#any excuse to bring this up is a good excuse

[ylangelegy]

it’s kind of a funny story 🫧 seungcheol x reader.

just when you think your walk of shame couldn’t get any more shameful… 

★ word count: 1.1k ★ genre/warnings: 18+ content. no explicit smut, but implied sexual content told through flashbacks so! mdni! + romance, humor, fluff -ish. alternate universe: non-idol, mentions of alcohol. ★ footnotes: this is for the loml, @heartepub! (prompt was also from her) nooo viv don't die from thesis you're so sexy aha... 💙

There are three things you register when you wake up.

First: It’s cold. There’s sunlight streaking through the windows and you’re under a blanket— which is decisively not yours, by the way— yet you’re freezing, chilled to the bone. The answer to that question brings you to realization number two. 

You’re stripped down to your underclothes. Every inch of your body is rebelling at you for your mistreatment. The copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed the night before, the consequences of that raging bender. All of which leads to the last but not the least of the facts— 

There’s an arm around your waist, a solid weight pressed against your back. It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to put a name to the body curved around you like a parentheses. 

Cheol, he had told you on the dance floor, his eyes glinting under the low lights. Seungcheol, if you want this to be more than a one-time thing. 

It’s ridiculous, how that sad excuse for a pick-up line had drawn you in. Your memories of last night are a blur. Flashes of hands, of lips, of Seungcheol’s low voice coaxing you apart like a prayer.

Carefully, you peel yourself from the bed. Your body aches in seven different places. Inasmuch as you want to blame all the Long Island iced teas and Cuba libres you’d downed, you know it has less to do with that and everything to do with the man you’re about to walk away from. 

Seungcheol is still asleep, his face buried into his pillow. His chest rises and falls with a kind of steadiness that makes it hard to believe how utterly reckless he’d been with you just hours ago.

All of that blurs together, too. There’s bits and bobs of it in your mind’s eye: His hand in your hair, your knees on the carpet. You wince.

You try to not make any noise as you clean up. This was the name of the game, after all. This was going to be a story you tell your friends on your way home, a tale regaled via a long-winded voice note. An uptick in your body count. Another reason why you should never drink beer before liquor. 

Your dress is crumpled on the floor. You go to pick it up—

The zipper is shredded.

The seam, split clean down the back.

What the fuck. 

Your pulse hammers as you hold up the ruined garment, blinking like that’ll somehow fix it. It’s not like the dress holds any sentimental value. You’d bought it online specifically for your night out, had prepared to outgrow it in a year or two. You didn’t think you’d only get one wear out of it. 

The dress’ demise comes back to you slowly. Seungcheol’s impatient hands, the desperate way he had tugged the fabric when it wouldn’t come off fast enough. 

You remember the way his muscles had rippled underneath the low light. The faint sound of tearing. His muttered curse, his half-hearted apology said right before he dove in to relish in the newly-revealed skin. You’d been too far gone to care, then. 

Now, though? Oh, you care.

You’re still gaping at the dress when you hear the bed creak. “Good morning, beautiful,” the culprit grouses. 

You can tell that it’s his usual pleasantry, his typical cheeky greeting to all of his conquests. All that bravado fades, though, when you face him with the tatters of your dress still in your hand.

“Ah, shit.” Seungcheol’s voice is raspy from alcohol and sleep. He props himself up on his elbows, and— to give him some credit— he looks genuinely repentant. 

His hair is a mess; his face, already a deep red as he registers what you’re holding. 

“I— I can pay for that,” he stutters.

It’s almost comical, really. This is the same man who had you writhing underneath him, who had whispered pure filth into the crook of your neck. Now, he was blushing like a kid caught stealing from a cookie jar. 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, like you haven’t quite decided if you’re going to be angry or laugh. “I don’t even think a tailor could save this.” 

Seungcheol rubs his face with both hands. “I don’t know what came over me,” he groans.

One of your eyebrows cock upwards. “I think you do.” 

He peeks at you between his fingers. You watch the way his throat bobs as his gaze flickers over your bare legs, the marks he left blooming across your skin. Claims he shouldn’t be able to make, and yet he’d gone and taken all the same. 

“It’s not funny,” he says into the heel of his palm, but he’s already grinning despite his voice remaining low and rough. 

“It’s kind of funny,” you counter. 

You let the ruined dress drop to the floor. It looks even more pitiful as it pools around your feet, and Seungcheol’s jaw ticks at the blatancy of his misgivings. 

“That’s never happened before,” he notes. Despite the fact he looks worse for wear, you can decipher the sincerity behind his words. 

This was not part of the plan, not a plot point in the usual story. Both of you were far more accustomed to clean cuts. One-night stands with no promises; quiet come-and-go’s. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, fingers curling in the sheets. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you just know he’s contemplating his next course of action. Loaning you some of his spare clothes would be the way to go. He could also—

Seungcheol’s voice drops like a weight. “You could… stay a little longer.” 

Until what, exactly, you’d love to know. Is he planning a same-day delivery for a replacement dress? Does he intend to hold you hostage until he’s a little more willing to send you off in a shirt he can bear to lose? 

You should be pissed. You should scold him, should rummage through his cabinet yourself and be on your merry way. The name of the game. 

But the way he’s looking at you— wrecked and wanting, like he might split apart if you walk out his door— makes it impossible to do anything but crawl back into his bed. 

He’s still embarrassed. You can tell from the way he tenses when you kiss him, the way his fingers barely ghost over your hip. Seungcheol tastes like cola, like something distinctly him, and like The Biggest Mistake You’re Ever Going To Make. 

To hell with it. 

“Try not to wreck the only clothes I have left,” you say against his mouth, “Seungcheol.” 

You feel his smile instead of seeing it. The way his lips curl around yours, pleased at your choice.

He tugs at the waistband of your underwear, his touch a lot more gentle than last night. As he pulls it off, he mumbles, “No promises.” 

[mollywilcoxvo]

Reminder that, even on some of the worst days, in some of the more frustrating situations, chances are the people around you aren't the *cause* of the frustration.

Saturday, I got to spend 2 hrs in my mobile phone store, because someone in another state had decided to charge 4 iphones to my account, and ship them to their place.

