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orangeblossomsintheair · 6 months ago

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RULE #2 | CS55

summary : "You promised," he choked out. "You promised you wouldn’t break rule two."

warning/s : sickness, vomiting, hurt/no comfort, death

an : yall have been begging for angst so 🤷🏽 here’s pt 1 of my dead wives series

Carlos Sainz loves you. It is inevitable. It is woven into the fabric of who he is. Just as the earth revolves around the sun, just as a fire burns.

Some things in this world are simply destined to be, and his love for you is one of them.

He remembers the first time he saw you like it happened yesterday.

College had been a blur of stress and sleepless nights for him, drowning in a relentless tide of engineering coursework, circuits, and mechanics that left no room for anything else.

Then you walked into his life, unannounced, unassuming, and shattered the monotony with a force he couldn’t comprehend.

You had been a medical student, your schedule just as demanding, yet you carried yourself with a lightness that seemed impossible.

He remembers watching you in the library, bent over your notes, your lips moving slightly as you memorized terms he couldn’t begin to pronounce.

He hadn’t meant to stare. But then you’d looked up, catching his eye, and smiled. It was the kind of smile that stuck with him, that sank its claws into his mind and refused to let go.

The first time you laughed at one of his jokes, something about thermodynamics, of all things, he had stared at you, stunned, like the world had stopped spinning for just a moment.

And when you’d matched his nerdy humor with a quip of your own, so quick and sharp that he was left speechless, he had known.

That night, he went home and called his sister, still dazed, still unable to believe what had happened.

"I've met the love of my life," he’d told her, voice shaking with an excitement that bubbled over uncontrollably.

"You’re being ridiculous," she’d replied, unimpressed, as always. "You don’t even know her."

But he had known.

—

It had started as a joke.

One of those silly, late-night conversations in the library, where exhaustion made everything funnier than it really was.

The campus was dead silent that night, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of pages being turned. It was nearly 2 a.m., the kind of hour where the world felt unreal, where time stretched and blurred, where reality felt softer at the edges.

Carlos had been sitting across from you, his laptop open to a problem set he wasn’t even pretending to understand anymore.

His fingers drummed against the table as he watched you work, hunched over your thick textbook, scribbling furiously.

You looked up, catching his stare. “What?”

Carlos smirked. “Nothing. Just thinking how much easier my life would be if I had your brain.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “And I was just thinking how much better mine would be if I had your charm. You could probably flirt your way into a free degree.”

“Or at least free snacks from the vending machine,” he added, grinning.

You laughed, the sound soft but rich, the kind that still echoed in his mind years later.

Then, suddenly, his expression shifted. Something thoughtful creeping into his gaze. “We should make a pact.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A pact?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward. “Rules for life. So we don’t screw things up.”

Intrigued, you set your pen down. “Okay. Rule number one?”

“No betraying each other.”

You smiled, nodding. “Agreed. No betrayal.” You tapped a finger against your chin. “What’s rule number two?”

Carlos hesitated, then, with mock seriousness, leaned in like he was about to tell you the secret to the universe. “No one dies.”

You barked out a laugh, the librarian across the room shooting you a glare. “That’s your rule?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It’s non-negotiable.”

Shaking your head, you held out your hand. “Fine. No betraying each other. No one dies. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, gripping your hand firmly.

At the time, it had been a joke. Just another of a thousand little moments between the two of you.

Carlos had no idea then how much those words would mean to him.

—

The first time you got sick, really sick, Carlos didn’t take it seriously.

It was a cough at first. A rough, hacking thing that made you wince but still had you waving him off with a half-smile.

"Relax, cariño," you’d said, voice scratchy but amused. "It’s just a cold."

Carlos narrowed his eyes at you, unconvinced. “You have a fever.”

"It’s a dramatic fever," you shot back, tugging the blanket up over your shoulders. "I’m merely suffering for the aesthetic."

He snorted, shaking his head. “Dramatic is right.”

He had kissed your forehead that night, tucking you into his side, his lips warm against your too-hot skin. And you had sighed, sinking into him like you always did, like you belonged there.

It had been easy then.

A flu, he’d told himself. Something temporary.

Nothing permanent. Nothing real.

—

But the cough never really went away.

Neither did the fevers, or the way your limbs felt heavier with each passing day.

You stopped stealing fries off his plate. Stopped nudging him awake in the mornings, rolling your eyes at how deeply he slept. Stopped teasing him about the way he could fall asleep anywhere.

On a plane, in a car, once even in the middle of a club when the music was loud enough to shake the walls.

One afternoon, when you had been too tired to get out of bed, he had finally said it out loud.

"Maybe we should see a doctor."

You had smiled at him, but it was too soft, too thin. "It’s nothing, Carlos. I just need rest."

He had believed you.

God help him, he had wanted to believe you.

—

The hospital came later.

By then, it wasn’t something you could wave away with a joke, wasn’t something you could cover up with sheer willpower.

By then, you were struggling to catch your breath after walking across the room.

By then, Carlos had started waking up in the middle of the night to find you curled in on yourself, your whole body trembling, your hands clenched into fists beneath the sheets.

By then, even you had stopped pretending.

"Okay," you had whispered, one night, your fingers gripping his. "Maybe it’s not just a cold."

Carlos had swallowed hard, his throat tight. But he had smiled anyway, because that was what he did. He stayed steady, he stayed strong, even when the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

"No pasa nada," he had murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We’ll figure it out."

And for a while, just a little while, you both still believed that was true.

—

The early hospital visits weren’t so bad.

You made them an adventure, the way you did with everything.

"We should start a ranking system," you had said one day, swinging your legs over the side of the exam table. Best hospital coffee. Best waiting room magazines. Best nurses who let me steal extra blankets."

Carlos grinned, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "That depends. Is this going to be a five-star system, or are we working on a ten-point scale?"

"Oh, five stars, obviously," you said, deadly serious. “We have to account for dramatic flair.”

"And yet you still insist you’re not dramatic."

"I contain multitudes, Carlos."

And God, you were still you then.

A little tired, a little pale, but still full of light. Still brimming with something sharp and teasing and warm.

Carlos had let himself believe it would last.

That the doctors would find the problem and fix it. That this was a detour, not a dead end.

That you were too strong for this.

That he would not have to watch you disappear, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the girl who had once laughed in the middle of a silent library, who had once stood beside him and made a promise that neither of you ever really thought would matter.

—

Some nights were better than others.

There were nights when you were yourself again. When you teased him about the dark circles beneath his eyes, your voice carrying that familiar warmth, something alive and teasing and so you that he could almost convince himself this was temporary.

That this, this hospital bed, these wires, these endless nights of waiting, was just a phase, something the two of you would look back on one day and laugh about.

"You look like hell," you’d whisper, your voice hoarse but still edged with amusement.

Carlos would scoff, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead. "And you look stunning, obviously."

You'd grin, even as exhaustion weighed down your eyelids. "I try."

Nights like those, he let himself believe.

But then there were nights like this.

Nights when you couldn't stop shaking from the pain, your body curling in on itself as he held you, whispering reassurances you were too far gone to hear. Nights when you sobbed into his chest, when your breath came in ragged, broken gasps, when you whispered, "I can't do this anymore, Carlos. I can't."

And Carlos, who had spent his entire life fixing things, who had built his world on the certainty that every problem had a solution, could do nothing.

So he held you. Ran his fingers through your hair. Pressed desperate kisses to your temple.

And when sleep finally dragged you under, he would slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before collapsing to the floor.

He would grip the sink so hard his fingers went numb, bow his head until his forehead pressed against the cold tile.

His body would shake with the weight of it, with the sheer unfairness of it all, with the grief that felt too large to be contained within his chest.

Carlos Sainz was not a religious man.

But on nights like these, he prayed.

Begged.

For a miracle. For a cure. For just a little more time.

—

One night, when your breathing was too shallow, too slow, something in him snapped.

The moment he noticed it, the unnatural stillness, the faintest hitch in the beeping of the monitors, he was out of his chair, panic sharp and immediate in his chest.

His hands trembled as he pressed the call button.

"Nurse," he barked, his voice hoarse. "Something's wrong."

The nurses rushed in, their voices a blur, their hands moving quickly as they adjusted your oxygen, checked your vitals. Carlos stood frozen, helpless, as they worked.

And then, as quickly as the panic had come, the moment passed. Your breathing steadied. The machines quieted.

And Carlos, who had spent the last several minutes standing motionless, fists clenched, lungs burning, finally let himself collapse into the chair beside your bed.

His elbows rested on his knees, his head dropping into his hands. He tried to steady his own breathing, tried to remind himself that you were still here.

You were still here

You were still here.

A moment later, he felt the faintest touch on his arm.

Carlos lifted his head so fast it made him dizzy.

Your fingers barely managed to curl around his wrist, your touch so weak he could barely feel it. But your eyes were open, heavy-lidded and exhausted, searching for him.

"Hey," he whispered. His voice felt raw, scraped down to nothing.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Carlos exhaled shakily, reaching out to press a hand against your cheek. Your skin was too warm, feverish, but you leaned into his touch anyway.

"You scared me," he admitted, his voice thick.

You tried to smile. It didn't reach your eyes.

Carlos swallowed, his throat burning. He forced himself to hold your gaze, even as the words clawed their way out of his chest, raw and desperate and entirely true.

"You promised," he choked out. "You promised you wouldn’t break rule number two."

A flicker of something passed through your expression. Regret, sadness, something heavier than the both of you combined.

"Carlos," you whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No. You don’t get to break this one. You don’t."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He could see it, the truth you were too kind to say out loud. The truth he refused to accept.

Carlos bent down, pressing his forehead to your knuckles. His grip on your hand was too tight, but he couldn't make himself let go.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don’t leave me."

You didn’t answer.

And somehow, that silence was worse than anything else.

—

Days passed. Then weeks.

Carlos barely left your side. He learned the names of every nurse on the floor. Memorized the dosages of your medications. Knew the precise moment when your painkillers would wear off, when you'd need him to press the call button before you were in too much agony to speak.

And still, he held on.

Because Carlos Sainz loves you.

It is inevitable. It is constant. It is everything.

And even as your breaths grew shallower, even as your hands trembled when you reached for him, even as the hope he had clung to for so long withered beneath the weight of reality-

He stayed.

—

One night, when exhaustion was too heavy for you to fight, you whispered, “You should go home, Carlos. You need rest.”

Carlos exhaled sharply. Shook his head. "I am home."

You tried to argue, but he silenced you with a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. He could feel your pulse beneath his lips, slow and unsteady.

"I’m not going anywhere."

You sighed, a soft exhale against his shoulder, and for a moment, for a moment, he let himself pretend everything was okay.

—

He lost count of the days.

There was no clear marker for when hope turned into grief. No defining moment where he realized you weren’t going to make it.

It just happened.

Like a tide pulling out to sea.

Like the quiet between heartbeats.

A promise broken, too softly to hear.

And when you were finally gone, when the world felt too quiet, too empty, too wrong, Carlos sat in the chair beside your bed, your hand still in his.

And he whispered, “You broke the rules.”

---

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mikkies · 1 month ago

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「 NEVER THOUGHT I'D FIND YOU, BUT YOU'RE HERE, AND SO I LOVE YOU. 」

007n7 x GN! Reader (and C00lkidd I guess..)

warnings: none

notes: I got confused but.. 🫦

THE QUIET HUM of the room was accompanied by the soft scratching of pencil against paper, a gentle rhythm that matched the warmth surrounding you. You sat comfortably between 007n7’s legs, his arms lazily draped around you, his body a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. His head was nestled into the crook of your neck, his messy brown hair tickling your cheek with each soft, steady breath.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a mixture of subtle spice and warmth, blending with the earthy hint of rain from earlier in the day. It grounded you, reminding you of him and everything you’d built together despite the chaos of your lives. Occasionally, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, the roughness of his stubble brushing your skin and sending a comforting shiver down your spine.

“What are you drawing?” His voice was low, almost a purr, as he peeked over your shoulder, his chin lightly resting there.

You chuckled, holding up the half-finished doodle of a little red humanoid doing an exaggerated, silly dance. “Guess.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, but before he could answer, the door to your shared room creaked open. The familiar sound drew both of your gazes toward the small figure standing in the doorway.

C00lkidd stood there, his crimson skin practically glowing against the soft light in the room. His dark red shirt, emblazoned with the bold words “Team C00lkidd Join Today!” hung slightly askew, and his blank pants were a little rumpled from an earlier adventure. In one hand, he clutched a stack of papers, and in the other, a stubby pencil that looked as though it had seen better days.

“I’m lonely,” he declared matter-of-factly, his tone both direct and endearing. Without waiting for an invitation, he made his way to the bed with a determined stride, climbing up and plopping himself beside you.

His crimson face scrunched as he glanced at your drawing. “Is that supposed to be me?” His tone teetered between offense and pride, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

You laughed, pulling him closer with one arm while 007n7 shifted slightly to make room for his son. “Of course! Who else could it be?”

C00lkidd gave a toothy grin that showcased his chaotic charm before squirming his way between you and his dad. He pressed his back against 007n7’s chest and spread his papers across the bed like an artist unveiling his gallery, quickly starting to scribble something with his usual unrestrained energy.

“You’re hogging all the space,” 007n7 muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. He adjusted his hold on you, making sure you were still snug against him. Pressing his forehead gently against the back of your head, he murmured, “Looks like we’ve got a third wheel.”

C00lkidd looked up from his scribbling, his red eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’m the best wheel.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as the three of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. The bed became a chaotic nest of doodles, scattered pencils, and laughter. C00lkidd’s creative energy was infectious as he bounced between drawings, sometimes demanding you or 007n7 look at his latest masterpiece with an expectant grin.

“See? This one is me fighting a dragon!” he exclaimed, holding up a haphazard but undeniably charming drawing of a red figure wielding an oversized sword.

“That’s pretty epic,” 007n7 commented, his voice laced with pride as he ruffled his son’s red hair.

“Of course, it’s epic,” C00lkidd replied with mock seriousness. “It’s me.”

While C00lkidd scribbled furiously, occasionally stealing glances at your drawings, 007n7 occupied himself by tracing lazy patterns on your arm. His touch was gentle, almost absentminded, but it carried a sense of grounding that made you lean further into his embrace. Every so often, he pressed another kiss to your temple or murmured something soft against your hair, his voice a soothing lull that contrasted beautifully with C00lkidd’s excited chatter.

The room felt like its own little universe, insulated from the outside world. The mess of your lives, the chaos, the regrets—all of it faded into the background. Here, in this moment, you were simply a family, tangled together in warmth and love.

C00lkidd paused his frantic drawing to lean against you, his small, warm body pressing against your side. “You guys are so lucky to have me,” he announced, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

007n7 chuckled, his laugh rumbling softly against your back. “Yeah, we are, kid.”

“And I’m lucky to have you too,” C00lkidd added in a quieter voice, his chaotic energy momentarily replaced by sincerity.

The weight of his words settled over the three of you, filling the room with an even deeper sense of connection. You reached out, ruffling his hair affectionately as 007n7 tightened his hold around both of you.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, it didn’t matter how broken or messy life was. Here, in this little pocket of time, you were whole.

#* ∙ ✰ ◞ 미키 ✗ posts.#forsaken #forsaken x reader #007n7 x reader #forsaken 007n7 #007n7 #007n7 forsaken #c00lkidd #c00lk1dd forsaken #forsaken x you #x reader #forsaken c00lkidd #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken

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jburrgf · 6 months ago

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Friends; The Love Trope Series

You Belong With Me, Part. 1

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: you and joe are best friends since day one. both of you are on yours last year of high school. being part of the graduation committee means a lot to you, and you are all 100% with prom preparations. on the other side, joe is there, helping you like always. but now, things hit different when you realize he’s not just a high school sweetheart: joe burrow is the love of your whole life.

° playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn’t Be More In Love, The 1975

◦From the Love Trope Series. Part II / Part III / Part IV

THE PLAINS, OHIO — SPRING 2015

JOE BURROW.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a dropped tray. I leaned back in my chair, balancing it precariously on two legs as I half-listened to my teammates debating the best dunk from last night's school game.

My attention, though, was elsewhere. It always was these days.

“Bro, you’re staring again.”

I turned, scowling at Sam, one of my teammates. He was grinning like he’d just caught me red-handed, which, to be fair, he had.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Sam said, dragging out the words. “Just like you weren’t staring yesterday when she was hanging up those prom posters.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush him off, but the heat creeping up my neck gave me away. He wasn’t wrong. I had been staring.

It wasn’t like I could help it. Y/N had been my best friend since we were five years old, but somewhere along the line, things changed. It was subtle at first—a skipped heartbeat here, a lingering glance there. By sophomore year, I’d gone from thinking she was cute in that “best friend” way to realizing I was completely, hopelessly in love with her.

And now? Now I was just the idiot who couldn’t tell her.

Y/N was sitting at the table near the windows, her head bent over a clipboard, her pen scribbling furiously. Her lips moved as she mouthed whatever notes she was jotting down, and her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was focused. It was one of those little things about her that I couldn’t help but find endearing—like the way she’d unconsciously tap her pen against her cheek when she was thinking or how her voice would rise just a bit when she got excited about something. Watching her now, so completely absorbed, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, even if the ache in my chest reminded me why I kept these thoughts to myself. She had been like this for weeks—wrapped up in her role on the prom committee. She’d tell me about it every chance she got, her voice lighting up as she described color schemes, playlists, and centerpieces. It was cute, really, how excited she was.

But then there was him.

Brian Harris, the shooting guard from our basketball team, sauntered over to Y/N’s table. He was the type who thrived on attention, always quick with a joke or a flashy move to keep the spotlight on him. Brian and I didn’t exactly get along—Brian’s cocky demeanor had rubbed me the wrong way since freshman year, and our clashes during practice, when I used to play basketball, were almost legendary. I stiffened. He leaned on the edge of her table, his stupid, cocky grin plastered across his face as he said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted at the sound.

