#and while it was well written i can see why it wasn’t as popular as her other play

[tenthdoctxr]

!!

[callikari]

THE TUTOR —LEE HEESEUNG ᝰ.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS — being a broke college student meant doing whatever it took to survive, even if that meant lying your way into a tutoring gig you weren’t qualified for. when lee heeseung, campus golden boy and star athlete, mistook you for his assigned tutor, you saw an opportunity—he was willing to pay, and you needed the money. easy cash, right? except there was one problem: he was already acing the class. turns out, he just wanted an excuse to spend time with you. now, you’re stuck in a fake tutoring arrangement, trying (and failing) to convince yourself that his dumb little smirks and unnecessary close proximity aren’t affecting you.

PAIRING — lee heeseung x broke-college-student-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, yunjin & eunchae from le sserafim, wonyoung from ive)

GENRE(S) — written, college au, fake tutor au, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, comedy, and slight crack.

WARNING(S) — swearing, broke student struggles, scamming (for survival purposes), heeseung being an annoying flirt, your friends clowning you, lots of academic bullshitting, and mild secondhand embarrassment.

WORDCOUNT — 10k

you had no idea how you ended up in this situation. honestly, you were just a broke college student trying to make some extra cash by tutoring, and now you were stuck in a "mess" of a situation with lee heeseung—campus golden boy, star athlete, and the last person you thought you'd end up spending this much time with.

it all started in the library, where you had been buried under a mountain of textbooks and assignments. you were just minding your own business, trying to squeeze in as much studying as you could before the next exam, when heeseung walked up to you with a confused look on his face.

"hey, are you my tutor?" he asked, looking at you like you were the answer to his prayers.

you blinked. “your tutor?”

“yeah, you’re supposed to help me with my chemistry class, right?” he said, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper.

the paper had your name on it. assigned tutor.

you looked at him for a long second, unsure how to respond. in that moment, your brain made a split-second decision.

no, this wasn’t right. you weren’t his tutor.

but then again, you were broke. and he was paying.

so, instead of correcting him, you smiled and said, “yep. that’s me.”

heeseung grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “great! let’s get started, then.”

you immediately regretted your decision.

and so, here you were.

heeseung was the "last" person you expected to be in your tutoring group. you knew his type—popular, charismatic, and completely "unbothered" by anything that had to do with studying. you weren’t even sure how he managed to get into college in the first place with his terrible grades.

he sat down across from you, all smiles, like he didn’t have a care in the world. meanwhile, you were scrambling to figure out how to get him to actually pay attention to what you were saying. you’d barely gotten into your lesson before he started yawning.

“is this really necessary?” he asked, his tone light and lazy.

you glanced up, trying your best to suppress a frustrated sigh. “yes, heeseung. chemistry is a requirement for your major.”

he looked at you, completely unfazed. “i’m pretty sure i can just ask my tutor to give me the answers.”

you stared at him, blinking. “i *am* your tutor.”

he smirked. “well, then you’re not doing a very good job.”

you couldn’t help the way your eyebrow twitched at his words. why was this so difficult?

the more you tried to get him focused, the more distracted he became. you found yourself flipping through the textbook and pointing out formulas that made sense to you, while he sat back and played with his pen. his lack of attention was grating on your nerves, but you refused to let him see how annoyed you were.

“heeseung, focus. we need to finish this chapter today,” you said through clenched teeth.

he glanced up at you lazily, a playful grin forming on his lips. “you’re kind of cute when you’re serious.”

you froze. "what?" you couldn’t even process the words. sure, you knew he was a flirt, but hearing him say that made your heart skip a beat. you swallowed, trying to shake it off. this was heeseung, after all. you couldn’t let him get under your skin.

he leaned forward, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “i’ll try my best, tutor,” he teased, his voice dropping into a teasing tone.

you gave him a tight smile, trying to regain control of the situation. “let’s get to work.”

it was incredible how little heeseung actually knew about chemistry. each time you tried to explain a concept, he’d stare at you like you were speaking a foreign language. but it wasn’t just that—he was charming in the most infuriating way. his innocent questions and half-smiles made you question your focus. you had to admit, the guy was cute, and his charm was practically endless.

“so, like, what does this even do?” he asked, pointing to the periodic table in front of you.

you tried your best to stay professional, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “this is the atomic structure. see, each element has its own number of protons, neutrons, and electrons. you need to understand the structure in order to comprehend chemical reactions.”

heeseung nodded as if he understood, but the amused glint in his eyes told you otherwise. “right, right. so, can we just…skip this and get to the part where you help me ace the exam?” he asked, his grin wide.

“heeseung,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “we need to understand the basics first. there’s no way you’ll get through the exam without knowing this.”

he just tilted his head to the side, his hair falling perfectly around his face. “but you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

your eyes widened in disbelief, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “stop distracting me. focus on the material,” you snapped, though you could feel your face heating up despite your best efforts to remain composed.

it was a constant cycle of distractions, laughter, and trying to drag him back into the lesson. every time you thought you’d made progress, he’d throw you off course with a casual comment or a playful smirk. it felt like you were running in circles.

the more time you spent with heeseung, the more you started to notice things about him. little things. like how he’d always brush his hair out of his eyes when he was concentrating—well, pretending to concentrate, anyway. or how his smile could light up the entire room, even when he was clearly being a little brat.

it was a slow burn, but you were starting to realize that heeseung wasn’t just the charming golden boy you thought he was. yeah, he was annoying as hell, but there was something more beneath the surface. he was smart—really smart, when he put his mind to it. you’d seen it when he actually listened to what you were saying. it was frustrating, to say the least. here you were, trying to keep him focused, but at the same time, you were starting to feel a little… distracted yourself.

“okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture. “i think i’m getting it.”

“really?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “you understand how to balance chemical equations now?”

he shrugged. “more or less. but honestly, i think i’d understand better if you gave me some extra help.”

you crossed your arms, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “extra help?” you repeated, your voice a little too sarcastic for your liking.

he leaned forward again, a devilish grin curling on his lips. “yeah. like, you know, help outside of studying. maybe, we could—” he broke off when he saw the look on your face.

“no,” you said flatly.

“aww, come on,” he teased, his grin only widening. “what are you so afraid of?”

you felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed it down. “nothing. i’m not afraid of anything,” you muttered, turning your attention back to your notes.

he leaned back again, clearly entertained by your reaction. “you know, you’re not as tough as you think.”

you didn’t know if you should laugh or just throw something at him. instead, you went with a fake smile. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he just laughed. “hey, no need to be so harsh. i’m just trying to help.”

“you’re trying to distract me,” you shot back.

“well, it’s working.”

the next time you met with heeseung for tutoring, something felt different. maybe it was the way he greeted you, with a casual “hey, ready to teach me something new today?” or maybe it was the way his usual teasing seemed to have softened. whatever it was, it made you more aware of how much you were starting to look forward to these sessions.

“we’re going over reactions today,” you said, trying to focus. “this is where things get a little trickier, but you can handle it, right?”

heeseung flashed you a grin, already making himself comfortable in his chair. “i’m ready. as long as you’re not as serious as last time.”

you shot him a look. “i’m always serious.”

he winked at you, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “seriously, though, pay attention.”

he was paying attention—or at least, he was pretending to. as you began explaining the basics of chemical reactions, you noticed how he watched you. his usual playful glint in his eyes was still there, but there was something else now—something more sincere. heeseung wasn’t just here to mess around. he was actually trying, and it threw you off.

“so, what happens when—” you stopped mid-sentence, realizing he wasn’t just looking at you but listening.

“when an element reacts with another, the atoms rearrange to form a compound,” he finished for you.

you blinked, surprised. “wait. you actually got that right?”

heeseung leaned back, a smug look on his face. “of course. i’m not a total idiot, you know.”

“well, you’ve been acting like one lately,” you shot back, but even you could hear the hint of affection in your voice.

heeseung’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, the playful energy between you two seemed to fade. “guess I’m not as bad as you thought.”

you weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you focused back on your notes. “let’s just get through this, okay?”

heeseung’s grin returned, but now, there was a sense of warmth behind it. “yeah. we’ll make a great team.”

you weren’t sure why, but those words made your heart race.

the sessions with heeseung weren’t just about chemistry anymore. they were about you and him. the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much he liked to poke fun at you. but at the same time, he made you feel like you actually mattered. and god, that was frustrating. you were supposed to be the one in control here—not him.

so when he slid into the seat next to you one afternoon, throwing an arm across the back of your chair, you couldn’t help but feel a little too aware of him.

“ready to learn?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

you tried to act unaffected, but there was a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t ignore. “we’re not here to talk about my learning skills, heeseung,” you said coolly, flipping open your notes.

he leaned closer, his voice lowering in that teasing way that always seemed to get under your skin. “you know, if you weren’t so good at teaching, i’d probably just be failing by now.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you say that now, but you wouldn’t even be passing if you weren’t such a good student,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

heeseung chuckled, clearly unfazed. “oh, so you admit it? i’m actually a great student.”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “i think you like it when i flatter myself.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i think you’re insufferable.”

but even as you said it, you couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

the silence stretched for a moment, and for once, heeseung didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

you hated how that made your stomach twist.

“you really don’t like me, do you?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than usual.

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. sure, you hated his teasing and his constant jokes, but something about him made you want to keep going. to keep being with him.

“i don’t know,” you said slowly. “maybe i do. maybe i don’t. you’re a pain.”

heeseung’s grin softened, his eyes narrowing playfully. “i think you like me, just a little.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “don’t push your luck.”

he just laughed, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under your skin. “okay, okay. but i know i’m not as bad as you make me out to be.”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. because deep down, you knew he was right.

the next few days passed by in a blur, with your study sessions becoming more frequent. heeseung had somehow turned into someone you could tolerate way more than you were comfortable admitting. and yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him completely. not in the way he seemed to want you to.

you were walking through the campus courtyard, lost in your own thoughts when you spotted him across the yard, laughing with a group of people. heeseung was a natural when it came to making friends, effortlessly charismatic and always in the center of attention. you hated how much that bothered you. it wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. it was just the fact that you hated how easy it came to him.

as you walked past, you caught his eye, and his expression immediately shifted. he excused himself from his friends and jogged over to you, that cocky grin on his face.

“you’re staring at me again,” he teased, his tone light, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

you blinked, startled. “i was not.”

he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “you were definitely staring at me.”

you cursed inwardly. of course he noticed. “i wasn’t staring. i was just—” you stopped, realizing you had no excuse.

“it’s fine,” he said, a smug look appearing on his face. “i kind of like it when you stare. makes me feel special.”

you shot him a look, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “don’t get ahead of yourself, heeseung. i was not staring. i just… got distracted. okay?”

heeseung just laughed, a low chuckle that sent a strange warmth flooding your chest. “sure, sure. whatever you say.”

you started walking again, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating a little faster. “i have to get to class,” you muttered, already feeling the awkwardness creeping in.

“i’ll walk with you,” he said, falling into step beside you without waiting for an answer. “might as well since i’m already here.”

“you really don’t take a hint, do you?” you teased, but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

heeseung shrugged casually. “nah, not really. i like to make my own rules.”

“clearly,” you muttered under your breath, still not used to how confident he was. it wasn’t just his charisma—it was the way he seemed so sure of himself around you. it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you had no idea how to handle it.

the walk to class was filled with small talk. lighthearted banter, the kind of stuff that made the air between you two feel almost normal—if you could call it that. normal, until he dropped the bombshell.

“so, do you ever think about… us?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, a little more serious than usual.

you stopped in your tracks, your heart racing. “what do you mean?”

heeseung turned to face you, his gaze softening. “i mean… do you think we’re getting along better now?”

you blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “i guess? i don’t know. it’s… weird.”

“yeah, i get it. it’s weird for me too,” he admitted, looking down for a moment. then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he added, “but i’m kinda enjoying it.”

you frowned. “enjoying what? our bickering?”

heeseung smirked. “well, yeah. i mean, it’s fun, isn’t it? but… i also like the times when we don’t fight. when it’s just us, talking.”

you were quiet for a moment, your mind racing. could it be? could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

“heeseung, you’re impossible,” you muttered, though your heart was beating faster now. maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

heeseung stepped closer, that signature cocky grin back on his face. “maybe, but you still like me.”

the following week, your study sessions with heeseung took a sudden turn. instead of the usual quiet library dates, he started dragging you around campus, making you go to random spots to “study.” sometimes it was by the fountain, sometimes near the campus cafe, and once, he even convinced you to sit in the middle of the quad in the grass—in the middle of the day, no less.

“are you sure this is productive?” you asked skeptically, looking around at all the students walking by. the noise was borderline unbearable.

heeseung, however, seemed completely unbothered. he had his headphones in, typing away on his phone, clearly in his own world. “the point of studying is being comfortable. if you’re uncomfortable, you won’t focus. so relax.”

you sighed, dropping your bag onto the grass beside you and following his lead. you hadn’t expected him to turn into this “study guru” who somehow knew all the right ways to study. but maybe it worked. you couldn’t deny that it made you focus better.

“okay, so what are we even doing?” you asked, still unsure how you were supposed to study in the middle of a bustling campus.

heeseung smirked, pulling out a notebook. “well, i figured you could help me with my notes. i’m clearly struggling,” he said with mock sincerity, even though he knew you were the one who had been tutoring him.

you gave him a deadpan look. “struggling, huh? sure. if you say so.”

heeseung flipped the notebook open to a page full of notes and highlighted passages. “help me go over this. i need to make sure i don’t bomb the next quiz.”

as you went over the material with him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was more… attentive than usual. it wasn’t just that he was asking you to explain things. he was genuinely trying to understand. and for once, you weren’t frustrated with him. you found yourself getting lost in the work and even… enjoying the way he listened intently, his focus entirely on what you were saying.

but just as you were getting comfortable, your friend group walked by, and of course, they had to notice you and heeseung sitting together.

“oh, look at this,” yujin teased, clearly amused. “the two study buddies are actually… studying?”

“what are you doing here?” you groaned, trying to hide the slight flush creeping up your neck.

“we’re just passing by,” wonyoung said innocently, but the smirk on her face betrayed her true intentions. she was way too into the idea of you and heeseung spending time together.

“don’t act like you weren’t just checking on us,” heeseung added, eyes twinkling. “you know, we’re not that interesting.”

“oh, we know,” yujin said with a wink. “we just came to make sure you weren’t actually getting along. because we all know you two are at each other’s throats most of the time.”

you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “please, not you guys too.”

wonyoung sat down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “sooo, tell me, how’s the heeseung tutoring going?” she grinned at you, clearly enjoying the chaos she was about to cause.

you shot her a glare. “heeseung is actually doing fine. for once.” you shot him a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t about to do something dumb.

heeseung, however, seemed unfazed. “yeah, i think i’m doing great. i’m just… naturally brilliant,” he said, giving you a mischievous look.

yujin laughed. “oh, right. naturally brilliant. that’s why you needed help in the first place.”

“you’re one to talk, yujin,” you shot back. “how’s your chemistry grade going, huh?”

wonyoung gave a dramatic gasp. “oh no, not the chemistry card,” she said, making a show of clutching her chest. “you didn’t just do that.”

heeseung grinned. “looks like i’m not the only one who’s got an ego problem.”

you rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but laugh along with them. there was something about being surrounded by your friends, even if they were shamelessly teasing you, that felt… nice.

it wasn’t long before the teasing died down, and your friends eventually decided to go grab some lunch. but before they left, wonyoung gave you a knowing smile. “we’ll leave you two alone. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!”

“what?” you exclaimed, almost choking on your own laughter.

yujin threw a wink in your direction. “you know exactly what we mean.”

once they were gone, heeseung looked at you with an unreadable expression. “well, that was… something.”

you blinked, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the first time you felt like it was just the two of you—no teasing, no interruptions. just… him.

“yeah, it was,” you said, clearing your throat. “but, uh, we’re still studying. right?”

heeseung nodded, his usual smirk returning. “yeah, yeah. but… maybe later, we can have a proper study date.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel the need to push him away. maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like this whole study partnership.

the next day, heeseung texted you a little earlier than usual. it wasn’t a huge surprise—he had developed a habit of doing that, whether it was to talk about studying or to joke around. but this time, the message was different.

heeseung: “hey, i was thinking about how much you need a study break. how about we grab lunch later?”

you: “seriously? i’m not a workaholic like you. i do know how to take breaks.”

heeseung: “i beg to differ. you’ve been glued to those books for hours. i can’t let that happen. lunch at 12?”

you stared at the message for a second. it was true that you’d been spending a little too much time with your nose buried in textbooks, but you hadn’t realized anyone was paying attention to it. you thought for a moment, then typed a response.

you: “fine. you win. lunch it is.”

at lunch, the campus was bustling with students, and as usual, heeseung had picked the most random spot to meet up: the food court. it was packed with people from different clubs and groups, but you didn’t mind it. somehow, even in the chaos, you felt like it was just the two of you. heeseung sat across from you, grinning from ear to ear.

“so, what’s on your mind today?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “don’t act like you’re not just using this lunch break to drag me away from studying.”

he chuckled. “okay, okay. maybe i am. but it’s for your own good.”

before you could respond, your friends walked by—yujin, wonyoung, and hong eunchae, all heading toward the smoothie stand.

“oh, look at that,” yujin said loudly. “the lovebirds are having lunch.”

“yujin, shut up,” you groaned, sinking into your seat in embarrassment. “why do you guys always have to tease?”

“it’s fun,” wonyoung said, winking at you both. “you two are adorable. i’m just waiting for the day when you admit you like each other.”

you shot wonyoung a look. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, but even you could hear the slight hesitation in your voice.

heeseung, ever the tease, smirked. “oh? but wouldn’t it be interesting if it was like that?”

your friends took a seat at the table next to yours, but the teasing didn’t stop there. eunchae chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “oh my god, it’s so obvious. look at the way you two look at each other.”

you groaned and hid your face in your hands, while heeseung, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying this attention.

“we’re literally just studying partners,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady.

“uh huh, sure,” wonyoung said, not believing you for a second. “you’re totally just ‘study buddies.’”

heeseung laughed, nudging you playfully. “what, do you think we’re some sort of study machine? we’ve got to eat sometime, you know.”

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you said, trying your best to ignore your blushing cheeks. “it’s not like we have feelings for each other.”

yujin shot you a teasing glance. “whatever you say, y/n. we’ll see about that.”

as the conversation continued, you tried to focus on your lunch, but you couldn’t help feeling a little flustered. your friends were relentless, and you couldn’t escape their teasing. at some point, heeseung nudged you again, this time a little more seriously.

“don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, his voice soft.

you looked up at him in surprise. “what?”

“i can see how uncomfortable you are. don’t let them mess with your head. we’re just friends. study partners,” he emphasized the words with a wink, making you laugh.

“right,” you said, finally feeling a little better. maybe heeseung wasn’t just teasing. maybe, he actually understood how awkward this whole thing was.

just then, yujin raised her eyebrows. “wait, wait. friends? no, no, no. you two have definitely been spending a little too much time together for it to be just that.”

you sighed and rolled your eyes. “can you all just stop?”

eunchae, still grinning, leaned in a little too close. “oh, but y/n, we can’t. you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen. all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.”

you almost choked on your food, while heeseung, to his credit, just grinned. “you know what they say, though. you can’t fight chemistry.”

“heeseung, shut up,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

the rest of the lunch went on with the teasing, but by the end of it, you couldn’t deny that you were starting to enjoy it. the teasing wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. if anything, it was starting to feel… normal. maybe you were beginning to feel more comfortable with heeseung than you thought.

as you all headed back to campus, you couldn’t shake off the idea of what your friends had said. maybe they were right. maybe there was something more going on between you and heeseung than just studying. but that thought left you with one burning question:

did he feel the same?

after lunch, you tried to shake off your friends’ words, but their teasing lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit.

you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen.

all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.

they were just messing with you… right? there was nothing going on between you and heeseung. sure, he had become one of the people you spent the most time with lately, but that didn’t mean anything. it was just studying. and occasional banter. and… him noticing when you needed a break.

ugh. this was so annoying.

before you could spiral further, your phone buzzed with a text.

heeseung: “you free later? study session part 12938?”

you rolled your eyes but smiled.

you: “more like part 20. but yeah, sure.”

heeseung: “great. library, usual spot. i’ll bring snacks. you bring your brain.”

you: “you make it sound like i don’t have one.”

heeseung: “well, you keep denying your obvious crush on me, so i’m starting to wonder.”

you: “EXCUSE ME?”

heeseung: “relax, i’m kidding. unless…?”

you: “don’t even start.”

heeseung: “lmao, see you later, study buddy.”

you groaned, flopping onto your bed. why did he always have to tease you like that? and why did it get under your skin so much?

later that evening, you met heeseung at the library, as planned. as soon as you sat down, he slid a chocolate bar across the table toward you.

“peace offering,” he said with a smirk.

you eyed him suspiciously but unwrapped it anyway. “what are you apologizing for?”

“for making you flustered earlier,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook.

you nearly choked on your chocolate. “i was not flustered.”

he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you glared at him but decided to drop it. you were not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you react. instead, you focused on studying.

for the next hour, you two actually managed to get some work done—well, mostly.

“y/n, you’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes,” heeseung said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

you blinked. “huh?”

“see? you’re totally distracted. are you thinking about something?” he teased, resting his chin on his hand.

“no,” you said quickly, flipping the page for dramatic effect. “just… taking in the information.”

he smirked. “taking in information or taking in me?”

“heeseung, i swear—”

before you could finish, a voice interrupted.

“oh? is this a date or a study session?”

you turned to see sunghoon and jake standing nearby, both of them looking way too amused.

“neither,” you said flatly. “why are you guys even here?”

“because watching you two is peak entertainment,” jake said, plopping down next to you. “heeseung told us you’d be here, so we figured we’d stop by.”

“of course he did,” you muttered, shooting a glare at heeseung, who only grinned in response.

“so, when’s the wedding?” sunghoon asked, completely serious.

“i hate all of you,” you said, covering your face with your hands.

heeseung chuckled. “c’mon, guys, don’t scare y/n off. they still have to help me pass this class.”

“ah, right,” jake said, nodding. “but after that, you’ll confess, yeah?”

you gaped at him. “why would you assume that?”

sunghoon smirked. “because it’s obvious.”

you groaned. “can we please just study?”

heeseung leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “aw, do i make you nervous?”

you shot him a look. “you wish.”

but the truth was… maybe he did. just a little. and you weren’t sure what to do about that.

for the next few days, you did your best to ignore the way heeseung had somehow weaseled his way into your daily routine. between studying, running into him on campus, and your friends’ constant teasing, it was like the universe was forcing you to acknowledge… whatever this was.

but you weren’t giving in. absolutely not.

until one night, when everything changed.

you were sitting outside your dorm building, scrolling through your phone and attempting to unwind from a long day, when heeseung plopped down next to you, startling you.

“what the hell—”

“hey,” he said, completely unfazed by your reaction. “what are you doing out here alone?”

“thinking about how much better my life would be if you stopped showing up everywhere i go,” you deadpanned.

heeseung clutched his chest dramatically. “ouch. and here i was, about to offer you a ride to the late-night diner.”

you paused. “…there’s a late-night diner?”

he smirked. “yes. and i know you haven’t eaten because i know your study habits by now.”

you rolled your eyes. “so what, you’re my personal meal tracker now?”

he stood up, holding out a hand. “just shut up and come with me.”

against your better judgment, you took his hand.

the diner was small, dimly lit, and surprisingly cozy. the kind of place you could see yourself spending hours in without realizing it. heeseung led you to a booth and, without asking, ordered milkshakes for both of you.

“what if i didn’t want a milkshake?” you challenged.

“please, you love milkshakes,” he shot back.

you narrowed your eyes. “…how do you know that?”

he shrugged. “i pay attention.”

you hated the way your stomach flipped at that.

as the night went on, you found yourself forgetting about your usual arguments. talking with heeseung felt easy—annoying at times, but effortless. he told you stories about his childhood, his dumbest mistakes, and his dreams of doing something meaningful after graduation. you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

and then, as you were finishing your milkshake, he looked at you and said, “y’know, i like this.”

“like what?”

“hanging out with you. without all the arguing.”

you blinked. “you like hanging out with me?”

heeseung scoffed. “wow, don’t look so surprised. i do have a heart.”

“questionable,” you muttered, though you felt your face heat up.

he grinned. “but seriously. this is nice.”

you hesitated before nodding. “…yeah. it is.”

there was a beat of silence. then, because you apparently hated peace, you blurted, “but you’re still annoying.”

heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “god, you’re impossible.”

but he didn’t let go of the straw he had been absentmindedly playing with. and neither did you.

you didn’t know what was more shocking: the fact that you willingly spent an entire night with heeseung without plotting his downfall, or the fact that you actually enjoyed it.

either way, you refused to dwell on it.

the next morning, you convinced yourself it was just the exhaustion talking. a momentary lapse in judgment. surely, once you saw him again, he’d go right back to being the most irritating person on campus.

except… he didn’t.

instead, you found yourself sitting next to him in class, sharing your notes like it was the most natural thing in the world. instead of snide remarks, he shot you small, amused glances when you got frustrated over an assignment. instead of ignoring each other in the library, he casually placed an extra coffee next to your laptop, muttering, “you looked half-dead, figured you needed this.”

and instead of feeling annoyed, you felt… something else. something dangerous.

“you’ve been real quiet lately,” jay commented as he sat across from you in the student lounge.

you blinked up at him. “what?”

“you and heeseung. where’s all the fighting? the dramatic, public arguments? i feel like i’m watching the downfall of an iconic rivalry.”

you scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous. we still argue.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “really? because from what i’ve seen, you guys are, like… flirting now.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “excuse me? flirting?”

“yeah. all the ‘oh my god, you’re so annoying’ and ‘ugh, i hate you’ shit?” jay smirked. “that’s flirting.”

“fuck off,” you muttered, kicking his shin under the table.

jay yelped, but his grin didn’t waver. “hey, i’m just saying—if you ever need a best man at the wedding, i’m available.”

“i’m going to kill you.”

“damn, first-degree murder? sounds like love to me.”

before you could launch a full-blown attack, your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen. heeseung.

heeseung [1:07 PM]: library in 10? i found something that might help with your paper

you stared at the message a little too long.

jay leaned over, reading it before you could stop him. “oh my god.”

“shut up,” you snapped, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the floor.

jay watched you with an infuriatingly smug expression. “you’re so fucked.”

you flipped him off before walking away.

the library was quiet when you arrived, but you spotted heeseung immediately. he was leaning back in his chair, one hand flipping through a book, the other twirling a pen between his fingers.

you hesitated before walking over. “hey.”

he glanced up, smiling slightly. “you’re late.”

“by two minutes.”

“yeah. unacceptable.”

you rolled your eyes, plopping into the chair across from him. “you said you found something for my paper?”

he slid a book toward you. “this has a whole section on your topic. figured it might save you some time.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re being suspiciously helpful.”

“don’t get used to it,” he teased. “i like seeing you suffer, but i love proving that i’m smarter than you.”

“asshole,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

heeseung just grinned.

and maybe jay was right. maybe you were so fucked.

if someone had told you six months ago that you’d willingly spend your free time with lee heeseung, you would’ve laughed in their face. maybe even fought them. but now? now you were waiting for him outside the library, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while he finished up an assignment.

this was getting out of hand.