When checking in, I was told it would be a good 45 minute wait. So I toddled off to get lunch. When I came back, about a half hr later, an older white gentleman had come in and sat at one of the service counter tables.

He had a piece of paper in front of him, and kept fidgeting with it. Snapping the paper, grumbling semi-loudly. Finally, when another person was called and it wasn't him, he yelled "FUCK! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Everyone just stared at him for a second. He continued "I was told to come back in an hour and they'd have my phone ready, and I'm ignored! I have things to do today!"

I looked at him and said "Sir, we all have things to do. I get that it's frustrating, but that's no excuse."

He glared at me "Well, I have things to do, and it's my only day off. I want the phone they were supposed to have ready."

I just looked at him. "Honestly, sir, I'm dealing with 4 counts of fraud on my bill today. If I can wait patiently for a representative to help me with this, you can wait patiently for them to bring you the already set-up phone."

Him: "You should just shut the fuck up."

Me: "Same to you, sir.", and I went back to reading my book.

5 minutes later, the assistant manager came in, checked in with him and said his phone should be ready in about 10 minutes.

He apologized at that point, in particular looking directly at me.

Patience and manners are learned behavior, taught to us as we grow up - or, at least, they should be. And punitive punishment doesn't produce better manners or behavior - quite the opposite.

Also, you have to actively use these mental muscles regularly, or they get rusty and don't work any longer.

After years of living in the adulting world, I think I’ve come to a realization: Manners exist to guide you to good conduct even when you’re in a bad mood.

When you’re happy, when you’re feeling generous, when you’re pleased with your gift or your service or your outcome, it’s easy to be nice. It’s easy to tip the waiter well when you’ve had a good day. It’s easy to thank the teller or the clerk when you got what you wanted out of the transaction. It’s easy to smile and chit-chat with strangers on the road when you’re in a good mood.

It’s hard to tip the waiter when you didn’t enjoy your food. It’s hard to thank the clerk for their time when you’ve just been told there’s a problem with their account and they weren’t able to fix it for you. It’s hard to think of something nice to say when your aunt gave you a crappy sweater you neither need nor want. It’s hard to be nice to people when you’ve had a shitty day. It’s HARD.

That’s what manners are for. Scripts and phrases that you learn by rote to say when you can’t think of a single nice or good thing to say from your own volition. Yes, they’re scripted. Yes, the sentiment is empty. But the scripts work in every situation, and the emptiness provides a buffer between your own unhappiness and the rest of society.

Because most of the time, it’s not the waiter’s fault that the food you ordered wasn’t what you expected. It’s not the clerk’s fault that your account is overdrawn. It’s not the fault of the barista or the stranger on the subway that you got fired today or your favorite aunt died. But even when you can’t summon a smile or a cheery word, you can still have manners, because they will serve you the same in sunshine or rain.

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely, any chance you could do James x reader who is stressing over exam season?

Thanks for all the great work bb we appreciate it so much :)

Thank you angel, I love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 768 words

“Hey, lovely girl.” James comes up behind your chair with an arm around your front and a kiss to your head, surreptitiously slipping away your coffee. “How’s it going?” 

“It’s going fine,” you say. It’s a lie, but you have larger concerns. Your boyfriend is acting suspicious. “What are you doing?” 

“Just checking in on you.” 

“No, what are you doing with my drink?” 

“I was thinking we could make an exchange,” James says casually. 

You sigh, both craving and resenting the break. “I need to focus. No side quests.” 

“This isn’t a side quest. It’s a…a brief deviation—”

“That’s another way to say side quest.” 

“You didn’t let me finish. A brief deviation which will ultimately result in you being more productive.” 

You pause. “Okay…” 

James stamps a happy kiss to your hair. “So, first, I was thinking we could pick up some matcha or something—” 

“James,” you cut him off gently, “that’s a sweet thought, but matcha doesn’t have any caffeine in it.” 

“I’ve heard that, yeah. That’s a key feature of the plan, as it happens.” 

“I feel like I sort of need caffeine for my studying, lovely.” 

James makes a wishy-washy humming sound. It buzzes against the top of your head where he rests his chin. “Have you noticed that you’re vibrating?” he asks.

“I’m…” You take a quick stock of yourself. You feel exhausted, drained. Not vibratey. “No, I’m not.” 

“Mhm. I can actually feel your heart beating against my arm right now.” 

Now that he says so, you can feel it too. “Well, I’m nervous.” Your voice takes on an unintentional sharpness. “I’ve got three exams this week, and I want to do well. I can’t just check out.” 

James might have been anticipating you’d get prickly. He stays perfectly calm, only sweeping his thumb over your collarbone mollifyingly. You feel instantly ridiculous for your small breakage.

“I know, angel,” he says, in that everything’s-just-fine voice of his. “I get that you’re stressed. And it sucks that it is so stressful, but I’m not saying you should check out. I just want to make your studying go easier.” 

You’re quiet, guilty and embarrassed for sniping at him when he’s so relentlessly kind to you. James never does anything but make things easier for you, even when he’s not trying to. He makes your life easier just by existing. 

James lets go of you with the arm across your chest to squat by your chair, looking up into your face. He touches his thumb to the top of your cheekbone. 

“You look like your eyes hurt.” 

“They do,” you admit. 

He smiles ruefully. “Can I tell you the rest of the plan?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

“I was thinking we’d take our matcha—or uncaffeinated beverages of your choice—and go to the park by Remus’ place. It has that little quiet area down the trail, remember? You could bring your books. It’d still be studying, but” —James shrugs, looking at the bright light you’ve positioned above your textbook, your grimy coffee mug, the chair you’ve been sitting in since you got up this morning— “this isn’t good for you. Maybe a change of scenery will help.” 

Now it’s you wanting a deviation. A side quest, an excuse to check out. You want to take James’ face between your hands and spend the rest of the week ensuring no inch of it goes unkissed. Screw exams. When he looks at you like this, so wholesome and earnest and chock full of good intentions, you genuinely think you must be the luckiest girl in the world. 

“That sounds nice,” you say. 

James grins, and god, his dimples dig in so deep you really could get lost in them if you let yourself. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You give in slightly to indulgence, leaning down to press your lips to his cupid’s bow. Retracting before you forget about exams altogether. “That’s a really lovely idea, Jamie. Thank you for thinking of it.” 