He always wanted everything that I had, My talent, my position, my girl. And after I left basketball for good and he became captain, he’s on the run of the other things that he misses.

“Dude, you’re gonna snap that chair if you keep leaning back like that,” Josh, one of my friends, said, smirking.

“Shut up,” I muttered, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs with a thud.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy,” Sam teased, following my gaze. “Ah, I see. Miller’s making a move on Y/N, huh?”

“He’s not making a move,” I snapped, even though the words felt hollow. Of course he was making a move. The guy was a known flirt, and Y/N was...well, Y/N. Beautiful, smart, funny. She had this way of making everyone feel like they mattered, and apparently, Brian Harris wasn’t immune to her charm.

“Relax, man. She’s your best friend. It’s not like she’d go for him,” Josh said, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Unless you’re finally ready to admit you’re into her,” Sam said, grinning from a distance.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? Josh wasn’t going to believe me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I believed myself anymore.

Y/N

Prom committee meetings were the highlight of my week lately. Sure, they were hectic, and half the time I felt like I was herding cats trying to get everyone to agree on something, but it was worth it. This was *our* prom, and I wanted it to be perfect.

Today, I was finalizing the seating chart when Brian Harris’s shadow fell over my table. I looked up, surprised to see him smiling down at me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth. “You’re working hard over here. Need a break?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not really. There’s too much to do.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “Even superheroes need a break.”

I laughed, though it felt more polite than genuine. The truth was, Brian’s attention did nothing on me. Sure, it was nice to be noticed, but his charm felt too practiced, too rehearsed. Deep down, I knew the only person whose approval I wanted was Joe’s. Brian was nice and all, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy I’d go out of my way to talk to. Still, it was flattering that he was paying attention to me. It wasn’t like I had guys lining up to flirt with me.

“Maybe later,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe watching us from across the cafeteria. His jaw was clenched, and he was gripping his water bottle so tightly I thought it might burst. I fought the urge to smile. Joe could be so obvious sometimes.

“Alright, but don’t work too hard,” Brian said, winking as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Joe appeared at my side, dropping into the seat across from me.

“What did Harris want?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice? That guy doesn’t do nice, Y/N. He was hitting on you.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice low. “He’s into you.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he… jealous?

“And what if he is?” I asked, testing the waters.

Joe’s expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can do better than him,” he muttered, his fingers drumming against the table as his gaze shifted away, like he couldn’t bear to watch me react.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words caught in my throat. How could I tell him the truth? That I didn’t care about Brian or any other guy because the only one I wanted was standing right in front of me?

Instead, I shrugged. “He’s nice.”

Joe’s expression darkened, and he took a step back. “Right. Well, I’ve got practice. See you later.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was it just my imagination, or did he sound...jealous? I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. I’d been in love with Joe for as long as I could remember, but he’d never given me any reason to think he felt the same way. Still, moments like this made me wonder.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t focus during practice that afternoon. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brian Harris leaning over Y/N’s table, making her laugh. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. She was her own person, and she could talk to whoever she wanted. But the thought of her with someone else — especially someone like Miller — made my blood boil.

“Earth to Joe,” Coach called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you planning on joining us today, or are you just here for the view?”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled, jogging back to my spot on the field.

After practice, I found myself walking toward Y/N’s locker without even thinking about it. She was standing there, talking to Tracy, one of her friends from the prom committee. When she saw me, her face lit up, and for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

“Hey,” I said, my voice soft but warm. “Long day?”

“Exhausting,” Y/n replied with a laugh. “But worth it. The decorations are coming together, thanks to you.”

“Just doing my part. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home? My truck’s right outside.” As the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but hope she’d say yes, imagining the quiet moments we could share on the drive back. My mind flickered to the idea of her sitting beside me, her laughter filling the cab, but I pushed the thought aside, afraid of reading too much into the moment.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment. “Actually, I’ve got a ride with a friend. We’re going to the party store, me and Tracy.”

“Right. Prom,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“You’re still going, right?” she asked, her tone almost...hopeful.

Of course.

With you, I thought.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Before the moment could grow awkward, Y/n stepped closer and leaned up to press a quick kiss to my cheek. I froze, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin like a brand. My heart thundered in my chest, my mind scrambling to process what had just happened. I raised a hand instinctively to touch the spot, a faint blush creeping up my neck as I tried to fight back a grin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent a surge of hope through I that he couldn’t ignore. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Joe.”

I froze again, my heart pounding as her words echoed in my mind. But when I tried to talk again, she was already gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the hallway with my heart in my hands.

Y/N

As Tracy and I drove to the party supply store, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Joe’s face when I told him I didn’t need a ride. He’d seemed...off. Almost sad. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

“So,” Tracy said, breaking the silence. “When are you finally going to tell Joe how you feel?”

I nearly choked on my soda. “What? I don’t—”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re into him. Well, everyone except Joe, apparently.”

I sighed, sinking lower in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet firm, as if daring me to challenge her judgment. My heart stuttered at her certainty, and for a moment, I wondered if Tracy knew something I didn’t. Was I missing signs? Or was I just too afraid to believe she might be right? The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying, a dangerous hope I wasn’t ready to fully embrace. “Because from where I’m standing, he’s just as into you as you are into him.”

Could she be right? The thought sent a flicker of hope through me, but I quickly pushed it down. Joe and I were best friends, and I couldn’t risk losing that. Even if it meant keeping my feelings to myself.

For now.

JOE BURROW

I watched her walk to her car, her hair catching the golden light of the setting sun, and I wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t I just say it? Why couldn’t I tell her that seeing Brian flirt with her had made me feel like I was losing my mind? That the thought of anyone else being close to her made my chest ache?

Because you’re a coward, Burrow.

I climbed into my truck and gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Sam’s voice echoed in my head: You should just ask her to prom.

Easier said than done.

I’d known Y/N my whole life. She was my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knew me better than anyone. But she was also the girl I was in love with, and the thought of risking everything—our friendship, the way she looked at me, the way she laughed at my stupid jokes—was enough to keep my mouth shut.

Still, as I drove home, I couldn’t shake the image of her and Brian at the booth. Her smile, her laugh—it should’ve been me making her laugh like that.

It should’ve been me.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d made up my mind.

I was going to ask her to prom.

Y/N’s POV

I got home super tired from the afternoon that I had with Tracy. After the store supplies, we went to grab some food on our way home. Now, I was sitting at my desk, trying—and failing—to focus on my calculus homework. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Joe’s name.

Joey: Can I come over?

I stared at the message for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. We texted all the time, but something about this felt… different.

Me: Yeah, sure.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my window.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips as I got up to let him in. Joe had been climbing through my window since we were kids, and even though he was way too big for it now, he still insisted on doing it.

“You know,” I said as he swung his legs over the sill, “we have a perfectly good front door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, flashing me a grin.

But the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I felt a pang of concern.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting back on my bed.

He hesitated, standing awkwardly in the middle of my room. “I, uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

He took a deep breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Do you have a date for prom?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No. Why?”

His cheeks turned pink, and he looked down at the floor. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. You know, as friends.”

My heart sank at the word friends, but I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d love to.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe? Or was it disappointment? I couldn’t tell.

“Cool,” he said, his voice softer now. “Thanks.”

He stayed for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing, just like we always did. But when he left, climbing back out the window with a quiet “Goodnight,” I knew something was different, I could feel in the air. But I couldn't tell what.

The next morning, I walked into school with a strange mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in my chest. I was going to prom with Joe. My best friend. The guy I’d been hopelessly in love with for years.

Sure, he’d asked me “as friends,” but that didn’t stop the part of me that clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—prom night would change things.

I was lost in thought as I made my way to the gym, where the prom committee was meeting to finalize decorations. I’d barely set my bag down at the table when a familiar voice interrupted me.

“Morning, Y/N.”

I looked up to see Brian Harris standing there, his easy smile firmly in place.

“Oh, hey, Brian,” I said, offering him a polite smile.

“Got a minute?” he asked, leaning casually against the table.

“Uh, sure,” I said, setting down my clipboard.

Brian glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then turned back to me. “So, I was thinking… you’ve been working really hard on all this prom stuff, and you deserve to have a great night. How about going with me?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “You… want to take me to prom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re smart, funny, hot… the whole package.”

Heat rushed to my face, but not in the way it did when Joe said something sweet. This was different—flattering, sure, but not the kind of butterflies that made your stomach flip.

“Brian, that’s really nice of you, but…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Let me guess,” he said, cutting me off. “You already have a date?”

I nodded, feeling a little guilty for turning him down. “Yeah, I do.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Joe,” I said simply, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe? Or disbelief?

“Joe Burrow?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yes, Joe Burrow,” I said, crossing my arms defensively.

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just… didn’t peg him as the prom type. But hey, good for him. And for you.”

“He's my best friend. Thanks.” I said, though his words left a sour taste in my mouth.

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. Why did everyone act like Joe and I couldn’t be more than friends?

JOE BURROW

I was halfway through practice when I got the text from Sam.

Sam: Dude, Brian just tried to ask Y/N to prom.

My grip tightened on the football, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. I couldn't believe it. I kinda figured it out he was about to do something like that, he spent too much time quiet with me, it was weird. And now, he found a way.

“Burrow! Pay attention!” Coach barked.

I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the play, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

Brian Harris. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up that easily.

By the time practice ended, I was practically sprinting to the parking lot. I spotted Y/N by her car, her head bent over her phone, and I spent the whole time hoping it wasn’t Brian.

“Y/N!” I called, jogging over.

She looked up, her face lighting up in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “Hey, Joe. What’s up?”

“I heard about Brian,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. The truth was, I wasn’t casual at all.

Her smile faded slightly. “Who told you?”

“Sam,” I admitted, leaning against her car.

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he asked me this morning.”

“And what did you say?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She gave me a look. “I told him I already had a date. You.”

The tight knot in my chest loosened a fraction. “Good.”

“Good?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I mean, we already have plans, right?”

“Right,” she said, her expression softening.

For a moment, we just stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “do you need help with any of the prom stuff? Decorations or whatever?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You’re offering to help?”

“Why not?” I said, shrugging. “I could use the extra credit.”

She laughed, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Alright, Burrow. Let’s see if you can survive an afternoon with the prom committee.”

Y/N

I didn’t know what had gotten into Joe, but I wasn’t about to question it. If he wanted to spend more time with me—even if it was just to help with prom decorations—I wasn’t going to say no. We spent the next few hours in the gym, stringing up fairy lights and setting up tables. Joe grumbled about the glitter (“It’s going to be stuck to me for weeks”), but he didn’t complain when I handed him another box of decorations.

At one point, I climbed a ladder to hang a banner, and when I wobbled slightly, Joe was there in an instant, his hands steadying the ladder.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low.

I glanced down at him, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the height. “Thanks.”

He held my gaze for a moment, his hands still gripping the ladder, and I felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us.

“Anytime,” he said softly.

By the time we finished, the gym was starting to look like the prom of my dreams.

The next day, the buzz about prom was everywhere. People were swapping dress ideas, talking about their dates, and sharing excitement about the night that was quickly approaching.

By lunchtime, I was sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria, flipping through a prom checklist on my phone. Joe was sitting across from me, picking at his fries, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Are you seriously still doing prom stuff?” Tracy, my best friend, asked as she slid into the seat next to me.

“Somebody has to,” I said, not looking up.

“Somebody who isn’t you,” she shot back. “You’re already doing, like, ten other things. Delegation, Y/N. Learn it.”

“She’s too much of a control freak,” Joe chimed in, smirking at me.

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m organized, not a control freak.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Speaking of prom,” Tracy said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “have you told Joe what color your dress is yet? Or are you going to make him show up looking like a colorblind disaster?”

I froze, suddenly aware of Joe’s eyes on me. “I—uh—I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Seriously?” Tracy said, looking between us. “You two are going together, and you haven’t talked about coordinating?”

“We’re going as friends,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Tracy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. Maybe both.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to change the subject, “what about you? Who are you going with?”

Tracy grinned. “Brian Harris asked me this morning.”

My stomach dropped. “He did?”

“Yep,” she said, clearly oblivious to the way my hands tightened around my phone. “Apparently, you turned him down, so he went with his second choice. And that’s exactly why I don't go out too much, I Said no, I’m going with Sam.”

“Second choice?” I repeated, the words stinging more than they should have.

“Oh, don’t get all weird about it,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re going with Joe, so who cares what Brian does?”

She had a point. I was going with Joe. But why did it feel like I was still losing somehow? I wasn't surprised about what happened. Couldn't get me, it’s not going to get my best friend either.

JOE BURROW

Sam and Josh , my two closest friends from the football team, were waiting for me by the vending machines after lunch.

“So,” Sam said as soon as I walked up, following me into the hallway “you’re really going to prom with Y/N, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, shoving a dollar into the machine. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because it’s about damn time,” Josh said, leaning against the wall.

I turned to glare at him, while I took my Kit-kat from the machine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam snorted. “Come on, Burrow. Everyone knows you’re crazy about her. You’ve been in love with her since, like, the fifth grade.”

“That’s not true,” I said automatically, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why did you almost rip Brian Harris’s head off at practice yesterday when Sam told you he asked her to prom?”

“That’s different,” I muttered, punching the button for a soda.

“Sure it is,” Sam said, smirking. “You’re totally not jealous or anything.”

“I’m not,” I insisted, but the words felt hollow.

The truth was, I had been jealous. Seeing Brian talk to her, flirt with her, try to take her to prom—it had made me feel like I was seconds away from losing something I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.

And that scared the hell out of me.

“She’s my best friend,” I said finally, throwing the paper on the trash. “Exactly,” Carter said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Which is why you need to stop screwing around and tell her how you feel.”

I didn’t respond, because what was the point? Even if I did tell her how I felt, there was no guarantee she’d feel the same way.

And if she didn’t?

I couldn’t risk losing her.

Y/N

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to go home and collapse. But as I was walking to the parking lot, Tracy caught up with me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I know she was planing something I could feel in tHE air.

“Guess what,” she said, falling into step beside me.

“What?” I asked, too tired to play along.

“There’s a group going to that new dress shop downtown tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.”

I groaned. “Tracy, I already have a dress.”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” she said, grinning. “And I need moral support. Plus, we need to make sure your dress doesn’t clash with Joe’s suit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Joe doesn’t care about that stuff.” And It was true. It didn’t matter if I was going with a red dress or blue.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but you do.”

I hated that she was right.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go.”

The next afternoon, Tracy picked me up for the trip to the new dress shop downtown. The store was buzzing with excited chatter, racks of shimmering gowns lining the walls, and mirrors reflecting endless possibilities.

Tracy dragged me to the section with bright, glittery dresses that screamed “look at me.” I could tell she was in her element, flipping through racks like a woman on a mission.

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a strapless red gown with a thigh-high slit.

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It was too much.

“For you,” she said with a grin. “You’d kill in this.”

I shook my head. “It’s too much.”

“Y/N, you’re going to prom with Joe Burrow. You have to make an impression.”

“I’m already going with him,” I said. “Why do I need to impress him?”

Tracy shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right? You’re hopelessly in love with the guy, and you don’t think this is your chance to finally make him see it?”

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze mid-reach for a more modest gown. I didn’t even know what to say. “I—what? I’m not—”

“Save it,” she said, cutting me off. “You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. So pick something that’ll make his jaw drop.”

I sighed, knowing there was no point arguing. Tracy wasn’t going to let this go.

After what felt like hours of trying on dresses, I finally stepped out of the dressing room in a floor-length navy gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace detailing.

Tracy’s jaw dropped. “That’s the one.”

I turned to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and the navy color made my skin glow. It was that one, I know that.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Joe’s going to lose his mind,” Tracy said with a satisfied grin.

I didn’t know about that, but for the first time, I felt like I might actually look like someone worth noticing.

JOE BURROW.

Later that evening, I was sitting in my room, staring at my phone. Sam and Josh's words from earlier in the week were still playing in my head.

“Tell her how you feel.”

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It wasn’t that simple.

Or maybe it was, and I was just a coward.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a text from Y/N.

Y/N:Just finished dress shopping with Tracy. I think I found the one.

Me: Cool. Send me a pic.

There was a long pause before she responded.

Y/N: Nope. You’ll have to wait until prom.

I frowned at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

Me: Not even a sneak peek?

Y/N: Nope.

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. She always knew how to keep me on my toes.

The next morning, Sam and Josh cornered me in the locker room after practice.

“You figure out your prom look yet?” Josh asked, tossing a towel onto the bench.

“I’m wearing a suit,” I said flatly.

Sam snorted. “Wow, groundbreaking.”

“Do you even know what color she’s wearing?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” Sam said. “You didn’t even ask her, did you?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “No, but I’m sure whatever I pick will be fine.”

Carter shook his head. “You’re hopeless, man.”

I’m in Love. It 's different.

Y/N

The week of prom flew by in a whirlwind of final preparations. The committee was meeting every day after school, and by Friday afternoon, the gym was completely transformed.

I stood in the middle of the room, surveying the decorations with a mix of pride and exhaustion. The fairy lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow over the tables, and the dance floor was ready to go.

“It looks amazing,” Joe said, walking up behind me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think we pulled it off.”

“You think?” he teased. “You’ve been running this show since day one.”

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking.

For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the committee members packing up around us fading into the background.

“You’re going to look great tomorrow,” Joe said suddenly, his voice soft.

I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “I know so.”

I gave him a smile, and he opened his arms, asking for a hug. I got on my tiptoes, hugging Joe tight while his arms went around my waist.

[...]

The air was electric that morning. The last day of high school had arrived, and it felt like every hallway, every classroom, every moment was buzzing with a mix of nostalgia and excitement. People were signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and talking about their plans for the summer and beyond.

Even I couldn’t help but smile as I walked to my locker. It was bittersweet, knowing this chapter of our lives was coming to an end.

“Y/N!” Tracy called out, jogging to catch up with me. She had her camera slung around her neck, determined to document every second of the day.