"hey.”

you looked up to see heeseung walking toward you, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“took you long enough,” you muttered, shoving your phone into your pocket.

“relax, i was being productive,” he said, smirking. “you should try it sometime.”

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you scoffed, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at his words.

heeseung fell into step beside you as you both started heading toward the dining hall. this was becoming a weird habit—getting food together, studying together, exchanging notes without bickering. it was normal. and that was the problem.

you had no idea when the rivalry had started to feel less like a battle and more like an excuse to talk to him.

you shook the thought away.

“you’re spacing out,” heeseung said, nudging your shoulder.

you shot him a glare. “am not.”

“are too.”

“i hate you.”

heeseung grinned. “no, you don’t.”

before you could argue, a voice called out.

“ohhh, what’s this?”

you both turned to see sunghoon, jake, and jungwon standing a few feet away, watching with matching expressions of mischief.

jake gasped dramatically. “is this civil conversation i’m witnessing?”

“no way,” jungwon added. “they’re walking together without trying to kill each other.”

sunghoon grinned. “i knew all that tension wasn’t just hatred.”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “you guys are so fucking annoying.”

heeseung just sighed. “let’s go before they start a conspiracy theory.”

but it was too late, jake had already pulled out his phone.

“this is groundbreaking,” he said, pretending to type. “i need to update the gc.”

you groaned. “jake, i swear to god—”

heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased. “you guys need a hobby.”

“this is our hobby,” jungwon said smugly.

“oh, absolutely,” sunghoon agreed. “we live for drama.”

you shot heeseung a look, but he just sighed and grabbed your wrist. “come on.”

you barely had time to process the sudden contact before he was tugging you away, leaving the three of them cackling behind you.

he didn’t let go until you reached the dining hall.

you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where he’d touched you. “well. that was mortifying.”

“they’re insufferable,” heeseung muttered.

“and yet, they have a point.”

he glanced at you. “which is?”

you hesitated. were you really about to bring this up?

fuck it.

“this whole thing,” you said, gesturing vaguely between you two. “it’s not… normal.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow. “what, us not wanting to kill each other?”

“yes! i mean—no! i mean…” you exhaled sharply. “don’t you think it’s weird? one minute we’re at each other’s throats, and now we’re just—”

“friends?” he offered.

your stomach twisted. you didn’t like that word. not because it wasn’t true, but because it didn’t feel like the whole truth.

“sure,” you said weakly. “friends.”

heeseung studied you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression.

then he said, “well, that’s boring.”

you blinked. “what?”

“friends?” he repeated, tilting his head. “that’s so underwhelming.”

your heart stuttered. “what—what do you mean?”

heeseung smirked. “i mean, we could be so much more interesting than that.”

you stared at him. your brain was short-circuiting.

he took a step closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. “unless… you’re scared?”

your breath hitched. “scared?”

heeseung leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “of what this could be.”

your brain stalled.

“scared?” you echoed. “of what this could be?”

heeseung just looked at you, waiting.

you let out a breathless laugh. “oh, please. do you even hear yourself?”

“perfectly,” he said, still smirking.

“you’re joking.”

“am i?”

you crossed your arms. “yes. obviously.”

heeseung tilted his head, like he was considering something. “huh.”

“what?”

“nothing. just… i didn’t think you’d be so dense.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he shrugged. “i thought it was pretty obvious. i like you.”

your stomach flipped. your heart flipped. but your brain? your brain was malfunctioning.

you narrowed your eyes. “okay, very funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

“yes, you are.”

heeseung sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “why would i joke about this?”

“because this is what we do!” you gestured between you. “we mess with each other, we push each other’s buttons—this is just another game to you.”

heeseung exhaled sharply. “jesus, you really don’t get it.”

you frowned. “what is there to get?”

he gave you a look. “the fact that i genuinely like you, dumbass.”

your breath caught in your throat.

heeseung shook his head, almost frustrated. “do you think i’d just say this for fun? you piss me off like no one else, but you’re also the only person i actually want to be around. figure that out.”

you stared at him.

heeseung liked you. like, for real. like, not as a joke.

and you… you had spent the past five minutes laughing in his face.

fuck.

you were malfunctioning. actually, no—you were buffering. like a shitty internet connection that couldn’t load the page properly.

heeseung liked you. and instead of responding like a normal person, you had laughed in his face.

“heeseung,” you started, trying to find something to say. “i—”

“forget it.”

your stomach dropped. “wait, what?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand down his face. “look, if you don’t feel the same way, just say it. but don’t act like i’m joking just because you don’t want to deal with it.”

your throat went dry. “that’s not—”

“then what is it?”

he sounded tired. like he had finally run out of patience.

and it hit you, all at once.

you had spent so much time convincing yourself that this thing between you two was just rivalry—just banter and competition and winning—that you had completely ignored everything else.

how your heart always raced around him. how you always looked for him in a crowded room. how his approval meant way too much, how his insults stung just a little more, how he made you feel alive in a way no one else did.

you had been so sure that he was messing with you. because the alternative? the idea that he meant it? that was terrifying.

but now…

now you could see the way his shoulders were tense, like he was bracing himself. the way his hands were curled into fists, like he was trying to hold something in.

he wasn’t playing around.

he never was.

“heeseung,” you said, voice quieter now.

he didn’t say anything.

you took a step closer. “i’m sorry.”

his jaw tightened. “for what?”

“for acting like an idiot,” you admitted. “and for not realizing sooner.”

his eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “realizing what?”

you swallowed. “that i like you too.”

the words felt big. heavier than you expected. but at the same time, saying them felt like a weight lifting—like something settling into place.

heeseung blinked. his whole body went still.

then he exhaled a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “you are so fucking annoying.”

you rolled your eyes. “jesus, thank you, i was really hoping for that to be your first response—”

before you could finish, heeseung grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, crashing his lips against yours.

it took you half a second to catch up, but once you did, you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hoodie.

heeseung smiled against your lips. “took you long enough.”

you huffed. “shut up.”

he hummed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “make me.”

AUTHORS NOTE: wait i lowkey hate this IM SORRY IF ITS BAD

© callikari -- all rights reserved

[pshcomforts]

➳ cardigan | psh.

popularhighschool!sunghoon x loserfem!reader

“you drew stars around my scars, but now i’m bleeding”

synopsis: sunghoon caught you at a bad time.., or better to say, at a late time when he rushed and yet found you injured from a few bullies.

warnings/content: written in third pov. reader’s a little grumpy and closed off. angsty. mentions of blood. reader gets beaten up.. this is cliche, i won’t lie..! cursing. not proofread.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend). honestly inspired by that one scene in revenge of others!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: cardigan by taylor swift

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

2:12 ────────────|─────── -1:47

y/n quickly thanked the cashier before speeding out of the convenience store. it was dark, scary, and the girl was alone so of course she was trying to hurry home.

she was halfway through her walk, texting her friends when a figure had stopped in front of her.

she glanced up and found a classmate with a wide grin plastered across her face.

“hey y/n,” she sweetly called in a fake tone. “i’m surprised to see you here.”

y/n’s face morphed into disgust as she pushed her aside. “what do you want?” she asked, allowing the girl to murmur — “leaving so soon?”

“don’t you want to stay and talk?” a different voice bellowed from her right. another classmate who was friends with the other appeared from the dark shadows.

a mischievous grin was shown on her face as a few more began to pop up.

y/n sighed, biting her lips as she remained composed from what was about to happen.

“i want to get home, so get out of my way.”

she attempted to leave the scene, but was pulled back by a hair grab from one of the girls.

“you think you can just flirt with sunghoon and get away with it??” y/n heard the first girl who stopped her scowl.

it finally clicked for her as to why these girls began to bother her.

it was just earlier today when she had gone to the canteen to find her friends, and soon spotted them with their partners.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

“hey guys!” she beamed at her group of friends.

“hey y/n!” they yelled back in the same, excited tone.

y/n quickly sat down in the open seat as she greeted her friends’ significant others as well — jake, heeseung, and jungwon.

“hey baby, sunghoon’s right there, we’re gonna go okay?” min-su’s boyfriend announced, causing the members to get up and leave to where sunghoon was, which was at a group of table where the popular students normally were.

y/n felt her heart tighten at the sudden name. memories flooding back from the boy she put all her trust in and broke it. they used to be friends, but once his popularity grew, so did their distance.

so as she kept her gaze down, ji-woo huffed out a quiet sigh while looking at dae and min-su.

there was nothing her friends could do to mend her and sunghoon’s relationship together. though the two had their friends dating each other, there was a clear line that they never crossed in terms of being okay again.

✩ ‘but i knew you’ ✩

when she didn’t bother to look anywhere but her feet, she didn’t realize that sunghoon unknowingly laid his eyes on her.

any time he tried to look elsewhere, they’d still land on her without a thought. his heart burned that he wasn’t near her like he used to be.

even when one of the girls at his table, the one who approached y/n, tried to get his attention, he’d just let it run by his ears — not caring if it looked rude.

he just wanted the girl he’s always loved in his life again, even if it meant losing his popularity.

“y/n..?” dae called out to her, allowing the girl to turn towards him. “want to head to a class instead?”

her heart softened once she realized how considerate her friends were in recognizing the awkward distance between her and sunghoon.

“i’d like that…,” she murmured back.

the four rose from their seats but y/n held herself back, announcing that she’d meet them near the door after tossing her lunch away.

as she did so, she was forced to walk by the group of kids who deemed themselves as popular — in which including sunghoon, and a few other enhypen members.

she sighed, pushing herself to get used to the uncomfortable energy as she sped to the trash bins.

when she finished her task, she walked toward her group of friends, rushing through a few crowds when a familiar student had accidentally bumped into her.

the bump was harsh enough that she almost stumbled down onto the ground, but she quickly stopped herself to avoid the possible embarrassment.

“sorry!” y/n yelled. “are you okay??”

she glanced up and found the boy she’s been avoiding in front of her.

sunghoon took a noticeably large gulp as he towered over her, hands still firmly holding onto her forearm so she wouldn’t fall.

her heart instantly dropped with how close she was to him, hating that he was in front of her again. she blinked her eyes before pulling her arm back to lose his grip.

“sorry..,” she mumbled, turning away before she could get a reaction out of him.

y/n mentally cursed in her head as she ran off to her friends who watched the whole thing happen from afar, not wanting to hear from the boy who abandoned her.

but from what she didn’t know was that sunghoon kept his attention on her even after she left the scene, body frozen and gaze locked from where she stood.

he couldn’t comprehend the fact that she spoke to him again. his heart was fluttering from her very minimal yet repeated words in his mind.

“sunghoon?” the girl who approached y/n asked. “what’s wrong?”

she attempted to link her hands with his but he slipped out of it.

“we’re not together, don’t do that.” he coldly replied, returning back to his seat next to jungwon.

she fumed out a few curse words under her breath as her cheeks heated out of embarrassment.

she was determined to make sure y/n knew her place after having an encounter with her crush.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

y/n yanked herself out of the harsh grip on her hair, shoving the hand away as she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“it was just a bump. you can have sunghoon all you want, i don’t want him.”

lies, but she wasn’t about to admit that in front of those group of girls.

“please.., you bumped into him on purpose didn’t you?” one of them uttered, scoffing in disbelief, causing y/n to scoff as well.

“now why would i do that? i don’t want to get close with him.” she rolled her eyes. “does he not give you enough attention for you to claim this or something?”

the proclaimed leader guffawed out a laugh, truthfully a little choked out at the remark y/n made but was still unfazed.

“your feisty attitude won’t win him over.”

“your bratty attitude won’t win him over either,” y/n snapped back. “i don’t even want him. he doesn’t pique my interest.”

lies again.

as she tried to walk out of the threatening circle, one of the girls pulled her back into it.

“you don’t think you can just walk away that easily, do you?” the leaders lips evilly curled afterward.

y/n rolled her eyes, exasperating a sigh since she couldn’t believe she was getting dragged into this situation for no reason.

“with your friends gone, guess you have no one to protect you, hm?”

a hand finally flew towards y/n, indicating that the long awaited fight had begun.

the girl fought back in the best she could, throwing hands and slamming heavy backpacks against each body to protect herself.

she did well for a second, victory almost in her hands but the amount of people against her was outweighed and she unfortunately lost.

in seconds, the girls who had bruised marks from y/n regained themselves and threw her to the ground.

they each took a beating, causing y/n to feel the constant hits that were purposefully harsh.

once the leader deemed it was enough for a lesson, she kneeled down to the girl’s eye level, forcing a hand on her chin.

“talk to sunghoon again and it’ll be worse.”

the girls hurriedly ran off, a few still aching from what y/n was able to do as she was left alone.

she heavily sighed, air almost being kicked out of her lungs when she found it hard to breathe. she was finally able to stand after a few gasps, clothes rustled and hair messy from the beatings.

“fuck..,” her weak voice mumbled, lips trembling as she clenched onto her chest. “that fucking hurts.”

y/n slowly dusted herself off, body almost falling limp when her phone began to ring. she checked it, finding her friends ringing her in for a call but she declined it.

with her messy state, she didn’t want to worry them so she refused to pick up. the girl turned toward the direction of her original path, groaning at the pain before staying still at the person in front of her.

sunghoon was not too far from her, heavy pants being the only thing heard from him as he couldn’t believe his eyes. his heart dropped and his blood ran cold once he registered it was y/n.

✩ ‘cause i knew you’ ✩

from another perspective, hoon heard the girls beating someone up, but he didn’t know it was her.

he still ran, hoping to stop whatever was happening but was too late once he found that it was just one person in the scene.

they stayed at a good distance, nobody uttering a word as they found themselves glued to the ground, only staring in each others eyes.

✩ ‘stepping on the last train’ ✩

hoon’s face was filled with guilt, while y/n couldn’t help but resent him. it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t willing to face him either.

the main thing audible were their heavy breaths overlapping one another. they were both too scared to speak, afraid to break the unbearable silence that consumed them.

✩ ‘marked me like a bloodstain’ ✩

suddenly, his feet brought him closer to y/n, mouth slightly gaped open as his eyes were watery from how beaten she looked.

the sounds of gravel beneath his shoes were heard and she could only softly flinch. her body ached for attention with the new bruises that were forming on her skin, but she couldn’t stop filling her mind with sunghoon in front of her.

then a particularly painful sensation took over in her abdomen, forcing her to clench onto that area with her hands.

she softly groaned out a sigh, dry lips crackling with her hiss as little blood fell from it. her body was in agony and she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

her hands instinctively went to the railing near her, tightly gripping onto it for comfort. she squeezed her eyes shut though still determined to leave sunghoon.

however, her body failed her when the pain had filled almost every inch of her body.

a soft scream had escaped from her as she almost lost herself, expecting a harsh take to the ground but soon finding it a little easier to stand.

she felt a hand holding her forearm in place, keeping the grip tight so she wouldn’t fall.

it instantly registered to her who it was.

she grumbled an annoyed look toward sunghoon, not fully facing him as she harshly retracted her arm back.

“i don’t need you, sunghoon.” y/n spat out, attempting to walk away but failing when the pain increased.

she softly winced, clenching onto the railing more than she did before as she walked.

the boy trailed behind, gaze still worryingly scanning her.

“you’re hurt, y/n.”

“first time you noticed?” she shot back, voice cold with how unwilling she was to talk to him.

sunghoon’s face contorted into a saddened expression as she only sighed.

“go home.”

y/n tried to leave, but her body failed her once again. she almost fell to the ground, feeling like she lost complete control when he still kept his hold firm on her.

“i don’t want your help,” she scowled.

the girl tried to push him away, but accidentally fell into his arms instead. she felt his hands instantly snake to her waist, pulling her closer as she exhaled heavy breaths.

“i know you don’t want to see me, but i’m helping you either way. you’re too beaten to be by yourself.”

she was always a stubborn one, and he remembered that. her mouth opened to defend herself but found her voice to be weakened and drawn out, allowing him to take her back to his place without a fight.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

y/n was now sitting in sunghoon’s living room, house empty with his family gone for the night.

“ah, here we are.” he murmured, grabbing a few bandaids and cotton balls before sitting down next to her.

the girl kept her gaze down when she felt one side of the couch dip, unwilling to meet eyes with her old friend.

“i’m gonna clean your face,” he gently warned, careful with how he gave his tone.

his fingers hooked under her chin, leaning closer so he could finally wipe away the dried, crusted blood that was once fresh. she softly hissed, eyes shutting as sunghoon continued to dab the bloody areas.

he couldn’t believe she was in front of him again. granted, it was to clean her wounds but even through her bloody bruises, she was still the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

he just hated that he was the reason for this. his heart shattered whenever he heard her bite back her pain. he knew she was keeping a wall up, and he knew why.

“y/n..,” he softly called. “can you look at me?”

he peered his gaze into her face, swallowing down a harsh lump as he awaited for an answer.

“no.” the girl harshly replied. “i don’t want to.”

hoon couldn’t help but scrunch his face in pain when he felt his heart sting from those very words, but he strived to continue.

his hand still held her in place, fingers slightly trembling as every second that passed was a striking reminder of how he couldn’t protect her.

“i’m sorry. this shouldn’t have happened to you. those girls are mean and vile, you didn’t even do anything.”

he truthfully hated that he found those girls to be his friends, hated that they were the ones responsible to have caused y/n to be in this state.

✩ ‘a friend to all is a friend to none’ ✩

“don’t.”

he tried to sooth her, and maybe even mend what was broken, but she couldn’t bear with it.

“don’t what?”

“don’t do this. i don’t want to hear you apologize about your friends, or about how sorry you are.” she mumbled, finally glancing up at him.

✩ ‘chase two girls, lose the one’ ✩

her heart almost melted when she was met with him, almost.

she was able to find his features that she loved most, along with how his hair flopped perfectly to the side, complimenting his pretty stare she could get lost into.

✩ ‘when you are young, they assume you know nothing’ ✩

but sunghoons heart instantly dropped and his gaze softened completely once she allowed herself to lock eye contact. his words were almost slurred with how much he was in a daze as he murmured — “but i am, y/n.”

it was almost incoherent in the way he only focused on admiring the girl in front of him.

✩ ‘but i knew you’ ✩

y/n pressed her lips into a firm line when she felt her eyes twinkle with tears. they danced around her eye bags as she felt her walls breaking down.

“if you are then why didn’t you protect me?” her lips trembled, voice trailing off once her tears threatened to fall. “you said you always would, and yet you weren’t there.”

sunghoon was at a loss for words. he opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t — because she was right, he failed her.

“you weren’t there when they threw their backpacks on me and caused bruises, you weren’t there when they each took their hits, you weren’t there when they watched blood run down my lips..,” she stopped herself, biting back the tears. “so why would you be here for me now?”

the boy felt his world stop, guilt written all over his face as everything almost deafened in his ears. her words repeatedly lingered in his head, and he couldn’t get it out.

his fingers dropped the blood-filled cotton pads, thumbs quick to stroke her cheeks for comfort but she pushed them away.

forcing a tough exterior back up, y/n weakly stood with her body still in pain. she was quick to face the door — to leave all of this behind — but sunghoon’s hand had held onto her wrist.

his breaths began getting heavy again and he was almost close to breaking down.

“i still need to clean you up..,” he weakly mumbled, eyes scanning for her demeanor.

✩ ‘tried to change the ending’ ✩

he let his fingers cling onto her wrist just a little tighter in hopes of her obliging. he couldn’t let her leave in such a state.

y/n’s back faced his front as she was faced towards the door, chewing her lips close enough to draw another portion of blood out. she wanted to stay with him, just for the night at least, but no good ever came to interacting with sunghoon.

“i don’t need your help.” she reiterated. “i’ve done it without you before, i can do it without you again.”

✩ ‘peter losing wendy’ ✩

“y/n..,”

his call was almost like a light towards home, but it instantly flickered out with the reminder that he abandoned her.

✩ ‘but i knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss’ ✩

sunghoon gave a soft tug at her wrist, trying to get her attention back onto him as he swallowed down another guilt-eating lump in his throat.

“you walked out on me, sunghoon.”

she stopped herself when she felt her heart tighten in the dreaded pain of him. though every part of her body ached, her heart tore the most.

“now i’m gonna do the same.”

✩ ‘i knew you’d haunt all of my what ifs’ ✩

hoon let out unsteady breaths, indicating that tears had finally streamed down his cheeks. he bit his lips and sniffled, feeling like he was saying goodbye when he was quick to loosen his hold on her.

his fingers detangled from her but they didn’t drop completely, they still lingered around her wrist, ghosting over what he lost.

✩ ‘and i knew you’d come back to me’ ✩

when y/n felt his hold leave hers, she retracted her arm back and winced in pain.

no words were uttered as she walked towards the door, not bothering to glance back at sunghoon, who couldn’t help but feel guilty.

✩ ‘you’d come back to me’ ✩

the girl soon walked out on him as stated, and much like he did before, she was now the one to leave him.

✩ ‘and you’d come back’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[mochidoie]

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day. 

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them. 

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge. 

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning. 

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought. 

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?” 

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips. 

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed. 

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers. 

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.” 

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now. 

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun. 

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather. 

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory. 

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail. 

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato. 

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?” 

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans. 

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him. 

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open. 

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance. 

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him. 

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs. 

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung. 

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?” 

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?” 

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.” 

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company. 

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you. 

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski. 

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another. 

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you. 

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question. 

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst. 

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.  

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly. 

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.” 

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin. 

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs. 

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.” 

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp. 

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did. 

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps? 

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.” 

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat. 

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words. 

“Want to head out?” 

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.” 

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information. 

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood. 

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other. 

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal. 

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung. 

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization. 

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember. 

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.” 

“A what?” Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?” 

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move. 

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.” 

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures. 

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster. 

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.” 

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again. 

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are. 

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?” 

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people. 

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you. 

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him. 

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again. 

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is. 

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.” 

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness. 

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now. 

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were. 

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight. 

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well. 

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.” 

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask. 

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him. 

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around. 

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair. 

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all. 

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.” 

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently. 

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.” 

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again. 

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you. 

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.” 

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable. 

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled. 

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been. 

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.” 

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much. 

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.   

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you. 

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies. 

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him. 

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog. 

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly. 

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said. 

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.” 

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression. 

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to. 

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready. 

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself. 

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier. 

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.  

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?” 

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.” 

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his. 

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.” 

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present. 

[strwbabydoll]

pairings: boyfriend!mafia!Harry x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: Harry's known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.

content warnings. IMPORTANT: hurt no comfort. blood, guns, knifes, and death. please read with caution

authors note: this has to be the darkest story i've written and i just want to say please read with caution, don't read if you are uncomfortable with any of the warning written above. minors please don't interact. this may or may not have a second part following the aftermath.

----

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

Everything seems to go wrong one after another and Harry blames himself. If he hadn’t been so reckless, had been paying more attention he would’ve seen it coming. He figured they’d come for him eventually, there’s no denying that part. He had enemies, there’s no doubt about that. It just comes with the job, or the title he would say. Being a head boss of his huge mafia crew, he’s bound to have enemies because of the fact that he’s relentless in his ways. 

He doesn’t waste time with questions that most people ask before killing someone, he gathers the information beforehand and watches them before making his move. He’s mean in his acts, likes to torture them and prolong the pain before quickly putting them out of the misery (he just doesn’t like to hear their screams.) He’ll beat them and laugh while doing it, mocking their cries while he tortures them. He’s well known around the United States, his name sending fear through most people that hear it. No one wants to deal with him, to end up on his bad side, while other mafias will send their catch to him sometimes if one of their employees doesn't want to do it. He’s popular with the other bosses, constantly being invited to any events and to teach but he declines, it’s simply a waste of his time. 

While his hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is  the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt though she understands why he does what he does. His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them. 

He doesn’t talk about his personal life to them aside from his closest man on the team, EJ who has heard bits and pieces about Harry’s girlfriend, his other men don’t get paid to listen to him gush on and on about the girl of his dreams. They whisper amongst themselves about how he’s smoked too much or needs to cut back on drinking and drugs and whatever else he does, they think it’s all gone to his head. None of them bring it up to him though, they know better than to do so. After all, he is the one that signs their checks and he treats them well enough that they don’t want to mess up any chances of keeping their job. They just don’t understand how their grumpy and uncaring boss can be so smiley and happy, especially before he has to take care of someone. 

He keeps her away from his job for a reason, there’s no need for anyone to see her, to know that he does in fact have a weakness. He doesn’t want to take a chance of a mole coming in and reporting to their boss about her. His main focus is protecting her and making her happy, always having her sporting his favorite smile. Besides, she’s too pretty to be around all the gruff men and blood and screams. He doesn’t want to tarnish her in any way, he loves her just the way she is and he refuses to be the one to ruin her view of the world. He doesn’t want her to end up like him, all grumpy and somewhat pessimistic of the world and always on the edge whenever he leaves the house. He wants her to keep laughing and cooing at cute animals they pass by, wants her to feel comfortable enough with him to always be able to shut her brain off and just follow him aimlessly. 

He’s a busy man, constantly having to answer phone calls and texts and emails and double checking surveillance videos to make sure they have the right guy, but he tries his best to leave work at the door when it’s just the two of them. He wants to be able to just enjoy the time together and not have to worry about who he needs to find next, wants to be able to look at her smiling and be content with that. He wants to enjoy their time together, doesn’t want to be distracted with his work duties and the constant sound of his phone dinging. 

They normally would just hang out at the house, watching whatever tv show either of them were interested in or just lounging around. That’s one of the main things that he loves about her is that she’s content with just existing with him, his past partner wanted to go out all of the time and party. He didn’t necessarily mind it, but he prefers to just unwind and relax on his off days; he just wanted to have a sense of normalcy, the peace amidst his chaos and his storms. That’s what happened when he met her. It was a cute little meeting that Harry still brings up quite frequently and is one of Y/N’s favorite memories of them. 

Harry was having a bad day, it all seemed to go wrong. While he’s always grumpy, he woke up especially grumpy that morning and of course he tried his best to not take it out on his employees, but of course still ended up being overly sarcastic with them, grumbling about whatever they did that upset him so he decided to make a trip to just breathe. He grabbed his jacket, hat and sunglasses and quickly let EJ know he’s leaving and he’s in charge for the meantime. He walked for what seemed like hours before he landed on a small coffee shop, a small run down looking building with plants in almost every corner and empty space. He figures this might help with his grumpy mood so he walks inside, the smell of coffee and different pastries fill his nose immediately, the sound of the different conversations happening all at once and the soft piano music coming from the speakers fill the space and his ears. 

He ordered a drink out of his normal, one that was recommended by EJ’s girlfriend actually, a tall white chocolate mocha with just a drizzle of caramel and it has to be iced. Those were her words exactly, it won’t taste as good if he doesn’t order it exactly how she says it.  The lady looked at him weird, a concerned glance that only says she knows how to do her job so she’d appreciate it if he didn’t doubt her abilities. He only gives her a nasty glare in return, one that flusters her so she walks away mumbling to herself as she starts making the order. He then walks to one of the nearby walls, leaning against it as his eyes scan the room and taking in the different personalities, mainly doing this to be aware of who else in the room with him (as if anyone who’s in the mafia would be ordering coffee, let alone from the same cheap looking building that he’s in,) but still just in case. 