“Well, it wasn’t hard,” he says breezily. “All I had to do was think to myself, if I were wearing my eyes out being a swot all day, where would I rather be?” 

You smile. James’ doubles in wattage because of it. “Well, you nailed it. That sounds perfect.” 

“Plans are my forte, lovely. Let’s see, maybe we try studying there until the sun starts to go down, and then you can call it quits for the evening.” 

“I thought we agreed on no checking out.” 

“But what if I put cucumbers on your eyes? That’s not checking out, that’s just rejuvenation.” 

“I…might be slightly more amenable to that.”

[47lake]

talk to me

synopsis: you're trying to tell billie something but she can't help cutting you off.

‼️: dom!billie, sub!reader, oral sex(r!receiving), fingering, praise, “sweet girl”, “sweetheart”, “baby”, hair pulling w/c: 326

“i’m sorry i couldn’t hear you, could you repeat that for me?”

you huffed and began to repeat yourself, her cocky grin was doing everything but helping.

“i was just-“

you tucked your lip between your teeth as she increased the pace of her fingers, your chest heaving faster than before.

“billie! it’s so.., hard to talk..”

your words broke out in choked moans as she tortured your swollen clit so gently with her perfect tongue. she kissed you gently and her smile returned as you twitched.

“oh i know, sweetheart. you’re doing so well though, isn’t that right?”

you nodded and arched your back as she continued where she had left off. you could hardly think straight with the perfect portrait she was painting against you, her fingers like the most magical brushes. your slick coated her ivory skin beautifully as she coaxed you along.

“i want you to tell me how it feels, you can do that for me, can’t you?”

you tilted your head backwards as her touch continued to be unrelenting, a loud ‘mhm’ rolled off of your tongue.

you opened your mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come, your jaw hung agape as moans and whines ran out of you like a rushing river.

“talk to me, baby.”

your fingers found home in her dark locks, gripping onto the chocolate strands in an effort to bring yourself back down to earth.

“so, fuck, so good, bils.”

you felt her pleased hum ripple against your sensitive skin, your eyes snapped shut as you felt the warm wave building up inside of you.

you squeezed your thighs around her head as she dipped her tongue into your need. it felt so perfect, as though she was made to please you.

you opened your mouth to warn her of how close you were when she spoke up.

“i know, sweet girl. let it go for me.”

hope you guys like this little blurb! 🧟‍♀️

i’ve been sick for like a month so please excuse the lack of posts 😣

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

💋: @thechipbetweenyourcarseat @dollyvuu @greenbttrflyy @eilishslut @karaeilishh @moralesluvr @anna-geeeezzzz @certifiedwomenlover @asterisk-eyes @mseilishmwah @eeuni @ohdoyoustillcry @bilsdillldough @amara-eilish @chrissv4mp @vijaxx @drunkinyourbenz @adinda-eilish @bxllxebxtch @mybluebossanova

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[arislore]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Inexperienced!Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader

Summary: A fun little list of NSFW headcanons organized by the first letter of each topic. Enjoy!

Tags: established relationship, spencer was a virgin when y’all got together, oral (f & mentions of m receiving), slight medical play, sexy use of statistics, male masturbation, mentions of anal

Warnings: Most of these are paragraphs but there are a couple of letters that i kind of gave up on.

Word Count: 1.9k

A: Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s exhausted, but he manages to stay awake long enough to clean you up and talk to you until you fall asleep. He’ll rub little soothing circles into your skin and hold your head on his chest, letting you count his heartbeats.

B: Body Part (their favorite body part, both on their own body and their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself has to be his hands, because he loves watching you fall apart on them. His favorite body part of yours is definitely your eyes. He loves to see how they squint when you’re confused, how they crinkle when you’re happy, and how they gloss over when you get needy for his touch. He also loves when he makes you feel so good that you start to cry, just from how overwhelmed you are.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

As we all know, Spencer is a germaphobe, so when you first had sex with him, he cringed when he felt his cum flood the condom. After you explained that you were on the pill, he was ecstatic that he didn’t have to use one again. He doesn’t mind dirtying you, though–one of his favorite things to do is cum inside of you when you don’t have time to clean up, and you’re forced to walk around with it in your underwear. You almost wrung his neck when he did this on a case.

D: Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly really likes being called “Doctor” during sex, and when you figure this out, you don’t let him go a single day without rubbing it in his face. In the bullpen, you’ll move in front of him, brushing your ass against his crotch with a quiet, “Excuse me, Dr. Reid,” just to hear his breath get caught in his throat. When you bring him his coffee (no cream, but ten tablespoons of sugar), you’ll set it down in front of him, placing a hand on his bicep, all sultry, saying, “Here you go, Doctor.” It doesn’t hurt that he looks incredibly sexy wearing his crime scene gloves.

E: Experience (how experienced are they?)

He was a virgin when he met you. He’d kissed Lila in the pool nearly a decade prior, and he had a long-distance relationship with Maeve, but he had never actually gotten further than a single make-out session. When you touched him for the first time, he was so sure he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn’t fathom a world where someone as beautiful as you could love someone like him.

F: Favorite Position (goes without saying)

He loves any position where he gets to see your face. He loves watching you react to each little touch, watching your mouth contort in pleasure as you beg him for more. He prefers missionary, but he’s more than happy to have you on top when he’s too tired to do the work. But if he can’t see your face, it’s just not as good for him.

G: Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)

He’s serious, but sometimes, when he’s nervous, he’ll start rattling off statistics about sex, which made you laugh at first, but now it just turns you on even more. When you taught him how to eat pussy, he responded with, “Right, because only eighteen percent of women can reach orgasm from penetration alone.”, which left you speechless. The first time you guys used toys, you were a little embarrassed that you needed it in the first place, and he said, “You know, eighty-two percent of women use sex toys. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the curtain match the drapes?)

His pubic hair is tinted red, although he doesn’t have much of it. You didn’t mind at first that he didn’t trim it, but when you started going down on him more, it bothered you, and he immediately started manscaping each time he showered.

I: Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)

To Spencer, sex is all about you. He doesn’t even care if he gets off, although it’s an added bonus. He’s always holding your hand, or rubbing soothing circles into your hip as you get overwhelmed. For him, foreplay is the best part. He loves to tease you for as long as you can stand it. Kissing, biting, licking all over your body, leaving little marks and bruises. He just wants you to know how loved you are.