“Ready for the waterworks?” I teased.

“Please, you’re the emotional one,” she shot back, grinning. “Anyway, don’t forget we’re doing a group photo at lunch. You and Joe better be there.”

“Of course,” I said. “Speaking of Joe, have you seen him?”

“Probably at his locker, brooding like usual,” Tracy said with a laugh. “Anyway, any big plans for tonight?” she asked, nudging me playfully.

“Just the prom committee meeting,” I said with a laugh. “And then maybe collapsing from exhaustion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need to have more fun, Y/N. Let loose. Do something crazy for once.”

I shook my head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

And I heard a voice.

“Y/N!” Joe was striding toward me, his long legs making quick work of the crowded hallway.

“Your shadow approaches,” Tracy whispered with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

“Hey,” I said as he reached me.

“Are you ready for the pep rally?” he asked, leaning casually against the lockers.

“Always,” I said, trying not to smile too hard at the way his hair was slightly tousled from football practice. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, gesturing around us.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a shrug.

“You don’t sound excited.”

“It’s just a day,” he said, closing his locker.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the day, Joe. Our last day of high school. Try to act like it’s a big deal.”

We walked to the gym together, the noise and chaos of the hallways swirling around us. Everything felt heightened—like we were living in slow motion, with every moment stretched out and glowing.

JOE BURROW.

The pep rally was loud, chaotic, and exactly what it needed to be. Seniors were on fire, shouting chants and tossing confetti in the air like it was the Super Bowl.

I couldn’t stop glancing at Y/N, though. She was sitting with Tracy and a few other committee members, laughing as they worked on last-minute plans for tomorrow’s prom.

She looked happy—really happy—and it hit me like a punch to the gut.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed her, either.

Brian Harris, the basketball player who’d been hovering around her all week, kept glancing in her direction.

“Man, you have to do something.” Sam said to me, loud enough for me to hear him on top of the school band chant’s. I looked over at him, still seeing Brian smiling to Y/N, and I don’t know, I’m almost sure that she’s not comfortable.

JOE: you good?

I said in my message. Saw her opening her phone, but she didn’t text me back.

“He invited her that day, as soon as you steped back to class.” Josh said as well, looking at Brian ans Y/N.

“She is independent, can be with anyone she wants.”

“And you want that, Burrow?”

Sam asked me, and before I could respond to him, he was running back to our friends. By the time the rally ended, my mood had gone from celebratory to sour.

By the time lunch rolled around, my patience was wearing thin. The day was supposed to be perfect—our last day as seniors, with Y/N by my side—but Brian Harris was determined to ruin it.

I saw him hanging around her at the pep rally, throwing those cocky smiles her way like he thought she’d actually fall for it.

And the worst part? She’d smiled back.

It wasn’t the same smile she gave me, though. Hers was polite, almost distracted, but it still made my chest tighten.

I knew Brian wasn’t going to back off, and the thought of him getting even one step closer to her made my blood boil.

Y/N

The last day of high school felt magical in a way that I couldn’t quite put into words. The hallways were alive with laughter, and the air was thick with excitement and nostalgia. Everything about the day seemed to shimmer—the sunlight streaming through the windows, the fresh breeze that wafted through open doors, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

It was hard to believe this chapter of our lives was ending. Every smile, every hug, every glance at the crowded hallways felt like a snapshot I wanted to hold onto forever.

But beneath the sparkle of it all, I couldn’t shake the tension I’d felt since the pep rally. Joe had been quieter than usual. He was there, walking me to class and teasing me like always, but something was… off.

“See you at lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now.

But there was something in his eyes that made me pause.

“Joe—”

“Go,” he said, forcing a small smile. “You’ll be late.”

I didn’t push him, though. Joe wasn’t the kind of person you were forced to talk to. He’d tell me what was on his mind when he was ready.

Or so I thought.

I was walking with Tracy to the cafeteria when I heard someone call my name.

“Y/N!”

I turned to see Brian Harris jogging toward me, that signature smug grin plastered across his face.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a little too close.

“Uh, hey,” I replied, glancing at Tracy, who raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.

“I was wondering if you’d thought about the prom thing.” he said, leaning against the lockers like he owned the place.

I blinked. “Oh, um… I’m going with Joe. I told you that already.”

Brian’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “Right, the football star. But, you know, if you want a real man to take you, I’m available. Joe’s it’s just a football player like every single other one, He’s going to fuck you and forget your name right after.”

I froze, my stomach twisting in discomfort. “Excuse me?”

“You’re too pretty to waste your time on a guy like that,” Brian said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I’d show you a better time, Y/N. You deserve someone who can actually keep up with you, ‘ya know? Not that bullshit.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“What the hell did you just say?”

JOE BURROW.

The second I saw Brian cornering her, my body moved before I even realized what I was doing.

I knew that look on his face. It was the same one he used to intimidate guys on the court, and it made my blood run hot. When I heard what he’d said to her—when I saw the way her face twisted in discomfort—I saw red.

“You got something to say about me, Harris?” I said, stepping between him and Y/N.

Brian smirked, crossing his arms. “Relax, Burrow. I’m just saying the truth. She deserves better than some meathead quarterback.”

“Back off,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

“Or what?” Brian challenged, his grin widening.

I glanced at Y/N out of the corner of my eye. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to disappear.

“You’re pathetic,” I snapped at Brian. “You don’t even know her.”

“And you do?” he shot back, laughing. “What are you, her guard dog? Or just her backup plan when no one else asks her out? You afraid cause I can fuck her better dan you do?”

That was it.

Before I even thought about it, my fist collided with his jaw.

I barely felt Brian’s punch. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and all I could think about was wiping that smug grin off his face.

The hallway erupted into chaos as people gathered around, shouting and gasping.

Y/N

“Joe!” I shouted, shoving my way through the crowd.

Brian staggered back, clutching his face, and then lunged at Joe.

Teachers swarmed the hallway, pulling them apart before Brian could land a punch.

“You’re insane!” Brian yelled, glaring at Joe as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Better insane than a creep,” Joe shot back, his chest heaving.

The teachers dragged them off in opposite directions, and I stood frozen, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened.

I burst into the principal’s office, my heart racing.

When I pushed open the door to the office, Joe was sitting in one of the chairs, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his eye. He looked up when I walked in, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. His lip was cut, and his knuckles were red, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“What were you thinking?” I demanded, walking over to him.

He shrugged. “Brian deserved it.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You know you’re going to have a black eye at prom, right?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a way that made my heart stutter. “You think it’ll match my suit?”

I rolled my eyes, but my expression softened as I crouched beside him.

“Let me see,” I said, gently pulling the bag of peas away.

His eye was already starting to swell, the skin around it an angry shade of red.

I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Joe.”

“Yes, I did,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, impulsively, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the uninjured part of his cheek.

“For good luck,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Joe froze, his gaze locked on mine. My heart raced like a roller coaster.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost affectionate.

“You’re an idiot,” I shot back, standing up.

He grabbed my wrist before I could step away, his fingers warm against my skin.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low.

“For what?”

“For being you,” he said simply.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He buried his face against my side, his grip firm but not overwhelming. I felt my skiing getting hotter and hotter, and I just could smile. My hands went to his hair, my fingers went through his dirty blonde hair. We stayed like that until the principal walked in, but by then, I wasn’t sure I cared about anything else.

It was just me and him against the world, and nothing else.

[...]

And that was it, it was prom night.

The house smelled like hairspray and perfume, and my room was a disaster zone. Dresses were scattered across the bed, shoes piled in a corner, and makeup brushes lay abandoned on the vanity. Tracy, as usual, was in full control, directing the chaos like she was the queen of prom night.

“Hold still, Y/N!” she barked, holding up a curling iron dangerously close to my face.

“I am holding still!” I protested, wincing as she tugged on another section of my hair.

Tracy sighed dramatically, stepping back to examine her work. “Okay, that’s better. You’re going to look so good tonight. Joe’s going to lose his mind.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending the mention of his name didn’t send my stomach into a flutter. “It’s just prom, Tracy. Not a wedding.”

She smirked. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. One day you’re going to marry him.”

Those words echoed in my mind, like a prophecy. Marriage, Joe, his last name. I felt like a little girl dreaming big.

Deep down, I knew she was half right. Prom wasn’t just another night. It was the last big event of high school, the last chance for everything unsaid to finally come to the surface. And with Joe… there was a lot to say.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t stop pacing.

The suit felt too stiff, the tie too tight, and my reflection in the mirror wasn’t doing much to calm my nerves. The bruise under my eye had turned a deep shade of purple overnight, standing out against my pale skin like a neon sign.

“You look ridiculous,” Sam said, lounging on my bed with his arms behind his head. “Like someone punched you in the face or something.”

I glared at him. “Shut up.”

“Relax, man,” he said, grinning. “Y/N doesn’t care what you look like. She’s already obsessed with you.”

“Y/N’s not obsessed with me,” I muttered, adjusting my tie for the tenth time.

“Right,” Sam said, dragging out the word. “And you’re not obsessed with her either.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why’d you deck Brian Harris yesterday?”

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, sitting up. “Look, just tell her how you feel tonight. It’s prom. You’re supposed to be a little dramatic.”

I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. “You make it sound so easy.”

My mom’s voice got into my ears, from downstairs, screaming at us saying that Josh got there with his mom’s eight places SUV.

“Because it is,” Sam said, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. “Now come on. Let’s go pick her up.”

Y/N

The knock on the door sent a ripple of nerves through me.

“Y/N, they’re here!” my mom called from downstairs.

Tracy gave me a final once-over, her eyes narrowing in approval. “You look perfect. Now go knock him dead.”

I smoothed down the front of my dress, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.

When I saw Joe standing in the entryway, my breath caught. He looked… incredible. The black suit fit him perfectly, and even with the bruise under his eye, he somehow managed to look like he’d stepped out of a movie.

He looked up as I descended the stairs, his mouth parting slightly as his eyes locked on me.

“Wow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blushed, smiling nervously. “Hi.”

“You look…” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my heart pounding. “You look pretty good yourself.”

He grinned, and for a moment, everything else faded away. My heart was beating so fast… It was crazy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his arm.

“Yeah,” I said, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s do this.”

JOE BURROW.

The ride to prom was a blur of nerves and stolen glances. Y/N was sitting beside me, her dress shimmering under the streetlights, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to tell her the truth.

That I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember.

That seeing her with anyone else felt like a punch to the gut.

That she was the only reason high school had meant anything to me at all.

But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck in my throat.

When we arrived at the venue, the place was already packed. Lights twinkle from every corner of the ballroom, and music echoed through the open doors.

“Come on,” Y/N said, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go find Tracy before she starts texting me a thousand times.”

I followed her inside, my chest tightening as I watched her weave through the crowd with that familiar confidence. She belonged here, in the center of it all, surrounded by laughter and light. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was just lucky to be standing next to her.

We walked through a crowd of teenagers, everyone stopping Y/N to say that the place was awesome. I was holding her hand, walking behind her and letting her set the pace.

“I’m not finding Brian.” She said, the happiness palpable in her voice.

I gave her a smile. “Cause tonight is your night.”

Y/N

Prom was everything I’d hoped it would be. The decorations, the music, the energy—it all felt like a dream, but even as I danced with my friends and laughed at Tracy’s terrible attempts at doing the cha-cha slide, my attention kept drifting back to Joe.

He was standing by the punch table, talking to Sam and a couple of his football buddies, but every so often, his eyes would find mine across the room.

And every time they did, my heart skipped a beat.

“You should just go for it,” Tracy said, nudging me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pretending not to know exactly what she meant.

“Joe,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically glowing every time you look at him.”

I glanced at him again, my stomach doing flips.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I asked quietly.

Tracy gave me a knowing smile. “Trust me, Y/N. He does.”

“How–”

“Babe, he walks you to your car everyday, even when he has practice. He’s your pair in chemistry cause he found out you're not that good. He just use his cologne cause you like it. That guy has been in love with you for ages. Go.

But as I walked to meet me, he came down my direction.

JOE BURROW.

By the time the slow songs started playing, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you want to dance?” I asked, walking up to her before I could lose my nerve.

She looked up at me, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

I led her to the dance floor, my heart pounding as I rested my hands on her waist. She placed hers on my shoulders, and for a moment, we just stood there, swaying to the music.

“You having fun?” I asked, my voice quiet.

She nodded, smiling up at me. “Yeah. Are you?”

I hesitated, my eyes searching hers. “I think this might be the best night of my life.”

Her smile faltered slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Her grip on my shoulders tightened, and I could see the fear and hope mingling in her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked softly, looking over my eyes, and my mouth. I almost fainted.

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had.

“I—”

The words sat heavy on my tongue, burning to be said, but no matter how much I wanted to just tell her, my chest felt too tight. Y/N looked at me expectantly, her hands light on my shoulders as we swayed to the music. Her eyes searched mine, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, like she was daring me to break the silence between us.

But I didn’t.

“Never mind,” I said, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”

Her expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of disappointment flashing across her face before she recovered. She gave me a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re acting weird tonight,” she said, her voice teasing but gentle.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me, but she let it go. “Okay. If you say so.”

The song ended, and the crowd around us erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N stepped back, her hands falling from my shoulders, and I immediately missed the warmth of her touch.

“Let’s get some punch,” she said, her tone light as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had been building between us all night.

I nodded, following her off the dance floor, kicking myself for chickening out again.

Y/N

Joe was acting so strange, and I couldn’t figure out why. He was quieter than usual, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach twist in knots.

For a moment on the dance floor, I thought he was going to say something—something important. But then he didn’t, and the moment passed, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.

I tried to shake it off as we made our way to the refreshment table, but it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest.

Before I could dwell on it too much, the DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing that it was time to crown the prom king and queen.

“Oh my god, here we go!” Tracy squealed, bouncing on her heels next to me. “This is my favorite part!”

The crowd gathered around the stage as the principal took the microphone, holding two glittering crowns in his hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of your prom king and queen!”

The room buzzed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile at the energy in the air.

The principal unfolded a piece of paper and cleared his throat dramatically. “Your 2015 prom king is…” He paused for effect, dragging out the suspense.

“Joe Burrow!”

My heart stopped.

The room erupted into cheers and applause as Joe’s friends pushed him toward the stage. He looked completely shocked, his face turning red as he stumbled forward.

“Go, Joe!” Sam yelled, clapping him on the back.

Joe climbed onto the stage, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as the principal placed the crown on his head. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes wide and uncertain, and when his gaze landed on me, I couldn’t help but laugh.

He looked like he wanted to bolt.

“And now,” the principal continued, holding up the second crown, “your 2015 prom queen is…”

I barely had time to register the words before they hit me.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

My jaw dropped.

Tracy shrieked, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “Oh my god, Y/N! You won!”

The crowd cheered again, and I felt my cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at me.

“Go,” Tracy urged, pushing me toward the stage. “Go get your crown!”

I stumbled forward, my heart racing as I climbed onto the stage. Joe was standing there, still looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening, and when I reached him, he gave me a lopsided smile.

“Guess it’s our night,” he said softly.

I laughed nervously, and before I could respond, the principal placed the crown on my head. The crowd roared, and for a moment, I couldn’t think about anything except how surreal this all felt.

“I voted for you, actually.” He said to me. “Everyone else felt wrong.”

“And now, for the king and queen’s first dance!” the DJ announced, cueing up a slow song.

My stomach flipped.

Joe held out his hand, his eyes meeting mine. “Shall we?”

I hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Let’s do it.”

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t believe it.

Of all the people to win prom king and queen, it had to be us.

The crowd parted as we stepped onto the dance floor, the music soft and slow. I held her close, my hands resting on her waist, and for the first time all night, everything else faded away.

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “This is… unexpected,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

I chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

We swayed to the music, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.

“You’re a good dancer,” she said, surprising me.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied, grinning. “My mom uses me as a pair for her dance classes every wednesday.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a warm rush through me.

I wanted to say something—anything—that would let her know how I felt. But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck. So instead, I just held her a little closer, hoping she could feel everything I couldn’t say.

Y/N

Dancing with Joe felt like a dream.

The music, the lights, the way his hands fit so perfectly on my waist—it was all too perfect, too much.

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

I wanted to say something to him, to break the tension that had been building between us all night. But I didn’t know how to start, or what to say.

So I just smiled, letting myself get lost in the moment.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause, and Joe stepped back, his hands lingering on my waist for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Tracy grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the chaos of the crowd.

I glanced back at Joe, my heart aching with everything I didn’t say.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

It was hard to believe that prom had ended. We had just been crowned king and queen, dancing beneath the dim lights, and now here I was, stumbling out of the ballroom with Joe, our friends trailing behind us like a pack of wild animals, laughing and shouting.

“I can’t believe you’re the prom queen,” Tracy yelled, her voice echoing in the parking lot. “You deserve it, though. No one shines like you.”

I laughed, the night air cool on my flushed cheeks. “I don’t know about that,” I said, glancing over at Joe who was walking beside me, his hand brushing against mine. My stomach fluttered at the contact, but I didn’t say anything.

The parking lot was chaotic as everyone piled into cars. Tracy, Sam, and the others crammed into one, while Joe and I ended up in another with a few other friends, laughing and joking like it was just another night. But it didn’t feel like just another night. This felt different. This felt like the last time we’d all be together in this way.

“You guys are gonna miss each other so much,” Tracy said, her words a bit slurred. “This is the last time we’re all gonna be together.”

I looked around at everyone—Sam and his crew, Tracy with her beaming smile, and Joe, sitting across from me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. I didn’t want this night to end. It felt like the end of something—something big.

JOE BURROW.

The night ended up going by in a blur. The prom was exactly what I expected and nothing like I imagined. My crown, which had been placed atop my head in a daze, felt heavier with every passing second. But as I glanced over at Y/N, standing beside me, I realized that tonight wasn't about the crown or the glittering dance floor—it was about the fact that we had both made it here together.