Not even a couple minutes later, his order is being called out and he walks up to the register once more, hoping this will help his grumpy mood. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should’ve been though, otherwise he would’ve known that this wasn’t his order actually. As he went to grab the cup of coffee, another hand reached out as well, one that was smaller and softer. Painted nails and a few rings on the fingers, and he immediately looks up with a scowl ready to tell the person off. It was his drink after all, what were they thinking? When he looked up, he was met with a soft apologetic smile and the prettiest of eyes, her hair held back with a big bow and an outfit to match. She smelt like heaven if that was a smell, sweet smelling and strong; a scent that matched her aura perfectly, although Harry wouldn’t call it her aura, he didn’t know the right word to describe it. 

He couldn’t go off on her, it’d be cruel and he’s not that mean, so he just stares at her. She immediately begins to fidget with her hands and he can tell he’s intimidating her. 

“I’m so so sorry! I just assumed this one was mine because I was here before you, but you can go ahead and take it!” She says through a breath, her eyes wide and face flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, he doesn’t understand why she’s giving away her coffee if it’s true. He’s not gonna just take someone else’s coffee no matter his mood. 

“No, no go ahead. If you were here first then I’m not gonna just take it.” He says as he pushes the cup closer to her, he can feel the unnecessary glare from the worker at the whole interaction and it only irritates him further. 

“Are you sure? You seem very…um…. Grumpy and I’d hate to make your day worse.” She says as she pushes the cup towards him. 

This is all very silly, the whole situation. He’s just trying to be a gentleman and she can’t grasp that. He then grabs the cup and puts it in her hand, forcing a smile to seem as if he’s friendly and not trying to hide his frustration. 

“I’m serious, I don’t even know if I’ll like mine, it was a suggestion from a… friend of mine I guess. Enjoy it before it gets watery.” He says, but he doesn’t understand why he’s being so nice to her. Maybe because she’s pretty? But he doesn’t want to date her, he can’t afford to waste his time like this anymore.  She ends up telling him her name and asking a couple of questions to try to make small talk and unfortunately for Harry she’s fairly easy to talk to. They talk until his drink is ready, and then some more out the door as they walk to their destinations and then she has the confidence to ask for his number, which of course (and against his better judgment) he agrees. 

After that it’s pretty smooth sailing, conversations whenever they have the time, and of course a little white lie whenever she asks about what he does for work. Months later, Harry found himself asking her to be his girlfriend and of course she said yes. They usually spend their time lounging around and just existing in each other’s company, but today Y/N wanted to go for a little walk around the town. Normally Harry would be against it, especially when it’s right after he just took care of a member of a rival mafia who’s higher up on the scale and he knows he has several mad enemies looking for revenge. But Harry had thought that he’d been doing a good job hiding her from the public, having her dress as one of his men or wearing some sort of disguise after he told her the gist of what he actually does, so he doesn’t think much of it. He agrees but tells her they can only be out for half an hour, no more just to be on the safe side. She squeals excitedly before tugging on her shoes and throwing on one of his jackets and basically drags him out of their apartment. 

She shows him a couple of her favorite spots in town and gives him her favorite orders and practically begs for him to try, he will always try anything she wants. They talk quietly, wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss and this was Harry’s biggest mistake. He’s usually very attentive whenever they’re out and about, but he allowed himself to be distracted listening to her talk. She’s excited as she talks about some outfit she wants to get for the pet they don’t have, her eyes all bright and full of excitement. The air is warm against their skin and the clouds begin to roll in, dark and menacing and this is where Harry should’ve begun to take a hint. 

Things seemed too calm, aside from the storm beginning to roll in. It seemed too quiet, and then the rain began to fall. Small droplets of water cooled their skin and Y/N smiled brightly at the sky, silently thanking the universe because she always likes walking in the rain. It just always seemed so romantic to her. Harry didn’t think too much of it though he was still cautious. His eyes still scanned over the sidewalks and streets, trying to stay alert of his surroundings. He watched as Y/N tugged her jacket closer to her, a signal that she’s getting too cold but she’s always been too stubborn to let him know, she just enjoys being outside too much. 

He just assumed that time would be on his side with all of it, and had enough time to somehow throw the Gallegos family off of his tracks long enough to not have to be on edge anytime he’s out. He hates it whenever he feels as if he’s putting Y/N in harm's way, hates the feeling it gives him knowing he’s the reason she can’t just walk down the street or just even exist in this world. He’s too scared of someone linking her to him and then taking her away. Y/N says she doesn’t mind all that much, this is the happiest and the most taken care of she’s been in a really long time. As long as they’re both happy and safe, then she could care less. 

Harry didn’t see it coming. The breeze was picking up and the rain was coming down harder, thunder began to boom in the sky. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Everyone was scrambling to get indoors or to their cars and Y/N’s just smiling but still walking fast, she hates being too wet for too long. They were bumping into one another and Harry walked a beat behind her, just in case she happened to trip or anything. There was a slight commotion happening in front of them, the sound of gasps and the shuffling of feet as they were pushed to the side. Before long a man is running at them, a hood hiding his face and wearing baggy clothes. Harry still doesn’t think too much of it, maybe a burglary or he upset a store owner, but he’s still cautious. He walks closer to Y/N, his face turning mean in an attempt to deter the man from bothering them. It’s useless though, a good attempt at best but the man moves closer and Harry frowns. He wraps an arm around his girl and begins to move her onto the other side but the man is already right beside them, still moving. 

He’s an arm's length away and before anyone can realize it a knife is entering Y/N’s side and she’s groaning and leaning over. Harry can’t believe it, he frowns deeply and his eyes scan over her. He picks her up and begins to make his way through the crowd to find an empty spot, to make sure they’re safe before anything else happens. There’s more gasps and murmurs around them, more than likely the bystanders either assume he did it or they’re just shocked. It’s not every day that you see blood pouring out of someone. Right before Harry can get them into an alleyway and when he clicks on his ear piece to alert EJ about what’s happening, a gunshot sounds and the bullet goes into Y/N’s head, her blood splattering over his clothes and onto his face. 

He hurries into the alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he stares in disbelief. 

“EJ here, what’s up boss?” EJ’s voice comes through Harry’s earpiece. 

“EJ, they found me. They hurt her. I need you to get into all the security cameras on the strip and find out who did it, search for snipers as well. One Knifed her and someone else shot her,” His voice cracks on every word. He gently sets her down onto the ground near the wall, once he feels as if they’re far enough. Hidden enough by the shadows of the buildings but with just enough light to see the damage. 

It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry. 

The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left. 

“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, mama. I’m so fucking sorry, you didn’t deserve this and it’s all my fault. I knew me being in your life was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it. You made me so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while. You deserved nothing but happiness and smiles, you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding. I was selfish and I’ll forever blame myself, I should’ve let you go. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, please. You can’t leave me. I need you.” He cries, his words are muffled into her neck, somehow hoping him speaking into her body will magically bring her back to life, keep her alive. He can’t hear anything aside from his own sobs, everyone else doesn’t matter to him at this moment. He’s sure that EJ is trying to talk to him, but he can only focus on the fact that he’ll never be able to hold her again. 

He’ll never be able to hear her laugh again. He holds her tighter to him, his tears landing in her skin and he screams. He screams and screams forever, he doesn’t care that he’s gaining attention from the people walking by. He doesn’t  care that they’re calling the police and ambulances, doesn’t care that he could be attracting his enemies. They took the only thing he truly cared for. He knows he’ll never be able to love again. There’s a few people trying to help, ask if he needs anything. Offering to take them to the hospital, even the paramedics can’t get to her. He won’t let them take her away from him, he can’t bear it. He can’t imagine a life away from her. They’re trying to convince him that she needs to go to the hospital, trying to take her from his hold. He just holds her limp body tighter, crying harder and yells at them. 

Eventually they’re able to calm him down enough to remove her from his hold and they begin to transfer her to the ambulance. 

“Don’t bother taking her to the hospital. Just take her to the morgue. She’s dead. There’s no saving her.” He says as he wipes his tears, everyone just stares at him. 

“Please.” He says and just walks through them, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Right now, he has a mission. He’s determined to get revenge. 

He now has no reason to not hold back anymore, and he plans on finding each and every one from that group. 

He’s not going to play nice, and he’s going to take his dear sweet time. If they thought he was crazy and ruthless already, he’s going to prove that he’s insane now.

[merakiui]

HALLOWEENIE. [2]

skully j. graves x (female) reader cw: nsfw, retail au, smoking, modern au (no magic), cheesy workplace romance, may be ooc (some creative liberties were taken for various aspects of skully's character and may not align with characteristics shown in tnbc event), characters written as 18+ note - skully returns for another season of work at fellow honest's halloween store. is this the year he finally musters the courage to confess to his cherished coworker, or is it going to be another year spent with his nose buried in his poetry journal? // split into three parts due to size. read part one and part three.

You stand in front of your mirror and hold an outfit up. Rollo sits on the edge of your bed and surveys each option like one of them is the key to a life-or-death riddle.

“Does it really matter?” he asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna be lazy. I have to show some effort. Plus, I always strive to look my best regardless of the situation.”

“And said situation is a borderline date.”

“As if. We’re just hanging out.”

Rollo watches your reflection apply lipstick as dark as onyx to puckered lips. He hums low in his throat.

“And what’s on the agenda for today’s ‘hang-out’?”

“We’re meeting up at a bookstore and then we’ll probably go to a café. Maybe come back here to play some games.” You shrug and smack your lips to coat both the top and bottom evenly. “We’ll see where the day takes us.”

“In that case, take your key. I plan to stay at the library for most of the day.”

“Don’t party too hard, scholar.” You lean in close to admire your makeup. It’s just the right amount to look presentable and not in the trying-too-hard way. “You sure you don’t wanna hang with us?”

“I’m sure,” he replies with an immediacy that startles you. “You should enjoy your time together. I couldn’t get in the way of that. Rather, I’d like to avoid doing so.”

“Why? Worried Skulls will accuse us of being married again?” 

“It seemed like a genuine fear for him.”

“I dunno why. We’re all still young. Who’s thinking about marriage now?”

“A man hopelessly besotted, that’s who.”

“Have you ever considered that he might like you?”

“Not at all, for I’m merely Mr. Rollo to him.”

Frowning, you settle on one of the many outfits you assembled for today. It’s not very extravagant, but you tell yourself it shouldn’t be. Rollo busies himself with his phone while you change.

“With his sweet and polite attitude, he’s probably super popular with his classmates. He doesn’t need to fantasize about me if he’s some sorta lady charmer.”

“You think?”

You pull your shirt down just as Rollo flips his phone so you can observe what’s pictured on the screen. Bewildered, you stare at the student in the photo and wonder what you’re seeing. There’s an uncanny familiarity about his shy smile, crooked circular frames, tell-tale bedhead, and sweater vest. If it wasn’t for the Jack Skellington pin, you’d think this was someone else entirely. You yank the device from his hands for closer inspection. 

“Whoa, hold up—pause! Is that Skulls?”��

“Were you not aware? He goes to the same school as us.”

“Yeah, but—no?!” You whip your head in Rollo’s direction, flabbergasted. “What do you mean he goes to our school? How come we’ve never seen him?”

“I have,” he corrects. “Many times, as a matter of fact. You neglect to pay attention on behalf of his lack of presence.”

“Wait. So this is how he normally dresses for school? He looks so…different, and his eyes are so pretty. Orange like pumpkins.” You pinch the screen and zoom in. “I always thought he wore that goth suit of his everywhere. Are you telling me there’s a chance we passed each other and I completely ignored him?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Fuck. I feel like an asshole now. He’s a first-year, right?”

“Going into his second year, yes.”

“And you’re sure that’s our Skulls? That’s not a doppelgänger? Those are real, you know!”

“Where else is he going to attend school? The woods?”

“So that really is him. Wow. He’s almost another person without his makeup and sunglasses. Doesn’t really have that gothic vibe when he’s dressed like this.” Despite your roommate’s protest, you zoom in on every aspect that catches your attention. “He looks so cute. Where’d you get this picture?”

“He’s in the drama club. They have staff pictures online.”

“Staff? Isn’t he part of the show?”

Rollo shakes his head. “According to their website, he’s credited as a stagehand.”

“No way! I always pictured him front and center. Lead role. Roses thrown on stage when he takes his bow. That sorta stuff. Not…stagehand.”

“It isn’t our place to judge or speculate.”

“But you’re totally curious, aren’t you? You wanna judge, too, don’t you? I know you do, Rollo.”

“Not nearly as much as you do. Besides, any longer here and you’ll leave Skully waiting. It’s rude to be late.”

“Shit, you’re right!” You snatch a jacket from the pile on your bed and stuff your arms through the sleeves. “See ya!”

Skully’s waiting outside the bookstore when you come jogging down the street. A surge of relief flashes through you when you notice his casual manner of dress. Plaid green slacks, a black-and-cream striped jumper, and a collared shirt with a tie. You notice he’s without his sunglasses, having swapped them for the circular frames instead.

He’s fidgeting anxiously, tugging at the oversized sleeves. When he turns his bespectacled gaze on you, he breaks out into a beaming grin and straightens his shrimp posture. He meets you halfway, covering the distance in just a few lanky strides.

“Hey! Nice to see you.” You mirror his bubbly energy after a short assessment of his person.

So this is Skulls outside of work. He seems quieter. Kinda meek.

Skully’s cheeks flush, but he still lowers to one knee and grasps your hand. You notice his hands are soft and slim, lithe fingers curling around your wrist to gently guide your hand to his chapped lips. A startling contrast you’ve since grown accustomed to after receiving so many hand-kisses from him.

“I’m honored to meet you here on such a fine day. May this glorious encounter remain everlasting in my memory.”

Cute.

“Were you waiting for a bit?”

“Not at all!” He offers his arm. “Shall we?”

You take hold of it, giggling. “We shall.”

The shop is packed full of books, all stacked and arranged on shelves that stretch up towards the ceiling. It’s a literary paradise—old and new novels, genres and titles of all ranges, the satisfying smell of a flipped page and an unbroken spine. Caught in a web of awe, you separate from Skully and shuffle deeper inside. The thin passageways between the stacks have a distinctly labyrinthine feeling to them when you can’t see what lies beyond the sea of authors.

After greeting the woman at the front, Skully trails dutifully after you. “Are you looking for anything in particular, my dear?”

“Not really. Just browsing. If you’ve got any suggestions, lay ’em on me.”

“Oh, I have a veritable cornucopia of recommendations!” He begins to rattle them off in succession, occasionally threading in his thoughts on a specific work. “Carmilla is a classic you absolutely must read! Did you know it came before Stoker’s Dracula? I think both are wonderfully eerie in their own rights. And ‘The Rats in the Walls’ is perfect if you’re looking for something that will leave you speechless and haunted.”

You’ve heard of some of the literature he’s listing off, familiar with their stains on a course syllabus, but a few of them are new.

“I should be taking notes,” you joke. “You sure know your stuff.”

“Those are just the classics. There are plenty of gothic tales published by contemporary writers.”

“Sounds like a lot to keep up with. Where do I even start?” You run your fingers along the spines as you travel down the shelf, plucking one at random. From the looks of the cover and the synopsis printed on the back, it’s a sci-fi thriller. “Do you have any favorites within the genre? What about gothic romance?”

“I couldn’t possibly settle on a favorite—not when each one is so brilliant!”

“I guess that’s fair.”

You slide the book in its spot. You’re not searching for any particular titles, so it’s with a surge of excitement that you squeal and attempt to seize the book from the shelf above. Your fingertips brush the corner of it, but you can’t quite reach it. Skully takes notice of this and grabs hold of it for you.

“This is one of my favorites!” You hug the book to your chest and then flip through a few pages to remind yourself of its greatness.

“The Phantom of the Opera! I’ve read it a handful of times. The musical production is simply stupendous!” Skully gasps and moves in closer to read from the page you’ve landed on. “I’ve always imagined how beautiful it must be to behold the Palais Garnier in all its grandeur. Would that I could witness a real opera, but I’ve never traveled abroad before.”

“I’m not an opera fan, but I love Phantom and everything related to it. I actually got to see the opera house a few years back with Rollo. He’s got family there, so it was really convenient. We went for the city’s Halloween festival and decided to get tickets for a tour since we were already there. Aah, he’s so lucky. He’s from a place with yummy food, amazing architecture, and so much history! It’s a city full of the prettiest flowers. So romantic.”

Skully nods, his gaze wandering across the words and never meeting yours. “You and Mr. Rollo do a lot together.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. It’s not as if you and Rollo are joined at the hip, even if you do have a tendency to drag him around like he’s your own personal therapy goat. But when you aren’t under the same roof or scheduled together, you live separately. You and Rollo value solitude and independence, and sometimes the two of you need that. At the foundation of your friendship, there’s a mutual understanding you’ve never known from anyone before.

It occurs to you, while searching for an explanation to debunk the myth in Skully’s comment, that he doesn’t appear as outwardly cheerful anymore.

You turn to face him. “Are you…jealous, Skulls?”

“N-Not at all! I admire your closeness. That’s all,” he replies in a snap, mumbling the rest under his breath. “And I desire something like that for myself. I wish someone understood me the way Mr. Rollo understands you.”

Suddenly, you’re brought back to the day you broached the subject of school with him.

Does he have any friends? It’s not like I can ask him that outright without hurting his feelings. At least, I hope he thinks of me and everyone else at the shop as friends. 

“If it’s any consolation, it took us a long time to understand each other. We didn’t get along at all in the beginning. Hated each other’s guts.”

“Really?” His eyes glitter in the amber lights.

“Really. We had to learn how to coexist if we wanted to continue living together.” You drum your nails over the cover of the book and fall back into reminiscence. “You should’ve heard the way we’d argue. ‘You can’t take the car on a day when I need it. That’s hardly fair.’ And I’d always say, ‘It’s my car, so you either get used to the schedule or you’ll walk!’ Random junk like that. Looking back, it was all stuff that could’ve been resolved if we weren’t so quick to bicker. Learning to share was an experience.”

“And now your companionship is sturdier than stone!” Skully applauds.

“So you’ll find someone to connect with one day. Maybe you already know them.” You nudge him encouragingly. “When I moved here, I thought this town was filled with nothing but losers and conservative assholes. I thought I’d never find my crowd. But after meeting you and the rest of the guys at the shop…” You shake your head before you can get too sentimental. “My point is that there are lots of people who see you as a friend. I’m definitely one of them.”

A look of surprise passes over his face and then it mellows out into a soft sort of acceptance. There’s pure happiness in his smile, brimming in the gloss that glistens in his orange hues.

“I’m honored to be held in such a lofty regard! You have my gratitude, my dear. No, not just my dear. You’re my very own Angel of Music!”

Beneath your clothes, you feel your skin warming considerably. It’s as if someone’s just bundled you in blankets, and now that same tingly warmth is spreading through your body from your head down to your toes. You have the strangest urge to stuff your face in a pillow, roll around on your bed until the sheets are properly tangled, and giggle like a fool. A reaction you haven’t had since you were an awkward, pimpled teenager.

“Does that make you my Christine?” you tease, winking at him.

“‘And do I dream again? For now, I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind,’” he sings, a hand splayed across his chest. The dramatic pose prompts a sudden laugh from you. “I’m so pleased you know of it! Very few are openly appreciative of the classics like you. That, or they know nothing.”

“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t know Phantom? Studied it once for a class and never complained about another reading assignment again. It’s too good to blindly hate.”

He chuckles. “I assume you’ll be purchasing this little slice of literature then?”

“Absolutely.” You hold it up to the light, proud as a peacock. Its weathered cover and dog-eared pages are the closest thing to treasure. “I’ve always wanted a copy for myself.”

“’Twas fate you’d find it here.”

The both of you travel up and down the aisles, picking books and flipping through the pages for random passages. Skully reads from Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” citing each line in a bold, deep timbre. Or as deep as he can manage in between his laughter. You huddle close in the corner of the bookstore and giggle like children concealing a secret.

It’s a little over an hour by the time you step out into the sunshine, side by side and brimming with satisfaction. Most of the leaves have shriveled and fallen from the trees, punctuating every step of your path with a musical, multicolored crunch. 

“So opera, yeah? Tell me more about that,” you say, swinging your bag in time with your casual stride.

“It’s a curiosity I explore every now and then. I’m especially fond of classical music, you see, and opera is just so magnificent. The entertaining ensemble, the emotions, the orchestra, the beautiful stage, the variety of intonations! Aah, there are so many elements to opera that make my heart skip in exultation.”

You watch him gesticulate as he praises each part and can’t stop the laughter from slipping out. Skully hesitates around his words, suddenly self-conscious.

“Forgive me. My propensity for verbosity gets the best of me at times…”

“I don’t mind. I think it’s sweet when you talk about your interests with so much passion.” Smiling, you nudge him with kittenish intent. “And a little verbosity never hurt me.”

“I’m pleased you think so. Truthfully, my classmates… They just couldn’t hope to understand.” He breathes a wistful sigh. “Which is why I’m forever grateful to be acquainted with you. Oh, and Mr. Honest, dear Gidel, and Mr. Rollo as well!”

“Your classmates are missing out.”

“On what, if I may ask?”

“On you.”

Struck speechless, he blinks at you.

“You’re amazing, Skulls. One of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. Maybe I’m stating the obvious, but it’s the truth. I don’t know anyone who’s as earnest about Halloween as you are, and I definitely don’t know anyone who can turn a solo into a duet. And in the freezing rain—are you kidding?! You’re talented, passionate, respectful, and always authentic. And your poetry’s award-worthy. Those qualities are hard to find in people nowadays. Last time a girl wrote me a poem, she rhymed nice with lice. Like, thanks for saying my kindness is like an insect. A parasitic insect.” With a scoff, you stuff your hands in the pockets of your oversized varsity jacket. It was a parting gift from a not-boyfriend. You’ve only held onto it for so long because it’s warm and comfortable…and because you feel bad for forgetting his name. “Romance is dead and I hate illiteracy.”

Skully stares at you, soaking in your ardent adulation. It colors his cheeks a very pleasant salmon-pink, and a shy smile plays on his lips. He fixes his eyes on the path ahead.

“If I may amend her comparison… You deserve to be recognized for more than just your kindness, and it is not at all parasitic.” Having gathered the words, he clears his throat. “Your laughter is soft as sugar mice, your brave, brutal honesty renders all to ribbons with its slice, and it would humble me honorably to admit you warm my thoughts like the sweetest spice. Or that’s how I would write it, if I was that girl and I wanted to use simple words that rhyme with nice.” He coughs and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

A breeze rustles through the square. You inhale deeply.

Holy shit. He improvised that like it was nothing and it’s actually kinda good.

You want to ask him if he means it, but you dread the answer and what might lie beneath.

“How are you not married already?” you blurt, lacking the decorum to speak in complicated codes.

Skully sputters. “M-M-Married?!”

“Hey, look—there’s the place you told me about the other day. Let’s go!” Seizing his hand, you pull him along towards the storefront.

Ew, ew, ew! Why did I say that? Maybe being cringe and free isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

It’s as if you’ve entered an old-fashioned world primed for Halloween when you step inside the cozy café. The fragrance of fresh coffee beans and sugary pastries hangs heavy in the air. Friendly spooks smile back at you from where they drape in paper chains. You marvel at the glass case near the register, covered in faux cobwebs and stretching the length of a table for six. A large assortment of delectable desserts are positioned within, and for a minute you think you’ve drifted right into the best dream. 

“I’d buy them all if I could,” you whisper, pressing your palm against the cool, reflective surface as if you expect the treats to reach for you like in The Shape of Water. Turning to Skully, you point at a generously-sized slice of pumpkin pie. “Wanna share?”

“I desire nothing more.”

You place your orders. Skully settles on spiced cider and you choose vanilla chai, two ideal beverages to combat the chilly bite in the air. Before Skully can be a gentleman, you shove your card at the lady. He looks like he wants to protest, but a sly wink from you has him clamming up.

“You didn’t have to,” he says once he finds his voice.

“But I did.”

A handful of crumpled cash is held out to you next. “Please allow me to remunerate you!”

“What? No way. This is my thanks to you. I won’t accept refunds!” You push his arm away, and eventually he pockets the money.

“Then… Thank you! I will treasure your goodwill forever and always.”

You and Skully find a table near the window. It’s when you set the plate down beside your drinks that you realize the single fork.

“Looks like we’re sharing a fork, too.”

Skully’s face explodes with color. “But that’s much too scandalous! I couldn’t—I shouldn’t!”

“Why not? It’s just a fork.”

You cut a tiny portion for yourself and lift it to your lips. The pumpkin pie is soft and carries with it subtle hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. Your hum of satisfaction draws Skully out of his trance, and it’s when you offer him a bite that he begins to fluster.

“F-From the same fork… Oh, that’s much too intimate,” he murmurs hastily, his hands on his cheeks. He looks at the pumpkin pie with a doleful pout.

“C’mon, it’s not the pie of perpetual woe.” Giggling, you wiggle the fork. You’re partially aware of the effect this has on him, so you’re ready to take the blame if he bursts from the embarrassment. It’s too tempting. “Only fair if you get to enjoy it with me. Now say ‘aah’.”

Orange eyes flick from your hand to the piece and then past it all to your grinning face. He swallows thickly and leans in to meet the fork halfway. He chews mindfully.

“Oh, this is scrumptious! A fine slice of pie indeed.”

“Isn’t it? Here, have more.” You’re in the process of securing another bite when he stops you.

“M-Maybe I could…use the fork this time—for the rest of the time, actually?”

“Be my guest.”

After surrendering the utensil for Skully to peacefully eat his fill, you sample your vanilla chai. Silky tendrils curl up from the rich, redolent beverage, reminding you of little ghosts. The sip burns the tip of your tongue, but that doesn’t deter you from drinking more.

Vanilla chai is the best. Definitely a sacred gift from the gods. No exaggeration, you think, comforted by the blend of warm spices. I bet their café au lait is just as good, too. I should see if Rollo’s been here before.

You’re so caught up in your internal monologue that you fail to notice Skully’s admiring you. When he began, you can’t say. But suddenly the pumpkin pie slice is down to the crust and the fork is stained black from your lipstick. Skully rests his elbows on the table, his chin propped in his palms, and he watches you with a dreamy smile. It softens his already gentle features to angelic levels. He’s not wearing makeup today, so it’s much easier to spot the rouge that colors his cheeks. Now that you’re analyzing him and the events of the day up to this point, he’s done a lot of blushing. More than he normally does.

Shit.

You know that look. So does the Rollo in your head.

He’s going to fall for you if he hasn’t already.

“What do you wanna do after this? Rollo decided to be lame and make it a study day, so he’s not around. I was thinking we could go back to my place and play video games, but I’m down for anything.”

“A spot of video gaming sounds delightful! Um… How does one ‘video game’?”

“You’ve never played video games before? Like never, ever?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, no. I don’t have anything like that at my house. We have board games, though! I assume it’s something similar?”

“Seriously? You’re missing out! We’ve gotta play something then. I think you’ll love Layers of Fear and Little Nightmares. There’s Dead by Daylight, too.”

“If it’s by your recommendation, I’d be foolish to turn a blind eye.”

Platonic. It’s just platonic. There’s nothing happening here. Like I said, platonic vibes only.

Repeat that mantra you may, something still gnaws at you—the need to prove that it’s not a lie. To force a fact from the cruel chrysalis of truth. To make Rollo choke on his words.