J: Jack Off (masturbation headcanons)

He rarely touched himself before he met you. Even though it took years for either of you to work up the courage to admit your feelings to one another, he noticed nearly everything about you, from the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way (and god, he wanted to see your lips wrapped around his cock), to the way you chest heaved when you were out of breath (why couldn’t he be the one to get to you react that way?). All he could think about around you was sex, and he needed to have an outlet for that somewhere.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves when you sit on his face. At first, you were nervous–you didn’t want to hurt him, and you had a friend who broke her neck because her girlfriend sat on it too hard. He joked that if he were to die, he'd die a happy man, but that didn’t help. After enough coaxing, you eventually did it, and realized that you were kind of stupid for not doing it before, and he was stupid good with his tongue.

L: Location (favorite place to have sex)

He prefers a bed above all else, but he won’t say no if you pull him into a storage closet because you just can’t keep your hands off of him any longer. Honestly, he’d do it anywhere you asked–even a car, although he doesn’t fit that well and it hurts his back. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the more adventurous one, but he doesn’t mind–it’s just a new experience for him to try.

M: Motivation (what turns them on?)

If you asked him, he’d say that you breathing turns him on, which is true, but what really gets him going is when you absentmindedly play with him, whether it’s his hands, his sleeve, or his collar, it’s like all the blood rushes to his cock and he’s so lightheaded he might pass out. He knows it’s wrong, but sometimes when you yelp in pain, he has to do breathing exercises to calm down.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do / turn offs)

He can’t bring himself to do anal. Not just because it hurts you, but also because it’s kind of gross.

O: Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? what’s their skill level?)

He loves to give head. If he’s honest, he’d be happy if you never went down on him again, as long as he gets to eat your pretty pussy for the rest of his life. He wasn’t very good at it at first, but he’s a quick learner, and by the end of the first time, he made you see stars you didn’t know existed.

P: Pace (how fast or slow are they?)

If you’re both frustrated, he’ll fuck you hard and fast, but typically, he likes to be slow and gentle. He wants you to feel each inch as he fills you, each drag of his cock inside of you. Rationally, he knows the two of you could have sex whenever you want, but irrationally, he never wants it to end. The longer he keeps you cumming, the longer he gets to have with you.

Q: Quickies (their opinion on quickies)

He doesn’t like them very often, but if you have a couple cases back to back like you did after the pig farm, he’s ecstatic when you pull him aside for a quick fumble in the dark.

R: Risk (do they like to experiment?)

Everything is an experiment for this man, since he’s never really done anything before you. He’s happy with it though, and he’d do anything you asked him to, as long as you really wanted it. If you told him to hop on one foot naked on a balcony he thinks he would do it. You would never ask that, though, which he’s grateful for.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last?)

The first time he fucked you, he lasted a total of five seconds. He was super embarrassed, of course, but with time, his stamina grew and he can fuck you for nearly a half an hour now, maybe even longer if he takes breaks. He knows the average time it takes for a man to orgasm is seven minutes, so he’s grateful he finally beat that statistic.

T: Toys (do they use toys? how?)

He doesn’t use toys on himself, but he loves to use them on you. He loves to see you writhe when he uses a vibrator on your clit, drinking in your high-pitched moans when he changes the position or setting. He doesn’t use dildos on you often, but every once and a while, it’s nice to watch you get fucked and actually be able to pay attention to something other than holy shit you’re so wet oh my god, because usually, he can’t.

U: Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He’ll tease you for days if he has the chance, leaving you a pathetic, wet mess until he finally gives in and touches you exactly how you need.

V: Volume (how loud are they?)

Spencer Reid is nothing if not vocal. He’s always babbling about how good you’re doing, how good you feel, how badly and how long he’s wanted this. He can’t help but whine and moan pathetically when you touch him, and he’s not too shy to beg for what he wants.

W: Wildcard (a random headcanon)

He’ll never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he thinks it’s hot when you cry, as long as you aren’t upset. He loves to kiss and wipe away your tears, and he hates how his cock twitches when your eyes get all glossy. You actually noticed before he did, but you never said anything because you don’t want to embarrass him.

X: X-Ray (what’s going on under those clothes?)

He’s tall and slender, with a very low body fat content. He doesn’t work out very often, which leads him to still be soft on his stomach and chest. He’s got hair, but it’s very light and you can barely see it, outside of the tuft in his pants. His cock is long, thick, and cut, with a shiny red tip when he’s hard.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he met you, he didn’t think he’d ever have sex, but then he laid eyes on you, and he’s been eternally horny ever since.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s tired, but he can stay up until you fall asleep–just know, he’s not that far behind you.

[incorrect-seafam-quotes]

Percy: Do we have any salt?

Triton, sarcastically: Little brother, you are quiet literally made of salt and surrounded by it.

Percy, dryly: Hahaha. I meant processed salt for french fries.

Triton: What, you can't convert it yourself? Oh wait - that's right, you can't because you turned down godhood-

Percy: I had a good reason! Many good reasons, actually-

Poseidon, looking distraught: Many?!

Kymopoleia: -Yeah, and how did that work out for you?

Poseidon, aside to Amphitrite: Excuse me, I need to re-evaluate and update my 165 step plan to convince Percy to ascend or accept immortality.

Amphitrite, setting her fork down angrily: What did I say about bringing that up at the dining table? Look - you've upset your father and now he's going to spend the rest of the week throwing hurricanes at Florida.

[jmliebert]

♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible. 

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit. 

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him. 

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you. 

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on. 

You do not. 

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice. 

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory. 

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees. 

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it. 

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (10)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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

PART 9 // MASTERLIST

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

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 10) — NASHVILLE

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

liked by bestfriend, harryfan15, gemmastyles and 706,789 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Chicago, IL. 