As soon as the prom ended, everyone piled into cars, the laughter and chaos of the night spilling out into the streets. Tracy and Sam were in the front seats, and the rest of us packed into two cars heading for our usual spot: the 24/7 fast food joint down the street.

“Best night ever!” Tracy yelled from the front seat, her voice full of excitement and maybe a little too much sugar.

Y/N, sitting next to me, leaned her head back against the seat and sighed. “Honestly, this is the only place I wanted to end up tonight.”

I glanced at her, a grin tugging at my lips. “It’s perfect, huh?”

The group of us shuffled into the fast food place, everyone high on adrenaline, and suddenly, the night felt endless. I grabbed a large soda and some fries, and we all sat around, teasing each other, making fun of the awkward moments at prom. It didn’t take long before someone—probably Sam—suggested spiking the punch.

Y/N was sipping her soda innocently, but I could tell the punch had begun to work its magic. Her eyes were a little glassy, and her giggles were more frequent than usual. I could feel it too. The alcohol had taken over, making everything feel lighter, blurrier.

After a few more rounds of punch and laughing over ridiculous prom photos, our group decided to walk. No one really wanted the night to end just yet. Y/N and I stumbled a bit, weaving through the streets as we made our way toward my house. It was a warm night, and we walked slowly, the stars twinkling above us, as if everything in the universe had aligned for this very moment.

By the time we made it to the end of the place, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. But I didn’t want to go home yet. Not like this.

“Joe, we’re walking,” Sam said, slurring his words as he jumped out of the car and started heading toward the neighborhood. “Come on! We’re taking the long way back!”

I looked at Y/N, and she just shrugged, smiling. “I’m in,” she said, laughing.

And just like that, we all piled out of the cars and started walking through the dark streets, the cool night air refreshing against our skin as we stumbled down familiar roads.

We walked past houses, the sidewalks empty, the only sounds coming from our group and the occasional rustling of trees. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We just walked and talked, our laughter echoing through the empty streets. It was so easy, so natural, like we had all the time in the world.

At some point, we ended up on my street. My house loomed ahead, warm lights spilling out from the windows. We’d spent so many nights here before, just talking and watching the stars, and tonight felt like no different.

I led Y/N to my backyard, where a small patch of grass sat beneath a canopy of trees, almost tripping on our feet. The stars were clear in the sky, shining brighter than I had ever seen them before. It was like everything was glowing, alive, and the world was just right.

We laid down on the grass, our arms touching, but not quite close enough for me to feel her warmth completely. The alcohol from the punch made everything fuzzy, the stars spinning above us. My thoughts were scattered, my words slow, but somehow it all felt peaceful.

She was lying beside me, her hand resting on her stomach, her eyes on the sky. I could feel her breath in the air, feel her presence beside me. And in that moment, I realized how much I didn’t want this night to end.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quiet as I stared at the stars.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little deeper than usual, probably from the alcohol. “It’s crazy how small we are, you know? It’s like everything else fades away.”

My body felt heavy with the weight of everything I had left unsaid. The way I felt about her. The way she made me feel every time she was near.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight, Joe,” She whispered.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Y/N.” There was a slight hesitation in my voice. A flicker of something I couldn’t place.

The alcohol had taken over, and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The way her voice sounded, the way the world felt too big and too small at the same time—it was all a blur, but one thing was crystal clear: I didn’t want this night to end. I didn’t want her to leave.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of her face in the dim light of the stars. She looked like she was deep in thought, her lips slightly parted. There was something about the way she looked at me, something that made my heart race and my stomach twist.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even hesitate. I just leaned toward her, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, everything else melted away. The world stopped spinning, and all that mattered was her. Her taste, the way her lips felt against mine, the way she kissed me back as if she’d been waiting for this moment too.

It was like time didn’t exist. Like it was just the two of us, under the stars, finally doing what we had both wanted to do for so long.

When we pulled away, breathless and dizzy from the kiss, neither of us said anything. We just laid there, looking up at the sky, the stars blurring into streaks of light as our minds swirled.

The night ended with a haze, the kiss lingering in my mind but slowly fading as the alcohol wore off. The stars were still shining, but everything felt a little more distant now.

I couldn’t remember exactly how we got back to the house, how we ended up on my couch, or how we fell asleep, side by side. But when I woke up the next morning, my mind was foggy, my lips still tingling, and the memory of the stars felt far away.

I could remember nothing about last night.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #friends to lovers

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frflyavenue · 10 days ago

Text

Under Your Touch - Chapter 5

Pairing: poly!Ateez x makeup artist!Reader (fem!Reader)

Warnings: (romantic?) tension, casual swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, PTSD, minor PTSD episode, platonic affection, work (eww), food/eating

Author’s Note: Hope you guys enjoy! Our y/n is getting (literally) closer to her coworkers~

Join me on ao3 @frflyavenue

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

WC: 3.8k

Chapter 5: Catnaps

It’s been three weeks since you started working among the Ateez staff.

Wooyoung is equally, if not moreso, difficult to wake up every morning. It seems that now, when he wakes up and realizes it’s you, he decides to be stubborn for the sake of pushing your buttons. It’s all in good fun, of course, but Hongjoong has strongly advised you to stop being so lenient on the younger man, else he’ll “just keep being a pain in the ass”. You kept it in mind.

Jongho has gotten into the habit of bringing you snacks nearly every morning, explaining that he was concerned about you not eating breakfast before starting work. At first you felt bad and decided to bring your own food, not wanting him to waste his energy worrying over you. But he still continued bringing you snacks, claiming that he has too many at home anyways. Wooyoung told you that it was the maknae’s version of a sort of peace offering, so you decided not to question it.

You still aren’t a part of the travel team, but you’ve been spending more time than not at the studio recently. It’s a simple routine. In the mornings, you carry out your normal duties of getting Wooyoung and Jongho ready for the day, and you clean up after everybody when they leave. You usually grab lunch at home and return to the studio with your drawing tablet. You spend time after that lounging around on the comfortable couch and sketching various designs while you wait for Hyerin to return.

You’ve taken to designing makeup looks on more members than just Wooyoung and Jongho, for fun. It’s a good idea to study the other members' faces, you decide–you never know when an opportunity will present itself. Plus, it’s never unpleasant to scroll through reference photos.

The makeup staff usually return a few hours into the afternoon, and it’s become a habit to curl up on the couch while you wait for the members to arrive. Two weeks ago, when you mentioned to Hyerin your affinity for cat napping, she insisted on inviting you to join her for her afternoon naps. Since then, each morning you find yourself looking forward to your half-hour cuddle sessions with your very warm unnie and the occasional Ara-nim who joins when she gets the chance.

The members have also started spending more time at the studio. Hyerin explained that the studio is in a convenient place in the city to crash for a few hours in between schedules, so you spend plenty of time carefully maneuvering around sleeping members every afternoon. Usually, this is the time the makeup and stylist teams hold meetings in the backroom of the studio, discussing upcoming comeback plans, updating shifts and schedules, and collaborating on how to doll up the members. You tend to take a backseat during these meetings since you’re still earning your place on the team, but it feels nice to be included regardless.

That’s where you find yourself now, sat between Hyerin-unnie and Yoon Sohee-nim, who’s furiously scribbling on her notebook to maneuver schedules and manage shifts for the whole team. What a difficult job, you surmise with a sympathetic wince, respectfully scooting away from her to give her space.

The upcoming comeback is approaching rapidly, and stress is high. There are three weeks left for preparation–finalizing outfits, hair and makeup, filming music videos, promotion interviews, dress rehearsals, and god knows what else–before Ateez gets a one-week break while staff tailors outfits and MVs get edited. After that… 6 weeks of tour. You wonder how everyone manages.

“One thing at a time,” you hear Hyerin-unnie butt in, diffusing a stressed ramble from a veteran stylist. “For now, we need to focus on the issue at hand. Concept design.”

You purse your lips bitterly. The stylist and makeup teams spent weeks designing stage and MV outfits for the upcoming comeback, perfecting them and getting everything approved. It looked fantastic… until someone higher up on the KQ ladder pointed out how similar it was to another group's comeback a few years ago. It only took a day of investigation before a stylist was fired for plagiarism, and the whole team was left to start from scratch.

It seems you aren’t the only one thinking about last week's drama. “It sucks,” Hyerin sighs. “But it’s doable if we all pitch in.”

Ara-nim agrees with a serious nod. “Agreed. I was thinking over this yesterday, and I think the best course of action here is good old-fashioned brainstorming. I’ve already discussed this with my team, and we all plan to individually come up with as many concept sketches as possible before our meeting on Wednesday. Hyerin-nim, would it be reasonable to ask your team to do the same?”

Hyerin raises an eyebrow. “You want the makeup team to sketch outfit design?”

“Yeah, if you would. You all have creative and artistic ability to some extent, and any help is appreciated. We’ve got the art department in on it too.”

Hyerin ponders for a moment before giving a thoughtful nod. “I can agree to that. We can’t really start hair and makeup until outfits are done, anyways.”

Ara smiles gratefully, turning to address the whole table. “It’s decided then. Everybody here is capable of coming up with ideas for this. There aren’t any rules, just read over the concept descriptions and sketch whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t need to be high quality drawing, we’ll worry about that later. Just pump out as many as possible. Sohee-nim, can you extend Wednesday’s meeting by a few hours so we have time to look everything over?”

Sohee gives a curt nod in response, scribbling on her notepad.

“Perfect. I’ll talk with Eden and management to see if we’re allowed to listen to the tracks. If so, I'll forward them to you as soon as possible. Understood?”

There’s a tired chorus of affirmation and the meeting is dismissed.

Two days. You have two days to produce as many concept sketches as possible before your meeting on Wednesday. You all just have to pray that at least a few of them are good enough to use by then.

With a sigh, you run your hand through your hair, flopping down onto the couch. The meeting went a little over today–the members should all be back from whatever schedule they’re having in twenty minutes or so. Hyerin takes a seat next to you, releasing a similar tense breath.

“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Hyerin expresses now that the two of you are alone. You nod in agreement. “Everything was looking so good, too. Goddammit.”

“Yeah, this is less than ideal,” you murmur. “Do you think we’ll really have anything by Wednesday?”

Hyerin just purses her lips, and you know that she’s wondering the same.

You stretch your neck from side to side, feeling tension creep up your spine.

“Nap time?” you propose innocently, deciding to leave worrying for future Y/N. Hyerin offers a small smile, leaning against the side of the couch and reaching an inviting arm toward you. You don’t hesitate to curl up into her side, happily resting your head on the plushness of her breast. It only takes a minute for you to drift off in the safe arms of your favorite unnie.

—---------

You awake to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, the low buzz of gentle conversation surrounding you. You’ve been moved to lay fully down on your side with your head resting on Hyerin’s warm thighs, and while it’s not quite as comfortable as before, the rhythmic scritching at your scalp very well makes up for it. The corners of your mouth twitch up contentedly, eyes slowly blinking awake.

“Oh, there she is~” you hear Ara-nim coo somewhere in the room, and you smile bashfully. She chuckles fondly. “Everybody got back a few minutes ago. Turns out the schedule for later today got cancelled, so we’re all just hanging out here at the studio.”

Your face must portray your excitement, because she lets out a fond laugh.

“I know, right? It’s a blessing.” She leans on one hip. “It gives us more time to sketch~”

Your face now portrays disdain. She laughs again.

“Okay,” you comply, though your voice is clipped with a small groan. “...Can I sleep for ten more minutes, then?”

Ara raises an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds awfully familiar to another certain coworker I know.” There's an offended scoff from where Wooyoung is sprawled out playing mobile games with Yunho, and you roll your eyes with a small grin.

“Please?” you try again, pouting. You’ve gotten quite close with Ara-nim recently, but this is the first time you’ve flashed her your puppy eyes. The poor woman can’t resist it.

“Oh, you precious little thing! Of course you can nap a little while longer, baby. You’ve worked so hard~”

You grin in victory as the stylist turns to join back with her group, simply closing your eyes and nuzzling into the warmth of Hyerin’s lap. Noticing the severe lack of fingers playing with your hair, you reach up to grab Hyerin’s hand and tug it back to its place on your scalp.

But the hand you grab isn’t the soft, delicate hand of your unnie.

It’s too warm, and too strong. It’s larger, rougher, with calloused palms from work–definitely not Hyerin’s hand. Definitely, definitely not a woman’s hand, at the very least.

You freeze.

Oh god.

He’s here.

He’s here and you’re lying in his lap, and you just pulled his hand and bossed him around and-

He clears his throat, and you’re quick to sit up, eyes blown wide with fear as you meet his eyes.

Except it isn’t him. He’s far younger, far handsomer, and he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s… San.

San offers a small flustered smile, hand still hovering. “Ah, h-hey Y/N-ah.”

You blink, at a loss for words. When you do speak, all you manage to get out is a small “Where’s Unnie?”

He rubs the back of his neck, eyebrows twitching at your expression. “Hyerin-ssi had to go to a surprise meeting when we got here, and she asked me to take over. I’m sorry to surprise you.”

Your heart is racing embarrassingly fast, and you feel suddenly dizzy as the moths in your stomach stir. “I, uh, thank you, San-ah,” you manage, standing up. “I’m gonna go make myself some coffee.”

You flash him a small, forced smile before slipping into the quiet backroom, closing the door behind you and immediately finding a spot to slide to the floor, too dizzy to stand.

You lean back against the cool wood of the cabinets behind you, letting your head tilt back and lean against it as you tuck your knees closer to your chest. Taking notice of your stuttering breath, you close your eyes. In 4 seconds. Hold 4 seconds. Out 4 seconds. It comes with ease, a practiced pattern that never fails to do the trick. Fingers twitching with the need to fidget, you reach to play with the hem of your sweater, relaxing with the feeling of the soft woven fabric under your fingertips.

Goddammit. You groan, embarrassed. Not this again. What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N? Now San-ah thinks you’re a weirdo.

The door to the backroom slowly cracks open, and a muscular frame slips in with surprising grace before closing the door again, careful to make sure it doesn’t make noise.

Speaking of.

He approaches and quietly sits along the same wall as you, keeping a respectful distance. “..Y/N-ah?”

You sit up straight and turn to face him, thinking clearer now that your heart isn’t palpitating. “Hey, San-ah.”

He looks worried, the poor guy. It makes sense, you suppose, considering your sudden escape just moments ago. You offer a more genuine smile, but he frowns deeper.

“Y/N-ah, I’m sorry for… that. Having you nap on me and playing with your hair, and everything. Hyerin-noona said that you don’t mind cuddling up with anyone, but I still shouldn’t have just assumed that it would be okay, and I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable around me. I’m really, really sorry.”

Your face softens. His eyes are so kind, slightly glossy from guilt and soft with worry as he looks over at you. So different from the eyes of the man you thought he was. How could you have ever thought it was him? You swallow, your smile turning watery.

“Oh, Sannie-ah, it wasn’t your fault,” you explain softly, not able to bear his look of guilt for a moment longer. You offer him a gentle hand, and he tentatively checks your eyes before taking it, just holding it in his palm.

“Are you sure?” He confirms softly, and you realize with a pang in your chest that he’s holding back tears.

You immediately nod, squeezing his slightly trembling hand. “I promise. I… I’m just kind of weird with touch, sometimes,” you explain, calm. “It has nothing to do with you, really. Hyerin-unnie was right, I don’t mind cuddling at all. I only panicked a little bit because I wasn’t expecting it to be you when I woke up.”

San nods, still not seeming convinced. His pretty eyes are still all watery, and the lingering moths fluttering in your stomach are chased out by a protective warmth. You scoot closer to him until your thighs are touching, wanting to share it.

“Regardless of if you’re okay with it, I should’ve asked first,” he explains, genuine. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh, reaching up and suddenly pinching his cheek. The action takes him by surprise, a small noise escaping his throat as he stares at you with wide eyes. “I swear, San-ah, if you apologize one more time there won't be any more cuddling.”

San shuts up at that, clearly at a loss for words. You continue.

“Maybe it would have been a good idea to ask me first, but Hyerin-unnie told you that I was okay with it and you had every reason to trust her. I did tell her that. It was a small mistake, and I’m not upset. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman since I met you, and there was no way you could’ve known I would get startled.”

San nods, clearly listening, but his eyes flicker downward to watch over your conjoined hands. You brush your thumb over the back of his hand reassuringly, eyes firm and honest. “I promise you it’s okay. I’d be happy to cuddle with you–or any of the members–any time. Just be sure to ask me first next time.”

San smiles softly now, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a little even as they shimmer..

“Okay,” he says finally, shoulders relaxing fully now. “Should I tell the other members, too?”

You nearly coo at his consideration, nodding. “I would appreciate that very much. Make sure to tell them that I’m open for cuddling anytime.”

San raises an eyebrow, smiling playfully. “Are you sure you want to do that? I don’t think you’ll ever get them off of you.”

You laugh heartily at that, eyes twinkling. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

After a moment, San’s playful smile turns bashful, pink dusting his cheeks as he squeezes your hand in his much warmer one. You both fall quiet for a moment, letting the silence linger like wisps of fog around you. It’s broken only when San builds up his courage with a shy clear of his throat.

“In that case, can we go back to the couch for another nap?”

You giggle, finding him way too precious for his own good. It’s a good thing he’s not a dongsaeng–if he was, you think you would suffocate him with how much affection you would give him. Instead, you opt for squeezing his hand. “I would love to.”

He beams, shuffling to his feet and tugging your hand to get you to do the same, before leading you out of the backroom. Back in the lounge, the studio has calmed to a cozy rest, looking more like a lived-in home than a workplace. The stylist and makeup teams are working diligently in the meeting room, using the table to prop up their tablets and sketchbooks while they work. Jongho, Mingi, and Yeosang have settled down with lunch and are chattering quietly amongst themselves, while Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Wooyoung are stretched out in the lounge.

