#and I’m thinking about one of my students

[eye4katz]

I Think I Love You || Megan Skiendiel

Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x Female!Reader

Genre: fluff, high school au, grumpy!reader x sunshine!megan

Content Warning: mild language, sodani, marz (slight heh), hmm... nothing much. just fluff!!×*#**×#*!

Word Count: 3.2k

Synopsis: Following precise measurements, recipes, and rules has always been Y/N’s way of life. Love—specifically the romantic kind—is the last ingredient she wants in her already chaotic kitchen. But when someone throws a whole lot of sugar into her bowl, will she cover it up with something bitter to balance the taste? Or will she finally take a bite… and taste a cherry pie?

"Y/N! Thank you for bailing me out of the jail booth!" Sophia, the school's student body president, exclaimed as she stepped out of the booth.

The idea of the booth for the Valentine’s event actually came from Sophia herself, yet somehow, she ended up getting victimized by her own activity.

A jail booth is part of the Valentine's Day special held by the SBG—or Student Body Government—where you bring two people and "jail" them together until someone bails them out.

Sounds cute to be jailed with someone on the 14th of February, right?

Well, for Y/N, one of the senators… it wasn’t.

Y/N genuinely hated Valentine’s Day, mostly because of all the couples who made everything romantic. Hugging here, kissing there, was just wasn’t for her.

She’d never experienced being loved by someone, except by her friends and family, and she was sure she never would, not by some random stranger she met on a random ass day. That’s what she told herself, anyway.

She prioritized facts and logical explanations over feelings and emotions.

What can you say? She’s top of the class, after all.

"Bro, come on. You got trapped in your own booth." She scolded Sophia as she handed $2 to YoonChae, their junior senator, for the bail.

Sophia just laughed, holding up her wrist still cuffed from the activity. A shit-eating grin was plastered on her face like the love-drunk puppy she was.

"Come on, it was sooo worth it! Me and my crush got cuffed together for like 20 minutes!"

Y/N, the ever-bitter (and, well… logical) one, scowled. "Oh, you mean the Latina who never actually notices you in any of the activities you organize? Damn, right."

"Well, she noticed me just now." Sophia rolled her eyes, but she was clearly too giddy to care.

Y/N sighed, knowing she wouldn’t win this argument. Sophia was a debater, after all. No wonder.

"Call me if something happens again. If someone puts you in the jail booth—even if it’s with Avanzini—just tell them you’re the one organizing it, so you can’t."

Sophia murmured something, but Y/N was too drained from her job, which involved delivering love letters all over campus to even bother rebutting any further.

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Later, as the students ate lunch, Y/N and Sophia went to the student council lounge to take a break along with some other officer.

They sat at the long table—the same one where late-night meetings, prop-making sessions, and fueled debates had happened.

"It’s great to see Y/N participating in Cupid’s Day, no?" Manon, one of the senators, teased as she sipped on her lemonade.

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. "Please. I’m just here to help y’all." She plopped down beside the Swiss girl, pulling out her bento box.

"Let’s not tease her about it. She might go lovesick again," Sophia added while sliding into the seat beside Y/N.

Now Y/N was trapped between two yappers.

"Lovesick isn’t even a thing! You can’t get sick from friendship and stuff!" Y/N shot back, her voice tinged with playful annoyance.

That earned a good laugh from Sophia and Manon. Y/N’s face twisted into a playful scowl as her friends kept teasing her.

She huffed, trying to defend her point. "It’s not even a disease! What’s the diagnosis then—?"

"Bruh, come on!"

"Girl, you don’t need to be scientific about everything!"

Knowing Y/N, she got easily triggered by stuff that wasn’t logically correct. "Oh, whatever. Believe your delulu stuff, but don’t force me to listen to your yap."

Sophia and Manon just grinned. They both knew Y/N didn’t like nonsense talk, especially not from the Swiss senator who was overly talkative. But they also knew Y/N had a soft spot for them, so she was stuck listening anyway.

Before Y/N could prepare her next attack, Lara, another yapper of the governmen. stormed in. She left the door slightly ajar.

"Job done, bitches!" she announced, slamming down the tip box filled with cash from the Valentine’s booth.

Y/N sighed. Her patience was being tested, but she still loved these people anyway.

"Oh, by the way, I brought two people with me," Lara added casually.

Two heads peeked from behind the door. Two girls, shy and hesitant to come in.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, and Sophia and Manon exchanged confused looks. Their lounge was supposed to be exclusive for the student government officers.

"Why would you do that?" Y/N asked, her annoyance already stacking up.

"Well, I couldn’t just leave them alone!" Lara shrugged.

Poor Lara. She just couldn’t leave the girls—who, by the way, she’d only just met at the booth.

The Indian senator gestured for them to come in and get comfortable in the lounge.

"You can’t just let random students go in he—" Y/N started, but she was cut off by Sophia, who had just noticed her crush among the random students peeking inside.

"Hey! Come on, you can eat with us!" the president beamed, her shit-eating grin back in full force.

A curly-haired girl and a ginger stepped into the lounge, still adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings as they looked around.

Y/N scoffed at the unprofessional invitation, which only made the other senators snicker.

"The president already invited them. No more arguments can be used." Manon shrugged, flashing a grin.

Y/N just rolled her eyes, annoyed by the broken rules. She was so triggered she couldn’t even look at the two girls invading her so-called sanctuary.

She hated rule-breakers.

Lara helped the girls find seats. The blonde sat across from Sophia, the ginger across from Y/N, and Lara herself sat across from Manon.

They all started settling their lunches onto the table.

Sophia introduced herself to the girls, as if she wasn’t already campus-famous.

"I’m Sophia!" she said, reaching out her hand, well, specifically to Daniela.

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed, as she looked away. "Girl... she already knows you," she muttered under her breath, already getting an allergic reaction to how Sophia acted like a puppy around the fierce Latina.

Daniela side-eyed Sophia but reluctantly shook her hand. "Hey, I’m Daniela Avanzini."

Even if Daniela’s face looked like she wanted to bite someone, Sophia could still see the dimples poking out as their hands met.

That just made the Filipina smile even more cheesily.

The ginger finally spoke out, waving both of her hands to the senators and the president.

"Hi! I'm Megan Skiendiel!"

Her smile came with whisker dimples that just added to her charm.

Manon and Megan continued to converse with each other, while Sophia was still busy admiring her favorite student—which, by the way, was Daniela. (simp alert!)

Y/N didn’t know what came over her, but she finally decided to look up at Megan as soon as she heard her voice. She could feel the ginger's energy radiating just by sitting across from her. Y/N’s thoughts ran a million miles away from the room, seeing things she shouldn’t, or mustn't, see.

What?

Vegan? Oh! Megan.

She… has whisker dimples.

This feels weird. It's irritating.

Ugh!

Maybe I feel this way 'cause she has bad energy.

Right, bad energ—

Y/N’s attention snapped back to reality when Manon clapped in front of her face.

"Stop intimidating Megan, you bitter bitch!" she exclaimed.

Megan, who was watching the whole interaction, chuckled to herself; though she couldn’t help but admit she was a little intimidated by the sudden glare, zone-out, or whatever Y/N just did.

Y/N just shook her head, looking away almost immediately.

She swore she saw pink swirls around Megan!

Pink swirls = bad energy. She mentally noted.

After a few chit-chats here and there, they finally finished their food. Thank the school for making lunch last until 2:00 PM.

"Bae, where’s the cherry pie you always bring?" Lara asked Y/N.

It’s a cute inside joke the officers had together—to tease the bitter senator who secretly had a sweet tooth for cherries.

Y/N’s cheeks matched the color of the cherries she always brought with her.

She was known within the student government for always bringing cherry pies, and she was too shy for that information to be revealed in front of the students who trusted her to be in a senatorial position.

Megan noticed her fuming cheeks, making her chuckle softly as she watched the senator reach for her lunch bag, glaring at Lara for even bringing that matter up.

"I apologize for the current action you’re seeing with our senator here," Sophia added, making Manon snicker.

Her glare shifted to Sophia as she placed the pie in the center of the table. This just made the five of them laugh.

The girls also found it funny how Y/N's walls were so high that no one could ever reach or jump over them. Well... maybe her co-senators could, but Y/N won’t admit that!

Thank goodness the two outsiders were there.

If they weren’t, Y/N would’ve scolded Lara and Sophia, and her voice would’ve been the only thing heard in the room except for the cackles of her co-officers.

Manon tried to make Y/N feel a little better.

"Just so you guys know, Y/N is actually a good baker. Her favorite is cherry pie, that’s why she always shares it with us."

Y/N sighed, finally feeling secure.

"I love cherry pies too," Megan unexpectedly replied.

The girl in front of her was still bitter that the rules were bent just for them (maybe because she also saw pink swirls around the ginger), so she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath,

"I didn’t ask."

Sophia, the observant one, couldn’t help but hear Y/N’s mumble. She pinched Y/N’s inner thigh tightly like an Asian mom would.

The girl being pinched let out a yelp, slapping Sophia’s hand away.

"Ouch!!! Stop it!!"

"Then better behave!"

Megan watched their interactions as the other girls reached out for the cherry pie.

It was so amusing how Y/N could behave with a single pinch from her Filipina mom.

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Lunch break was finally over, so that meant Y/N went back to her awesome and exciting job.

Yay….!!!!!

Y/N went to the DIY mailbox the officers had made weeks before Valentine’s Day to get the newly inserted letters.

Hours passed by, and there were only two left in her messenger bag. She looked down, checking who the next letter was for.

To: Senator Y/N

Her eyebrows furrowed, confused by the unexpected letter that had landed in her bag. She gathered enough courage to open it, only to be greeted by a message that said:

"cherry pies are the best, aren’t they? -🍒"

Y/N was taken aback by that.

She looked around, paranoid that other people—besides her co-officers and the two strangers she met—might know her sweet tooth secret.

As an overthinker, she was scared that this info would be used against her.

Petty, right?

So instead of stressing over it, Y/N just brushed it off.

Y/N, of course, found these letters written on sticky notes weird since she always got them after class or after hanging out with the gang.

Eventually, she soon found these things cute—not because she thought the sender was some desperate puppy going after their loml—but because it was the effort and the thought that counted.

She still hates romantic shit, btw!

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After the 14th of February, the two new girls always hung out with the four senators for the following weeks.

Dani and Sophia might be a thing.

Lara and Manon miiiight also be a thing.

Y/N still hated Megan’s guts.

And YoonChae... was still YoonChae.

Y/N would always glare at Megan whenever they made eye contact during functions.

She just hated how mesmerizing her fucking smile was!!

She always wanted the ginger to feel not included, always moving away whenever the other one came near.

Megan was an introvert, yet a talkative one.

She fits right in with the gang, always opening up topics about her niche interests and random stuff.

But when Y/N kept pushing her away, it made the ginger feel disappointed.

The bitter senator still received random sweet messages from ‘🍒’.

The sender was consistent, giving the notes at the same time: every morning at 8 AM, before class at 1 PM, and after school at 5 PM.

Some examples of the letters she received were:

don’t forget to smile, miss maem. -🍒

do u like ginger kitties? cuz i have one -🍒

i think u would rock your bangs when they’re dyed pink -🍒

Another event was being held by the student government on campus, and it was a busy day for the officers. They needed to make sure the fair went well and also give people some relief from their midterm break.

This was just another exhausting day for the officers—especially for Y/N. But not until she realized that she hadn’t received her morning note yet.

It’s not like she was expecting it… right?

She wasn’t into romantic stuff in the first place.

Maybe she was just annoyed because of the change.

She despised change.

The sun continued to do its daily cycle, leaving the officers even busier.

And well… Y/N got more frustrated—about the note? Perhaps.

Second note: still none.

It was already past 1 PM.

This made Y/N moodier than usual, especially because of the exhaustion from organizing the event and the sudden break in her routine.

Things were already getting inside her head. Each complaint or order from her schoolmates made her more irritated.

Is the letter the main cause of her irritation, though?

Y/N couldn’t handle it anymore.

She didn’t want to just burst out and walk away from her tasks just because her feelings got in the way.

Instead, she finished all of her responsibilities first before subtly disappearing from the world—maybe trying to run away from the agitation.

She dragged her feet to the nearest, peaceful, and quiet bathroom.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sat on the closed toilet, her head pressed into her hands.

She didn’t even know why she felt heavy and suddenly so emotional.

Ahh. Typical Y/N.

Her disappearance wouldn’t even be noticed by people around her since she was the quiet and reserved one, well, at least that’s what she thought.

A knock suddenly echoed on her bathroom stall door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Y/N…?"

The senator’s ears perked up. Maybe it was just a random student asking about the event or some shit.

She cleared her throat before replying,

"Yeah? This stall is taken."

The person on the other side hummed, waiting for Y/N to get out.

Y/N hated when people waited for her. Being a people pleaser was kind of her thing.

She quickly wiped any visible tears from her eyes. She already had an excuse prepared if they noticed the redness.

Allergies, Y/N thought.

The stall door swung open, revealing a tall ginger woman leaning her back against the sink.

Y/N never expected that, out of all people, Megan would be the one asking questions about the damn event.

"What do you want." She said flatly, as if she hadn’t just spent minutes crying.

Megan gulped. She didn’t know what to say or how to act. "Are you okay…? I saw the way you’re more irritated than usual." She blurted out.

Y/N was wrong.

Very wrong.

Someone did notice her disappearance, someone even noticed her mannerisms.

And that person was Megan.

Megan always looked out for Y/N, even if she was being mean (and annoyingly pessimistic) to her.

The senator cleared her throat, trying to shrug off the vulnerability.

"I’m fine."

"You don’t look fine."

"Just allergies. And maybe a migraine. Some stupid people decided to complain about the event, and I’ve been handling shit the whole day."

Y/N yapped consecutively—so unusual of her.

Megan could see right through her. What do you expect from a geek who loves psychology?

She hadn’t even asked yet, but Y/N was already giving excuses. Some might be false, Megan knew.

"I’m actually the one giving you the letters." The ginger suddenly confessed, cutting off Y/N’s rambling. She figured that maybe not giving the notes was the actual root of the senator’s grumpiness.

Well, Y/N was always grumpy.

But today?

She was extra grumpy.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she gently pushed Megan. "The fuck?! The one giving me cheesy stupid letters?!"

She thought it was stupid… but it was also kind of cute. Not that Y/N would admit that.

Megan nodded, nervous that she’d just blurted it out.

Y/N calmed down a bit.

She didn’t want to be rude, not right now. Not in this situation.

"Why… are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought it’s the actual cause of your frustration." It actually was.

"I- wha-" She couldn’t even form coherent words because, well… maybe it was true.

"I stopped giving you letters because I thought you hated it."

Y/N frowned, her usual high walls starting to crumble. "No, I don’t."

Megan’s ears perked up, like a puppy hearing the word walk. "You don’t?"

A grin crept up on the ginger’s face—the sight made Y/N look away as her cheeks betrayed her, turning a soft shade of red.

"Yes, I don’t. Now shut up."

Megan’s giggles echoed in the room, teasing Y/N for her flustered response.

"So… am I actually the reason for your extra grumpiness?"

"Yes." Y/N whispered, walking closer to her.

She finally found the courage to look up into Megan’s eyes.

Tears started to roll down again, seeing how much she could be vulnerable whenever she's with Megan.

The main reason for her frustration was solved, but the burnout and exhaustion were still there.

Megan scooped Y/N’s face in her hands as the girl leaned into her body.

"Let it all out. I’m right here, all ears if you ever want to rant."

The senator let her feelings pour out. Words were too complicated for the exhaustion she always buried.

After a couple of minutes, Y/N finally calmed down. Thanks to Megan—who somehow knew how to tame the brat that was actually so soft inside.

"I never actually meant to be too rude to you."

Y/N confessed, much like how Megan had earlier.

She knew she was direct, maybe even mean sometimes, but she didn’t want to be extra rude to Megan.

"I just… felt an unexplainable pang in my heart when I saw you the first time. It’s inevitable. That’s why I kept pushing you away. I'm... sorry."

Megan understood her side, watching every move and expression she made.

"A ray of sunshine might be too much for a cloud of rain. I understand. You don’t need to apologize for something that’s not your fault." Her voice was tender, making Y/N’s heart soften even more.

It was basically as soft as a pillow now.

She couldn’t think anymore, not with her guard down and her vulnerability resurfacing.

"Fuck it."

Y/N leaned in, pressing her lips against Megan’s. Their lips were soft, moving slowly and gently—speaking the secret language of intimacy. The world fell into silence the moment they kissed.

Minutes later, they finally pulled away.

"I think I love you…"

Y/N muttered, seeing all the pink swirls around Megan all over again.

"I love you too, Y/N." Megan whispered, pressing her forehead against hers.

The ginger spoke again just to tease Y/N, knowing how much the senator was secretly a sucker for her.

"Can you keep a secret? I’m a little shy."

"Mhm… yeah?"

"You taste like cherry pie."

[tobiosbbyghorl]

can you make badboy! sunghoon x student council! reader. But sunghoon is so downbad for reader. But reader too tired off sunghoon demeanour who always break the rules qnd skipping the class

bad boy gone good? downbad | psh

You’ve had a long day. First, the cafeteria ran out of iced coffee. Then, Jungwon forgot his speech for the assembly and winged it with a rap about school spirit. And now? Now you’re climbing the stairs to the school rooftop because—according to an anonymous tip—Park Sunghoon is up there skipping class. Again.

You shove the heavy door open.

And there he is. Lying flat on his back in the middle of the rooftop. Sunglasses on. Earbuds in. Hoodie pulled up like he’s sunbathing at a resort instead of, you know—committing his sixth violation of the week.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

No response.

You say his name again, louder this time.

He pulls one earbud out and tilts his head toward you like he’s just been disturbed mid-dream.

“Wow,” he says, voice sleep-rough and amused. “You came.”

“I’m not your girlfriend. I’m your disciplinary officer.”

“Semantics.”

You glare. “You’re skipping calculus.”

He sits up and stretches, smirking. “You’re here, I’m here—maybe I just wanted some alone time with you.”

“On a roof?”

“I like the view.”

You fold your arms. “That’s a safety violation. And so is being up here. This area is off-limits.”

“I could say the same about you,” he says with a grin. “Totally off-limits. But I keep ending up here anyway.”

You blink. “Did you just… flirt with me while breaking three school rules?”

“Technically four, but who’s counting?”

“I am.”

He chuckles and pats the concrete beside him. “You know, you never sit. Always standing over me, scolding me like I’m your personal side quest.”

“Because I am this close to losing my mind.”

“You look cute when you’re mad.”

“You look unemployed if you don’t start showing up to class.”

That makes him laugh. He stands, brushing imaginary dust off his pants, and walks over. He’s close now—close enough you have to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You think I’m a slacker,” he says. “And I am. But only because this school’s boring. Except you.”

You deadpan. “Wow. I’m honored to be the lone source of entertainment for a delinquent.”

“Not just entertainment,” he murmurs. “I like you. Like, a lot. Like, wake-up-early-to-watch-you-scold-other-people kind of like.”

You frown. “That’s creepy.”

He nods. “Yeah. But at least I’m honest.”

Silence.

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll go back to class. But only if you walk me.”

You blink. “What am I, your parole officer?”

“No,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his. “You’re worse. You’re the girl I’m head over heels for who refuses to give me a damn chance.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the heat crawling up your neck.

“Get downstairs, Park.”

He grins, following behind you like a happy golden retriever in ripped jeans.

“Lead the way, Madam President.”

You don’t expect to see Park Sunghoon walk into the classroom.

No, seriously—you don’t. Not because it’s rare. Because it’s unheard of. You almost drop your pen when he saunters in like he belongs here, hands in pockets, hair messy in a way that’s somehow both illegal and school appropriate, and—wait—is that a notebook?

You narrow your eyes. He slides into the seat directly beside you.

“Reserved for model students only,” you mutter.

“I’m turning a new leaf,” he says brightly. “Consider me… reformed.”

You blink. “You’re twenty minutes early.”

“I know. I had to Google what time class starts.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s wearing his uniform. Properly. Tie and all. You don’t know what’s more suspicious—his punctuality or the fact that his shirt is actually tucked in.

The teacher walks in. The students quiet down.

And for once, so does Sunghoon.

For maybe five minutes.

Until he opens his notebook—and you realize it’s upside down.

You sigh. “Sunghoon…”

“Huh?” He glances down. “Oh, that explains why I couldn’t find the lines.”

You grab his notebook, flip it the right way, and shove it back into his lap.

He beams. “Thanks, baby—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

He holds up his hands in surrender.

But then: the teacher asks a question.

No one answers.

Except one hand goes up.

His.

Your eyes practically pop out of your head.

“Yes… Sunghoon?” the teacher says cautiously.

Sunghoon clears his throat and says with the confidence of a man who has no idea what’s going on:

“Uh… mitochondria.”

The teacher blinks. “We’re doing algebra.”

“Oh.”

Sunghoon scratches the back of his neck, leaning toward you. “That’s not the energy thing, huh?”

You slap your hand over your face.

Ten more minutes go by. He tries, you’ll give him that. But halfway through the lecture, he’s doodling your initials in the corner of his notebook and poking your elbow to show you, grinning like he just painted the Sistine Chapel.

You hiss, “Why are you here?”

He leans in, voice soft and smug. “Because you said you were tired of me skipping. So I came. For you.”

Your heart does a somersault.

But your voice stays flat. “You failed the mitochondria test two years ago.”

“I might’ve failed that,” he murmurs. “But I’m acing this… proximity.”

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

You flick his forehead.

Hard.

“OW!”

The teacher turns.

“Park Sunghoon,” she says sharply. “Do we have a problem?”

He grins, rubbing his forehead. “Nope. Just enlightenment.”

You exhale and bury your face in your hands. “This is the stupidest love confession I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean best.” He slides a note onto your desk. Inside is one word:

“Yours?”

You write underneath:

“Go to detention.”

“See you there.” He winks.

It’s almost 9 PM. The school is quiet, empty except for the faint buzz of the vending machine and the distant creak of old hallway lights.

You’re still in the council room, surrounded by ungraded forms, event flyers, and the aftermath of a failed attempt to plan the upcoming school festival. Your back aches, your brain is fried, and worst of all—your team bailed hours ago.

You mutter to yourself as you staple yet another flyer. “I swear, next time I’m making attendance mandatory…”

The door creaks.

You don’t look up.

“If you’re here to ask me to approve your stupid rooftop concert idea again, Park, I swear—”

“It’s not stupid,” comes his voice. “It was just ahead of its time.”

You sigh. “What are you doing here? It’s past curfew.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping fully into the room. “You’re still here doing… paper stuff?”

“It’s called work.”

“Right.” He nods, like he’s just learning what the concept is. “Well. You look like you’re about five minutes away from passing out and becoming one with that desk.”

“I might.”

He walks up slowly, looking at the mess of papers and tape and glitter glue. “You’re really doing all this alone?”

“Everyone else left. The festival won’t plan itself.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second.

Then he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and grabs a stack of papers.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“You don’t… help.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I do now.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Do you even know what to do?”

“Nope,” he grins. “But you’ll tell me. Like you always do.”

You should say no. You should tell him to leave before the teacher on night duty sees. But your arms are sore, your eyes are burning, and—God, he looks really good with his sleeves rolled up and a serious expression.

So you sigh. “Fine. Start by sorting those into three piles: food booths, stage events, and athletic games. If you mess it up, I’m making you redo the whole thing.”

He salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.

Thirty Minutes Later

You glance up from your laptop and blink. He’s… actually doing it. Properly. He’s even labeling the piles in his messy but oddly neat handwriting.

“You’re… shockingly competent at this.”

Sunghoon leans back in the chair, hands behind his head. “Didn’t think the bad boy could handle papers, huh?”

“I didn’t think you could handle sitting still for more than five minutes.”

He chuckles, quiet and sincere.

There’s a moment. A soft one. No smirks, no teasing.

Just him. Watching you.

“Why do you do all this?” he asks. “Like, really. No one gives you awards for staying late or breaking your back for some school festival.”

You shrug. “Because if I don’t, no one else will. Someone has to care.”

He looks at you like he’s never seen you before. Or maybe like he’s been seeing you the whole time, but now it actually hurts a little.

“That’s kinda hot.”

You groan. “There it is. You lasted so long without saying something dumb.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I tried.”

He stands and grabs a couple more flyers. “You know, if you ever let someone help you more often, maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“I don’t trust most people to get it right.”

He walks closer, sets the flyers down, and looks you in the eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

You pause.

And for the first time—you don’t have an immediate answer.

You’re both packing up now. The clock reads 10:14 PM.

Sunghoon carries the extra flyers under his arm, and you’re holding your schoolbag like a shield, not because you need it—but because you’re nervous.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says casually.

You glance at him. “You don’t even live in my direction.”

“Sure I do,” he lies. “I live wherever you’re headed tonight.”

“Sunghoon.”

He just shrugs, already matching your pace as you exit the school grounds. “Relax. I won’t flirt. I already impressed you once tonight. Don’t want to ruin my streak.”

You almost smile.

The streets are quiet. Just the faint hum of traffic and the soft sound of your steps echoing through the evening air.

“I didn’t expect you to help,” you say after a while, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to need it.”

You nod slowly. “I guess… I don’t let myself need people.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything right away.

Then, softly: “That’s exhausting.”

You look at him.

He’s not smiling. He’s not teasing. He’s just… looking forward. Like it took everything in him to say that out loud.

“It is,” you admit.

You reach a small corner shop closed for the night. The streetlamp flickers above you. You stop walking.

“You’re not what I expected either,” you say.

His head turns to you slowly. “Good or bad?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He chuckles, but it’s quieter now. “I know I’m not the kind of guy who fits into your world. Student council. Rules. Schedules. Everything in place.”

You exhale. “You break every rule I write.”

He tilts his head. “But I always read them.”

You glance at him. “That’s… actually weirdly sweet.”

“You’re weirdly sweet.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, a quiet smile on your face. “You always joke. Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Yeah,” he says, and this time, no smile. “But if I stop joking, I might say something serious. And that’s scary.”

You blink. “Like what?”

He looks at you.

And this time—no teasing. No sarcasm. Just raw honesty.

“Like I’d drop every detention slip, every missed class, every stupid rooftop escape… if it meant you’d look at me like I’m someone worth your time.”

Your breath catches.

You open your mouth. No words come out.

The air between you shifts. Charged.

And for the first time—you step forward.

You fix the collar of his hoodie without thinking, hand brushing his neck. He doesn’t move. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, unsure of what you want to say.

“I’m not asking for much,” he murmurs. “Just… let me stay close.”

You swallow.

And then the porch light flickers on from your house up ahead.

You step back.

The moment breaks like glass.

“I should go,” you say.

He nods. “Right.”

But as you turn, he calls out softly, “Hey.”

You glance back.

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for letting me help.”

You offer a small smile.

“Thanks for showing me you could.”

You disappear inside before he can say anything else.

He stays there for a long moment, hands in his pockets, watching your light flick on upstairs.

Then, with the faintest smile, he turns and walks the long way home.

The festival is in full swing. Laughter fills the air. Lights twinkle above the courtyard like stars trying to outshine each other. Booths line the school field, filled with games, food, and an alarming number of students running around in cosplay.

You’re juggling three clipboards and two walkie-talkies, moving between booths with military precision. It’s exhausting.

But not chaotic.

Because—for the first time—everything is actually running smoothly.

You round the corner near the dunk tank when you stop in your tracks.

Park Sunghoon is there.

Not ditching. Not distracting. Not doing something stupid.

He’s manning the ring toss booth.

Wearing a volunteer sash.

Smiling at kids.

Not even flirting.

You stare at him like he’s grown a second head.

He catches your eye, waves dramatically, then mouths: “See? Reformed.”

You roll your eyes—but your lips tug upward, just a little.

Later That Evening

The festival winds down. Fireworks are minutes away. You’re at the back lawn, organizing the final event schedule when you hear footsteps behind you.

You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him.

“Didn’t expect you to survive this long without causing a scene,” you say.

He leans beside you against the railing. “Shocked myself, honestly.”

You glance at him. His hair’s messy from the wind. There’s glitter stuck to his cheek from the art booth. He looks… happy.

“So what happened?” you ask softly. “What changed?”

He shrugs. “You did.”

You pause.

“That night I helped you,” he continues, “you looked so tired. Like the world was on your shoulders. And still, you didn’t ask for help. You never do. So I figured… maybe if I stuck around long enough, you’d stop pushing me away.”

You don’t respond.

Because your heart is doing things. Things you’re not ready to name.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper.

But he keeps going, voice lower now. “I didn’t try to fit into your world just for fun. I did it because I wanted to deserve to stand next to you.”

You finally look at him. “You don’t have to be someone else to do that.”

“Maybe not,” he says, smiling softly. “But I wanted to be the version of me that made you proud.

The fireworks start then.

Booms echo in the night sky. Color bursts across your faces—red, blue, gold.

And you—you finally let go.

You reach for his hand.

He looks down.

You’re holding it. Intertwined fingers. No clipboard. No conditions.

Just you.

“You already make me proud,” you say.

His breath catches. “That almost sounded like a confession.”

You smirk. “It almost was.”

He grins. “So if I kissed you right now…”

You raise a brow. “You’d be breaking school rules.”

He leans in, just enough for your foreheads to touch. “Worth it.”

