… maybe she’s uncomfortable showing up today? With… well, you know…Maybe it’s just a lot?” There was no accusation in his voice. Just a gentle suggestion, like he didn’t want to believe it either.

Sieun’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t show any other outward reaction. He could feel the weight of Juntae’s words, the subtle reminder of the tension between him and you after everything that had happened. Could it be that you were avoiding him? The thought slipped into his mind, unwelcome but persistent. He immediately pushed it away, not allowing himself to dwell on it.

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Sieun muttered, his tone flat, his eyes still fixed on the door. He couldn’t let the thought linger, not now. He knew you weren’t the type to just avoid things, avoid him. If you had a problem, you’d say it—or at least show it. And this morning, you had been completely normal. You had even kissed him goodbye…

“Y/N wouldn’t just ghost.” Baku said, backing him up. “Sieun’s right. She’s a bit late for one class and we’re acting all weird? Maybe her ballet teacher held her back? They probably had to go over the recital or something…She could’ve missed the bus.”

Before anyone could respond, Mr. Yoon walk back in, five minutes late himself, a new coffee in hand . “All right, quiet down. Let’s get started with math.” He said, out of breath. The class stirred reluctantly back to life. Chairs shifted, textbooks opened, and the murmur of voices fell into silence.

Sieun moved mechanically, flipping open his notebook, but his mind wasn’t on the lesson. He stared at the margin of the page as Mr. Yoon began writing on the board.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

Around him, Baku, Gotak, and Juntae exchanged glances. They didn’t say anything, but he could feel it—the tension, the worry. It pressed against him from all sides. He could hear the lesson, the scribbling of pens, the clicking of keyboards, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

No text. No message. Something was wrong.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

By lunch, the mood had shifted completely. Phones were out. Fingers scrolled. Tapped. Redialed. Again and again. Still nothing. No texts. No answers. No signs of life from you.

“She didn’t even open my messages.” Baku muttered, frowning at his screen.

Sieun sat silently at the edge of his chair, phone in hand, screen blank. He hadn’t said much, but it was clear he wasn’t just waiting anymore. He was calculating.

“She never skips school.” Juntae said softly. “She would have told one of us at least…” A long silence followed.

Then, quietly, Sieun stood. “I’m not staying here. The others looked up at him. “I’m going to her apartment.”

“I’m coming.” Baku said immediately, grabbing his bag.

“Me too.” Gotak added. Juntae stood up to follow.

The four of them walked out before the next bell, slipping through the gate like shadows. A bus ride later, they were climbing the familiar steps to your building. At the door to your unit, Baku gave a dry laugh, but it didn’t carry much humor. “Of course you have the passcode.” He said, nudging Sieun.

Sieun didn’t respond. He keyed in the numbers. The lock clicked and he opened the door. Inside, everything was still. The air felt untouched. A glass sat by the sink where you’d left it earlier. It looked exactly the same as when he’d left this morning. Sieun stepped in farther, scanning the room like something might leap out at him. His chest felt tight. “She didn’t come back to the apartment.” He said quietly. He pulled out his phone again, brows drawing close as he searched something quickly.

“Who are you calling?” Baku asked.

“The ballet academy.”

It rang twice before someone answered. A woman, polite, professional. “Hello? I’m calling to check… did Y/N attend class today?”

“Yes.” Came the reply, clear and certain. “She was here for morning practice. She left a while ago to go to school.” Sieun’s grip tightened around the phone.

“Thank you.” He said, then hung up.

He turned to the others, expression blank. They waited for an explanation. His voice colder than before. “She left ballet. She was on her way to school.” Sieun stood still, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed.

Gotak rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe… maybe she stopped somewhere? Like a café? Or her phone died—”

“Then she’d be here by now.” Sieun cut in, his voice flat. “She’s not just late. She never made it.”

Juntae hovered near the doorway, his face pale. “Do you think something happened… on the way to school?”

“She wouldn’t just wander off.” Baku added. “Not without texting someone. Not after this weekend.”Everyone looked at Sieun. His hands had curled into fists at his sides.

“She was fine this morning,” He finally said to reassured their suspicion. “She kissed me goodbye. She was happy.” The room went quiet again.

Baku’s voice dropped. “So something must of happened…” Then—Baku’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A sharp, sudden vibration that broke the stillness. Everyone froze.

“Y/N?” Juntae asked quickly, almost too fast.

Baku stared down at his screen, heart stammering in his chest, but his expression dropped. “It’s… not her.” He said quietly. Sieun was already at his side. Two messages. From an unknown number.

[Unknown Number]: She’s with us. Don’t do anything stupid.

[Unknown Number]: If you come talk with us, we can make some arrangements.

Sieun was dead silent, his face unreadable. The rest of the boys stood frozen, waiting for someone to speak.

Then Baku exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “…Shit. It’s the Union.”

Gotak looked stress. “The Union? I thought it might’ve been Hyoman or one of his guys.”

Baku shook his head. “Hyoman was in class all day. This is bigger. Way bigger.”

Sieun’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the Union and why would they want Y/N?”

“They don’t.” Baku said. “They want us. Eunjang.” He continued. “The Union is a network. It’s an organization made from three high schools around here: Yeoil, Hwayang, and Dalseong. Each school has its own leader, but the real boss is Na Baek-jin. He runs the whole thing.”

Sieun listened without interrupting. Not a single change in his face.

Baku stepped back, pacing once across the small living room, voice tight. “The Union’s been trying to pull us in for months—stealing from our guys, cornering us after school, starting fights.“

“They tried jumping Junseok last week.” Juntae muttered. “Took his phone and wallet.”

Baku nodded. “They’re organized. Real business-like. They do cons, sell stolen bikes, flip phones—whatever keeps the cash coming in. Baek-jin runs it like a company.”

Baku’s voice dropped, bitter now. “They tried to pull Eunjang in too. Again and again. But I said no. Every time. I’ve been the one keeping them out of our school.” He paused, his eyes darkening with guilt. “And that’s why they took Y/N.”

Sieun stiffened.

“She’s close to me. Friends with me. That makes her a target. They’re sending a message.”

Sieun’s gaze dropped to the phone again.

“Do you know where they’re holding her?”

“No,” Baku said. “They’ve got a few spots they use—abandoned buildings, storage places—but the headquarters? No one outside the Union knows.”

Sieun stood perfectly still. “Then, ask.”

Baku nodded, fingers flying over the screen. One short message:

[12:23]: Where?

Three seconds passed. Then four. The typing bubble appeared.

Sieun didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

[Unknown Number] : Bowling alley. Back entrance. 5pm. Come alone.”

Baku read it out loud, his voice heavy with frustration. “They’re at the bowling alley. They must be using it as a front to go under the radar. That’s probably where they saw us two weeks ago… We were in their territory without knowing…”

Sieun’s gaze remained cold, sharp. His mind was already moving, calculating the angles, thinking through every possibility. It was a public place. A cover for the Union’s operations. Risky, but smart. There’d be layers—lookouts, runners, maybe even fake employees. He wasn’t the best fighter—not by a long shot—but he was good at understanding people. Their weaknesses. Their routines. The patterns.

“They want me to go alone,” Baku muttered, jaw tight. “It’s obviously a setup.”

Sieun finally spoke, voice calm and steady. “Then don’t go alone.”

“They’ll be watching,” Baku said. “They’ll know.”

“They won’t know” Sieun replied simply.There was something unsettling about the way he said it. No fear. No hesitation. Just quiet conviction.

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The room was small, suffocating. Dimly lit by the flickering overhead light and the pale glow from the desk lamp, it looked more like a converted storage closet than an actual office. The air tasted like smoke and dust. A stained couch sagged against the wall, further there was a scratched-up metal desk.

You sat on the floor, tucked into the corner. Your knees were drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them. Your weren’t tied up—but the presence in the room made it clear that running wasn’t an option.

The man in the orange jacket sat sprawled on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the stale scent of old furniture and engine oil. He glanced at you from time to time, amusement flickering in his eyes like he thought this was funny. You had come to know that his name was Seongje. He was one of the guys that brought you here. He had the dragged you with that fake, mocking kindness.

At the desk sat another man. This one looked cleaner. His black hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place. He hadn’t said a word to you since they brought you in.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” The man on the sofa said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “I figured ballerinas were supposed to be shy, but this is something else.”

You stare at the floor. You want to speak, maybe even scream, but your throat feels tight, like something’s wrapped around it.

“Aww,” Seongje smiled, leaning forward, flicking ash to the floor. “You’re cute.”

You flinched and you hated yourself for it.

His eyes return to you, and they’re darker now. “You know, it’s kind of sweet. The way you’re sitting there, quiet and shaking. Makes you look even smaller. Makes me want to see just how much noise you can make.”

“Enough.” Said the man behind the desk. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a knife. He’s colder than the others. More dangerous in a way you couldn’t explain. “She’s not here for your amusement. She’s here to make sure Baku listens.”

Seongje laughed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Come on, Baekjin. I’m just trying to make her feel welcome.” He relaxed completely against the couch, leaning back with his held tilted back. His next words were low, as if he was speaking to himself: “I’ve always liked fragile girls. They break the prettiest.”

Baekjin finally moved. He opened a drawer, took something out—a phone—and placed it on the desk in front of him. “Five o’clock.” He says. “Let’s see what Baku decides.”

You press your forehead against your knees, trying to steady your breath. If he comes in without thinking…

Seongje’s voice slices through the air again, taunting. “Hope he hurries.” He said. “Wouldn’t want us getting bored while we wait.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. You’re scared—terrified—but you won’t let them see you break. Not yet.

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The neon sign flickers overhead, casting the entrance in a sickly red glow. Laughter echoes from inside, hollow and distant. A few teens loiter near the front doors, tossing glances at Baku like they recognize him—and know better than to say anything.

Behind him, Sieun is quiet. Still. But there’s something brewing under the surface. He’s been like this since they got the text. No questions, no hesitation. Just that calm, unreadable expression. The kind of calm that warns of a storm behind the eyes.

“There’s a side entrance. Loading zone. I saw it last time we were here.” He started, voice calm. “I’ll wait for you to get inside first. I’ll sneak in through that door after.”

Baku looks at Sieun now, more serious than he’s ever been. “You don’t have to do this, Sieun.”

Sieun keep his gaze forward. “I’m not walking away.” He adjusted his black cap.“You keep them looking at you. I’ll find her.”

“And if you can’t get her out?” Baku asked.

Sieun looked at him. His voice was quiet, steady. “I will.”

A few seconds passed in heavy silence before Baku spoke, his voice edged with bitterness.

“Baekjin and I used to be friends. Before he joined the Union. Before he started playing mob boss with high school kids.” He let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll try to talk to him first—see if there’s anything left of the guy I used to know. But if that doesn’t work…” His gaze hardened. “We fight.”

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The music swells as Baku pushes through the doors. A few heads turn his way. Recognition flickers across the faces of nearby Union kids—some he remembers from past fights. Their eyes lock, but he doesn’t look away. He stands firm, unfazed. He heads straight for the hallway that leads to the back office, just like Sieun had described, over and over again during the past hour. He walk towards the door and turned the knob slowly and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him—and then, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Well, look who finally showed his face.” Seongje was slouched against the wall, spinning a butterfly knife between his fingers, the blade flashing in the dim light. Baku looked at him for a second, then his gaze went to the man who once was his best friend.