And when I’m right he’ll have to dress in costume to make up for his idiocy.

Supremely satisfied, worries temporarily shelved, you slip into simple conversation about games. While Skully recounts his favorite childhood games, the names of each make you wonder whether he really is a Victorian lad stuck in the wrong time. You suppose marbles, jump rope, and dolls aren’t antique. Despite being on the precipice of obsoletion, sought after only by collectors, they’re still somewhat prevalent today.

Even so, there’s something endearing about a sheltered Skully scribbling in notebooks and enacting complex plots with porcelain dolls and toy soldiers.

“How about you, my dear? What did you do for fun in your youth?”

“Mm, I’m not sure… My dad owned a console and had a few computer games, but I was never allowed to play them. So instead I drew a lot. Loved listening to music and doing puzzles. I never could solve any of them, though. The colored cubes were the hardest, but they were fun to mull over. It helped pass the time.”

“I listened to music, too! Raindrops on the windows, the tip-tap of nails against all types of surfaces, the wind whistling through glass chimes… Aah, the nostalgia of a natural symphony is wondrous.”

Somehow, knowing what Skulls is like, that information isn’t very surprising.

“Any other music?”

“Lots! My parents have a gramophone that’s been in our family for generations.”

“Whoa! That’s awesome! I bet it plays all sortsa stuff.”

“Mostly records. Just records, actually. I would love to show you someday. I think you’ll find classical pieces are quite compelling. They’re brilliant sources for inspiration.”

“Ooh, I’ll have to take you up on that invitation. We can listen to classical music and do some writing.”

Skully smiles, enamored with the suggestion. “I’m grateful if you even give it a smidge of consideration. It would be an honor to host you.”

With your cups now empty and the pie reduced to crumbs, you and Skully drop the dishes in the to-wash bin on your way out. Determined to do one act of gentlemanly service, he holds the door for you. He’s the picture of confidence, oozing eager smiles, so you walk through.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Graves.”

“Anything for my lady,” he replies with exaggerated aplomb, lowering into a dignified bow.

Even though the clouds obscure the sun, thus adding another unnecessary layer of cold to an already nippy day, the walk back to your apartment is all comfy conversation and lighthearted laughter. You find yourself grinning so much that your cheeks have started to ache, but it isn’t unpleasant or burdensome. It’s just the diversion your body needs to ignore the chill seeping through to your marrow. You regret wearing a skirt, even if your leg warmers provide a modicum of protection against the encroaching frost, but in the presence of Skully you’ve never felt warmer.

You can’t shake it—this growing fondness. It’s always been there; you’ve just never paid it any mind. Maybe it’s become so prominent because you’ve never been privy to this side of Skully—one that’s so shy and reserved, a quiet contrast to the boisterous character you work with at Fellow’s shop—and you find yourself charmed by that. He’s like a scarf or a hug or your favorite plush, carrying with him the comforts of inviting, dependable softness.

And he’s weird, but that’s his most lovable trait next to everything else.

“Hey, you’re not wearing your crown!” You reach up to touch his hair and he jerks away in a flash.

“W-Well, yes… Um. Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Just different.” You skip ahead towards your building, twirling your keys. They jingle in time with the rhythm of your footsteps. “I like Skully with and without the crown because either way he’s still himself, and that’s perfect to me.”

He has to collect himself, for when your back is turned to him he shakes with merriment. It’s at your calling of, “You coming, Skulls?” that he hurries along.

Once at your front door, the key turned in the lock, you realize something.

“We’re kinda like Jack and Sally, aren’t we?”

“W-We are?! Is it because we’re simply meant to be?” Hope is sewn into each hasty syllable.

“What? No. It’s because you’re tall and I’m wearing patchwork fishnets.” You stick your leg out so he can view the various patterns sewn together. A spiderweb, hearts, roses, spirals, zigzags, polka dots. “Just like Jack and Sally!”

“Ah, right… That’s what you were implying. Please ignore my wishful connection.”

What the fuck! What the fuck! What. The. Fuck was that?!

You push the door open in your haste to shake off whatever all of that just was. It’s a reference to his favorite film—you know that much. But the implications in it—in what Jack and Sally are… You give yourself a mental kick and file inside the apartment. It smells like apples and cardamom and is filled to bursting with houseplants. Most of them are Rollo’s. Actually, who are you kidding? They’re all Rollo’s. Your thumb is about as green as the radioactive waste you see in cartoons.

We’re like Jack and Sally? Am I dumb as dirt? Why would I say that without thinking? They’re love interests! Lovers! And Skulls and I are…not.

Shrugging your jacket off, you trudge deeper inside and drop it on the nearby sofa. Skully, having left his shoes at the door, trots after you.

It wouldn’t be an issue if I knew where he stood, but I don’t and so this is basically like me edging him over the course of however-many-months he’s been feeling this—if he even has feelings at all. Uuugh. Skulls, why can’t I read your mind? If I could, all of this would be so much easier… Maybe.

“Welcome to home, sweet home. Make yourself comfortable. My room’s this way.” With a surprising amount of balance, you manage to tug your sneakers off as you wobble-walk down the hall. 

It’ll be fine. We’re gonna play some games and it’ll be totally chill. Nothing weird. You glance over your shoulder to find a starry-eyed Skully gazing at the autumn decorations strewn smartly about the kitchenette and sitting room. Damn it, Rollo! Why did you have to put that nonsense in my head? Now I’m overanalyzing every one of Skulls’s behaviors like some stalker just to prove your stupid ass wrong.

Your room is exactly how you left it: a mess. But you’re just shameless enough to not care about appearances. Skully watches you push all of your potential outfits onto the floor, looking away when his gaze happens to fall on a stray bra.

He has such a vintage heart… Fuck, Skulls, you’re way too polite for your own good, you think, swiping the remote from beneath the wrinkled sheets.

“Your bedroom is resplendent, my dear.” He glances at the many lights strung along the bed frame and fastened to the walls. To make up for your abysmal botanical brilliance, you’ve filled strangely-shaped jars and vases with plastic flowers and paper stars, and you’ve even hung strands of faux ivy in empty corners. In his scan of your chaotic decorations, he notices the pumpkin-shaped fairy lights situated above the headboard of your bed. “Truly spectacular!”

“Don’t you think you’re laying it on too thick?”

“Not at all! This place has a warm and welcoming feeling. It’s very alluring.”

You set your copy of The Phantom of the Opera on the ledge beneath the window, a gem you’ll pry open later tonight. Various trinkets greet you with painted faces and mirror reflections when you peer at them, all set in a line like misfit soldiers.

“Alluring, huh?” You sit on the edge of your bed and fold one leg over the other. “Okaaay. Tell me, then—what makes it seem so?”

“You.”

“Me…” And then you look at him sharply. “Me?”

“This entire room is very you.” Skully gestures to each section while he speaks. “The decorations, the lingering fragrances from candles and perfumes, the charming clutter that gives this space its character—it’s all part of who you are. Tiny tidbits of (Name), revealing unto me a beauty I’ve only just scratched the surface of.”

I’m not sure you can find beauty in a mess.

“Well, this is a first. Rollo usually tells me I’d make good friends with the rats in their nests, so thanks for the optimistic review.”

Skully shakes his head, but the motion slithers down to his hands as well. He waves them in front of you in objection. “You misunderstand! It isn’t just mindless optimism. These are pieces of my heart—the truth—shared freely with you! I really do admire your room.”

Pieces of your heart?

“Huh.”

Falling backwards, you lie on your back like a turtle overturned. The ceiling is the easiest thing to comprehend here. Nothing to dissect amidst the cracking drywall and smears of long-dead insects, all of which were subjected to the brutal thwacking from your slipper.

No one’s that nice. Even Fellow has his limits. But then you cringe at that. Maybe he’s not the standard I should be comparing Skulls to. They’re on completely different levels.

“Um… Is something the matter?”

You lift your head only slightly to view Skully, who stands awkwardly at the end of your bed. 

“Yeah. I’m struggling.”

“Oh! Is—well, is there anything I can do to be of service? I’m sorry if I did something o-or if I crossed a boundary at all! It wasn’t my intention. Aah, I’m a vile reprobate—a soul most wretched! To make my lady uncomfortable when I only meant to commend her lovely room…”

“Whoa, hey! It’s not your fault. I’m debating something and can’t seem to decide.”

Skully’s eyes, which were starting to gleam with tears, light up. “A debate?”

“Mhm.” You sit up and level him with a grin. “Are we feeling a movie or video games today? What’re the vibes?”

You can feel the charged energy in the room disperse at once, and Skully visibly slackens in relief.

“If it’s a movie it has to be The Nightmare Before Christmas, of course! What better way to welcome October than with Lord Jack!”

A giggle rises in your chest. “Sure. We can do that.”

Finding the remote buried beneath the covers, you click the old TV on and scroll through your watchlist until you locate it. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen it, having rewatched it with Rollo to acquaint him with the references Skully would undoubtedly make during shifts. That, and it’s an enjoyable watch. If there’s one thing you know about Skully J. Graves, it’s that he has impeccable taste.

You shift on your bed until you’re cozied up against the wall of pillows lining the headboard. And then you turn towards him and pat the space beside you.

He hesitates, fidgeting on his feet, before stiffly seating himself on the edge.

“Here.” You toss him an oversized goat plush—a souvenir from Rollo’s home city. “Get comfy and veg out properly. There’s plenty of room.” To prove it, you relax against the pillows and stretch your legs. 

Skully’s gaze climbs up the length of your legs before quickly snapping up to your face. “Is this really okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I don’t care if you chill on my bed.”

You wouldn’t be the first guy to do so.

His apprehension made obvious, you heave a sympathetic sigh and sit up. “Do I make you uncomfortable? You can be honest. It won’t offend me.”

It’ll just hurt. A little. A lot.

“N-Not at all!” You’re almost certain that’s a lie. “It’s just… Well… To be perfectly transparent, I’ve never been inside a lady’s room before…” He hugs the plush close to his chest as if hiding behind the fluffy veil it provides. “That is to say, it feels wrong to trespass in this sacred space when you haven’t even met my parents. Isn’t this the sort of meeting meant for wedding nights? It’s too special!”

Meeting his parents? Wedding nights? What is he on about?

You lift yourself from the sheets and shuffle closer to where he’s anchored at the very edge. He’s a bundle of stress and anxiety, scrunched up like he’s hoping to shrink out of sight. The connection doesn’t occur to you at first. You were so busy refuting it that it struggled to slip through your defenses, but with that now compromised the realization finally rears its head.

“That Spider Queen you wrote about—she’s supposed to be me.”

Skully angles his body towards you. He opens his mouth like he’s about to confess the many secrets sewn into his soul, but all he can manage is a nervous noise. His face flares up, treacherously lambent. The silence is confirmation enough.

Now you’re left with a scary thought: Is the Spider Queen a comparison birthed from libidinous attraction or romantic affection? If it’s meaningless lust, you can work with that. You deal in the casual sway of physical and emotional desire like it’s second nature.

But romance is craggy, unstable terrain—all steep, jagged, perilous curves and drops. You can’t maneuver around something so high-stakes.

“Jack’s Lament” reaches your ears then. Your gaze pans over to the TV, where the melancholic Pumpkin King climbs the infamous Spiral Hill.

Deep down, you had an inkling there was some connection between you and the Spider Queen. You just didn’t want to trust in Rollo’s shrewdness. Annoyingly, he’s usually right with these things. His ability to see everything in objective scope will forever chew at you. You who is almost always caught in the cobwebs of everything but what rests within reality.

“Please forgive my transgression.” Skully’s kneeling in front of you now, his head bowed as if in anticipation of admonishment. “I meant no harm! I only meant to convey my thoughts and feelings, and I did so through the Great and Glorious Spider Queen. I understand if you find it improper. I… I’m willing to burn every poem I’ve ever written. As long as it will bring you peace, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m not upset. I’m, like, insanely flattered to be your muse. That’s what it’s called, right?”

His head snaps up to look at you, and he manages a shy nod. You notice the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and this time he can’t hide behind his sunglasses. “So… So you still wish to see me at work?”

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I wanna see you! You’re the best part of those boring shifts. You make work feel like we’re getting paid to have fun.” You tilt your head at him and lightly bat his shoulder. “So don’t worry. I’m totally cool being part of your writerly inspiration if it means you’ll continue producing some kick-ass poetry.”

He straightens up and tries a shaky smile. “My dear, have I neglected to mention you’re an affable angel? I’m forever beholden to you.”

“They call me Miss Affable for a reason.” No one has ever done that before, but you’re glad his anxious expression is finally shifting into one of amusement. Because you’re you and can’t help it, you add, “So how’d I become the Spider Queen?”

“Well, you always have such beautifully sharp nails. It reminds me of a spider: dexterous and strong, yet gentle in their artistry. They must be if they’re to weave such meticulous patterns into their webs. Like you.”

You give an impressed whistle and flash your acrylics proudly. “Thank you, thank you.”

“And…female spiders are often in charge of s-sexual encounters. They’re more dominant than the males. S-Sometimes…” He rubs his arm nervously. “Sometimes the male will t-tie the female up just to avoid being cannibalized at the end of copulation.” And then he ducks his head in shame, a fierce blush sweeping over his face. “I apologize most heartily. It’s strange, I’m aware. Please pay no heed to it.”

I get it now. He has the hots for me. That’s all this is.

You’d punch the air in celebration, but you don’t want to scare Skully off. This situation requires tact and patience. Gentle, you remind yourself. Don’t chase him away.

“You’re saying those aspects of spider sex remind you of…me?”

Am I really that frightening?!

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention! I didn’t mean to offend. I-I only meant to draw attention to your many strengths as they align with that of spiders.”

“Aah, all right.” You click your tongue and eye him like a predator would prey. “So if I’m the Spider Queen, does that make you the Spider King?”

“I could never flatter myself with that title.” He shakes his head. “Rather, I’m just an ordinary fly.”

“Hey, you deserve to be praised, too. I can’t be all-powerful and perfect in your poems.”

“You could be. You are.” He shrinks back when you creep in, pushing himself against your wall.

“And you’re more than an ‘ordinary fly’ to me.” Playfully, you place your index beneath his chin and lift his gaze to yours. “As Queen, I hereby decree that you, Skulls, are to be my Spider King for the rest of today.”

“Just today?”

“Mhm. And then you can decide if you still want to be a fly.”

“If I still want to be a fly…” he echoes, searching your face for any indication of a blague. You notice the way he lingers on your mouth, caught in a web of his own making, and suddenly your mind’s made up.

“Tell me what you want.”

He chokes on his reply. “W-What I want? Uh… Um. I…” He turns to look helplessly at the TV, as if Jack Skellington can poke his skull out of the screen and offer a satisfactory answer in his stead.

You think you might be cornering him, so you back off. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to pressure you. Maybe we’re not on the same wavelength like I initially thought…”

“No, we are! At least, I’m hopeful we are because I—” He inhales deeply and rushes through the rest of his sentence. “B-Because it’s not what I desire but, rather, who. You, my dear. It’s you whom my heart longs for like that of a parched plant.”

His hands twitch towards the beginning of a protective barrier, but he catches himself and twists them together instead.

“Well then, shall we, my Spider King?”

His hasty nod isn’t good enough. You need to hear him say it—need the confirmation that this is just sex and nothing more. 

“If at any point you wish to stop—”

“I won’t.” Conviction hardens his wobbling tone. “I want to do this.”

You wink. “Then I hope I live up to the legend.” 

Unceremoniously, you lift your shirt up and over your head and toss it aside. Your skirt goes next. Skully marvels at the sight of you, transfixed by your black, lacy bra and matching panties. An exquisite garter belt hugs your waist, its hooks attached to your thigh-high fishnets. In every sense of the word, you’re ravishing. 

“Oh,” he breathes, taking you in like one does a portrait of incredible renown. He reaches for you next, his fingers curling through the air, and stops himself. In a quieter voice you think you’re not supposed to hear, he says, “I’m spellbound, hopelessly so. No. No, I shouldn’t. Aah, but if only I could…”

“You can touch me. No need to be shy.” You creep towards him on the bed. Your acrylics drum a teasing rhythm along his arm, and he flinches in surprise when you lean closer to whisper in his ear. “I won’t bite…unless you want me to.” 

His face explodes with color and he slaps his hands over his cheeks. “W-Would you?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Only—” Skully swallows thickly, his throat bobbing. “O-Only if it won’t b-bother you…”

“Not at all.” You take hold of his hand and guide it to your chest. “So you’re into biting, hmm? What other scandalous mischief does my Spider King like to get off to?”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…shameful.”

“Try me.”

Skully looks between his hand cupped around your breast and your challenging smirk. Somewhat shyly, he cradles your other unattended breast and squeezes curiously. And then he slides both hands beneath your bra to explore without the pesky barrier of fabric.

“Mm. Well. I… I wish to hear your voice when we…” He clears his throat and gazes at you, shy and sincere. “And I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me I’m doing it properly—that it’s pleasing.”

“I can do that. Anything else?”

His stare lingers on your lips, but he’s quick to center his attention on your face. “I want to make you happy. More than anything. I hope… I hope I can be the one to add light to the bewitching depths of your beautiful eyes. There’s a distinct melancholy in them—your eyes, I mean. I’ve always noticed it.”

Way to put me under a microscope, Skulls.

“That doesn’t sound shameful at all.” Looping your arms around his neck, you coax him closer. You sink into the pillows and Skully melts against you. “It’s all very sweet.”

“But I’m selfish,” he admits, his mouth at your neck. “I want to give you the world and everything in it even if that takes away from others. When that ghoulish brute showed up and treated you so callously, I wanted nothing more than to slam his head into the wall… Just so he’d stop hurting you.” 

Strangely, your heart flutters. That’s…new.

“I want to protect your smile, your happiness, your heart… All of it. All of you. I want to take all of your pain and sadness away—cloak your fear in warmth so that you’ll only know comfort. If I could, I’d do it in a blink.” In a softer voice, he adds, “I… I hope I can. I’ll try.”

“Why? There’s no need to go that far.”

My pussy cannot be that good.

You force a brittle laugh and then giggle when he presses another peck into your jugular, as if he’s trying to leave an invisible mark of affection.

“You’re worth it.”

“Am I?”

“Indubitably.”

The kisses trail up your throat to your jaw. His hips rut uselessly against yours, his dick straining against his slacks. You catch his face in your hands and admire his pale skin burning bright beneath your palms, shimmering with sweat.

“You’re cute, Skulls.”

He chokes on a hitched breath. “Y-You think so? I think you’re much cuter.”

“Whaaat? No way.”

You kiss his cheek, leaving a dark print in the wake of your lips, and revel in the way he proves your point when he stumbles over his retort. Slyly, you shift your hands to his shoulders, down, down, down until they’re sliding beneath his sweater. He squeaks when your warm palms rest over his chest to map out the feel of him. You trace his skeleton in your exploration, internally naming off various bones when your fingertips press down on them. He whimpers when you settle on his hips.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

“May I truly?”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Well…” He inhales sharply when you palm at his erection. His brows crease together, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“And you want your first kiss to be with me?” You say it like it’s something he ought to rethink, but his next admission indicates that he is not on the same humorous page as you.

“Just you. Only you. I wouldn’t dare dream of it with anyone else.”

You grasp his chin to hold him still. Orange meets (eye color). “Then follow my lead. Don’t think too much. Just feel.”

You’re the safety net who catches him when he falls—the sticky strands of web that ensnare the fly. You fit your lips against his. They’re chapped and cracked, but they’re honest and reveal an inexperience you were expecting. He’s paralyzed, his hands frozen at your sides, caging you in against the pillows, and so you smooth his paranoia with comforting strokes along his back and up his shoulders. He sucks on your lip in an attempt to keep pace with you, hotly molding his mouth to yours. You’re reminded of a dog slobbering all over its owner when it’s excited, and the image of Skully with a wagging tail and floppy ears bleeds vividly into your wild imagination.

“I’m sorry,” he pants once you’ve broken away. “I’ve much to learn. I just—I don’t want you to be displeased.”

“It’s fine. No one’s an expert their first time. I wasn’t.” You kiss his cheek consolingly, tilting your head to meet him halfway for another saccharine smooch. He whines appreciatively. You break to speak. “And it is pleasing. Very much so.”

You seize his wrist and drag it towards your sopping panties, allowing him to feel liquid proof of your arousal. Skully stares at you in awe. He presses against the wet patch and you suck in a shivery breath. When he drags his hand back, his fingertips are moistened with your slick.

“All of this…from me?”

“Mhm. Most don’t get it like this.”

“This wet?”

“I’m not easy,” you lie because you’ve been nothing but easy today. A peculiarity you’ve decided to ignore for the time being.

“No. No, of course not,” he babbles, shaking his head rapidly. “It’s beautiful. You—” He cups your face. “You’re…beautiful.”

“Thanks, Skulls.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, smiling.

A minute ticks by. Neither of you says anything, and Skully makes no effort to break this silent spell. You’ve never truly looked at him before. A real, punctilious look, one of assessment. He has such a kind, handsome face. You’re not sure why he hides behind his sunglasses. If it was your choice, you’d have him wear his glasses. They’re nerdy but in an attractive way. The look suits him.

Eventually, though there’s something flattering about being pinned under his adoring stare, you can’t bear it any longer. You place your hand over his and clear your throat.

“So…”

“Oh! Right. Yes, that’s right!” He scrambles away, hurrying to pull his sweater over his head. “Sorry, my darling. I was so caught up in you I almost forgot what I was doing. It’s like when you see something so exquisite that it roots you in place and all you can do is simply stop and admire. Do you know the feeling?”

“I do.”

You giggle at his muffled rambling and lift the sweater to hear him clearly. He blinks back at you, his glasses sitting tilted on the slope of his nose. You’ve been told all sorts of things in bed, each of your partners choosing their own salacious nicknames for you. You’ve never been very partial to any of them. They’re all flimsy words at the end of the day, buoyant and ephemeral, never sticking no matter how much you secretly want them to.

None of them ever do. They never feel right or real, more of a placeholder for bedroom pornography. You want to be lavished so much you drown in the praise and blarney.

You reach for his glasses, fold them up, and place them aside. “You’re a natural charmer, aren’t you, Skulls?”

“I mean it.”

“Everyone does in the heat of the moment.”

“But I—” He stops short, chewing his lip, and softens the admission to a dejected, near-inaudible murmur. “I mean it always…”

You peer into his face and conveniently choose to ignore it.

“Which way do you want me?”

“Every way,” he blurts. “Or whichever way you wish to be had in.”

You laugh. “I feel bad. Like you’re doing most of the work and I’m neglecting your pleasure.” 

“Oh, please don’t! You’re not. This is everything I could’ve ever imagined and more.”

You poke at his bare chest with a manicured finger. Dark lips twist into a convincing puppy-pout. “Come on, Skulls. You can be greedy with me. What do you want? I’ll do it.”

Skully withdraws enough for you to sit up properly. He allows himself to fall when you push. His hands fly to his face. A crooked part of you is satisfied to see him wriggling beneath you, his legs bent up awkwardly, as if he really is strung up in your web. You pull them apart easily, slotting yourself there. Peeking at you through the cracks in his fingers, he watches your hands dance along the waistband of his slacks.

“You wanted me to bite you, didn’t you?”

He nods weakly, the words clogged in his throat.

“I think you’re holding back. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I won’t pry, but I am curious.”

You undo the button and zip on his pants and slide them down. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but your stomach somersaults at the sight of his hefty erection straining against the fabric. His boxers are comically patterned with expressive cartoon pumpkins. He’s nothing if not loyal to the brand.

“I… I-I…” he stammers from behind his hand-shield, forcing the syllables out. “I… I really want your phone number!”

“My…phone number?”

That’s a first. Most guys usually want a blowjob or anal from me. Did I hear him right?

“I really, really long to talk to you. O-Outside of the shop, I mean. But I… I didn’t want to impose. I saw how much it bothered you when customers pestered you for it and I thought maybe you might not want mine. A-And it’s very fine if you don’t! But…I would like to talk to you, if you’ll allow it. I want to know you—all of you, every precious side—if you’ll allow it.”

The request is so stunning it temporarily blanks your brain. You come to with a mechanical nod, your palm hovering over his dick print.

“Yeah… Yeah, of course you can have it.”

That’s it? Is it really that simple?

You realize it’s been four years since you and Skully met. Has he always wanted your number, or is this new?

Does it matter?

Social anxiety exists. He’s probably shy. And I guess I’m kinda to blame for scaring him into thinking he couldn’t have it. 

Again, you decide it’s not worth the deliberation. With your mind now successfully emptied of those mood killers, you focus on peeling his boxers away to reveal what’s waiting beneath. It springs up to meet your hand, pathetically weeping pre-cum, and he goes stock-still when you wrap your fingers around the tip and thumb at his slit. 

“O-Oh—if you do that—” A gasp shudders through him. “(Name)—”

“I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Skully tries to, but he throws his head back the moment you drag your hand down his length. His skin prickles with a shiver, and he gazes blearily at the ceiling and then at you. It’s almost too much, adorable and titillating at the same time. You want to see how far you can take your teasing, how much more until he’s sobbing.

You care about your coworker and want him to experience only the best slivers of seventh heaven, but you also want to see him shift through a range of emotions, to make his back arch up against the sheets while you stroke him to climax, and feel satisfied knowing it was you who got him there. Maybe it’s this cruelty and the spark of electric lust that are intrinsic to your nature—to that of the famed Spider Queen.

“Do you wanna cum inside?”

He lowers his hands, looking like you’ve just asked for marriage. Orange eyes glimmer brighter than the fairy lights strung around your bed frame.

“My lovely darling, your benevolence is inspiring.”

A laugh rattles in your chest. Not because it’s funny but because he really does mean it, and perhaps it’s this virginal authenticity that encourages the sound. Like it’s been tickled out of you, a delightful noise that pairs well with his rosy cheeks. You move to straddle him next, and he props himself on his elbows to observe. There’s a soft stutter in his breath when you tug your panties aside and, holding him still, position yourself. The soft head of his cock kisses your slick folds, and you can almost hear the flowery poetry lurking on his tongue.

But he keeps his mouth shut, absolutely enamored with the erotica brought to life before his very eyes. You’re about to sink down when he squeaks.

You pause. “What’s up?”

“I’d like to hold you when we… Is that all right with you?”

“That’s fine. Come here.”

Skully sits with his feet tucked under his rear, kneeling very patiently. You move to straddle him once more and reach between your bodies to spread yourself open. His hands find your waist. This time, you lower yourself without issue. The stretch has both of you hissing through your teeth. It’s delicious.

You’ve only taken half of him and you think he’s about to pass out from the pleasure, but then he grips your hips and tips you over. Gasping, you fall back against the sheets and scramble for purchase. He steadies you, dragging your hips up to meet his, and it occurs to you, now arranged in missionary, that he’s leaning in to savor the warmth of your bodies pressed close.

Like a spider, you think, impressed. Look at you, Skulls.

You’d give him the euphoria of a bite—canines in his shoulder—but it’s hard to think when he’s so set on rutting into you with reckless abandon.

“Inside you… I’m inside you. Our bodies—” he grunts and bows his head— “are kissing! So sweetly. So wonderful…”

You cling to him, digging your fingers into his shoulders. Your nails will have to take the place of teeth for now. That’s romantic, you manage to think in between the thoughtless daze. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours next.