And under the gold glow of the fireworks, you let him.

Just once.

A soft, careful kiss.

No sarcasm. No teasing. Just everything you’ve both been holding back—finally, finally spilling over.

i hope you liked it!

TOBIOSBBYGHORL 2025

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona- huh @ramenoil

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ bob reynolds x reader

music teacher!bob x english teacher!reader

summary: bob meets the new english teacher two classrooms down from his, and he’s instantly smitten.

warnings: this fic is set on my pb&jj universe, but it can be read as it's own series too. fem!reader. tried my best to avoid any specific descriptions. it’s my first time writing reader fic, so please be gracious. english is not my first language. please don't copy or repost anywhere.

It’s funny, the way people can wake up one day and not realise their life is about to change. Scary, sure, but also a gift. That everyday can bring something new.

It’s one of these days for Bob.

He’s cleaning his desk after his last class of the day – his kindergarten class, the youngest he’s ever taught – when one of the janitors knocks on the door.

“Mr. Reynolds? Am I interrupting?”

“Uh? Oh, Clark, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. No, no, do you need something?”

“Not me, the new English teacher two doors down. She needed some of those colourful cardboards you asked from me earlier, if there’s still any left for her.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m just wrapping things up here, I’ll stop by her class when I leave.”

The janitor just nodded and quietly left, leaving Bob to his papers and cardboards. He needed some to decorate the class for the year, and assumed the new teacher was doing the same now. He quickly grabbed his things, shoved what he could on his courier bag and left, planning to drop by the cardboards and go straight home.

He wasn’t expecting to be welcomed by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

“You must be Mr. Reynolds!”, you offer him a big smile, opening the door and giving him the space to walk into the classroom. “Clark told me you’d come. Would you like to come in?”

Bob must be silent for a moment too long. Enough for you to look back as you walk to your desk. “You okay, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Bob. You can–” He cleans his suddenly very dry throat. “You can just call me Bob. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He walks in, leaving the door slightly open. You give him a shy smile, offering you his name. Bob can feel your name dancing on the tip of his tongue. It’s a weird imagery, but it’s also a weird feeling, he thinks.

“Um, I- I brought you the cardboard papers…” He offers you the papers folded in cylinders, and you gleefully take it, practically hugging them.

“Oh, thank you!” You beam at him. “Principal Barnes didn’t say anything about us decorating our classes. I had to find out cause Mr. Clark asked me about it this morning.”

“My students were the ones to call me out on it.” Bob said, chuckling. He glanced around the room, realising the whole class was covered in posters with historical figures — famous writers, he assumes. In the back of the class, a huge carpet and four different shelves, forming a L shaped mini library.

“I think the place looks great.” He says, looking back at you. Your smile grows quickly, excitement slithering in, and he takes it as an opportunity to talk some more. “Are those books from the school library?”

“Most of them, yeah. The kids can take them home if they want to. Some are from my personal collection, though.”

“You’re not afraid of the kids borrowing them too?”

“As long as they come back to me in one piece, I’m good.” You grin, and Bob gives a temptive step toward the library.

“May I check the books?”

You nod, and Bob walks the distance to the first shelf, sitting on the burgundy carpet.

“These are all from the library.” Your hand traveled through the surface of three of the shelves. He followed with his eyes, avoiding the fact that you’re now closer than before. “There’s multiple copies of the same books cause we’ll be using most of these, so it’s good we have spare copies. Teenagers tend to be quite forgetful, in my experience.”

Bob chuckles, silently nodding and agreeing. You smile at him before moving over to the fourth shelf, “And those are my babies.”

He looks carefully, his eyes scanning your personal collection. He doesn’t recognise some of the authors, but knows a few of them. Something else gets his attention. He pulls a red hardcover from the shelf.

“You have six copies of Little Women?”

He can see your eyes looking down, avoiding his out of embarrassment.

“Uh, seven, actually... I left my favourite at home.”

“I haven’t read it yet.” He says, his fingers touching the golden lettering carved on it before starting to put it back in, when you interrupt.

“You can have it.” Your voice is slightly high pitched, and he looks at you wide eyed. “I- I mean, you can borrow it. I’d like to have it back, of course. But if you want to read it, you can take it home.”

Bob knows what it's like to feel nervous. He has never been an outgoing kid, nor an outgoing adult too. And it takes one to know one.

So when he hears that tiny hint of hesitation in your voice, he allows himself to feel hopeful that you’re just as infatuated as he is.

He smiles fondly before holding the book closer to his chest, “I’d love to, thank you.”

—

When he goes back to the impromptu library to return your book and you give him the promise that you’ll bring another one if he wants to — and god, he really, really does —, he feels like his face is tearing apart in a grin. He wonders if his roommates can see it, delight written all over his face.

Apparently, they can.

“Is this another book given to you by the new English teacher?” Joaquin says, dropping himself on the couch near Bob.

”Yeah, it is.” Bob looks at him briefly, but just enough for Joaquin to see the bashful smile on his face.

“Oh, I see what’s happening.” Joaquin gets closer to Bob, poking his cheeks. “You’re in looooveeee.” He sings-songs in Bob’s face, his face scrunching as he pushes Joaquin away.

“Get off me!” Bob uses a pillow to protect himself from any other attack. “I literally just met her!”

“But you’re soooo charmed already…”

Bob groans, “Please, shut up.”

Joaquin opts to give Bob some grace, just throwing a last jab. “So, when are we meeting her?”

“I genuinely, genuinely dread the day I’m gonna introduce anyone to you.”

And yet, in the quiet of the night, when he's still hooked in the book you offered him, addicted to the thrill of finding your notes in the margins – knowing they came from your thoughts, Bob secretly hopes one day he’ll get to introduce you to them.

notes: thank you so much for reading! this if my first time ever writing x reader fanfic, i'm so thrilled and would love to hear your thoughts on it! <3 i do think i might start a different taglist (i have one for my pb&jj series), so let me know if you're interest in joining any of them!

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | thirteen

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, banter

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 1.5k

authors note: this took me so long but I promise this next chapters are worth it and we're back in the present timeline. also go read deep end if you haven't, I'm still not over them.

12 | 13 | 14

Thursday

Before class, Rafe had seen you talking with Sarah, and he walked over to say hi. He ended up staying to talk, and when it was almost time for class, the two of you walked together and continued the conversation. As the class started, you found yourself sitting next to Rafe while the conversation continued. In any other situation, you would've quieted down, but this time it almost felt rude to do so. You didn't even remember what you were originally talking about, but lately talking to Rafe felt so easy and natural that it made you think about how much had changed since you two first met and how glad you were that it had changed. 

While Professor McKay explained something about economics in businesses, Rafe didn't stop talking, and you were far more interested in what he was going to say next than in whatever Professor King was explaining. The conversation was flowing, and you managed not to interrupt your classmates or the professor until Rafe said the stupidest thing ever, which made you laugh. In your poor attempts to keep it down, you only made it worse.

Rafe found it funny and even felt a rush of pride at being able to pull an honest to God laugh out of you. Unlike Rafe, Professor McKay was anything but amused at the two of you interrupting his lecture. 

“Ms. Y/N,  care to share what’s so funny about what I’m explaining?” You blushed as the attention was solely on you. “Or maybe Mr. Cameron can help you do so, as I see he also finds this very funny.” 

“I’m sorry, Professor McKay,” you apologized quickly

“Don’t interrupt my class, that goes for everyone,” he said in a stern voice, which made you feel like a little kid who just got scolded. At that, you gave Rafe’s foot a little kick, and he just smiled. He clearly didn’t care about what had just happened. 

“So…” he whispered.

“No…”  You whispered back to Rafe, “I don’t want to get kicked out of the class.” he just grinned, and Professor McKay gave you both another warning look. At that, you grabbed your phone to text Rafe and avoid more misunderstandings with the professor.

“Well, that was a fun class,” Rafe said with a big smirk while you just let out a noncommittal hum in response. “Oh, don’t give me that, you were laughing,” he nudged you with his elbow as you walked. 

“Yeah, in the middle of a lecture that I barely heard, and he scolded me in front of everyone.” 

“Us, he scolded us.” 

“Same thing, I don’t like the attention on me,” you said with a hint of something Rafe couldn’t decipher just yet. 

“I will take that into consideration for next time,” he said, and you chuckled softly. “There you go.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled again

—

​​After the brief conversation you had with Rafe after class, you both went your separate ways. You decided to go home, get lunch, and tidy up the living and dining rooms before he arrived. Rafe, on the other hand, went to buy food and picked up Emily from a playdate she had after school. 

Before leaving, he put on a hoodie and grabbed his things. 

“Where are you going?” Emily’s little voice broke the silence of his room. 

“I’m going to study with a friend.” 

“Topper?” 

“No, Y/N,” she scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember. 

“Who is she, Rafey?” she tilted her head to the side. 

“Remember the time you called me when I was at a party and there was a girl with me?” 

“The pretty girl!” she giggled. 

“Yes, the pretty girl,” he smiled. “She is also the one who sent the cookies last time.” 

“The heart cookies! I loved them.” 

“I know you did.” 

“You should bring more,” she said with a smile that won Rafe over every time. 

“I don’t know about that, but I will try to bring something else for you, okay, sunshine?”

After that, he kissed her on the forehead and left for your place. He arrived ten minutes earlier than you had originally told him. When you opened the door and let him in, he couldn’t stop thinking about how used to he had become to go to your house and how much he liked to spend time there. To spend time with you. You had also grown used to having him there; maybe the fake dating hadn’t been a bad idea after all; you had gained a new friend. A good friend who made you laugh, who always looked out for you, even back when the two of you were not as close as you are now. 

As you two settled in the living room, you played music to fill the silence that often accompanied your concentration on assignments. You enjoyed moments like this, music and company, while engaging in the most trivial and habitual tasks. Quality time and whatnot. His voice broke through your thoughts.  

“I made a playlist,” he said, sending you a link. “It has music we both like.”  He said as he took off the hoodie he was wearing and placed it somewhere on the couch. 

“Two hours?” You paused the song that was playing as you scrolled through the playlist. “Taylor Swift and One Direction?” You smiled.  

“You like them, don’t you?”  

“Yes, I do.” You looked at him, a smile still on your face, as if he had done the best thing ever, and he swore his heart might’ve skipped a beat. 

“Yeah, well… it’s so we can listen to something we both like.”  

“This is great,” You said, pressing play on the playlist.

As you two worked on your assignments, the playlist played in the background, and some songs distracted you, making you hum under your breath. Rafe noticed those little hums, and he smiled to himself. Another win in his books after making you laugh in the middle of class. 

“So… I wanted to ask you something.” You turned your head toward him as you heard his voice. 

“Yes?” 

“Is there a possibility that we can bake cookies or something?” he asked cautiously. You chuckled. 

“I’m not a bakery, you know?” you teased

“Oh, I know, just my sister loved your cookies and…” 

“And you can’t say no to her.” Your gaze softened at that. 

“Yeah, guilty as charged.” 

“Well, I would, but I don’t have anything to bake today. Since you started coming over more often, my ingredients last way less, and I can’t just bake on command, you know?” You gave him a look. 

“Oh, come on, not even for your boyfriend?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t pull that on me, we never said anything about baking on the rules.” 

“Well then, let’s add it,” you laughed. He had an answer on the tip of his tongue for everything you said. 

“Fine, I’ll bake whatever you want, but you buy the ingredients.” He unlocked his phone to add it to his notes. 

“Deal”

Around 6:30 PM, he started gathering his things. As much as he would have liked to stay longer, he owed Emily cookies, and she was not going to forgive him if he returned empty-handed. He left just as your parents were coming in, so he said hi and bye to them in the same breath, kissed your cheek goodbye, and left.

Friday

As soon as you received the email that your class was canceled, you left campus as quickly as possible. You had wanted to take a nap, read a book, or do anything but be in class, and this was perfect. When you got home, your phone buzzed, and plopped down on the couch to answer the texts.

After answering the texts, you didn’t want to stand up from the couch, so you scrolled through social media until you fell asleep. You woke up at 1:40 PM and decided to change and refresh your makeup before it was time to head out. When you made it to your room, you saw a hoodie that your mom had left on your bed. It was probably one she had taken out of your closet to wear and was just now giving back. Oh, the joys of having a mom who is the same size as you. 

You chose new shoes to match the hoodie and did your makeup since it got a bit smudged when you took a nap. After that, you grabbed the hoodie and put it on. It was bigger than you remembered; maybe your mom had taken it hostage a while ago, and you forgot how it looked on you. It also smelled different; had she washed it with a new soap? But then why did the smell seem familiar? 

You were about to take a picture, but the sleeves were hiding your hands, so you decided to fold them. When you folded the sleeves, it clicked. This was Rafe’s hoodie, not yours. You had one in the same color, and it was also oversized, so you couldn’t blame yourself for getting it confused. You still took the picture, and the outfit looked cute. You debated whether or not to change, but it was already late. You had to drive 20 minutes, maybe less if you drove faster.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[threetone3]

Chapter 1: Adventure Is Out There

Kang Haerin x Male OC

Words: 2.4k

What We Don’t Say: 

Everyone holds their secrets, and everyone has things they don’t share. As friendships form and feelings grow, secrets begin to unravel. And sometimes, the most complicated things aren’t what we say, but what we never do.

“You’re that hagwon girl, right?” In which Kang Haerin starts a new school after everything falls apart—and meets a bubbly Aussie girl who decides she's going to fix it all. Or at least make her watch Up.

Kang Haerin

I was a few months into my third year in high school when my dad lost his job due to taking bribes, and we had to compensate for it by relocating to a completely different district so that he could find new work. I know it sounds harsh, but thanks to him, I had to transfer to a different school in my senior year—something that might ruin my chances of getting into my dream university. But whatever. What’s done is done. 

As the day I’d been dreading approached, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The thought of starting at a new school filled me with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty, maybe just a slight twinge of anticipation as well. The conversation I had on the phone last night, with words of confirmation and reassurance from my best friend, came drifting back.

"Don't worry, you'll be completely fine there. You're Kang Haerin—straight-A student, vice president of the student council, and last year you received a record-breaking 87 confession letters on Valentine's Day, yet somehow you managed to reject every single one of them. I think you’re gonna be just fine, girl."

Ban Heesoo. Some would describe her as comic relief; the weird girl with the giggly and loud personality in class, perpetually cracking her jokes and being the only person who would laugh at them with her weird guffaws. But to me, she was my trustworthy partner in crime, the only one who understood me and the only friend I ever made. I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at her words. It was indescribable; she would say things that always managed to make me feel better about myself, but she never made any requests in return. Our relationship dynamic was almost like she was my therapist, and I was her customer who had no idea what was going on with her. But somehow it worked. 

“Thanks, but I don’t know if I can readjust to a new school and catch up on their syllabus at the same time.” I sighed into the phone, questioning whether this was even a good idea.

Heesoo’s reply came fast. “Dude, you were sick and hospitalised for almost a whole month last year and still ranked first in the finals. I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to grades. Romantic relationships, however…”

I rolled my eyes as she laughed mockingly.

“First of all, you know how my mom feels about me getting into relationships now. Secondly, every guy at our school was either a hardcore delinquent who didn’t care about studying or a complete nerd who could barely eke out a sentence in front of a girl. There’s a reason why I got 87 letters and not a single face-to-face confession.”

“Okay, counterpoint: they probably didn’t dare approach you anyway because of your stone-cold demeanour. I mean, you were basically known as the Ice Queen in school, and your stage-four terminal case of RBF might be the worst I’ve ever seen. Also, I don’t think you get to say anything about romantically uninclined nerds.”

Damn. Sometimes, Heesoo really knew how to humble me.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. But don’t expect me to show up after graduation with a boyfriend on my arm,” I grumbled.

“I’m counting on it! No boy’s gonna steal my ice-cold Kang Haerin’s heart anyway!” I could imagine her winking at her phone. 

After we said goodbye, I thought about the prospect of having a boyfriend. It was a thought that had been lingering in the back of my head for the past two or three years. Romantic relationships were a national obsession in Korea, despite the overwhelmingly stressful education system. But it was a trend I never got around to joining—probably because I never felt the need. All I focused on were my grades. Maybe that’s why I only ever made one friend in school.

As I started drifting to sleep, I found myself wishing for a different experience in my new school.

“KANG HAERIN! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

My eyes shot to the clock again, which read 7:15. Another thing I hated about my dad losing his job: the travel time. Our new house was a 35-minute walk from school with no direct bus—unless I somehow learned to ride a bike in the span of a few weeks.

As I reluctantly got up and started my morning routine, I noticed a weird uneasiness in my stomach. Even my body was physically dreading the thought of meeting new people. Curse this extremist introvert mindset.

🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈

I’d never been late for school before. I’d never missed a day without a valid reason either; it was part and parcel that came with being vice president of the student council with a reputation for keeping a perfect record. So I was already off to a bad start as I trudged toward the front gate, practically dragging myself there after an attempt (albeit a failed one) to run to school, then a Hail Mary sprint once I caught sight of the pearly gates. I glanced at the clock tower: 8:02. There goes my streak. Maybe learning to cycle wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Even just pushing through the rotating door took every last ounce of my strength. As I stepped foot on school grounds and looked around, my eyes met a pair of gorgeous brown ones, flecked with sea-green and a glint in them. 

“Are you the new transfer girl?” Ooh, thick Aussie accent.

“Yeah… Th-That’s me.” I could barely catch my breath. God, running for 30 minutes made saying three words feel like a marathon.

“Ooh, you might wanna take it easy there. You sound kinda out of breath. Don’t worry, it’s your first day, so there’s no punishment this time.”

“Punishment?” I did a double-take. She pointed to a line of about ten students at the side of the gate, where a stern-looking teacher stood holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Choi takes down the names of everyone who’s late. Every time you’re late, you get a demerit point. Ten demerits gets you the grand prize at the gift exchange: ten laps around the track.” The girl explained casually. “There’s also different offences you can get demerits for.” 

I hummed and nodded before noticing a tall student waving at her. Her eyes lit up.

“Third time this week?” she called.

“Nope, fourth. You forgot Monday—I got caught riding Bull to school,” the boy replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

I got a good look at him: natural wavy hair, parted in the middle, a bandage on his nose bridge, and what looked like an earring on his left earlobe.

“Are guys allowed to wear earrings here?” I asked.

“Nope. Guess that’s gonna be his fifth strike.” She shrugged. “But honestly, Mr. Choi’s probably given up on him by now. He’s kind of a legend for breaking the record on demerit laps.”

I raised an eyebrow. His vibe definitely fit the high school delinquent stereotype.

“Does he get into trouble often or…?”

My question made her laugh—a bright, open laugh that answered for her.

“His record was 120 laps in one term, I think.”

I would’ve been more shocked at that accomplishment, but her laugh actually took my breath away. It was only our first interaction, and already she felt like the embodiment of a guardian angel, whose mermaid voice could hum a lullaby and put an entire city to sleep.

“Oh, sorry! I completely forgot about your introductory tour. I’m Danielle. I’ll be showing you around today, helping you get settled in. What was your name again?”

“Haerin. Kang Haerin,” I said, finally managing to steady my breath — and my nerves. Spoken interaction had always been something I dreaded, but this girl’s vibrant smile somehow made it manageable. Not that I felt any kind of attraction to her, it was more like watching the sun laugh.

The vibrant smile I received in response to my introduction only further proved my point. “Well, Kang Haerin, let’s get you acquainted with the people here, you’re gonna love them.” A playful frown creased her forehead. “Well, most of them anyway. Follow me—lots of fun stuff awaits. Adventure is out there!” I blinked at her bubbly outburst. Was that a reference I wasn’t getting? 

My expression must’ve given it away, I realised, as she stared at me incredulously. “Are you just shy, or do you really not get the reference?” I didn’t know how to answer her, so I just stared blankly even more. Like I said, spoken interaction queen over here. “Charles Muntz from Up… you know, the saddest movie of all time?” She was practically praying that I would somehow magically understand. I shook my head no, prompting a reaction from Danielle where she all but lost her mind in the kindest way possible, “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s fine, I’m kidnapping you after school today. We’re gonna do an animated movie marathon and a pop quiz right after. I can’t have you not know movie references, imagine what’s gonna happen if you meet Hanni.” She looked genuinely horrified at the thought of me meeting this Hanni girl without studying movie knowledge, as if drawing a comparison to taking the CSAT on one week's notice. 

I wasn’t used to this type of interaction. Maybe only from Heesoo, but never from someone I just met. I couldn’t even sense any animosity coming from Danielle, just playful banter. She was even suggesting that I go over to her house, and she spoke as if I were already part of her life, and she was already planning to introduce me to her other friends, like this Hanni girl. A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in my stomach, as if my body was saying, “She’s nice to you. Don’t screw this up.”

Danielle, on the other hand, has seemingly already forgotten about the interaction that happened just ten seconds ago, as she now has the warmest smile ever plastered on her face. She gestured forward, leading us across the field.

The school grounds were already buzzing. Students milled about in loose clusters, bags slung lazily over their shoulders, loud laughter mixing with the occasional whistle from the PE teacher across the pitch. I followed her in silence, adjusting the strap on my shoulder, with mild stitches in my stomach as a result of my attempted run, which spoke volumes about my athletic ability or lack of it.

“That building’s the gym. You’ll probably hear Coach Baek yelling even when he’s not,” Danielle said, pointing to a tall, white dome-like structure. “And behind it is the boxing club. That’s where Jay practically lives. You’ll get used to the sound of gloves hitting pads before class ends.”

“Jay’s the one with the earring?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

Danielle nodded. “The one and only. Five-time inter-school demerit champion. Our resident ‘bad boy with a surprisingly soft centre’... probably. Don’t tell him I said that.”

I let out a quiet snort — a sound I didn’t even realise escaped.

She turned toward the main building. “You’ll spend most of your time there. Classrooms, labs, the library… and the music club, if you’re lucky.”

There was a brief pause before she added, “I’m in it, by the way—the music club. We write songs, sing, play a little. Nothing formal. Just vibes, really.”

It sounded so easy the way she said it. Like breathing. Like freedom.

We were halfway up the stairs to the building when she suddenly slowed her pace.

“Wait a sec,” she said, peering at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “What did you say your full name was again?”

I blinked. “Kang Haerin.”

Danielle’s eyes widened, then lit up with something between amusement and disbelief. “Oh my god—you’re that hagwon girl?”

I froze. Here it comes.

“Wait, wait, wait—Kang Haerin from Arae Tuition? Your mom’s that insane Korean language tutor with like three YouTube channels and test prep books in bookstores? You’re that Kang Haerin?”

The question — the way she said it—wasn’t cruel. It was just… shocked. And a little fascinated.

I pressed my lips together and nodded once. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She let out a slow whistle. “Wow. You’re kind of legendary. There was this rumour that you did six practice exams a week and scored full marks on all of them. One of my friends used to cry after watching your mock papers.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

Danielle must’ve noticed my silence, because her expression softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just… didn’t expect you to be you.”

“It’s fine,” I said automatically, even though it wasn’t.

People always had a reaction. The hagwon girl. The daughter of the ‘famous’ tutor. The perfectionist who got hospitalised from overwork and still topped the finals.

They never saw the real part. The part where I couldn’t sleep because I was too scared of letting my mom down. The part where my mom smiled at my report card like it was a business win. The part where I listened to her and my dad fight in whispers past midnight, because yelling might damage the brand. 

They just saw the name—the image. 

“Well,” Danielle said, and her voice was quieter this time, “you don’t seem like a hagwon robot. You seem… kind of cool, actually.” 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I didn’t. I just looked at her again, that wide-eyed smile and natural warmth. Something about her felt like a direct contradiction to my life. A breath of air when I’d been underwater too long. 

My phone buzzed in my blazer pocket—a message from Heesoo.

Ban Heesoo

u better not be late on ur first day, loser 🙄

also, pls try not to make everyone fall in love with u again 

or do, up to u

I laughed under my breath. 

Danielle peeked over. “Ooh, who’s that? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” 

“She’s my best friend,” I said. “Ban Heesoo.”

Danielle grinned. “She sounds fun.” 

“She is.” 

The silence that followed was easier, less loaded. Like we’d crossed an invisible line — from polite strangers to maybe, possibly not-strangers. 

“Come on,” Danielle said after a moment, tugging me toward the glass doors. “Let’s go find your homeroom. And don’t worry about the hagwon thing. This place? No one’s perfect. That’s kind of the point.” 

And for the first time that morning, I wasn’t sure if I felt dread or something else entirely. 

Please let me know what you think! I learn pretty quick and I'm open to all sorts of comments, feedback, advice, constructive criticism or compliments 😉

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Synopsis: "You swore it was just a trip — one last barkada getaway before graduation. But in between late-night Java chips, haunted hotels, and a kiss under the rain, you realize the one person you couldn’t figure out was the one you’ve been falling for all along. Now you’re driving home with memories you can’t delete, and a girl whispering, 'I’m drunk… I love you.'"

Word Count: 10,021

Kim Minjeong X Male Reader

a/n: enjoy this piece guys! I worked really hard to bump it up to 10,000 words since someone requested a messy confession scene under the rain with 10K words! I did my best to interpret what a "messy" confession under the rain could be, and I hope I did that! happy reading.

It was nearly closing time when you all spilled into the café, shoulders slouched but hearts light for the first time in months. No more thesis deadlines. No more hell weeks. No more terror profs, shifting schedules, or sleepless nights over org work and internships.

Just graduation.

Just… this.

The waiter looked at your group and sighed under his breath.

“Who meets up at 11 PM?”

But he pulled out his notepad anyway.

“What can I get for you guys?”

“We’ll all get Java Chip,” Gelo declared, like it was sacred ritual.

“Alright. Be right with you,” the waiter replied, muttering something under his breath as he turned away.

The lights buzzed faintly above your heads — that familiar soft hum that made the place feel safe. The café wasn’t full. Just one other table occupied by students probably cramming for a subject they swore they'd never retake again.

But you?

You were done.

Tobi leaned back into his seat and stretched dramatically.

“So what are we thinking? I’m saying Baguio. Cold weather, chill vibes, and oooh—strawberry taho!”

“I can dig with that,” Bea said, leaning her cheek against her palm. “Maybe we deserve a little cold after all that heat in Manila.”

Gelo turned to you.

“What about you two?”

Before you could even react, Tobi chimed in again, raising a brow with that familiar teasing tone.

“Yeah, what about you two? You act like something happened between yo—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Thud.

Gelo’s elbow found his ribs. Tobi winced and shut up, grinning like a kid caught with candy.

A pause stretched in the air, longer than it should’ve.

Minjeong didn’t look at you when she said it.

“Baguio’s fine.”

Her voice was calm, almost bored — but her fingers tapped against her cup in a rhythm only you noticed.

You nodded.

“Yeah. Cool with me.”

That was it. That was all either of you would say.

“ALRIGHT!!” Bea, Gelo, and Tobi said in unison, the awkward moment swept away by fake enthusiasm and real relief.

“I got the playlist for the whole ride!” Gelo declared, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Just make sure it’s not Kolohe Kai all the way,” you said, finally cracking a smile. “We’re going to Baguio, not La Union.”

“Bro! That’s one time!” Gelo laughed. “Okay, okay, what do y’all want then? Chill, melancholic, or like... reconciliation music?”

He bumped you gently with his elbow.

You shrugged, pretending you didn’t hear the emphasis.

“Whatever.”

The waiter returned, finally, with your drinks.

“Java Chips for the insomniacs.”

Everyone grabbed their cup, hands brushing, clinking plastic lids together.

“CHEERS TO GRADUATION!” Tobi shouted, raising his cup like a toast.

It echoed through the café — the kind of cheer that carried both joy and a bit of disbelief. You all laughed afterward. Genuinely. Loudly. It felt like letting air back into your lungs.

No more exams. No more professors calling your name in a tone that meant trouble. No more rushing to beat the 11:59.

Just this moment. This table. These people.

And her.

Across from you, Minjeong sipped her Java Chip quietly, eyes avoiding yours. But you could feel it — that same electric discomfort. Not anger. Not hatred. Something softer. Something worse.

A silence that said: We used to talk without needing words. Now you couldn’t even hold her gaze.

She glanced up for a moment — brief, sharp — like she was checking if you were still the same.

You weren’t.

Maybe she wasn’t either.

But neither of you said it.

Outside, a delivery motorcycle sped past, headlights flashing across her face for a split second. She looked tired, but free. A little sad. But beautiful, in that haunting way memories feel right before they’re gone.

This was supposed to be a night of celebration. But even here, even now, there were still things left unsaid.

The next morning started way too early for people who drank Java Chips at 11 PM.

“Why are we up?” “Did anyone even sleep?” “Did we just graduate or enlist?”

The mall buzzed with early weekend chaos — carts crashing, kids screaming, a playlist from 2016 playing on loop. Your group had split into two carts, weaving through aisles with a chaotic checklist of foods, clothes, trip essentials, and random nonsense no one actually needed.

“Toothpaste?” “Check.” “Sunblock?” “Check.” “Six different types of chips no one will finish?” “Check na check!”

You reached for a pack of hot chocolate just as someone else did.

Minjeong.

Your fingers brushed. She paused. You didn’t.

You grabbed it, tossed it in the cart, and kept walking.

“Don’t say thanks or anything,” she muttered, almost to herself.

You didn’t respond.