View all 75,678 comments  harryfan39 EXCUSE ME??? SIR?????? harryfan235 🥵🥵🥵 harryfan991 I WAS WAITING FOR A CHICAGO POST  BUT DAMN I WAS NOT WAITING FOR THIS  harryfan75 this is hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot harryfan73 did harry basically left the stage in nashville and thought “shit i forgot to post about chicago”? lol

↳ harryfan77 let’s give him a break he was busy in Chicago 🤭 ↳ harryfan73 oh yeah thats right. yn kept him busy.

harryfan29 sooooo…. is there any chance yn took these? lol

↳ harryfan28 is there any chance you people can at least for once acknowledge Anthony’s job? you talk as if he didn’t even exist is so freaking disrespectful to his own talent and experience  ↳ harryfan29 …. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to Anthony it was just a joke  ↳ harryfan28 well then be more careful about the things you joke about 

harryfan70 😮‍💨 thank God we have Anthony !  harryfan123 SHOW WAS SO GOOD TONIGHT  harryfan99 come back pls Chicago already misses you :(  harryfan192 boy you look fine 😮‍💨 harryfan1 where is yn i need to know if she was around when this happened

↳ harryfan35 don’t worry I bet she was  ↳ harryfan43 yeah! probably is there after tonight’s show as well 😌 ↳ harryfan1 LMAO guys nooooooo ↳ harryfan1 i asked because i need to know if she got to film this moment so i can ask for the footage!! was thinking about ME not her LMAOOOO  ↳ harryfan3 AHHHHH  ↳ harryfan3 GOOD THINKING YES  ↳ harryfan3 i need a movie of harry taking a bath in my desk by tomorrow pls ↳ harryfan53 ＠yourinstagram please !!!! ↳ harryfan98 FINALLY!!! 😭 people need to understand that i want her to follow him around 24/7 bc i want her to film him 24/7 that’s all!!! idgaf if they’re dating or not!!!!

harryfan96 harry are you ok? blink if you need help ! we are here for you !! we love you !!  harryfan345 THANK YOU ANTHONY 🙏 real ones know who the real one is

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by harrystyles, bestfriend, annetwist, and 91,819 others

yourinstagram I wasn’t sure whether to bring up my mom’s birthday or not, but I just hung up the phone with her for the fourth time today, and I realized I couldn’t go to bed without shouting to the world how much I love her. The woman who started everything for me. My existence, my passion for filming, and even my career. I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t carried me for 9 months in her belly, but I also wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t loved & supported me through all these years, if she hadn’t encouraged all my dreams, or if she hadn’t so excitedly agreed to let me film her during such a vulnerable moment and then share it on a YouTube channel for strangers to watch. It is only fitting that her video was the one that changed my life, and maybe that’s why it has been so hard to stay away today. It’s not the first time we spent a celebration apart from each other, but it is definitely the time I miss her the most. 

So at the end of the day, this isn’t a post to say happy birthday to my mom, because I’ve said it (and sung it) to her multiple times today. But it is a post to let everyone know that I think my mom is the best mom in the world, that I admire her, and that she inspires me everyday. 

And whilst there are a lot of things that I want to keep private about me and my personal life, the love I have for her will never be one of them. ❤️

view all 8,118 comments  bestfriend you have me in tears ❤️  bestfriend btw I called her this afternoon and we spent 20 minutes gushing about you 

↳ yourinstagram yeah ↳ yourinstagram I’ve heard all about it already  ↳ bestfriend really? ALL about it? 👀  ↳ yourinstagram 🙄 ↳ bestfriend hahaha ooooops!  ↳ harryfan3 hi! hello! please let me in!! ↳ harryfan9 ohhh now I’m curious!! loll what did you talk about?  ↳ harryfan7 for real tho 😩 

user25 👏👏 very well written! You’re very lucky to have such a positive connection with your mother, and she’s very lucky to have a daughter that appreciates her. Happy birthday to your mom, and lots of love to you both!

↳ yourinstagram thank you! ❤️ I feel very lucky, indeed!

user1 ahh, i still go back to that video from time to time! love it so much! it isn’t the one that started everything for me, but im proud to say i was already here to see how it changed your life. crazy to think how different things are now! but im happy to see that you have such a beautiful support system to get you through all this madness! im sure your mom is amazing, because she raised an amazing daughter! <3

↳ yourinstagram thank you for being here all along ❤️ it really means a lot!

harryfan5 these pictures!! AGHHH! SO PRETTY! and so aesthetically pleasing!! 

↳ yourinstagram right? always thought she had the coolest pictures, and im pretty sure thats what pushed me into this path haha thanks, Emma! ❤️ ↳ harryfan9 !!!!!!! girlllllll  ↳ ynharryenthusiast not the “Emma” at the end 😭 ↳ harryfan5 😭😭😭 ILYSM

harryfan60 am I the only who saw Harry calling yn out during the show tonight? the man had to ask a million times for her to film the gender reveal LMAO harryfan60 imagine your boss not trusting you do to your job I’D FOLD user5 What a beautiful, emotional post! harryfan22 now that you proved you know how to properly spell words why don’t you stop writing so many stupid captions?  annetwist Happy birthday to your mum! ❤️ harryfan11 yn interacting with us????? did we go back in time??

↳ user2 lol tell me about it! I miss the old times every time she posts now ↳ user13 yeah :( then the trolls arrived and once again ruined all the fun  ↳ harryfan17 istg these people can’t even respect her mother’s birthday…  ↳ harryfan19 it blows my mind bc yn didn’t give them ONE SINGLE REASON for them to act like this!! AT ALL!!!

harryfan45 ＠HARRYSTYLES YOU KNOW WE CAN SEE YOU, RIGHT? 🤨 

↳ harryfan45 why don’t you just follow her? lol ＠harrystyles  ↳ harryfan44 because he doesn’t want to ↳ harryfan45 boohooo!! and yet here he is liking her post anyway, isn’t heeee  ↳ harryfan44 how do you know it’s him? it could be anyone behind his account ↳ harryfan45 sure thing hunnnn 😚

lookitsnyoh 🦥❤️

↳ paulithepsm 🦥❤️ ↳ pillowpersonpp 🦥❤️ ↳ mitchrowland 🦥❤️ ↳ _basselin 🦥❤️ ↳ glenne_azoff 🦥❤️ ↳ jefezoff 🦥❤️ ↳ mollyjane_x 🦥❤️ ↳ harryfan3 i loveeeee when they do this!!! ↳ harryfan15 i want to be part of this toooooooo 🦥❤️ ↳ harryfan9 all here but harry guys? did you forget to let him in? LOLLL 

harryfan44 How does your mom feel about your latest post? Bet she wouldn’t be proud of you as her daughter if she saw it ! Bet she’s embarrassed of you ! 