Baekjin sat behind a desk, legs crossed and sleeves rolled. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t smile. His gaze met Baku’s like they’d spoken yesterday.

“Didn’t expect you to come alone.” Baekjin says.

“You told me to.” Baku replies flatly. “Figured we could talk.”

Baekjin gives him a thin smile. “We always could.”

Baku scanned the office, his chest tightening with unease. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice low but urgent.

Seongje clicked the knife shut and shoved off the wall, walking a slow circle toward Baku. “Moved her somewhere else. She’s sweet, that girl.” He said with a smirk. “Bit too quiet, though.”

“She’s not part of this.” Baku said, jaw tightening. Gaze hard on Baekjin.

“She is now,” Baekjin said, settling back in his chair. “Because you made her part of it. You let her get close. That’s on you.”

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Sieun moved through the dim corridor like a shadow, his steps light, his breath tight in his chest. The deeper he went, the more the sound of bowling pins and cheap arcade machines faded behind thick walls. Over the last two hours, he’d searched every public record he could find. Construction permits, outdated blueprints, utility schematics—until he found the layout of the bowling alley tucked away in the files of the old company that had built it over a decade ago. It showed everything.

The public lanes. The hidden stairwell near the loading dock. The walled-off section in the back that didn’t show up on Google Maps. Perfect for a gang like the Union to operate from. He passed a locked supply room. Then another door slightly ajar.

And that’s when he heard it.

A voice, cocky and cruel, echoing from around the corner. “ ‘Don’t touch me.’ ” A boy mocked in a falsetto, laughter following behind him. “She looked like she was gonna cry. Soft little girl.”

Sieun stopped dead in his tracks.

The Union kid—maybe sixteen, seventeen—walked past the hallway Sieun was hidden in, still laughing with his friend. “Boss said not to mess with her, but damn, the attitude on that girl…” Their footsteps faded.

He didn’t twitch. Didn’t breathe loud. But behind his cold, blank stare, his mind was racing fast and sharp. He continued on foward, slipping past a broken bench, down a hallway with metal doors…Until there was a noise.

He froze. It was faint. Fragile. A sound that didn’t belong here. A breath catching. A choked sob. The kind someone tries to swallow down before it escapes. It came from the third door on the right. Sieun stared at it, unmoving. That was you, and you were crying.

He knelt down and pulled the multitool from his pocket, breath shallow, hands steady. The lock was rusted—old, but stiff. It took longer than he liked.

Click.

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The light inside flickered, casting long shadows across the stained floor. You sat in the corner, knees to your chest, fingers gripping your sleeves, eyes squeezed shut as if you were trying to disappear.

“Y/N.” He said quietly.

Your head snapped up. “…Sieun?”

He nodded once, stepping toward you. For a second, you didn’t move. Then your body sagged just slightly with relief. He crouched in front of you, gaze intense. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so.” You trembled.

He nodded in relief. He offered a hand, and you took it. “We have to move. Now.”

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The air in the office was thick with tension. Baekjin lounged behind his desk, calm as ever, like he was hosting an old friend for drinks, not a confrontation over a kidnapped girl.

Baku stood across from him, unblinking. “I’m not doing anything until I see proof she’s safe.” Baku said flatly.

Baekjin gave a slow, practiced nod. “Fair. We’re civilized, after all.” He glanced to his right. “Seongje. Escort him,” Baekjin said smoothly. “Show him she’s unharmed.”

Seongje flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot. “With pleasure.”

The halls they walked through were dim, narrow. Seongje kept his hands in his pockets, sauntering ahead like he was guiding a tour. “So tense.” He drawled. “Still trying to play hero, huh?”

Baku didn’t answer.

Seongje chuckled. “You should’ve joined when Baekjin offered. You’d have a throne by now instead of babysitting punks at Eunjang.”

As they rounded a corner, a couple of Union members spotted them—then immediately veered away, pretending to be busy. Baku noticed. So did Seongje. The fear wasn’t just from Baku’s presence. It was him, too. Even the Union kept their distance from Seongje. The man was unhinged.

They reached a hallway lined with unmarked doors. Seongje pulled out a keyring, whistling under his breath as he stopped at one near the end.

“She’s in here.” He said lazily, unlocking it. The second he swung the door open, the grin vanished from his face.

The room was empty.

No sign of Y/N.

“What the—”

Seongje took one step into the room—and that’s when Baku struck. A clean elbow to the jaw. Seongje stumbled, stunned. Before he could react, Baku slammed the door shut and snatched the key from the lock, twisting it hard and locking Seongje inside.

“BAKU!”

The door shook as Seongje threw his full weight against it, but it held—at least for now.

Baku turned. Three Union members were rushing down the hall. They paused when they saw who it was. He didn’t hesitate. The first went down with a solid punch to the gut. The second tried to grab him from behind—he flipped him over his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. The third backed up, reconsidering his life choices. Baku didn’t stop. He stormed down the hall, fists ready, eyes sharp, pushing toward the exit before the entire Union realized what had happened.

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You followed close behind Sieun, your heart hammering in your chest. The hallway was dim, stretching endlessly in both directions. You’d barely said a word since he found you. There hadn’t been time.

Sieun moved with surprising precision—checking corners, listening for footsteps. His hand hovered near his pocket, gripping the multitool like a blade.

You watched him from behind. He looked calm. But that calm was the scariest thing you’d ever seen. Like something inside him had clicked into place.

“Did you come with Baku?” You whispered after what felt like an eternity.

“Yes.” Sieun replied without turning. “He’s distracting them. He’ll be okay.”

You two reached a junction where two hallways split. He paused and checked the wall. There was faded arrows scratched into metal:

MAIN FLOOR →

LOADING DOCK ←

Sieun pointed left. “That way. It’s a service exit. Less cameras.” You nodded and kept close, moving quickly, silently.

The hallway curved again, and finally—at the far end—they saw it. An old steel door, dented and rusted. A red EXIT sign buzzed faintly above it. Your knees nearly buckled with relief.

You picked up speed.

Then—

A voice behind you.

“HEY! STOP!”

Sieun didn’t turn around. He shoved the door open and yanking you out with him before slamming it shut. You were outside, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. The lot behind the alley lay empty. Sieun’s eyes darted left. “There. The fence.”

You both took off, feet pounding against the pavement. Sieun reached it first, hoisting himself up and over in one swift motion. He turned, arm outstretched. “Come on!” You grabbed his hand just as the heavy door behind you screeched open. Multiple voices shouted from the alley, but you were already over, landing hard on the other side.

Sieun didn’t let go of your hand as you both disappeared into the night.

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The cold air bit at your cheeks, but you didn’t feel it—not over the throb of your heart or the rush of blood in your ears. Your hand were still wrapped in Sieun’s, your legs still shaking from the sprint. Your breath came in short, panicked gasps.

Then— A low whistle.

Sieun froze. He shifted in front of you instinctively, his hand tightening around the multi-tool in his pocket.

“Over here.” Baku stood at the mouth of a narrow alley, chest rising hard with every breath, blood on his shirt, a dark bruise spreading along his jaw. He looked like he’d gone through hell. When his eyes landed on you, something in his face cracked open.

“Y/N.”

You rushed to him. He caught you without a word, arms closing around you in a tight, grounding hug. You just clung to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You nod, even though you’re not sure. Your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m okay now.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m so sorry.” Baku whispered. His voice cracked. “This is my fault. You got dragged into this because of me.”

You shake your head. “No. Don’t do that.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not your fault,” You said. “It’s not your responsibility how other people act.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he pulls you into another quick hug. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.” You whispered firmly. When you step away, you return to Sieun’s side. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence steadies you. Just standing beside him makes it easier to breathe.

“We have to go.” Baku said already checking the corners. “Juntae and Gotak are waiting by the corner store. That’s our meetup point.”

“Gotak’s only calling the cops if we don’t show by the forty-five-minute mark.” He said. “It’s already been half an hour.” All three of you started jogging towards your usual meet up spot. Your lungs were on fire, but your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. The adrenaline’s thinning, leaving behind too many questions.

You glance at Baku as you slow just slightly beside him. “Why didn’t you guys call the cops from the beginning?” Baku doesn’t answer right away. He looks ahead, jaw tight, eyes tracking every shadow.

“What they did was illegal.” You said, your voice more brittle than you intended. “They kidnapped me.”

He exhales through his nose, sharp and bitter. “There’s someone over Baekjin.” He mutters, not looking at you. “Someone powerful. With money. Influence. The Union’s not just a gang—it’s a business. And the guy backing Baekjin knows how to keep it protected.”

The pieces click together slowly in your head. “So… even if you called…”

“There’s no guarantee the cops would’ve even shown up,” He says. “Not for us. Not for this.”

You don’t want to believe that. But the way he says it—it’s not anger. It’s experience.

“That’s why Gotak’s call was going to be about something else. Not the Union. A fake story. Something loud enough to get a patrol out without raising red flags.”

“But you didn’t know if it would work,” You whisper.

“No,” He says. “It might’ve backfired. They could’ve shown up late. Or worse—tipped someone off.”

You shiver. Not from the cold. Sieun glances back at you, just briefly.

Baku’s voice lowers again. “We couldn’t risk it. Not with you in there.” You nod, not because it makes you feel better—but because you understand now. This whole thing runs deeper than you thought.

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The small corner store glows under a flickering streetlight, its windows dark, shutters pulled halfway down. You spot them before they see you—two figures huddled near the alley wall behind it. Juntae is pacing. Gotak leans against the bricks, checking his phone.

Your group’s footsteps hit the alley gravel, soft at first, then louder as you draw closer. Gotak straightens immediately, snapping his head toward the sound. Juntae freezes mid-step. You see their shoulders tense, eyes wide. Then they see you. For a moment, there’s nothing. Just stunned silence.

“Oh my God,” Gotak mutters, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “You’re—holy shit, you’re here.”He runs both hands over his face and starts pacing again, this time out of pure adrenaline. “I thought you were dead. I thought—” He laughed breathlessly through the panic that hasn’t fully left his system. “I was this close to calling. This close.”

Juntae walks toward you slowly, almost cautiously. His eyes shimmer in the dim light, mouth opening like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Then he breaks. His shoulders shake, tears sliding down his cheeks before he can even pretend to stop them. “I thought we were too late.” He says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I thought they hurt you.”

Your chest twists. You step into his arms, pulling him close. “I’m okay.” You murmur. “We made it.”

Behind you, Sieun stands still—quiet and unreadable. His gaze is sharp, watching the ends of the alley like he’s expecting something to crawl out of the dark. He hasn’t relaxed, not even now.