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

Skully peers at you, orange eyes alight in the dimness of your room. With his dazed expression and the blush dusting his cheeks, he looks pure and cherubic. Sweet and shy. An exact opposite of the eccentric gentleman he normally masquerades as at work. There’s a certain vulnerability to this Skully, whose layers have been rendered bare here. 

“Mhm,” he hums, pushing in deeper. You deflate against the many pillows propped behind you and sigh dreamily. His mouth ghosts over yours. “I’ve dreamt a moment just like this on countless nights.”

Before either of you realize it, you’re kissing again. Despite his awkward non-technique, Skully’s movements are gentle. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your chin, your cheek, your lips—every inch of your face.

“I love you,” he admits suddenly, panting, and places his hands on either side of you. “Oh, I love you so much. I’ve always—a-always loved you. You’re my everything.”

You halt your physical reciprocations, for the emotions don’t match up.

Oh, you think worriedly. Oh, no. No, no, nooooo.

“Skulls—”

“And I want to continue loving you for as long as I’m alive.” He thrusts aimlessly, his breath caught in his throat. “And… Aah… I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. (Name)… My darling, my lovely, you mean so much to me—more than I can ever hope to describe.”

No, no, no! Don’t say that!

“Skully, wait.”

His hips stutter to a stop then, and he pulls back from the column of your throat to look at you. “Is… Is something wrong, my dear?”

You realize now that the my dear and every other hypocorism he uses for you holds a special weight when contrasted with the rest.

“I…” Exhaling a rattled breath, you try and fail to meet his concerned stare. “I can’t do this.”

In your peripheral, Skully opens his mouth to speak and then promptly shuts it. A shadow flickers on his countenance. You can’t tell if it’s betrayal or sadness or something worse.

“I understand,” he mumbles after a long moment.

No further words are exchanged. He slides out, climbs off of you, and quietly dresses himself. You turn over on your back, hug a pillow to your chest, and drown in the tidal wave of regret that washes over you.

He’s going to fall for you if he hasn’t already, Rollo told you, but you didn’t believe him. And why should you? You’ve had plenty of people lust after you to varying degrees, but they’ve never loved you.

Not like Skully does, that is. He loves you in every conceivable way and never expects anything in return. He loves you with everything he has, heart and soul, and you could feel the sugar crystallizing in his confession. He loves the unlovable you. The you who is vulgar and impatient. The you who has a temper. The you who is awkward and strange. The you who is broken. The you who is sometimes semi-whole.

He loves everything about you—the good and the bad. He loves you for you.

You weren’t ready to battle that monster today.

You feel the soft caress of the duvet and realize Skully’s draped it over you. In a panic, you turn around to confront him.  

“Skulls, I’m—”

But he’s already gone. Minutes later, you hear the front door shut behind him.

“Sorry…”

Immediately, you slap your hands over your face and groan.

What am I doing?

You pull the blanket up to your chin and lie there, gazing at the plastic star-spotted ceiling. They don’t glow as brightly in the dark as they used to.

“I fucked up, Rollo. I fucked up big time. But what was I supposed to do? The guy likes me—actually likes me—and I—”

“He loves you.”

You purse your lips in a tight line. Thanks for that oh-so-helpful correction.

“Well, what do you feel for him?” he asks in a you’re-making-this-more-complicated-than-it-needs-to-be tone.

“I don’t wanna hurt him with loveless sex. I mean, come on, that’s kinda my whole thing. I don’t date because it never works out, and Skulls is…not like me.” Sighing, you drum your acrylics against the counter. “He’s a really nice guy. He isn’t faking it because he wants to sleep with me.”

Scanning the items of the next customer in line, Rollo hums his acknowledgement. In desperate need of a mindless task, you begin to bag them as they come.

“You should tell him that, then.”

You worry your lip between your teeth. “I… I was scared, Rollo.”

He remains quiet, allowing that revelation to soak into the air. You think he understands. You’re not afraid of Skully. You could never be afraid of the guy who makes you smile and laugh, who loves so tenderly, who puts himself in front of a bully all for your sake.

“Scared of him?” he finally asks, just to clarify, and there’s a dangerous edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No, not him. Just… He was so sweet and gentle. With past partners, we’ve always…fucked. No decorum. Maybe a little foreplay to set the mood. Nothing too cheesy. That’s all there is to it. Usually. But with him it wasn’t just sex. That was, like, I don’t know! Valentine’s Day or some shit. Like, I felt so cherished, Rollo. Or maybe it’s better to describe it like worship? Like I really was his Spider Queen… A-Anyway, that’s never happened before! I was caught completely off guard. My heart wasn’t ready.”

Rollo hums like he’s putting thought into your confession, but he’s more focused on the next customer.

“I feel bad. He’s obviously inexperienced. I mean… He said he’s never felt that way about anyone before, Rollo.”

“So he’s infatuated.”

“It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

You frown at a grinning pumpkin plush and then stuff it in a paper bag. “Everyone goes through the honeymoon phase when they’re in love.”

“So you recognize that what he feels for you is love.”

“No.” You hold your finger up and wave it in front of him. “Not love. It’s a weather forecast, okay? Completely unreliable. I’m sure it’ll change the minute the season’s over. Seasonal romances are a real thing, you know. Same for situational stuff, too.”

“What can you call his actions if they aren’t motivated by love?”

You drag your finger along the spotless countertop. What indeed?

“Like I said, he’s a nice guy. Affection comes to him naturally.”

“Does it?” Rollo punches numbers on the register and swaps cash for change. “You can like someone, but it takes effort to love someone. Truly and authentically.”

A line from Skully’s diary pops into your mind: I’m not so sure I like (Name). He wrote that about you. About how sour his first impression of you was and how he was certain he wouldn’t get along with you because, as he put it, the both of you were too different.

Rollo is steadfast in this opinion, and you know he’s willing to debate it into the grave with you. So you curb your opposition and instead take his side. Purely for entertainment purposes, of course. Devil’s advocate.

“So he loves me. What about it?”

“Do you love him?”

You scowl at him and stuff a witch hat into a bag with other decorations.

“You really don’t sugarcoat anything, do you?”

“Perhaps that’s a difficult question lacking a clear answer. Allow me to amend it. Rather, do you enjoy his company?”

“He’s fun, yeah. I enjoyed what we did. Who wouldn’t? It’s sex.” You give Rollo a not-so-amused side-eye when he quirks his brow. “And I like being called pretty. Is that so bad?”

“You like the person who calls you pretty,” he suggests, but it doesn’t sound accusatory or questioning.

Like is a safe word. It can imply everything and nothing at the same time. A pleasant middle ground between love and not-love. Between absolute detestation and tolerance. Between platonic and romantic. It’s almost like the word fine. No one worries when you say you’re doing fine, just as no one wonders anything more when you say you like someone. 

“I liked the chemistry.”

“Do you hate Skully?”

You groan. “Until you break this circular conversation, I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“So be it. You’ll have to tell him something, though. He deserves closure, at least.”

“I’m not gonna break his heart.”

“I’m not saying you should.”

You recall Salad Fingers’s insult from before: I dunno why you’re defending her like you’re her boyfriend. Wait, is that it? Do you like her? Well, tough fuckin’ luck, dude. She’ll eat your heart if you aren’t careful. Leave it in complete shambles. Save yourself while you can.

“I’m not gonna break his heart,” you repeat firmly, but more for yourself. 

“When exactly does this ‘I’m not talking to you anymore’ come into play?”

“Right now.”

And so you shut your mouth.

A familiar face approaches the register next. She places a Jack Skellington doll on the counter and Rollo rings her up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but is your other coworker in? Skully, was it?” She shifts from foot to foot, embarrassed. “I’d like to introduce myself. I didn’t get the chance last time.”

You narrow your eyes at her. She’s that girl from before. The one crushing on Skulls.

You swipe the doll and hand it to her, all business. The scathing comments that leave your mouth are the exact opposite.

“Back off, bitch. It’s never gonna happen. You’re not his type.”

I don’t see him writing poems about you or info-dumping about obscure Jack lore. Are you his muse? Did he fuck you like you’re his cherished Spider Queen? Didn’t think so.

She backs away as if you’ve just hissed and bared your fangs at her. You might as well have with your tone. Rollo is quick to defuse the sizzling tension by offering her the receipt as some sort of balm. “Have a spooky day,” he recites the workplace catchphrase in perfect monotone, which doesn’t do anything to improve her shattered mood.

The poor girl hugs the doll to her chest, tears brimming in her eyes, and hurries off. Rollo doesn’t need to voice his opinion this time, for the hand that claps down on your shoulder is searing in its disappointment. You almost wish it was just a disembodied limb and not your boss, who ushers you away from the front with a beaming grin that’s strained for show. 

“Walk with me.”

It’s not a suggestion. You’ve been in waist-deep water with Fellow plenty of times before. Judging by his unsmiling tone, the water’s way past your head.

Luckily, you know when to keep your mouth shut. Advantageous as that is, it doesn’t save you from the trip to the back room. The curtains have never felt more like the bars in a prison cell when he parts them for you to step through.

“What’s the first rule all employees must follow when working at this store?”

You drop down into the electric chair—an old stool that stands tall in this make-believe interrogation chamber. It’s very reminiscent of stand-up comedy. A shame you fail to demonstrate an iota of comedic relief when you give your answer to your executioner.

“The first rule? Let’s see…” You count all the possibilities on your fingers. “Don’t accept donations from rich brats. Never entertain lengthy conversation with cops, or else they’ll start doing their job. Send all annoying customers to Rollo because he doesn’t care enough to let them get under his skin. Send the chatty ones to Skulls. Love and cherish (Name) always. Yeah, that just about sums it up.”

Fellow gives you an unamused frown. You squirm under the oppressive weight of silence blanketing the air. That’s more threatening than Gidel with his squeaky hammer.

“Am I forgetting something?”

“Respect. I don’t care how much it pains you to lick the boots of that sorry lot, but when you’re working under this roof the customer is always right.” He lifts his hand before you can object. “Even when they’re wrong. Laugh at their idiocy all you want, but refrain from doing so in public. So, Miss (Name), I expect you to uphold a shred of courtesy to even the most troublesome customers. Loath as I am to admit it, it pays in spades to be mindlessly kind and subservient. I should know. This is a business, and a successful business model dictates that we lavish the customer with enough appreciation to ensure they’ll come running back year after year.” 

“Not like they have a choice when this is the only Halloween store in the middle of the mountains.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. “I was only saying what everyone was thinking. Skulls already told me he wasn’t into her. I saved her from the inevitable heartbreak.”

“By tearing her heart apart before he could?” He raises a bushy brow. “A lie would’ve eased that burden.”

“Oh, so the rules just don’t apply when it’s you? Not very fair or courteous if you ask me.”

Fellow shrugs off the stiffness in his shoulders and pulls up a chair. He points his cane at you. “You’re a scholar, are you not? Full of brains and bursting with brilliance.” It takes all of your restraint to nod instead of giving him the spiel he isn’t asking for. “So what’s this really about?”

Wait, he makes a point. Why did I say that? Who cares if some rando likes Skulls? It’s not my business.

“It’s nothing—” you start to say, but it’s Gidel’s insistent prodding that draws Fellow’s eye.

“Hmm? What’s this?”

He plucks the notebook from Gidel’s sleeved hands and skims through the pages. He’s humming like he’s about to stumble upon another one of his useless diagnoses. If he calls you lovestruck, you’ll have no choice but to knock him out and diagnose him concussed. Fellow snaps his fingers.

“What? What is it?” You lean forward, expecting something terrifying.

Fellow flips the notebook to reveal a shakily drawn heart. It’s scribbled halfway in with pink crayon. On the next page, amidst Gidel’s handwriting practice, are doodles that could only come from Skully.

“I don’t get it. What am I looking at?”

“An affection chart, would you call it?” He glances at Gidel, who points to the page and nods. “An estimation of affection earned over the course of this work season. He’s more diligent than I thought.”

Gone is his chastising tone. The interrogation room quickly shifts into that of a not-so-clinical doctor’s office.

Oh, great. Dr. Malpractice is in. Just my luck.

“What’s that, Gidel? You also think he isn’t one to give up so easily? Well, that’s our skeleton!” Fellow hums and strokes his chin. “It’s as we all assumed, really. If we’d placed bets, we’d all be receiving the payout.”

“How comforting to know my boss and coworkers were ready to bet on—what?—utter nonsense?”

“It’s certainly not nonsense to him.”

The notebook now in your hands, you flick to the next page and find an assortment of poetic lines amidst Gidel’s own practiced handwriting. Was he…anticipating a change in dynamic this season?

Upon closer inspection it becomes clear that these lines are all the start to something you’ve been hiding from: I wish to share with you the secrets in my heart… Your loveliness outshines even the sun. There is no competition If I could have just one moment of your time to myself, you might finally know of my bittersweet affliction affections.

There are dozens of lines scribbled in swooping cursive and scratched out. All work-in-progress variations of what was to be a patchwork love confession.

“No surprises there,” Fellow says, taking the notebook from your limp hands. “We’ve all had a thought that he might fancy you.”

There’s a punchline to latch onto somewhere in his words, but you can’t seem to find it. You don’t want to if it means you’ll have to wade through the waters of Skully’s love—a love you’ve never been on the receiving end of before.

This is messy. Of course it is. Love is always messy. This is why I don’t do it.

That’s a lie, isn’t it? At least, it’s not the full truth.

You suck in breath through your teeth and release it with a low, agonized hiss. “I need a smoke.”

“Gidel, would you be a dear and assist Mr. Rollo at the front?” 

Armed with his hammer and resolute determination, Gidel sees both of you off with a salute. Under the veil of a fifteen-minute break, you and Fellow slip out the back door.

With the grey clouds bunched in the sky, the frosty air grabs at your face like little pinpricks from a needle. You shake off the shiver that threatens to roll through your body and instead focus on popping your casket open. A cigarette poised at your lips, you cup your hands to cover the flame as Fellow takes care to light it. You do the same for him, and within no time you’re standing with your backs to the brick, smoke slithering up to disperse in a frigid zephyr.

You pull the cigarette away from your mouth to speak. “What do you think about love?”

His nose scrunches up as if it’s a particularly odious question. “Love, huh? On a commercial scale, it sells lots of chocolates and teddy bears to the brats foolish enough to believe in sappy stories of true love. Speaking of which, I’m considering opening the shop for other holidays. What say you about taking up work here during the season of Cupid?”

“Oh, now that’d be a right laugh. And our uniforms will be wings and halos. Rollo’ll have no choice but to follow his true calling and become an angel.”

He barks out a laugh. “Quite the angelic ingenuity you have!”

“Ha. Yeah. Awfully angelic, isn’t it?”

He notices your bitter smile then and clears his throat. Smoke comes trailing out.

“You’re moping about something that’s out of your control, dearie.”

Momentarily stunned, you snap your head up to give him a bewildered look. He offers you a smile and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your normally insincere boss appear so…not insincere.

“When you’re in the business long enough, you learn to pick up on tells.”

“Tells?”

“A little somethin’ that gives you insights into a person’s thoughts and feelings. Think of it like a magnifying glass that zooms in on the tiny details of a big picture. You, Miss (Name), are fixing me with plenty of confusion! But you’re leaning closer; you expect to be told something that may sway you, and you know I, masterful salesman—ahem! Masterful empath—yes, that’s right—that I am, I shall provide just that.”

“That’s less of a tell, though. It’s just my curiosity getting the best of me.”

“Ah, but you’ve always done this whenever something or someone piques your interest.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly freed from the immersion. “Don’t sell me a lie, Fellow.”

“’Tis only a lie if the liar is the first to believe it.” 

“And do you?”

“Not at all, for this is a truth that comes right from my heart!” He wraps his arm around you and gestures with his cane, spelling out a vision you can’t yet see in sparkling lights. “Picture it—a life with that dear someone! Who is it you see?”

You gaze past the flourish at his fingertips and picture dozens of people all at once, each one flashing into your mind and then dissolving like short-lived fireworks. 

“Well, Rollo and I aren’t gonna stop living together anytime soon.”

“Then perhaps that is love.”

“And Skully and I are…something.”

“Even that, too, is love.”

You turn your head to stare at him, unimpressed. He hums and returns the cigarette to his lips. “You have no concept of love, do you, Fellow?”

“You and I…” His chuckling grows more sheepish by the second, and he drops his arm to his side. You read the gesture as a submissive defeat. “We’re on the same sinking ship.”

“How nice,” you mutter, sarcastic. “I’m not sharing my door with you when that ship finally goes down. But whatever—I’ll bite. If my ‘tell’ is leaning in close, what’s yours?” 

“That’s a trade secret.”

“So evasion via flowery speech. Got it.”

Fellow laughs. Even though it wasn’t your intention to joke, you feel yourself cracking a smile. 

“Then what about Skully?”

“That boy…” Fellow rubs his chin in thought. “I’d say he looks at you like you’re the only one in the world.”

“That’s not a tell. That’s an assumption. A baseless one, at that.”

“His pupils dilate more for you than they do for any one of us.”

“Ew. These observations feel so stalkerish.”

“I don’t need the full story to know what’s in that lover boy’s heart.” Before you can provide context, he shakes his head. “In fact, I don’t want the full story. Keep those smutty details to yourself.”

“And here I thought you were one of the girls, Fellow.” You smirk at him. “Don’t wanna hear how Skulls and I went at it like rabbits?”

Fellow pulls a face. “Your ability to be so shamelessly candid is…a skill. Whether it’s impressive or even remotely useful leaves much open for debate. But, no, I think you’d benefit from the increase in reading comprehension after reconsidering that exchange.”

The sardonic laugh sticks in your throat. You’d take offense at that backhanded comment if he wasn’t right. Technically.

“So what do you recommend I do? I don’t wanna break his heart.”

I care about him.

“Therein lies your answer. If you’re so keen to shatter the hearts of every other twerp, what’s preventing you from doing the same to Skully?”

“Because he’s Skulls, duh. What the fuck is this, Fellow? An elementary-grade brain teaser?”

“You’re the scholar,” he says like it’s common sense. “Use that beautiful brain of yours to work out a solution.”

“Gee. Thanks a bunch, Professor.”

“If you want my advice,” he adds, puffing out smoke, cigarette balanced between his fingers, “you should start being honest with yourself and what you want. No more lying. It’s all you brats do nowadays…” He clicks his tongue, only half-disappointed.

You elbow him harshly. “Your age is showing, Gramps.”

“I resent that! I’m still plenty young. Moreover, it wounds me to be demoted to a nursing home in the span of seconds.”

Gazing out at the gravel road, you recall the day you and Skully spun around in waltz. It was a dance meant to shake loose the nerves that had gripped you from the first clap of thunder. It’s only been a few weeks since that magical evening, yet the memory feels even more distant. It’s as if the world has split in two, placing you and Skully on opposite sides.

The silence seeps into your skin, invading your brain like a parasite. You think back on yesterday and realize it’s taken on the dewy quality of a dream. When you close your eyes, you can still see Skully hunched over you, the look in his eyes so full of devotion. As if laying with you was something religious—as if you were a deity in need of a disciple.

What I want… Huh.

“Well, I believe that just about does it!” Fellow announces, stubbing out his cigarette. “Quite the chat we’ve had, but there’s much to be done inside. Come along now.”

Comforted by the whoosh-whooshing of the wind, you follow his lead and drive your cigarette into the dirt. Your voice is almost swallowed in the breeze. “Thanks, Fellow.”

“Is this what I think it is?” He takes hold of your arm, lifting it up to view the gaping, coin-sized hole in the sleeve.

“Another one? It’s never-ending with this sweater!” you lament, shaking your head. “I really should throw it out. It’s way past its expiration.”

Each multi-patterned patch has been carefully sewn into the rips and tears, emptiness mended via Fellow’s nurturing hand. His needlework was sloppy in the beginning—when this sweater was a size too big and you’d just started at the shop—but now you’ve grown into it and so, too, has the love worn into the wool.

“Not real wool,” Fellow would say while you sat patiently and he worked his magic, “but then no one asks the worth of fool’s gold when they’re too blinded by its shine.”

“We’ll have to get that patched up,” he says instead, brushing off your previous remark. You won’t mention it, but something tells you he’s grown attached to this relic of a sweater. It’s been through a lot, battered frequently and now boasting conflicting colors and wild repairs. “No employee of mine will go around in tatters.”

You lift your hands and laugh. “You gotta admit. I did a damn good job taking care of it for so many years.”

“I’m surprised you even held onto it. It’s not worth much.”

“Maybe not to you with its fake wool.” You grab at the hem to admire the pilling. “But, believe it or not, this has become my comfort sweater.”

Fellow huffs out a disbelieving breath. “Feeling sentimental is about as valuable as a rock.”

“And when you split that rock open, there’s a possibility you’ll find jade. Don’t judge a book and all that, remember?”

“Yes, yes. Enough with the antique wisdom. Now in you go.” Rolling his eyes at the heavens above, Fellow prods you through the doorway with his cane.

You miss the affection that fights for a place on his face, softening all of his rough edges. Edges that have eroded and sharpened in the name of survival. 

That, too, is love.

“Whatcha writing?”

As soon as your voice invades his ears, Skully angles his body away out of protective instinct. His arms shift to cover the open pages of a leather-bound journal. Dry lips set in a thin line, he narrows his eyes at you.

“Ooh, is it a secret? Maybe something dirty? It’s gotta be if you’re so intent on hiding it. You can tell me. I won’t snitch.”

Just then, a thick packet of student council paperwork comes down upon your head. The assailant? Rollo Flamme—your new roommate and recurring headache.

“Fellow, can you please exercise your power as boss and fire her?” he asks, readying his arm for another punishing thwap.

His noncommittal response floats over from between the shelves. “Unfortunately, no.”

“What?! Hey!” You round on Rollo, matching his glower with equal ferocity. “Not my fault we applied to the same place. Why don’t you quit instead? That option ever occur to you, brainiac?”

“To think I have the misfortune of sharing a living space and now a job with a bad-tempered nuisance such as yourself…”

“I hope you know I’m so not gonna vote for you when you run for president.”

“I won’t need your measly vote.” Pride flashes in his eyes. “But I thank you for making your stance clear.”

Having caught wind of this incessant bickering, Gidel wanders over to you and, taking hold of your hand, forces you to lock fingers with Rollo. You remain trapped in a silent staring match with him until, eventually, you break away with a huff. Rollo cleans his hand with his handkerchief.

“We won’t fight anymore in the store, Gidel.”

“It’s (Name) who carelessly picks fights.”

“What was that, Snow Fright?!”

“You! Have you no respect?!”

Gidel frowns at both of you, and that’s your cue to hush up and feign friendship.

“Sorry, sorry.” Hoping to placate him, you wrap your arm around Rollo and lean most of your weight on him. He shrivels at the contact. “Starting today, we’re besties!”

He peers between you, assessing the validity of this claim, before an approving smile perks on his lips. As soon as he’s turned his back, though, you’re distancing yourself from Rollo. He returns to reviewing his paperwork, prim as ever, and soon your attention falls on a very gloomy Skully.

You rest your elbows on the counter. “Are you keeping a diary?”

It seems like he won’t answer you—he’s the silent, brooding type you’ve noticed—but then he snaps his journal shut and addresses you. 

“I’m detailing my plans for Halloween.”

“Ooh. Nice, nice.” He doesn’t reply, so you take the initiative even though it’s obvious he isn’t interested in conversation. “So what do these plans of yours entail?”

Again, he levels you with an uncertain frown. “I’m going to spend Halloween in desolate solitude, enshrouded in darkness with naught but a singular pumpkin lantern.”

“Uh…huh.” You nod like you understand, but it sounds patently absurd. “That’s it? Sounds…historic.”

“Naturally. This is a town-honored tradition.”

Your nose wrinkles. “And that’s it?”

“I beg your pardon?” He tilts his head at you like a spider trying to make sense of the creature wound in its web.

“You’re not going to throw a party? You must decorate for Halloween at least, right? Or what about candy? That’s practically a staple for any holiday. Halloween without candy is like an addict without their fix.”

Appalled, Skully stares at you. You’re unprepared to face the brunt of his uncompromising attitude, and the subsequent harangue almost knocks you off your feet. 

“How could you say such things? Halloween is a time meant for reflection and contemplations of mortality. It’s to be celebrated with absolute simplicity: in silence, in darkness, and alone. There will be no games or other fatuous nonsense like candy and decorations. It’s a solemn occasion! Absolutely no parties. It would be a disservice to such a sacred occasion by even entertaining thoughts of those noisy, disrespectful displays. It’s about fear, nightmares, and tradition.”

“Right.” You give a conciliatory nod. It’s obvious his opinion isn’t going to be swayed, but you’re nothing if not the most persistent of pains. “Well, once you’re done with that, how about you join Rollo and me for a good, old-fashioned party in the woods? It’ll be my first Halloween in this sleepy town. I’ve gotta do something to make it memorable!”

Skully blinks at you. “Did you not just hear me? Halloween is—”

“And where do you get the confidence to lump me in with your plans?” Rollo interjects, peering at you from over the top of his files.

“Because I know your socially inept ass has nothing better to do.” You slink over to him and pluck the paperwork out of his hands, which earns you an indignant shout of, “Hey!” from him. “Consider it a roommate-coworker bonding exercise. We’re a team—at least as far as splitting rent goes—so we’ve gotta stick together. From now on, it’s peace and love.” To illustrate this point, you form a heart with your hands and wink at the unsmiling Rollo.

His repugnance is palpable, but that isn’t going to deter you from a good time.

“So how about it, Skulls? Can I call you that?”

He hesitates and then opens his mouth. Three consecutive knocks tumble out instead. Pulled from the pupa of a vivid dream, a slimy insect spreading its wings, you blink your eyes open against the harsh shine of morning’s light. There’s another set of knocks on the door and you sink under the blankets, hoping to block the noise out. 

Rollo’s voice sails into your room from next door. “It’s your turn to greet the mystery visitor.”

“That’s bullshit,” you grumble into your pillows, hugging one of them to your chest. “You do it! I’m not wearing pants.”

“Then put some on! I answered the door last time.”

You groan loud enough so Rollo will hear and know what a hassle this is for you before sliding out of bed. Your initial reluctance is replaced with annoyance as soon as more knocking resounds, this time a touch impatient. Stepping into your shorts, you yank them up and slide your feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers. You catch sight of the time and sigh.

It’s way too early. Don’t people enjoy sleeping in on their weekends anymore?

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold on!”

You pull a sweater over your head on your way through the hall and then, smoothing the very wrinkled front down, rip the door open to meet a finely dressed Skully. He must be on his way to work, for his bicycle is propped against a tree. You peer past him at the backpack and Jack Skellington-themed helmet hanging from the handlebars. And then you look back at him. His arms are twisted behind his back, hiding something unwieldy.

“Oh. Uh, hey.”

“G-Greetings! Did I wake you? My apologies if I did.”

“Not at all. I was already up.” You spare a glance at the hall and, sensing Rollo’s going to spend a few more minutes tucked in his room, you step out onto the stoop and shut the door. “I’m glad you’re here. I think we should talk if you have time.”