↳ harryfan5 omg wtf???? this is so disrespectful??? ↳ harryfan44 Yn was the disrespectful one when she mentioned the o word! ↳ user14 the “o word”? lmao how old are you?  ↳ harryfan27 wait whats the o word?  ↳ harryfan25 orgasm? i think? ↳ harryfan27 HAHAHAHA  ↳ user16 i have a theory that if you’re not comfortable enough to say the word orgasm then you’re not old enough to be online interacting with +25yo  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm ↳ harryfan27 orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm  ↳ harryfan29 orgasm!!! ↳ harryfan31 🤣  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm orgasm  ↳ harryfan11 ORGASM!!!  ↳ bestfriend orgasm ↳ bestfriend also, please fuck the fuck off  ↳ bestfriend 🖕

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by someone and 203,154 others 

popgossip HELLO LITTLE ONES! DID YOU MISS ME? POPGOSSIP AT YOUR SERVICE AGAIN! 

Hours ago I was gifted by a follower with a one-time only opportunity to get back into business, so I immediately reached out to my favorite human (that shall forever remain anonymous to you) and gathered some fresh and exclusive info for you. 

And as you’ll see, I am not only coming back after the longest state of hibernation, but I am also coming back with the yummiest popstar of them all: HARRY STYLES! 😍🤤

YES, YES, YES! THAT’S RIGHT! For once I got to play detective in a story involving him, the one and only, Harry Styles!

I barely got a taste of it, but things got so interesting and fun already that I’m determined to dive into these mysteries with all I have! 

For now, these are the screenshots that I gathered, but the digging isn’t over yet so follow me if you want to get updated on every detail about Harry Styles’ life 📨

FINALLY, the info I have for you is 100% exclusive and fresh, so buckle up guys!

Sincerely, 

🕵‍♂️🔎🕵‍♀️.

view all 20,909 comments  someone1 OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE BACK someone2 shit I forgot how much intell you used to share with us harryfan49 STOP THIS IS ABOUT HARRY AND YN!!!!!!! harryfan77 is this from tonight? 😲 are we supposed to believe in it?

↳ harryfan3 I wouldn’t pay too much attention to it ↳ harryfan11 even if they’re saying yn was crying???  ↳ harryfan3 yes, because actually it’s not up to us to know if/when she cries or not.

ynharryenthusiast this is actually so disrespectful to harry and yn. please leave them alone.  harryfan44 are you telling me this isn’t exactly what yn wanted?  harryfan44 if she didn’t want anyone to know about her crying, then she shouldn’t have cried in public space !! harryfan77 at least they left yn’s picture out of the screenshot 

↳ user7 after exposing her like this it’s the least they can do 

harryfan196 ＠popgossip remember when you used to do that thing of reading people’s theories and fact checking them?!! 😉😏

↳ harryfan196 so my theory is that yn saw the comments on her last post and got upset so she went outside and called her friend or maybe her mom then someone from the band told harry about it and that’s why he chased her and why he wanted to talk about it and she didn’t !!!!!!!! why she didn’t want him to see her crying !!!!!!! ↳ popgossip On it, babe! 🔎

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by harryfan13, harryfan99, harryfan71, and 3,321 others 

harryupdates More lucky fans just met Harry in Nashville! He also took some time to facetime their cousin (who’s also a fan!). 

view all 507 comments  harryfan88 WTF GUYS?? 😭 am I the only one who isn’t in nashville meeting harry right now?? harryfan17 harry spending the day with tyler and meeting fans is so soft harryfan17 dont ask me why i cant explain it but i think it is okay. it really is harryfan20 was anyone brave enough to ask if Yn was actually crying and sobbing like a baby last night? lollll  harryfan5 THAT’S LUCYYYYY GUYSSS harryfan5 LUCY IS THE SWEETEST OMG harryfan5 SHE DESERVES IT SOOOOO MUCH! :’)  harryfan25 the way harry always makes people feel special and heard and seen <3 harryfan24 👏👏 harryfan24 i stand by what i said: the day is better when yn isn’t around!!

↳ harryfan32 i noticed that, too!  ↳ harryfan24 yeah!! look how many fans got to meet him bc she wasn’t there  ↳ harryfan9 whyyyyyy are you guys so obsessed with her omg!! ↳ harryfan24 i’m not obsessed i’m just happy harry got rid of her 😚 ↳ harryfan7 lol sure hun! let’s see what happens tomorrow for show 2 in nashville, then ↳ harryfan24 at least you admit he only cares about her during shows LOL

harryfan31 i cant love this man any more than i already do 😭 my heart srsly cant take it harryfan139 he doesn’t look ok :(

↳ harryfan6 🙄 you can’t even see his face ↳ harryfan139 i know… but something in his eyes doesn’t seem right :( ↳ harryfan48 he’s worried because his fake gilfriend’s friend was rude to his fans. he doesn’t want to be with her anymore but it’s being forced to anyway! ↳ harryfan5 holy molly now THAT’S a way to tell the story lmaooooo 

harryfan42 CAN WE PLEASE STOP IGNORING THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM? harryfan42 YN WAS SEEN CRYING LAST NIGHT AND HARRY CLEARLY HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT AND NOW SHE WASN’T SEEN WITH HIM ALL DAY EVEN THOUGH SHE NORMALLY IS FOLLOWING HIM EVERYWHERE 24/7

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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liked by bestfriend, user1, harryfan5, and 191 others

ynupdates 👀🔥

Anthony Pham (Harry Styles Tour photographer) just posted on instagram and tagged ＠yourinstagram. 

She then reposted the story and added a caption to the picture: “hey mom, i hope this will make you proud”. 

I think it’s pretty safe to assume they’re hanging out together, and that Yn’s words are a dig to some of the comments she got on her last post. 