“Ok. Let’s go.” Said Baku, glancing around as well. Your footsteps echoed softly, crunching over scattered gravel as the five of you moved in a tight formation—tense, alert, every shadow a possible threat. Gotak glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, nerves on edge. Juntae kept his gaze on you, as if afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

The bus stop is up ahead, dimly lit, empty. When the bus finally arrives, it hisses to a stop, the lights buzzing too bright against your tired eyes. You climb on in silence. There’s a long bench seat running across the rear, and without even needing to speak, you all settle there together, shoulder to shoulder. Baku squeezes in next to you, still quietly shaken. Gotak slumps on the other side of him, head tipped back against the window like it’s the only thing holding him up. Sieun takes the seat next to you while Juntae slides next him.

As the bus rolls deeper into the city, Baku finally breaks the silence. “We’re not splitting up tonight.”Everyone looks up. He turns slightly in his seat to face you. “You okay if we crash at your place?”

You nod before you’ve even fully thought about it. “Yeah. Please.” It’s not just about safety. You don’t want to be alone either. You glance at Sieun. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead, but there’s a distant look in them, like he’s not fully present. His posture is rigid, every muscle wound tight, yet his hand rests loosely on his thigh.

You slip your hand into his and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Even if his body stays stiff, there’s something in the way he leans just slightly toward you that makes your chest ache. A long minute passes like that—maybe two.

Then, from the far end of the bench, you hear a whisper:

“…Is it bad timing if I point out—once again—that I totally knew they had a thing?”

All you managed was a slow blink, thrown slightly off guard.

Baku’s eyebrow were raised, eyes fixed forward with faux innocence, but there’s a smug smirk tugging at his mouth. Gotak snorts beside him, and even Juntae manages a tired laugh.

The tension cracks, just slightly.

Sieun doesn’t say a word—but you catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You mutter, not even lifting your head. “You’re the worst.”

“I told you it was obvious,” Baku says, nudging Gotak with his knee. “You owe me fried chicken. For real this time.”

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By the time everyone made it back to your apartment, it was nearly 7:30 p.m. The sky outside had dimmed to a soft blue-gray, streetlights flickering on one by one. The boys had rushed home to grab a few essentials—chargers, a change of clothes, something to sleep in. You were surprised how quickly they came back.

Now, the smell of instant ramen fills the small living room, and the low murmur of conversation hums like background music. You’re all gathered on the floor around your tiny table—cross-legged, tired, but finally breathing a little easier.

Gotak is halfway through his second cup of noodles. Baku is lying flat on his back, slurping dramatically while Juntae pretends not to be grossed out. Sieun sits beside you, chopsticks in hand, though he hasn’t eaten much. He hasn’t spoken in a while. Not even to you. Still, when you reach for his hand, he lets you take it. He doesn’t squeeze back, but he holds on.

You pulled out blankets and pillows for the boys, grateful your couch unfolded into a bed. You laid the futon mattress beside it, making quick work of the setup. Baku and Gotak flopped onto the couch bed with exaggerated groans. Juntae immediately claimed the futon for himself.

You sit back beside Sieun, your shoulder brushing his. His face is still unreadable. Not cold just… somewhere else. His hair still messy, his clothes still the same ones from earlier, his eyes dull around the edges.

“Hey.” You gave his arm a light nudge. “Go wash up first. You’ll feel better.” You told him gently.

He blinked slowly, then gave you a slight nod and pushed himself up. His movements were heavy, like it took effort just to make his limbs work. You watched as he shuffled toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

While he was gone, the boys stayed sprawled across the living room. The television played quietly in the background as they talked among themselves—about what had happened earlier, about Seongje and Beakjin, about what they could’ve done differently. Their voices were low, occasionally interrupted by tired laughter or quiet sighs. Relief was in every breath, even in their exhaustion.

Ten minutes later, Sieun emerged again, steam following him into the hallway. His hair was damp and clinging to his skin, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t name. He didn’t say anything—just sat back down, cleaner but still quiet.

You grabbed your clothes and headed into the bathroom. In the bathroom, under the warm stream of water, the adrenaline finally began to fade. Your hands trembled slightly as you washed. Everything that had happened replayed in flickers—the cornering at the studio, the locked room, Seongje’s eyes, Beakjin’s quiet threat. You let the fear run its course.

You stepped out of the shower, dried off, changed into your pyjamas, and returned to the living room. They were all wrapped up in blankets now, only half-awake—except for Juntae, who was already fast asleep. The TV was still playing.

“Finally.” Baku muttered from his spot near the edge of the couch bed. “We were about to send a search party.”

“Shut up.” You shook your damp hair at him. Baku and Gotak grinned, tossing you a pillow.

“Goodnight guys.” You said, smiling at them all—until you reached for Sieun’s hand.

“Come on.” You whispered.

He followed when you tugged softly, his body slow to respond, but his feet moved.

Immediately, Baku perked up. “Whoa, whoa. Look who gets special treatment?”

Gotak snorted. “They’re officially disgusting.” You only rolled your eyes at him as you walked away.

You just glanced back at Sieun. He was still quiet. Still somewhere far away. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you led him down the hall toward your room. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t let go. The door closed behind you with a soft click, muffling the sounds from the living room. The quiet in your room was deeper—denser somehow.

You stepped out of your slippers and climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. You didn’t try to fill the silence. You simply waited, understanding that Sieun would speak when he was ready. Instead, you looked at him, meeting his distant eyes as he stood there unmoving. “Come here.” You said softly, barely above a whisper.

Eventually, he moved. His steps were slow and mechanical, like his body was running on leftover instinct rather than intention. He climbed into bed beside you without protest, his limbs stiff, breath shallow. When you gently pulled him closer, guiding him to lie across your chest, you felt him tense. His entire body locked up, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. He stayed like that for a moment…

Then, his breath shuddered. Just once.

His shoulders started to tremble.

The first sob was silent, but you felt it—deep and ragged, pulling through him like a wave. His fingers clutched the fabric of your shirt, and he buried his face against your chest as the shaking took over. His breathing grew uneven, shattered, tears soaking slowly through the cotton between you.

You held him without speaking, one hand moving slowly through his hair, the other resting on his back. You didn’t try to stop him. You just held on, steady and quiet, as he cried.

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You didn’t know how long the crying lasted. His body trembled with every breath, and you held him through it all. Quiet, steady, grounding. At last, the shaking began to slow. His breathing grew quieter, broken now and then by uneven exhales. He stayed pressed against you, his cheek against your chest, his fingers tangled in your shirt like he was still afraid to let go.

Then, in a voice so raw it barely sounded like him, he murmured: “It should be me comforting you.” You felt his shame in the way he tensed again, in how he couldn’t quite lift his head. “Not the other way around…”

You pressed your hand lightly to the back of his head, threading your fingers deeper into his hair and hushed him softly. “Don’t say that.” You spoke softly, but firmly. “I feel blessed that you trust me enough to give yourself to me like that.” You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You’re always holding yourself together for everyone else… I like that I get to be here for you.”

He went still in your arms, like those words struck something deep.

“I like comforting you.” You added affectionately.

Sieun didn’t respond right away. But the guilt in his silence slowly gave way to something softer as you continued to hold him. He finally exhaled, all the air he’d been holding in slipping out of his chest.

“I thought I was going to lose you too…” He whispered, voice small and broken. Tears were still slowly falling down his eyes.

And you understood.

His best friend was still in a coma, and that wound hadn’t healed. It would never heal. Watching you get pulled into danger today, hearing you cry through the walls, thinking for even one second that something could happen to you too—it broke something in him.

You pulled him closer, if that was even possible. “I’m here.” You whispered. “I’m safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a while, one hand gently tracing circles along his back. Even now, red-rimmed and glassy, his eyes were achingly beautiful. They always had been. There was something haunted about them, a kind of sadness that ran deep, but they held the truth too. Depth. Silence. Fire. You loved how expressive they were, even when he said nothing. And now, staring into them in the dark, you saw something fragile and raw staring back.

“I was scared earlier.” You whispered softly.

He didn’t move, but you felt the faint shift of his attention.

You took a slow breath, fingers trailing gently over his back again. “I knew you’d come for me. With Baku. I never doubted that. And that was the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down. But even while I waited… I wasn’t just afraid for myself. I was afraid for you.” Sieun stirred at that, his hand twitching slightly where it gripped you.

“I was so scared they’d hurt you. Baku as well, but if something would happen to you because of me. And…” You hesitated. “I felt awful too.”

Now he shifted, just enough to lift his head and look at you—eyes still red-rimmed and tired, but focused.

“I didn’t go to school this morning,” Your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it wasn’t my doing, but I know what that might’ve looked like to you. I know you overthink. I know how hard it is for you to trust that people won’t disappear. I kept thinking about how you might of felt in that moment….”

Sieun’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze for a second.

“The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” You said. “Not after everything. You matter to me. A lot.”

Sieun looked up at you. His eyes were glassy again, but not from pain. Something softer, deeper, rested there now. “You matter to me too.”

A small beat passed. You felt your heart stammer in your chest, but this time, not from fear.

You reached up, your hand resting gently against his cheek, brushing the damp skin beneath his eyes with your thumb. “I love you, Sieun. And I don’t say that because I think tonight was terrifying… I say it because I mean it. I’ve meant it for a while.”

You gave a small, shaky smile. “I know you’re going through a lot. And you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

He flinched, so subtly it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But you saw it. Felt it. And then something in his expression cracked. For a split second, you saw it…Something younger in his face. The echo of a little boy who had gone too long without hearing those words. A boy who learned to survive on silence. A boy who was never held gently, never reassured enough that he was worthy of being loved.

And then, just like that, he started crying again.

Not like before. These weren’t sharp or panicked sobs—this time it came like a release. Quiet. Slow. A grief melting into something softer. His chest hitched against yours, the sound of his breath shaky as tears spilled freely down his face again. You stayed like that in the dark, his breath uneven against your skin, his tears still falling, slow and silent.

But little by little, his body began to settle.

The shaking stopped. His breathing, though still heavy, found a rhythm. His grip on your shirt loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and soothing. You kissed his forehead gently. Not because it would fix everything. But because it told him: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Eventually, you felt the weight of him begin to shift slightly. The way his breath deepened, the way his body melted a little more into yours.

He had fallen asleep on your chest.

You watched the shadows shift in the room. Listened to the soft hum of the television through the wall. Your hand moved slowly through his hair one last time before resting gently at his nape. You exhaled, eyes fluttering closed, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you. And before long, you followed him into sleep.

Held together by the quiet, and everything that hadn’t needed words.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the feeling of warmth. Sieun’s weight was still against you. His head was tucked beneath your chin, one arm slung loosely around your waist, fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid it might disappear in his sleep. His breathing was slow and soft.

You didn’t move right away. You didn’t want to wake him. His face looked younger in the morning light. No more tear stains. Just peace. You brushed your fingers lightly through his hair, breathing in quietly, trying not to disturb the calm.

From the muffled rustling outside the door, you could tell the others were already awake. There was the soft clang of dishes, the groan of someone stretching, and a quiet whisper that sounded like Gotak grumbling about the cold floor.

You stayed where you were a little longer, letting yourself have this—this stillness. This comfort. This proof that you’d made it through the night.

When you stirred a little bit, Sieun blinked slowly awake, his brows twitching like he was still unsure of where he was. His gaze met yours, sleepy and confused. Then he blinked slowly as if memories from last night came back to him.