“Yes, of course! That’s actually why I’ve come.” He produces a heart-shaped wreath of flowers and holds it out to you. Half-concealed by the autumnal blooms, he attempts a shy smile. “I’m very sorry for that day. I crossed a boundary and it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable. I do hope you’ll forgive me. I’ve made this for you in hopes of conveying my sincerity.”

You take it from him and admire the imperfect heart. “You…made this? It’s beautiful.”

He nods, bashful. “It took me a few days to gather and prepare the flowers. I would’ve come much sooner. Alas.”

You turn it over for a perfunctory inspection. He took the time to make this by hand and then deliver it to me in person.

“Skulls, it’s not your fault. None of this is. It’s mine.” Before he can object, you shake your head at him. “I should’ve known better. I thought we were on the same page and because of that I was willing to fool around, but your feelings don’t align with mine. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a misunderstanding on my end. So I’m the one who’s sorry.”

You cringe at the thorny apology. Most of that sounded better in your head.

“I’m not hurt. I… I could never be. Not when you’ve treated me with so much kindness.” He averts his gaze and speaks in a softer tone. “Not when you understand me. So…um. I wouldn’t mind continuing this. Like what you did with Salad Fingers.”

Anyone with a shred of common sense would balk at his suggestion of casual sex after learning the context, which is precisely why you’re quick to shut that notion down.

“Friends with benefits doesn’t work like that.”

“But… But it does. Am I misunderstanding something? Forgive me. I’ve never done this before.”

“The whole point of friends with benefits is that it’s completely loveless. No romance. No strings attached. No expectations for anything outside of the bedroom. But you’re in love, Skulls. It’s not gonna work. If anything, it’ll only hurt you more.”

“But I’m not hurt,” he insists. “I won’t get hurt. I can do it. Please, (Name), believe in me. I love you. I’d do anything for you.”

Your stomach lining curdles, and amidst the internal unrest Fellow’s words only serve to gut you further: You should start being honest with yourself and what you want.

How can you do that when you don’t even know the first thing about honesty?

“That’s exactly why it’s a recipe for disaster. You…love me—” you choke around that sentence— “and I… Listen, Skulls, I’m flattered. I really appreciate you and everything you’ve done, but I’m not going to sleep with you again when I know it’s just gonna make things worse.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with it?”

“Because it’ll complicate things.”

“Then… So then we can compromise and avoid that! Surely that’s a possibility? It won’t change our friendship.”

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not. I promise you.”

“I am. I might.”

Skully drags his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand what’s so difficult. If you love someone, you should be willing to do anything for them—”

“Not at the cost of your own happiness and well-being.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he shouts, and you flinch back. Skully winces and tries again. “My… My happiness… You’re my happiness. I was all alone before you moved here—nothing more than a quiet, transparent existence. I thought my peers were foolish and thick-headed. They could never understand me. Not like you do. You were my first friend. You mean so much to me. That’s why I want to do this.”

It feels like you won’t get anywhere with him, going back and forth like this, and if you raise your voice to match his the neighbors might poke their heads out. You don’t want to cause a scene. You don’t want to break his heart. You don’t want to do any of this.

But you have to.

“You wanna know why this won’t work? You want a clear example?” You shake the wreath at him and a few petals flutter loose. “This. This is done out of love. Your poems about me were written out of love. Everything you’ve just said is love. That defeats the whole point of casual! If we repeat what we did, it will hurt because I don’t love you. And if we do it again and again, you’re going to fall harder and it’ll end terribly when I can’t give you the things you want or need from me.”

The scowl brewing on his face freezes. You realize your delivery was far from gentle. It shows in the tears that have started to gather in the corners of his eyes. He looks like a kicked puppy. Regret swells in your chest.

“Wait, hold on. I didn’t mean—fuck. Skulls, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I like you. It’s just that—”

I can’t love you. I’m terrified.

“No, I understood quite well,” he manages over a voice crack. “Even you…” 

You don’t hear the rest of that sentence. In an effort to soften the verbal blow, you try a lighthearted tone. “If it makes you feel any better, a girl came by looking for you a few days ago.”

A girl I chased off for some reason.

Skully doesn’t reply. On rusted hinges, he turns away from you and carries on down the row of doors. You hesitate. Should you say something? What else can you say that won’t dig the knife even deeper into his heart? Devastation chomps its jaws around your jugular. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before. You’re used to breaking off spiraling situationships and cutting ties with obsessed bed partners.

This feels more like the end to a cherished friendship.

The door creaks open before the tidal wave of tragedy can wash over and drown you completely. “I heard yelling. Is everything all right?” Rollo spies Skully pulling his bike along the path. His attention lands on the wreath next. “Ah.”

“That…didn’t go how I wanted it to.”

“I don’t suspect it would even if the circumstances were different.”

“I shouldn’t have fucked around like that.”

“I’m certain he would’ve told you eventually. Either way, this is a conversation you needed to have.”

“Felt more like a breakup.” You wilt against the doorframe. “Fuuuck. I ruined everything. I was so mean. I told him I didn’t love him.”

“Well, you don’t.” When you don’t add further support to his claim, he stares at you. “You don’t, right? Or am I mistaken?”

What does it mean to be in love? How do I know that’s what this is? What even is love?

“Yeah. No, yeah. He’s just a friend. That’s all.”

“It’s unfortunate. Hopefully things will sort themselves out.” Neither of you are particularly skilled in the art of comfort, but you’re grateful Rollo’s making an effort to extend an olive branch. “You must be hungry. I’ll start on breakfast.”

That snaps you out of your head. “Absolutely not!” You push through the door to beat him to the kitchen. “I need way more than your twelve grapes and two croissants.”

“I’ll have you know it’s sixteen, and I only eat that for lunch!”

“You eat like it’s wartime. No one’s flying overhead, soldier.”

He scoffs, but an amused smile pricks on his lips. “Forgive me for trying to offer you something to ease your distress.”

Sun cuts in through the curtains, and yet you can’t seem to shake the cold.

What do I want? Am I allowed to want something—to want someone—when I’m so…me?

You can replace that pronoun with a dozen self-loathing adjectives. Through the jumbled fusion your heart garners yet another chip.

third part.

[kjack89]

Background Noise

It's been so long I almost don't remember how to do this.

Hiiiii sorry I've been MIA, it's an election year. You know how it goes. Anyway, here's a little something as proof of life. Love you all for sticking with me. I'll be back when I can.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship. And all of the fluff.

Enjolras finished the sentence he was typing and sat back in his chair, reading through the paragraph he’d just written with a furrowed brow. Well, it wasn’t the best writing he’d ever done, but considering it was a filler paragraph in the middle of a letter to local elected officials that would almost certainly never be read by anyone other than some low level staffer or intern, it would have to do.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face, his hand stilling when he caught what someone was saying nearby. “...Despite the immense popularity of the campaign, sales of Energizer batteries actually went down during the years that the ads ran. Duracell claimed—”

Enjolras lowered his hand to frown at Grantaire, seated at a nearby table in the back room of the Musain and still blithely rambling without looking up from his phone. “What are you doing?” he interrupted, equally parts confused and incredulous.

Grantaire broke off and glanced up at him, and Enjolras noted that he didn’t even have the good grace to look abashed. “Reading the Wikipedia entry for the Energizer Bunny.”

As if that was an even remotely normal thing to be doing. “Why?” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Grantaire shrugged. “Seemed appropriate,” he said cheerfully. “You know, because he—” He broke off, making a face. “It? They?”

“I don’t think the pronouns of a corporate marketing campaign are really relevant,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire raised both eyebrows, amused. “Oh, so respect for pronouns is conditional now. I see how it is.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “I didn’t say that—”

“Anyway,” Grantaire continued, ignoring him, “like I said, seemed appropriate because the Energizer Bunny just keeps on going and going and going and going—”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” Enjolras said waspishly. “But why are you reading it out loud?”

Grantaire just shrugged again. “Why not?”

Honestly, Enjolras wasn’t even sure what answer he expected, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this something that you do often?”

Grantaire scratched his cheek as he considered it. “Define ‘often’.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Grantaire.”

Grantaire grinned, that slightly crooked grin that inevitably heralded him saying something that would piss Enjolras off. “Sometimes, when you’re otherwise occupied and slash or completely lost to the world, it’s a fun little thing I like to do.” His grin widened. “Or at least, it’s fun seeing how long it takes for you to notice.”

It spoke volumes that Enjolras wasn’t even remotely surprised. “Of course.”

“It’s a drinking game,” Grantaire added brightly. “Or at least, I drink while I play it, so that counts, right?”

“Of fucking course,” Enjolras sighed, even less surprised by that. “I should point out that by that logic, and I use the word as loosely as the English language allows, any game you drink while playing is a drinking game.”

Grantaire’s grin sharpened into a smirk. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying! I just think—”

But Enjolras cut him off, far too used to Grantaire’s ability to take a tangent and turn it into a diatribe until someone interrupted him or he otherwise got bored. “As fascinating as it always is to learn how you choose to spend your time, you’re going to have to knock it off.”

“Why?”

Enjolras bit back his immediate response that it was because it was annoying as hell. “Because it’s distracting,” he said instead.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, with a wry twist of his lips. “Heaven forbid I distract the Noble Leader from his all-important work.”

He doffed an invisible cap to Enjolras, who felt strangely tongue-tied and wrong-footed, the way only Grantaire ever seemed to be able to make him. “I didn’t mean—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“I suppose it’s about time I head home, anyway.”

Enjolras glanced down at the time on his phone and then back at Grantaire, frowning. “You’re heading home before midnight?”

“Sorry, did I say head home?” Grantaire asked, draining his beer and setting it back down on the table with a thud to shrug his coat on. “I meant to another bar.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his computer. “That sounds more like it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Grantaire.”

But despite his rather pointed farewell, Grantaire didn’t leave, instead lingering for long enough that Enjolras glanced back up at him, his brow furrowing. Just when he was about to ask what was wrong, Grantaire gave him another smile, smaller and tighter this time. “Goodnight, Enjolras,” he said, finally turning and leaving, dropping his beer bottle in the recycling as he did.

Enjolras stared after him for a long moment before shaking his head to clear it and looking stubbornly back at the letter. Ten minutes of staring at it without adding a single word later, he sighed and shut his laptop with a snap. 

Typical Grantaire, he thought sourly to himself as he grabbed his bag to pack up all of his things, somehow finding a way to annoy him without even being physically present.

He’d just have to try to work on it again the following night, ideally without the dulcet sounds of the Energizer Bunny Wikipedia entry. 

Of course, knowing Grantaire, he’d find a new way to annoy him anyway.

— — — — —

Just as Enjolras suspected, the next night seemed like a repeat of a thousand nights that preceded it. After the Les Amis meeting wrapped up, Grantaire lingered while everyone else dispersed, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet on the chair next to him, sipping from his beer as he scrolled through his phone. 

But at least he was mercifully silent while doing so, which Enjolras would take as a win.

For his own part, Enjolras settled in to finish the letter, all too aware that it needed to go out sometime the next day. He worked better with a deadline, after all, so finishing it up should have been a breeze.

Unfortunately, Enjolras instead found himself unable to concentrate, glancing at his phone and clicking over to Twitter as if it would somehow have updated in the prior thirty seconds. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, and he rubbed his face vigorously with both hands as if that might somehow get him to concentrate.

It didn’t.

Instead, Enjolras sat back in his seat, scowling. He was in his favorite place to do work, he’d had the perfect amount of caffeine so he was alert but not jittery, and yet he couldn’t force himself to actually get anything done. It was almost like something was missing, something in the back of his mind that kept him on task, or—

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he looked over at Grantaire, who was still conspicuously quiet. “That thing you do,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced up at him. “Where you say stupid shit while I’m not paying attention?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said cautiously.

“I realize I didn’t actually define often,” Enjolras said. “So, uh, would you say that this is a daily occurrence?”

Grantaire looked amused. “Would you say that you ignoring me is a daily occurrence?” he asked, saccharine sweet.

“Yes.”

Grantaire grinned. “Well, there’s your answer.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, running a hand across his face before straightening his shoulders. “Right. Well, you can do it again.”

Grantaire’s grin faded, just slightly. “Do what again?” he asked.

“Talk, or read out loud, or whatever other stupid shit you try to get away with without me noticing,” Enjolras said, something resigned in his tone.

Grantaire blinked. “Really?” he asked, equal parts amused and skeptical.

Enjolras shrugged helplessly. “What can I say,” he muttered, well aware he was blushing and equally aware that Grantaire would undoubtedly use this against him at some point in the future, “I’ve apparently gotten so good at tuning you out after all these years that you’ve essentially become a really effective white noise machine.”

He half-expected him to feign offense at that, but Grantaire just laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Well, at least you can no longer say I’m completely useless,” he said, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, even if he couldn’t quite stop his answering smile.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he agreed. He hesitated before asking, “So will you read to me? Whatever nonsense you’ve been reading, or anything you like?”

Grantaire’s expression softened, just slightly. “For you?” he asked, with none of his usual sardonic sharpness. “I think I can manage that.”

He picked his phone up again and cleared his throat before reading out loud, “Neither Kamala Harris nor Donald Trump is campaigning on the coming ‘tax cliff,’ which is rarely mentioned in their paid messaging or stump speeches. In their only debate, Harris talked about taxes far more than Trump, who only mentioned them twice — once to deny that his tariffs amounted to a “tax” on consumers, and once to promise future tax cuts, without much detail.”

Enjolras had been expecting another stupid Wikipedia entry, or maybe something equally inane from Reddit. He hadn’t expected a news article, and even less a news article about politics, one of many things Grantaire always professed not to care about.

He was out of his chair before he even realized it, crossing over to Grantaire. “Let me see that,” he said, reaching for Grantaire’s phone. Grantaire raised both eyebrows but nonetheless handed it over, standing and crossing his arms in front of his chest as Enjolras scrolled through the article in question, his brow furrowing. He glanced back up at Grantaire. “You were really reading this?”

Grantaire shrugged and reached out for his phone. “How else am I supposed to be able to effectively argue with you?” he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it was as obvious as Grantaire saying God only knew what while Enjolras tuned him out.

Enjolras felt a slow smile stretch across his face, and instead of handing Grantaire his phone back, he closed the space between them and kissed him.

For one long moment, Grantaire was perfectly still, but then he kissed Enjolras back, wrapping his arms around Enjolras waist and opening his mouth against Enjolras’s. 

Then, without warning, Grantaire pulled away. “What?” Enjolras asked, just this side of breathless.

“You need to finish that by tomorrow,” Grantaire said, nodding toward Enjolras’s laptop.

“Are you really trying to be the responsible one right now?” Enjolras asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “I’m not giving you any excuse to blame me, or this, for fucking things up.”

Enjolras scowled. “I wouldn’t—” he started, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he held his hands up and laughed. “Fine, I probably would.”

Grantaire nodded. “And I definitely don’t want to give you a reason not to do that again,” he said, smiling that crooked smile again, and it took everything in Enjolras not to kiss him again. 

“Fine,” he sighed instead, tearing his eyes away. “But I still need you to keep reading something.” He paused and made a face. “Not that article, though, I really don’t need to hear about fucking Trump right now.”

“Fine by me,” Grantaire said, taking his phone back from Enjolras. His thumbs flashed across the keyboard as he typed something and then he settled back down into a chair, one conspicuously closer to Enjolras and farther from his beer. 

Again he cleared his throat, only this time, he read, “The Constitution promises liberty to all within its reach, a liberty that includes certain specific rights that allow persons, within a lawful realm, to define and express their identity. The petitioners in these cases seek to find that liberty by marrying someone of the same sex and having their marriages deemed lawful on the same terms and conditions as marriages between persons of the opposite sex.”

Enjolras would’ve recognized those words anywhere. "Obergefell v. Hodges?” he asked, amused, shaking his head fondly. “God, you’re such a nerd."

Grantaire glanced up at him. “Takes one to know one,” he said, sticking his tongue out, and Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head once more before finally returning to his work as Grantaire continued reading, his voice a soothing background to the sound of Enjolras’s typing, the way it had been for years now without him ever noticing.

But he noticed now.

And since he did notice, he had a brand new motivation to get through his work in a timely manner. 

And judging by the grin that Grantaire still wore, he knew it, too.

[drvirgus]

Mute!

Non-Idol! Hanni X Mute! Reader

Description: Life as a mute girl in university: How does Y/n navigate her life, especially when she has to work on a project with her crush, one of the popular kids on campus? Can Y/n find a way to express her feelings?

Warnings: Trauma; strong language; kys/kms jokes; insults; bad family 😔 (kind of abuse?)

Chapter: I´m so Dumb.... (Fully- Written)

Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hwang Yeji.

A name to be envied, pitied, and a name everyone knew all too well.

Hwang Yeji. A child who wanted everything.

Every bit of attention? She got it. Every toy? She got it. Everything she ever dreamed of? She got it.

Even at the age of three, when her older brother made a new friend in kindergarten, Yeji felt compelled to steal that friend away. She did everything to make it happen. She repeatedly bought him little gifts, chose him as her partner for games, and whined about it at home.

But once she had that friend, she played with him for a while before eventually discarding him.

That had always been Yeji's way of navigating through life. Over and over, she needed variety, whether or not it involved her brother.

Yeji never thought her heart would be broken.

She was always the one breaking others' hearts, regardless of whether they were male or female.

Yet somehow, someone managed to do it.

Hwang Yeji's heart was broken.

After what was, for Yeji, a long relationship of seven months, Choi Jisu succeeded in breaking Hwang Yeji's heart.

She accomplished what no one else had.

Hwang Yeji was hurt, shattered, and her anger and bitterness ran deep to her core. She wanted nothing more than to project her pain onto someone else.

If others suffered, Yeji would feel better.

And who would make a better target for that than Kim Y/n? A mute, manipulatable little girl? A girl who wanted nothing more than to be seen?

But it didn’t go quite as Yeji hoped.

Sure, she managed to hurt Kim Y/n’s heart... but it wasn’t broken.

Of course... how could you break a heart that was already shattered?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeji wanted to cheer Y/n up, to piece her heart back together only to break it again, stomp on it, and claim Y/n for herself.

Yeji had developed an obsession.

But how could Y/n dare? Why didn’t she want anything to do with Yeji? How did she even allow herself to go out with someone other than Yeji?

But Yeji owned Y/n. She was Yeji’s and Yeji’s alone.

How could she manage to reclaim Y/n?

Rescue her.

Money was never an issue for Yeji. Luckily, Yeji was her father's favorite child. Especially since her brother came out as gay.

It wasn’t particularly difficult to find Y/n’s partner on the trip. Paying him off was even easier.

Yeji reveled in the sight.

Y/n all alone by that tree, with the rain pouring down mercilessly, looking utterly exhausted. Simply helpless.

Yeji’s heart skipped a beat as she held her umbrella over Y/n and looked down at her. Those sad eyes looked up at Yeji.

Yeji didn’t want to feel anything.

She just wanted to break Y/n to forget her own heartbreak.

But... ever since she had known Y/n, she hadn’t thought about Choi Jisu even once. Her head was full of Y/n...

This wasn’t love, she knew that.

Or was it?

Yeji bit the inside of her cheek when she saw how Y/n looked a bit disappointed upon seeing her. Yeji knew exactly who Y/n was hoping for. Y/n was waiting and hoping for Pham Hanni. Pham Hanni was supposed to save her.

Yeji didn’t like that one bit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeji was slowly going crazy.

She wanted Y/n all to herself. So why didn’t Y/n want her? Yeji had everything anyone could ever dream of.

She was rich, beautiful, muscular, tall, and most of all, she was good in bed. So why didn’t Y/n want her?!

Every time Y/n texted her, a glimmer of hope would light up.

Y/n belonged to Yeji.

But that hadn’t been true for a long time...

Y/n now belonged to Hanni...

Yeji couldn’t accept that. Not now and probably not ever.

Yeji didn’t know exactly what she felt for Y/n. Was it possessiveness? Obsession? Did she just want to ruin Y/n? Or... was it really love?

None of that mattered at the moment.

Y/n had left Hanni to come to Yeji.

Just like she should...

“There you are,” Yeji said with a broad smile as she looked down at the slightly shorter girl. Yeji could feel her heart skip another beat. One hand on the door handle, she opened the door wider for Y/n.

Y/n exhaled and stepped inside. Her face showed a mix of annoyance and concern. Almost immediately, she held up her phone so Yeji could read the words on the screen: “What’s the emergency?”

Yeji had to fight hard not to let a grin form on her lips. Her eyes took on a slightly sadder look. Y/n really wanted nothing to do with Yeji, did she?

And yet...

Why else would she come to her late at night?

Yeji pulled Y/n into her arms. She closed her eyes as she deeply inhaled the scent of the younger girl. “I just wanted to see you. That was the emergency,” Yeji confessed quietly. She could feel Y/n trying to push her away, but Yeji didn’t allow it. She kept Y/n tightly in her arms without looking at her.

“I know exactly what you feel for me, Y/n,” Yeji whispered as her hands slowly slid down Y/n’s back. “I know Hanni doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t satisfy you,” Yeji murmured, her lips close to Y/n’s ear.

An amused snort escaped her nose as she felt Y/n shudder. Unaware that Y/n, for the first time since knowing Yeji, felt a sense of disgust.

Hwang Yeji was just disgusting.

“Remember?” Yeji asked quietly as she finally looked at Y/n’s face. She immediately froze when she saw the slightly disgusted expression on her ex-girlfriend’s face. Yeji’s mouth opened.

She recognized that face.

That’s exactly how Choi Jisu had looked at her....

Yeji felt the bitterness and anger she had kept inside for years erupting. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Y/n slap her hands away and then quickly tap on her phone, “You’re just disgusting.”

Yeji hissed, “Oh, come on. Don’t be so prudish! You belong to me and me alone, understand?! Not Hanni and not anyone else! You’re mine!” Yeji said, visibly angry. Her jaw was tense.

Y/n shook her head. Y/n was disappointed. Disappointed in Yeji but mostly disappointed in herself. Why had she allowed Hwang Yeji to enter her life? Especially after she had already hurt Y/n once before?

Kim Y/n... was just plain stupid.

Yeji hissed as she saw Y/n open the chat with her girlfriend Hanni. A fuse burned through, and suddenly she grabbed Y/n’s phone, holding it out of reach as Y/n, mouth open, tried to retrieve her smartphone.

Yeji laughed mockingly. Her eyes were still narrow and full of rage. “You’re pathetic,” Yeji simply said as she shook her head. Her grip on the phone tightened before she threw it to the floor. Her face was furious. “You’re mine! Only mine! Just mine!”

Stunned, Y/n looked first at her shattered phone and then at Yeji. “No,” Y/n said, making Yeji’s eyes widen.

This was the first time Yeji had ever heard a word from Y/n.

Yeji suddenly smiled broadly and grabbed Y/n’s arms. “Y-You can talk?!” she asked, visibly surprised.

It was almost as if Hwang Yeji... was insane.

“Y-You can talk,” Yeji said again, a bit happier, as she pulled Y/n into her arms and held her tightly. “God... I love you so much.”

But no matter how many times Y/n wanted to hear those words, it was the wrong person speaking them. The smaller girl swallowed and, with a firm and strong push, shoved Yeji away from her. Her eyes were wide as she spoke with her hands.

“You’re crazy.”

Yeji didn’t understand. She didn’t understand what Y/n was signing. She didn’t understand why she was happy that Y/n spoke. She didn’t understand why Y/n didn’t want her.

She just didn’t understand why Y/n was leaving her...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kim Y/n was just plain stupid...

Why on earth did she go to Yeji? Why did she ruin the beautiful evening with Hanni? Why did she ever think Yeji could be a good person?

She didn’t know.

Kim Y/n wasn’t someone who cried. She never cried...

She didn’t cry when her grandmother died, she didn’t cry when she got lost in the woods, she didn’t cry when she became mute.

But now she cried...

It felt like all the sorrow and frustration that had built up in her over the years was finally being released. Her tears seemed endless.

She didn’t deserve Hanni...

Y/n didn’t deserve love...

Even when an older woman approached Y/n and spoke to her, her tears wouldn’t stop. She cried. Loudly.

Fortunately, she knew Hanni’s number by heart. It was the only number she knew by heart...

She would lie awake at night, staring at Hanni’s number, hoping that Hanni would text her. Over and over, she stared at Hanni’s number until the digits burned into her brain.

Y/n texted Hanni. Her vision was blurred by her tears, but she managed to write to her girlfriend. The only number Y/n could ever remember...

It didn’t take long for her to see Hanni. Y/n’s tears kept flowing. Her ears rang, and headaches plagued her.

In the car.

At Hanni’s house.

No matter where she was, Y/n kept crying.

Over and over, she gestured with her hands.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.”

Unaware that Hanni understood everything.

Hanni looked concerned, hurt, but most of all, compassionate. She wasn’t angry. Not a single bit. Her hands gripped Y/n’s waist, “What happened?” Hanni asked softly as she cupped Y/n’s face, wiping the tears away.

It was the first time Hanni had ever seen Y/n cry.

The first time Y/n cried at all.

It didn’t take long for Y/n, now somewhat angry at herself, to explain in sign language what had happened. Hanni remained silent. She just watched Y/n. Hanni’s jaw tightened. Her hands balled into fists as her nostrils flared.

Pham Hanni wasn’t the type to get angry. But right at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to scream in rage. She wanted nothing more than to punch Yeji in the face.

Y/n belonged to no one!

Y/n wasn’t an object that could be owned...

Hanni smiled gently when she saw the tears in Y/n’s eyes. “I love you,” she said, and suddenly Y/n froze. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly as she looked at her girlfriend.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Hanni smiled as she gently shook her head, “I don’t care.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed, “You... understand me?”

Hanni smiled wider as she nodded, “I understand you, Y/n. I love you,” Hanni said as she took a small step toward the mute girl. A smile on Hanni’s face. Her eyes scanned Y/n’s entire face.

“We should break up.”

Hanni laughed as she took Y/n’s hands in hers to stop her from talking about breaking up. Y/n’s mouth opened as she looked into Hanni’s eyes. Y/n’s eyes still filled with tears.

“I love you, Y/n.”

Y/n’s lip quivered.

Those were the words she wanted to hear. The words she needed.

From the right person: Pham Hanni.

"I love you too, Hanni," Y/n whispered softly as she sniffled.

Hanni smiled as she pulled Y/n into her arms, holding her tightly. This was where Y/n belonged. Not with Yeji, but with Hanni. The woman Y/n loved and the woman who loved Y/n back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @sixflame438 @saysirhc @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @somedaydream @wonyoungssi @gtfoiydlyj

[venomsrealgf]

Hiii!

I was wondering if u can do hazard dating fem!reader who was in a really bad abusive relationship that she’s having a ptsd attack but thank fully hazards there to comfort reader 🫶

If ur uncomfortable doing this that’s ok!

Omg hey hey hey. Thank you so much for the request! I had a very fun (not) time writing this because the subject is horrible but i had fun making the abuser eat absolute shit tho. If anyone is suffering from an abusive relationship please tell a trusted loved one, i know it is very hard with all the manipulation and everything but you are strong! and you can survive! You can also vent to me if you need to :) TW: Depression, Eating disorder mention, abusive ex, Story will go into detail with mental/physical abuse. PTSD attack, anxiety attack. I have never experienced PTSD attacks or seen anyone having them so i had to go off on what google offers. Sorry if its badly written!!