In the clothes section, Tobi was loudly debating whether a beanie made him look like a soft boy or a K-pop trainee.

“BOTH,” Bea said flatly.

“I’m buying it,” he grinned. “Gelo, we’re gonna be aesthetic in the strawberry farm.”

Gelo peeked from behind a stack of fleece jackets.

“We’re still not going to the strawberry farm if we’re heading to Diplomat Hotel first, bro.”

“Wha—no! Why would we go to a haunted hotel before doing something sweet and wholesome?! That’s like eating dessert then dying!”

They bickered down the aisle like old sitcom rivals while Bea rolled her eyes and grabbed a pack of face masks.

You trailed behind, pushing the cart absentmindedly. Minjeong walked ahead — not with them, not with you. Somewhere in between.

At the food court, Tobi laid down the plan on the table like it was a top-secret military operation.

“Alright. Day 1: Arrival, rest, dinner. Day 2: Diplomat Hotel, then Burnham Park. Day 3: Strawberry farm!”

“You really want us to see ghosts before we see strawberries?” Gelo complained.

“Why do you hate fun?” Tobi countered.

“Why do you want to be possessed before breakfast?” Gelo fired back.

Everyone laughed.

Except you. You were watching her again — the way Minjeong stirred her iced tea with a straw, looking everywhere but your direction.

“How about you, Minjeong?” you asked, voice low but clear.

She didn’t look at you. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t say anything.

Just kept stirring.

For a second, no one said anything.

Bea glanced between the two of you. Gelo sipped his drink a little too loudly. Tobi, bless his soul, remained oblivious.

Minjeong finally set the straw down and said flatly,

“Whatever works.”

That was it.

No fight. No drama. Just that cold wall again — the kind only old friends could build.

“Right,” you said, nodding.

You looked away, pretending the silence didn’t sting. The others quickly filled the space again with jokes and snack decisions, and the moment passed — at least for them.

But not for you.

And maybe not for her either.

Minjeong and Bea trying on scarves. You pass by, and Minjeong holds one up to her neck. You almost say she looks good. Almost.

Tobi dragging Gelo to buy matching socks. They take a selfie. Minjeong takes it for them. You’re not in the frame.

Minjeong picking out her favorite chips. You notice. She still picks the same ones from freshman year.

You double back for hot chocolate. You quietly place a second pack in the cart.

The day ends with shopping bags on the floor of someone's living room, Gelo lying face-first on a beanbag, and Tobi still arguing about how ghosts deserve empathy too.

And Minjeong?

She’s on the couch, scrolling through her phone, half-listening, half-silent. Her eyes flick to you once. Just once.

You meet her gaze.

But this time, she’s the one who looks away first.

Too early.

Too loud.

Too chaotic.

And somehow, you’re driving.

“WHO PUT ME ON PACKING DUTY?! I LITERALLY DON’T FOLD!” Tobi shouted from the back, tossing his half-zipped duffel into the trunk like a body bag.

“You brought three jackets, dude.” “It’s Baguio, Gelo! I need options.”

Bea, in full ate mode, was checking off items on her notes app like this was a school field trip.

“Snacks?” “Got it!” “Powerbanks?” “Charging!” “Playlist?” “Bro, I made THREE.” Gelo grinned, flashing his phone like a trophy. “Morning blues, golden hour, and heartbreak o’clock.”

“Why would we need heartbreak o’clock?!” Tobi yawned.

Your head rested on the steering wheel for a second before starting the engine.

It was barely sunrise, your eyes were crusty, the road was long, and your car still smelled like coffee from yesterday’s café run.

“Alright, where are we putting everyone?” Bea asked, already opening the door behind the driver’s seat.

And that’s when it happened.

The Shotgun Wars.

“I want shotgun!” “NO, I called it last night!” “I’m not sitting in the back with Tobi’s snoring!” “Your face is snoring!”

They were at each other’s throats like kids on a field trip.

You sighed, tapping the steering wheel.

“You know we’re literally just gonna be in traffic for 2 hours, right?”

“THAT’S WHY SHOTGUN MATTERS!”

Gelo groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples.

“Okay, okay! Everyone shut up.”

He looked around. Then grinned.

“Minjeong goes in front.”

Silence.

Even Minjeong blinked, looking up from her phone.

“What?”

“You’re the most neutral one here,” Bea said casually.

“You literally didn’t say a word when everyone else was fighting,” Gelo added. “You win by default.”

“That’s... not how winning works,” she muttered.

But the door clicked open.

She hesitated for a second — just a second — before slipping into the passenger seat beside you.

You didn’t look at her.

She didn’t look at you.

The backseat chaos resumed as bags were crammed, seat belts clicked, and Tobi yelled something about bringing a ukulele. But up front?

Dead silence.

You focused on the road. Hands at 10 and 2. Aircon blasting. Music on low.

She shifted in her seat, hugging her knees a little.

“Comfortable?” you asked, eyes still on the road.

She shrugged.

“It’s just a car seat.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodded. Cool. Neutral. Whatever.

⏱️ 1 Hour Later:

The sun peeked higher. Laughter exploded behind you as Gelo played DJ.

“Next up — heartbreak o’clock, baby!”

“NOOOO,” Bea groaned.

The song started: slow, acoustic, nostalgic. One of those OPM tracks that hurt more if you don’t skip it.

Minjeong finally spoke — soft, but firm.

“Skip that.”

You glanced at her, surprised. She was staring out the window.

“Why?” Gelo asked.

“Because this is supposed to be fun.”

Your hands tightened slightly around the wheel. You knew the song. You knew why she skipped it.

You skipped it too — quietly. No one noticed. But she did.

She turned just a little toward you, not enough to make it obvious.

“Thanks.”

“It’s just a song.”

“Still. Thanks.”

Meanwhile, the backseat?

Absolute zoo.

Tobi and Gelo were debating whether pine trees made Baguio smell like Vicks or not, and Bea was threatening to throw someone out the window if they didn’t stop.

But in the front seat — between snack wrappers, bad traffic, and sleepy music — was that same quiet tension.

Not angry.

Not bitter.

Just unfinished.

Fog rolled in like a blanket over the mountainside as your car pulled up to a small roadside eatery — wooden chairs, tin roofing, a hand-painted sign that read "Silang’s Silog Stop" and smelled like hot oil and garlic rice from ten feet away.

The kind of place with plastic tables, laminated menus, and the promise of a breakfast that slaps harder than your thesis defense.

Everyone groaned as they stepped out.

“My spine is permanently L-shaped,” Gelo whined, stretching like a cartoon character.

“My left leg is dead,” Bea said, hopping dramatically.

“My soul left my body after you played VST at 6:30 AM,” Tobi added, yawning.

You locked the car, exhaled deeply, and glanced at Minjeong — who was already heading toward the eatery, hoodie up, arms crossed from the cold.

You followed.

Inside, the group collapsed around a wooden table that was clearly not meant to seat five people comfortably, but you all made it work.

“Table for... 5 please!,” Bea told the waitress, who just smiled and handed out laminated menus.

“SILOG TIME,” Gelo announced dramatically. “Longsilog. Tapsilog. Bangsilog. The Silog-verse.”

Minjeong cracked a tiny smile. You noticed.

Everyone ordered — garlic rice, sunny-side up eggs, hot chocolate, hot coffee, and more hot chocolate. Cold air clung to your sleeves, but the food made it warmer.

You sat at the edge of the bench.

Minjeong sat across from you, hoodie still up, chin resting on her hand, eyes on the steam rising from her cup.

“You good?” you asked quietly, not even sure why you did.

She looked up — blinked like she didn’t expect you to speak.

“Yeah. Just... tired,” she said. Then paused. “But this place’s cute.”

You nodded.

“Didn’t think you liked roadside places.”

“Didn’t think you noticed what I liked.”

Ouch.

But it wasn’t sharp — not anymore. It was soft. Honest.

You opened your mouth to say something, but—

“GUYS GUYS GUYS.” Tobi slammed his spoon down like a gavel. “I have an important announcement.”

Everyone looked at him, mid-bite.

“If I die on this trip, tell my family I want garlic rice at my funeral.”

Bea facepalmed. Gelo laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. Minjeong shook her head, chuckling softly behind her cup.

And you?

You watched her — how her eyes crinkled just a bit when she smiled like that. Not the forced kind. The real kind.

You pushed the vinegar closer to her without her asking. She noticed.

She gave you one of her egg yolks. No words. Just placed it on your plate.

You saw her take a photo of the group, then quickly hide her phone. You were in the frame.

When her hand brushed yours as you reached for the hot sauce — she didn’t pull away first.

After breakfast, the group lingered for a while, full and happy. Cold air blew gently through the windows. Gelo leaned back and sighed.

“This feels like the start of something.”

Minjeong glanced at you.

“Or the end of something, too.”

You weren’t sure which one you wanted it to be.

The car was warmer now — from sunlight, from food, from familiarity. The barkada had settled into that perfect road trip rhythm: loud laughter followed by sleepy silence, interrupted only by the occasional gasp when someone saw clouds too close to the road.

Gelo was on aux, of course.

“Okay, okay, no one touch the playlist. We’re entering the OPM sentimental but not too iyak portion of the trip.”

Bea groaned.

“So… ‘Hiling’ by Silent Sanctuary?”

“YES,” Gelo grinned. “And maybe a little ‘214’? Or… Upuan?”

“Bro I will jump out of this moving vehicle,” Tobi warned. But he sang along anyway.

The music played softly — that warm, raw, open-window-on-a-mountain-highway kind of sound.

“May mga bagay na hindi na dapat balikan…”

You drove slower now. The curves were sharp, and the scenery was stunning — endless green hills, fog drifting like it had nowhere else to be. A few birds flew overhead, and everyone seemed to feel it at once:

That quiet kind of happiness you don’t get to feel often.

Bea snapped photos from the backseat — Gelo with his feet up on the dashboard (you scolded him), Tobi trying to balance a bag of chips on his head, and then…

“Y/N, smile.”

You didn’t.

But Bea took the picture anyway.

Click.

Then she aimed the camera at Minjeong.

Minjeong smiled — small, real — and Bea caught it.

Click.

Then she angled the shot again, both you and Minjeong in frame. You didn’t realize how close your shoulders were until Bea said:

“Cute.”

“Delete it,” Minjeong mumbled, pulling her hoodie down lower.

“Too late. It’s for the grad album.” Bea winked.

Later, Gelo threw on “Buwan” and everyone (except you and Minjeong) screamed the lyrics like they were in an arena.

“AKO’Y SA’YOOO, IKAW AY AKINNNN~” “GAAABIII NA PERO NAAAASAAN KAAA~”

Minjeong leaned her head against the window, laughing quietly at the chaos. The sunlight caught on her cheeks. Her fingers drummed lazily on the armrest between your seats.

You reached forward to adjust the aircon vent, and that’s when it happened—

Your hand grazed hers.

It wasn’t much. Not even a second. But enough for both of you to feel it.

You froze for half a beat.

She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at you.

She just… let it stay there.

Not pressed. Not intentional. Just close enough.

Her pinky curled slightly — not toward you, not away. Just… there.

You didn’t know if it meant anything.

But you didn’t move your hand either.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet — almost drowned out by the music.

You glanced at her. She wasn’t looking at you. Just watching the mountains pass.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes back on the road. “You?”

She nodded slowly.

“Yeah. This feels… nice.”

That was all she said. But somehow, it was the most she’d said to you in days.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a charming, slightly foggy hotel nestled between pine trees and flower beds. The sign out front read “Hillcrest Pines” in cursive, and the air smelled like wood, moss, and overpriced breakfast.

“WE MADE IT!!” Tobi threw open the car door like it was a grand escape mission.

“My back is gone. My spine is dust,” Gelo groaned, crawling out of the backseat.

“You were literally lying down half the trip,” Bea muttered, already pulling out her duffel like a soldier returning from war.

You stepped out, stretching your arms. The Baguio air hit you instantly — crisp, cold, clean. For a second, everything felt... still. No horns. No deadlines. No Manila chaos.

Minjeong stepped out quietly from the passenger side, adjusting her hoodie. Her hair was slightly messy from the wind, and her lips were pressed into that unreadable line she always wore when she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking.

You watched her for a second — just a second — before Gelo clapped you hard on the back.

“Let’s check in, driver man!” “also where you looking?”

“at nothing”

You all barged into the quaint little lobby like a rock band on tour — loud, carrying too many bags, tracking mud, and completely disorganized.

“Hi po! Reservation under Bea Santiago,” Bea said sweetly at the counter.

The receptionist blinked at your group.

“Ma’am... that’s for two rooms.”

Bea froze.

“Wait. TWO?!”

“YOU SAID THREE!!” Tobi gasped, dragging his luggage like a wounded animal.

“I sent the link!” Bea protested. “Y’all didn’t reply!”

“I thought the ‘👍’ emoji meant confirmed!!” Gelo cried.

The receptionist was trying not to laugh.

“So that’s... two rooms, four beds.”

Everyone stared at each other.

Then Tobi:

“Dibs on the bed near the window!”

“I’m not sleeping beside you, you sleep in fetal position and hum.” “It’s called healing, Bea!”

“Okay, okay!” Gelo raised his hands. “Let’s fix this like adults.”

They didn’t.

They argued. Loudly.

And in the middle of all that—

“You and Minjeong can share the other room,” Bea said casually, eyes still on her phone. “Two beds anyway.”

Silence.

Minjeong looked up, brows furrowed.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“Cool?” Bea said, glancing at both of you.

You nodded slowly. Minjeong didn’t.

But she didn’t argue either

The elevator ride was cramped and chaotic.

“MOVE YOUR BACKPACK, TOBI.” “IT’S NOT ME, IT’S GELO’S GUITAR BAG.” “WHO BRINGS A GUITAR TO BAGUIO?” “FOR VIBES!!”

The bell dinged. You stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, rooms 312 and 313.

Everyone split into their designated chaos.

You entered your room with Minjeong behind you — quiet, cold air rushing in as the door opened.

Two beds. Crisp white sheets. A balcony with fog creeping in through the glass.

She dropped her bag by the closet. You dropped yours by the foot of your bed.

Silence.

Then, at the same time:

“You can take the one by the window,” you both said.

Pause.

She looked at you — that same unreadable expression — then shook her head.

“It’s fine. You take it.”

You didn’t argue.

The air felt too thin, the silence too heavy. You turned to check the bathroom. She walked to the window and pushed the curtain open.

And for a second — just a second — you both stood in your separate spaces, watching the fog settle in outside. Close, but not quite touching.

Getting Ready for the Night Out – 6:42 PM, Hotel Room)

The shower was exactly what you needed — warm water, peppermint shampoo, the kind that made your skin tingle and your thoughts finally quiet for a while. You’d been driving half the day, hauling bags, fighting backseat bickering and... whatever this thing with Minjeong was.

So yeah, you took your sweet time.

You stepped out of the bathroom, towel over your head, hair still dripping, skin warm from the steam. You stretched lazily, breathing in that fresh Baguio air seeping through the window.

Only joggers on.

No shirt.

And then—

You froze mid-step.

She was there.

Minjeong. Sitting on the bed. Book in hand. Eyes wide. Not breathing.

You stared at her.

She stared at everything else.

“Oh—” you muttered.

Too late.

Too late to turn around.

Too late to run.

Your hand went halfway to your chest like you suddenly remembered what shame was.

Minjeong blinked quickly and slammed the book shut like it had personally offended her.

“You—uh. Didn’t lock the bathroom door,” she said, voice suddenly way too high and way too fast.

“You were in the balcony earlier, I thought—”

“I—was done. I came back in. I wasn’t looking or anything, I just—uh, it’s cold! And—I was just—”

“Right.”

You reached for your hoodie on the chair in a panic, pulling it on halfway, water dripping onto the floor. But before you could even finish putting one arm in—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—SLAM.

The door flung open.

“YO, Y/N, YOU TAKING FIFTY YEARS TO—”

Gelo. Bea. Tobi.

All of them froze at once.

Eyes wide.

Then—

Bea smirked.

“Are we, um… disturbing something?”

“NO!” Minjeong yelped, voice cracking mid-denial. She stood up way too quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“He just got out of the shower!!” she added, cheeks bright red.

You looked like a deer caught mid-thirst trap, hoodie half-on, chest still bare, water trailing down your collarbones.

Tobi raised his brows slowly.

“Damn. Okay. Hydration nation.”

Gelo burst into laughter, slapping your back as he walked in.

“You could’ve warned us, bro! We’d have knocked less politely!”

Bea just kept grinning, dropping her tote bag on the bed like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/N… shower glow suits you,” she teased.

You yanked the hoodie down completely, finally covering up, ears now matching Minjeong’s flushed face.

She still wasn’t looking at anyone. Or anything. Especially not you.

“Can we never talk about this again?” you muttered.

“Oh, we will,” Tobi grinned. “We absolutely will.”

“Guys, focus,” Bea clapped. “Pre-game time. I brought soju. And someone’s dignity may already be cracked, so might as well lean in.”

Session Road Night Market – 9:26 PM)

The Baguio air was sharper at night — fog wrapping around your arms like a sweater you didn’t ask for. The streets buzzed with life: jackets on sale for ₱250, longganisa on sticks, stalls blasting OPM remixes through old Bluetooth speakers, and lights strung up like fairy tales above the crowd.

Your barkada, of course, entered the scene like chaos in sneakers.

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING,” Bea shouted over the noise. “STREET FOOD. STALLS. CRACKER JACKETS.” “AND FINANCIAL REGRET,” Tobi added dramatically, already eyeing a display of knockoff beanies with suspicious logos.

“You buying that?” Gelo asked, watching Tobi inspect what looked like... a Gucci-branded flashlight.

“Bro, it’s multifunctional!” “It says ‘Gooci’ on it.” “It’s LIMITED.”

🎪 CUT TO: TOBI GETTING ROBBED (politely)

“Kuya, magkano po nito?” Tobi asked the vendor, holding up a ‘Gooci’ flashlight-slash-radio.

“₱850. Sale na ‘yan, boss.”

Tobi’s eyes widened.

“For a flashlight??”

“May radio, speaker, flashlight, at massage function ‘yan,” the man said confidently.

“Massage function?” “Oo, pag na-‘shock’ ka, mararamdaman mo talaga.”

Gelo dragged Tobi away before he paid in real human money.

“We are NOT letting you be the reason why this trip ends in TV Patrol, bro.”

At the jacket stall, Gelo stood behind Bea as she tried one on — a deep green hoodie, oversized and a little worn.

“Looks good on you,” he said, quiet.

Bea glanced at him through the mirror-like rack.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You always pull off this... I-don’t-care-but-I-do kind of look.”

“And you always pull off that... I-make-playlists-and-feel-too-much vibe.”

They held the stare for a second too long.

Then both looked away.

“Let’s get isaw?” “Yeah. Isaw sounds good.”

You spotted Minjeong at a booth near the back — hand-knit beanies, scarves, dreamcatchers. She was holding a gray scarf, fingers brushing the fabric.

“Magkano po ito?” she asked.

“₱400, miss.”

She tilted her head.

“Ahh, kind of expensive for a scarf…”

“Handmade ‘yan, miss. Hindi basta-basta.”

You were watching from a few feet away.

She looked like she wanted to haggle, but the vendor wasn’t budging. You could see it on her face — that mix of frustration and pride.

So you stepped in.

“Love, do we really need another scarf?” you said, sliding in next to her like you’d always been there.

Her eyes snapped to you — wide, confused, but she caught on fast.

“I mean, we already bought one in Mines View, right?” you added, wrapping your arm loosely around her shoulders.

She blinked. Then leaned slightly into you.

“That’s true,” she nodded, playing along. “It’s not that cold anyway.”

“₱250 na lang po, kuya?” you offered, casual smile.

The vendor looked between the two of you — couple aura strong, hand on shoulder, matching sarcasm.

“Okay na, ₱280. Final price.”

Minjeong lit up — a small smile blooming on her lips.

“Thank you, kuya,” she said sweetly, handing over the money.

As you both walked away, you slowly let your arm fall away.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, still holding the scarf.

“Didn’t want you getting scammed. You looked like you were gonna fight him.”

“I was.” Then quieter, “...Thanks.”

She didn’t let go of the scarf. You didn’t let go of the moment.

The Night Ended:

Tobi triumphantly holding a ₱1200 hoodie he swears was a bargain. (It wasn’t.)

Gelo and Bea sharing grilled corn and not looking each other in the eye.

Minjeong wrapping the scarf around her neck — the one you helped her buy.

The group sitting on the curb eating isaw, fishballs, and kwek-kwek, fog curling around their feet.

And you catching Minjeong glancing at you from behind her cup of taho.

The night had settled.

Most of the market buzz had faded, and Session Road felt like it had exhaled. Now, it was just cold wind, dim yellow lights, and the quiet hum of crickets and distant cars.

You and the gang had pulled a few plastic chairs out onto the hotel balcony — four people squeezed into a space meant for two, legs tangled, jackets zipped all the way up, each holding a cup of hot choco or coffee from the convenience store down the hill.

Tobi had a blanket draped like a cape.

Bea was scrolling through photos she wouldn’t post.

Gelo was strumming his guitar softly, barely playing, just... touching the strings.

Minjeong was beside you, holding her scarf like a shield against the cold — the same one from earlier.

No one spoke for a while. Just breathing in the fog. Letting it cling to their lashes.

Then Bea broke the silence.

“We really are graduating, huh?”

No one laughed.

No one said "finally" or made a joke.

Because you all felt it at the same time.

That lump in the throat. That heavy-light feeling in your chest. That slow, creeping realization that things were changing whether you liked it or not.

“Four years,” Gelo said softly. “Gone. Like that.”

“Not gone,” Tobi muttered. “Just… packed. Like a file. You just don’t open it until you’re feeling emo.”

“So… every Sunday?” Bea grinned, eyes glinting.

Everyone chuckled lightly.

Minjeong didn’t laugh. Just looked down at her mug. Her fingers were pale from the cold.

You shifted a little closer — not enough to draw attention. Just enough that your elbows brushed.

She didn’t move away.

“I thought we’d have more time,” she whispered. Only you heard it.

You looked at her, really looked.

Her eyes weren’t sad.

They were tired. From all the nights studying, the fights, the missed chances. But they were also soft. Like she was still holding on to something.

“Hey,” Gelo said suddenly, “let’s make a pact.”

“Oh no,” Bea groaned. “Last time we did this, we almost dyed Tobi’s hair pink.”

“But it looked good!!” Tobi cried.

“Let’s just… promise we’ll try,” Gelo continued. “To stay in touch. To see each other when we can. To not vanish.”

“That’s a big promise,” Bea murmured.

“Yeah,” you said. “But it’s one worth making.”

Everyone held their drinks up — not quite a toast, more like a quiet agreement. A shared breath.

Minjeong raised hers last.

She looked at you — just a glance.

But it lingered.

And for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel unfinished.

It felt... like something beginning.

Everyone slowly shuffling back inside, sleepy and sentimental.

Except you and Minjeong, still on the balcony.

She sips her drink. Then:

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For earlier. The scarf thing. And the... this.”

You smile.

“Anytime.”

Then she says it:

“I hope we don’t lose this. Whatever this is.”

You nod.

“We won’t.”

And in that moment — fog, warmth, stars hidden behind the clouds — you both believe it.

No one really expected to take Tobi seriously when he brought up the idea of visiting the Diplomat Hotel. It was just something he said over breakfast, in between bites of warm longganisa and taho from the convenience store near the hotel. “Let’s go to Diplomat today,” he said casually, as if suggesting a café or a thrift store. Bea immediately shot him down without even blinking. She didn’t even look up from her phone when she muttered, “Absolutely not.”

But of course, Tobi being Tobi, didn’t let it go.

He turned to Gelo for backup — and surprisingly, Gelo, who was usually the sensible one in the group, nodded in agreement. “I mean… it’s daylight. And it’s kinda cool in a creepy way.” And just like that, the chaos began.

Despite her protests, Bea ended up tagging along, grumbling the entire car ride and refusing to sit beside Tobi. She clung to Gelo’s arm like it was the only thing anchoring her to sanity. Meanwhile, you sat in the driver’s seat, glancing at Minjeong beside you every now and then as she scrolled quietly through her phone, occasionally offering sarcastic comments under her breath. She didn’t seem scared — if anything, she looked bored. “Ghosts aren’t real,” she said at one point, her tone flat, dismissive.

When you arrived at the old ruins of the hotel, the air shifted.

The moment your feet hit the stone pathway, it was like the city had faded behind you. Baguio’s usual fog settled around the building like it belonged there — thick and quiet, swallowing up the laughter from nearby tourists. The abandoned structure stood solemn and cracked, stained by time and myths. Ivy crept up the walls, birds cried from unseen perches, and the wind carried stories you didn’t want to hear.

Inside, the sound of your own footsteps echoed louder than expected. Tobi led the group ahead, narrating like a bad tour guide while Bea clung even tighter to Gelo, muttering prayers in between annoyed swears. Gelo seemed calm, but you noticed he never let her stray too far. There was something soft about the way he walked beside her — like he was trying to shield her from every creak and corner.

You and Minjeong stayed near the back, both of you amused at how jumpy everyone else was. She scoffed at the chipped statues and broken windows, making dry commentary every time Tobi pointed at something with dramatic flair.

That was — until you saw her.

You turned a corner and stopped mid-step. At the end of the hallway, beneath a crumbling arch and half-lit by the broken sunlight, stood a woman. White dress. Hair long and dark, draped over her face. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She just stood there — still and watching.

Your breath caught. “Minjeong,” you whispered.

She was still mid-sentence when she followed your gaze. The moment her eyes found what you were seeing, her voice dropped. “What… is that?”

You didn’t respond. You both stared.

And then — just as suddenly — the figure was gone.

No footsteps. No movement. Just… nothing.

You backed away slowly, both your bodies tense, your instincts louder than your logic. “We should go,” you muttered.

“Yep. Agreed,” she said, her voice tight.

Neither of you bothered pretending anymore.

You rushed back to the others. Bea screamed just from the look on your faces.

“WHY ARE YOU RUNNING—WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!” Tobi panicked.

“There was a woman,” you explained breathlessly. “Down the hallway. White dress. Hair over her face.”

Minjeong nodded, gripping your arm now — the same Minjeong who insisted ghosts weren’t real fifteen minutes ago.

“I still don’t believe in ghosts,” she said shakily, “but I believe in leaving.”

No one questioned it after that. Not when they saw how pale Minjeong looked. Not when you refused to go back inside. Not even when Bea, who had been terrified since the beginning, turned to Tobi and deadpanned, “Thanks for picking this, dumbass.”

By the time you got back to the car, the laughter had started to come back, but only to cover the nerves. Gelo wrapped his jacket around Bea’s shoulders without a word. Tobi swore he was only trying to make the trip “a little memorable.” And Minjeong?

She still held your arm for a while, even after you were safely out of the hotel grounds.

She didn’t look at you directly, but you heard her mumble just loud enough for you to catch it.

“I’m sleeping with the lights on tonight.”

You smiled.

“Yeah. Me too.”

The ghost talk didn’t last long once you got back to the hotel — not because it wasn’t real, but because no one wanted it to be.

The group agreed, without agreeing, to distract themselves the best way they knew how: A last-night barkada inuman.

Someone turned on the Bluetooth speaker. Tobi played old OPM acoustic songs. Gelo ran to the 7-Eleven nearby and returned with soju, iced tea, and three kinds of chips no one really liked. Bea, still slightly pale from earlier, announced she would only drink “if the room was well-lit and no scary stories were allowed.”

Minjeong? She stayed quiet, curled on one end of the bed with a pillow hugged to her chest, wearing the same scarf you helped her haggle for.

You all sat in a circle on the floor. Lights on. Music low. Drinks just starting.

“Okay, rules are simple,” Tobi said, pouring the first shot into a plastic cup. “Truth or drink. No chickening out. No lying. No haunting.”

Bea narrowed her eyes.

“Define haunting.” “Emotional or otherwise,” Tobi replied solemnly.

Everyone laughed.

The questions started light. Gelo was asked if he’d ever cried to a K-drama (he had — Hospital Playlist, twice). Bea was asked if she’d ever liked someone in the room (she drank — suspiciously). Minjeong was asked if she still didn’t believe in ghosts.

“I believe in staying alive,” she muttered, sipping iced tea.

“Isn’t that what scared people say?” you teased, raising a brow.

She shot you a glare over the rim of her cup.

“I’m not scared.” Then after a pause— “But you’re sleeping closest to the door tonight.”

Eventually, things softened. As they always do.

The laughter turned slower. The music quieter. The soju halfway gone.

Gelo was lying on the floor with a snack on his chest. Bea was half-asleep against the headboard, phone forgotten in her hand. Tobi had started talking about the future, his voice just slightly slurred, his bravado replaced with something more honest.

“Do you guys think we’ll actually keep in touch?” he asked suddenly.

No one answered right away.

“I mean… we say we will,” he continued. “But life’s fast. You blink and suddenly you’re thirty, working, tired, and people become… people you used to know.”

Bea shifted on the bed.

“Why would you say that right when I’m almost drunk enough to cry?”

“It’s not sad,” he said. “It’s just… real.”

Gelo sat up and clinked his cup gently with Tobi’s.

“Then let’s be real and promise to fight for this. For all of us.”

Minjeong’s voice was quiet when she spoke.