“Morning.” You whispered.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He murmured, voice hoarse with sleep and something deeper.

“I’m glad you did.” You replied. “You needed it.”

He closed his eyes again for a moment, breathing you in like he still wasn’t convinced any of this was real.

“I’m staying here today. I’m gonna call the ballet academy and the school. Let them know I won’t be coming.”

Sieun lifted his head slightly. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need the break. I’m ahead in most of my classes anyway. Math is the only one giving me a headache.”

Sieun was quiet for a second, then murmured, “I’ll stay too.”

You blinked.

“I can help with math… if anything.” He added sleepily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That pulled a soft laugh from your throat. You tightened your arms around him a little. “Of course you would.”

His lips barely curved, but it was there—a small, real smile.

You gave his forehead a kiss and suffled to get out of bed. “I’ll be back” You said gently.

You slipped out of the room and walked to the living room. You found the others slowly getting ready—pulling on jackets, slinging bags over shoulders.

“I’m not coming in today,” You said slowly, voice rough with sleep. “I’m gonna rest. Yesterday…” You trailed off, rubbing your arm. “Fear drains you like nothing else.”

Gotak gave a slow nod. “Of course.” His lips pressed together in understanding. Juntae’s expression softened, and Baku smiled as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

They lingered in the doorway.

You turned back to them, frowning faintly. “What are you guys waiting for?”

Juntae adjusted his glasses. “We’re waiting for Sieun.”

You hesitated, then answered, a little awkwardly, “Oh. He’s not coming either. He’s staying with me. He’s… exhausted too. From the stress.”

There was a beat of silence.

Baku opened his mouth—already leaning into one of his usual teasing remarks—but Gotak smacked the back of his head lightly. “Don’t.” He muttered.

Baku groaned, rubbing the spot. “I wasn’t gonna say anything bad.”

You rolled your eyes, lips tugging into a faint smile despite everything.

“Be careful.” Juntae said softly as they stepped out. “Text us later, okay?”

“I will.” You promised, and closed the door behind them, the apartment quiet once more.

You quickly made your calls and padded softly back to your room, the apartment now hushed and still.

Sieun was lying exactly where you’d left him, eyes fixed on the ceiling, blinking slowly. The blankets were pulled halfway up his chest, one arm bent behind his head, the other still resting where your body had been.

You crossed the room and crawled back onto the bed. He turned his head to look at you, eyes heavy but clear now.

You slid under the covers beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “They left.” You murmured. “I told them we’re staying home.”

He nodded faintly. “Good.”

You laced your fingers through his under the covers, your bodies still facing one another, only inches apart. The morning light filtered faintly through the curtains, soft and pale, wrapping the room in stillness.

“Do you wanna sleep a little more?” You whispered, your voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to do anything yet.”

Sieun blinked slowly, his gaze resting on yours. His eyes were still shadowed from everything, but there was something gentler now.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah… if you stay here, then yeah.”

He inched closer until your foreheads nearly touched and your legs brushed beneath the blanket. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady, grounding. With your fingers still laced in his, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you, quiet and undisturbed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke to the softness of morning light spilling faintly through the curtains, warm sheets tangled between you and Sieun. He was facing you, still close, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, you just watched him. His face was softer than you’d seen it in weeks, the shadows under his eyes were lighter, his jaw no longer tight with tension.

He looked… rested. Like sleep had actually touched something deep in him.

You leaned in just a little and brushed your nose gently against his. His eyes blinked open slowly, hazy with sleep at first. His gaze locked on you, and something in it melted. You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek with gentle fingers. His skin was warm, familiar. Comforting. A sight left him.

He mirrored the motion, his own hand rising to touch your cheek, his thumb grazing softly along the edge of your jaw. His eyes were still on you, and this time, they sparkled with something bright and warm. Like he was looking at you and seeing something precious.

A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know…” He started, voice low and rough. “I’ve never said this to anyone before.”

You waited, your heart beating a little faster.

He didn’t rush. He never did. But the silence between you was alive with something unspoken.

“I thought I knew how to live with being alone. I got used to it.” He said quietly. “Used to not being wanted… not being seen. Even before everything with my friend, I was already disappearing.”

His eyes flicked down for a second, then found yours again. “I didn’t think someone like you could care about someone like me.” He said, a small, breathless laugh escaping him, almost in disbelief. “But I kept falling. Every time you talked to me, every time you looked at me like I was worth something… I kept falling.”

His voice broke just slightly—just enough.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered. “I didn’t say anything last night. But I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how.”

Your eyes stung suddenly, but all you could do was smile—because Sieun was looking at you with eyes that always carried a storm, and now, somehow, there was sunlight in them too.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you gently closer, his forehead resting against yours.

The kiss was soft—barely there at first, a brushing of warmth, then firmer as Sieun leaned in with more certainty. He kissed you like something fragile and precious. His hand stayed at the nape of your neck, anchoring him to you.

There was a small smile on your lips, the kind that came from somewhere deep, somewhere safe.

“So…” You whispered, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Am I officially your girlfriend now?”

Sieun blinked, and then a slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” He said softly. “You are.”

He looked a little surprised at himself for saying it out loud, but he didn’t take it back. If anything, he looked proud—like the words tasted good.

You smiled wider, your chest feeling light for the first time in days. “Good.” You said, quietly teasing. “Because I was starting to wonder how long I had to wait.”

Sieun let out a soft laugh under his breath, then leaned in and kissed you again—still slow, still tender. As you pulled back just slightly to look at him, your heart fluttered at the sight. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. He looked so soft in that moment.

You leaned in again. This time, you let your lips move with more intention. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss just enough to draw a small breath from him. His mouth opened under yours, responding now, but letting you lead. His breath was warm, his body pliant, and you felt him tremble slightly

“Can I… try something?” You whispered, barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer at first. He just blinked at you. For a second, you saw the shyness flicker through him, like he was still learning how to accept being wanted this way.

But then, slowly, he nodded.

“I’ve honestly lost count of how many times you’ve saved me.” You said, your voice quiet, a teasing lilt curling at the edges. “I really have to find a way to repay you… for being such a gentleman.”

Sieun’s ears flushed instantly, a deep red crawling up to his cheeks. But he didn’t look away. His eyes stayed on yours, soft and full of wonder, and something else—something that made your chest warm. He blinked slowly, clearly overwhelmed, but his voice came out, low and sincere: “You don’t owe me anything…”

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough to feel him sigh into it.

“I know.” You whispered. “But I want to.”

His eyes widened just slightly—his whole body still, waiting—but behind the shyness, there was trust. And maybe, even anticipation.

You smirked, just a little. “Turn over. On your back.”

Sieun blinked, slightly breathless. He nodded, quiet and obedient, and shifted slowly onto his back, the blankets rustling softly around him. You sat up beside him, brushing some hair from your face as you looked down at him.

“Just relax.” You said gently, your voice light but with a teasing edge. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard, but didn’t resist—just watched you, his fingers twitching slightly on the comforter.

You leaned over him, letting your fingertips trace softly along the line of his jaw. “If anything feels uncomfortable… tell me. Okay?” Your voice was sincere, grounding. “I mean it. We stop the second you want to.”

Sieun nodded immediately, almost too fast. “I know.” He murmured. “I trust you.”

That look in his eyes made your breath catch. You leaned down, brushing a slow kiss over his cheek, then his jaw. His breath caught as your hand flattened over his chest, feeling the fast rhythm of his heart.

You pressed your lips to the side of his neck now. The skin there was soft, warm, and you couldn’t help but linger, letting your kiss trail along the curve of his neck. He shuddered slightly at the sensation, his body stiffening for just a moment before he relaxed again under your touch. His hand found its way to your back, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling faster.

Sieun’s eyes fluttered shut as he tilted his head just slightly, silently offering you more. A quiet breath escaped him. You let your mouth linger, lips pressing just firmly enough to draw a soft gasp from his throat. When you finally pulled away, his skin was faintly flushed, and a delicate bloom of red marked the spot where your mouth had been.

Your fingers moved gently along the hem of his shirt, your touch featherlight—asking, not taking. When your eyes lifted to meet his, you found him already watching you. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, but he only nodded his head at your silent question.

You slowly slid the fabric up, revealing the pale skin beneath. You moved with care. This wasn’t about rushing, it was about seeing him and taking care of him. Sieun’s breathing hitched as your fingers traced his collarbone, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. You kissed down his chest and took on of his nipple into your mouth and bite it gently. Sieun responded with a sound in the back of his throat that sent shivers down your spine.

You continued your way down, pressing soft kisses along the waistband of his pajama bottoms. His hands clenched the comforter tightly, knuckles paling with tension. “Still okay?” You asked, pausing, your fingers already hooked around the band of both his joggers and underwear.

“Y-Yeah.” He responds shakily. “Please…”

You slowly remove his bottom, feeling nervous yourself. Your lips parted in surprise when his dick sprang free, mouth already salivating. You took your time and ran your hands up his legs, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt as your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thighs.

Sieun squeezed his eyes shut when you delicately took a hold of him. He was heavy and hard in between your hand. Pre-cum was slowly dribbling down his length. A quiet exhale slipped from Sieun’s lips. It almost sounded like a curse.

You rubbed up and down him tentatively, testing how much pressure seemed to be getting the right reaction. The muscles of his thighs tightened as you focused on the head of his cock and more fluid leaked down to his base. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” You couldn’t help but whisper in awe. His dick twitched in your grasp in answer.

Gathering your courage, your tongue timidly darted out to lick him. Sieun mouth opened, but no words came out. He raised himself on his elbow to look down at you, surprised. You could see the blush spreading across his cheeks, a shade you’d never seen on him before, making him look so vulnerable, so beautiful.

Under his gaze, you simply continue to lick his tip, your tongue flattening over his slit, slurping on his pre-cum. A whimper left Sieun’s mouth and you look up to see his face contorted in pleasure, features softening into an expression of pure bliss.

He let himself fall back on his back when you decided to take him fully. Your hand wrapped around the parts of him you couldn’t reach. You moaned around him, the vibration causing to him gasp. Your eyes closed a moment in concentration as you greedily took more, gagging around him a little bit. Sieun’s head tipped back against the pillow, exposing his throat fully. His hands were still by his side, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably in the sheets.

“Y/N I’m—“ He interrupted himself, bringing his forearm over his face, trying to hide—whether from the intensity or from how exposed he felt, even he didn’t know. His lips parted, and a quiet, helpless sound slipped out. His body became tensed.

Suddenly, a growl left him as hot cum shoot down your throat. You continued sucking as spurt after spurt came, taking everything he gave you. Sieun’s chest was rising and falling erratically. His whole body was shaking in satisfaction. Soft whimper escaped his lips now as you sucked him dry and finally released him.

When you rose, breathless, you gently reached for Sieun’s forearm, which had still been shielding his eyes. With a soft touch, you moved it away, revealing the rawness in his expression. His eyes fluttered open, still clouded with a mixture of vulnerability and bliss. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His gaze softened, meeting yours, but there was something almost frantic in the way his hands reached for yours, seeking reassurance.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, just leaned into your touch, as if grounding himself with the connection between the two of you. His lips parted, but no words came out—only a quiet, shaky breath as his body trembled slightly beneath you.

You gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a slow, soothing motion. Your heart ached a bit at the rawness in his eyes, the vulnerability he was letting slip through. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in a little closer, your voice lighter than before.

“So, are you okay?” You asked, your tone playful, but the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Or do I need to keep checking on you to make sure I didn’t break you?”

For a moment, Sieun just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, a flicker of something crossed his face, and his lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile but was too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions.

“I’m fine.” He said, his voice hoarse but earnest, though it still held a quiet vulnerability. “Just… didn’t expect that.”

You raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.“

Sieun blushed, his eyes flickering to the side, and for the first time since everything started, he looked like he was finding his footing again. You could feel the tension in his body start to loosen, a soft chuckle escaping him in response.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” he said again, this time with more conviction. “Just… give me a minute.”

You giggled then nodded, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss against his forehead before resting your head back on his shoulder. “Take all the time you need,” You whispered softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[mandukkul]

#48 with Ni-ki for your 1k celebration event. You can use whatever you’d like for the trope (maybe fake dating or childhood friends?)

7:55pm — nrk

tags: ni-ki x reader, fake dating, prompt #48, "okay, that's it. we're leaving. come on.." , fluff, crack

word count: 1.3k , not proofread, likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

°❀⋆manny's 1k celebration event .ೃ࿔*:･

After 4 months of faking your relationship with, equally as infamous, famous Ni-ki, people are starting to suspect something. Because, Ni-ki being Ni-ki, was known for his physical touch and his closeness to people. He drapes a lazy arm around his friends, leans on them, punches them, literally anything as long as he glues himself to their side.

But after getting together with you, people startb to notice how you and Ni-ki barely interact. Sure they see you two always together in the hallways, lunch, sometimes even catch you togetehr after school. But there's always been a distance between you two, a barrier that was unspoken. For all the time theyve seen you and Ni-ki together, theyve only seen you hug once, hold hands twice, and possibly a finger graze one other time.

Outsiders assumed that you– in particular– were not much for PDA, with your quiet disposition, standoffish personality, but with how his friends ended up befriending you too, they come to think otherwise.

Ever the observant. Sunghoon was the first to notice, to see how you and Ni-ki bickered with eachother— like a married couple— but still standing within arms length of eachother. How you’d walk side by side, but never bump into eachother. not even once.

Then it was Sunoo, who was quick to take in how you never shied away from Jake’s constant high fives and aggressive back pats, but never seem to even come close to the minimal effort you and Ni-ki put into the relationship.

and later, each member had their encounter with you’re down to earth ness, and attraction to physical touch despite what you lead others to believe.

Now you’ve started to pick up more eyes on you than normal. you’ve gotten used to the lingering gaze of others, becuase Ni-ki being Ni-ki, you were bound to be the talk of some conversations. How you’d here some defend you and your shy (not really) demeanour, but not Ni-ki’s (now yours too) friends.

You’re all out at the theme park, after begging from Jake and Ni-ki saying it’d be good for your relationship’s reputation.

After the obligatory rides forced by Ni-ki, and a queasy amount of overpriced carnival food and a blurry hour of god knows what, you’ve all settled down together, on one of the picnic tables.

you sit across from ni-ki, who’s finishing off what’s left of your red bean bun. Despite how tired you are, you’re still inclined to tune into the conversation.

“We just had our first kiss last week!” Sunoo recounts, just getting into a relationship of his own barely a month ago.

Absent-mindedly, you reach over to Ni-ki, silently asking for the bubble tea you guys decided to share.

“That’s crazy! The honeymoon phase is so strong with you too!” Jake exclaims as he stuffs his face with various fried foods. “i think it’s normal” Jungwon adds as he reaches a hand over to jake to stop the inhalation of food.

“yeah you’re right” Jake nods, though he doesn’t relent in the food in his hold. Then his eyes flick towards you and ni-ki.

He observes you both silently, how you’re chewing on your straw, completely zoned out while Ni-ki stuffs his mouth with more taiyaki.

“hey, did you guys have your first kiss already?” Jake blurts out, which instantly snap both you and Ni-ki’s attention.

you share a brief gaze to each other, silent panic in your bones.

“why?” you retort back, short and curt.

Jake simply shrugs, “you’re nearly at your 5 month anniversary, and i barely see you too even bump shoulders” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“it’s because his shoulders are at the ceilings” you’re quick to reply, but you know it’s true.

you got into a fake relationship for your family to get off your back about setting you up with a family friend and his to stop the rapid flow of confessions heading his way.

you were merely strangers at first, in two completely opposite ends in the social circles. barely even knowing each other's names before you decided to strike up a deal with each other.

and despite how annoying he is, you’ve become unlikely friends— maybe likely with how often you spend around others. Nonetheless, you guys are close.

But you hope that it isn’t just you who notices the lingering gazes you give each other, the smallest presence of electricity when your knees knock into each other, the way your pinkies graze; the way you seek for him when you walk into a room.

You hope.

“don’t be weird, we like how lowkey our relationship is” Ni-ki quips, punching Jake's shoulder for good measure.

until Heeseung decides to add his 2 cents.

“Jake’s right, for all the time we see you two together, you seem to not be close”

For obvious reasons, you can't reveal your relationship, and you can’t reiterate enough about how the mere actions Ni-ki does makes your heart skip.

“it’s like you guys aren’t even togeth-“

“Okay, that's it. we're leaving. come on.” Ni-ki suddenly declares as your eyes instinctively follow his standing figure. you’re mid sip when Ni-ki pulls you along by the wrist hearing cheers coming from your friends as you leave.

Ni-ki drags you all the way to the ferris wheel. his fingers around your wrist leaves a burning sensation. Your cheap soda was discarded at some point, leaving you undeniably parched as your eyes follow the leading figure in front of you.

You don't even know when he bought tickets for the ferris wheel, only that you're suddenly in a carriage, sitting awkwardly across from your pretend boyfriend.

Ni-ki is slumped over, in a sulky position, as you stare out the window to watch people turn into ants.

“You know” you start, as your eyes flick to glance at Ni-ki. “I wouldn't mind kissing you, you know, to shut them up” you choose to leave out the part where your heart is patter so irrecoverably hard against your chest that you're sure would rattle against the cart’s walls.

Ni-ki all but stares at you, eyes of bewilderment finding your figure. Your own staring out the window, the sunset shining into the carriage, the slight wobble of the cart– doing everything but look at him.

Suddenly, the space inside the carriage seems too tight, too small, as your feet somehow knock into Ni-ki’s.

And then there's a hakting pause that swings your cart, shaking it hard enough to lose your seating.

When you find yourself on top of Ni-ki, hand securely around your waist as the other one braces himself.

You try your best to not make eye contact as your hand finds home tucked into his chest.

“Im gonna kill myself” you mutter to no one in particular, though he doesn’t miss the reddening of your ears as you look down, and you sure don’t miss the creeping blush on his cheeks.

A deep, reverbated chuckle erupts in his chest, and suddenly you're pulled deeper into his chest and feel his chin settle on top yours.

“Not here” he laughs, and your eyebrows knit.

“Huh?”

“Killing yourself i mean” he jokes, stroking your hair softly.

“But a kiss, i'm totally up for”

So you lean up without hesitation, lips on his like it's the simplest thing in the world.

And time stops.

Until you hear Ni-ki’s phone vibrate once. And then twice, and then it's a cacophony of buzzing that unfortunately pulls you both away with a frustrated sigh.

“These idiots” he sighs, pulling out his phone and being welcomed with an array of sneaky videos recorded from the bottom of the ferris wheel.

You laugh heartily as you settle yourself back on your seat, much to Ni-ki’s dismay, peering over to look down to your group of friends, camera pointed up like paparazzi.

At least now, faking it will be a little easier.

[televisionenjoyer]

It's so rare these days to see a statement I so hardly disagree with and I statement I so hardly agree with side by side that I just had to give my two cents

Secondary education is essential to gauge that one has the necessary literacy to properly absorb higher education. It's essential for going through life itself and in that I agree with you, all levels of education should be accessible to anyone: someone who hasn't finished high school should be facilitated the opportunity to do so at any age and pursue higher education should they desire it.

But when I say literacy I mean general cognitive and rationalizing skills that are fundamental, and professionally should be unnegotiably mandatory. You can't just give a doctorate to someone who doesn't have these skills, and on this day and age, the only way to prove someone has these skills is by testing and certifying them. That's all secondary education is, in a way, a certification that you have these skills. It's also a formative experience in general and teaches values such as responsibility and compromise that are also very handy. Secondary education is in general a very important experience to have and like. Whether you're gonna operate on someone or become a graphic designer, is crucial to properly exercise your professional responsibility to others (your patients, your clients, the general public, etc.)

There are a lot of subjectivities in regards to the factors that make you "pass" or "fail" high school, and many aspects to the experience of high school that make it regrettably undesirable and burdensome. But even with all its current flaws it's so fucking important. So fucking important.

The whole concept of the SAT or whatever it's called in the counties in which this is a defining factor in college admissions and such is insane to me like wdym you have to study EVERYTHING for a test that will gauge ALL OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE EVER chill out dude

[fudgebuggyy]

H E L L I C O N I A S P R I N G

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bob x Thunderbolts!Yelena

Tags: Post-Canon, Thunderbolts Team Members Live in the Watchtower, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Thunderbolts SPOILERS contained!, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Addiction, Sexual Themes

Word count: 4.052k

Chapters: 2/3

Previous Chapter

Summary: Three months have passed since the Void descended upon New York, and Yelena is getting used to the life her sister led--dealing with PR agents and working in a team she's only recently learned to tolerate.

And then there's the Bob thing. And the Bob thing is super fucking complicated.

Bob told Yelena about the only person who had ever loved him from start to finish. He said it like that too, from start to finish. Like it was some grand, unbelievable gesture bestowed upon only the most deserving; like the Pope, or the son of “The Crocodile Hunter”.

Bob’s aunt had been one of those old-school hippies whose biggest achievement had been performing in a shoegaze band at Woodstock. She’d worn fringe vests and clunky crystal earrings and laced her coffee with turmeric powder. In summer, she'd rage against the cicadas by playing the guitar on her porch, her yellow bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac, with the crooked eaves and the sun catchers that scattered the loveliest light. 

Her favorite movie was The Man Who Fell to Earth starring David Bowie.

She spent most of his childhood fleeing the suburbs for beautiful places; Jaipur, the Sinai Peninsula, sending postcards from the Yellow Mountains in Anhui that Bob hid from his mother, who always thought of her sister as "dangerously progressive". Off and on, she reappeared on the porch of her little bungalow, the adventurer returned home, bestowing upon him riches from countries so far away they felt huge and cartoonish in his head at thirteen.

She taught Bob chess and how to roll a cigarette, and every once in a while, she taught him some dusty dance in her backyard—disco fox, Viennese waltz—her ditzy laughter, and her breath bloated with alcohol.

Like her sister, she had a bad taste in men. She forever fell for the lead singer, and they forever did something horrible that chased her out the country. That’s why you go for the drummers, Robbie. You go for the compass, the pulse of the group. They’re worth their weight in gold.