Now the question that remains is: is that Yn’s ass? 😅

view all 31 comments user5 you have absolutely no idea how much I love this user5 like I swear I respect her silence and privacy to death, but ngl it’s been so hard to watch lol harryfan5 DAAAAAMMMNNNN YN  harryfan11 respectfully, 💋💋💋 harryfan23 hey cowboy ＠harrystyles  bestfriend i can 100% confirm, that’s her ass!  bestfriend i can also 100% confirm that’s her mom’s new background now

↳ ynharryenthusiast THANK YOU  ↳ harryfan23 you’re the real queen babe ↳ harryfan17 please never leave us

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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liked by user5, harryfan7, user13 and 97 others

ynupdates Good morning guys! Anthony and Yn are at it again lol 

Tonight Harry Styles performs in Nashville one more time, meaning Yn will be there filming and doing her job! 

We’re loving to see she’s speaking up but also handling things with humor, and we hope she knows there are a lot of people supporting her, too ❤️

view all 11 comments user9 not them making fun of people who say she doesn’t know how to do her job LMAO harryfan3 she really said i’m done holding back didn’t she :’)  harryfan7 I LOVE THIS SIDE OF HER user11 everyone around him loves her and people just cant handle that!!  

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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— — — — — 

PART 11 — (soon)

— — — — —

[bwobgames]

They see a slumped, defeated looking Owen and a pensive Simon on one of the tables.

“Now that’s not the mood for a fancy train ride. Cheer up, strange creatures!”

“No can do, for the future only brings ruin. Forked paths. Uncertain fate. Such an herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“What”

“We’re thinking”

“Are you?”

“They’re bummed out because they have to choose a career for university”

“WHA- WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”

“Around”

“Is that what’s worrying you? Career prospects?”

“It’s more than that! I took a year off to ~find myself~ but uh. I mostly played videogames and got a cool haircut”

“And now I have to actually do the damn thing, and I still haven’t found out what I want to do!”

“It’s alright Owen, the university life is not for everyone.”

“No no, I know that! But I need to know what is it that I want to do for the rest of my life!”

“That does sound like a Herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“Well, what is it that you like to do?”

“Uh. Listen to Medieval versions of popular music?”

“…As like. A hobbie”

“Don’t worry, a lot of people don’t end up working as the thing they studied. I was a security guard for a good while!”

“Security! That’s it!”

“A security expert? That’s a noble job”

“I’LL BECOME THE NEXT DOMINION!”

“The guy is nowhere to be found, and people found he sold all the stuff he stole so he must be loaded, right?”

“And! I get to have a cool costume!”

“You think it’s cool…?”

("He thinks it's cool?!")

“Owen that’s how you get in jail. And at least a few broken bones. A person needs to be borderline crazy to believe they can pull off the stuff Dominion did”

“Because he was like no other, truly. Amazing, mysterious, charming…”

“A complete lunatic”

“less than three”

“wh- Did you say the heart emoji out loud?”

“Well, if I can’t be Twominion then what do you think I should be, Mr. B- Oliver Beebo?”

Hmm… Something that Owen would enjoy…

“I think you’d do it well”

“Well, that does sound fun, but uh, isn’t that a bit… low on employment?”

“That is true, but. Does it really matter for your type?”

“My type?”

“Rich people."

"You have connections. Your parents have connections. No matter how low-end a career path might be, you’ll get to do anything because of your family’s name”

“Ollie, you’re not wrong but I don’t think that’s what the kid wants to hear right now…”

“Why not? It means he’s free to do whatever he wants. Look at Nadia”

“Oliver…”

“She’s studying film. In a country with barely any movie productions. Less so known ones aside from some closed circles. On a private University.”

“Yet she’ll be able to do all the movies she wants and be successful because the Margulis name is strong”

“…Excuse you. Are you implying I’m not able to be successful on my own?”

“Ah, you certainly have talent Nadia, I wouldn’t say anything against that”

“But that talent can be found in millions of people. People who might be even more talented. But we’ll never know because they won’t be able to reach the place it has been given to you on talent alone”

“You will. Because you have money. Because you were born with money.”

“…You-“

“SIMON! HAHA WHAT ABOUT YOU SIMON? HUH? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO STUDY HAHA”

“C’mon Beeb, only I’m allowed to fight the child”

(“Fight?")

Simon thinks for a second

“…Marine Biology”

“Although mom always gets weird when I say it. I think she might hate fishes”

“Bu- But you are good at cooking yeah? Didn’t you love cooking?”

“I am good at it but… The cooking scene isn’t very nice…”

“And I refuse to cook Lobster! It’s terrible and cruel!”

“Well, what if you become a vet! And specialize in fish! Or become the owner of an aquarium!”

“That just seems like a roundabout way to get to marine biology”

“You could have your own restaurant! Fish free!”

“I think it’s fine."

"If you like it and you think you can make it, then go ahead. Biology is hard though, think about that”

“I’m pretty good at it”

He seems relieved.

While he can’t speak for the others, his blonde roots and white shirt made his eyes look… almost green.

Eugene never got to study what he loved. He’ll make sure Simon does.

<-PREV START NEXT->

[winteringdream]

𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑼𝑮𝑳𝒀 — 𝑻𝑨𝑬𝑺𝑨𝑵

You've had a small crush on Taesan since your first year of university Now that second year has begun, you're determined to get to know him better. Your first meetings with him are ugly to say the least. But as you try to connect with him, you realize that Taesan struggles to show his feelings. Will the two of you manage to show each other how you feel, or will your feelings remain untold?

✩ ⋅ pairing. bio major!taesan x bio major fem!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, angst, university!au, mutual pining (i tried) ✩ ⋅ warnings. alcohol intake, miscommunication, ankle injury, mentioning of being followed, reader studies quite hard-core, overworking ✩⋅ wc. 10k ✩⋅ with ive's liz & rei, all of bonedo and triples mayu ✩⋅ a/n: no mentioning of y/n, also the you character is somewhat similar to taesan personality-wise ✩⋅ this is part one! part two coming soon

It was a sunny day. the beginning of what was supposed to be a good academic year. It didn’t last long before you managed to completely embarrass yourself in front of Taesan. A guy you may or may not have a small crush on. 

Your iced tea had spilled all over his books and clothes when you were admiring a cat.  

“I can pay for dry cleaning,” you had blurted out, face burning with embarrassment.

Taesan exhaled sharply, shaking his hands free of the liquid. “Don’t bother.” And then he just walked away.