“I think… some people are meant to stay. If you let them.”

You turned to look at her.

Her head was tilted toward the window, moonlight casting shadows across her face. Her expression unreadable, but her eyes? They flicked toward you for just a second too long.

You held the stare.

“Are we the type to stay?” you asked softly.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then:

“Only if you remember to lock the bathroom next time.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips. Even in moments like this, she never let you win too easily.

The night wind rattled the windows once. Everyone flinched, then laughed nervously. Bea cursed under her breath and threw a pillow at the light switch, just in case.

Eventually, everyone began to settle.

Tobi snored first. Gelo followed soon after. Bea fell asleep hugging someone’s hoodie that may or may not have been Gelo’s. You helped clean up the table quietly, throwing snack wrappers into a bag, trying not to wake anyone.

Minjeong was still sitting on the bed when you turned.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Still waiting for the ghost, though.”

“I think it already showed up,” you joked. “When?” “When you looked at me like that earlier.”

She didn’t respond.

Just looked at you. Quiet. Soft.

And then — as if to completely ruin the moment — she tossed a pillow straight at your face.

“Lights stay on,” she said. “Non-negotiable.”

That night, everyone fell asleep under too many blankets, too many jackets, and too many memories they didn’t know how to name yet.

And even though the lights were on... It was the silence between you and Minjeong that stayed warm the longest.

The ghost talk didn’t last long once you got back to the hotel — not because it wasn’t real, but because no one wanted it to be.

The group agreed, without agreeing, to distract themselves the best way they knew how: A last-night barkada inuman.

Someone turned on the Bluetooth speaker. Tobi played old OPM acoustic songs. Gelo ran to the 7-Eleven nearby and returned with soju, iced tea, and three kinds of chips no one really liked. Bea, still slightly pale from earlier, announced she would only drink “if the room was well-lit and no scary stories were allowed.”

Minjeong? She stayed quiet, curled on one end of the bed with a pillow hugged to her chest, wearing the same scarf you helped her haggle for.

You all sat in a circle on the floor. Lights on. Music low. Drinks just starting.

“Okay, rules are simple,” Tobi said, pouring the first shot into a plastic cup. “Truth or drink. No chickening out. No lying. No haunting.”

Bea narrowed her eyes.

“Define haunting.” “Emotional or otherwise,” Tobi replied solemnly.

Everyone laughed.

The questions started light. Gelo was asked if he’d ever cried to a K-drama (he had — Hospital Playlist, twice). Bea was asked if she’d ever liked someone in the room (she drank — suspiciously). Minjeong was asked if she still didn’t believe in ghosts.

“I believe in staying alive,” she muttered, sipping iced tea.

“Isn’t that what scared people say?” you teased, raising a brow.

She shot you a glare over the rim of her cup.

“I’m not scared.” Then after a pause— “But you’re sleeping closest to the door tonight.”

Eventually, things softened. As they always do.

The laughter turned slower. The music quieter. The soju halfway gone.

Gelo was lying on the floor with a snack on his chest. Bea was half-asleep against the headboard, phone forgotten in her hand. Tobi had started talking about the future, his voice just slightly slurred, his bravado replaced with something more honest.

“Do you guys think we’ll actually keep in touch?” he asked suddenly.

No one answered right away.

“I mean… we say we will,” he continued. “But life’s fast. You blink and suddenly you’re thirty, working, tired, and people become… people you used to know.”

Bea shifted on the bed.

“Why would you say that right when I’m almost drunk enough to cry?”

“It’s not sad,” he said. “It’s just… real.”

Gelo sat up and clinked his cup gently with Tobi’s.

“Then let’s be real and promise to fight for this. For all of us.”

Minjeong’s voice was quiet when she spoke.

“I think… some people are meant to stay. If you let them.”

You turned to look at her.

Her head was tilted toward the window, moonlight casting shadows across her face. Her expression unreadable, but her eyes? They flicked toward you for just a second too long.

You held the stare.

“Are we the type to stay?” you asked softly.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then:

“Only if you remember to lock the bathroom next time.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips. Even in moments like this, she never let you win too easily.

The night wind rattled the windows once. Everyone flinched, then laughed nervously. Bea cursed under her breath and threw a pillow at the light switch, just in case.

Eventually, everyone began to settle.

Tobi snored first. Gelo followed soon after. Bea fell asleep hugging someone’s hoodie that may or may not have been Gelo’s. You helped clean up the table quietly, throwing snack wrappers into a bag, trying not to wake anyone.

Minjeong was still sitting on the bed when you turned.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Still waiting for the ghost, though.”

“I think it already showed up,” you joked. “When?” “When you looked at me like that earlier.”

She didn’t respond.

Just looked at you. Quiet. Soft.

And then — as if to completely ruin the moment — she tossed a pillow straight at your face.

“Lights stay on,” she said. “Non-negotiable.”

That night, everyone fell asleep under too many blankets, too many jackets, and too many memories they didn’t know how to name yet.

And even though the lights were on... It was the silence between you and Minjeong that stayed warm the longest.

By the third day, everything started to feel like the last stretch of summer. The kind that doesn’t say goodbye outright — just lingers in long car rides, too-sweet taho, and barkada playlists stuck on repeat.

Gelo finally got his wish: The strawberry farm. Even wore red for the occasion.

“Manifesting ripe strawberries only,” he said dramatically. “Manifesting a working stomach,” Tobi muttered, still recovering from too much kwek-kwek last night. “Manifesting peace,” Bea yawned, hood up, clinging to a hot drink like it owed her money.

Minjeong stood near the edge of the field, sunglasses on, scarf still wrapped around her neck. Her boots sank slightly into the soft dirt as she walked ahead, distant but unbothered.

And you? You weren’t even trying to play it cool anymore.

You kept standing next to her. Grabbing the same baskets. Reaching over to flick strawberry leaves off her hoodie. Steady hand on her back whenever the ground got uneven.

Gelo noticed. Tobi noticed. Even Bea squinted and whispered, “You seeing this tension or am I sleep-deprived?”

But Minjeong?

Minjeong was pretending not to notice — until she did.

“Hold this for me?” you asked, offering to carry her half-full basket.

“Why?” she replied without looking. “Because you’re tired.” “I’m not.” “But I am. Carrying the weight of this one-sided love.”

She finally turned.

Sunglasses lowered.

Eyebrow raised.

“You’re not serious.”

“Try me,” you grinned.

She stared for a second. Then looked away, fast.

But you saw it.

That tiny flush at the tips of her ears. The way she adjusted her scarf higher. And how she suddenly seemed way more interested in the strawberries on the opposite side of the row.

Later on, you stood beside her again while picking fruit. Your shoulders brushed, and this time, you didn’t move away. She glanced down at your hand — just resting close to hers — and let out a tiny sigh.

“You’re being... clingy,” she said flatly.

“No I’m not,” you replied, smiling. “I’m being emotionally available.” “There’s a difference?” “Yeah. One’s flirty. The other’s terrifying.”

She laughed. Just a little. And you swear you saw her bite her lip to stop the smile from growing.

Then finally:

“Hey,” she said, voice quiet but sharp, “we’re not something.”

She didn’t look at you.

But her voice faltered just slightly. Like she needed to remind herself, too.

“I know,” you said, brushing past her to grab another berry. “We’re just... not nothing.”

You left her there — standing in that spot — lips parted like she was about to argue, but forgot how to.

When you glanced back a few steps later, you saw it.

The softest blush.

She looked away again, but too late. You caught it.

And you knew she knew that you did.

It started small. It always does.

A laugh that lingered. A glance that didn’t feel meant for you. A moment that made you feel… uninvited.

The group had found this quiet café tucked behind the farms — wooden chairs, tin roof, and the kind of cold that made hot chocolate necessary. Everyone was talking over each other, still giddy from picking strawberries, still teasing Gelo for posting Bea on his Instagram story (accidentally).

You were seated across Minjeong. Close enough to pass her sugar. Far enough to notice when she leaned into Tobi’s joke a little too much.

You didn’t mean to care. But it hit you anyway.

That laugh. That way she rested her chin on her palm. That little smile — one you hadn’t seen in days.

“You okay?” Bea asked from beside you, noticing your silence.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly. “Just tired.”

But tired didn’t feel right. You weren’t tired — you were afraid.

Afraid that maybe the moments you thought meant something… didn’t.

The worst part?

Minjeong didn’t notice. Or maybe she did — and chose not to.

When you stood up first to pay, she didn’t offer to follow. When you handed her change from her drink, she just nodded. When you walked back to the van, she stayed behind with Tobi and Gelo — laughing about something you couldn’t hear.

So you walked faster. Hands in your jacket. Breath stuck somewhere in your throat.

The fog felt thicker now.

On the ride back, she sat behind you.

Not beside. Not close. Just… there.

You heard her laugh again. You didn’t turn around.

“You okay?” she texted, minutes later.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.

Because how do you say:

No, I’m not okay. I liked you. I really liked you. And watching you drift away while pretending we were never anything hurts more than I thought it would.

Instead, you stared out the window. Let the silence swallow what your pride wouldn’t let out.

Later that afternoon, just before the rain started, she caught up to you outside the strawberry parking lot.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“So?”

“So you’re not usually.”

You stared straight ahead, hands still in your jacket, jaw locked.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why.”

She crossed her arms, defensive now.

“If this is about earlier—”

“It’s not just earlier,” you cut her off. “It’s everything. It’s been everything.”

“Then say it,” she challenged. “Say what’s on your mind.”

You stared at her. Face to face. Rain starting to tap gently on the ground.

And suddenly, it wasn’t drizzle anymore.

It always had to be rain, didn’t it?

Not during the car ride. Not while picking strawberries or drinking hot choco. Not while Bea and Gelo bickered and Tobi cracked stupid jokes.

Only now. When it mattered. When everything finally broke.

You didn’t mean to raise your voice. You didn’t mean to chase after her either — not at first.

But there she was, walking too fast in the drizzle, her scarf half-off, eyes glassy but locked forward. And there you were, storming behind her, boots soaking in mud, hands clenched like they were holding back every word you weren’t supposed to say.

The argument inside the car had been sharp. Short. Quiet enough that the others couldn’t tell what was happening — but loud enough to rattle everything between you and her.

One sentence from you. One look from her. And then she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Click. Door opens.

“Where are you going?!” you snapped.

But Minjeong was already out. Already slamming the door behind her. Already walking away, fast — arms crossed, scarf falling, rain starting to soak through her sleeves.

You followed.

Because of course you did.

“Minjeong!” you shouted, boots splashing through shallow puddles.

“Minjeong!” No answer.

“Fucking stop walking!”

She did. But she didn’t turn.

“What is your problem?” you spat, rain pouring, fog thick.

She turned, eyes wild.

“My problem?”

“Yeah! You act like nothing happened—like I didn’t just spend the last three days—fuck, weeks—trying to understand you.”

“And I never asked you to!”

You stepped forward.

“Then say it. Say you didn’t feel anything. That this was just a game to you. That all of that — the looks, the scarf, the fucking ghost moment — meant nothing.”

She shook her head. A single tear fell — or maybe it was rain.

“Why are you doing this now?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore, Minjeong! You keep pulling me in and pushing me away and I—”

Your voice cracked.

“I fucking loved you.”

Silence.

“I loved you. I fucking loved you and I still do.”

The rain got harder. So did your breathing.

You turned away slightly, hands on your knees, angry at yourself for saying it. Angry at the way it made you feel weak.

Until you heard her say—

“Then love me.”

You looked up. She was staring dead at you. Wet hair sticking to her face, jacket clinging to her frame, and eyes burning.

“I know you’re a pussy, I know you’re scared—” Her voice broke. “But don’t fucking back off now. Don’t pull away again.”

“Because I fucking love you too.”

There was no background music. No slow zoom-in.

Just you. Her. And the sound of your heart falling out of your chest.

“Then why—” “Because I was scared too, okay?! Because you felt real and that scared me. Because you weren’t supposed to mean this much.”

She stepped forward. One step. Two. Until her hand was grabbing your soaked jacket.

“But you do. And you always have.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t have to.

Because your lips found hers in the rain.

Because anger isn’t the opposite of love — it’s the proof of it.

After the multiple honking of tobi signaling that its time to go, you two finally returned to the van soaked in the rainwater.

“Y’ALL GOOD OR…???” Tobi shouted from the window, his voice a perfect mix of worry and teasing. “Kinda feels like we just witnessed the climax of a love team,” Bea mumbled. “We did,” Gelo said, mouth full of chicharon. “And it’s giving Blockbuster.”

Same Night, (9:PM) hotel.

The rain stopped, but the world didn’t feel dry yet.

You sat at the edge of the bed, towel-drying your hair in a shirt that still smelled like hotel soap. Minjeong was curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, staring blankly at the muted TV that no one was watching.

She hadn't said anything since the kiss.

Neither had you.

“You okay?” you finally asked, voice soft — like you didn’t want to break the quiet.

She looked up.

Eyes tired. Shoulders softer. But there was a weird calm in the way she nodded.

“I think so,” she said. “It’s just... a lot.”

You nodded, too.

Because yeah. It was a lot.

The whole trip felt like a delayed emotional car crash. From ignoring each other, to lowkey flirting, to that kiss in the rain that still hadn’t fully left your lips.

“I meant what I said,” you murmured.

She didn’t answer — just looked at you with a faint, knowing smile.

And for now, that was enough.

The Next Morning

Alarms rang at 6AM. Bea screamed into a pillow at 6:01. Tobi was sleepwalking while brushing his teeth. Gelo wore sunglasses inside and outside.

“This is it,” he said, dramatically holding his suitcase like a baby. “We’re not coming back here ever again.”

“It’s not like we died,” Bea replied, zipping her hoodie.

“Something died,” Tobi mumbled. “My will to go home.”

Meanwhile, Minjeong was quietly folding her scarf — the one you helped her haggle for. You were beside her, packing your bags slowly, wanting to stall time.

There was a knock.

“Let’s go, checkout’s in 10,” Tobi called.

And just like that, the final zip of a luggage sounded too much like a goodbye.

In the lobby, it hit.

Tobi started crying while checking out.

Like… quiet tears. Silent. Betrayed by one trembling sniff.

“You okay?” Gelo asked, trying to laugh.

“No,” Tobi choked out, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’m not okay. I love you guys so much and we’re never gonna be like this again!”

Gelo tried to comfort him. But halfway through the hug, he started crying too.

“Bro don’t make me cry—shit. You’re right. This is our last barkada trip.”

“Ever??” “Maybe not ever, but… yeah. This part’s over.”

Bea ended up crying too — hitting them both in the shoulder for being too dramatic but also crying into Gelo���s shirt.

And you? You were just standing there, eyes on Minjeong.

She wasn’t crying. Not yet.

But she was looking at you like she knew you would.

The Road Trip Home – A Playlist of Memories

Gelo played Ben&Ben again. Tobi passed snacks around like he wasn’t just sobbing 20 minutes ago.

Everyone was tired, but no one wanted to sleep.

There were photos on phones being airdropped back and forth. Recordings of karaoke in the van. Bea whispering, “Send me that one of Minjeong staring at someone while he’s not looking—yeah, that one.”

You leaned your head against the window, Minjeong’s pinky brushing yours beneath the blanket you quietly shared in the backseat.

No more pretending now.

Just… peace.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.

“Then let’s not let it,” you replied.

She looked at you — with fear, with longing, with the smallest smile.

“Scary ka din pala when you mean it.”

Graduation Day – The Goodbye Party

The crowd was loud. Caps were thrown. Everyone was hugging. Laughing. Crying. Repeating the same lines over and over:

“Let’s hang out again soon.” “Don’t forget me ha.” “Same school sana sa college.”

But no one knew how much they meant it. Or how long it would last.

The afterparty was warm and golden — barkada huddled together under fairy lights, cheap cocktails in red cups, Tobi passed out on a beanbag while Bea drew a mustache on him.

Minjeong was sitting by herself.

Drink half-finished. Legs crossed. Head leaned back.

You approached quietly. She smiled when she saw you.

“Hey,” she said, voice airy. “I thought you’d be dancing.”

“I only dance when I’m stupid drunk,” you replied. “Guess I’ll wait for that then.”

Silence.

Then she looked at you — with that same quiet vulnerability she always hid behind sarcasm.

“I’m scared again,” she whispered.

“Me too.”

“But I think I love you more than I’m scared.”

You exhaled — hands slipping into hers like second nature.

“Then that’s enough.”

You sat together, far from the noise. Backs resting on a slight slope. Night sky above. Empty bottles scattered near your feet.

She was tipsy. Honest. Dangerous.

And you were just there, ready to remember this moment forever.

She rested her head on your shoulder.

Paused.

Then, almost too quietly:

“I’m drunk.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Another pause. A deeper breath.

“I’m drunk… I love you.”

You froze for a second. Not because you doubted her — but because it sounded like the truest thing she’s ever said.

“Say it again tomorrow,” you whispered.

She smiled, eyes already half-shut.

“I will.”

20 Years Later – A Quiet Sunday Afternoon

The house smelled like brewed coffee and banana bread.

Outside, rain tapped gently on the windows — not a storm, just the kind that made everyone lazy. Inside, your daughter was curled between you and Minjeong on the couch, remote in her hand, staring up at the old TV.

“This one?” she asked, blinking at the ancient USB file titled ‘Grad Trip – Baguio 🥹🫶🏼.

“Yes,” Minjeong smiled, her voice quieter now, but still laced with that same teasing edge. “Brace yourself, baby. This was your dad’s emo era.”

“Hey!” you protested. “Your mom was worse. She ghosted me for half the trip!”

“Because you were annoying.”

Your daughter rolled her eyes, grinning.

“Just play it already.”

And with a click — the screen faded in.

First, chaos: Gelo screaming over OPM music. Tobi singing with his head out the van window. Bea trying to organize the itinerary while everyone ignored her. And then — that stupidly blurry clip of you and Minjeong on the balcony, clinking Java Chip drinks under the stars.

The screen cut again.

Now it was the Strawberry Farm — Gelo dancing with a basket on his head, Bea pretending she didn’t know him, and you sneaking strawberries into Minjeong’s pocket.

“You guys were so... young,” your daughter whispered.

“We were,” Minjeong replied, her fingers unconsciously reaching for yours.

The next clip played.

Rain. Shaky footage. You two soaked and breathless, laughing after the kiss, Tobi yelling from the van:

“GET IN HERE YOU LOVETEAM FREAKS!!!”

Then the final clip loaded — Everyone gathered around a dim hotel room, red cups in hand, cheap fairy lights glowing from Gelo’s phone flashlight.

Minjeong on the floor, flushed and sleepy, holding her drink up with a lazy smile.

“I’m drunk,” the video Minjeong slurred, leaning into you. “I love you.”

“they filmed that?!” you said confused and embarrassed

While your daughter gasped, turning to her mom wide-eyed.

“You really said that?!” “...I did.” “And you stayed together after that?” “We stayed,” you answered, reaching over to ruffle your daughter’s hair. “Because it was never just about being drunk.”

“It was always about love,” Minjeong added.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, your daughter hit replay — and for the first time, she saw her parents not as mom and dad, but as two kids who met during a trip… and accidentally built a lifetime from a single kiss in the rain.

“We didn’t mean to fall in love on that trip. But love doesn’t ask for permission — it just waits for you to stop being scared.”

[which-star]

I think Rumi would be a business major 😔😔😔 Like, definitely with a musical minor so it could be music industry-related, plus aNOTHER minor in international relations because she’s an overachieving disaster, but yeah her major is business

Look firstly, it is Practical™️ which she would like, and secondly it would be funny because someone makes one of those “business majors joined the dark side they have no souls” jokes and Rumi has a mcfucking heart attack

I think Mira’s a psychology major (she wants to listen to people and figure out why they’re Like That, plus it vibes with her own issues growing up she wants to try and learn more about dysfunctional households and stuff) with a minor in dance

I looooove marine bio!Zoey so much omg that’s such a good idea!!!! Also this would round out our trip with one STEM major, one libarts major, and one business major lol

(Also idk if you have a college in mind for them but I’m personally 1000% thinking UCLA, it has a bunch of good programs that would draw international students plus its close enough for Zoey to commute)

I was also thinking UCLA! It has the name reputation and probably is generic enough to fit any good college au. In my head I've been calling it the kpdh ucla au so I'll go back and tag everything accordingly.

Rumi would with the soulless business major jokes 😭😭😭 I don't think Mira would be minoring in anything with their main focus being on recruiting Zoey, but Rumi would definitely be stacking like you said!!! They probably already have singing and dancing as a hobby Celine Song encourages, so they wouldn't necessarily need to take classes in music when they've been training with Celine. I totally agree with their majors too, Mira would make a killer psych major and Rumi definitely is like in accounting or finance boohoo

Zoey, on the other hand, is still living with her parent(s) in this au. With her people-pleasing tendencies and probably the financial backing her parents provide (she's not a selling out stadiums as she should😔), she likely chose a field that had some parental approval. Marine biology promises some of that STEM handle despite not being pre-med or math. Because of that, she's definitely minoring in music! I can even see her attempting to make it a double-major despite there being 0 credit overlap. Even if she wanted to be pursuing music, I feel like she's boxed herself in with her parent's expectations.

Since their canon ages are 1-2 years apart I was going to make rumira like juniors and Zoey a sophomore (or sophmore-freshmen depending on the plot!) Korea's school system usually sorts by birth year rather than the American august-cutoff so if Zoey has a late birthday that can make her still 2 years younger while being only a grade below. This is relatively irrelevant but I just thought I'd share!

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Part 7) (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you this final chapter <3.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, very light degrading (slut, dirty girl), P in V, intimacy between the boys <3, mentions of over stimulation, I think that's it. FLUFF, story starts angsty but ends fluffy <3.

ANGST, Chapter starts where the last one left off, Martin's dad drunkenly corner's Y/N and gets spicy. (Unlike what happened with his son, weight isn't mentioned. He's salty about Eddie and Steve), the boys come to the rescue.

Word Count: 6938

Series Masterlist/Donate to Me

“Fucking asshole.”, the dean murmurs under his breath as you all take a seat. “I’m sorry for that, Y/N. No matter what, Jared has no reason to speak to you or anyone like that. I was hoping when his son was expelled, I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore but—”

His voice trailed off as he finally glanced up and noticed you were crying while Eddie tried to comfort you. 

“Yes…well, Steven, your father had a busy weekend. I guess you three were at his house and he called Mr. Click who in turn sent someone to follow Miss Y/L/N. They got some snapshots of her leaving your home…”

The coach growled as his fists clenched. 

“I shouldn’t have gone over there. I’m so stupid.”

“Are they in trouble?”, you ask in a small voice that has Steve sighing as your professor reached out to pet your head. “Please, they didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me and—”

“Technically they did do something wrong.”, he cut you off, exhaling heavily as he leaned back in his chair. “You know, the quake happened while I was a professor myself. I taught history of all things.”, the dean chuckles. “Before that though, the professors were put on notice about a murderer running around Hawkins and to be on alert…Just in case Edward Munson showed up on campus.”

The metalhead’s eyes fell and you felt Steve’s arm reach across your back to rub his shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you but I knew a Wayne Munson. He was a freshman when I was a senior in high school…Forgive me for showing my age… Wayne had this hard exterior but I remember he was always a good kid. Some of the teachers would treat him like shit because of your grandfather and father. Little Allen Munson seemed to be following in his father footsteps even though your uncle did what he could detour that. 

That was the first thought I had when news came out about you, Eddie. I truly believed you were innocent…and I still do. That’s why I hired you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Bill, I’ve known since about that time to and he hasn’t changed.”, Dean Gilman sighs in annoyance. “Still a little boy who needs all the attention he can get. You were headed down that path for a while, son.”

“Yeah…I decided I didn’t want to be an asshole.”

“Hm. Good choice.” He pauses and you feel his eyes scan you over before he continues. “Were you both planning on going with her to New York?”

“Yes.”, they both responded in unison before the coach followed with, “We were going to give you our resignation letters on the last day of the semester.”

“Found a job yet?”

They shake their heads. 

“There’s a football team at one of the universities looking for a coach…” Steve’s head shot up as the dean wrote something down and handed him the paper. “It’s not at NYU but I assumed you wouldn’t want to coach at the school she’s at. I already called and he’s anxious to meet you.”

“I-I-I…thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Munson, I’m afraid I don’t know of any colleges hiring professors but I can keep looking and I recommend you look to. I’d be more than happy to write a recommendation.”

“Wait…are—are we in trouble?”, you ask, completely thrown off guard by his kindness.

“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t see the point. I mean, is it consensual? They aren’t hurting you or forcing you into this right?”

“No, sir. I love them.”

“Good…good. If you weren’t leaving, I would HAVE to do something but…fuck them. You three have been through enough and you’re almost out of here. That doesn’t mean I want to see open PDA on campus or anything—”

“Oh, no, sir. We would never…”

“Ok good. Now get out of my office.”, he chides lightly before being thrown off guard when you run around the desk to give him a hug. 

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie and Steve beam your way, holding the door open for you as you happily bounce out into the lobby. “Oh my God. Is this really happening? Is everything really ok?”

“Yeah, baby, it is and even better…”, your professor pauses as he yanks on his partners hand to bring his lips to his own. “…I can do that. I can’t wait to do it with you, sweetheart.”

***

Steve grins as he watched his partner carefully packing his books nestled in his office shelf into the box at his feet. 

“Baby, they aren’t glass. They won’t break.”

“Says you, Mr. Harrington, but a lot of these are first or collector’s editions so you’re lucky I’m even putting them in a box and not like a protective dome that costs more than the book itself.”

Biting his bottom lip, the coach leans forward to grab Eddie’s waist and pull him onto his lap. 

“I love you, freak.”

“I love you to, asshole.”, the professor laughs, kissing his lips. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me.” When the man only hugs him tighter, the metalhead wraps his arm around the back of his neck and brings his head to his chest. “We still have to be careful, sweetheart. We aren’t out of here just yet.”

“I know but…”, Steve sighs as he presses his face into his boyfriend’s soft, cigarette smelling shirt. “10 years, Eddie. I spent 10 years hiding how much I care about you…Now that people know…now that my FATHER knows…it’s hard to reign it in.”

The long-haired man smiles softly as he tilts down to kiss his fluffy head of hair. 

“Have you heard from him?”

“No and I most likely won’t. It’s good for him because I want to fucking kill him for talking to Jared.”

“You know where my dad is?!”

At the sound of Martin’s exasperated shout both men hastily rose to their feet with Steve pushing Eddie behind him. 

“What are you doing here, Mr. Click? You’re not allowed on campus.”

“You mentioned my dad’s name. Do you know where he went?”

“What are you talking about—”

“Fuck! I came here to warn you because Y/N wasn’t in her dorm—”

“You’re not allowed anywhere near her.”, the professor growled, moving to position himself at his partner’s side. 

“I fucking know that but my dad’s been out of control since the dean kicked him out of his office and he found out you three aren’t in trouble. He tried to talk to her mom but she just slammed the door in his face…” 

Both men exchanged a worried look; you hadn’t told them that. 

“He’s been drinking non-stop and even missed work today—”

“What’s your point, Martin?!”, Steve shouted, his fear beginning to take over. 

“Fuck! I’m trying to tell you…I think he’s going to do something stupid! I told him to let it go especially since I heard you guys were leaving but he kept mumbling about how it’s not fair and Y/N should be reprimanded even if he has to do it himself.”

The boy barely got his last sentence out as they collected their jackets and pushed him aside to hurry towards the parking lot. 

“Where is she?”, Steve asked firmly.

“Diner with Theo.”, Eddie answered, climbing into the passenger side of the BMW before his boyfriend revved the engine and sped out away from the school. 

***

How were you back here?

How were back outside this stupid diner with a Click cornering you?

Thankfully you weren’t alone but you were also aware that with Martin’s father you were in a bit more danger than with the boy himself. 

“Go away, Mr. Click. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking straight…”, Theo pleaded with an authoritative edge as he kept you safely behind him. 

“No, I’m thinking clearer than I ever have. Jason Carver had the right idea 10 years ago. You have to fight back to get what you want especially in Hawkins. Unfortunately, he died and his killer is walking free. It’s not right…just like it’s not right that my son is expelled!”

“Me being with Eddie has nothing to do with what your son did.”

Jared’s eyes widen as he staggers forwards while Theo guides you backward away from him. 

“Of course, it does, honey. It’s all connected in a town this small and it always starts with a flaw…flaws like the Munson’s. Allen stole from everyone, conned everyone here scaring people into locking their doors and windows till he ended up in jail. Everything was fine till kids started getting murdered…till HE murdered them… He gets off and is set free…Pulls in a high member of societies son, one of his students…gets my son expelled…”

“What about Will Byers? What about the Hawkins Lab? What about the earthquake?!”, you shout, trying to step towards him but your protector won’t allow it. “You’re right, Jared. This town has flaws but it’s not people like Eddie. You can change the narrative to fit all you want but the flaw is people like you and Steve’s father. People who chased him down and tried to hurt him. People who can’t accept anyone that’s different!”

Martin’s father shook his head as he chuckled. 

“He’s got you brainwashed, little girl. Now, you are going to tell Hopper and the dean that you lied—”

“No.”

Jared took confident steps towards you, grabbing Theo and hitting him hard as the boy shouts for you to run. 