She died of lung cancer. Bob was nineteen. He spent months crashing in his dealer’s trailer at the edge of town, trying to get so high he’d forget or maybe die, but each time he came to, he was spit out into a world without her.

Bob had spoken about his aunt only once and then never again.

Yelena wondered if you could piece someone together based on the people they’d loved, or further even, if you could love someone based on who they were loved by. She wasn’t sure yet. She wasn’t sure about a lot of things.

But, bit by bit, she’d piece Bob together, a patchwork of tossed-aside comments and strange stories and extraordinary mistakes and the sun tattooed in the dip below his right ankle, and by the time the fourth month rolled around, whatever had been coming for her, came for her all at once.

It felt more like a reckoning than a realization.

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

Being in a room with Bob made every part of her tilt towards him.

Yelena imagined herself living the rest of her life always standing at an angle, like the shadow of a very defective, very useless sundial. Pivoting every time Bob moved from bedroom to common area to kitchen to couch to gym to therapy to the helipad to everywhere else. Pivoting even when the pivoting meant it would earn her a hunting knife to the arm.

It had happened on the last day of a two-week mission to shut down some black-market biotech ring dabbling in interdimensional manipulation (which was a mouthful). In Svalbard of all places (which was super awful). Because of course international super villains never tried to dismantle the fabric of reality from some cushy beach villa in the Bahamas.

And of course Yelena had been too busy wondering about Bob back at the tower, wondering if he’d woken up yet, if his hair was stringy and curling from his shower, if he’d made himself a cup of coffee yet, and how ridiculous it was that he always added a spoon to it even when he skipped the milk, and how she’d asked him once, and how he’d said he’d only had Folgers instant coffee growing up, and how he’d gotten used to grinding down those tough little kernels—

“Alright, count to three because this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker,” Bucky warned her on their flight back, lifting a field stapler to her bleeding arm and pressing down.

He wasn’t kidding.

The clarity barely lasted a minute. Before, hunched in her seat trying not to scream, she thought about the only thing she’d been thinking about for days: Are you reading in the den? Are you watching The French Chef without me? Are you out for a smoke? Are you letting Valentina talk you into that horrific supersuit again? Yellow’s not your color. Are you bored? Do you miss me? Are you thinking of me? Do you ever just sit there and think and think and think and think and think of me—

“—I’m just saying, I’d appreciate it if I were utilized more. It’s always: Ghost, run through that wall! Ghost! Disappear!”

Walker groaned. “That’s what you do.”

“Case in point, you fucking moron.”

They were a clump of bloodied, beaten cretins by the time they slopped into the tower, dragging themselves to the common area like a funeral procession.

Ava and John had been at each other’s throats since takeoff, and the endless flight from Svalbard’s base had made Yelena ponder ripping the staples out of her arm to let herself bleed to death.

“Bucky, why don’t you jot this very serious issue down so we can discuss it with HR," John said, grinning when he was met with Bucky's vibranium middle finger. 

“Just because mass casualty is off the table, doesn’t mean I have to be shoved aside to pick locks,” Ava swung her arm towards John, “while Captain Cuck over here gets to spray his bullets around like he’s Tony Montana.”

“Oh, that’s good one, Ava. Very funny.” Dragging his fractured leg, Alexei howled the way he always did. He had a real pervert’s laugh, and it was loud and bellowing enough to smack even Yelena out of her stupor.

She rolled her eyes. “Not that I enjoy jumping to his defense, but they had us cornered.”

Vindicated, John waved at her. “Thank you—”

"What was he supposed to do?” she cut him off, “smack them with his hat?”

“For the last time, it’s a beret.”

“You gave your hat a name?” Alexei scrunched his brows.

“No, that’s the—You know what, screw all of you. It tested well with the focus groups. Plus, my kid likes it.”

“Didn't know god-awful taste is genetic," Ava mumbled.

Judging by the look on John’s face, she wouldn’t have made it to the kitchen in one piece if Bob hadn’t kicked the door open, wielding a baking dish filled with blistering, bubbling cheese. 

“Welcome back,” he said, like a mother in a 50’s sitcom, all frazzle-haired and oven-mittened and wonderful.

Something in Yelena sagged with so much relief she wanted to crawl towards him on her hands and knees and wrap herself into a ball at his feet.

He looked just the way they’d left him.

“You made your lasagna?” she croaked. She sounded like someone who’d had their arm stapled shut on a ten-hour flight from a frozen tundra at the end of the world.

“I made four.”

Satisfied groans from all around.

“Come here.” Alexei was already climbing over John and Bucky to grab Bob by the face.

“That won’t be necessary.” Caught in a chokehold, Bob’s cheeks ripened with a brilliant flush. “Thank you—Oh. Okay. Please…stop—”

“We missed you, Bobby boy.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I made you food that isn’t poached.”

Alexei grumbled another one of his dirty-old-man laughs before giving Bob’s head a silly smooch.

And as they spread across the counters and dug into heaps of Lasagna alla Bolognese in exhausted silence, Bob watched over them like a mother hen counting all of her chicks, and then counting them twice.

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

After a long visit to the med bay and an even longer shower, Yelena lay sprawled on the couch in the den, lumped under so many blankets and throw pillows she’d have to be exhumed. Loafy-warm and liquefied and aching, she struggled to keep her eyes on the projector screen: The French Chef, season two, episode four: "Coq au Vin".

(Bob hadn’t watched without her.)

It turned out, he’d spent most evenings in the den, hints of him lazily scattered about; his AirPods on the coffee table, a forgotten mug, a notebook and pen, a tattered paperback with a strange bird on the cover and a title Yelena couldn’t decipher from afar.

The faint smell of his deodorant. Clean lemongrass.

Every once in a while, her attention drifted towards Bob, who was the only one awake enough to join her. (Also, the only one who was willing to sit through an hour of Julia Child explaining how to properly chop chives.) Sitting on the blankets next to her, his hand so close she could touch him if she just flexed her pinkie far enough.

Something about this made her feel young, like she was back in Ohio having returned from a sweltering summer afternoon out on the block, lolling on the couch with the television on while Natasha braided her hair in slow measured strokes.

Yelena didn’t know when returning to the tower had started to feel like returning home. This bastioned mountain filling a space in her mind that had been kept vacant for a reason. Now, home was a military-grade security system and steel beams and tinted glass and the loose collars of Bob’s pale blue sweaters that dipped just so, and dipped so sweetly sometimes she could spot the space between his collar bones, begging for her thumb to be pressed to it.

What did you do without us around? Did you wonder about me? Did you think of me, ever? Did you miss me? Were you so miserable with the missing of me?

“Were you okay?” She asked this carefully, checking in like she was checking for a fever.

Bob gave one of his silly Bob-snorts. In her head, she could eat them. “You know,” he arched a brow, “contrary to popular belief, I’m able to survive in a glorified luxury bunker without talking to a volleyball…or like, I don’t know, hanging myself in a closet.”

“That’s not funny, Bob.”

“It’s a little funny,” he mumbled, smiling. She wanted to touch his eyelashes. “It was fine. Boring, but uh—you know. I think I spent way more time in therapy just to have someone to talk to. Umm…practiced with the nunchucks. Still terrible at it. Oh, and I tried making a soufflé.”

Her slow tired smile. “From season one, episode twenty-nine?”

He snorted again, endlessly amused by her knowing each episode's name and number by heart. Outdated American references stored tidily in her head, relics from her time spent strapped in front of television screens leeching on this country’s culture like a tick.

“That’s the one,” he said. “Apparently, I’m worse at making soufflés than using nunchucks, so do with that what you will.” He picked at the blankets. “I taught Mel how to play chess. We did a whole tournament-type thing.”

“Did you win?”

“Oh, she beat me, like, immediately. And then she let me win the last round because she felt bad.”

Yelena huffed a laugh. “How would you know? Maybe you’re better at chess than making soufflés and using nunchucks.”

“No, she made sure to tell me. Multiple times.” Bob snorted again.

“I feel like Mel could secretly beat the shit out of me.”

“We should probably keep an eye on her.”

“Make sure she doesn’t cause global annihilation."

"Yeah."

"Yup."

He smiled, then took a breath, then looked up. “What about you? Were you okay?”

Yelena swallowed.

Anywhere else, with anyone else, her answer might’ve been different. She might’ve skipped over those long agonizing nights staking out in the hull of a cargo ship, or the young Interpol agent who’d been caught in their crossfire, his body going limp in her arms. She might've scoured through herself looking for the right box to push it into, push it away.

But this was Bob, and she was so tired.

“No,” she said.

Shifting, he turned towards her fully.

His eyes looked darker like this, darker even when his attention zeroed in on her bandaged arm. It happened sometimes, this disquieting panic that felt instinctual, old, swelling inside of her, reminding her of the day his black shape rose over New York. A gaping pit of nothing, its never-ending tunnels to places unfathomable. 

She wanted to hold his face in her hands and tell him that she was fine, she was okay, I’m okay like this, I’m okay now. But she was tired. She’d missed him. She’d been so miserable with the missing of him.

With every ounce of energy she had left, she arched her pinkie towards his—just a little, inch by inch—until, finally, the tip of her nail grazed the tip of his.

She knew the shape of this feeling by heart.

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

Yelena had spent most of her life doling out punishment for people who believed they had the right to lord over those who deserved it and those who didn’t.

She was twenty-seven by the time she’d destroyed the last trace of the Red Room. People intentionally had kids at twenty-seven, they went on their last backpacking trip before settling for a career, they had cars that didn’t have to be shitty, they had a place of their own where they could afford the furniture. They were in relationships and went on dates and had sex and went out and complained about how they couldn’t drink the way they used.

At twenty-seven, the first thing Yelena had ever gotten herself was a tactical vest (with pockets), followed by a vinyl she couldn’t play (Dusty Springfield), and a gay porno on VHS that she’d watched in a motel in Arkansas (Saving Ryan’s Privates).

She supposed at that point, sex had been an alien thing, only to be whispered about in the bunk beds of the Red Room, a lecherous thrilling secret, oh, the things to be felt, Yelena! Have you tried it with a showerhead? Even kissing had been alien—kissing was for jewelry commercials and rom-coms about witty men meeting witty women in rainy cities, it was for Italian frescoes and horny poets and the horny chain-smoking Frenchmen in Bob’s New Wave movies.

The first person Yelena had ever kissed was Kate Bishop, and it had been as terrifying as it had been perfect, this trembling thing that unspooled inside of her, how the needing of it had surprised her so completely she could’ve begged for it on hands and knees. She’d concluded that kissing was as much for jewelry commercials and horny poets—as it was for the Kate Bishops of the world.

But then Kate had broken her heart, and Yelena had stumbled through the rest of her life wondering if she was meant for kissing too, or if all she was good for was assembling a gun.

And then there was sex.

And sex was something she didn’t know how to have sober. (Even with the Kate Bishops of the world.)