Hongjoong sits alone on a plush chair with headphones in, zoned in on his laptop to work. Seonghwa has cuddled up with Yunho on a beanbag, and Wooyoung sprawls out horizontally on the couch. It seems that Yunho and Wooyoung are still playing games together, but Seonghwa is now passed out against Yunho, phone still clutched in hand. Your chest warms at the settled atmosphere, and you let San pull you to the couch. He stops, standing with his hands on his hips and looking down at Wooyoung.

“Oh no,” you groan in mock exasperation. “He’s claimed the couch.”

“Only half of it!” Wooyoung protests, barely lifting his head. “I’m just keeping it warm for you. I’m doing you a favor.” You raise an eyebrow. “You’re even lying on my tablet. Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

He turns his head, seeming to only just now notice it halfway under his shoulder. He offers a shameless grin. “I’m just protecting it. Thieves could be anywhere. Have you seen Jongho-yah when he’s hungry yet?”

San snorts beside you, and Yunho grumbles something about losing because Wooyoung wasn’t paying attention.

“Alright, scooch,” San says, nudging Wooyoung with his knee. He groans dramatically, but obliges, sitting upright and giving just enough space for the two of you to sit beside him. San sits at the edge, slipping his shoes off and swinging his legs up onto the couch, bending his knees so he's lying against the side of the couch and just barely touching Wooyoung with his feet. He pats his stomach invitingly, confident despite the blushed coloring of his ears.

You smile, finding your own cheeks warming at the unexpectedly intimate offer, before enthusiastically climbing to settle between his legs. You sit, leaning against him with your back to his front, letting your head fall back snugly against his chest. He’s strong and well-built, so it makes for good cushioning. You slightly nudge Wooyoung's thigh with your foot.

“Can I borrow your lap?”

Wooyoung looks confused for a moment, but then he beams, immediately patting the backs of your calves and letting you drape your legs over his thighs. Effectively laying on two different members, you’re just about ready to pass out from warmth and content.

“Hey,” Yunho says suddenly, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. “Were you two… hiding in the backroom?” He waggles his eyebrows, and Wooyoung chokes on a cackle.

“Yah, we were just talking!” San argues, clearly flustered.

You laugh, amused by their arguing. Yunho’s head tilts back in a silent cackle at San’s expression, but he lets him be, resting his chin on the crown of Seonghwa’s head and closing his eyes for a rest.

You’re the coziest you’ve ever been. You almost feel bad for everyone else, knowing there’s no way they could be half as content as you are at the moment. San interrupts your thoughts with the gentle rumble of his voice in his chest, hovering his hands near your sides. “Y/N-ah, can I put my hands here?” he asks gently, and your heart stutters at his consideration.

You gently tug his wrists down, and his arms wrap securely around your waist, wrapping you up in a warm embrace. And you thought you couldn't get any more comfortable. Oh how wrong you were.

You sigh happily, turning your head to adjust your position. You catch a glimpse of the meeting room, and you remember with remorse that you are, in fact, still at work. And you have sketches to do.

“Sannie-ah?” you call out softly, quiet so as not to disturb the napping members around you.

“Hm?”

“Will you wake me up in… fifteen minutes or so?” You request, suddenly feeling a bit bad for being this at ease while your coworkers work so hard.

San seems to understand. “Yea, I won’t let you sleep too long. Don’t worry about it.”

That settles you enough, and you close your eyes with a grateful hum. Wooyoung rubs small circles into your ankles with his thumbs, drifting off himself now that he doesn’t have anyone to play with. San’s own hands absentmindedly pat your tummy, his breathing slow. Their repetitive motions, combined warmth, and the concern of oversleeping taken off of you are more than enough to have you drifting off, deeper and deeper into the dark embrace of sleep.

—Extra:

Hongjoong sits up straight with a stretch, deciding he’s made enough progress to earn a break. He stands from the plush chair, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and shutting his laptop with a small pop. He checks the time. He couldn’t have been working for more than an hour, but the stress was enough to make his muscles tense. He rolls his shoulders, turning toward the backroom to fetch a coffee, but he freezes. There, on the couch, are two of his members… and the new makeup artist they’ve slowly been befriending.

She’s wrapped up snugly, San’s arms and wide shoulders nearly swallowing her up from view. Wooyoung has propped a pillow up behind his neck, sitting up straight with her legs in his lap, a blanket draped delicately over the both of them. Hongjoong’s lips part in surprise, the tense pinching of his eyebrows lessening at the sight.

“Aren’t they precious?”

Hongjoong jumps slightly, eyes flicking up to a smiley Kim Ara.

“I told her she could sleep for ten more minutes, but it’s been well over 45 minutes now,” she chides softly, though with no real disdain. “I couldn’t bring myself to wake them, though.”

Hongjoong huffs out a small laugh, eyes pulled down to them again. “They look comfortable.”

She hums, grinning fondly. “She was a good hire. I hope you treat her well,” she says offhandedly, dipping back into the meeting room.

Hongjoong watches her go with slight confusion, not entirely sure what she meant but shrugging it off as his Noona’s strange attempt at workplace etiquette. He turns his attention right back to the three of you, eyes skimming over the calm in each of your expressions.

And sure, maybe he takes the chance to snap a quick photo of the three of you, just for good measure.

His smile lingers, probably longer than it should. Eventually he shakes his head and starts his search for coffee, finding himself glancing back just once more before the door swings shut behind him.

UYT Taglist: @obsessed-withthe-stressed @psychosupernatural @ateezswonderland @herpoetryprincess @nkryuki @thuyting @rosegracewood09 @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @queenofdumbfuckery @bbokarismeow @vtyb23 @soso59love-blog @mira-inlove @lover-ofallthingspretty @thegingerthatwaited @juicyjaxxy @ateez-atiny380 @ldysmfrst @chatsgotmytongue @satsuri3su @persassyismysecrettwin @cloudserenity @bellaptv @beljakovina

This Fic belongs to @frflyavenue and nobody else—please do not steal this work or any other works by this author <3

Chapter 6: In progress ;)

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anakinstwinklebunny · 6 months ago

Text

ANAKIN SKYWALKER HEADCANONS

Author's note: this may be.. different

Anakin Skywalker who has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. He is the type to remember something from years ago in painstaking detail—like the exact color of your dress the first time he saw you or a specific phrase you once said that made him laugh—but completely forget why he walked into a room five seconds ago.

He’d be so frustrated with himself, too:

«I can rebuild an entire podracer from memory, but I can’t remember where I put my damn lightsaber five minutes ago!»

If you would just tease him about it, his lips would twist into a pout;

“Well, at least I remembered the anniversary of our first kiss.” (Cue him smugly crossing his arms while you roll your eyes.)

Anakin Skywalker who has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen;

He’d sit cross-legged on his bed in the quarters, hunched over the journal with the sparkly pen in hand, writing furiously:

«Mission Log: Obi-Wan still doesn’t get it. He says I’m reckless, but who saved his ass again today? Oh, right, me. Also, y/n smiled at me when I said goodbye, and I’m not saying it means anything, but maybe it does. Anyway, I need a new purple pen—this one’s running out of glitter ink.»

Anakin Skywalker's diary would be filled with doodles of podracers, little hearts around your name, and the occasional rant about sand;

Humming softly, he bent over the page, scrawling your name in his bold, messy handwriting. He frowned, mumbling under his breath about his uneven letters before shrugging it off. Next to your name, he started to doodle little hearts, as if each colorful heart was the show of his affection. Pink, silver, gold—he used every glittery color he had, filling the margin with love-struck decorations.

He paused, tapping the pen against his lips thoughtfully before scribbling, «You’re my favorite everything», right under your name. The ink shimmered in the dim light, catching his eye in a way that made him grin.

He felt ridiculous, like some love-struck teenager, but he didn’t care. This was for you, even if you’d never see it. A quiet, glittery tribute to the person who made the galaxy feel a little less dark.

A soft knock startled him, and his head snapped up, his heart skipping when your voice came through the door.

“Anakin? You still awake?”

Scrambling, he slapped the diary shut and stuffed it under his pillow, cheeks burning as he tried to change his expression into something casual. “Uh, yeah! Just… meditating!”

When the door slid open and you stepped in, his breath hitched. You were in your sleepwear, hair slightly tousled, and that soft smile on your face made him melt. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Meditating, huh? With glitter on your fingers?”

He looked down, cursing under his breath at the sparkling pink smudge across his thumb. “Uh… yeah, it’s a new technique.”

Anakin Skywalker who has a sketchbook, where he draws A LOT of things. Podraces, you, ships, speeders, random people on the street

Anakin Skywalker who once brought you flowers after a mission;

He trudged through the Jedi Temple’s halls, boots barely making a sound on the polished floor as he fidgets with the bouquet in his hands. Well, bouquet was a generous term. It was more of a sorry-looking cluster of flowers, their once-vibrant petals now limp and pale, some barely clinging to their stems. A petal fluttered to the ground just as he took another step, and he stopped mid-step to glare at it, like he could will it back into place.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his messy curls, smearing a streak of dirt across his cheek. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. Why does everything he does fall apart before it even gets to you? His pout deepened as he plucked out the most shriveled flower, tossing it to the side with a defeated sigh.

Finally, he reached your chambers. Standing outside the door, he took a deep breath, smoothing down his tunic with his free hand and rearranging the flowers one last time. Maybe if he held them at just the right angle, you wouldn’t notice the sorry state they were in.

The door slid open, and there you were, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your expression softening the second you saw him.

“Ani?” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

His voice was unusually sheepish as he held out the flowers, eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“I, uh… I picked these for you. On my mission. But, um… they didn’t exactly survive the wait.”

You looked down at the wilted bouquet in his calloused hands, a few petals already scattered on the floor at his boots.

“They’re perfect,” you said softly, reaching for the flowers.

He blinked, pout fading into something almost hopeful. “You don’t have to say that. They look terrible—”

You cut him off with a kiss, lips pressing to his tenderly, hands resting on his chest. He stiffened for half a second before melting into you, his arms wrapping around your waist, the bouquet forgotten as it dangled by his side.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him again for good measure.

He huffed, but his cheeks were pink, his free hand gently stroking your back. “I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Even while I was out there. I saw them and thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you assured him, cradling his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the dirt smudges on his cheek. “And I love you for bringing them to me, even if it meant walking through the Temple like this in the middle of the night.”

Anakin Skywalker who sneaked out with you to lower levels of coruscant;

As you passed by a flower stall, the vibrant colors caught his attention. He paused, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, before reaching out and plucking two purple blooms—one light lavender, the other a deep, rich violet.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, flashing you a smile as he walked back to you, holding the flowers gently.

“Here,” he tucked the lighter lavender flower behind your ear. Fingers lingered on your skin just for a moment, a little touch, a little enough to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled softly, cheeks flushing.

He grinned mischievously, then slid the darker flower into the breast pocket of his jacket. "For me," voice low, teasing.

You stared at him, smile widening as the warmth spread through you. “Now, that’s a perfect match,” you whispered, giggling.

“Mm-hmm,” the grin on his face stretched even wider. You could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips curved up as if to say, «this is my favorite moment ever»

“Got it,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hands together like you were taking a picture in the air.

Anakin's face softened for a moment, and then a gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands in front of him like he was about to snap a photo, just like you did. He mimicked your pose, grinning widely “Got it,” he repeated with a smirk.

Anakin Skywalker who as a young baby used to give you flowers from Jedi temple garden;

“This is for you!” he’d chirp, holding the flower up as if it were the most precious gift in the galaxy.

You’d kneel down to his level, heart melting into a puddle at how shyly he’d avert his gaze, cheeks tinged pink. “For me? It’s beautiful, Ani.”

His smile widened, bright enough to rival with the Coruscant sun. “I thought it’d look pretty on you,” he’d mumble before stepping closer, his small fingers fumbling to tuck it behind your ear.

Affection swelled in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin, before he’d pull back to inspect his handiwork with thoughtful expression. “There,” he’d declare softly, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Your little arms would wrap tightly around his neck, voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ani. You’re my favorite Jedi, you know that?”

“You’re my favorite everything.”

Anakin Skywalker who would eat most of your food he'd find in your chambers

Anakin Skywalker who smells like vanilla

Anakin Skywalker who loves when you stroke his back in the morning while he's still sleepy and just nuzzling to his pillow;

Soft, golden glow of the sunrise gently filtered through the curtains in your chambers , casting a gentle illumination across the side of the room. Anakin laid sprawled across the bed, body entangled in sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, tousled curls sticking to his forehead in a mix of shadows cast by the night and the faint morning light. You, propped up on one arm, tenderly stroked his back, fingertips gliding over his skin while time to time pressing gentle kisses to his bare shoulder. The sensation stirred his body slightly, and he shifted beneath your touch, acting like a contented puppy who curled up to enjoy the affection.

his words laced with a lazy, sleepy drawl. "Don’t stop," he murmured, a soft groan escaping his lips with his eyes remaining closed. With a gentle smile, you continued your gentle caresses, tracing small circles across his back, watching him shift and sigh while his muscles relaxed under your touch.

But as you took your hand away to change your position, he stirred once more, rolling onto his side to face you. His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with the remnants of sleep, a soft, pleading expression in his tone. "C'mon... more... please," his hand reaching out towards you, pulling you closer, fingers grazing along the sheets. You let out a soft chuckle, but without hesitation, drew closer to him and your hand shot out to find itself in his curls. With delicate fingers, you ran them through the soft strands, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a small hitch in his breath.

Anakin Skywalker who read tons of books, watched a lot of videos about gardening all to make you proud that he could seed tulips and make them grow

Anakin Skywalker who secretly sips on your coffee, always muttering that «sharing is caring»

Anakin Skywalker who makes «your mom» jokes

Anakin Skywalker who constantly hacks their stats in every video game he plays

Anakin Skywalker who uses the word «fuck» like a comma.

Anakin Skywalker who definitely has a roblox account and even though he's a softie, he bullies some kids there;

He logs in with the most ridiculous username, something like DarthSlayer69, and his avatar is over-the-top—dark cape, glowing red eyes, and a lightsaber accessory. He’s spent way too much time customizing it because, of course, he has to look intimidating.

And then? He enters some innocent game like Adopt Me! or Brookhaven and immediately starts causing mayhem.

"Get off my property, kid," he types in the chat, standing in front of a house he didn’t even buy.

In Tower of Hell, he’d purposely push people off platforms, then type: "Too slow. Guess you weren’t strong enough."

If anyone dared to clap back, he’d go full into fighting back; "Do you know who I am? I’ve fought in wars. You’re just a noob with bad Wi-Fi."

When you walk into the room while he’s cackling at his antics, you took one look at the screen, and roll your eyes.

"Anakin, are you bullying children again?"

"No, angel, I’m teaching them a valuable lesson." He'd say too smugly

Anakin Skywalker who uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner yet still has the softest hair ever, which obviously makes you mad because you have to use tons of products to make your hair look decent.

Anakin Skywalker who fixes your lightsaber too often;

Anakin leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched you sheepishly place your lightsaber in front of him. His expression was equal parts of amused and exasperated

"Again?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. "It... broke."

"It broke," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. He picked up the hilt, turning it over in his hands like inspecting some troublesome droid. "No, sweetheart, you broke it. What did you do this time? Smash it against a rock? Use it to pry open a door?"

"I didn’t!" you protested, immediately crossing your arms in self-defense. "I was fighting, and—"

"And you lost control," he finished for you, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You know, lightsabers are meant for precision. Not..." He gestured vaguely, as if mimicking you wildly flailing the weapon around.

Your face flushed at that, and you jabbed a finger at him. "Are you going to fix it or just stand there and tease me all day, Master Skywalker?"

At the sound of his full title, he grinned, as if it alone was enough to satisfy his ego. Setting the hilt down on the bench, he reached for his tools. "Oh, I’ll fix it. Like I always do. But you know..." He shot you a sly glance. Uh, oh.."If you keep this up, I’m going to start charging you."

"Charging me?" You blinked, incredulous. "With what? We don’t even use credits in the Order!"

He leaned in closer, smirk deepening. "Not credits, sweetheart. Favors." his eyes roamed down and up your body

Your stomach did a little flip "Favors?"

He nodded, picking up a small tool and starting to carefully disassemble the damaged saber. "Mm-hmm. Maybe you take over my chores for a week. Or you could cook dinner for once instead of ordering ration packs. Or..." He set the tool down and leaned in again, voice dropping to a near-whisper, eyes darting down to your lips. "You could just kiss me every time you break it."

you scoffed "That’s a ridiculous system," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer

"Is it?" he murmured, breath warm against your skin. "Seems fair to me. I put in the work, and I get a little reward."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. "Fine," you relented, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his in a soft, quick peck, and you felt him smile against you.

When you finally pulled back, he looked far too pleased with himself.

"See?" tone smug. "Much better payment than credits."

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sensorytuna · 4 months ago

Text

── LOVE ME NOT.

part one . part two .

synopsis . as the guidance counselor of south park middle school, you support students, parents, teachers and administrators to ensure that the highest levels of student success can be obtained. but when two children with familiar last names keep on landing themselves a trip to your office, you're left with no choice but to break no contact and call two men that you have dug deep in your past.

notes . occasional swearing, age gap change between the mccormick siblings and broflovski brothers, lowercase intented, aged up chatacters (in their 20s) a choose your own ending series

♡ : kyle broflovski / kenny mccormick (K2) x reader

- your office is a mess of paperwork, a half-eaten granola bar, and stress-induced regret when the clock hits 4:30PM

- "so," you start

- "why am i seeing you two again?"

- ike broflovski and karen mccormick sat across from you, both in their respective chairs like two gremlins awaiting judgment

- you are one bad argument away from strangling them both

- you sigh, rubbing your temples as you glance at the two kids

- both of them have matching indifferent expressions like this is a normal tuesday for the two of them

- (which unfortunately it is)

- "didn't do anything," ike shrugs

- karen snorts at that

- ike is staring at the ceiling like it just personally insulted his entire family

- karen is slouched in her seat, legs stretched out with her hood up

- she's a sweet child, really

- until ike roped her into—

- "uh-huh," you flip through the files and the angry comments from their advisors in colorful sticky notes

- "let's see—oh wow, property damage? do i even wanna know?"