NOT PROOF READ!!! (3.5k words i think.) - She doesn’t know how this one big sweet hunk of a man had managed to slither his way past her walls. She thought her defenses would be good enough, she thought no one could ever get past them again. But here she is, walking hand in hand with him. He was chattering about his latest adventure with the phreak gang, being so enthusiastic while explaining every little detail. She loved to listen to him, she actually preferred that as well. She was not the one to open up easily about anything, not about her feelings, her needs, nothing. In the past she was in a relationship with this one guy she fell in love with madly. She would have done anything for him, she really loved him. And at first it seemed like he loved her as much too, their relationship was perfect. They were the sweethearts of their college, the perfect couple, always the prom king and queen. He would spoil her with gifts and compliments, he would take her on expensive dates and bring her along on family trips. Everything was just perfect… Then it all changed in a blink. He would stop showering her with compliments and gifts, obviously she wasn’t with him for the gifts and luxuries… But she also wasn’t with him for those cruel insults he would throw her way. He would insult anything she did, he would negatively comment on her appearance and weight. ‘Why aren’t you taking care of your skin as well as Stacey does? I can already see pimples forming on your cheek.’ ‘You should really start hitting the gym. You’ve gained a bit of weight. I don’t wanna be seen with a pig.’ ‘Get yourself together, I have standards to keep up.’ He would always compare her to the other popular girls, those who were the spoiled rotten kind girls. Blondes with green and blue eyes, having the latest designer clothing and bags. All of this really damaged her self-esteem, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror anymore. All she would see was this hideous monster with all the flaws and imperfections. Worst of all was the fact she knew she should leave him, but every time she tried talking to him he would fire back at her, manipulating her into thinking she needed him and that he was only trying to help her take “better” care of herself. ‘No one would want you in that state, I'm the only one who still wants to help you!’ ‘Please. Do you seriously think any guy would want a pig like you? Be happy I'm even allowing you to stand so close to me.’

And she believed him…

She stayed together with him for at least a year after his cruel personality came to be. Though the insults were not the only problem. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on partying and drinking again with his friends. He would go out to parties, rarely taking her with him, he would make out with other women and sometimes even have one night stands with them. The audacity he had to bring them to HIS house where she also lived. It hurt her so much to see him with another woman. The first time it happened she confronted him the next morning after the random girl had left, she cried out yelling at him. “How could you do this to me???!!” The answer she was met with was a slap to her face. Her eyes wide as she held her cheek, afraid to even look at him again. He started yelling back at her, throwing his hands around in frustration. After many times of asking her to look at him he had enough and took hold of her shoulders forcing her to look at him with her shock filled gaze. “How am I supposed to live with a ridiculous girlfriend who can’t take care of herself AND can’t even fill my needs huh?!!” He yelled at her face, pushing her down on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. She quickly scrambled away from him, jumping straight into her bed, crying into her pillow. Never in her life did she think he would lay his hands on her, hurt her like that. She doesn’t know why she didn’t just leave right then and there, maybe it was the months of manipulation at that point that still kept her under the roof. Or maybe it was the fact he had also gone as far as to threaten her if she ever left him. She was truly stuck and scared for her life. Her mentality had been scarred for good, she was depressed, she felt lifeless. She wanted to die, she wanted out of this situation. Her eyes were dull, no life behind them. She had developed eating disorders due to his comments and she had stopped taking care of herself all together. Her head was filled with nothing except self destructive thoughts and the need to escape this hell. The emotional abuse continued, and was even worse now. He kept on cheating on her with girls to satisfy his own needs, not bothering to even touch her in any way anymore. In his words she was too hideous to even look at. Not that she really cared honestly, she was glad he didn’t pay any attention to her, but still for some reason he didn’t kick her out. As she was one night scrolling through a social platform, looking at everyones happy lives, imagining hers could be like that as well had shen ever met her bf. She decided to go on his account, see what she was up to, what she saw made her heart break even more than it already was. He was posting a lot about her, acting as if he was her savior, making himself seem like an angel. So this is why he sometimes asked her to pose for a picture, the only

times he would give her small kisses or act sweet, the little hope she had began to get, vanished in an instant. She was only a pawn for him to use, she was a prisoner .It was during a shopping trip that the very thing she had been wishing for finally happened. Her bf had decided to take her out shopping for the first time in months, tired of seeing her in the same pair of clothes. She looked at the clothes in the thrift store, yeah he wouldn’t take her to expensive places anymore, apparently she wasn’t worth more than a few bucks to him. Not that she really cared anymore, she was never worth anything to begin with. After the very short shopping session they walked out of the store. She wasn’t really looking where she was walking and accidentally bumped into someone much bigger than her. She fell down on her ass, dropping her bag in the process. “Oh shit! My bad lassie-” The voice said, clearly someone Scottish. She looked up and oh lord the sight she saw. A very tall and frankly very muscular guy. He had blonde hair, his jawline was strong. He had a very stylish leather jacket on him, he was also pretty much half cybernetic. And his eyes… those beautiful orange-ish eyes, so full of life and energy… the complete opposite of hers. She was about to open her mouth and apologize but was cut off by her boyfriend. “Don’t apologize man, she should’ve been looking ahead.” Her boyfriend scoffed, taking hold of her arm and lifting her up rather harshly. “Cmon, apologize to him.” He demanded of her, giving her that look, she knew she would be in trouble later. “I-Im so sorry mister.. It was m-my bad.” She struggled with her words, not used to talking with other people. “It’s al’right. But are ya okay las?” He asked, one eyebrow raised a little bit after witnessing the way that man talked to her. She was surprised. Someone worried about her? Someone asking if she was okay? No no… He must be talking to her boyfriend. She was about to answer again but was stopped with a hard grip on her shoulder, making her wince. “She’s alright. Now go on mate, don't stick your nose into business that ain’t yours.” Her boyfriend said, turning her around to walk off. “Ay, wait up just a second here lass. Yer partner obviously ain’t feeling too well. And based on what I’ve seen by a minute I don’t think yer treatin’ her correct.” He said, stepping closer,

stopping her boyfriend by holding onto his shoulder. “Get your fucking hand off me. She is perfectly fine with me, right babe?” Her bf asked, threateningly. She stared between her boyfriend and the stranger. This could be her chance to escape from his constant torment and abuse, but the thought lingered, his threats made her hesitate a lot. ‘No no… (Name) this is your time. Who cares about his threats, you NEED to get out.’ Her mind would yell at her. “No.. No i'm not fine! He has been tormenting me for ages… I-I need help, please!” She said loudly, escaping from his grasp, her heart beating so fast. “You little fucking bitch! I’ll kill you-” He yelled out, about to punch her, only to be stopped by the strangers hand grasping his wrist. “Will you shut yer pus and get lost dafty.” He said, the threat evident in his voice. Her boyfriend stared at the stranger, his eyes wide. He let out a yell and went to punch the stranger, only to be met by a cybernetic hand to the face, knocking him out cold immediately. She gasped, looking away from the scene, afraid. “Sorry about that wee yin. Had to teach that scabby lass a lesson. Ya alright?” He turned to stare at her, keeping his distance, not wanting to scare the poor girl more. “I- thank you… Thank you so much…” She cried out. “It was nothin’ Could tell he wasn’t treatin’ ya right. The name’s Hazard, what about yus?” The man said, holding out a hand to give a gentle shake, if she wanted to of course. “(Name..)” She gave a weak smile, accepting the handshake.

- That all happened a good two years ago. It took a lot of time for her to open up to the idea of dating again. Hazard never pushed her into anything, nor did he really talk about wanting to be in a relationship with her directly. Of course from the day he met her, he already felt a certain pull towards her. Half a year after they met and started regularly hanging out his feelings truly became clear to him. She on the other hand felt safe for the first time in her life after they began hanging out, but the fear of it all going wrong again made her very scared and wary of everything they did together. It took her a good year before she realized she liked him, she didn’t know if she should pursue her feelings, and talk to him about him. She didn’t even know if he felt the same, she didn’t know if he would want to date someone as scared and vulnerable as her. After a long talk and feelings shared they shared a deep and meaningful hug, and they began dating slowly but surely. He assured her that every step of the way he would respect her boundaries, he would never initiate anything between them, she would have all the power. She respected that, a lot. A few months into their relationship she was ready to open up more about her past with her ex. She told him how he treated her, how her mental health suffered greatly because of him. How she was still struggling with her self esteem and mental problems because his words and actions would forever haunt her. Hazard listened through everything, gave her warm hugs whenever she started breaking down while explaining her story. Telling her it was never her fault and that her imperfections were what made her beautiful. He helped her get onto her feet, helped her with her eating disorder, getting her back to a healthy weight slowly but surely. Her hair got longer and more healthy, her bones slowly getting covered and her skin becoming more colorful. She still struggled with nightmares to this day, but whenever she woke up in tears he was there to wipe them away and calm her down. At the half year mark of their relationship she finally got the courage to kiss him, to let him hold her in a more intimate way, she loved every second of it. It had been so.. so very long since someone had loved her like Hazard did. He never went further than kissing her sweetly, he never even touched her unless she guided his hand somewhere on her body.

Her thoughts got cut off by Hazard patting her on the shoulder, pointing at the cafe they were supposed to eat at. She smiled at him and they went inside, ordering their food and going outside to eat. “Ay. I’m gonna go use the restroom real quick’ ait bonny?” Hazard smiled at her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course darling, I'll wait out here.” She smiled at him, watching as he got up and headed into the cafe. She stared at the scenery around her, looking at all the people walking around and socializing with each other. She felt so happy with Hazard, she felt lucky that she bumped into him when she did, otherwise she feels she would still be trapped or in the worst case scenario dead. As she bit into her croissant, not really paying attention to her surroundings her ears picked up a familiar voice, her heart stopped for a moment, her eyes widening in panic. That voice… no no.. it can’t be. It can't be! She raised her gaze just slightly to see her abusive ex talking with his now possible partner. A really hot one at that, obviously he would only go for the model type girls. She stared for a moment, a mistake she would soon come to regret as his gaze wandered before landing onto her. His mood shifted, happiness turning into anger. She knew that gaze. The look he would always give her whenever he was angry or disappointed with her, the gaze he had when he laid his hands on her. He said something to the girl before walking towards her. No no no no! She panicked, immediately opening her phone and typing a panicked message to Hazard, hoping he would notice it quick enough. Her heart was racing, her anxiety skyrocketing, all the bad memories crashing down around her in an instant. She flinched as she felt a hand slam down in front of her, she almost dropped her phone in the process too but held it close. “Look what we have here. Little piggy out here eating all by herself. Still haven’t been able to let go of the treats huh? No wonder you’ve gained so much weight again!” He laughed mockingly. She couldn’t answer, she couldn’t look at him, the only thing she could do was sit completely still, eyes glued to the ground, shaking. He got irritated fast by her ignoring him, he took hold of her jaw, forcing her face to turn to him.

She screamed out alerting all the other people nearby, some of them continued on and some just stared. “Look at me when I'm talking to you bitch!” He spat at her. She refused to listen to him, this angered her ex and he was about to say something again, only to be lifted off of her into the air. She stared as Hazard held him up high by the collar of his jacket, anger filling her usually sweet and collected boyfriend. A look she had never seen before, and didn’t want to ever either. Her mind blocked out everything he yelled at her ex, she had stopped looking too, she held her head in her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably, she was about to have a breakdown. She heard the sound of a hard punch being thrown at someone and then a table getting smashed. Some people trying to get in between the fight and stop it. And as quickly as it all started it ended. Her ex was bruised and bloody on the ground, his now current girlfriend trying to wake him up, yelling profanities at Hazard. “Haud yer wheesht hackit. Yer boyfriend had it comin’ should’ve never come close to (name) again.” Hazard scoffed, before turning to (Name), seeing her in such a state broke his heart. “Come on bonny, let’s get outta here.” He said. She could only slowly nod as he took hold of her hand leading her away. The car ride was long and silent, Hazard kept looking at her, wanting to make small talk but he could tell she was in a bad place right now. As they finally arrived home she immediately got out of the car and ran inside her apartment, Hazard quickly following after. The moment she got inside her bedroom she fell to her knees breaking down completely, all the panic and years worth of memories breaking free. She cried out loudly, curling up into a small defensive ball, her body shaking like crazy. She couldn’t breathe, all she could hear and see were the memories. She could only hear her ex’s hurtful words, she could only feel the pain he inflicted on her. She was completely dissociated from the real world, being kept as a prisoner in her own memories. A few seconds felt like minutes to her. She was sweating profusely, her heart thumping against her chest.

Hazard ran into her bedroom, kneeling next to her, he didn’t know what to do. He had never seen this before, sure she had small episodes here and then but this was different. This was so much different. He tried to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze but was met by her body twitching violently at the touch and her screaming out.

“STOP! DON���T HURT ME PLEASE!” She would yell, thinking Hazard was her ex. “No no no.. Bonny… It’s just me, you’re fine, you’re alright… I’m here.” Hazard spoke in such a sweet tone, trying to get her to calm down at least a little bit. She was still sobbing, still curled up not responsive. He didn’t give up, he talked to her through it all, he didn’t touch her, he didn’t want to trigger another reaction from her. He just talked, he told her about their old memories together having fun and laughing at stupid things. He talked to her about his gang, the things they do and the embarrassing memories of himself.

She was starting to calm down just slightly, her shaking becoming minimal, her loud cries turning into small sobs here and there. He would praise her for doing so good, for being a strong survivor. It had been almost an hour since her episode began and she was finally beginning to calm down enough for her body to relax. She wasn’t curled up into a tight ball anymore, she was still lying on the floor though, still unable to look at him.

“Yer doin’ so good wee yin. I’m proud of ya.” Hazard smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“H-hazard..?” She mumbled out weakly, lifting herself up just slightly to look at him.

“Yeah bonny? I’m here, whateva you need I’ll get it for ya” Hazard said.

“D-Don’t leave me… please just.. just hold me.” She begged.

He didn’t need to be told twice, he didn’t even need to answer as his hands found themselves around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. She sat on his lap, her face in his bare chest, listening to his calm heartbeat, the warmth of his skin soothing her. His hands rubbed her back lovingly, whispering quiet praises into her ear. Her sobs disappeared completely, her body was now relaxed, her heart no longer racing and thumping against her chest. She could feel herself succumbing to fatigue, her vision slowly blacking.

“Tired.. I'm so tired…” She mumbled against his chest.

“I got ya. Let’s get into bed a‘right hun.” Hazard said, as he lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

He got into bed, still holding her close to her, having her almost on top of him. He pulled the covers over her and stared at the top of her head, giving her a small kiss to calm her down more. “Im never leaving yer side alright? Sleep well bonny.” He mumbled, still giving gentle rubs on her back. She felt safe, she could sleep without worrying about anything. She knew Hazard was a good man, she let sleep take her into dreamland. And for the first time in a long long time she did not see nightmares. She only saw Hazard in her dreams, she saw dreams of their future, living out their days together in happiness. A smile decorated her face, a sight that made Hazard's heart jump in happiness. He truly loved this woman to bits, he would do anything for her, Anything.

- our little green flag bf.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : college!ex-boyfriend!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : MORE angst ; jealous Jisung ; fluffy ending though ; kind of suggestive ; Word Count : 1.2k Request : Anonny : OMG COLLEGE JISUNG WAS PAINFUL! You did such a great job with that one line he said outside the party. If requests are open, can I request an update on what happened during that week or after graduation? Nothing to be written out. I'm just so curious to know what happened to them! A/N : I know you said it doesn't have to be written out but I'm gonna write it out because my brain has way more to say than just a couple sentences!! I hope you enjoy!!

Roommates. It was weird for him. After 4 years of being so close to you, he had been bumped down to nothing but a roommate, and not even a roommate that you enjoyed living with. You avoided him at every turn, you didn’t talk to him, you didn’t even look at him.

Mornings where he’d wake up beside you, nuzzling his face into your neck as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tired giggles filling the room as you unsuccessfully tried to move away from him… they were gone. He missed you, he missed every single moment that he used to share with you.

Soft kitchen kisses when you’d both stand in the kitchen making breakfast, your eyes barely opened as you almost burnt the pancakes and bacon. Quiet yawns as his arms held onto you, your body leaning back against him as you almost fell asleep in the comfort of his hold.

He had been demoted to the couch, and while he found some sort of bittersweet happiness in the scent of you that clung to the cushions, it wasn’t you. The sofa was cold without you beside him, he could barely even sleep, his eyes refusing to close completely knowing that you were there, you were so close but so far away. He hated it, he hated that he had caused this, and he feared that there was no way to go back.

3 days until graduation and you were going out more often, something that Jisung wasn’t used to happening. It almost felt like you were doing it just to escape him. You didn’t like leaving the house, and it’s not like you were going shopping, you would always come back empty handed with the biggest smile on your face.

It was a smile that he was familiar with, the same kind of smile you’d wear whenever you’d go on dates together, whenever you’d so much as see him on campus. You were happy to see him… And now it seemed like you were happy to be seeing someone else.

His phone went crazy with notifications about the parties that were happening every single night almost, leading up to graduation. He ignored all of them. Parties weren’t his thing… not anymore. The thought of being surrounded by so many people made his skin crawl, being surrounded by the people that he had tried so hard to impress… And he still couldn’t figure out for himself why their thoughts mattered so damn much.

Friends… If they were really his friends they would have respected you… No… They weren’t his friends, they just liked having him around. He was the life of the party somehow, and even that didn’t make sense to him. He hated being around so many people… Why did he do it? What was so important about being popular? He wouldn’t know these people once these next 3 days are over. The only person he wanted to take with him once college was over was you, and you didn’t want that… You didn’t want him anymore.

1 day left until graduation, everyone was so excited, but he was terrified. Today would be the last day he got to actually be with you, to spend with you… And of course you were out again. Who the hell were you out with? Who had you going out so much? Who had gotten your attention like this and stolen you away from him?

You walked through the front door, once again bagless, showing him that you still weren’t shopping. He could see on your face, you were flustered, he knew that look quite well, he had made you look like that many times. You were giggly and giddy and when you shut the door behind you, you leaned against it, letting out the cutest little sigh. Is that how you reacted when you’d come back home after dates with him?

A date? A date?! That’s the only thing that made sense to him, and now he was… upset… he was jealous… he was pissed. “Yah!” He shouted, jumping up off the couch and storming over to you, his hand landing against the door right next to your head, caging you between him and the door. “Where were you? Huh!? What have you been doing? Who are you going out with?!”

Your little smile quickly fell when he was right in front of you and he hated that you seemed to be drained of all emotion when he was close to you. “It’s none of your business, Jisung.” You muttered, trying to duck under his arm, but he moved closer, pressing his chest against yours and pinning you there. “What are you doing?” You grunted, trying to push against him, but he wasn’t budging, his muscles flexing as he kept himself steady.

“I can’t fucking take it! It’s driving me bat shit crazy, and I hate seeing you happy if it’s not with me.” You rolled your eyes and his fist came down against the door with agitation. “Who are you going out with?! I’ll kick his ass, I swear to god!” He screeched, his head falling forward, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed heavily. “Who is it…? Just tell me, please… Are we really done?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” You mumbled, tilting your head away from him. “Don’t you have parties to attend? I’m sure everyone misses you.” You tried to push against him again, but he refused to move, his hands moving from the door to grip your hips, his head falling to your shoulder as he shuddered with quiet sobs.

“I don’t care who misses me… I want you to miss me… I miss you.” He whispered, desperately kissing along your shoulder, wanting you to feel something, wanting you to want him. “Fuck the parties… I want you… I just want you. Fuck, I miss you so fucking much!” He nibbled lightly on your neck, and he was more proud than he’d like to admit when you tilted your head to the side, a soft gasp leaving your lips. “Tell me who he is… Please, baby… Just tell me… Is he better than me?”

Your hands moved to his hair, your fingers tangling in it as you gently pulled him back, but the feeling of it had him moaning softly. “Are you jealous?” You cooed, a small smirk playing on your lips, and he didn’t even care how smug you were right now. He was jealous, and he nodded quickly. “I was with my mom… We’re getting things set up for when I move back in with her.”

He couldn’t help but stare blankly at you, blinking rapidly as his mouth fell open, and then your words sank in and his lips were latching back onto your neck, kissing and sucking against your skin ruthlessly before moving up to your lips, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Why… Why did you look so happy? Why were you giggling? Hmm?” He questioned through heavy breaths, and you snorted softly as you cupped his cheeks.

“Because I know how you get… I knew you’d get jealous…” You teased, squishing his cheeks before kissing him once more. “It worked, and now you know how I felt at the party… Well, before you insulted me… Which I’m still pissed about by the way.”

“I’m sorry!” He shouted quickly, his bottom lip jutted out as his eyes widened. “We’re… We’re not done though… Are we? I don’t even want to party… I just want you.” His fingers were gripping your shirt so tight, the fabric balled up in his palms as he stepped back, leading you to the couch. “I want to spend my life with you… Every second of every day… Please…”

[hxhhasmysoul]

I’ve been seeing these jjk takes such as “Gege doesn’t like writing jjk!” And what not. And while I personally don’t think so, I do think Gege is getting a bit burnt out hence the more fast paced storytelling due to the cutthroat manga industry. But claiming that Gege doesn’t like writing jjk? A person who isn’t passionate about their story would not have such an in-depth power system and world building. But that’s just me

Sorry for taking so long to answer. 

My personal opinion is that somewhere around the foreign armies invading Gege decided to wrap up JJK. There’s so much stuff set up in the story, so many plots going on, and suddenly the manga sped up. 

I won’t express a definitive opinion as to why that happened but I will tell you what I suspect may have happened and how I feel about it. 

I agree with you, that Gege’s put a lot of passion into JJK. The story is intricately woven, connected through character arcs, intrigue and themes. 

I also get how people can get vibes from JJK that its author doesn’t like writing it. I don’t know what the takes you mention mean by “Gege doesn’t like writing jjk!”. Because if it’s an accusation against Gege, then well this fandom’s always been the pits.

As a writer I get burn-out. There are several stories I have in progress that I’m passionate about, but it takes me months to update. These stories are not my job, I can give myself time to just let them hang there, unfinished. 

In the cutthroat manga industry there’s no such luxury. There are deadlines and exact page counts and chapter counts. And there’s the fandom and expectations. I don’t know how much of the social media vitriol gets to Gege, but even if the social media is handled by WSJ, Gege is probably aware that there’s just a lot of chatter. From a story that was supposed to get cut from WSJ for not performing well, JJK became its most popular title and I think that took a toll on Gege’s mental health.

I’ve written before about how devastating it must’ve been from the point of view of a creative to be told that your story is not popular enough to continue. Then moving an event from later in the story (Yuuji’s death in the detention centre) forward  to give the story some ending. Just for it to catapult the story into popularity and being told that the story will continue.  The whiplash, the bitterness, the desperation to rearrange the story to make sense with the new order of events that wasn’t planned for it. 

Also JJK wasn’t the long series Gege pitched to WSJ. They weren’t planning on expanding on Zero, at least that was not the first long form series they wanted to do. 

There are all these factors surrounding the creation of JJK that could’ve soured Gege on the story. It’s not impossible Gege stopped liking writing JJK at some point and just wanted it to end. 

Like there are these moments after the foreign troops bit that are so good, that to me look like stuff Gege was happy to write and draw. Moments centering Yuuji, or between Yuuji and Sukuna, fights including Maki, Kenjaku’s date with Takaba, Hakari fighting Uraume, Toudou’s comeback. But for example the whole fight between Gojou and Sukuna doesn’t feel to me like anything Gege wanted to write, at least not in the form it exists now. 

For me, as a writer, it’s a very sad experience to get vibes from moments in the story signalling that the author wasn’t excited to write them. I feel so much sympathy for Gege. I think there’s something really tragic about how JJK came to be.

[bupia]

Love letter: Chapter 1 - Cardinal Copia x Fem!Reader

Summary: Working as the Cardinal’s assistant, one day you find a letter inside of one of his filing cabinet. As you take it in your hands, you notice there’s no “from” or “to” written on it. 

Words: 3.159

Warnings: Some Italian swearing. This chapter is pure romance, but there may be smut in the upcoming chapters.

It was pretty early in the morning and you were already making your bed while all the other siblings who shared the dormitory with you were still asleep. You were the Cardinal's assistant, although you weren't sure why he chose you. You hadn't been in the Ministry for very long compared to other few siblings who applied for the role. To be fair, you were not sure how many people applied to be Cardinal's assistant. He was not as popular in the ministry as Papa Emeritus III, Terzo. Many siblings in the ministry would do anything to be close to Papa, but it was well known that Terzo didn't care for any siblings in the ministry. There were rumors that his heart was already taken, some rumors suggested that he already had what people would call his “Prime Mover”, but you weren't sure about it as you didn't know much about him. Nevertheless, you decided to do the best job you could.

When you first started as his assistant, you thought the job would be boring. In the beginning, it felt a little dull, but as time passed, you and the Cardinal developed a good relationship. Working with him became your favorite thing to do at the ministry, especially when he would call you by Italian nicknames. 

You had been working together for 7 months now, and although waking up early wasn't your favorite thing, being near the Cardinal was pleasant. Cardinal Copia was a nice old man - gentle, clumsy, silly, focused, and respectful. He also had a habit that you found amusing. Sometimes, he would mumble words in Italian. You weren't able to understand all of it, but you were already used to some words like "cazzo" and "merda." 

With all the time you spent together, you started to see the Cardinal in a different way. He was not just your clumsy boss anymore; you started to feel something else. Hearing him call you by your name, was the highlight of your day. You loved how your name sounded on his voice with his accent. But you needed to keep it extremely professional, not showing any emotions, controlling yourself to not blush or talk to him in a shaky voice whenever he was too close to you. 

Looking at the clock on your bedside table, you realize that you are already a few minutes late. You rush to the door, opening it quickly, causing Sister Emily to almost drop the laundry basket she was carrying.

"Is everything okay, Si-sister?" She asked, her voice shaky from being startled by you.

"Yes, I'm sorry Sister Emily, I didn't mean to scare you." You apologized before leaving your dormitory in a hurry.

You run down the stairs and head straight to Cardinal's office. Luckily, it's still early and there aren't many people in the corridors. You reach his office door, grab the keys, and unlock it. You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear the click of the door unlocking, indicating that Cardinal hasn't arrived yet.

Once inside, you open the curtains to let in some light and notice that his desk is a bit messy. "He must have stayed here late last night after I left." You think as you start organizing the pens on his desk before getting on your knees to organize the files in the filing cabinet of his desk.

As you're organizing the files in the filing cabinet, you come across an envelope that doesn't belong there. There's no "From" or "To" written on it, just a blank envelope with a paper inside. You consider putting it back in the folder, but your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to open it, but before you can read the contents of the letter, you hear a click at the door. You quickly stand up, close the cabinet door, and shove the letter into your pocket fixing your habit. 

"Buongiorno, sorella!" Cardinal greets you as he enters the room, looking at you suspiciously. "Is everything okay?" he asks while he takes some steps ahead getting close to his desk.

"Yes, Cardinal. I was just organizing some papers you left on your desk." You explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I completely forgot to organize them yesterday." He apologized.

"No problem, Cardinal. I'm here to help you with whatever you need." You assure him with a smile.

He smiled back at you, pulling his chair to sit on. "I honestly don't know what I would do without you, sorella. You're one of the best things that has happened to me recently. I really made a very good choice, sì?" He giggled.