It wasn’t a thing she thought or worried about much. It existed mysteriously in the periphery of her life; along with dating and backpacking trips, and whatever average customs and crises plagued the people her age. But then sometimes, just sometimes, every once in a while during moments so minute...Bob stretched and the hem of his sweater skimmed up his skin…Sometimes he brushed past her in the kitchen, and his hand grazed her waist so tenderly it must’ve been by accident…Sometimes she felt his breath blast down the back of her neck, her elbow in his ribs, his knee sinking into the meat of her thigh—

“—faster. You’re dragging.” With a shove backward, Yelena unhooked Bob from herself, and he went tumbling onto the training mat. “You can’t second-guess yourself. You don’t have time for that when you’re fighting for—”

“—for your life, I know. I know.”

“Then move like it.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do? And that’s a rhetorical question, please don’t answer that.” Bob fell to his back, his T-shirt shucked up to reveal the taut planes of his stomach.

Swallowing, Yelena looked away. She leaned forward to catch her breath, wiping away the sweat stinging her eyes. The stitches in her arm had popped; she could feel it.

Bob sat up, completely dry and breathing normally. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yelena—”

“I said I’m fine, Bob.”

His concern shouldn’t have bothered her the way it did. Neither should his sweat-less-ness.

Sure, he fought like someone who’d avoided fighting his whole life, stiff and unsure, and more stiff and unsure than he usually was on the mat. But he was far stronger than he had been a month ago, faster too, and Yelena knew what that meant. Soon, the only people he could train with were those able to survive a super-serum-induced punch with the blowback of a sonic boom. Yelena was for the regulars, the humans with their breakable bones and woundable flesh, and here she was sparring with a man who had the potential to be the most cataclysmic force on planet earth.

The very least she wanted to do for him was teach him how to fight when fists were the last resort: Hand-to-hand, face-to-face, bound, gagged, feral, with nothing to lose. She’d been doing this long enough to know that even gods and super-humans met their match eventually.

She needed Bob to pack a nasty uppercut once the time came.

Nudging him with her foot, she said, “Come on, get up.”

“Yelena…”

“Again.“

He sighed. She cocked a brow. He relented. Again, they circled each other. And again, his movements dragged, almost as if it were deliberate. Yelena was so fucking tired of being held back on. Sliding her foot between his legs, she managed to unbalance him, aiming at his ribs in a series of quick cruel jabs, his breath close and damp enough she felt it spill below her ear. She pushed. He tumbled.

Again, she demanded. Again. Again. “Again, Bob.”

“Yel—”

“Again. “

And so they returned to the same sequence of movements—elbow hook, low sweep, slip and circle—again and again, until finally, Bob, like an ancient colossus exhausted from defending himself from some mortal’s fickle weaponry, grabbed her by the waist and hurled her onto the mat so hard her breath spewed out in one vicious blow. The pain in her arm wrecked through the rest of her body. Teeth clenched to keep herself from yelling. Dizzy, reeling through the whiplash, a body shoved above hers, head stooped low, shrouded in dark as it crowded out the light.

The panic this time was strange. Thicker. Hot. Something primal that dug through her skin. She felt it vibrate in her hands as she reached for him. An impulse so ingrained it was muscle memory. Grabbing hold of his head, she tugged him close, and when he turned his face…light pooled along the smooth valleys of it. 

He blinked. He softened, his head bumping puppy-like and clumsy against hers. 

“Shit,” he ground out. “I didn’t mean to, I’m—sorry. Sorry. Are you—”

“I don’t break that easy.”

He was so close his face was a pale blur. “I’m sorry," he said again. 

Her fingers tightened in his hair, then loosened. “Don’t apologize.”

The heat of him like this. Her feet ground into the mat. Her chest swelling with air, and his breath, and the smell of his deodorant, clouding her over in a haze thick enough to chew on, Oh, the things to be felt, Yelena—and what a horrible fucking time to be feeling them.

“You won't always be able to depend on your powers, Bob,” she said this so quietly she was afraid he hadn’t heard.

“They’re designed to be dependable.”

“Everything in this building is designed to be dependable until it isn’t. When people are able to do the things you can do, relying on anything is conditional.” He was still so close. How was he still so close. “Trust me.”

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “But, I just—I need these powers to be dependable, because if they’re not…” he trailed off. She didn't want him to finish that sentence. 

Whatever spell had pinned her to the mat, unpinned her. She released him. As if on cue, everything inside of her lost its balance.

“Because if they’re not, you’ll be left with a shit right hook.” She cut him off before he said something stupid he couldn’t take back, and rolled out from under him. “Get up. We’ll take a break in a bit.”

She wanted to say more but stopped when the gym came back into focus. The dumbbells weren’t where they were supposed to be, nor were the keg rings or the weapons on the racks. Her eyes tracked as half the room floated in the air, spinning in slow circles like comets.

“Bob—”

“It’s okay,” he said, and then he said it again, and before Yelena could protest, her body loosened itself from the ground.

She never expected weightlessness to devastate her.

“I wanted to tell you. But it just never...I don’t know, it just—” He shook his head. “I’ve been able to do a lot since you guys left for Svalbard.”

“That’s a long time, Bob.” Trying not to panic, she bobbed upside-down, before a warm invisible pressure tipped her upright and kept her steady.

“I know," he said. 

Was he devastated too?

In another version of this very moment, Yelena might’ve cackled with her head tipped back. She might've let Bob pinwheel her between floating barbells and training dummies until her head bonked against the ceiling. She might’ve told him to show her more, show her everything. 

In this version though, she stared at Bob rooted in the center of the gym like a planet around which everything spun. And when he rose, slowly, slowly, she thought he looked nothing like that day; lit from above, he fit into his body in ways she’d never seen before.

The benevolent titan carrying the world in his orbit. 

“Sometimes it almost feels like it did back then," he said, and she didn't like the way it sounded. 

“Does Valentina know?”

Bob's eyes flicked to something behind her shoulder, but Yelena was too busy trying to keep her balance to check what it was. “I’m not worried about her,” he said. A breath, then, “This doesn't change anything.”

“It’s already changing."

He was floating above her now, power rippling all around, his hair and clothes flowing in a tide she couldn’t feel but wanted to so frantically the wanting of it surged through her, from top to bottom, and how she could’ve arched towards him then, her body like a pebble knocked loose in a current.

Two weeks she’d spent in a frozen tundra, obsessed with the thought of Bob safely tucked away in a glass box, endlessly looking forward to returning to him.

How had Natasha done this? Any of this? Had she expected the people she cared about most to stay put if she'd just expected it hard enough? Did she have someone back then? And did she expect that someone to always be the thing waiting for her in the tower, waiting to be returned to. Had she wanted to stand between them and life itself? Breakable bones and woundable flesh and fickle mortal weaponry and all?

How did you live like this? 

Yelena tossed that question onto the pile of other questions she’d never get to ask her sister.

Staring up at Bob, his powers lowering her gently to the ground, she thought of the first time she’d ever seen him fall from the sky. A solar flare over Utah. She thought of his aunt. She thought of that movie with David Bowie. 

Robert Reynolds wasn’t Sentry, he wasn’t the Void—but he had been. It was only a matter of time until he would be again.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Lost and found

[ SERIES, Part 3 ] [ Part 1 here ] [ Twisted Wonderland ]

× Previous part - The incident

× Next part is coming soon

⚠️ Posible disturbing description of blot in the body at the end, please continue with precaution

I almost drop completely this story because of my insecurities and anxiety but im already too invested on this thing, those three nights without sleep have to be payed by finishing this story!!! 🫵🏼 (thanks Sponge bob because one of the songs make me feel distracted enough to calm down and come back) if anyone would like to share their thoughts about the story with Moonie please do!

There are some vague parts where i don't mention names, yeah its so you can fill that empty space with your comfort character!

Somehow the whole investigation have ended up being leaded by Ortho, and it isn't that he was complaining, you were one of his best friends, he always has a lot of fun with you, you always treats him like a normal kid, and not just that but also you have become friends with his brother! He will be forever greatful for you friendship, but, at the end, the weight of those feelings was what made him feel so preasured to find you, it feels like he is the only one capable of finding you when there is not even the smallest clue about your were abouts

Thats how he ended up here, in the Headmage's office arguing with Crowley about calling for STYX help, according to Grim the last time he saw you both were being chaised by a phantom and the concentration of blod in the forest was too high, that much concentration was equivalent to a overbloted mage that was reaching their limit, of course he was worried and scared! He was so scared about the posibility of not finding you, but Crowley wanted to keep the situation under control as much as posible, the whole school was already a mess with all the rumors and whispering in the hallways and since there was nothing confirmed about you it was just disastrous

The more time it passed the worst things got, there was too much uncertany and panic to be hold, some of your friends were already even considerating the posibility of go and try to find you themselfs, calling STYX would just make things worst, after all the last time they have to deal with STYX was not good nor discreet, but Ortho wasn't having any of that, nor anyone else, after all a whole day has being already wasted by making painfully slowly advances in the investigation

Ortho, now taking full responsability of the investigation along with Idia, he left Crowley with a warning, he would lead a rescue team, they will try their best to search for you alone but the moment he sees things simply cannot be handle by Night Raven Collage he would ask for help to STYX and will let them handle this

Ortho had asked for volunteers to try to form a rescue team, and even when things were still too uncertain there were a lot of people ready to do what they could to help, you have done so much for everyone and now it was time to do the same for you! At the end Ortho ended up accepting the help of most of the vice housewardens, one way or another they have already deal with the overbloted mage and they were stronge enough to know they would be fine (he didn't wanted to risk bringing the ones who have been overbloted before, after all no one really knew what they would find)

When everyone was ready he started leading them inside of the forest, everyone were at a considerable distance to be able to cover as much as posible but close enough so everyone else can be alerted in case of an emergency, because of the time it have already happened between Ortho and Rook managed to be able to track down where you were suppoused to be, but the more they advance the more blot were found

The atmosphere was making everyone feel more uncomfortable, they could feel their stomach twisting with anxiety but they kept going, searching for anything that could be of help, anything that would give a signal of you, between the frustration and the growing headache that everyone was starting to feel Ortho was able to catch the attention of everyone, he was constantly running scans and analizing his surroundings in an attempt to find anything that he would be of help, and finally he did it

There was a great amount of blot and some torn clothes, this was all that was left behind of the phantom that was chaising you and Grim a few days ago. The sight alone was completely anormal but with a a shaky breath Ortho run his scanner to the pile of blot in the ground and he felt the time almost stop, there it was again, heartbeats, it was incredibly weak and the space between each heartbeat was concerning but it was there, impulsively he threw himself to the pile of blot and started dig on it, not caring about anything

The rest of the group that have came with Ortho, and even Idia at the other side of the communicator, was quickly alerted when Ortho suddently screamed your name, without wasting time everyone run towards were he was, and just like he did, everyone stopped in shock at the scene before their eyes, Ortho was diging in a inmense pile of blot where part of your body was already visible, and he was trying to be as careful as posible while pulling you out of the pile with shaky hands

Ortho asked everyone to stay away, he didn't wanted anyone else to be exposed to the blot, but they didn't even finished hearing his warning when everyone run to his side and started to help, Jade, Rook and Lilia quickly tried to take away from you as much blot as posible while Ruggie and Trey were helping Ortho try to get you out of the pile. Everyone was being extra careful, even using magic was being put in doubt since the blot was too attached at your body, nothing assure that by trying to use magic against the blot wouldn't hurt you more