- ike grins like a little shit while karen shrugs, still not looking at you

- "depends," he says

- "do you want plausible deniability?"

- you pinch the bridge of your nose

- "okay, whatever. we'll get to that later."

- you spin your chair to the voip phone resting on your table, grabbing the handset and furiously dialing the phone numbers you saw from the scribbled emergency contacts in both kids' information files

- first up; mrs. broflovski

- ring... ring... ring...

- suddenly, in full speaker mode—

- "hello! you’ve reached the broflovski residence! if this is about a fundraiser, we already donated! if this is about a petition, send me the link and i’ll sign it! if this is about a complaint—just know that i am a mother, and i will not tolerate any nonsense about my family! leave a message after the beep, and i’ll get back to you when i can. kisses!"

- there's a short pause at that

- followed by a muffled "sheila, you need to shorten that—" before the voicemail cut off

- you hung up without leaving a message

- ike sighed loudly at the end of the voicemail, rolling his eyes

- "told you she wouldn't come here"

- karen snorts, who had been listening to the voicemail too

- you weren't even sure if you should call mrs. mccormick

- but you try to anyway

- ring... ring... ring...

- "yeah?"

- it's gruff, vaguely annoyed, sound just like mrs. mccormick herself

- "uh.. mrs. mccormick?" you start

- karen straights up slightly

- there's a pause, then a long drag of a cigarette

- "who's askin'?"

- you take a deep breath

- "this is the school counselor. i'm talking about karen."

- there's another pause

- in the background, there's a muffled voice of man speaking

- "who the hell is that?"

- carol sighed like speaking was too much effort for her, "the school."

- more muffled grumbling, then carol comes back to you

- "she ain't dead, is she?"

- your stomach twisted at that mere thought

- karen shook her head, going "god dammit, mom..." under her breath

- "no! no, she's—she's fine. but she and a friend got into some trouble at school, and we need a guardian to come in."

- more silence

- she takes a slow drag on the other side, then a sharp sniff like she was holding back a yawn

- suddenly

- "yeah, that ain't happenin'."

- you blink

- "i'm sorry?"

- "i said, that ain't happenin'. whatever it is, tell her don't do it again. there. problem solved. 'kay, bye."

- click

- she hung up

- you stare at the handset with an unreadable expression before putting it back in the voip

- right

- that went just as how you expected it to be

- karen bit the inside of her cheek, scoffing before looking away

- you took the hint of saying nothing about that before glancing down at your own phone

- being a guidance counselor pays off apparently, judging by the current model of your phone

- you still have their numbers

- kyle and kenny

- you pause at the sight of their contact names, your hands beginning to get all clammy at the abrupt thought of them

- you text kyle first

- you: ike is in my office again. your mom isn't answering, come get him

- in under any circumstances DO NOT CALL: are you serious

- in under any circumstances DO NOT CALL: jesus christ i'll be there in five minutes

- you let out a sigh of relief you didn't realize you were holding before going to kenny

- you: karen's here, your parents said fuck no so can you come by

- scam likely: lol what did she do this time

- you: kenny

- scam likely: yeah yeah i'm coming over

— ♡ —

- kyle arrives first

- you hear his footsteps down the hall, brisk and determined

- your office door swings open and there he is

- dressed in business casual, sleeves rolled up, glasses on, looking like he just walked out of an important meeting that he absolutely had to interrupt to deal with his brother’s bullshit

- damn

- "ike," he gritted his teeth

- "are you fucking kidding me?"

- "wasn't me," ike immediately counters while kyle took a seat on the couch

- "oh my god."

- you clear your throat, hiding your smirk

- "kyle—"

- "sorry," he says, shaking his head

- "hi. long time, no see."

- he gives you an awkward smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes

- possibly because he's holding in the urge to strangle his brother right in front of you

- "thanks for calling me."

- he turns back to ike, his curt smile immediately disappearing

- "i'm telling mom when we get home, dipshit."

- just then, the door creaks open once more

- kenny peeks his head in, looking far less rushed

- "hey babe,"

- you blink

- "excuse me?"

- his grin widens, "sorry, force of habit."

- that was NOT a force of habit

- kenny steps inside, still in his car workshop uniform like he's visiting an old friend

- technically

- he is

- "hey kenny!" karen grins, looking at her brother

- "hey sweetheart," kenny greets back, ruffling her hair while he sat down beside kyle

- "so what's the damage?"

- "yeah, they broke the sink."

- kenny snorts, whereas kyle groans

- a sharp contrast between the two

- "hell yeah, that's my girl."

- "christ, dude. nothing changed about you."

- you sigh

- "okay, okay. let's just... deal with this."

- "so what's the punishment? detention? suspension?" kyle looks at you, expecting you to be the other adult in the room

- you glance at kenny, who's sitting beside him like he lives here

- and then your eyes wander to the kids, completely unbothered

- "it's a one month suspension. they broke a damn sink in the bathrooms."

- kyle scoffed, running his hands through his face

- "great job, sweetie." kenny grins, fist-bumping karen

- this is gonna be a long day

TWO DAMN BITCHES AT THE SAME DAMN TIME 😜😜😜😜 (want a part 2? it's coming soon teehee)

#south park #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x you #k2 south park #south park k2 #x reader #gn reader

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sunskisser · 11 months ago

Note

heyyyy do you think you could write a James blurb where reader hangs with Severus and Lily (she's a Snape but it's not really common knowledge as she's a few years younger) and everyone thinks James likes to come around for Lily but it's actually for the reader? I love your work btw!!!

yes, of course!! and thank you ♡

beautiful | j.p.

tw: fluff

snape!reader, james potter x reader

A frustrated sigh escapes Severus’ lips as you flick a petal at him for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening. You can feel the quivers in Lily’s body from where you’re laying on her lap as she laughs.

O.W.L.S. had just ended for your brother and best friend, so you dragged them down to your usual spot beneath the silver-leafed tree for a picnic. Lily was concentratedly twining vines together, crafting a daisy crown.

The light breeze caused her auburn hair to cover her face as she worked, the sun hitting her face in all the right places. She looked like some sort of heavenly wood nymph, you thought as you stared up at her. She was really really pretty.

Meanwhile, Severus was engrossed in some old, weathered-down potions book - furiously scribbling down notes for god-knows-what. Your legs were propped up on his lap as you threw the petals which occasionally fell from Lily’s flower crown at him. His expression was growing more cross by the second.

Your brother starts to grumble at you under his breath as a petal drifts straight into his nostril. A giggle bubbles out of you as he sneezes and the petal shoots out his nose, not missing the huff of annoyance he let out.

“If mother hadn’t instructed me to take care of you,” he mutters, a hint of irritation in his tone as he rubs his nose, “I would’ve tossed you into the black lake already.”

Lily grins, flicking your forehead as you bat your eyelashes at him playfully. “You love me.”

“Lies.”

“You bought me a whole bag of chocolate last weekend!”

“That was merely because-”

Your brother’s rambling comes to a halt, his eyes suddenly narrowing as he glares at something across the field of grass. His mouth twists up into a disgruntled frown.

You follow his line of vision to see none other than James Potter stumbling towards your clique, casting dirty looks at his friends behind him as they urge him towards you.

A sigh escapes you before you can even think about it. It annoyed you greatly, whenever James came crawling after you all like a desperate dog, just for the sake of Lily.

That was all it was, you tried to convince yourself. You told yourself that the acidic burning sensation of your heart in your chest was just because it was frustrating how obsessed he was, how his eyes lit up whenever they landed on Lily, how he stumbled over his words whenever he was near.

He was annoying, a stupidly beautiful wanker with an achingly gorgeous smile and eyes so bright they could rival the stars.

But you knew why you really hated him, and it frustrated you immensely. You despised him for liking Lily, hated his guts for not liking you instead. It was sickening, the way he gazed at her. And it was even more disgusting how envy took ahold of your entire being when that happened.

It gutted you, whenever you saw him looking at your best friend with heart-eyes. But it was obvious why - she was everything a guy could ever want, and she was a perfect girl for the golden boy. How could you even think about rivalling her?

What upset you the most, though, was how Lily always seemed to ignore him, looking away and rolling her eyes when his eyes met hers. You wanted to shake her, yell at her for being so ungrateful and wrack some sense into her brain. But all you did was stare quietly at the ground whenever James was near, zoning out so you didn’t have to hear the sickeningly mushy stuff which surely poured out his mouth in front of Lily.

So it was an understatement to say that your heart stopped when you heard your name coming out his mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, snapping back to the present as you press your palms down on the grass to lift your head from Lily’s lap. “What?”

James was looking at you anxiously now, with that glimmer in his eyes and a nervous smile. “Y/n, I um… I asked if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me? Tomorrow?”

You blink, the cogs still turning in your head. It was unfathomable, James Potter asking you out. Surely, it had to be a joke or a dare or something. Or maybe he meant to ask Lily, that was probably it. He had just asked the wrong person and was too nice to go back on his word, right?

“But you like Lily!” you blurt out immediately, a pang of hurt overwhelming you, for both you and your best friend. James’ eyebrows bunch up in puzzlement, his lips slowly twisting up into an almost comical smile. “Lily? You think I like Lily?”

You were sure you’d get whiplash from how fast you turned around to look at Lily, seeing her eyebrows bunched in confusion. “So, you don’t like me, Potter?”

He chuckles, a bit of the tension leaving his muscular frame as he shakes his head. “Redhead, you’re cool and all. But Y/n….” His gaze flicks over to you, and the affection in his eyes made you want to melt into a pool of hot mush.

Lily starts to smile, before it turns into a full-blown grin and she turns to you, nudging your elbow suggestively.

“Me?” you question slowly, suspiciously. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart felt like it was going to burst even at the prospect of going out with him. “You like me?”

James immediately nods, turning slightly red at how long it was taking him to get an acceptance from you. But then again, he thinks he’d wait a lifetime for you to say yes, and he’d wait forever even if you said no.

Just then, you hear a loud cough on your left, and turn to see Severus glaring at you with a deadpan expression on his face.

You feel an arm bristle the hair on your head as Lily reaches over from your right, mussing up your brother’s hair. You laugh as he swats her away, tsking and cursing under his breath. “Shut up, Sev. Let my girl have her moment.”

Severus, to his credit, does shut up. Though he still has that bleary, stormy look on his face.

You turn back to James, slightly dizzy as the thought began to plant itself in your brain. The smile on his face was asking a million questions, holding a hundred insecurities. Yet you knew that there was only one right answer to them all.

“Yes,” you say softly, your lips beginning to curve upwards. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

“Yeah?” he asks, starting to grin. He lets out an exhale and scratches the back of his head, smiling at the floor before looking back at you. “Alright, then. I’ll pick you up outside the Great Hall, 5pm.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He beams at you, and it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen a person look before. “Bye, Y/n. And redhead, and Snivellus.”

James winks at you before turning around, causing your heart to jump and lodge itself in your throat. He jogs back to his group of friends waiting with wide eyes and bated breath.

A moment later, you can hear the cheers and whoops from across the field.

You turn back to Severus, afraid of what you’d find. He’s gazing at you with a terse expression on his face as you gulp anxiously.

“I’m sorry. If you’re not okay with it…”

“No. You are not going to bail out on him,” he says, the firmness in his voice catching you by surprise. “I know how long you’ve been waiting for this. And this is something you need to learn to do, getting your hands on the things you want. You’re a Snape, you always get what you want, you hear me?”

You nod helplessly.

“And if what you want is Potter,” he sneers, “Then Potter it is. Just don’t expect me to play nice.”

A small smile graces your lips. “Thank you.” You know he’d understand what you meant, all the things you were thanking him for.

You can see him start to soften, though perhaps that frown would be etched on his face permanently. He sighs, “Yes, yes. You’re welcome.”

Lily squeals and forcefully turns you towards her, gripping your hands. “This is awesome.”

“You’re just glad he doesn’t like you.”

“Am not!” she exclaims, but the mirth in her eyes betrays her.

You sigh, smiling bemusedly as you lie back down on her lap, watching her continue to craft the flower crowns. Maybe you’d give James one tomorrow, though you doubt he could look more beautiful than he already did.

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antinousletmehit · 6 months ago

Note

hey pretty person!

may I please, please, please, PLEASE, request some writing for Hephaestus? it doesn't have to be epic, just some Hephaestus writing. it doesn't even have to be romantic, just some chill platonic thing. i'll take ANYTHING. Hephaestus is SOOO underrated. it can be something like him taking in an apprentice at his forge or something, please, he's so cool.

please feel free to ignore!

୨୧┇Hephaestus x reader (platonic)

୨୧┇bro MIGHT like Hephaestus

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Hephaestus wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, the heat of the forge licking at his face. The clang of metal echoed through his cavernous workshop as he hammered away at a bronze chestplate, its surface glinting in the firelight. It was a good day for creating, as they all were.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke his focus, followed by an eager voice calling out.

“Master Hephaestus! Master Hephaestus! You’ve got to see this!”

He sighed, though a small smile tugged at his lips as he turned to face his apprentice. You stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear, your arms cradling what appeared to be a mess of gears, wires, and springs. “What is it this time, little one?” he asked, setting his hammer aside and folding his arms. “It’s an automatic bellows system!” you exclaimed, holding up the contraption as though it were the greatest invention in the world. “See? You wind this crank, and it’ll keep pumping air into the forge without anyone needing to work it manually!”

Hephaestus raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure it works?”

You hesitated, your grin faltering just slightly. “Well… no. Not yet. But it will!”

He let out a deep chuckle and gestured for you to bring it over. “Let’s have a look, then.”

You practically skipped to his side, setting the device down on a nearby workbench. As you began explaining its mechanics in rapid detail, your hands gestured wildly, your enthusiasm bubbling over. Hephaestus listened patiently, nodding along and occasionally interjecting with suggestions. “See this gear here?” he said, pointing to a small, poorly aligned cog. “That’s going to jam the whole thing if you don’t adjust it.”

“Oh! Right, right,” you said, scribbling notes furiously on a scrap of parchment. “I’ll fix that! Thanks, Master Hephaestus!” He smirked. “You’re getting better, you know. Not quite there yet, but you’ve got the spark.”

Your chest swelled with pride at his words, and you beamed up at him. “You really think so?”

“I wouldn’t have taken you on if I didn’t,” he replied. “Now, let’s see about getting this thing working before you burn the place down.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon tinkering with the device, laughing and joking as you worked. You couldn’t help but make silly remarks to lighten the mood, even when things went wrong. “Do you think I could attach this to a chariot?” you asked at one point, holding up a part of the bellows system. Hephaestus raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the chariot to explode?”

You burst out giggling. “Maybe! That’d be kind of cool, wouldn’t it?” He shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You’re going to be the death of me, child.” By the end of the day, the bellows system was far from perfect, but it was functional enough to give you a sense of accomplishment. As you packed up your tools, you turned to Hephaestus with a bright smile.

“Thanks for helping me, Master Hephaestus,” you said earnestly. “You’re the best teacher ever.”

He grunted, though there was a warmth in his eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve still got a long way to go. But…you’re doing good work.”

Your smile widened, and with a playful salute, you skipped out of the forge, already planning your next invention.

Hephaestus watched you go, shaking his head with a fond smile. The forge had been a quiet place before you arrived, and while he sometimes missed the silence, he couldn’t deny that your energy brought a new kind of life to his workshop.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #hephaestus #greek mythology x reader #greek mythology #hephaestus x reader

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iyoonjh · 2 months ago

Text

Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 16: From Dungeon to Deck Chair: The Fellowship of the Beach

wc: 2082 words

The apartment smelled like pizza, bad decisions, and the faint threat of Monster Mango Punch.

Soobin sat cross-legged on the carpet, pencil tucked behind one ear, a character sheet half-filled beside him, and a bowl of pretzel sticks within reach. Beomgyu had a bandana tied around his forehead for “battle energy,” Hueningkai was double-fisting Capri Suns like a sugar-fueled druid, and Taehyun—eternal Dungeon Master and occasional monk—sat at the head of the table with a mini fog machine and actual laminated maps.

“I cast Charm on the goblin guard,” Beomgyu declared, holding up a sparkly d20. “And then I ask him if he’s emotionally fulfilled in his job.”

“I’m going to scream,” Taehyun said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re trying to seduce the goblin again?”

“I’m trying to connect with him,” Beomgyu shot back. “Consentually. And with vibes.”

Sunghoon was perched on the edge of the couch in a hoodie two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowed his hands completely, giving him the appearance of a moody High Elf who’d been hexed into eternal comfort. He held a spell card up in front of him with the seriousness of a Shakespearean lead about to deliver a monologue in Act III of a drama no one else had read.

“By the celestial light of the twin moons,” he intoned, squinting dramatically, “I summon the sacred winds of Elarion—wait, wait, do I add my modifier to this?”

“Yes, but only if you’re not holding a cursed item,” Taehyun said without looking up.

“I’m literally holding a cursed item,” Sunghoon sighed.

Beside him, Heeseung sat cross-legged with perfect posture, playing a kazoo version of The Lord of the Rings theme song like it was his druid-bardic duty. He was wearing a DIY cloak made from an old blanket and had penciled a tiny mustache onto his upper lip with eyeliner.

“I’m adding ambiance,” he said cheerfully, ignoring Yeonjun’s fourth aggressive glance.

“I will snap that kazoo in half like a breadstick,” Yeonjun hissed, glaring at him from across the table.

Yeonjun himself was the most overdressed person in the room—tight black jeans, silver rings on every finger, and a velvet choker that absolutely did not match his wizard robe but somehow still worked. He had two sets of dice laid out on a silk cloth like a tarot reading and a single tealight candle flickering dramatically beside his character sheet.