You don’t get very far as arms circle around you and lift you off the ground before you feel yourself suddenly falling sideways. 

You hear a grunt of pain before someone gets up to sprint away but a fast breeze whooshes past you as sneakers loudly hit the pavement. 

“Hey, look at me. Are you ok?”, Steve inquired as his palm ran down your hair and his eyes scanned your face. Your panicked irises flick towards Theo who begrudgingly took Martin’s extended hand to help him to his feet. “Y/N! Are you ok??”

“Yeah…yeah I’m…Where’s…?”

You both turned at the sounds coming from down the alley way and watch as Eddie delivers repeated blows to the man’s face. You quickly stand and wobble that way, catching your professor’s wrist as he raised his arm to hit him again. 

“Stop…Stop, Eddie, please…don’t…don’t let them win. We’re finally going to get out of here…and be happy…please.”

The metalhead grit his teeth as his shoulder’s deflated and you helped him up off the person beneath him just as Chief Hopper’s cruiser rounded the corner into the diner parking lot. 

***

Your mom exhales as she strides into the living room and tosses all the first aid supplies onto the coffee table. 

“Benefit of being married to a first responder. He always insisted we had stuff like this on standby. ‘You never know.’”, she mimed in a deep voice that had you smiling. 

Theo was the first to lean forward, grabbing the icepack and placing it on his cheek. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Theo, I’ve met you numerous times. You don’t have to be so formal.”, she sarcastically scolded as her eyes met yours before taking in both men on her couch. “Jesus Christ.”

Throwing her body down beside Steve, she grabbed the antiseptic and he winced as she began cleaning the cut on his face. 

“You have a lot of little scars, Mr. Harrington. How many times has someone hit you in the face?” His amber irises instantly snap her way. “Told you…married to a first responder…you pick up some things.”

“More than a few times…”

“Not by your asshole father right? Because I can talk to him if you—”

“No, no.”, he breathily laughs. “No. He would have had to have been there to interact with me at all, let alone…”

While they talked, you had begun to clean Eddie’s fingers and carefully wrap gauze around his knuckles. 

“You both saved my daughter again. Well three…I didn’t forget about you, Theodore.”, she praises and he scrunches his nose with a smile her way. “Thank you.”

Silently Eddie stood up and climbed the stairs turning into the first room he found with you following close behind. Steve closed the door behind you before flicking on a switch that illuminated the string of lights along the walls. 

“Is this your room?”

As soon as you nod, the coach starts exploring beaming at your posters of 90s celebrities along your wall and cassettes piled high with bands his partner had introduced him to. The desk by your window had a couple of scripts he assumed was from your high school days and notes on paper that had him craning his neck to read. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“What is that?”, he asks with a small smile as you yank the paper away. 

Rolling your eyes, you smack it into his chest before kneeling to grab something and taking a seat beside Eddie on your bed. 

“Colleges? But I thought…”

“They’re colleges I thought Eddie would like to work at.”, you mumble with a shrug, your words causing him to finally meet your gaze. “I wanted to help. I found a few that have a really good English program that you’d love and they aren’t too far from Steve or myself.”

The corner of his lips twitch slightly as if he’s about to smile so you take the opportunity to open the album you were holding in your hands and positioning it between you both. 

The metalhead’s chocolate irises take in the different photographs of you in high school with Steve at his side. The coach grinned when he saw you on the track outside the gym and pointed at an image of you with castmates dressed for the play you had just finished. 

Flipping to the next page, both men held their breath as your prom photo appeared with you in a gorgeous dress hugging your dates side. 

“Jesus Christ…you’re so beautiful.”, Steve murmurs.

“Thank you.”

A tear falls down Eddie’s cheek that he quickly wipes away but you see it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to kiss where it had been. 

“I almost killed him, Y/N.”, he whispers. “If you hadn’t been there to remind me that we’re almost out… it took all my energy… if he had hurt you…Hmm.” His lips form into a thin line as he hums, stopping himself from finishing his thought. 

“You protected me, Eddie. You and Steve.”

“But I almost became what they believe I am—”

“But you didn’t. Jared Click is the monster, Edward Munson, not you. I…” You pause to swallow the lump in your throat and he notices, craning his neck to face you. “I was scared of him…I’ve never once been afraid of you. You would never do what he just did.”

“Never, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait for us to get out of here.”

As he starts to sob, you pull him down onto your bed and hug his head to your chest while Steve curls up behind him, pressing his back to his chest. 

####################

One Year Later

“Alright, guys, good job!”, Steve claps, cheering on his team before checking his watch. “Ok, great practice. I want you guys to shower and head home. Enjoy Friday night and tomorrow we head for the semifinals.”

His team whoops excitedly and the man smiles as he starts to jog towards the university campus to get to his office. 

“Good work, Harrington.”, his assistant coach beamed as he tried to keep up. “Want to get a drink tonight to celebrate?”

“I wish I could, Mac, but I have a to go pick up Eddie for our date night tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Dinner and a movie?”

The man grins, swinging open his office door and taking the suit he brought with him off the hanger on his coat rack. 

“We’re actually seeing a play at NYU.”

“Yeah? That campus has some amazing productions and those actors are amazing. I’m never surprised when I hear some award winner got their degree there.” 

Steve’s smile widens as his eyes take in the photo on his desk of you, him, and Eddie making faces at the camera while you hold up the key to your new apartment in the city. 

“They’re doing something called Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf which I had never heard of till our…our girlfriend showed us the movie they made.” The coach blushes at his wording, loving the still foreign feeling of saying that word so freely. “She’s playing one of the leads.”

“Oh…Oh yeah? That’s phenomenal.”, the assistant coach stutters through, not wanting his technical boss and friend to feel uncomfortable. He knew Steve came from a small town and wanted him to know he was safe even though a relationship like his was a bit unorthodox. 

“Well, have fun and we’ll see you tomorrow!”

***

Eddie beams when Steve’s BMW skids into the faculty parking area as he shoves the papers he had been grading into the bag at his side.

“Baby, calm down. We still have an hour.”, the metalhead teases as his boyfriend greets him with a soft kiss before opening his passenger door for him. 

“I know but…”, he pauses as he jogs back around and climbs in. “With traffic and everything, I don’t want us to be late. Y/N’s been working extremely hard on this and—”

The professor’s lips on his cut him off and Steve’s shoulders visibly deflated as Eddie caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. 

“You’re doing that thing again.”, the long-haired man lightly scolds. “We’re fiiiiiiine, sweetheart.”

“I know. She’s just been working so hard on this and I know she’s nervous because this agent guy is going to be there. I want her to know we support her especially after everything she’s done for us.”

The metalhead nods, kissing him again as he intertwines his fingers with his own while the coach begins his short drive to your university.

“How was class today?”

“Oh my God, Steve, you have no idea how wonderful it is to be around students who are actually fucking interested in what I’m teaching and not my fucking background.”, he sighs happily. “Some of the kids noticed my D & D books in my office and asked me to host or sponsor or whatever a club for the school.”

“What? Honey, that’s fantastic! You have people you can be nerdy with.”

“Mhmm.”, Eddie chuckles, glancing out the window as the buildings slowly pass by. “I’m glad we came with her, Steve. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy… If we had let her go… God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Then don’t.”, the man murmurs softly as he raises his partner’s hand to his lips so he could kiss the back. “I’m glad we came with her to. I love being able to tell people you both are mine.”

Eddie leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and in return the coach kisses the top of his curls. 

“Yeah, me to.”

***

“Knock ‘em dead tonight, Janet. Can’t wait to see it for myself when I come visit you guys. Don’t be nervous! You’re an amazing actress. 

Your Rocky, 

Theo.

P.S. Ciara says break a leg!”

You smile at the letter attached to the flowers that were sent to your little dressing area after your play had concluded from your friend and his girlfriend back in Hawkins. 

You were thankful when he told you about her, not wanting to leave him in that small town by himself. 

“Hey, Y/N, you were excellent as always.”, your theater teacher praised as she came up behind you to give you a hug. “You should go see your boys. They won’t stop bragging about you to people they hear talking about your performance.”

You giggle as you grab your (Eddie’s) jacket and sling your duffle bag with your clothes from that day over your shoulder. As you sneak out the side exit, you’re immediately met with the sound of the metalhead’s voice. 

“Yeah, she was running her lines over and over for the past few months. I have no idea how she memorizes all that but, God, she’s brilliant.”

“And beautiful to. Y/N just shines out on that stage.”, Steve adds with a tooth filled smile. 

“Absolutely. I apologize but how do you know her again?”, the man they were speaking to asks and you smile as you scurry up to their little circle.

“They’re my boyfriends. This is Eddie Munson who teaches a literature class over at the community college down the street and Steve Harrington is the head football coach at the college near Columbia.” Both men nod and extend their hands as you introduce them. “And I’m, um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Guys, this is the…agent…I was telling you about.”

“Oh, please, I know exactly who you are and you can call me Arthur especially after the performance you just put on.”

“Thank you.”, you continue to grin as your nervous eyes flick their way. 

“We’re sorry for talking your ear off. We just…we’re very proud of her.”, Steve praises, pressing his fingers into his eyes however when Eddie quickly follows up with, “So, you’re going to sign her to your agency, right?”

The man in front of you laughs as the coach smacks his arm and reaches into his pocket to pull out a card. 

“Come to my office Monday morning and we’ll sort out some logistics. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I may actually have a roll you’d be perfect for. After I sign you to my agency that is.”

“Oh my god…Mr. Wilson…I mean Arthur…I…Thank you! Thank you so much!”, you exclaim as you take the card and jump into his arms. 

“Whoa! Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your weekend. You deserve it.”

The moment he walks away, you turn to meet their ecstatic faces as Eddie wraps his limbs around your waist and hugs you tightly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s fucking amazing. We’re so proud of you.”

“Very proud.”, Steve grins, pulling you into his embrace as soon as his partner lets you go. “You did so well up there tonight, honey.”

“I heard you both clapping for me.”

“Yeah because you were fucking awesome.”, the metalhead swoons, taking your hand in his. “Come on, baby. We’ve got a whole celebratory thing planned.”

#################

While you were staring out into the New York skyline from your spot at the table on the balcony of the top floor restaurant they had brought you to, Eddie and Steve were staring at you. 

The wind blew your hair in just the right way and even with the metalhead’s jacket keeping you warm, it didn’t hide the gorgeous spaghetti strap, olive green dress that accentuated all your gorgeous curves. 

“It’s so beautiful tonight.”, you happily sigh, turning to grab your champagne glass and realizing what they were focusing on. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”, Eddie compliments. “We were watching you up there on that stage and I thought… ‘Damn. That beautiful, talented, sexy, adorable woman…is ours.’”

Heat rises to your cheeks and both men chuckle lightly. 

“That right there has been my favorite part about being able to take you out on dates.”, Steve teases, pointing your way. “Seeing you get all shy and nervous like that.”

“Oh really, Harrington? Because you didn’t get all blushy on our first date or any dates after?”, the metalhead jokes, coming to your defense. 

“What was your first date?”

“Eddie was still kind of healing from being in the hospital and going through all the chaos with the legal system so I wanted to take him somewhere calming.”

“He took me to the observatory just outside of town.”

“Not because I was embarrassed or anything.”, the coach adds quickly. “It’s just cause Hawkins doesn’t have much to do and I didn’t want to do the normal ‘dinner and movie’”.

“We laid under the projection and just talked.”

“Did he make a move that night?”

“It’s Steve Harrington, baby, of course he made a move.”, Eddie laughed making his boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Look, we almost died!”, the man defends before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing his glass. “I didn’t want to waste any more time not being with you.”

The metalhead smiles as he takes his partners hand and yanks him closer to softly kiss his lips. 

“Oh. I got you guys something. Well…it’s for all of us but…” Your words stumble out as you reach for your bag and dig inside, pausing to face them before hugging it to your chest. “So…I, um, ever since you guys told me about…you know…Vecna and everything…I’ve always thought about how much you two have been there for me…like truly been there…even before I met you.”

Their irises soften as they listen to you continue and the metalhead reaches out under the table to place his hand on your knee hoping to calm your nerves as you try to get your words out. 

“You two spent 10 years standing watch over an entire town to keep those assholes safe, you protected me from Martin and his father, and even here in New York I know you’re always watching out for me. I, um, I know you two knew each other before you met me and were together for much longer, but, um…”

“Honey, what are you trying to say?”, Steve asks, his own nerves starting to bubble in his stomach. 

“You know even though we were together before we met you, it doesn’t change how much we love you, right?”

“I know, Eddie, baby. I know. I just…” Reaching inside your purse, you produce a little rectangular box and place it on the table in front of them. “I know that if you two could have gotten married long ago you would have. Now if three people could get married, you’d do that to…I just…we’ve been here for a year and together for almost two and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

At your last sentence, the coach leaned across the table to take the box in his hand and slowly open it to show his partner the three black rings with gold lining the inside. A little smirk flickers on the long-haired man’s face as he pulls the one that’s nestled in the middle out of its place. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you asking us to marry you?” You cover your face in embarrassment as they try to contain their laughter at your cuteness. “No, no, baby. Come on. Continue.”

“I’m trying to say…! That if I could marry you…I would…and I wanted to show you guys that while saying thank you…for keeping me safe for all those years.”

Eddie grins as he nods, suddenly sliding down on one knee and taking your hand in his. 

“I’d die for you, princess, if it meant protecting you.”, he murmured, pushing the ring on to your finger and kissing the back of your hand before removing one of his to replace it with the one you got him. When he tries to guide his skeleton ring on your thumb, it easily slides off being too big for your hand.

Steve pats his shoulder, replacing his partners spot on his knee in front of you, and invades your space to unclasp the necklace around you, tenderly kissing your cheek as he does so. You and Eddie watch as he slides his boyfriend’s ring onto the chain before removing his college class ring to add to it.

Once the metalhead has it firmly attached to you once more, your palm touches the warm jewelry pressing it to your chest.

“You don’t know how much this means to us.”, he whispers, pushing his new ring onto his finger and taking your free hand in his. “You always talk about us saving you but, baby, you saved us. Thank you.”

You tilt towards him to kiss his lips and he lifts you out of your chair to hug you tightly. 

“I’d marry you both in a heartbeat.”

As soon as he sets you down, Eddie takes you into his arms and threads his fingers through your hair. 

“I’d marry you both to.”, he confesses, kissing the top of your head. “Then we could fly somewhere awesome for a honeymoon.”

Both men smile when you laugh. 

“Who says we need to fly anywhere for a honeymoon?”

***

Steve’s breaths heat your lips as he pants heavily above you pushed up on his palms as he steadily but firmly thrusts his hips, his eyes never straying from yours as he continues to build you towards another orgasm. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck. You look so sexy like this.”, Eddie whispered in your ear from his place on the living room floor beside you, his arm laying loosely across your sweaty chest as his thumb caressed your temple. “You said this was our honeymoon so you have to give us another one, sweetheart.”

Your eyes close as your head turns allowing you to be nose to nose with him and he hungerly kisses your lips. 

“If you cum again, we’ll let you take a break and you can watch Mr. Harrington fuck me.” At his murmured words, you loudly moaned as Steve’s head hung and he picked up his rhythm, slamming his cock roughly into your cunt. “Yeah? You’d like that? Fuck such a dirty girl. Still that little slut we met, right?”

“Ohma…God…”

“Still our slut.” Your eyebrows furrowed as Eddie’s fingers curled in your hair, holding your forehead to his as he watched you come undone. Your body shook as you whimpered, your pussy quivering around the man inside you who continued to fuck you through it. “Good girl. Very good. You’re alright, baby. Take a little break. Do you need water?”

“No…no, Sir. I’m…M’ok.”

Steve practically growled as he pulled out of you to climb on top of his partner, grabbing his hips and lifting him up onto his knees. Rolling onto your side, you smile with half lidded eyes as you watch the metalhead groan loudly as the coach shoves his tongue into his entrance. Eddie’s forehead presses to the floor as one of his arms reach between his legs to lazily stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuck, I love your mouth, pretty boy.”

It surprised even you how fast Steve hovers over him, his chest pressed to his back as he grabs his hair and yanks it back. 

“Who am I?”, he grunts, the long-haired boy smiling defiantly as his boyfriend grinds his dick along his behind. “Who am I in here?”

“Mr. Harrington…fuck, baby…”

With his free hand, Steve grasped his cock and they both mewled as he carefully guided himself into the man beneath him. 

“That’s right.”, he breathed, his palm wrapping around his throat as he placed a kiss on his shoulder. “That’s fucking right. Open your eyes, little boy and k-keep them on her.”

When he does what he’s told, your lips meet his as the coach pushes himself up fully onto his knees and sets a rough pace while pounding his cock deep into the man he loves. 

“Shit…you’re just as much of a slut as she is…aren’t you?” When all Eddie does is nod, Steve spanks him hard. “Answer me.”

“I’m just as much—mmm—of a slut as she is.”

“As who?”

“Our girl.”

At his words, Steve grunted with approval as he chased his high desperate for a release after feeling you cum around him. Your hand slid under your former professor and wrapped around his length to stroke him. 

His eyes that had been glued to you, abruptly darkened.

“After he fills me up, Y/N, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore tomorrow. Everyone at his game w-will be looking at you and they’ll know…They’ll know you’re taken care of.” 

While Eddie spoke Steve’s pace had quickened to the point that the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the apartment. A strangled moan left his lips as he fell flat against his partner pushing him fully against the ground and rolled his hips as he came; his fingers intertwining with Eddie’s as he panted into his tussled head of hair. 

You delicately patted his sweaty shoulder and without you saying a word, he fell to the side of the metalhead who didn’t waste a moment, scaling your body and lifting your legs around his waist before guiding himself into your sore and swollen heat. 

True to his word, he set an aggressive rhythm causing both of you to emit repeated ahs while his lips attached to your neck. You clung to his back as he sucked a mark into your skin, soothing it with his tongue while your pussy clenched tightly around him. 

“Please…please, Mr. Munson…I wanna…”

“Tell me.”

“I want to…feel you…cum.”

“I’ll—fuck—I’ll cum when you do.” You shake your head and he grumbles roughly, gripping your throat as his angry eyes meet yours. “I wasn’t asking, Y/N. I’ll give you my cum when your pussy is fucking begging me for it.”

Your legs started to fall as your back arched but his other palm hastily grabbed one of your thighs to keep at least one in place as your body began to tremble. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, g-give it to me.”

Collapsing on top of you, Eddie fully incased you in his warmth as your nails ran up his back to cling to his shoulders. Your orgasm washed over you like a freight train while you continuously garbled his name into the nook of his neck. As your core continued to quiver around him, you felt his momentum stutter before his release painted your walls. 

“Ow, ow…”, you whimper as he tries to delicately pull out of you. 

“I know, I know, baby. There we go…Good girl. Come on, let’s go take a bath.”

“I got her, honey. You go on ahead; the water’s already running.”, Steve coos in a soft voice as he helps the man he loves to his feet.

“Hey, maybe I need to be coddled to, mister.”

You smile as the coach smirks, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and following his boyfriend into the bathroom. After you kiss his cheek, he places you on the edge of the tub and lifts Eddie bridal style eliciting a small, surprised squeak from the professor.

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“Mhmm. Do you need anything, my love? Water or some ice before we clean you both?”

Eddie theatrically sighs, throwing his head back as he whines, “Noooo, sire. I think I shall be ok but the princess and I will require a kiss or two.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve kisses his lips and lowers him carefully down in the warm, steamy water in front of where you had placed yourself before moving over to kiss you as well. Reaching behind him on the banister, the metalhead grabbed his pack of cigarettes and flashed them towards you, silently asking you if it was alright which you nod. 

“Fuck, man. It’s going to be snowing within a month or so I bet.”, Eddie relays after opening the nearby window and lighting the stick between his fingers. 

Hearing you hiss, his head immediately turns your way to see you grabbing the other man’s wrist as he cleaned between your legs. 

“Sorry. Hurts.”

Steve nods, kissing your temple as he murmurs into your ear, continuing to clean you as you hold his forearm to ground you. 

After blowing smoke out the window, the metalhead lightly grips your chin and tilts forward to softly kiss your lips. 

“I remember that first night, you winced like that and grabbed my wrist. You looked so small… I knew then I wanted to take care of you.”

“Oh? Is that why you two talked about being afraid to be with me?”, you tease causing both men to exchange a look. “I was drifting in and out so I only heard parts of it. Something about cake and me not wanting to be seen with ‘old men’.”

Eddie narrows his eyes your way but Steve’s palm tenderly reaching to clean him blindsides him slightly as he turns to face him and is met with his lips. 

“Some of the wording is mushed together but…”, he chuckles, their foreheads leaning against each other. “Eddie was afraid of the career aspect as well as our stupid little town. I thought maybe you’d wake up and realize you wanted more than a small-town life hidden away with bitter coach and professor.”

“I don’t get a negative adjective to?”, the metalhead jokes. “Former fugitive, pariah, trailer trash demon worshipper?”

“Stop.”, she growled a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “I never saw you that way.”

“And I never saw you as bitter.”

“Me neither. I never saw you both as ‘old men’ either. I just saw you as…mine.”, you shrug as your tone drops a bit. “That’s why what you said to me hurt so much but I never wanted to make things complicated.”

“Can’t really do that in our relationship can we, baby?”, Steve coos softly, standing to his feet so he can carefully lift you out of the tub and dry you off. “Alright, wait here while I go get the other baby.”

You giggle as you watch him from your bed swivel around to hurry towards Eddie who had already begun getting out of the water before the coach quickly wraps a towel around him and picks him up in his strong arms. 

“We saw you that way to.”, the metalhead adds as he pulls you to his side. “Ours.”

“I know. I heard you one day after rehearsal talking about how you wanted to spank me because of Theo even though YOU pushed me away—”

“Jesus, just a little eavesdropper, huh, Munson. Sounds like there’s a few punishments that need to be doled out.”

You smirk as he tugs one of his track shirts over your head and slides Eddie’s boxers up your legs. 

“Did you just interrupt me?”

Steve beams wide showing off all his teeth as he places his arms around your hips. 

“What are you going to do about it?” You bite your bottom lip before tilting to kiss his. “Did you need ice or anything?”

“Not right now, Mr. Harrington, thank you.”

Turning to focus on Eddie, he can’t help but roll his eyes as his partner bats his lashes his way. 

“Do you need ice or some water, honey?”

“No, Mr. Harrington, I’m all set.”, he teases in a high pitch voice, lightly mocking you while Steve pulls another pair of boxers up his legs. 

Just as he did with you, the coach circled his arms around the long-haired boy’s hips but leaned towards his tummy to place a soft kiss along his scars that has his features faltering slightly. 

“Thank you for always being there, Eddie. I love that now I can show you both off and I don’t have to hide how much I love you.”

Smiling, the man circles his limbs around his neck and kisses his cheek. 

“I love you to…but God why are you so obsessed with me.” After pushing his partner away, the metalhead focuses on you while Steve goes on the hunt for some shorts. “I love you to, baby. I agree with him. I’m glad we can show you off and take you on dates like tonight. Tomorrow you’re going to sit right next to me and I’m going to hold your hand all night. Or get handsy if you wear one of those sexy skirts. I’m only human.”

You laugh at his joke as you fall back against the pillows and pull him on top of you. Your fingers trace his cheek to his lips and he softly grins before laying down to rest his head below your chin. 

Steve comes out of the bathroom, pausing when he notices you both laying this way with your hand tenderly petting his partner’s curls. After turning off the lights, he climbs in beside you and brings the covers up over you three. 

“I’ve always loved how soft you are with him. Not that I’m not but…”, he whispers, kissing your shoulder as he pulls you both closer to his chest. “Thank you, Y/N, for being you.”

You smile at his groggy tone as your eyes watch him fall asleep. Eddie had already beat him to it, his steady breathing signally to you he was out. Since moving out of Hawkins, they both seemed at peace, not just out in the world but as they slept. 

Those first couple of months they did struggle; Eddie waking up screaming about someone taking you and Steve bolting upright to glare out the window to make sure “the sky isn’t red”. Slowly, the tossing and turning stopped followed by the nightmares. The first night they both slept peacefully, they woke up with bright eyes and a jovial energy, throwing some clothes on you so you three could get out to explore the city. 

They ate more, smiled more, and even opened up more than they thought possible. You were so thankful that you could experience this with them and see them grow after being stifled by a town that didn’t appreciate them. 

After a year so much had changed for the better and you couldn’t imagine what your future held. All you knew was as long as you with them, you were safe and happy.  

###############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @myherometalhead  @debkk16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover @strangerthingsfangirling

@1deverland @checosbluespring @twirls827

[neobunnydoy]

Deep Sleep | Jung Jaehyun (M)

You've been having trouble sleeping and jaehyun's determined to solve your problem. pairing jock! jung jaehyun x tutor! fem! reader

genre and content college au, kinda friends with benefits (?), fluff, SMUT MDNI, unprotected sex (be responsible pls), soft dom! jaehyun, pwp but with feelings

word count 3.3k

author’s note can ya’ll tell I’ve been having trouble sleeping………

The study guide laid open on the floor, your laptop screen dimming from inactivity, the only light in the room now a soft, golden glow from your desk lamp. You sat cross-legged, spine slightly hunched, a highlighter limp in your fingers. Another yawn slipped out, long and silent, your eyes blinking slowly like they had to remember how.

Jaehyun noticed.

You’d been unusually quiet tonight. No nagging. No dramatic sighs when he got an answer wrong. No sarcastic quips about how he might just fail Econ and take you down with him. Instead, you looked like you might drop dead any second.

"Baby, you okay?" he asked gently. You blinked slowly, looking up like it took effort to focus. “Yeah. Sorry. Just been having trouble sleeping lately.”

He frowned. “Why? Is there something going wrong?”

You smiled a little. Tired, but fond. He was always like this. Gentle. Curious. Even when you were just partners for a class project last semester, he’d stuck around. Jaehyun, the literal captain of the basketball team, campus heartthrob, the one whose name floated around with rumors and girls’ giggles… had somehow become your study date partner. And now your actual friend.

“It’s nothing. Just... student council stuff,” you muttered, waving it off.

His frown deepened. “Are they working you too hard again? I keep telling you, you don’t have to do everything by yourself. Can’t you just sit back and tell your minions to handle things?”

You huffed out a laugh at his expression. In his head, being the president of the student council was just you sitting at the head of the table bossing people around. Which, you guessed, some presidents probably do. But you were an overly ambitious perfectionist, and this role of yours? You took it maybe a little too seriously. So no, bossing around your “minions” was not an option. “Yeah, but still. The festival’s coming up, and it’s just a lot. Not really the work, more like… the pressure I guess. Can’t seem to turn my brain off even when I try.”

Jaehyun pouted at that, hated hearing you suffer like this. “Well you have to sleep, still.”

“I know, but I’ve tried everything....” And that, Jaehyun took as a challenge. He was always so competitive about the most trivial things, you could immediately hear the gears in his head turning.

“What about hot milk? Chamomile tea? I can go get some—”

“Tried it.”

“Okay, back to basics. Counting sheep?”

“I counted to a thousand once.”

“Scented candles? Podcasts?”

“Jaehyun.”

“Oh, what about ASMR?”

You gave him a look. Trying to tell him that there was literally nothing he could say that you hadn’t tried already.

He groaned. “Baby, come on. When was the last time you actually slept?”

You hesitated, pressing your fingers to your temple like you had to calculate. “I don’t know. Two weeks ago? I passed out after you dragged me to that charity run…”

He looked horrified. “Baby, that was almost a month ago.”

“Oh—really?” Your eyes widened. “Oh god. I… I don’t even know anymore.”

“Okay, wait, that's good. So you’re saying the marathon worked…” he said slowly, straightening. “Maybe we just gotta get your body moving.”

You gave him a blank look. “Jae, I don’t even have the energy to stand for more than 5 minutes. There’s no way I’m running another 5K.”

He sighed, recognizing the fault in his logic. He was wracking his brain again—and he was thinking so hard you almost let out a laugh. You should tell him to stop worrying. And honestly? At this point, you were convinced you were already past saving.

Then suddenly—like a light bulb went off over his head—you saw his eyes widen as he turned to you.

“Didn’t you pass out after we had sex?”

Your body froze.

Your brain literally short-circuited for a few seconds. 

He had said it so casually, like it was just another memory. Not something you’d been trying to bury in the deepest parts of your brain ever since it happened.

It had been a one-time thing. A slip. You’d both had drinks. You’d blurted out that you’d never had an orgasm before. And Jaehyun—stupidly competitive, golden-retriever Jaehyun—took it as a personal challenge.

He won.

And then neither of you brought it up again.

Until now.

“Wha—Jae. What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying,” he said matter-of-factly, “that it worked last time. You passed out like a minute after I made you come. You’re welcome by the way.” You continue staring at him, not knowing what to say. 

He smiled softly, hands patting the top of your head. “Look, I’m not saying we have to. But baby, you haven’t slept in weeks. That’s not okay. And I mean... maybe I can help.” Fuck, he’s actually serious. You were now realizing that no, you hadn’t magically fallen asleep and started dreaming. Jaehyun was actually sitting in front of you, offering to fuck you to sleep.

Was this a bad idea? Did you even have the energy to say no? You’d been desperate for the past month, trying everything to get a good night’s sleep. God knows you needed it.