By the moment you were finally pulled out of the pile of blot Rook and Trey quickly tried to check on you and help you breath again, trying to don't get distracted by the amount of blot that was still attached to your body by your injuries and staining your clothes, it took a while of having to make cpr but you finally started to react again, opening your eyes for a second and gasping for air right before turning around to start cought and panting, by the way you were breathing it was sure to say that your throat was hurt

While the others were trying to somehow easy the pain and trying to ask for any information Ortho made sure to explain what just happened to Idia (who has been asking about what it is happening non stop ever since Ortho said your name), but there was no time to feel relief since you were still covered in blot, from your mouth the blot was still falling and the injuries he have managed to identify were covered in blot, this was definetly something that had to be treated by STYX

With the help of your friends you have been able to react again, your heartbeat was still too slow and you barely were able to stay councious, you could heard the voices of your friends at the distance but something was bothering you, you were trying to catch your breath and somehow understand where you were when the pain quickly overtook every sense in your body

You managed to grasp the clothes of whoever was closer, desperately trying to ask for help, scream if it was necesary, but the only thing that left from you were cries of pain, you couldn't even open your eyes anymore because of the pain, you were not only injured but covered in blot, all this time you were exposed the blot it found its way to inside of your body, and you can feel it, you weren't comfortable in your own body anymore, your body was feeling not only heavier but insanely strange, a completely new substance was all over your body, it was covering your insides, running in your veins with your blood and it hurts, it hurts so much, it was sofocating you

The adrenaline filled you with anxiety, you wanted to run away, to scratch your skin and open your flesh so you could take it out yourself but you couldn't, you were barely able to even support your own weight, your tears were falling from your eyes, mixed with blot, your attempt to ask for help was in vain because the only thing you could even mutter were cries, incomprehensible mix of words that pleaded for this pain to stop

Unlike everyone in Twisted Wonderland the blot wasn't something normal in your body, of course your body noticed the strange new substance and took no time in trying to attack it, to eliminate, but that just make it hurt more, at this point your cries of pain where so loud that in the other side of the communicator not only Idia could hear it but everyone who were close enough, and it was making everyone fear the worst all over again

You didn't even realiced when it happened, but one of the rescue team was already holding you in their arms while running back towards the school, everyone was constantly glancing towards you, almost scared that you would vanish or even perish at any instance. STYX was already called and they will came to the school at anytime, they just needed to bring you back

By the moment they managed to reach the school almost everyone was gathered close, wanting to check with their own eyes that you were fine, or at least in one piece, but there was barely enough time to see you, they only had the chance to see a small glimpse of your body from the distance before you were quickly handed over to the STYX staff, Ortho assured everyone that you would be fine, they would be able to help you no matter what, but that fell in deaf ears when the last thing they were able to heard from you before being taking away were your cries in pain

Taglist: @chloemari-e @kisses2kanao @kashasenpai

[another-lemon-tree]

How you meet them

pairing : non idol/txt x reader

notes : hiii it's my first time trying reactions/headcanons and i hope it will be okay T-T please keep in mind my first language is not english so it might have some mistakes 

Yeonjun

you meet him because your parents decide to sign you up to a dance class when you were in middle school

you never wanted to sign up for that class because you never really liked to dance

but they forced you to go so you go there

you entered that dance room and sat down in the corner of it waiting for the instructions of the professor

a lot of the people were looking at you like you were an alien...

maybe because you had a gun in your eyes saying

I WANT TO GO HOME. LEAVE ME ALONE

but one person dared to come to you since you had that face

it was Yeonjun

and he was intrigued

"Hi, I guess you are new here. I am Yeonjun."

you were taken aback by his big welcoming smile and his voice so soft for his look

but you answer him anyway by only giving your name

in the end of the dance class he asked you for your phone number and you gave it to him

after some time your parents didn't have to force you to go to your dance class because you were going by yourself

shocking right ?

but not that much because it was Yeonjun's fault if you start to like taking those dancing class

Soobin

you were on the same Discord server of your favorite streamer

to be honest the first interaction you had with each other was to insult each other on the chat of the stream

but none of you paid attention to the username so when you had your second interaction on Discord you didn't know

in fact you were yapping about your favorite character in the game

you have the same favorite character

you two were yapping so much about it that you spent the night to talk with him

the next night he finally adds you to talk with you in dm

and you talk all night one more time with him

Beomgyu

he was running without looking in front of him

you were passing by

BOOM

yeah he bumped into you in the hallway of the high school because Yeonjun was chasing him

for what? He was making fun of his hair that can stand up alone

he was feeling so awkward but he helps you stand up since he fell down on top of you

"You should watch in front of you when you run..."

you say and Beomgyu raised an eyebrow

"And you should watch in front of you when you walk. To be able to dodge someone who run for his life"

you were taken aback by his boldness followed by a cocky smile

you ended up laughing a little making him smile brighter

he looks behind him and sees Yeonjun coming closer towards him so he just shouts his name and runs away

"I AM BEOMGYU BY THE WAY"

Taehyun

it was your first year in high school and the teacher chose where each student would be seated

the teacher chooses that you will be sitting next to a certain Kang Taehyun that you didn't know before you sat next to him

at first you weren't talking a lot with Taehyun but as the months were passing you two started to talk together

first for the exercises you or he didn't understand

then because one of your forgets to do the homework and asks to copy

after it was just little talking about the weekend

and you ended up finishing high school always sitting next to him while being scolded because you were talking too much together

or because you were doing some doodles on his arm with his consent obviously

Huening Kai

he was moving into the apartment next to yours

you pass him when you go out of your own apartment and saying a polite "Hello" to him

and he gives you back a "Hello" with a bright smile

later that day when you go back to your apartment you find a little penguin plushie in front of his door so you frown but take it with you

you give a little shower to this plushie and take care of it

you even add a pink bow ribbon around the plushie's neck

you take pictures of it and print it

you go in the hall of the building to stick the picture on the wall with a note saying

I found this cute penguin plushie in the corridor. Text this number if it's yours

then the next day you had a text from an unknown number

it was Huening Kai and it was his plushie that he lost yesterday when he was moving in

you accept to meet him after 6pm to give his penguin plushie back

[maisiewriter]

Max and I have been sleeping together since November 2022. This is a long time all in one go as he is my sissy slave and I usually only let him in my bed when I have no boyfriend available. He is such a good boy and very good at licking my pussy.

He has got so used to the situation that he forgets sometimes that he is very fortunate that I haven’t met a guy to date. This has mainly been because I am so busy at work, I get home tired and not in the mood to go clubbing with my girlfriends. Week-ends are spent catching up on the week’s work and preparing for the next week. Most Saturdays I spend in my garden office, Sundays are for relaxing and catching up.

Max is at my feet as I sit in my designer kitchen and facetime my friends. He loves my stinky feet, especially on a Friday when they are in need of a wash and are hot n sweaty.

”Max, start preparing supper, please. Good boy. I think we will have the salmon with salad, ok?”

”Yes, ma’am, of course.”

Max starts his prep as I go upstairs for a shower.

When I come down I am in my short shorts with a white silky short sleeve shirt on top. Max serves supper and I allow him to eat some old brown pie in a bowl by my feet. It is his favourite as it comes from a High School in Norfolk and is prepared by the sixth form girls. I don’t like to picture how this is collected, but it smells of something brown and nasty. Max is very enthusiastic as it tastes divine to him. Two day old High School girl crap is like the best for him. At first he was not so keen, but a thorough whipping and nothing else to eat for four days convinced him to be more enthusiastic.

One of the guys at work has been flirting with me. His name is Ahmed and he is a tall, sexy alpha man. I have encouraged him and we have had coffee together in the senior staff restaurant. I have explained that I am too busy, and that I have a sissy slave husband at home. None of this has put him off, but I am playing hard to get. In the late summer the pressures will ease and I will have more time for men, and for myself.

”Max, when you have finished eating you may go out to the garden for a while, ok?

Keep out of sight and don’t be too long. Good boy.”

[lobolicious]

OUUUGHH

[slavhew]

dreaming of friends

[pose reference: Reunion by Salman Toor (2018)]

[ch1zzie]

The original in the bottom

Plus the picture I mainly drew but decided to draw the rest for funny

[disposal-blueeee]

vargas by zarla-s ,

[al-mayriti]

Noting that I went to a catholic high school in the midwestern US, I would say that between 30-40% of my classmates followed a life path similar to the following (so not even half, but still a significant amount):

1) Age 18-21: start dating someone in uni

2) Age 22/23: get a job shortly after graduation (or have one already organized, probably from a summer internship while in uni)

3) Age 22-24: get engaged to your uni bf/gf within a year of graduating, once you both have jobs basically

4) Age 23-26: wedding within a year or two of getting engaged, also buy a house if you have that kind of money lol

5) 9 months to 1 year after wedding (so 24-26 generally): baby!

I think it's important to note that this culture is able to continue because many college-educated young USAmericans are able to get a decent job very soon after graduating, which speeds up the rest of the process quite a bit. For people who are not able to get a job quickly, or who choose to do further studies, add on a few years. (And for people who don't go to uni, subtract a few!)

yeah i was gonna say, the only thing i envy of that is the getting a job so early and easy lol. i think that's also the main difference or why people aren't married so early here. in my experience (note that i went to a private upper class school so almost everyone went to university and pretty much everyone is employed right now except me lol)

1) 18-23. uni. a bunch of them were dating before uni, others during, some after, you know how it goes. and also a lot of them didn't date (like me).

2) 23-25. finishing uni, doing a master's degree, and or living abroad (usually to work).

3) 25-26. come back to spain and work here, or finished studying and got a job. they start dating seriously.

4) 26-28. if they've been dating for a while, engagement. if not, they continue the grind. if they live abroad especially which is honestly more than half of my circle rn they won't want to get engaged until they come back or decide to stay in the other country (normally their partner is from there).

5) 28-30. this is the future for me so i'm just speculating, but here is marriage + baby for those who can afford it. keep in mind most of us this age are still living with our parents so. that's another thing to have in mind.

more or less that's the idea here. you first want to have a stable job, then a stable house, and then you can start thinking about proposing and weddings and kids. and that doesn't happen soon.

[scoliosisgoblin]

doodles and some lore. I'm tired.

[immortalfornow]

today someone asked which fantasy high character i relate to the most and it was just me staring in 'quiet mixed kid raised in all white household who did all 3 years of middle school at once and loves taking things apart to tinker with them' like who do you think

[no1cutiepatootie]

your friend engagement post reminds one of my friends (she's an year older than me but still) is also planning to get engaged by end of this month or so and it felt weird like we were 15 yesterday it feels so wrong in my head she's a baby why is she thinking about marriage (to be fair the guy is super rich and they'll have an year time to officially confirm if they actually want to get married) but it feels so wrong in my head win😭😭

i was talking to aki on literally this matter in morning and she kept saying my friend is a baby whys she getting married and i know we are too young but i was sort of expecting it since she comes from an islamic family and a couple other friends got married right after school im not new to this 😭