“You don't understand the mood,” he said when Taehyun asked if the candle was really necessary. “Besides, my dice roll better when they feel respected.”

Hueningkai was lying on his stomach across a bean bag, sketching an anatomically incorrect dragon with sunglasses on the back of a pizza box. He kept muttering things like “do goblins wear shoes?” and “how much emotional trauma can one elf carry before he becomes a bard?” Every few minutes, he’d gasp, snap his fingers, and write down notes for his future webcomic.

“Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” he said suddenly, looking up. “Imagine breaking all three. That’s so dramatic. I want to play a sea creature who just got ghosted by a mermaid and now he haunts tide pools.”

Leehan sat cross-legged by the window, furiously scribbling in a weathered field journal labeled Tidal Lore: Volume II. He wore a “Support Your Local Fish” T-shirt under a faded zip-up and had five different highlighters spread around him like a ritual circle. Occasionally, he’d whisper something to himself and nod solemnly, as if communing with the spirit of Poseidon.

It was chaos. Beautiful, stupid chaos.

Soobin had barely spoken in the last ten minutes. Not because he wasn’t having fun—he was, truly—but because his phone kept lighting up with new messages. From Y/N.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

That, of course, was his first mistake.

“Okay.” Yeonjun narrowed his eyes across the room like a hawk with better fashion sense. “Why is Soobin smiling like he just got kissed under a rainbow?”

Soobin blinked, thumb still hovering over his screen. “What?”

“Bro’s been checking his phone every six seconds,” Hueningkai said through a mouthful of gummy worms. “You’re glowing. Like, that glow people get when they are pregnant. It’s alarming.”

“I am not—” Soobin started.

“HE’S SOFT-LEANING,” Beomgyu gasped, pointing. “That’s the ‘I’m flirting with my crush and pretending I’m not panicking’ posture. Boobie, know your worth my boy.”

Sunghoon leaned forward. “Did Y/N text you?”

Soobin hesitated. And in that half-second of hesitation, the room exploded.

“Oh my GOD,” Heeseung howled. “She did!”

“Okay spill” Taehyun demanded, slamming his dice bag on the table with the weight of a federal agent.

Soobin sighed, but he couldn’t fight the grin crawling up his face. “Okay, fine. She invited me. Well, us.”

A beat. A pause so sharp you could hear the dramatic swell of nerdy destiny approaching.

“To…?” Hueningkai asked.

“Jake’s beach house,” Soobin said. “This weekend.”

The room erupted.

“WE’VE BEEN CHOSEN!” Beomgyu shouted, throwing his arms into the air like he was being knighted.

“We beat the social game,” Yeonjun said in awe. “We’re getting a beach episode.”

“I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life,” Heeseung whispered, dramatically clutching his character sheet to his chest.

Sunghoon rolled off the couch entirely.

“I can’t go to a beach,” he groaned from the floor. “I’ll burn. I’ll melt. I’m pale and emotionally fragile.”

“I don’t own a swimsuit that’s not from middle school,” Hueningkai added. “It has Charizard on it.”

“BRING IT,” said Beomgyu immediately. “I’m wearing my sailor moon rash guard. We go down together.”

Leehan looked up from his sketchpad, completely serene. “Do you think I’ll be able to identify local tidepool species from the balcony?”

“Leehan,” Yeonjun said gently, “please do not give the crabs names again.”

“I only named five.”

“They followed him back to the Airbnb,” Taehyun muttered.

“THEY UNDERSTOOD ME.”

“Can we focus?” Soobin said, cheeks warm, eyes wide. “She invited us. That means we have to—like—be normal like we were at the party.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he choked. “Yeah, right. Bro, you summoned a ghost in the last campaign by accident and apologized to it for interrupting her grave nap.”

“I’m just saying,” Soobin said, flustered, “this trip is kind of a big deal.”

“Because of Y/N,” Taehyun smirked.

“Because of—shut up. SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY.”

Yeonjun tossed a chip at him. “Just admit you’re already imagining a slow-motion beach kiss while a ukulele plays in the distance.”

“I—”

“And then you trip on seaweed and try to play it cool but she has to help you up,” Hueningkai added.

“And then you say something like ‘You’re prettier than the moonlight on the tide’ and we all die,” Beomgyu finished.

Soobin covered his face with both hands. “I hate all of you.”

“No, no,” Yeonjun said, leaning forward with a sparkle in his eye that could only mean chaos. “Important question. Who’s going?”

Soobin peeked out between his fingers. “I don’t know. Y/N said her whole group. Probably Jake, Jungwon, Yunjin, Sunoo, Jay—”

Yeonjun’s head snapped toward him. “Jay?”

“Oh god,” Soobin mumbled.

“JAY,” Yeonjun repeated, gripping the back of the chair. “My nemesis. My forever enemy. My beige counterpart. I must prepare.”

“Your what now?” Taehyun asked flatly.

“Listen,” Yeonjun said, standing up as if that would make his next sentence make sense. “We’ve spoken, like, three times ever. But every time he says something, I feel personally attacked. At the party he called my necklace ‘dramatic.’ Dramatic! It was a minimalist silver dagger!”

“He said in a fun way, he was trying to be social with you’” Beomgyu added helpfully.

“And yet,” Yeonjun said with a finger in the air, “Yunjin laughed.”

“Ah,” Heeseung said. “There it is.”

Yeonjun flopped dramatically back onto the couch. “If she’s there, I have to look good.”

“I saw a guy on instagram selling a cologne he promised to be aphrodisiac” Sunghoon offered from the floor.

“And that's a pyramid scheme” Leehan told him.

“I’ll bring backup necklaces,” Yeonjun muttered to himself. “Statement pieces. Ones that scream ‘I'm in a band and also collect knives.’”

“You're in a band with Hueningkai” Heeseung mocked.

“Why do your accessories have backstories?” Soobin asked.

“They’re part of my lore.”

Meanwhile, Hueningkai, who had been very quiet until now, looked up with wide eyes. “What if we see dolphins?”

Everyone paused.

“I mean, yeah,” Soobin said slowly. “That could happen.”

“No. Like, what if they’re watching us?” Hueningkai whispered. “From just below the surface. Judging our land-walking rituals. Like, ‘look at these fools and their SPF 30.’”

Beomgyu gasped. “Kai. Have you been reading dolphin conspiracy blogs again?”

“I haven’t stopped,” he replied solemnly. “Also, fun fact: dolphins are one of the few non-human species that can recognize themselves in a mirror. So I’m gonna bring one to the beach. Just in case.”

“So what?” Heeseung asked, grinning. “You’re gonna walk up to the water, hold up a mirror, and wait to vibe-check the ocean?”

“Yes,” Hueningkai said without hesitation. “And if they wink at me, we’ll know. We’ll know.”

“You know what?” Taehyun muttered. “I’m not even gonna stop you. I want to see how that plays out.”

“Can I help?” Leehan asked, folding his crab journal closed with reverence. “I can chart dolphin reactions based on lunar phase and water clarity.”

“You’re all unhinged,” Soobin said, somehow fondly.

“Wait,” Yeonjun interjected, suddenly serious. “What are you wearing?”

Soobin blinked. “What?”

“To the beach. You’re the romantic lead now, remember?” Yeonjun leaned forward again, eyes gleaming, Heeseung shook his head. “You need to serve something soft. Boyfriend at golden hour. Wind in your hair, gaze full of longing.”

“He can wear that light blue hoodie,” Sunghoon offered. “It's very boyfriendable”

“Oh my god, I’m not—” Soobin buried his face again, this time in the nearest pillow.

“We are styling you for your beach romance,” Yeonjun said proudly. “This is our Clueless montage. I will not be denied.”

“Just don’t let him wear that one shirt,” Beomgyu said. “You know. The cursed one.”

Soobin looked up. “What cursed shirt?”

“The minions one.”

“I like that shirt.”

“We know,” everyone said in unison.

And then—

A beat of silence.

Soft. Happy. The kind of pause that felt like a smile exhaled into the air, filling up all the little spaces between them. Outside, the hum of late-night traffic drifted past Taehyun’s apartment windows. Inside, the glow from the string lights made everything look golden, like this wasn’t just another weekend but the beginning of something else entirely.

The map on the table was still spread open. The dice lay scattered, untouched for once. And around the room—this warm, weird, chaotic room—sat seven boys who had started this campaign as just friends and had somehow become their own little universe.

Taehyun looked around, his gaze quiet but steady, a knowing softness in his eyes. “You know…” he said, voice low, like anything louder might scare the feeling away, “I think we’re gonna have a good time.”

He wasn’t talking about D&D anymore. And everyone knew it.

Because this wasn’t just a trip. It was them, getting to be part of something. Getting invited. Getting chosen.

It was walking into a party and not standing in the corner.

It was laughing too loud and being laughed with, not at.

It was the quiet victory of being seen—the kind that doesn’t need a trophy or a big speech, just a look across the couch and a shared bag of snacks and someone saying, “You’re coming too.”

Soobin hugged the pillow tighter to his chest. He didn’t say anything right away. Just let the feeling sink in—the one that made his chest ache in the nicest way. The one that said this was all real.

And in his head, looping like a secret, was the image of Y/N’s smile.

That look she gave him whenever she teased him.

He hadn’t even told her how he felt yet.

But he would.

God, he would.

And maybe, when he got there, and the sun was setting, and she was looking at him like that again—

Maybe he’d finally kiss her without a dog interrupting.

And if not?

Well.

At least he’d have his friends. His party. His chaos.

And a beach full of crabs, apparently.

Not bad, for a bunch of kids who used to watch from the sidelines.

Not bad at all.

prev | masterlist | next

profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: SURPRISE! updating twice this week! hope you guys like it and look foward to the next chapter! as always, let's chat, please tell me what do you guys think in the comments ( i do not think aquarius are dumb, i'm an aquarius moon and we are elite). ALSO what do you guys think it's gonna happen at this beach trip? hehe thank you so much again <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn @lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver@lveegsoi@pagesoobinie @catpjimin @t-102 @sh0dor1 @i-am-not-dal @bbeomgyucafe @damn-u-min-yoongi @https-yeonjun @booksxandxlace @kookssecret

#txt au #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #txt x female reader #txt smau #soobin smau #soobin x reader #soobin x you #txt fake texts #txt imagines #soobin imagines

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adeadcreator · 1 month ago

Text

Pt1 <-Pt.2

Giorno:

It was a rare moment, a moment where everyone seemed to be in complete peace. No useless rambling, no enemies to be seen; it was complete bliss.

Nothing but the muffling sounds of Abbacchio’s music, and of course the sound of a scribbling pencil. (Y/n) sat across from Giorno as she glanced up occasionally, capturing the way he held his teacup.

Of course Giorno noticed all the secretive glances, who wouldn’t, even those around her took a few glances of what she was drawing.

Though if they snickered or made a sly comment they were met with a snarky glare, an obnoxious sigh was heard as Narancia threw himself on to the table.

“What is it Narancia?” Bruno asked as he glanced up from his book, the black haired boy glanced to see who else was paying attention “I’m bored..”

“Well find something to do then” the dismissal of the black haired boy caused him to sigh once again before glancing at the (H/c) haired girl.

“Hey (Y/n), why don’t you draw Aerosmith? I bet it’ll look badass” the (H/c) haired girl glanced at the plane shaped stand “I don’t see why not, just let me finish this drawing..” she smiled gently at him before going back to her sketchbook.

Suddenly Aerosmith dove down, rustling the wind as it blew past the relaxed group. “Crap! Narancia, seriously!?” (Y/n) hissed as the pages of her sketchbook blew in the air, Despite herself and stand catching majority of them one seemed to escape her grasp.

Floating in the air before being caught by the blonde boy who placed his teacup down. His eyes seemed to glimmer with joy as he glanced up at (Y/n) “You have such a wonderful talent” he said as he handed her back the drawing of himself.

Jolyne:

“Okay now slightly move your arm to your left- OKAY STOP RIGHT THERE” You screamed as Jolyne held in her laughter, it was one of the many nights you had her pose.

Despite anyone who asked to be drawn she was the only one who could let you agree, she watched as you bobbed your head back and forth from her to the sketchbook in your hands.

It was a wonder if you were actually drawing her or just using her as a reference, she wasn’t quite sure. Especially since you never let her see the final product, with your famous line being ‘An artist should never show their muse their work’

Then again she could just chalk it up to you being embarrassed by your work “Has anyone seen Jol- Oh there you are, I was just looking for you. Anasui needs your help..”

Ermes emerged into the piano room, catching the duel haired girl's attention. Her oxy eyes glanced down at the paper as (Y/n) furiously sketched each and every fine detail.

“Holy crap! This really looks like a photograph!” Ermes said as she caught the interest of Jolyne “Wait really? Let me see!” She whined as she continued to stay in her pose.

“Ah, Ah, Ah, An Artist shou-“ Jolyne dramatically sighed “Yeah, Yeah never let the muse see, but come onnn…” Ermes snickered at her friend.

“Oh hold on, I got a great idea!” She said as she snapped her fingers, suddenly her stand appeared as it placed a sticker onto the sketchbook.

Startling and confusing (Y/n), though she quickly caught on as Ermes began showing Jolyne the drawing “Hey, Hey, Heyyy, you can’t do that?!?”

Despite her protest Jolyne held the paper in amazement “Holy crap (Y/n), you seriously need to make this your career when you get out!”

Johnny:

“You didn’t write the coordinates? How the hell do you not write it down?!” Johnny hisses at the insulted Italian blonde “Me? Why didn’t you write them down?” Johnny glared at his long haired companion before scoffing.

“Cause you said that you were gonna, now Diego is going to take the lead!” his frustration was nearing the boiling point until he caught a glimpse of you, a notepad in hand. Johnny was one to take notes on his little notebook, he assumed you were the same since whenever he glanced towards you, you already had a pencil in hand.

“(Y/n), do you have the coordinates..?” Johnny asked as he faced your direction, catching you off guard as you were currently busy with capturing his annoyed expression “I-Uh, what?” you questioned as you closed the book softly.

“Were you even paying attention?” Gyro asked, catching the annoyed expression from you “Which coordinates do you need? Because I’m pretty sure I have the ones for Gettysburg..” You muttered as you began flipping through the pages.

Despite the ease that settled in Johnny’s chest it was replaced with curiosity as he watched as you flipped the pages in chunks, skipping over a few pages and holding it in an angle. Gyro sighed annoyingly “There’s no time for this, give me the damn book!”

“HEY-You damn annoying Italian fuck..” murmering under your breath as Gyro skimmed through the pages, staying quiet as a shadow casted over his eyes. You could feel the judgement radiate off of him as Johnny attempted to glance at its contents, though it was soon revealed with a hearty laugh from Gyro.

“Will you shut your damn mouth, ain't nothing funny about this! FIND THE DAMN COORDINATIONS!?” You yelled as Gyro continued on with his teasing laughter, as you both began fighting you hadn’t realised the new set of hands that held your notepad.

A light blush emerged from his cheeks as he admired his portrait, the attention to detail was astounding, mind blowing if you will. A soft pang filled his heart as he flipped through the pages, seeing them all before meeting a familiar set of coordinates “I..I found them..”

Gappy:

Josuke leaned against the iron railing, staring off to the shoreline as birds flew by, it was as if he knew you were in need of some inspiration. Without any hesitation you pulled out your Ipad and stylus, caving into your need to capture the scenic moment.

With the sketch out of the way you had begun to do your line art, at least until Yasuho gasped as she caught a glimpse of your drawing, startling you for a moment, though it was quickly replaced with a soft smile “You really scared me there Yasu!”

She gave a small chuckle, waving her hand lightly “Sorry, sorry~, But seriously (Y/n) I didn’t know you could draw so well! Hey who knows, maybe you’ll become a manga artist!” she claimed as she took hold of your Ipad.

Not that you minded, after all she was one of your biggest supporters “Well I highly doubt that, especially since the only thing I seem to draw really well is…you know..” you mumbled the last bit as you glanced up to the unexpecting sailor suited boy.

She gave you a knowing look as you playfully rolled your eyes. “Well it’s not like I have the courage to show him, what if he thinks it's weird?” your question went right through the pink-haired girl as she playfully scoffed “Oh please (Y/n), I highly doubt it will.”

“What will weird me out?” Josuke asked as he tilted his head, you both jumped a bit from his sudden appearance. Your words seemed to begin to stumble out “Oh, I, Um, well. Yeah.” you smiled innocently as Yasuho held her laugh “We were just wondering if you had someone draw a portrait of you, would you feel weird about it?”

The sailor suit wearing boy rubbed his chin for a moment before shaking his head “No, I think it’ll be cool” Your most inner thoughts screamed in embarrassment as Yasuho glanced towards you before showing the array of drawings to Josuke, who after a few moments of confusion on how the device held them, light up with excitement.

“Wow, you even got my freckles and gap!”

#jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jolyne cujoh x reader #johnny joestar x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #gappy x reader #request are always open #jojo headcanons #jotaro x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #josuke x reader #joseph joestar x reader

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strnilolover · 6 months ago

Note

IK YOU HAVENT WROTE THE BLURB YET BUT 🌝

dumb!gf def steals matt's paper after the test because she blanked out the entire unit and dosent know anything 😭

the classroom was dead silent, save for the occasional scribble of pens on paper. matt leaned back in his chair, satisfied as he scribbled down the last answer on his test.

his eyes glanced over at you, seated at the desk next to him, expecting to see you furiously writing. instead, he was met with your wide-eyed, frozen expression, your pencil hovering uselessly over a blank test sheet.

uh-oh.

before he could ask what was wrong, you suddenly perked up, head turning to matt as you smiled shyly. “psst, babe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. he furrowed his brows, leaning forward in his chair as he leaned to the side closer to you, whispering back, “what?”

“i don’t know anything,” you hissed, clutching your test as though it might magically fill itself in. “i completely blanked on this unit!” you say, frowning slightly. matt sighed, glancing toward the teacher, who was busy at her desk, then back to you. “babe, we literally went over this all week. how did you forget it already?”