But what ultimately made you actually consider it… was the way he was looking at you. He wasn’t joking or saying it to get into your pants. You could see the genuine concern, the quiet resolve. Like he would do anything for you.

You swallowed. “I mean… I—okay.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows perked up like he didn’t expect you to agree. “Yeah?” You sighed in defeat. “At this point, I’ll try anything.”

He smiled, then stood up. “Okay. Go lay down.”

“Wait, now?” Your voice came out higher than you expected, cracking slightly at the end.

Because suddenly—it hit you. He was standing there, already tugging you gently to your feet. This is happening.

It had been literal months since you slept together. Months since you’d slept with anyone. And this wasn’t supposed to happen again.

Except now… it was.

Your thighs instinctively pressed together, the memory sending a hot, low ache right to your core. Your pulse kicked up, fluttering in your neck, in your wrists, in every inch of skin he was about to touch.

“We haven’t even finished this last chapter yet.” you continued, still trying to stall for more time.

“Baby.” He reached for your hand, gently pulling you up. “You think I can focus on test prep knowing you’re one more yawn away from a coma?”

He started guiding you to your bed. “Now be a good girl and let me put you to sleep,”

You froze.

That sentence should not make your knees weak. But it did. Badly.

You slowly sank down on your bed, eyes darting anywhere but his. Suddenly not having the courage to look up. Still shocked at how... determined he was. One thing about Jaehyun—he was competitive, and when he set his mind to something, he was going to get it done.

But you were just... nervous. And Jaehyun could read you like a book. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Nervous?” he asked.

You nodded slightly. “It’s just… been a while.”

“That’s okay. We'll go slow, yeah?”  His voice dropped to a murmur, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. You don’t have to do anything.”

You barely managed a breathy, “Okay…” before he gently eased you onto the bed, pressing you into the mattress with the soft weight of his body, his lips slotting over yours for the first time in months.

He kissed you like he cared. Like you mattered. His lips moved slow, his hands cradling your jaw, thumb brushing beneath your ear. His body angled over yours, coaxing you back into the pillows, one kiss after another until the tension in your chest began to unravel.

“Let me,” he whispered against your mouth, already sliding his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “You don’t have to lift a finger tonight, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as he eased the fabric up over your waist, then higher—slow, steady, reverent. His palms grazed your sides like he was memorizing you all over again.

And when he finally pulled your shirt over your head, his breath caught. Revealing nothing underneath. 

“Knew it.”

Your cheeks flushed, chest rising with a sharp inhale. “I—It’s just… we were studying, I didn’t—”

“I know, baby” he said quickly, cutting you off, voice softer now. “I know you’re not teasing me on purpose.” He shaked his head, murmuring to himself. “You don’t even realize what you're doing to me.”

Your stomach fluttered, thighs pressing together instinctively.

Then he dipped his head and licked a slow stripe over your nipple. Your back arched with a gasp, hips twitching beneath him.

He chuckled softly against your skin, closing his mouth around you, tongue flicking before sucking gently. His free hand came up to cup your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmured, switching sides, lips wet and warm. “Love how pretty you sound for me…”

He circled your nipple again with his tongue, and your whole body trembled in response.

"Jae—" Your fingers tangled in his hair, breath caught in your throat. Every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his palm sent pleasure crackling down your spine. You could barely think—barely breathe—under the weight of his attention.

His mouth found your lips again as his hands slid beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, yeah? Tell me if anything feels too much.”

You nodded.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers sliding under the hem of your underwear, finding your clit like he’d done it a thousand times. The first touch made your whole body twitch, breath snagging hard in your throat. You didn’t even realize you were clenching your fists until you felt the sheets bunched up in your grip.

His fingers moved slow—gentle circles, featherlight touches—drawing your arousal out until your hips were tilting helplessly into every pass of his hand.

“So wet already, baby.”

Your cheeks burned. “Jae…” your voice came out breathless, cracked and needy.

He kept working you open, fingers finding its way inside you, thrusting slow and steady, never too much. Just enough to keep you hovering. Your back arched into him as his mouth returned to your neck, your hands fisting his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Doing so good for me,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses between every word. “So pretty like this, baby. So fucking soft.”

The pleasure was building too fast. Your thighs shook around his hand, hips grinding down like your body had taken over. He knew exactly what you needed—when to press harder, when to ease back. And he never once looked away from your face.

“J-Jaehyun—please—” You gasped, voice pitching when he curled his fingers just right.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” You couldn’t even answer.

Your body gave out first. The pleasure hit all at once—hot, sharp, and overwhelming. You came with a cry, thighs clenching, back arching as the waves of release rolled through you. Jaehyun didn’t stop—he slowed, fingers gentling, coaxing you through it as your body trembled beneath him.

Your lashes fluttered. Dazed. Breathing uneven.

“You came so fast for me, baby,” he said, voice soft as he nuzzled your cheek. “Guess you really needed that, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still catching your breath, your body still tingling. But he didn’t move away. His hand slid down your side, grounding you, soothing you. Then he leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips—slow, sweet, lingering.

“Sleepy?” he asked, lips still grazing yours.

“Yeah…” you murmured. “I think so.”

“You think so?” He leaned back with a teasing scoff. “Yeah, no. That’s not gonna cut it.” He sat up, stripping off his shirt. “Let’s make sure you pass out for real this time, yeah?”

You blinked, already flushed again as his hands slid down to tug your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. He tossed them to the side without looking.

“You need my dick to really knock you out, don’t you?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

He looked up at you, smirking.

“Is that it, baby?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out—your brain scrambling, your body still floating.

“Say it,” he said, tone warm but firm. “Tell me what you want.”

Your throat tightened. Your heart was pounding again. He was so close—so steady, so patient—but he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said it.

You swallowed. “Please,” you whispered.

Jaehyun leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth—slow and deliberate.

“Hmm, please what?” he asked softly, dragging his lips down to your jaw. 

You felt your whole body light up again, breath catching in your throat.

“Please… I want you,” you breathed. “Need you, Jaehyun.”

“Good girl.”

He removed the rest of his clothing, then climbed over you. His lips capturing yours in one last kiss—deep, needy, before he pulled back to look at you. 

“Deep breath, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to soothe the tension that had built up in your body. “I’ve got you.”

His hand cupped your cheek as he positioned himself carefully, and then, finally, you felt him pressing slowly into you. 

You gasped, your body instinctively arching as you felt the stretch. He pulled out before thrusting himself deeper this time. You could feel every inch of him now. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjusted.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice tight, strained as he fought to hold himself together. “Just like that, baby… Just like that.”

He moved slowly, carefully. His thumb brushed over your ribs, his lips trailing tender kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your temple.

“You’re doing so good, baby” he breathed, his voice thick with the strain of holding back. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Jae—” you whimpered, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. “Feels so—so full…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice strained. “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good for me.”

You clenched around him, body pulsing without meaning to, and he let out a guttural moan, jaw tightening as he tried to control himself. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, too breathless to speak, but your hands clawed at his back, and your hips lifted again, chasing his movements, begging for more.

“Use your words, baby,” he said gently, lips brushing your cheek. “Please,” you whined, eyes glassy. “Please, Jae—faster.”

That made him groan—long and low, right against your throat.

He started to move. Faster, more deliberate. Hands gripping the inside of your thigh keeping you open for him. Each roll of his hips hit that perfect spot, coaxing desperate little moans from your mouth every time he bottomed out.

“Ah—Jae—feels so good, I—” Your words tumbled out, useless, wrecked.

“I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.” He kissed you like he was trying to steady you, but he was shaking too—cursing under his breath with every clench of your walls around him. “You feel so fucking good—fuck.”

His hand on your thigh were gripping it a little tighter, using it for leverage as he began thrusting a little harder, a little deeper.

You gasped, head falling back against the pillow. Your body was already fluttering again, overstimulated, the pleasure rising too fast.

“Shit—baby—are you gonna come again?” he rasped, eyes locked on your face.

You nodded, choking on a sob. “I can’t—can’t help it—feels s’good—” “I know,” he gasped, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words worked like magic. Every ounce of worry, every bit of the pressure in your chest, started to melt away. You felt the weight in your heart lift, like he was taking it off of you with each slow, precise movement.

And then, just like that, your body gave in—shuddering beneath him as the pleasure washed over you in a crashing wave.Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper as you shattered beneath him, body pulsing, crying out his name.

“Shit—fuck—baby—” Jaehyun choked on a moan as your walls clenched around him, dragging him straight over the edge. His rhythm faltered, muscles locking up, arms tightening around you.

He buried himself deep, hips pressed flush to yours as he came with a low, guttural sound—his release spilling inside you in hot, slow pulses.

He slowed his hips, gradually easing down, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could reach. Your chest rose and fell, fast at first—but soon it evened out. Deepened. Your fingers went limp against his shoulder.

Jaehyun stilled.

“Baby?” he whispered, brushing his nose against your temple.

No response. Just soft, warm breath at his collarbone. Completely still.

He smiled.

You were out cold.

Carefully, like he was handling glass, Jaehyun slid out of you and gathered you into his arms. You made the tiniest sound—something like a sigh—but didn’t wake. He guided your body gently, positioning you to lie half on top of him, one arm curled around his middle, your cheek against his chest.

Then he reached for the blanket, tugging it up to your shoulders and tucking you in. His fingers brushed the damp strands of hair from your forehead, smoothing them back with quiet care.

And he just… looked at you for a moment.

You looked so peaceful. No tension in your brow. No pinched exhaustion in your features. Just… soft.

God, you were so soft.

He didn’t know exactly when he started caring about you like this. When tutoring sessions turned into late-night check-ins, or when “project partner” stopped being the only thing you were. But it happened fast. Maybe too fast. And quietly.

You made it easy.

Everyone said Jaehyun was the popular one, the guy everyone knew. But knowing someone and being known were different. Most people liked the idea of him. Liked how he looked in a jersey or how his voice sounded during a campus party.

But you?

You saw him.

Beyond the game schedules and the girls that flirted too loudly. You stayed up with him when he panicked before a test. You brought extra pens. You shared your notes. You actually gave a damn whether he passed or failed, not because it affected your grade—but because you wanted him to do well. You believed he could.

He’d never had someone like that.

Ever since he met you, he saw you doing everything for everyone. Fixing things. Helping. Showing up. You didn’t know how to stop giving. But never once had he seen you give that same effort to yourself.

Until tonight.

Until you let him take care of you—even if it was ridiculous, even if it meant getting you to sleep the only way he knew how.

Jaehyun smiled to himself, heart swelling as he looked down at you.

You were completely dead to the world, one leg tossed over his thigh, your lips parted, hair a mess, breathing slow and steady. The cutest little expression on your face—like you were finally at peace.

He brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good night, baby.”

Then he wrapped both arms around you and finally—finally—closed his eyes, too.

[lqveharrington]

could u do darry x reader, where they’re lowk like megara and hercules.

(i saw someone mention it applying to them once and now i can’t stop thinking about it)

like reader’s this independent woman figure, who has this soft spot for darry. darry’s just a sap when it comes to her, he try’s to impress her and stuff like that.

idk i thought this was cute, please and thank you !!

Damsel in Distress | D.C.

summary: aka darry believing you’re a classic D.I.D.—Damsel in Distress.

pairing: darrel ‘darry’ curtis x fem!reader

includes: fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, darry being a whipped mess when it comes to independent women, ponyboy being a matchmaker

a/n: i live for this, heheheh

Darrel parked his truck right outside of the oh-so familiar high school that brought him so many memories—good and bad. This time, he wasn't here for a football game or a quick practice, but for his kid-brother's parent-teacher conferences. He remembered their parents dragging him into the school for his own conferences, a guilty look on his face every time a teacher would tell them his grades were slipping a little too far from the passing line.

He shook his head free from old memories and looked over at Ponyboy as he pulled the keys out of the ignition, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Most teachers praised him for his brains and it made Darrel feel like he was actually doing something right for once.

"You alright, kid?" Darrel put a hand on his shoulder and snapped Ponyboy out of a small trance, earning a quick nod. "You don't needa come if you don't wanna. You can stay in the truck."

"No, I want to." Ponyboy nodded. "Besides, I want to be there when you meet the new teacher."

Darrel raised a brow and caught the tiniest smirk on his brother's face, "You ought to stop hanging out with Dally sometimes."

Ponyboy shrugged and hopped out of the car, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I'm just saying, you might actually like her. She seems exactly like your type."

"And what exactly is my type, Pony?" Darrel glanced at him in amusement and wrapped an arm around him, chuckling when Ponyboy groaned and pushed him off. "Aw, don't be like—"

Before Darrel could finish his sentence, a voice cut through the air—loud and clear. Both Curtis men looked over at the entrance of the school, catching a couple of soc boys getting scolded by a teacher.

A teacher Darrel had never seen before.

He assumed he knew all teachers at the high school. After all, he was there not too long ago. But you were definitely a new face. One he couldn’t look away from.

"Boys! You cannot be doing this during conferences!"

You crossed your arms and looked at them in disappointment, ready for their complaints. Almost as if you queued them, the boys began to whine like children, arguing with you about having nothing to do while their parents were inside with their teachers. You simply nodded and listened, although they pulled this routine every time they were caught.

Ponyboy grinned and turned to his brother to tell him that you were the teacher he was talking about when he found Darrel already missing from his spot beside him. Ponyboy creased his brows in confusion before he heard Darrel's tenor voice from where you stood.

"I'm sorry, do we have a problem here?" He looked down at the boys, brow raised expectantly like a father scolding his children for being disruptive.

Your lips parted—almost offended that this... man came over to defend you. You were no need for defending at all. Did you look like a damsel in distress? You had everything sorted out already when he came over. I’m fact, he just made things worse, really.

"I'm sorry—who are you?"

Your question was left on heard as the boys started their complaints from the beginning, this time toward the man who simply strolled into your conversation. You rolled your eyes and stepped back, hand to your chest when you stumbled back into someone.

You whipped around and relaxed when you saw it was only one of your students. "Hey, Ponyboy. Are you here for your parent-teacher conferences?"

He nodded, "I tagged along with my brother."

You smiled at the thought of finally meeting the infamous eldest brother Ponyboy rarely spoke about before pausing, looking back toward the man who seemed to be telling your students off now. "That doesn't happen to be Superman over there, is it?"

"Oh, it is." Ponyboy grinned almost maliciously, making you sigh and look away from the scene in front of you.

"Unbelievable." You murmured and picked at your nails. mentally cursing yourself when you picked at a hangnail.

You had to admit, you were… attracted to Ponyboy’s brother. Maybe more visually than emotionally, but his looks definitely boosted the appeal and you were yet to talk to him properly.

So… Just maybe.

It was about another minute or so of Darrel reprimanding the three boys before he returned to his brother, eyes slightly widening when he found you talking quietly with Ponyboy about god knows what.

Darrel cleared his throat and gained your attention, his voice higher than Ponyboy had ever heard it. "Hopefully those boys won't give you anymore trouble, Miss, uh—"

"Y/N. My students and their... parents call me Miss Jones." You ignore his outstretched hand and pull your hair back away from one side of your head, frowning at the split-ends before looking back up. "So, do you have a name? Or should I continue to wonder what Ponyboy's jacked brother is called?"

"Well uh, I'm, um, uh—" Darrel stuttered with a red face when you acknowledged him with a name he wasn’t expecting, his sweaty hands wiping at his jeans.

Ponyboy snorted at the sight. It was absolute gold to see his older brother so hot and bothered by a woman—especially when he’s been wanting to set Darrel up with you for so long.

"Are you always that—" You looked at him up and down, brow raised expectantly. "—Articulate?"

When he didn’t respond, you turned to leave causing Ponyboy to nudge his brother in the stomach. He would be damned to see his brother fumble over one little interaction—the introduction of names to be more precise.

"Darrel. My—" He cleared his throat, voice no longer as high as it was earlier. He scratched the back of his neck before you spun back around to face him, "My name is Darrel. Darry for short."

You hummed and stared at him for a second, eyes searching his face for anything that might be an outlier in such a perfect figure. "Darry, huh?"

He nodded almost mindlessly as you repeated his name. You were so… beautiful and he couldn’t believe you were standing before him. It made him question how much time he spent with the boys sometimes if he couldn’t handle a simple interaction.

To be fair, he thought you were the best thing that ever happened to him today.

You gave him one last proper look, eyes meeting his blue-green ones. "I think I prefer Superman."

Ponyboy grinned at how fast Darrel burned bright red, knowing that nickname from a woman meant something else compared to when any of the boys called him that.

"So, uh, what'd those boys for you to, you know, scold them like that?" Darrel asked, tucking his hands under his arms to stop them from moving so frantically.

You sigh and wave a dismissive hand, "You know how fourteen-year-olds are. If they can't bother someone, they have to wreck havoc somewhere else." You look at Ponyboy, a cheeky smile displayed on your lips. "Pones here can explain it to you later."

Ponyboy's sneaky grin instantly dropped into a frown, causing you to hold back your laughter.

"Anyway, I gotta go and tend to the rest of my students and their parents." You say and dust your hands, "Thanks for everything, Darry. It's been a real, slice."

You saluted him with a flourish and turn to head back into the building. But before you could pull the door open, his voice lulled you back, the question making your heart ache in slight disbelief.

"Wait!" Darrel called out, causing Ponyboy to look over at him in surprise. "Don't you think you need help with wrangling all those kids?"

You huff as your hand tightened around the handle, a small smile decorating your face at how this man was trying to desperately impress you by proving how capable he was. And maybe—just maybe—it was a working a little on you.

You spin back around and put your hands on your hips, eyes wide in a playful manner. "I'll be alright. I'm a tough girl."

He tilts his head and grins at you, unknowing that his face was as red as the cherries on Ponyboy’s sundaes. Funnily enough, your face was also as red as his, sending him a smile that Darrel swore gave him a toothache.

"I'll see you two in my classroom in a few." You say quietly and nod your head toward him.

As you turned away to enter the school, you felt your face warm, putting the back of your hands to your face to cool yourself off. God, you were going to kill Ponyboy for having a brother that could instantly tarnish your reputation as the only teacher who could calm down any argument between the socs and greasers during lunch.

Both Darrel and Ponyboy watched you leave, this time, Ponyboy snapped his fingers in front of his older brother's face. If Ponyboy had to describe the way his brother looked like right now, it would be whipped.

"She's definitely something..." Darrel trailed off, rubbing the bottom of his jaw in awe.

"That's the teacher I wanted you to meet, Darry." Ponyboy shook his head in amusement. "I'll take it that you like her."

"Shut up, Ponyboy." He pushed his brother into the school and did his best to stop his face from reddening any more than it already was.

It was going to be a long parent-teacher conference with you.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[eddieisashifter]

long post ahead . . . cw: suggestive material mentioned . . .

“I hate him,” Edmund declared without a moment of hesitation.

He was pacing across his dorm with his hands steepled in front of his face like a detective struggling to crack a very specific case. His boots shuffled against the hardwood floor as he didn’t even bother to pick his feet up fully, mind spinning at a million miles a minute.

“No you don’t,” Barty said as he leaned back on the foot of Edmund’s bed. “You just like to pretend that you do.”

Barty Crouch Jr. had been Edmund’s best friend since first year. As such, he dared to call out the feelings that even Edmund hadn’t admitted to himself yet with such an annoying air of casualness that inspired murderous impulses in the so-called Prince of Slytherin.

“He’s a pest,” Edmund spat, “An ant beneath my boot. If I ever have to see his smug face again it will be too soon.”

A chuckle was the only sound that came from Barty. The other boy shifted to sit cross legged and placed his cigarette back between his lips. His shoulders shifted in a casual shrug. “Whatever you say, mate. Just don’t come crawling to me when you realize you’re lying to yourself.”

A scathing look crossed Edmund’s face as he stopped pacing midstep to turn that scornful gaze upon Barty.

“What?” he protested, “I’m not the one who looks like he wants to fuck the guy.”

The conversation ended in violence followed by laughter.

. . .

“Stop staring him down, you look insane,” Dorcas’ voice snapped Edmund out of his murderous trance.

He huffed and forced his eyes to turn away from the blonde boy across the Hogwarts courtyard. He tried to turn his attention to the sun rays cascading through the weeping willow trees along the banks of the Black Lake. However, it was impossible to look at the golden reflections without thinking about the outrageous gilded curls of Dorian Lenoire.

“I’m not staring him down,” Edmund insisted. “I was simply observing the enemy.”

“The enemy,” Eden snorted and gave a grin that made him embarrassed to be related to her. “He’s a stuck up French boy. Are you afraid he’s going to guillotine you?”

“Guillotine is a noun, not a verb,” he huffed to his twin sister. “You should know this.”

Eden simply reached over and took the pastry from Edmund’s hands. She took a bit from it and Edmund’s eyes couldn’t help but catch how a crumb stuck to her chin. He did not tell her about it.

“Whatever, lil bro,” she rolled her eyes. “Are you going to talk to him or are you just going to keep staring him down like a creep?”

Edmund failed to resist the urge to smack her upside the head. Eden yelped and launched a pastry flinging counterattack, which he managed to deflect without being covered in sticky sugar. Dorcas, caught in the middle of sibling warfare, backed out with her hands raised and a look of “I’m not getting in between this shit.”

A wise choice.

. . .

“Is that your boyfriend?” A question that almost made Edmund fall out of his seat.

A question from a wide eyed first year who’d looked up from the homework Edmund had let her loose on just in time to catch him staring across the Hogwarts library. Edmund hadn’t meant to stare. However, his eye was drawn to those gilded locks again and he found himself staring into the sun….and facing the consequences.

“I…ah…what?” Edmund reeled, which almost startled him as much as the question. Being at a loss for words was an occurrence that he could count on his fingers. He blinked for a few seconds, like blinded by a light with his vision coming in and out of focus as it tried to steady itself from the intensity. He cleared his throat. “No. Focus or I’m letting you walk back into your class with the same amount of understanding that you left with.”

The threat seemed to do its job and the girl quickly turned back to her parchment, scratching out her answers with a newfound speed. Edmund tried to keep his gaze focused on his student and the strong sense of intimidation she seemed to give off just by existing in his presence. However, his eye slowly was drawn back towards Dorian across the library. Like an asteroid caught in a star’s gravitational pull, Edmund was slowly beginning to orbit him. 

His head snapped away again. “A pest,” he silently reminded himself of his own words that were becoming less believable every time he repeated them, “That’s all he is. A pest.”

. . .

“Hey Crowley!” The voice made him unreasonably excited to turn around.

A smug smile greeted Edmund when he did and equal parts anticipation and annoyance rose up in him. Still, his face twisted into a scowl to contrast Dorian’s lip-splitting grin.

“Looks like I earned the higher score, hm?” The taunt set Edmund’s anger ablaze in a way no other student could ever even hope to fan.

“Watch it, Lenoire,” he retorted, “If you wake up hexed, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Damn,” Dorian blinked a couple times as if stunned. But, Edmund knew him well enough to see it was insincere. “Maybe you should put that energy into your Potions work and you’ll reclaim your top spot from me again.”

Edmund's hand tightened around his upper arm, tension rising in his shoulders from his crossed arms. Sometimes, he could almost respect the ways that Dorian examined his weak points and purposefully poked at them. It was a strategy that Edmund himself employed on many occasions before. If he could say anything about Dorian, it was that. He made Edmund feel things outside his control, he broke through the facade and touched the boy beneath the Prince. He hated it, but he could respect it.

“You’re a pest, Lenoire,” he spat with more scathing than he’d intended to let out. “I’ll crush you under my boot.”

Dorian’s eyes almost seemed to light up at Edmund’s words with an intensity that he wasn’t used to seeing from the transfer student. It was a spark of madness beneath a controlled facade that Edmund knew well. He could recognize it in the mirror. 

“Huh,” he thought, “Well, that's fascinating.”

. . .

“We should do this again,” the words almost surprised Edmund as they fell from his tongue.

An equally as surprised Dorian lifted his head from his pillow and shifted to sit up in Edmund’s bed. The slight smile that split his lips made Edmund want to punch him in those stunning rows of pearly teeth.

“Yeah?” He asked. “The perfect Prince of Slytherin wants to go to bed with me again?”

Edmund knew his cheeks were cosplaying as a pair of cherries and the urge to dunk his face in a bowl of ice water grew. Instead, he simply cleared his throat and ran a hand through his dark curls.

“Recreationally, of course,” his voice regained its sense of authority that he’d already lost just by being in bed with his rival. “A casual release of tension between two willing participants.”

He did not dare admit anything more. He did not even dare admit that the hate festering in his gut was shifting into something that was far scarier to him. If Edmund dared to acknowledge those shifting feelings, he would have to acknowledge a truth that terrified him: that he did in fact care, as much as he tried to pretend he didn’t. The Prince of Slytherin was fallible to his emotions.

Dorian’s eyes held an intensity combined with an intelligence that Edmund had never seen matched in anyone but himself and his own mother. It was this fact that made Edmund certain that he could see through this controlled facade. He’d have to keep the Lenoire boy at arm’s length, however that didn’t mean he had to let go of his hand.

“OK,” Dorian agreed, eyes trailing over Edmund’s body in a way that made him feel even more exposed. Like, despite being nude, he’d removed Edmund’s skin and taken a look inside of him. Even stranger, he didn’t seem repulsed by what he saw. Repulsion wasn’t even close to the look he recognized in Dorian’s eyes.

“What a pest,” Edmund thought to himself, tinged with a fondness that he didn’t dare admit aloud.

. . .

“OK, open them.” The accented voice leading him instructed, removing his hands from over Edmund’s eyes.

With his blinders removed, Edmund blinked his eyes open. Then, he froze. His feet rooted to the ground like he was planted there and his muscles felt paralyzed. 

“Is this…” Was all he could get out. 

The willow tree on the bank of the Black Lake had been transformed. Glittering lights floated in the dropping branches and casted shadows over the perfectly smoothed out blanket on the bank. An antique looking teapot & matching plates were stacked neatly on a flat corner, followed by a basket that Edmund could only guess was full of treats. It was almost too much and no further words escaped his mouth. Thankfully, Dorian took over.

“I know you prefer your fancy things,” he explained, taking Edmund by the hand and leading him beneath the willow tree. “But, I also can tell that you’re not a loud environment person. So, I made something special.”

Edmund let himself be led, unable to do anything but stare. His heart screamed like a prisoner rattling at the bars of their cage. The genuine smile that crossed Dorian’s face was more precious than every night they’d spent together. And his gesture, the way he noticed Edmund’s flinches in the Great Hall when a utensil hit a plate, the way he noticed him slipping away from parties after a certain amount of time? That meant more than any words he could possibly string together.

And, despite Edmund’s loss for words, Dorian led him to sit on their picnic blanket. Sitting there, he explained the teapot’s history with his great-grandmother, and the way it hovered and served them both with only a snap of your fingers. The way Dorian seemed to know that enchanted objects were a field of Edmund’s study and purposefully brought one to trigger an infodump of genuine excitement from the withdrawn and lying boy.

Edmund’s heart couldn’t take denying it any longer. If he did, he’d never forgive himself for letting Dorian slip through his fingers. Edmund was done lying to himself. He’d brave whatever ridicule or judgement might come if it meant he could hold Dorian close and never let go.

And—when his impulses won over and his hands gripped the blonde boy by his cheeks and pressed their lips together with a new emotion beyond passion—Dorian pulled him close and held him with a gentleness that almost made Edmund break down in tears.

. . .

[almundtofu]

heh.. hi mootie😼 may i request high school sweethearts with Rin PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS I mean, thank you if u do😽

our spring, our story ₊˚⊹ ᰔ itoshi rin

note: HI MIMI thank you for being my first request i hope this was to your liking... i legit got stuck in the middle of writing this BUT !!! i did finish it so ENJOY :3

Itoshi Rin wasn’t someone who believed in distractions. Not when he had goals, not when the weight of his brother’s shadow loomed behind him, and especially not in high school—a time when most students were worried about tests and dances, while Rin was thinking only about soccer.

But you were an unexpected variable in his well-ordered life.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t flashy. You weren’t the kind of person who barged into someone’s life��you were the kind who simply walked in, made a home there, and left your scent on the air like blooming jasmine. You were just... you and he liked you for it.

The first time Rin noticed you was in the library. You were sitting two tables away, your brow furrowed as you chewed on your pencil, frustrated with a math problem. He wasn't going to say anything at first, but then you groaned under your breath and whispered, “Why is x always hiding? Just tell me the number.”

And he snorted.

Audibly.

You looked up, surprised. Rin looked just as shocked, both that you were talking to yourself and that he responded. Your eyes met, and you smiled, a little sheepish, a little curious.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to distract you,” you said, feeling guilty.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, a little too fast.

That was the beginning.

From there, things bloomed slowly but surely. You’d see each other in the mornings when he arrived early for practice, and you'd wave from the front gate as you munched on a convenience store sandwich. You always ate breakfast late, and Rin started bringing an extra onigiri, pretending it was “extra”—though he never forgot a day.

One afternoon, after school, you found him brooding outside the field. His team had lost a practice match, and though it was meaningless to most, Rin took it hard.

“Why’re you sulking like you lost the World Cup?” you asked softly.

He didn’t reply.

So you sat next to him, offering your favorite drink—strawberry milk.

He glanced at it and raised an eyebrow “Seriously?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

He drank it. Every drop.

It became his comfort drink after that. And you’d bring it to every game, every training, every time he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. No one else knew. Only you.