In an impulsive act, you got up quickly from your chair, putting your hands on the table and taking a deep breath.

"What's the problem, sorella?" He looked at you, sitting in his chair.

"I just noticed I forgot your coffee, Cardinal." You said, turning your back to him and walking to the door before he could say something.

Feeling your heart jumping from your chest, you closed the door behind you. Those words messed with you, you know you had an impulsive reaction but you didn't know what to do when you heard him calling you as "one of the best things that has happened to me recently." You were pretty aware of how you felt about Cardinal Copia and you didn't want to let it show.

Walking to the kitchen, you could smell the coffee. The scent of the coffee was filling the corridors already. You could also smell bread being baked.

"I came to get Cardinal's coffee!" You said as you entered the kitchen.

"Sister! We thought you wouldn't come!" One of the siblings said, getting the tray with Copia's breakfast and lending it to you.

"Oh! I didn't forget at all, I was just busy with some duties." With the tray on your hands you left the kitchen and headed to his office again. 

Stopping by the door, you opened it slowly, keeping the tray straight with one hand. When you stepped inside the office, you saw Cardinal Copia in front of the window behind his desk with his gloved hands behind his back. You stayed in silence for a while, just staring at him. Today, he was wearing your favorite cassock, the black one. Not that you didn't like the other ones, but there was something about the black that would make you look at him more than usual. 

Using one of your feet, you closed the door behind you. As the door clicked shut, Copia turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. As you took steps to get closer to his desk, Copia turned his body in your direction and gave you a gentle smile.

"Oh, sorella. You're too good for this old man. What would I do without you, sì?" Giggling, you placed the tray on his desk in front of his chair.

"Well, Cardinal, I'm just doing my work." You smiled at him as he sat in his chair. "And also, if I didn't get it for you, you would totally forget to eat because we both know you get too focused on your work and forget to eat!"

"Sì, sì, you're right, sorella, but you are not 'just doing your work.' You do a lot more for me." He reached for your hand and held it. You froze at the touch of his hand reaching for the one that was still holding the tray handle. Turning your eyes from your hand to his face, you saw that he was staring into your eyes.

What only took a few seconds felt like hours due to the silence that filled the room after his touch. Giving him a shy smile, you could swear you saw him blush. As he let go of your hand, you walk back to your desk trying not to loose your composure.

For the rest of the day, you and Copia stayed in silence while doing your jobs. It was not common to work with him in complete silence. He would call your name to ask for something or just to point out some information. Sometimes, he would also engage in casual conversation. However, at times, you could swear you felt him looking at you.

Lunchtime came after a long morning of silence. It almost felt like time had stopped. Looking at the clock on the wall, you see that it is almost time to get Cardinal's lunch.

“Co-, Cardinal Copia” You took a deep breath before keep talking. “I’m gonna get your lunch at the kitchen with the other siblings.” You got up from your chair and walked to his desk to pick up the tray that was on the right side of his desk.

“Oh! Sorella, don’t need to worry about it. Go have your lunch with the other siblings and I will ask for someone to clean it and bring the lunch.” You stopped walking to his direction and nod with your head.

Turning your back to him, you left his office and went straight to the cafeteria. It was the first time that Copia hadn't asked you to do something for him or allowed you to do it. Today was definitely not a normal day, but at least it was Friday, which meant that whatever was happening between you and the Cardinal, the weekend would probably fix it.

-

Returning to the office after eating with the other siblings, you hear Cardinal's voice screaming in a not-too-unfamiliar language and loud noises coming from inside the office. You hurried your steps and opened the door, finding his office in a big mess. Cardinal Copia was throwing papers in the air, and some were already on the ground. The shelves were disorganized, all the drawers from his desk were fully open, and only your desk remained untouched. You stepped inside the office, closing the door behind you looking around all the mess having no idea what was happening.

"Cazzo! Merda! Dov'è?" Cardinal was now on his knees on the floor, taking out papers from the filing cabinet.

"Cardinal, is everything okay?" You asked, approaching him getting on your knees in front of him.

"Sorella! Great! I'm glad you're here!" He grabbed your hand, looking at you. "Sorella, per favore, essere onesta con me, did you see an envelope today when you arrived at the office early this morning?"

You knew exactly what he was talking about. "I'm sorry, Cardinal. I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen it." You lied. You wanted to tell him that yes, you saw it and yes, it was in your pocket, but you were too afraid to admit it. What would he think of you? There was no plausible excuse for having it in your habit's pocket.

"I may have taken it with me somewhere else. Are you sure you didn't see anything, cara?" Cardinal sighed.

You nod your head. "I'm sorry, Cardinal. I'm sure we'll find it somewhere, right?" You give him a smile.

"Sì, cara, you're right." 

"Should I help you clean up this mess?" You put your other hand on top of his.

"Ah... sì..." You felt his grip on your hand getting tighter, and you let go of his hand. Cardinal get up giving you his hand for you to hold helping you to get up after him. You smile at him grabbing his hand, holding your habit, you get up.

As you and Cardinal starts to organize the room, you couldn't stop thinking that the envelope was still in your pocket. Not only that, but you had also lied to him about not knowing what he was talking about. If it wasn’t bad enough that you had taken it from his filing cabinet, imagine how much worse it was now that you had lied about it.

While you were organizing his documents in the filing cabinet, you thought you could just put it there without him noticing it. But that would be strange, if you just looked at him saying: "Look, Cardinal, it was here the whole time!"

So you had to think in a better plan. Maybe when it was time for you to leave his office, you could tell him that you would stay just a little bit longer, so you could hide the envelope somewhere and tell him how you found it on Monday.

-

As the last hours of the workday approached, Cardinal Copia got up from his chair. He walked towards your desk and stopped in front of it.  "Sorella, I suppose we're finished for today, sì?"

"Oh! Cardinal, I haven't finished these papers yet. Is it okay if I stay for just one more hour?" Your face was glued to the papers in front of you just to avoid his gaze.

"Are you sure, sorella? Do you want some company?" He asked, not moving from in front of your desk.

"Yes, Cardinal. I'm sure. I'll finish these papers in an hour or less, and you can go rest now. Don't worry, I'll lock the door when I leave.” You replied, still focused on the papers.

He grumbled some words to himself.

"Hm?" You lift your head in his direction. "What did you say, Cardinal?"

"Nothing, sorella. Just thinking out loud, sì?" He took a step back from your table and walked to the door. "Buona notte, cara. Don't forget to lock the door when you leave." You smiled nodding at him as he left and closed the door behind him.

After he left, you returned to focusing on the papers in front of you. They weren't a big deal; you just needed to review some official documents from the Clergy to make sure everything was in order.

By the time you finish with the papers, you get up from your chair, stretch your back, and start to clean up your desk right away. You organize the files in the shelf and check if Copia's desk needs attention. With everything in order, you leave the office and lock the door. The corridors are already quiet, and you can only hear the sound of crickets outside the Ministry.

As you approached your dormitory, you retrieved your keys from your pocket. Suddenly, an envelope fell out. You realized with dismay that it was the letter you had forgotten to replace. You couldn't believe you had forgotten it.

Picking up the letter envelope from the floor, you weren't sure what to do next. Should you return it to his office, dispose of it, or keep it with you until Monday?

With so many options and thoughts running through your mind, you decided to head back to your dormitory. At this point, you regretted taking the letter from Cardinal's filing cabinet. However, it was too late, and you already had it in your possession, even worse, in your room.

Realizing it was a lost cause, you placed the envelope under your pillow and took a quick, relaxing shower. Upon returning, you checked under your pillow to ensure the envelope was still there. Unfortunately, it was.

Lying down, you couldn't stop thinking about what you had done. You had lied and hid it from Cardinal Copia, and if you told him what you had done, he would probably be disappointed and remove you from your position. You were supposed to return it after he left, but you got so distracted with the papers that you forgot.

But there was something else on your mind: why did Cardinal look so worried about this envelope? What was in the letter? If he was hiding it, it was probably something important. Your curiosity started to hammer in your head with questions that could only be answered if you read the letter, but should you? Invading Cardinal's privacy like this would probably put you on a tightrope. In fact, you had already invaded his privacy when you took it from the filing cabinet and shoved it into your pocket. And yes, you had the intention to give it a look before, but now, after seeing Cardinal on his knees throwing the papers all around, you weren't sure if you really should read it.

Yet, curiosity wasn't leaving you alone. You swiped your hand under your pillow and grabbed the envelope, bringing it close to your chest and taking a deep breath. You look around to make sure all the siblings were asleep and with a trembling hand, you open the envelope and take out the letter from inside. You still hold it close to your chest, gathering the courage you need. 

Unfolding the letter, you realize that it bears the handwriting of the Cardinal. As you begin to read, you do not see any name mentioned in the first few lines but the next few lines made your eyes widen.

“If you are reading this, it's probably because I have finally mustered the courage to deliver this letter. I know that a man of my age and position in the Ministry shouldn't be feeling what I feel for you, but it's inevitable to do not feel the way I feel when you are one of the few people who truly show compassion for me here. You've turned my world upside down in these last few months. Through small acts of affection and words, I try to show what I feel for you, but being close to you is like losing my breath, and whenever you look at me, I feel my body freeze and I have no reaction, that’s because I see gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at me, and it's almost impossible for me to maintain my composure. Your smile brightens up the room and your voice calling me as “Cardinal” is like music to my ears, although, I really wish you’d call me as Copia. Sometimes, I'm afraid of speaking too much and letting my feelings escape from within me. I can't say if this is love, passion, attraction, or something beyond that, but I know that I want to be the one holding your hand, Finally, I would like to say that even if my feelings for you are not reciprocated, I hope you can still understand that...”

"What?!" you exclaimed in your head. You turned the paper over to see if there was anything on the other side, but the letter ended there. It was inconclusive. "How can someone leave a love letter inconclusive?" you ask to yourself. Oh- wait. You sit up fast on your bed, noticing you've just read a love letter from the Cardinal, and you have no idea who he wrote it for. You've just read that Cardinal Copia is in love with someone from the Ministry, and you start to wonder who it is. But, do you really want to know? You feel a tightness in your chest. It was going to be a long weekend until Monday, but not forgetting about the Sunday mass. You’d see Cardinal Copia earlier than you thought.

Chapter 2 

Grammar

⸻

Cazzo - fuck Merda - shit Sorella - sister Buongiorno - good morning Cara - dear Dov’è? - where is it? Essere onesta con me - be honest with me Sì - yes/right Buona notte - good night

[enivez]

CHAPTER FIVE (+ .5k written)

SYNOPSIS…. Gaming is a common hobby for college students nowadays, with Overwatch being the game of choice for both Lee Heeseung and his favorite streamer loved.venus. The boy shows his love for his favorite streamer behind the screen name lee.bambi, though he doesn’t realize it was the campus fashionista that he hated ever so much behind the screen.

written chapter below

Heeseung can’t explain the pure distaste in his body when he sees you, the infamous [name], scrolling across campus with a latte in one hand and your friend Sunoo linked to your other arm. How can someone like you be so happy? How could someone of your status pursue their own passions? Being the only grandchild of one of the founding technology companies, why were you allowed to pursue your dreams and he wasn’t. He knows that he has no honest reason to his hatred but he can’t but scowl as you walk by, getting a confused look from the friend on your arm.

”What’s his problem,” Sunoo questions his friends as he turns around to take one last glance at the senior. You meet Sunoo’s curious gaze with a confused gaze.

“Can’t say I know,” continuing on, not giving it much thought.

You were familiar with Lee Heeseung, as he is quite popular among students on campus for his looks. You’ve never personally interacted with him, at least not that you remember. Especially nothing that would lead to your friends constantly pointing out the boy’s souring expression whenever you cross paths with him.

Nevertheless, you were too busy with the upcoming portfolio submission for the finalists of the fashion week slot. Still having no idea of what you wanted to submit as a representation of you and your art. You were racking your brain for the perfect idea or concept to present to the world.

As you ponder over the endless ideas that flood your brain, you find yourself in front of the building that will be your home base for the next few months. You had been in it countless times before, it being the main building for your department but it felt much more intimidating knowing you now had your own office within its walls. Luckily those competing were allowed to appoint two classmates within the department to aid you, which is why Sunoo was currently dragging you towards the space that now had your name printed on the designated door plate. Opening the door you were met with the other classmate you decided to recruit, the one and only Ningning scoffing at your late arrival.

“For someone pissing their pants over this whole thing you still manage to be late,” the girl says as you set down your stuff, setting down a cup of lemonade in front of her. Rolling your eyes at her comment and began to explore the room assigned to you. It wasn’t massive but it was larger than you expected, with the room's main feature being the large work table in its center. One wall was just shelving to hold fabric and other necessities while the other had a massive cork board that could be used as a place to display sketches and notes. Feeling the pressure of it all, you plop down in the seat next to your friends with a heavy sigh.

”Well let's get to work,” you say with exhaustion present in your voice as you pull out your well loved sketchbook.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

A/N: first written chapter!! i actually wrote this before i even wrote chapter 2-4 and im excited to do more written chapters in the future <33 +pls ignore time stamps

TAGLIST⊹₊⋆

@cholexc @woninluv @myjaeyuns @eleanorheartschishiya @dimplewonie @heelovesmeknot @lprww @haechansbbg @xuimhao @defnotfertilizedtoesw @kgneptun @jwnghyuns

[thatdesklamp]

Hello, and (for the moment) ‘see you in a while’ from old desklamp.

(Quick edit now I’ve written this all out: Oh, lordie—I’ve just realised that this sounds like I’m announcing I’m giving up on IW. I’m not! I promise. This is all about how I’m trying to facilitate my writing process. IW is not being dropped: let’s get that out of the way first, lmao.)

Hello all! I’ve been doing some self-reflecting, and I’ve come up with this: I’ve struggled with writing ‘Intrinsic Warmth’ for a long time now.

Alll too often I’ve been sat with my laptop for hours having only managed to squeeze out one or two paragraphs that I don’t even like all that much anyway. I haven’t felt satisfied by writing for a long time, and so I just haven’t written anything. It’s been months since I’ve written something worth reading for IW, and I’ve been having a think as to why.

I think it comes down to two things; I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure in writing IW, and I’ve become too fixated on the instant gratification of feedback from you guys.

First: the pressure. IW has gotten bigger than I ever considered it would be, especially recently (as in, in the jjk season 2 era). The support and feedback continues to blow me away, and I’m staggered every time I stop to actually consider the magnitude of the response that IW has gotten. It’s genuinely crazy.

All that is to say: I wasn’t prepared for this!! I don’t mean that in any resentful way at all, I want to be clear. Moreso that it’s easy to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. I know that, relative to other huge ao3 fics, IW isn’t even that huge. But I also recognise that in the ‘Gojo x reader scene’, it’s pretty up there, even if we’re just looking through a ‘filter by most kudos’-ed fic angle. There’s a been big response, and I’m just one person, lmao. But come on, I absolutely love it, and I’m so grateful that people have enjoyed the stuff I’m writing—but as more and more people have been picking it up I’ve felt a definite pressure put upon me. It’s a pressure to write well, and to write more, and to write good things more often. This isn’t to do with anything anyone’s said, don’t worry, but more as an expected consequence of IW picking up traction.

I feel more and more like a ‘popular author’, and feel like I’m doing you guys a disservice with my infrequent updates. I truly do appreciate the reassurance of ‘you can update whenever you want!’, genuinely, but I’m also an ao3 reader myself! I empathise with and understand the frustration that must be felt when I go months between updates. Writing has never come at the expense of my personal, academic or social life (hence why I’ve never tried to tie myself down with an update schedule: I’d never be able to keep to it), and I’d never want it to. I want to keep writing as it’s always been: one of my hobbies. But as IW increases in popularity, it feels like it almost *should* take priority over other things, and this has left me feeling pretty overwhelmed.

My second reason: I’ve also become a tad too dependent on feedback. When IW was in its fledgling stages, I didn’t show it to anyone at all, and was ‘writing for myself’ in the barest sense of the phrase. Only one of my irl friends has read any of it, and when I was first uploading it, when I had about 5ish comments per chapter, any feedback I was getting would always be secondary to my own. I was writing for myself, because I enjoyed writing and I enjoyed what I was writing about, and it just so happened that there were a few people who felt the same as me.

It’s very different now! And I much prefer it now—it’s every writer’s dream to have had such an overwhelmingly positive response to their writing. And now it gets to the point where I can check my emails, or look at my tumblr notifications, and there’ll always be new for me. And whilst I absolutely love this, it’s pretty addictive, checking again and again, seeing what people are saying. This positive response from others is more instantly gratifying than the slow, steady, personal enjoyment I get from writing.

It sounds silly, I know, but I’ve been writing this hunger games fic (completely spontaneous, likely never to be published), and no-one’s read it but me, and it’s reminded me how much I really do like writing. I’ve loved the process of writing it, because the only person whose opinion I’m listening to is my own.

I don’t want to discourage people from reaching out to me, leaving comments, even talking about IW, anything like that. That’s not what I mean. But this is me recognising that I should probably take a step back from the non-writing side of writing: being active on tumblr, constantly checking asks, making posts, etc. Know that whilst I may not immediately respond to you, once I get back in the swing of things over here, I will do. I just need to sort out my personal priorities a bit, I think.

Saying this, I know I haven’t been all that active recently (this has honestly been intentional: I’ve been trying to wean myself off it, lmao) but for the immediate future, I’m making that more definite: I’m going to try to revert my focus to writing. I’m going to stay off tumblr for a bit, until I’ve gotten back into the swing of writing and don’t find myself so focused on the feedback side of it all. Hopefully this’ll spark up some more genuine passion in me! Please know that if you’ve written an ao3 comment, I have read it. I don’t know when I will respond to them, but I definitely will, I just want to keep my focus on the personal side of writing for the moment.

Thank you to everyone! Again, this is just me going off the grid for a while: not a big fuckoff goodbye or anything. If this is unreasonably theatrical, blame my drama GCSE. Going off to do some writing now. See you guys!

[its-time-to-write]

Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame. 

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself. 

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster. 

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door. 

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says. 

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago. 

God, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him. 

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie. 

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses. 

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger. 

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right. 

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh. 

Everything’s all twisted. 

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?” 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around. 

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble. 

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off. 

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes. 

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie. 

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger. 

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs. 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle. 

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand. 

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet. 

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit. 

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk. 

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had. 

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty. 

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question. 

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse. 

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat. 

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable. 

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie. 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again. 

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright. 

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you. 

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye. 

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you. 

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying. 

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except- 

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication. 

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back. 

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue. 

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech. 

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions. 

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell. 

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests. 

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships. 

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off. 

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting. 

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw. 

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able. 

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch. 

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?”  you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?” 

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day. 

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think. 

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep. 

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice. 

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid. 

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle. 

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road. 

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever. 

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply. 

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act. 

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car. 

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend. 

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait. 

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle. 

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says. 

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm. 

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra. 

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan. 

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca. 

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster. 

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease. 

 “The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right. 

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall. 

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. 

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty. 

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move. 

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.” 

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say. 

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod. 

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug. 

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry. 

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin. 

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak. 

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🍃 ZEPHYROS: GOD OF THE WEST WINDS, PERSONIFICATION OF THE GENTLE WEST WIND AND SPRING. 🌷

A/n: Another Popular minor god let's go! Zephryos or Zephryus will always pop up like a random but welcome breeze, so it was only fitting to do a demigod imagine on him. Also either I'm not looking in the right direction or I see a lack of Zephryus demigods. No idea if he would make a good godly dadza. Now to see if anyone picks up the references I've put in from another fandom. MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERLIST LINK: [TUMBLR] || [AO3]

If you’ve ever heard of “Spring is in the air”, there is no better term used for Zephyros because that essentially sums up his entire existence. This also applies to you every time you make an appearance. Whether you bring love in the air or smell like flowery perfume (the good kind that brings you ease and happiness), it ranges a bit.

When you get claimed, you can hear the singing of swans as the wind blew gently from the west, carrying the smell of Spring almost like a herald…even if it’s not even Spring anymore. Unironically, your claim in Camp Halfblood takes place at Zephyros Creek…the creek that is literally named after him that runs through the entire forest.

As one of the more popular, minor gods, your presence as a demigod and your powers are also notable…which isn’t as much of a problem if it wasn’t much of a learning curve. Unlike where it’s pretty simple for the major gods where it makes relative sense of their domains and concepts, for Zephyros it’s less on the nose and requires some actual studying; from the winds, horses, spring, love, and etc.

As a child of Zephyros, you obviously have the power of the winds at your command. However, he is also technically a god of springtime, you also have the power to grow and manipulate plants, though not as much as the child of Demeter. Makes sense if you think of the wind carrying the pollen, helping the growth of flowers and the Spring wind heralds the changing of the seasons from Winter. If you’re at Camp between the seasons of Winter and Spring, you’ll find yourself in the company of the children of Demeter. A welcome change from growing decorative gourd to strawberries.

What no one tells you at first, despite being a god of the winds, you expect to have some connection to birds like the Swans from earlier, you learn you also have a connection with horses; as Zephyros has turn into a horse and had pulled Zeus’ chariot with his brothers against Typhon. So Pegasus flying is almost like second nature to you but slightly left field. Good thing you have the children of Poseidon because you two can gossip and complain with the pegasus…though why is that you feel a certain draw to certain pegasus…?

You also find yourself being drawn to and from the children of Iris; where you learn that Iris told them to make you feel welcome and extends you an invitation to drop by her Organic shop anytime, the children of Apollo surprisingly; once everyone got over the fact about their parents’ thing over Hyacinth, they welcomed you greatly and especially appreciated you spirit over any injured patients over or simply growing some well-need plants at that moment. Plus, every so often, you all get together to have a small music break and not surprisingly, you find yourself gifted at wind instruments.

You also meet Lester or a.k.a. Apollo as well around this time. He welcomes you as much as he can and while you appreciated the gesture, you knew he carried guilt and awkwardness towards you, forcing himself to show you that he had no qualms and in extension, show Zephyros that he regretted blaming your godly father for Hyacinth's death and to show he wouldn’t be petty and harm his own kid; even if he knew that received help during his own powerless moment. Luckily for you and him, Zephryos written a letter for Apollo that you gave to him, explicitly stating that Zephyros that was sorry as well and forgave Apollo long ago. You find yourself having another father figure in your life through Apollo, who constantly invites you to his and his children’s activities.

You find yourself being in the company of the children of Aphrodite. Zephryos famously has a connection being in the service of Eros, bringing Spring (i.e. romance) in the air, but there’s also his and Iris’ son; Pothos, the God of Sexual Longing, Yearning, and Desire, who is also an attendant of Aphrodite. So whether or not you have a particular interest in romance or whatever, the children of Aphrodite are more likely to share their secrets and gossip with you and even help you from time to time. Or you’re going to be the one spreading those juicy gossip and spilling the tea to the people of the Aphrodite cabin (and those who feel so inclined) about So and So being seen together while holding hands.

You quickly figure out that Zephyros is rather well-known around Camp, outside of his presence in Greek Mythos, as you find out that from Annabeth, like her, a lot of them were brought to their mortal parents from their godly parents by Zephyros. Somewhere down the line, you find yourself able to find out whose unclaimed demigods’ parentage is because Zephyros touch lingers on them, leaving you in a dilemma if you’re allowed to say it.

In terms of physical attributes inherited from your father, this is what’s going to be a nightmare for you. At first you thought you might inherit wings because Zephyros is often depicted with wings, but if your claiming doesn’t trigger it, then you might not have wings at all. Though this is not a problem with flying as you can manipulate the wind to help you fly. No, what’s a nightmare is that Chiron sat you down and told you that you might be able to turn into a horse because Zephyros has been known to turn into a horse, so you may be able to turn into that…but what really threw you in a loop is that you may possess the characteristics of a tiger because he’s also the sire of Tigers. So Tiger, Horses, and Birds oh my! good luck with that!

On the other hand, you’re going to have an animal companion; whether its a tiger, horse, or birds; though usually swans but not limited to it. Afterall, pegasus are considered horses too; so there’s that. For all you could know, you may have crows as your companion(s); though they’re a rather chatty bunch so you are probably going to call them as Chat. Or Bryan- for that one crow that can speak rather human like. 

Everyone stared at you with open gaped mouths as the claim of Zephryos floated above your head. The swans were singing and flapping their wings in Zephyros creek. The wind gently blew from the West as if Zephyros was gently running his hand over your hair, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. There was a waft of floral scent also coming from the West, and it smelled familiar to you. 

Everyone was staring at you with a range of awe, surprise, and absolute recognition. The weight of the stares was starting to make you awkwardly hot and uncomfortable. Silence gradually filled in when the swan singing started to fade off into the distance, only the wind swaying of the trees with the sound of the water running through the creek. It was then you remembered that you had the flag in hand, the fabric flapping in the wind earlier like some epic painting when you reached the goal. It was a whirlwind of events when you felt yourself flying, your feet carrying you like you were absolutely nothing. At first you thought you were definitely a child of Hermes, with your feet running like you had wings on your feet but then when you were getting pincered from all sides. You were cut off by the enemy side and the only exit was a cliff and the next thing you knew you jumped off the cliff in a run, and as you fell, panic hit you as you realized you couldn’t land safely and the creek wasn’t that deep to sustain your fall. 

It was at that moment the wind blew from the West and swirled around you, carrying off into safety into the waters. You botched the landing and did a couple stumble but you took that then going SPLAT.

You wondered if you should say anything when people weren’t really moving, whispering amongst themselves, until you heard a whistle that came off rather musically impressed and then a clap of rhythm. Your eyes turned to the source to see a boy with brown hair and eyes but when the sunlight filtered through the gap of the branches, you swore you saw blue instead. 

“Well, certainly Zephyros knows how to make an entrance, not that I wouldn’t do either of course” said the boy and you heard that one child of Demeter with a temper scoff. “I think we can say Capture the Flag is over right Chiron?”

The centaur shook out of his stupor and cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Yes, that would seem to be the case” he said before he turned to the other campers to say that Capture the Flag was now over and your team cheered in victory. 

You were rushed over by your teammates for securing the win and congrats on being claimed. You thanked profusely, still not sure who claimed you until you saw the boy from earlier, that your brain hazily remembered as some from the Apollo cabin. 

“Well I never expected to see a child of Zephryos to appear, much less when I’m at camp. I guess there’s no real bad blood anymore if he’s open to claiming his kid in front of me.”

“Uh, wait Zephryos? He’s my dad? But isn’t he the god of the West wind-”

“Yes, Zephryos, God of the West Wind as well as the personification of it and a god of Spring you can say” he said, before gently gesturing you out of the water and that’s when you realize your shoes and socks were absolutely soaked and very uncomfortable as they squished with every movement. 

“I don’t think he would have a demigod” you admitted. 

“Well, Zephryos and I were both interested in a lovely human man named Hycanith, though he got jealous that Hycanith accepted me as a lover. It’s a long story but it seems like he had moved on some time to have you” smiled the stranger. 

“Wait, I remember that story…but you? The story had Apollo-” you started to say but you cut off your words when it hit you. You turned to the stranger beside you and now you could feel it.  “Ah yes, it’s a rather long story but I’m in my mortal form. Here, I’m called Lester Papadopoulos but those who know, know me as Apollo.”