“yeah, well, apparently my brain didn’t get the memo!” you shot back, eyes darting nervously around the room. your head hurt, it was empty, the test jitters jumbling your brain to where you couldn’t even think of anything—you knew the answers before you started and now they were just gone.

before matt could respond, you leaned over, grabbing his completed test, and swapped it with your own in one swift, brazen move. his jaw dropping open quickly as a small gasp escaped his lips.

“what the—?!” he whisper-yelled, his voice strained with disbelief. “shh!” you shushed him, glancing at the teacher again. “just let me borrow it, okay? i’ll give it back in, like, five minutes.”

“five minutes?” matt hissed, leaning closer. “this isn’t some group project! you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

“relax,” you said with a nonchalant wave of your hand, eyes glued to his test as you started copying his answers as fast as you could. “i’m just borrowing your genius for a little while. you’ll thank me later when I’m not crying over a failed test.” you say, looking over your shoulder as you smiled.

matt groaned quietly, running a hand through his hair, but he couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips, keeping a wary eye on the teacher. “if we get caught, i’m blaming you.”

your head nodded as your pencil flew across the page. “noted,” you said cheerfully, completely unfazed. “now, keep watch, babe. i’ve got this.”

matt sighed again as he slouched in his seat, playing the reluctant lookout. “you owe me so much for this.” he mumbled. “oh, i know,” you replied with a wink, fully focused on his test. “maybe i’ll buy you snacks later.”

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ismyevilregal · 6 months ago

Text

Tethered Shadows

Warnings: I have no idea what I'm doing.

Chapter One: Quiet Collisions

The insistent buzzing of my alarm dragged me from a dream where I was flying—weightless and free—over a city bathed in an ethereal, otherworldly light. Disappointment, sharp and sudden, pierced through the grogginess. 7:00 AM. Another day, another grind. I slapped the snooze button, the insistent buzzing replaced by a gentler hum.

Five minutes later, the alarm shrieked again, more insistent this time. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. The scent of stale coffee and something vaguely metallic—the lingering odor of last night's takeout—assaulted my nostrils. Finally, I surrendered, throwing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was a cold, unforgiving slab against my bare feet.

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting thin stripes across the room. It wasn’t much—just a small studio apartment I’d been calling home for the past year—but it was mine. A safe little corner of the world. But at this particular moment, this studio apartment, once a source of pride and independence, now felt more like a prison cell. The peeling paint on the walls, the perpetually flickering fluorescent light above the kitchenette, the constant drone of traffic from the street below—it all seemed to conspire to dampen my spirits.

First, I stumbled toward the bathroom, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of colors. The mirror reflected a stranger—eyes bloodshot, hair a tangled mess, a faint shadow of a beard clinging to my jaw. I splashed cold water on my face, the shock momentarily invigorating.

Then I shuffled to the kitchen, bare feet padding against the cool floor. The coffee maker, a relic from a previous roommate, whirred to life as I poured water into the machine, the comforting hum filling the quiet. Something about the morning ritual was soothing, grounding me before the day's chaos. While waiting for the coffee to brew, I leaned against the counter, scrolling absentmindedly through my phone. A few unread messages from classmates about an upcoming group project. I made a mental note to respond later.

By 8:15, I was out the door, backpack slung over my shoulder and earbuds in, a playlist of lo-fi beats helping me navigate the crowded sidewalks. College was only a short bus ride away, and I used the time to skim over my notes for class. Balancing work, school, and what little social life I had was a juggling act, but I’d managed to make it work so far. Mostly.

My first lecture of the day was lively—a class on film theory that hooked me from the moment I walked in. The professor, an eccentric older woman with a penchant for dramatic hand gestures, paced the room as she deconstructed scenes from classic films. Today’s focus was on Hitchcock’s use of tension, and I found myself scribbling furiously in my notebook as she dissected a pivotal scene from Psycho. It was one of those rare moments where learning felt less like work and more like inspiration.

The grand entrance hall, usually filled with the hushed whispers of tourists, was eerily silent. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension hanging in the air. I spotted Greg near the entrance, his face pale and drawn.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Greg chuckled nervously. "Try surviving Professor Sharma's lectures. It's enough to make a grown man question his life choices."

After class, I grabbed a quick coffee and headed to my part-time job at the campus library. The familiar scent of old books greeted me as I walked in, and the quiet atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling campus outside. My shift was predictable: shelving books, assisting students who couldn’t figure out the catalog system, and occasionally sneaking a peek at my own assignments during the slower moments. I spent part of the afternoon helping a fellow film student locate obscure texts on 1970s cinematography, exchanging quick opinions about the underrated brilliance of The French Connection before returning to my duties.

It wasn’t glamorous, but I liked it. The library felt like a sanctuary, a place where time slowed down and the rest of the world melted away. Occasionally, I’d catch glimpses of students huddled over laptops, editing films for their projects, and it reminded me of why I loved what I did. Cinema wasn’t just a major—it was a lens through which I saw the world.

By the time my shift ended, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. I grabbed a quick bite at the cafeteria—a less-than-impressive turkey sandwich—before heading back to my apartment. The bus ride was quiet, the city lights flickering outside the window as I leaned my head against the cool glass. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished it out to see a text from Tara.

Tara: Hey, can you meet me at the diner around 6? I have someone I want you to meet.

Y/N: Someone?

Tara: Just trust me. You’ll like her.

Y/N: …Should I be worried?

Tara: Nope. Promise.

I stared at the screen for a moment, debating. Tara’s matchmaking efforts weren’t exactly a secret, but she’d never been this cryptic about it before. Still, I trusted her. If she thought it was worth my time, it probably was. Plus, it was a good reason to go out and relax a bit after a long day.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll be there.

The remainder of my evening before the meeting passed in a blur of small tasks: drafting ideas for a screenplay assignment, organizing my cluttered desk, and watching clips from a documentary on the rise of independent cinema in the 90s. By the time 5:30 rolled around, I was shrugging into a hoodie and heading back out the door, the crisp evening air waking me up a little more with each step.

The diner buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic plates. I wasn’t sure why Tara insisted on meeting here, but then again, Tara always had a way of picking the most unassuming places for moments she swore were important. The chipped laminate table beneath my fingertips felt oddly grounding, even as a sliver of unease twisted in my chest.

“She’ll be here soon,” Tara said, glancing at her phone. Her tone was casual, but her eyes gave her away. There was an eagerness, a spark that told me this was more than just another introduction. “She’s just…” Tara hesitated, searching for the right word. “She’s not great with people. Don’t take it personally.”

“Noted,” I replied with a small smile, though I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel. Curiosity? Anxiety? The mixture of both left my coffee cooling in its mug, untouched.

The bell above the door jingled, and Tara’s head snapped up. I followed her gaze, and that’s when I saw her. Sam Carpenter wasn’t what I expected, though I couldn’t have said what I had been expecting. I turned my head quickly to glare at Tara for a moment, but it didn't last long before my attention was back on her bigger sister again. Her presence was immediate, sharp-edged, and deliberate like she carried the weight of her own gravity. Dark hair framed a face that might have been soft once, but the years had hardened it into something unreadable. Her eyes were the kind that didn’t just look at you but through you, as if she were cataloging every detail.

She paused just inside the doorway, scanning the room with a wariness that felt almost instinctual. When her gaze landed on Tara, some of the tension eased, but only just. Sam crossed the diner in a few strides, her boots scuffing against the tiled floor.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice low and even, almost flat. She slid into the booth beside Tara, her movements economical, like she’d planned each one. For a moment, she didn’t even look at me, her attention fixed on her sister.

“Sam,” Tara said, her tone light and encouraging. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one I told you about.”

At last, Sam turned her head toward me, and I felt the full weight of her gaze. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but it wasn’t welcoming either. It was searching, measuring. The kind of look that made me want to shift in my seat but refuse to out of sheer principle.

“Hi,” I said, offering a small, non-threatening smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, her eyes flicked to Tara, then back to me. I guess she was just as confused as I was. “You too,” she said finally, though it sounded more like a formality than anything genuine.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. Tara, ever the fixer, jumped in to fill the void. “Sam just got back in town,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “It’s been… a lot, but she’s settling in. Right, Sam?”

Sam’s jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded. “Something like that.”

I didn’t miss the way her shoulders stiffened at the words. Whatever she’d come back from, it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about. The walls around her were practically visible, brick and mortar and steel, built to keep anyone from seeing too much. But it wasn’t my place to pry, not when I’d just met the woman.

“Well,” Tara said, leaning forward, “the two of you have a lot in common. I think you’ll get along great.”

Sam’s eyebrow arched slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe her sister. “Is that so?”

“Definitely,” Tara said, undeterred. “Just give it a chance.”

Sam’s gaze shifted back to me, and for a moment, there was something almost challenging in her eyes. “Guess we’ll see.”

It was then I realized just how much smaller I was next to her. Tara often joked about my height when she was feeling particularly mischievous, but we both knew we stood eye-to-eye. Sam, however, was a solid presence—a towering figure that only added to her intensity. The size difference was almost laughable, but I wasn’t about to let it shake me.

I wasn’t sure what Tara was trying to accomplish here, but one thing was clear: Sam Carpenter would be a puzzle. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to solve her or if she was better left a mystery. But before I could settle too much into my thoughts, Tara cleared her throat, bringing my focus back to the moment.

"So," she started, a little too enthusiastically, "what do you two think of… Hitchcock?"

The question felt forced, like Tara was trying to find the safest possible common ground to get the conversation rolling. My lips twitched into a smile, appreciating the effort, but I wasn't sure it would land.

"Hitchcock?" Sam asked, her tone flat. Her arms crossed as she leaned back against the booth. "Never really saw the appeal."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. Not because I couldn’t understand the opinion—plenty of people thought his style was overrated—but because the way she said it felt almost deliberately provocative, like she was daring me to disagree.

Tara winced. "Sam…"

"No, it’s fine," I said quickly, leaning forward. I could feel that challenge in her gaze again, and something in me itched to meet it. "I get it. Not everyone likes the classics. What’s your style, then?"

Sam’s brow furrowed, as if she hadn’t expected me to push back so easily. For a moment, she didn’t answer, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the table. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, less sharp. "I guess… I like stories that feel real. Messy. People making mistakes, doing stupid things… stuff that actually matters."

Her words hung in the air, heavier than I anticipated. Tara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and I wondered just how much of that statement was tied to Sam’s personal history.

"That’s fair," I said softly, not wanting to press too hard. "Sometimes the most compelling stories are the ones where you don’t know how they’ll end."

Sam’s gaze flicked to me again, and this time, there was a flicker of something in her expression. Not quite warmth, but maybe a hint of curiosity. "Yeah. Exactly."

Tara exhaled dramatically, breaking the tension. "Okay, great. We’re talking. Progress!"

I laughed, shaking my head at her antics. "Subtle, Tara. Real subtle."

"I try," she said with a wink. "Anyway, I’m gonna grab some pie. You two want anything?"

I shook my head, and Sam muttered a quiet "No," as Tara slid out of the booth and made her way to the counter. The silence she left behind felt different now, less heavy and more… expectant.

"So," I said after a moment, "what’s your story?"

Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were deciding whether or not to answer. "Not much to tell."

I raised an eyebrow. "Everyone’s got a story."

She huffed a quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Trust me, mine’s not the kind you’d want to hear."

For a second, I considered dropping it, letting her keep her walls intact. But something about her intrigued me and made me want to dig a little deeper. "Maybe. But how would I know unless you tell me?"

Sam studied me, her expression unreadable. Finally, she shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "I guess I’ll have to keep you guessing."

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small victory. A crack in the armor.

For a moment, the conversation settled into a quiet lull, the din of the diner filling the space between me and Sam. I tapped my fingers lightly against the table, debating whether to push further or let the moment breathe.

"You always this mysterious, or is it just part of the charm?" I asked, a teasing edge creeping into my voice.

Sam exhaled a short chuckle, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "I think it’s more of a defense mechanism than anything else."

I nodded, sensing the weight behind her words, but before I could respond, she glanced at me with something close to curiosity. "What about you?"

I tilted my head. "What about me?"

"You don’t seem like someone who gives up easily," she noted. "Why bother trying to figure me out?"

There was something almost challenging in her tone, like she was testing me. Maybe even daring me to step back. But instead, I met her gaze and shrugged.

"Guess I like a good puzzle."

Before she could reply, Tara reappeared, carefully setting the plate of pie between us both. "Mission accomplished," she declared, sliding back into her seat with a satisfied grin. "And I even got extra whipped cream."

She shot a look between the two of us, picking up on the shift in atmosphere. "Did I miss something?"

Sam reached for her fork, her expression once again guarded but softer than before. "Nothing important," she said, but the way her gaze flickered to me told a different story.

Tara arched a brow, clearly not convinced but choosing not to push. "Alright, well, I’m eating before either of you try and steal a bite."

I laughed, reaching for my own fork. "No promises."

As the three of us settled in, the conversation drifted into something lighter, but the undercurrent of that moment with Sam lingered—unspoken but present, like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

------

The next morning unfolded in slow motion, sunlight creeping in through the blinds like it had all the time in the world. But something was different. I felt lighter, more awake than I had any right to be. Maybe it was the residual warmth of last night—the easy conversation, the feeling that I had nudged a door open just a little.

A buzz from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. For a brief second, my pulse skipped—Sam? But no. Tara.

Tara: Morning! You survived my sister’s brooding. Congrats. Wanna grab coffee?

A grin tugged at my lips. Even through text, Tara’s energy was infectious.

Me: Morning. I’ll take that as a badge of honor. Where and when?

Her reply was quick—café, mid-morning. Just like that, the day had direction.

As I got ready, I caught my reflection in the mirror, my gaze lingering longer than usual. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just another day. But for the first time in a while, something about it felt... new. Like the start of something. And I wasn’t sure if that excited or terrified me more.

The café was quiet, the air thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the low hum of early risers buried in their screens. I stepped inside, the soft chime of the door marking my arrival. I ordered a coffee to go, restless energy thrumming beneath my skin. My mind kept circling back to last night—Sam, the weight of her silence, the push and pull I couldn’t quite decipher.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed Tara until she breezed in, her presence a sharp contrast to my uncertainty.

"Hey, look who actually showed up!" she called, grinning as she made her way over.

I laughed, the tightness in my chest easing. "Wouldn’t miss it."

Tara pulled me into one of her signature hugs—warm, slightly suffocating, but somehow exactly what I needed.

"You ready for coffee? Or are you still in the ‘don’t talk to me yet’ phase?" she teased, eyes gleaming.

I exhaled, the tension unraveling bit by bit. "I think I’m awake now."

We settled into a table by the window, the city stretching beyond the glass, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Tara had that effect—making even the most mundane moments feel like something worth being present for.

"So," she started, casual, but sharp. "How’s it feel surviving the Sam experience?"

I took a sip of my coffee, choosing my words carefully. "It’s... different. She’s complicated."

Tara smirked. "You don’t say. You’ve figured that out already? Impressive."

I hesitated before admitting, "I’m just trying to figure out where I stand with her. She’s got this wall up, but it doesn’t feel like she wants it there. I can’t tell if she’s just playing it cool or if she really doesn’t care."

Tara leaned back, tapping her fingers against her cup. "Sam doesn’t do anything unless it matters. She doesn’t waste her time. If she’s acknowledging you, that’s something." A flicker of something softer passed over her face. "She’s been through a lot. Letting people in isn’t easy for her. But if she’s letting you orbit, even a little? That’s progress."

I nodded, mulling over her words. "I just don’t know what she wants from me."

Tara’s grin widened. "Maybe she doesn’t know either. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to find out. Just... don’t let her push you away. She’s good at that."

The words settled deep. Sam was a puzzle I wasn’t sure I should be solving—but the curiosity wouldn’t let go.

"Thanks for the advice," I said, half-smiling. "Guess we’ll see where this goes."

Tara raised her cup in a mock toast. "That’s the fun part. The not knowing."

I sat there, watching the world move outside, feeling the quiet shift in the air. Sam, Tara, all of this—it was unfolding in ways I hadn’t expected. And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

Tara, ever perceptive, tilted her head, a sly glint in her eyes. "You should text her."

I blinked. "What? Now?"

"Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?"

A lot, I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

Instead, I unlocked my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Tara leaned in, smirking. "Be honest. Keep it simple. Something like, ‘Hey, I was thinking about our conversation yesterday. It was cool talking to you.’"

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. But she wasn’t wrong.

Hey, I was thinking about our conversation yesterday. It was cool talking to you.

Before I could second-guess it, I hit send.

Tara watched me, satisfaction written all over her face. "There. Easy, right?"

I let out a slow breath. "Not sure if easy is the word, but... it’s done."

She lifted her cup in a knowing gesture. "Now, we wait."

And so I did. Through the rest of our conversation, through the rest of the morning, through every casual check of my phone, heartbeat spiking each time it buzzed. But it was never her.

By the time I got home, the weight of the day had settled in my bones. I tossed my bag onto the couch, my phone still in my pocket, untouched. I told myself not to check it. Not to let it matter so much.

I busied myself with the little things—sorting through the scattered notes on my desk, flipping through a book I had no real intention of reading, absentmindedly scrolling through social media before locking my phone again. The air in my apartment felt heavier somehow, like I was waiting for something I refused to admit.

Eventually, I sprawled out on the couch, arm draped over my face, willing my mind to focus on anything else. It wasn’t working.

And then—

My phone buzzed.

I sat up too quickly, pulse hammering as I fumbled to grab it, screen lighting up in the dim room.

Sam: You too.

Just two words. But they unraveled something tight in my chest.

I stared at the message, reading it once, twice, three times, as if deciphering some hidden meaning within it. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And something was more than nothing. When it comes from Sam, as I'm learning, something is actually a lot.

A slow smile crept onto my face as I leaned back against the couch, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #tara carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #fem reader

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