Then came the day when Rin finally confessed his feelings to you.

You were late, on purpose, maybe. Rin had asked to meet after school, voice low and unreadable like always. He didn’t explain why, just said, “Come to the courtyard. The tree near the bench.”

You knew which one. It was your spot. The one you both ended up at without meaning to—after tests, after practice, after long days when words felt too heavy and just sitting near each other was enough.

When you arrived, he was already there, as expected. He didn’t say anything when you approached, just glanced at you once, then looked away.

“…You said you had something to tell me?” you asked softly, brushing a sakura petal off your sleeve.

There was a pause. A long one.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, frowning a little.

You smiled a little. “At what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at the space between you. “Feelings. Saying things out loud.”

Your heart did a quiet backflip.

You stepped closer, just enough that your shoulder nearly touched his.

“You don’t have to say everything perfectly,” you murmured. “I’ll understand.”

Another pause. Rin took a slow breath, then turned toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I like you,” he said finally. “More than I should. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. You… make things quiet. When everything else is loud and annoying, you don’t get in the way. You just… stay. And I want that. I want you.”

The wind picked up, petals swirling around both of you like the moment had been waiting its whole life to happen.

You bit your lip, then reached out and took his hand.

He looked down at your fingers entwined with his. You gave a light squeeze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, too, Rin,” you whispered. “But I was waiting for you to be ready.”

Rin didn’t smile often. But right then, under the cherry blossoms, he did. A soft, rare smile that felt like the beginning of something quiet and permanent.

“…Thank you,” he said, his fingers tightening around yours.

And just like that, the space between you disappeared.

Your first real “date” was a spring festival. Rin didn’t like crowds, but you promised it would be quick—just the food stalls, and then you’d sneak away to the park near the river. He was stiff at first, quiet as always, but when you held his hand through the crowd, his fingers curled around yours.

Under the paper lanterns, he saw how your eyes glowed. How your laughter made even the fireworks seem dull in comparison.

“I don’t get why people like stuff like this,” Rin muttered, eyes tracking a sparkler you were waving in the air.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Because even people who want to be alone deserve good memories.”

He turned to you and kissed your lips so fast you almost didn’t process it.

When you looked at him in shock, he looked away, face tinged pink.

“You’re one of my good memories,” he muttered.

You became his safe place. The one who could tease him out of a foul mood with just a touch. The only person allowed to nap on the grass next to him while he took a break between drills. The person he texted after every match—even if all he said was “Won.” or “Training sucked.”

And when he got into Blue Lock, and had to leave your school behind, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t good at goodbyes.

But he hugged you for the first time that day. His arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. Breathing you in like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

“I’ll win,” he whispered into your hair. “For you. For me.”

You squeezed his hand and whispered back, “I’ll be here. Always.”

Years later, when Rin stood on the world stage, his stoic face as unreadable as ever, the camera zoomed in on a familiar charm hanging from his bag—a tiny, hand-stitched soccer ball with your initials sewn into the seams.

And in the crowd, you were there, wearing a jersey with his name and a smile that never changed.

Because some spring loves don’t fade. Some bloom, and keep blooming—year after year.

[scuderia-eunoia]

✰ remember the letters | KA12

starring: kimi antonelli x reader (blurb) in which: you see your past looking at you in the crowd. pushed on by regret, melancholy, or everything unsaid, you approach him. wc: 0.5k words includes: angst, exes, implied miscommunication, breakups. english is not my first language! warnings: none notes: no one cares but its my first day today!! and this is kind of a self-indulgent vent thing bc i was scared of running into my ex today, so i wrote about what it would be like. kinda. its really short and really bad (i think) so um. enjoy (?)

It’s almost cinematic, the way he spots you through the crowd. You lock eyes almost instantly as if you were always made to find each other. Even in the chaos of the students shuffling all around you, the cacophony of questions and confusion slowly eating the both of you whole— you navigated through it all and walked toward him.

He did, too. Like some rift had opened up in your distance, and it was leading him straight to you. Two completely different people, torn apart by their own choices, make the decision to find their way back to one another again.

You still remember the letters. All the nights you spent reading dried ink on paper, trying to understand the meaning and weight of the written words. It was pain in cursive, months of yearning just sitting in between your fingers.

Hey, This is my 32nd letter to you. It’s July 23 today, Tuesday. Your favorite bakery is pretty busy, and I don’t know why; I think they started selling those cookies that you liked again. If this was several months ago, I’d have offered to buy you some. But since it’s the present... I don’t think I have the right to do that anymore, do I? It’s been 11 months. You could practically say that it’s been an entire year at this point. But I still miss you. I still think about you, whenever I look at something, or pass by a place we used to go to... Even now, I still find parts of you in my room, if I dig deep enough. I don’t want to call them leftovers. To me, these lingering memories of you... they’re here for a reason. And I know that sounds stupid, because you’re probably never going to return— but even if that were the case, I think that these things are more than just pieces of you that you forgot to take back. You didn’t leave them here. You gave them to me, and made them a part of who I am. Just like how you gave color to my life— even if you left, these shades were never meant to be erased. I don’t want to sound like some poet— that’s your thing. All I’m trying to say is that I miss you. I really do. Milan isn’t the same as it used to be without you. Today was the first time I was able to visit your favorite bakery— that’s how I found out about the cookies. I’ve been avoiding it because I thought that maybe you were avoiding me, and that if I just didn’t show up for a while, you’d turn up eventually. But that clearly wasn’t the case. I’m running out of guesses on where you are, or what you’re doing. Whatever it is, I hope you’re okay. Kimi

You’re not sure when the crowd had eventually dispersed, and that you were actually looking up at him now.

His eyes held an expression you couldn’t quite describe with just one word; it was filled melancholy, happiness, and a kind of longing that you’ve never seen before. The past year changed him, you realized, and he was different.

In a lot of ways, he was the same. But the biggest difference was that he wasn’t yours anymore.

[atlabeth]

rough first day - jimmy olsen

summary: lois asks jimmy to accompany her summer intern on her first day in the field. he is totally capable of being normal about it.

a/n: sorry this is lowkey just me manifesting because a paper like the daily planet is my dream and im a journalism student about to graduate into a nightmare job market for journos. superman lore? i dont know her. journalism antics based off my own life? of course (not the bombing part but the rest is pretty accurate lol) thank you to @emiliehornby for being my co-leader of jimmy nation

wc: 4.2k

warning(s): this is all fluff baby!!! there's a bombing at the end but no one dies so still all fluff

“Hey, Jimmy.” 

“Lois!” He rapidly switches tabs from his game of sudoku to the photos he’s meant to be editing and smiles up at her. “Hey— uh, hey. What’s up?” 

She shares a knowing smile of her own as she leans against his desk. “Do you have any assignments yet?” 

Jimmy shakes his head. “Nah, I haven’t pitched anything today. Figured I’d go where the wind takes me, y’know?”

“Well, the wind has arrived.” Lois looks across the bullpen to a young woman talking excitedly with Perry. Well, you look excited, but he doesn’t. “Have you met my intern yet?” 

“Yeah,” he says, a more genuine smile forming as he watches you. “We met when she came in for orientation last week. She— she’s great.” 

“You think so?” 

Jimmy nods. “I’m surprised you took her on, honestly. She’s a lot nicer than you.” Lois tries to swat his shoulder but he rolls back in his chair with a laugh. “Point proven!” 

“Oh, whatever,” she huffs. She calls your name and your head shoots up, and she gestures for you to come over. You say some kind of apology to Perry, who looks relieved once you walk off. 

“Miss Lane!” you say brightly. “What can I do for you?” 

“I told you to call me Lois,” she says. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “All of you are so nice here. I’m still getting used to it.”

Jimmy frowns. “Were the people at your last job mean?”

“My last internship kind of sucked,” you say. “I mean, I did some great reporting, don’t get me wrong! But everyone there was way more cutthroat than I thought they would be. And,” you tip your head, “I didn’t get paid. So this is already way better.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Lois says. “What was Perry talking to you about?”

“Oh, I was just asking him a lot of questions,” you say with a slight laugh. “This is the biggest paper I’ve ever worked at, so I’m trying to get to know all the editors. My college paper has like… fifteen people total, and it feels like I’m at least half of them some days.”

“What a coincidence,” Lois says, and she pats Jimmy on the shoulder. “My friend Jimmy here was just talking about how he’d love to show you the ropes.” 

“You would?” you ask, your eyes brightening as you break out that perfect smile once again. It’s deadly, he swears—blinding, if nothing else. 

“I would?” he stumbles, and then he blinks. Jimmy’s been wanting to spend time with you since the second you walked through the doors, and Lois is just handing it to him on a silver platter. He can show someone the ropes, can’t he? “I— I would, yeah! Definitely!” 

“Great.” Lois stands up and looks between both of you. “Senator Cia Strong is running for reelection, and she’s having a press conference today in Byrd Park for her stop in Metropolis. I think it would be a good, quick story for you to cover together.” 

“Oh, I heard about that!” you exclaim. “Her opponent’s Bill Macron, and he looks surprisingly strong for a newcomer— do you think she’ll win?” 

Lois smiles. “That’s for the two of you to find out.” 

“When is it?” Jimmy asks. 

She looks down at her watch. “Twenty-seven minutes.” 

“Twenty-sev—?” he blurts out, and he jumps up from his seat. “Lois, that’s a twenty minute subway ride on its own!” 

“You can make it if you hurry,” she says nonchalantly, but he barely hears her as he starts gathering his things at top speed. You’re moving at a similar pace, already booking it back to the intern desk they keep shoved in the corner of the office to get your stuff. 

You make it back ten seconds later—your backpack hangs off one shoulder, your camera is looped around your neck, and you’ve got your press pass and water bottle and jacket and probably five other things in your arms.

“Are you good?” he asks. 

“Yeah!” you nod, “I’ll meet you outside!” And then you’re already jogging out the door. 

Jimmy shoots Lois a dirty look as he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and starts backpedaling. “You’re the worst!” he calls. 

She smiles. “Have fun!” 

Jimmy runs after you, narrowly avoiding a direct collision with Cat, and Lois walks back over to her desk and sits down. 

“I saw that, Miss Lane,” Clark says. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says airily. 

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“This is work!” she defends. “She’s my intern—I’m helping her get situated.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Jimmy’s been making eyes at her since her first day, would it?” 

Lois shrugs as she opens her inbox. “I told you, I don’t know what you mean.” 

“It’s sweet,” Clark says. “I didn’t think you of all people would be a matchmaker.” 

She frowns and looks over at him. “What does that mean?” 

This time, he shrugs with a wry smile. “I don’t know.” 

Lois scoffs and clicks on an unread press release. She gets two lines in before she deletes it. PR folks love sending her releases for things that, one, aren’t newsworthy, and two, aren’t on her beat. 

“They’re both good kids,” she finally says. “Cub reporters usually stick together anyway. I’m just giving them a headstart on it.” 

“Of course,” Clark nods. “And if sparks happen to fly, you can’t really be blamed, can you?” 

“You’ve got a one track mind,” she remarks, but she can’t fully bite back her smile, especially as she meets his warm eyes. 

The Daily Planet has a way of bringing people together, after all. 

-

You and Jimmy end up barely making it to the subway, the doors closing mere seconds after you get into the car. You collapse onto the bench beside each other, both very much out of breath from your multi-block sprint. 

“Do all of your stories start off like this?” you gasp out. 

“No.” Jimmy shakes his head, but it takes him another few seconds to respond as he tries to catch his breath. He hasn’t had to run that many blocks in… forever, he thinks. “But the reporters here like to go ‘trial by fire’ for their interns. Especially Lois.” 

“I’ve always admired her work,” you say. “Now I think she might be a little crazy.” 

A laugh tumbles out of him as he leans his head against the back of the seat. “To make it in this field, you’ve gotta be.” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I’ve gathered that.” 

The two of you sit there for another stop in silence, still gathering your thoughts and breath. Jimmy can’t help but pass a few glances at you, glowing from exertion. You shrug your backpack onto the floor and start organizing everything you grabbed off your desk in your haste.

He’s only been in your presence for a collective five minutes, between your orientation last week and your real first day today, but he doesn’t want to leave it. He feels like a meteor stuck in your orbit, especially when you give him that superstar smile. 

“So,” he starts, now that his heart has finally returned to a normal rate, “how’d you get this gig?” 

“Some networking and a lot of luck,” you admit. “My favorite professor went to college with Mis— with Lois. She told me to apply, so I did, and she put in a good word for me. Two interviews and a few on-the-spot articles later, and voila! I’m here.” 

Jimmy nods. “Nothing wrong with a bit of networking. Kinda feels like it’s the only way to get anything done these days.” 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. “I swear, half my friends are going on dates, and I’m over here with a contact list full of small-town bureaucrats.” 

He laughs some. He kinda feels bad for wondering if that means you’re single. “If it makes you feel better, you’re probably getting left on read about the same amount.” 

You laugh too, and it makes him smile. Something about you draws him in and he can’t even help it. Could Lois tell, or did she just throw him into this without even knowing? 

Who is he kidding? Lois notices everything. This is probably her version of paying him back for handling her dailies last week so she could chase a Superman scoop. 

(He will never admit it to her, but it does kinda make up for it.)

“How long have you worked at the Daily Planet?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Only about a year and a half,” he says. “I got hired in the mailroom originally, but Perry brought me up to staff after a couple months. I had a ‘Humans of Metropolis’ photoblog that really impressed him.” He laughs. “And the Superman action shots that ended up front page, above the fold."

Your eyes widen. “You’ve met Superman?” 

“Yeah!” Jimmy nods after a moment of hesitation. “Yeah, so many times. We’re basically best buds.” 

“Oh my god.” You grab his arm and lean in and he stares at you with equally-wide eyes. “That— that is so cool! I— I’ve read a bunch of Superman stuff, but I never thought I might get to meet him!” 

He grins. “Reporting in Metropolis isn’t like any other city. I think you’ll realize that pretty quickly.” 

“I can’t imagine getting pictures like that, of a superhero.” You sigh and pick up the camera around your neck.  “I’ve also never been the best photographer. Not very MMJ of me.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” he assures. “One nice thing about working at such a big paper is that you usually don’t have to go out as a one man band.” 

“God, yes,” you mumble. “I struggled through all of my media production classes. I’m definitely meant to be behind a laptop, not in front of a camera.” 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy says, tilting his head, “I think you’d make a killing on broadcast.” 

You smile at him, more genuine than anything he’s ever received before, and he feels better just at the sight. It doesn’t make sense. He barely knows you—he can’t be thinking like this. He can’t be this obvious. You don’t make it easy.  

“Thanks,” you say. “But I’m happy where I am.” 

You and Jimmy continue to chat until you get to your stop—mostly idle conversation to pass the time, but he does learn a few things. You’re from a small town in Vermont, your preferred beat is politics, and if you could bring three things to a deserted island you’d bring a notebook, a knife, and your reusable water bottle.  

Oh, yeah—he also learns that he’s a complete goner. Jimmy falls deeper into your orbit during a twenty minute subway ride, pulling out every joke he can think of to try and make you laugh and see that smile again. How is he going to work with you every day and still stay a normal, self-respecting person? 

You’re magnetic. It’s no wonder you’re going into journalism, because he thinks you can get anyone to tell you anything if you just ask nicely and give them that smile. 

It’s certainly worked on him.

But Jimmy doesn’t have to think too much about that right now, because the two of you have another five minute sprint to make it to Byrd Park on time. You show your press passes to get to the front, then you separate as Jimmy finds a spot. 

You take out a pen, notepad, and a mini recorder while Jimmy rushes to fix his white balance. He always forgets to reset it. You give him a smile and a little wave from your front row seat. He smiles back and feels dizzy. 

The press conference goes a lot smoother than the rush over did. The senator delivers pretty much exactly what Jimmy expects—improved education, protected healthcare, lowered crime, the same old. Strong isn’t the worst senator, but Jimmy thinks half the state doesn’t know anything about her policies. She’s average, and most politicians seem to be that or worse these days. 

It’s just like any other press conference—with exceptionally good lighting, Jimmy might add—until the explosions start. 

He barely even registers it. One moment he’s on one knee zooming in for a better view of Strong, the next he’s been thrown against a tree so hard he thinks it breaks in half. He hopes, at least, because otherwise that crack came from his ribs. 

It takes Jimmy a second to come back into himself. He’s protected his camera above all else, wrapped in his jacket and his arms, and he snaps a round of quick photos of all the chaos before he struggles to his feet. 

Everything has devolved into hysteria—screaming and running and batting out flames. Jimmy has to find you. You’re a small town girl and now you’re caught up in a bombing in one of the biggest cities in the world. What a great first day. 

He’s trying to search for you, but it’s hard when half the park is enveloped in smoke and flames and he can’t stop hacking up a lung. How is he meant to find you or get any good pictures in this?

“Help!” 

A voice pierces through the disorder and Jimmy knows it’s you. His heart speeds up and he starts shoving his way through the crowd. He yells out your name and you call his in response—you keep Marco Poloing until Jimmy finds you, and his eyes widen. 

You’re face down in the dirt, your leg pinned down by a fallen tree. You spot Jimmy and yell for him again, and he runs up to you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, dropping to his knees beside you. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, and you grunt as you push at the tree trunk. “I just can’t— get this— off!

“Just stay calm!” Jimmy says. “It— it’s gonna be okay!” 

Jimmy tries to push the tree off you and quickly realizes he is not anywhere near strong enough.

“Does this happen on everyone’s first day?” you ask. 

“Not everyone’s,” he grunts. “But welcome to your crash course on reporting in Metropolis. Metahumans can throw a superpowered wrench in your plans for the day.” 

“How do you know this is a metahuman?” you ask breathlessly. 

Jimmy thinks about the car he no longer has because of some villain of the week that tried to bash Superman over the head with it. If only he had been able to afford the next level up of metahuman insurance. 

“Because it usually is,” he decides on. “You, uh, kinda get used to it.” 

You huff an incredulous laugh. Jimmy attempts to lift it up even an inch, just enough for you to get your leg out, but no dice. He tries one more time—he has to save you, of course, but come on how cool would it be for him to do this in front of you?—and to his shock, the tree lifts up. 

You crawl out from under it and shift to your back, your chest heaving with effort. The crushed remains of your camera are scattered all around you. Your eyes only widen, but you’re not looking at Jimmy. 

“Superman!” you marvel, your voice a mixture of shock and awe. 

He looks over and sees that Superman is, in fact, beside him holding up the tree.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asks as he sets it back down. Jimmy glances down at his hands, a little disappointed. “Your leg isn’t injured?” 

“You’re Superman,” you repeat. Jimmy thinks you’re starstruck. 

“I am,” he smiles. His gaze goes down to the press pass still hanging around your neck, and his eyes light up. “You’re from the Daily Planet?” 

You nod, once, twice, three times. Definitely starstruck. “I’m one of their summer interns.” 

Superman grins. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you, then. Welcome to Metropolis.” He looks over at Jimmy and nods. “Good to see you again, Jimmy.” 

He nods as well. “Yeah, uh— good to see you too, Supes. Thanks for the assist.” 

Superman flies off to help more people before Jimmy manages to say anything else stupid—Supes?—and you look like you’re about to pass out. 

Jimmy says your name as he moves closer to you, his eyes still wide. He puts his hands on your shoulders to bring you back to the real world. “Are you still with me?” 

“We just met Superman!” you exclaim, grinning at Jimmy. It might just be all the smoke he’s inhaled, but he feels a little lightheaded. “My first day on the job and we met Superman—” 

There’s a sudden buzzing in the air, and you pull your phone out of your pocket. “It’s Lois,” you tell him, and then you answer it. “Lois, hey!” 

Jimmy can hear her frantically saying your name even from here. She’s not exactly quiet. You move the phone away from your ear some and he chuckles. “Are you and Jimmy okay? I saw the news— the bombs—” 

“We’re fine!” you assure, and you motion for Jimmy to come over. “Jimmy too, here—”

“Hey, Lois,” he says, loud enough to be heard through the receiver. “We’re good.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have—” 

“Are you kidding?” you interrupt. “This was incredible, Lois! We’ve got a way bigger story to uncover— no one just bombs normal senators. There’s gotta be dirt we can uncover. And— oh my god, we met Superman!” 

“...You did?” she asks, and she sounds less than enthused. 

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, it was amazing. He saved my life!” 

“Sounds like him,” she says. 

“This is incredible,” you say. “Jimmy and I are gonna get a bunch of man on the street interviews from people that are here— can you call the Strong campaign PR person and see if you can get a statement?” 

“Don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” Lois asks. “You were just in a bombing, you have no idea who could be behind it—” 

“This is my chance to get my first Metropolis-sized scoop!” you insist. “Would you go to the hospital right now?” 

“...I’ll give them a call,” she says. “The two of you, stay safe. Jimmy has Clark’s number, call him if anything happens!” 

“Make sure you ask about her donors!” you insist.  

You hang up and you look over at Jimmy. Your clothes are singed and covered in tree bark and ashes, and you have a bleeding cut on your forehead, but you look happier than any normal person should be right now. 

“Did you get any pictures of all that?” 

“Uh, not of that,” he says. “I was kind of busy trying to save you.” 

“What about the explosion?” 

He nods and starts clicking through his photos. “I took what I could. I think I might have a concussion?” 

“That one!” you exclaim, and he stops. “That is perfect, Jimmy!” 

He got one right as the explosion went off, with Senator Strong speaking on a backdrop of blinding light. He goes to the next photo and it’s nothing but that light. He goes back to the photo that is definitely a front pager and shakes his head. He can’t believe his lens didn’t crack, but he’s very thankful. 

“Geez,” he mutters. “How lucky am I?” 

“Do you still have your laptop?” 

“As long as it’s not broken in my backpack, yeah.” 

“Change of plans, then. You get those photos uploaded to your drive so we’re ready once we get back to the office.” You take your mini recorder out, somehow not crushed like your camera, and smile. “I’m gonna interview anyone that’s stuck around. We’ll meet up in thirty minutes by the fountain, okay?” 

Jimmy nods. He looks down at your leg and sees that you’ve lost a third of your pant leg—not to mention the swelling and killer bruises starting to form. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“I don’t even feel it,” you assure. “Which means we’ve gotta get this done before my adrenaline fades.” 

“You’re a little crazy,” Jimmy says. “I think you’ll fit in perfectly here.” 

You grin and Jimmy smiles. “Fountain in thirty,” you repeat. 

“Aye, aye, captain.” 

You laugh, and then you run off to get your interviews. Jimmy watches you for a good, long second before he goes off to find a still-intact park bench. Police officers and EMTs are already starting to show up—he makes a mental note to get a quote from an officer before the two of you leave. 

He might be a little crazy, too. Because Jimmy is pretty sure he would go through a couple more bombings just to spend more time with you. 

-

You and Jimmy stumble through the doors of the Daily Planet. You limped your way back from the subway station, Jimmy is now sure he has a concussion, and you both look like you’ve been through Hell and back together. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been happier. 

“We need to start making phone calls right now,” you say to Jimmy as he speeds to keep up with you. “Like, search through Strong’s donor list and bother every single one of them.” 

“I’m already on it.” Jimmy’s been scrolling through his phone for half your scramble over here, sending texts to sources and answering ones from friends who saw he was at the bombing. “The news editor at the Metropolis Examiner has been looking into her shifty financial history since her first term—she just shared her master doc with me.” 

“Great!” you exclaim. “We can bust this wide open, Jimmy!” 

You pull up a chair at Jimmy’s desk and take your laptop out of your bag. You’re already typing at the speed of light. “I’ll start a write-up on the press conference so we can get it out as soon as possible. Do you edit your photos yourself or does someone else do it?” 

“I do my own,” he says. “No one else understands my vision.” 

“Then start editing your best shots, ones you think will make us a shoe-in for the front page,” you say, and you almost squeal in excitement. “This has got to get us above the fold, right?” 

“I think so,” Jimmy says. “Perry would definitely give it to us if we got an interview with Superman. That’s why Clark is always on the front page.” 

“Well, it sounds like you two really are best friends,” you tease. “You’re on a nickname basis with him?” 

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. “It’s no big deal. We’re cool with each other.” 

“Maybe you can get us that interview with him next time,” you say. “Then I’ll really have something to brag about to my roommates.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says. 

You grin. “Great. Now, get on those photos.” 

Jimmy nods. Technically, he’s higher up on the totem pole than you, but technically, he doesn’t think he’d get anywhere trying to pull rank when he’s only a step above you. You’re in the zone—he respects it, and he’s a little scared of it. 

“Once you’re done, you can keep looking into the Strong angle,” you say. “We move fast enough, we’ll have two articles to pitch to Perry before lunch!” 

“Yes ma’am,” Jimmy jokes. Lightroom has finally booted up, so he starts to transfer his favorite shots over. He passes a glance over at you while they’re loading. “You move fast, don’t you?” 

You laugh, high on life, journalism, and the adrenaline that comes with surviving a bombing. “Trial by fire, right?” 

“Are you two okay?” a voice asks, and you turn your head to see it’s Clark Kent with slightly wide eyes. He has a mug of coffee in each hand and he places them down in front of you both. “It’s all over every station; you even ended up in some shots.”

“We were on TV?” Jimmy asks. He might be working at one of the most acclaimed newspapers in the world, but it is still so cool to him every time he makes it onto the news for something other than his photos. 

“More than,” you assure. Your fingers are still flying over the keys, and you laugh again. “What a way to get my first byline here!” 

“I’m glad,” Clark says, and he looks at you. “Lois is off chasing that lead you gave her. I think you might be the perfect intern for her.” 

“I’m glad,” you echo. “If this is what the whole summer’s gonna be like, I cannot wait!” 

“Woah, new girl!” Steve is walking past them but he stops and backpedals, eyes wide as he looks you and Jimmy up and down. You do both kind of look like complete messes—him, at least. Somehow, you still look good. “Rough first day?” 

You and Jimmy share glances at each other and you grin. He thinks he might pass out. 

“No,” you say. “It was perfect.” 

[codfxrn]

SOAKED; LEWIS PULLMAN

Author notes:

Hi, this is a direct translation of my fic SOAKED; Lewis Pullman from Spanish to English. So if you see a Spanish version, that was me. This is just to reach more people.

Sorry if there are any mistakes in grammar or the story, I’m using a translator

Warnings: Explicit content, that’s all.

FRAT LEWIS X READER

The music pounded against the walls, the heat and sweaty bodies feeding that raw sensation of need, or maybe it was just the alcohol running through her veins.

She could see them, students who seemed so politically correct breaking apart with just a few drinks, maybe gallons of alcohol, drinking like there was no tomorrow and aching to fuck like they were virgins on the brink of decay. And she couldn’t blame them. She was exactly the same.

"Are you enjoying the party?" a voice asked behind her. Instinctively, she turned toward the voice before meeting his face.

"I’ve been to better ones," she answered, her tone flat and serious.

He laughed, not the same laugh she’d heard echoing down the hallways. It was that disguised kind of laugh, a camouflage for a bruised ego.

"Are you here looking for something? Maybe sex?"

For the first time, she looked him straight in the eyes, as if his question had been offensive enough to earn it. Lewis laughed again.

"Relax," he said casually. "Sometimes it’s good to find a hobby. Someone who can please you whenever you want."

She only shot him a cold look.

She’d known Lewis for as long as she could remember. Their mothers had become best friends, and when they got pregnant at the same time, they wished their kids would grow up inseparable, just like them. And for years, they were. They shared birthdays, vacations, afternoons playing in the yard while their parents laughed in the kitchen, joking about some uncertain future that always included them.

He protected her, she sought him out, everything felt simple, natural, inevitable. Until they turned fifteen. Until, without any explanation, Lewis stopped talking to her. There wasn’t a fight, no cruel comment or stupid argument, just a sudden, dry silence, as if he’d decided overnight to erase everything they’d been. She pretended it didn’t hurt, pretended not to notice, pretended it didn’t matter. But it did, more than she was willing to admit now.

He stopped replying to her messages, stopped waiting for her after class, stopped inviting her over like he used to. She looked for reasons, flaws in herself, wondered if she’d said something wrong, if she’d crossed some invisible line. Because back then, she’d started to notice things she shouldn’t notice. The way he looked in uniform with his sleeves rolled up, how his hair would mess up when he ran, his voice, how sometimes it sounded deeper, closer.

And though she had no proof, part of her believed, or wanted to believe, that maybe he’d felt it too. That shift, that tension that moves in without asking. But if he did, why pull away? Why destroy something so easy to keep? She never found out. She never dared to ask. And he never explained. He just became distant, like having her close was dangerous, like he was running from her, like she was the danger.

Now, years later, he was right in front of her. Laughing awkwardly, looking at her like he didn’t really know how to hold her gaze. And all she could think about was everything they’d never said.

"If Tamara heard you…" she started, and Lewis gave her a mocking look.

"What, you gonna tell on me? We twelve now?" he shot back, dripping sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes and looked over at a couple practically devouring each other. The repulsive way they seemed to need each other, and there she was, watching like some pervert, painfully inexperienced.

"Have you never felt that?"

She frowned, and Lewis looked entertained by how easily he could get under her skin. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the way her body reacted. She didn’t answer. She just looked away, but for some reason, Lewis couldn’t stop watching her, ever since he’d asked that question, it wouldn’t leave his head. Admiring her felt like a crime, one he desperately wanted to commit without consequence. He swallowed hard, feeling a strange heat crawl from his neck down his spine. His eyes landed on hers, uneasy, scanning the chaos around her, like she didn’t belong in this vulgar mess of college kids.

Then, his gaze dropped to her lips. Soft and pink, exactly like he’d imagined when a couple of his friends whispered that she kissed too well. Slowly, his eyes traveled down to her neck. He could count how many times she’d swallowed, how many times she’d taken a breath. Lewis ran his tongue over his lips, like it could somehow scrape away the thoughts that tormented him.

"Hey, Lew!" a couple of guys called out, voices loud with drunk excitement. He nodded, smiling, like they’d just handed him an escape.

"No, don’t even think about it," he muttered, but it was too late. Both guys dumped a bucket of beer over Lewis, not caring that she was standing right next to him. "Shit!" he cursed, furious. Those idiots had zero aim, probably the alcohol, because they’d managed to soak her too.

Lewis looked at her, whether he meant to or not, he didn’t know, but seeing how her clothes clung to her, practically molding to her body like a second skin, knocked the air out of his lungs. The cheers and whistles that erupted didn’t help. Lewis didn’t let it go any further, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his room. The murmurs followed them, especially when Lewis rested his warm hand on the curve of her back.

She gasped, so soft it got swallowed up by the noise and music, but his hand stayed where it was, like he needed that point of contact. A couple stumbled in front of them, too busy devouring each other to notice they were in the way. She blushed, and Lewis could feel the alcohol starting to kick in for real.

"Sorry, guys, but this is my room," he said when he saw the couple gripping the doorknob, trying to get inside in a rush. "You’ll have to find somewhere else," he added coolly. They were too absorbed to hear him, but Lewis’s sharp stare was enough to send them running. "Gotta make sure nobody defiles my bed," he said.

She laughed, and for the first time, Lewis truly enjoyed the sound of her laugh, the way her cheeks flushed, how her lips tugged at each other again and again, how her eyes blinked open and closed like rose petals drifting down in slow motion.

Without another word, he guided her inside. Lewis stayed by the door as she took in his room. It smelled like fresh wood and faint hints of lavender, too gentle for someone like Lewis. The walls were painted a light color, letting the light reach every corner. A shelf overflowed with books, classics, theater theory, literary criticism, and more. His desk was a mess, like always since he was a teenager.

"'The Story of O?'" she murmured, brushing her fingers over the cover. "What’s it about?"

Lewis stared at her, confused, then blushed a little as he handed her a T-shirt. Maybe he was drunk enough, or maybe seeing her from this close up made a thousand incoherent thoughts swirl in his head.

"It’s just…" he stammered, "a book I found at the library."

"Submission? Wow, I didn’t think you liked reading that kind of thing," she said, incredulous. "'Actually… if you tie her up and she starts to like it, that’s no good either. You have to go past pleasure, all the way to tears.'"

For some reason, those words hit Lewis hard. Maybe it was her tone, the closeness, or the light in the room, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, feeling his body tighten, his skin prickle, his heartbeat syncing to the sound of her voice.

"What the hell do you read, Lewis?" she teased, laughing, and that laugh lifted something heavy off his chest that he didn’t even know he’d been carrying.

"Maybe you should get changed. You can use my bathroom. I’ll stay here."

She didn’t say anything, just nodded, left the book on the desk, and headed for the bathroom. Lewis muttered a string of curses, her voice echoing in his head like a curse of its own.

"Fuck…" he breathed, brushing his fingers over the book’s cover like he was trying to remember her touch, or pretending her fingers were on him instead. "You’re not a goddamn teenager, Lewis," he whispered to himself, biting his lip as the tightness in his jeans pulsed insistently.

He closed his eyes slowly, but all he could replay was her voice, the way the words curled around her lips, the way her breath caught on certain phrases. Lewis was screwed, there was no fixing what he’d spent years trying to rebuild. That invisible wall to keep from needing her, wanting her, craving her.

The door opened just a crack, and that shy look settled back over her as she realized his shirt still smelled like him, and barely covered what it had to. Under any other circumstance, she would’ve begged for a pair of jeans, but now she felt stripped bare, exposed in every way. She was ready to speak, to thank him, to ask for something else to wear, but seeing him with his back turned, shirtless, stopped her cold. It was better than the dream she’d had three summers ago.

The way his body flexed, his broad back carved with muscle, perfectly natural on him.

Lewis always wore slightly loose clothes, she’d never imagined he was hiding that under his shirt.

"Lewis…" she whispered under her breath. Wishing he wouldn’t even hear it. However. It was even worse. The way his torso turned to her. His toned chest and well-defined abs made her swallow hard for the tenth time that night. "Could you lend me some pants to sleep in? I don’t think it’s wise to go downstairs wearing just a shirt."

It was at that exact moment Lewis’s eyes landed on the fold of her shirt. He shook his head awkwardly. First nodding then shaking it. The tension could be cut with a knife. Lewis swallowed. Trying not to look at her but failing the moment their hands brushed.

She took the garment. Whispering a "thanks" that was lost between them. And Lewis failed again. This time with no restraint at all. Before she could move. Lewis trapped her in his hands. He slowly caressed her cheek. As if he adored looking at her. As if it were the first time he really did. And without warning. His lips touched hers. Soft. Gentle. Like he didn’t want to break the moment.

His hands settled on her waist. Digging his fingers under her shirt and feeling her skin burn under his touch. The lack of air stopped them. Leaving them stunned by what had just happened. And as if reality had the power to hit him. He backed away in fear. Like he’d committed the worst of crimes.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…" he murmured awkwardly. However. She was the one who closed the distance and kissed him again.

Lewis’s hands made their way as if that closeness could shut off his own switches and let out what he’d kept inside for so long. She placed her hands on his neck. Moaning slightly at the feel of his nearness.

Lewis smiled before urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He could feel the soft texture. Her skin fitting perfectly against his. He planted wet kisses around her face. Her lips and neck. Like it was his favorite routine.

He groaned before losing balance. Especially when her hands roamed his torso until resting on his belt buckle.

"You’re going to kill me." he murmured. Kissing her like his life depended on it.

She smiled when she felt Lewis toss his things to the floor. Clearing most of the desk.

"I always wanted to do this." she whispered. Gently caressing his thighs and watching his face tighten at her perfectly calculated touch."You’re perfect. Too good for me…" he confessed before tracing a couple of fingers from her jawline down. Pulling her closer to him.

His hands were skilled. Almost trained to make her crumble with just a touch. He didn’t have to say a word. His breathing gave him away before his hands did. With a light touch. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingers trembled slightly. As if asking permission at every step.

"Tell me it’s okay." he murmured so low it was barely heard. She nodded. And that was enough.

She could have pulled back. Told him no. That it was too soon. That his distance still hurt. But she didn’t. Because that night. For once. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel. And Lewis was the only way she knew how.

The kiss didn’t come all at once. It formed at the corner of her lips. Soft. Patient. Almost heavenly. She was the one who opened her mouth first. Letting out a sigh he silenced with the tip of his tongue as he clung to her body. His obedient hands guided themselves over the fabric. The tension disappeared completely. Especially when the belt buckle finally gave way.

Lewis caressed her face tenderly. Like someone caring for something he didn’t want to break.

His eyes burned with a desire as hot as the sun. But he didn’t stop looking at her. Like he didn’t care if the world burned. He could only admire her. So weak. So his.

A couple of fingers brushed her lips. Letting themselves get lost in the softness and warmth they gave off. Before soaking in his own need.

She stared at him wide-eyed. Not speaking but her body spoke for her. Her cheeks flushed. Her breathing ragged. She desperately needed him to fill her.

He took one last look. As if asking permission for something that had been agreed from the start. And carefully slid two fingers inside her. She tightened against his body. While Lewis welcomed her gladly. Listening to her moan into his ear to the point of falling apart.

"Just like that, baby. You take me so well…" he breathed. His voice broken. Yet his fingers moved inside her walls. Soaking in the desire he’d stirred in her.

His free hand roamed her body until settling around her neck. Squeezing lightly. Not hurting her. But letting her know she’d unconsciously signed up to be his.

"I need you." she murmured. As if it were her final breath.

Lewis smiled before slipping out. His soaked fingers glistened in the light. And shamelessly. Without warning. He tasted them.

"So sweet…" he confessed before grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close. "Just look at me, baby. I’ll make you feel so good…"

The impact of his words shattered that final barrier. She collapsed against him when she felt him slide inside her.

"Fuck…" he murmured clumsily. As her whimpers clung to his skin. The way his body claimed her. Lecherous and intimate. Made him lose himself in a limbo of pleasure.

Her hands clutched at his back. Clawing slightly. Because she seemed drunk on Lewis’s attention. Never able to get enough.

Lewis kissed her. Leaving tiny marks. Almost invisible but not to them. He loved to see her skin flushed. And she didn’t mind. And that was enough.

He looked at her before sliding a couple of fingers against her sweet spot. Watching her throw her head back as he thrust into her made him feel unworthy of it. But he could never erase that image from his mind. Hearing her moan. Close her eyes and bite her lip. That would be a crime.

When she moaned. Even louder than before. He knew. Without wasting time. He grabbed her waist. Hitting just the right spot. The heat rose. Their gasps loud enough to drown in the music. Lewis watched her rock against him. Like it was the best unseen show.

His hands roamed her body. As if it could ease the fire inside him. Lewis accepted it but lost himself when he felt her soft lips on his chest. Slowly guiding towards his neck. She heard him gasp. His brow furrowed repeatedly as that whirlpool took over inside her.

"Please…" she murmured breathlessly before tightening around him. Lewis moaned. Eyes shut at her action. Not without paying attention to the way she fell apart.

"It’s okay. Take me, baby. I’ve waited an eternity for you." he confessed without filter before they both reached their peak.

"What did you say?" she asked. Stunned. As if her mind couldn’t process his words through the haze of pleasure.

"I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. And I know I was an idiot. But, baby. There’s something about you that drives me crazy." he sighed. "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Even when all I want is for you to be on top of me."

[missmadella]

Fake Dating (Tendou x Reader)

Summary: You never meant for the fake dating thing with Tendou Satori to last. It was supposed to be a simple solution — a pretend relationship to get an annoying classmate off your back. Easy. Temporary. No feelings.

Except Tendou is too good at acting in love. The pet names, the lingering touches, the way he smiles at you like you’re his entire world — it all starts to feel a little too real. And somewhere between quiet walks home, shared secrets, and the way he memorizes all your little habits, you begin to wonder… is he really pretending?

Words: 4263

The hallway buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos—students laughing, lockers slamming, and conversations bouncing off the walls. You navigated through the crowd, trying to keep your pace steady, eyes fixed ahead. You didn’t want to make eye contact, especially not with the guy who had been trailing you for the past few weeks.

And there he was again.

“Hey! Wait up!” His voice called out, loud enough to turn a few heads. You sighed quietly, quickening your steps, hoping to lose him before the next bell.

But he matched your pace, a grin plastered on his face like he was winning some private game. “You’re really something, you know that? I’ve been meaning to ask—how come you never say yes when I ask you out?”

You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m just busy, that’s all.”

He leaned a little too close, lowering his voice. “I’m sure you can make time for me if you wanted.”

Your stomach knotted. This wasn’t a friendly conversation. It wasn’t even harmless flirting anymore. It was pushing boundaries.

“I said no,” you said firmly, hoping the clarity would make him back off.

But he just laughed, the kind of laugh that doesn’t feel good. “Come on, don’t be like that. You don’t have to be so cold.”

You took a step back, nearly bumping into your locker. The crowded hallway felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls closing in.

Just as you were about to repeat yourself, a shadow appeared beside you, solid and calm.

“Hey, hey, back off, dude,” Tendou’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, cool but sharp. His grin was that familiar mix of mischief and confidence. “You’ve been bothering my girl enough.”

The guy blinked, surprised. “What—?”

Tendou stepped closer, lowering his voice but making sure you could hear every word. “Here’s the deal. She’s not interested. Not now, not ever. So maybe try taking a hint before you embarrass yourself any further.”

You glanced at Tendou, relief washing over you. His presence made the uncomfortable weight lift a little.

The persistent guy scoffed but backed off, disappearing into the crowd.

Tendou turned to you, eyes glinting. “You okay?”

You nodded, exhaling the tension you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Thanks. I thought I was going to have to scream or something.”

He laughed, a low, easy sound. “Nah, I got you covered. But hey, I’ve got a better idea.”

You looked at him, curious.

“What if I pretend to be your boyfriend for a bit? Fake dating to scare off any other idiots like that guy.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Think about it—no one messes with you if you’ve got me on your side.”

You hesitated, then a small smile tugged at your lips. “And you’re doing this… why exactly?”

Tendou’s grin widened, eyes twinkling. “Because it sounds like fun. And because I like having an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Your heart skipped, but you tried to play it cool. “Alright, but if you start calling me cheesy pet names, I’m done.”

He winked. “Between us? No promises.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

At first, it was just supposed to be fake. A simple deal. You were tired of the unwanted attention, the classmate who just wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Tendou—odd, clever Tendou—offered a solution with a lopsided grin and eyes a little too sharp to be innocent.

“Fake dating,” he’d said, “easy fix. Nobody messes with someone who’s already taken. Especially not by someone like me.” You’d laughed, thinking it was a joke. But by the next morning, his arm was already slung over your shoulders, his voice close to your ear, lazy and amused as he greeted you with a casual, “Good morning, babe,” like he’d been doing it for years.

You tried not to react—tried to remember that this was all an act—but he made it difficult. He didn’t half-ass anything. If people were watching, Tendou played it up: whispering jokes that made you laugh too loudly in class, stealing your snacks during lunch with an exaggerated “What’s mine is yours,” or reaching over just to adjust a hair clip or a sleeve like it was second nature. You thought it would feel weird, but it didn’t. Not really. The weirdest part was how natural it became.

He started walking you home. Waiting outside your clubroom. Holding your books. Offering up his scarf when you forgot yours on a windy morning, even though his ears turned red from the cold. When you asked him why he was going so far for a fake relationship, he only shrugged and said, “I’m very committed to my roles.” That was Tendou—always playing, always dodging sincerity with a joke. But sometimes, between the lines, you caught something real.

Like the way his eyes lingered a little too long when you laughed. Or how he looked away, just slightly, when you got close. You started to look for those cracks in the performance not because you were suspicious, but because a part of you hoped they meant something.

By the end of the week, things felt… different. You found yourself waiting for him. Watching the door during class changes, listening for his footsteps. His voice had become familiar. His presence, comforting. You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between the rooftop lunches and the quiet moments walking home, you stopped pretending. At least on your end.

But not everyone saw what you saw in him.

You were washing your hands in the bathroom one afternoon when two girls walked in, their voices low, but not nearly quiet enough.

“Did you see them again today? She’s still dating Tendou.”

“I know, right? It’s so weird. He’s creepy. Like, actually scary.”

“I heard he used to talk to himself in class. Always muttering. And he watches people too much. He gives me the chills.”

You froze, hand paused mid-dry. Your stomach twisted—not in surprise, but in something colder. Anger.

“And her?” the first girl said. “She could do so much better. It’s kind of sad, honestly. Like, why settle for someone so—”

You stepped out from around the corner before she could finish.

They jumped. “Oh. We didn’t know anyone else was in here—”

“I bet,” you said, your voice calm but flat.

One of them offered a nervous laugh. “We didn’t mean it like—”

“No,” you interrupted. “You did. You meant every word.”

They opened their mouths to respond, but you weren’t interested in their excuses.

“You don’t know him. You think just because someone is quiet, or different, or doesn’t plaster a fake smile across their face all the time, it makes them less human?” You stared straight at them, your voice rising just slightly. “Tendou is one of the kindest people I know. He notices things no one else does. He listens—really listens—when you talk. He remembers things like how you take your tea or what song makes you smile when you’re sad. He shows up. Every single day.”

Their faces turned red, embarrassed or uncomfortable—you didn’t care which.

“I’m with him because I want to be,” you continued, chest tightening. “Not because I’m desperate, not because I feel sorry for him, and sure as hell not because I ‘settled.’ I chose him. And honestly? He’s the one settling by being with someone like me.”

The silence was thick.

You looked between them one last time, then turned to leave. Your hands were shaking—not from fear, but from how right it had felt to say it out loud. Not because you had to. Not because of some fake dating deal. But because you meant it.

And when you stepped out into the hallway, your eyes scanned instinctively—searching—and found him. Leaning against the lockers, like always. Slouched posture. That same half-smile playing on his lips when he saw you. Like you were his favorite part of the day.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, brows twitching slightly at the look on your face. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… had to deal with some noise.”

He tilted his head, curious. But he didn’t push.

You reached for his hand—this time on your own. His eyes flicked down in surprise before he curled his fingers around yours gently, warm and steady.

Neither of you said anything right away. You just stood there for a second, in the middle of the hallway chaos, holding hands like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And for the first time, you weren’t faking anything.

________________________________________________________________________________

Tendou never expected the lie to last this long.

When he first offered to be your “fake boyfriend,” it was on impulse—part amusement, part curiosity. He didn’t think you’d take him seriously. People didn’t, usually. Not for anything that mattered.

But you’d agreed. Not with pity or awkward hesitation, but with a spark of humor in your eyes, like you could play the game too. That’s what drew him in.

The first few days were fun. He got to be loud, absurd, dramatic—wrap his arm around your shoulders, call you silly pet names, soak in the looks people gave you both in the hallway. It was a performance. And Tendou had always been good at playing roles.

But it stopped feeling like a role so quickly, it scared him.

It was in the small things.

The way you always turned slightly toward him when he talked, like you wanted to hear more. The way you handed him half your lunch without asking if he wanted some. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him—not like you were tolerating him, not like you were trying to figure out what was wrong with him, but like… you liked being there. With him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

Every time you laughed at his stupid jokes, something tugged in his chest. Every time your hand brushed his and didn’t flinch away, he had to remind himself this was fake. A temporary arrangement. A favor.

He knew the rules. He knew where this led if he forgot them.

So he tried not to think about how much he liked walking you home. How he remembered your favorite gum flavor. How he started showing up to school five minutes early just to catch you at your locker.

He didn’t mean to fall for you. But Tendou Satori never got to have things like this—not for real—so he figured he could borrow it for a while.

Just a while longer.

________________________________________________________________________

He was heading back from gym class when he heard it.

Two first-years were talking a little too loud near the vending machines. They hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Did you hear what that girl said? The one who’s dating Tendou?”

“Which one?”

“You know, the tall one? She totally went off on some girls in the bathroom. Said Tendou was kind and smart and all this stuff. She told them off hard. Like… defended him.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. She even said he could do better than her. Like, she meant it. Crazy, right?”

Tendou froze mid-step.

The hallway went silent in his head. The hum of the lights, the low murmur of other students—it all blurred away.

She defended him.

Not with pity. Not like a favor. Not because someone made her. Because she wanted to.

And she didn’t just shut them down. She… meant it.

His breath caught. His fingers, cold from earlier, twitched as they curled into a loose fist against his chest.

He stepped back around the corner, leaned against the wall, and pressed his palm right over his heart.

It was racing.

Hard. Loud. Like his chest couldn’t contain it.

He stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, a smile pulling at the edge of his mouth before he could stop it.

You said he was kind.

You said he was smart.

You said he could do better than you.

He shook his head, exhaling a shaky laugh, hand still flat over his heart like he needed to hold it in place.

What did I do to deserve that?

It wasn’t fake for you anymore.

It never stopped being real for him.

And suddenly, the fear that had lived in his bones—fear that you’d leave once the act was over, that you’d pull away the second it got too real—started to ease.

Because maybe, just maybe, you were falling too.

___________________________________________________________________________

He didn’t say anything the day he heard what you said in the bathroom.

He could’ve. The words had been sitting on his tongue the entire time you talked that afternoon—something about your literature class, your brows pulled together in that way they always did when you were thinking too hard. He could’ve interrupted you and said it, just like that:

I heard what you said about me.

But he didn’t. Because it felt… sacred. Like if he brought it up too fast, it might break apart in his hands.

So instead, he just looked at you. Let himself really look at you.

And everything shifted.

He used to be playful with you. Always teasing, always slipping in sarcastic nicknames or dramatic declarations—“Ah, my radiant moonbeam, you’ve returned!” But now, the jokes came slower. The pet names softened. He didn’t stop calling you cute things—but now he said them like he meant it.

Like when you sat beside him during lunch and sighed over your math homework, he leaned closer and said, quieter than usual, “You always furrow your eyebrows when you’re stuck on numbers. It’s cute.”

Not funny. Not weird. Just… cute.

You blinked at him. The moment passed. But something settled behind your eyes.

Another day, walking home beside you, he didn’t reach for your hand like he usually did—he offered it. Palm open. Gentle. Waiting. When you took it, he didn’t swing it dramatically like he used to. He just held it. Still and steady. Like he was grounding himself there.

The first time you noticed, truly noticed, was at the convenience store.

You were looking at candy, squinting between two flavors. “Which do you think?” you asked, holding both up.

And Tendou, instead of cracking a joke about one being a secret love potion, just tilted his head and said, quietly, “That one. You always chew that one when you’re nervous. You’ll probably want it before that presentation tomorrow.”

You stared at him.

Not because of the candy. But because of the way he said it. Like he hadn’t even thought about it. Like it wasn’t weird that he’d remembered something so small about you. Like he’d been noticing you all along.

Because he had.

And more and more, you started to notice him noticing you. The way he looked at you didn’t feel like part of the act anymore. It felt… honest. Raw, even. And in those moments—when his fingers brushed yours and lingered just a second longer, when his gaze dropped to your lips then darted away again—you started to wonder:

Maybe he wasn’t faking either.

Not anymore.

__________________________________________________________________________

You noticed it slowly—Tendou’s withdrawal.

Not dramatic. Not loud. But little things. The way his hand started hesitating before reaching for yours. How he looked away faster when your eyes met. The quieter tone in his voice, the way he laughed with a little too much force sometimes, like he was trying to make things feel normal again.

He wasn’t teasing you as much. He wasn’t leaning in close anymore. He was still there—he still waited outside your classroom, still sent you weird memes and sat next to you at lunch—but something had shifted. As if a wall had come back up. One you thought you’d already gotten past.

You gave it time. Gave him time.

But when he left early one afternoon without walking you home—just a quick, mumbled excuse and a wave you barely caught—you knew something was wrong.

You didn’t hesitate. You went after him.

You found him sitting on the back stairs behind the gym, legs drawn up, arms draped over his knees, head tilted back like he was trying to melt into the concrete wall behind him.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just… tired.

“…Hey,” you said, quietly.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey.”

You sat beside him. Close, but not touching. “You’re pulling away.”

His jaw tensed. “Didn’t mean to.”

“You are anyway.”

A pause.

Then he exhaled, almost a laugh, except it wasn’t funny. “It’s easier.”

“Easier than what?”

He shrugged. “Easier than pretending. Easier than hoping.”

You looked at him, but he kept his eyes forward, locked on some invisible point in the distance.

“Tendou…”

His voice cracked. Just a little.

“I didn’t think it’d last this long,” he said. “The whole fake thing. I thought you’d get tired of it after a week. I figured you’d realize I was weird or annoying or not worth the trouble, and it’d all just… fade out. And I’d be okay with that. I’ve always been okay with people leaving.”

You flinched.

He kept going, voice soft and fast, like if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start again.

“But then you didn’t leave. You stayed. And it started to feel real. And that scared me more than anything. Because if it’s real, then it can break. And if it breaks, that’s my fault. And I don’t—I can’t—”

He swallowed hard.

“I can’t pretend anymore, okay?” he said, voice rising slightly. “I can’t keep walking around like this is just for show. I like you. I—God, I really like you. And I hate how much I want this. How much I want you. And I know it’s stupid because—because why would you ever want someone like me, right? I’m not pretty or smart or easy or safe. I’m just… I’m just me. Weird and too much and—”

“Tendou.”

He stopped.

You turned toward him fully. And before he could say anything else—before he could apologize for his own existence or hide behind his nervous rambling again—you reached out, slid your hand along his jaw, and kissed him.

It was soft. And certain.

His breath caught halfway through it, like he hadn’t believed it was real.

You leaned back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

He stared at you. Wide-eyed. Vulnerable. Like everything he’d ever felt was teetering right at the surface, just one wrong word away from falling apart.

“I don’t want someone safe,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you. The too-much parts. The real parts. The parts you think nobody could ever love.”

He blinked fast. Like he didn’t know how to believe you.

So you kissed him again.

And this time, he kissed you back.

Slow, trembling, and full of everything he hadn’t known how to say.

___________________________________________________________________________

You barely had time to breathe before Tendou leaned in again.

His lips found yours like he’d been holding himself back for too long — and now that he had you, now that he knew, he couldn’t stop. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, a kind of hunger that came from months of wanting and weeks of pretending. His hands were warm and a little shaky as they found your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you into him like he needed to be sure you were really there.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, matching his urgency, his want.

He pulled back for air, barely a breath apart. His eyes were glassy, lips kiss-bruised, cheeks pink with heat and something deeper.

“God,” he murmured, voice breaking like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I like you so much. It’s stupid. It hurts.”

You let out a quiet laugh, thumb brushing across his cheekbone, soft and grounding. “It’s not stupid.”

“It feels stupid,” he whispered, forehead leaning against yours. “Because I’ve been pretending not to care so long. And now I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I want you all the time. I want to kiss you like this forever.”

Your heart was pounding, but your voice was steady.

“I like you too, Satori. So much it’s ridiculous.”

That was all it took.

Tendou’s breath hitched — and then he surged forward, kissing you like he’d gone breathless from holding it in. His hands slid to your cheeks, thumbs brushing your skin as he pressed his mouth to yours again and again, like he couldn’t believe it was allowed now.

And you kissed him back, just as eagerly, your hands tugging him closer, your fingers curling into his hair.

His kisses were slow but intense, drawn-out like he was savoring every second — your lips, the soft sighs you let out against his mouth, the warmth of your palms cupping his jaw. He pulled back for air, just barely, lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You feel like a dream.”

You smiled against his mouth. “I’m very real. Try again if you don’t believe me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His lips found yours again — slower this time, deeper. He kissed you like he wanted to memorize it. Like he was finally free to love you the way he’d wanted to all along. He tilted his head, nudging closer, chasing every tiny movement you made. When you pulled away to breathe, he followed — kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheekbone. “I like you,” he murmured between kisses. “I like you. I can’t stop saying it. I like you so much it’s insane.”

You giggled, breathless. “Say it again.”

He kissed you, and kissed you again, whispering against your lips, “I like you. I like you. I love kissing you. I can’t stop.”

Your hands slid around his neck, pulling him even closer. “Good. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He kissed you until your legs went numb from sitting on the stairs, until your heart felt like it could burst from how warm everything was. Until the line between pretending and feeling was completely gone — like it had never existed in the first place.

You were his now. And he was yours.

And every kiss said it better than words ever could.

___________________________________________________________________________

It’s late when you finally curl up together — not too late, just late enough that the sky outside Tendou’s window is a soft, deep navy, the kind of blue that makes the world feel quieter. The TV is still playing something, low and mostly forgotten, a background hum to the way his hand moves slowly up and down your back.

You’re lying against his chest, your leg tucked over his, his hoodie drowning you in warmth and his scent. Every now and then, he dips his head down to press a kiss into your hair, like it’s second nature. No teasing, no play. Just affection, given freely.

“I like this,” you murmur into the soft cotton of his shirt.

He hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re warm. And you smell like those strawberry candies you always have hidden in your bag.”

He chuckles, the sound low and fuzzy in his chest. “That’s because I do have them hidden in my bag. I’m a man of habit.”

You glance up at him with a little smile. “A predictable man.”

His mouth quirks at the corner. “Only for you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward — never awkward, not with him. Just soft.

You shift slightly, enough to look up at him. “You’re really not pretending anymore, huh?”

Tendou blinks, then exhales like the question reaches somewhere deep. He leans down and kisses you — slow and sweet, nothing hurried about it — then presses his forehead to yours.

“Not even a little,” he whispers. “This is the most real thing I’ve ever had.”

You tuck yourself closer to him, your hand resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat. It’s steady now. Not fast and panicked like the first time. Just… steady. Safe.

He kisses your temple again. Then your cheek. Then your jaw. He’s not trying to start anything — it’s not about that. It’s just him, giving, because he can. Because he wants to. Because you’re his now, and he still hasn’t gotten over the fact that he gets to love you like this — openly, quietly, whenever he wants.

“Hey,” he says, fingers brushing up under your shirt to gently trace your spine, “is it weird that I still get nervous around you sometimes?”

You laugh, turning your face into his neck. “You? Nervous? You kiss me like you’ve done it a thousand times in your dreams.”

“Because I have,” he says without missing a beat. “Don’t expose me like this.”

You laugh harder, and he grins — that goofy, honest grin he only wears when it’s just the two of you, when he doesn’t have to be clever or sharp or anything but Satori.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you murmur.

His grin softens.

“Yeah,” he says, tugging you even closer, until you’re completely tangled up in him. “Me too.”

You fall asleep like that — curled in each other’s warmth, with the sound of the TV murmuring softly in the background, and the weight of everything unspoken resting gently between your joined hands.

There’s no pretending anymore.

Just love. Real and quiet and safe.