You were flustered, a mess, to say the least—for five days after the event. Replaying the encounter at least 500 times in your head.

So much for making a good first impression...

You had promised yourself that the next time you’d see him, you’d properly apologise. But you just didn’t think meeting him would happen so soon. 

A few leaves had started to fall, and the temperature outside had started to lower. Shivering in your t-shirt, you scold yourself for not bringing a jacket. 

You look at the time, realising you’re late for class. 

“Shit.” you mutter to yourself. “Class started five minutes ago.” 

Running for your life, you manage to reach the building within two minutes. But, then came the problem. You weren’t familiar with this place at all.

Where was room 523 supposed to be? 

Out of breath you frantically run upstairs, after realising all the classrooms on the first floor start with a 3. 

Your stomach dropped. Wrong floor.

Panicked, you took off toward the stairs, moving too fast to notice the person coming from the opposite direction.

On your way to the second floor, you bump into someone, causing you to tumble down a few steps. 

You look up to see no other than the Han Taesan. Your butt hurt from the fall, but you didn’t have any time to think about the pain.

“I'm sorry I didn't see you.” 

"You’re not even going to say sorry?" you muttered, brushing off your pants. Then, narrowing your eyes, you added,

Taesan barely blinked. “You ran into me.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, but before you could argue, he stepped past you without a second thought.

“Try the next floor up,” he said flatly as he disappeared down the hall.

You exhaled sharply, watching his retreating figure in disbelief.

Unbelievable.

It’s when you’re on your way to the campus cafe after class, your mind wandering when you hear footsteps behind you. 

You quicken your pace, trying to get to the door of the cafe.  You reach the door of the cafe, hand on the handle, and then it happens. He steps up right behind you, closer than you expected. 

You pull the door open, and as you do, it almost hits him. His gaze flickers to you for only a second, barely acknowledging you, before he steps past, his shoulder brushing yours like you’re nothing more than an obstacle in his way.

You blink. Then scoff under your breath.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even bother to say “excuse me,” or the way he acts like you don’t exist, but something inside you deflates.

For a second, you wonder why you even liked him in the first place. The person standing in front of you feels so different from the one you once admired from afar.

You watch as he takes his drink and turns to leave without so much as a glance in your direction.

And that’s when it really sinks in.

You let out a slow breath, the weight of disappointment settling in your chest as you turn toward the counter.

Why am I even trying?

Maybe it’s time to stop. To stop chasing after someone who never cared in the first place.

The thought of Taesan was already floating away and out of your head. You hadn't bumped into him anymore after that day and the seasons had changed. It wasn't winter yet, but it might as well be. It was freezing outside, a thin layer of ice forming on the school fountain. 

It’s late in the evening, and you’re walking on campus, juggling a pile of books in your arms as you head toward the library. You had received an email reminding you that five books you had lent from the library needed to be returned today. 

You should've read your mail earlier, because by the time you had actually read the email it was already 9:30 pm, 30 minutes before the library closing time. 

Why were there no online copies of these books? you complain with a sigh, readjusting the books in your arms. The thick biology textbooks were heavy and completely blocked your view. 

You don’t notice the small puddle that had turned into ice on the ground. You slip, your foot sliding out from under you, and before you can catch yourself, you crash to the floor, the sound of your books hitting the ground echoing.

You wince in pain as you try to sit up, your ankle throbbing immediately from the impact.. You glance around a little embarrassed, hoping no one saw.

Just as you're about to sigh of relief, because no one seems to be around you, your eye catches sight of Taesan. He is standing just a few feet away, walking towards you with his cold look and unreadable expression.

Why is he walking over? 

Quickly composing yourself you try to look around for the books you had just dropped. But before you can stand up, Taesan is standing next to you. 

His eyes flicker over you, lingering on your ankle. His usual impassive gaze shifts, his jaw tightens for a fraction of a second before he exhales quietly. Is he worried?

"You alright?" His voice is low, and despite his usual cold tone, there's an underlying concern.

You laugh nervously, "This is so embarrassing." you mutter to yourself, as you pick up the book closest to you. 

He raises an eyebrow, taken aback by the fact that you're not replying to him like he had expected. 

His gaze flicks down to your ankle and then back up to your face, his posture still stiff, but there's something almost protective in the way he's looking at you now.

Without waiting for your response, he crouches down, carefully taking your ankle in his hands. It’s an unexpected move, and you’re caught off guard by how gentle he is. 

His hands are cold, but his touch is surprisingly tender as he examines your foot, testing for any obvious swelling or injury. 

His hand extends, fingers curling slightly as if debating whether to offer or simply act. You hesitate before grasping it, his grip is steady, warm despite the cold air.

His brow furrows slightly as he ensures you're stable on your feet, his gaze flicking down to your ankle with a quiet, assessing look. 

"Careful," he says, his voice soft but commanding, as if it’s an order rather than a suggestion. For a second, his touch lingers just a bit longer than necessary.

"You shouldn’t walk on it," he mutters, his voice flat but with a hint of care that makes your heart skip a beat. "It could get worse."

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already reaching for your books, picking them up with ease. He doesn’t look at you as he hands them back.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and glancing down at you again. “I’ll walk you to the nurse’s office.”

"No need," you tell him, finally opening your mouth. "I need to return these books today or I'll be fined." 

You attempt to step forward, putting weight on your injured ankle, but the sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you immediately wince, slightly stumbling. 

You bite your lip to keep from making a sound, determined not to show how much it hurts. But before you can take another step, Taesan is already there, his hand holding your arm to steady you. 

His gaze flicks down to your ankle once again, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re not walking on it like that,” he says, his tone more forceful than before.  

Something in you twinges, Taesan, who has been nothing but cold to you is now suddenly trying to help you? 

Without another word, he takes the books from you. Then, to your surprise, he steps a little closer, his shoulder coming up next to yours. “I’ll take you,” he says. 

"Look I don't know what you're trying to do, but I can get it checked out later. I'm telling you these books have to be returned within—" you glance at your phone, panic creeping into your voice as the time flickers at 9:50 p.m. "—10 minutes." 

Without another word, he takes the books from your arms. Then, to your surprise, he steps a little closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I’ll take you,” he says in that calm way of his. “You won’t make it on your own, I’ll get you there in less time.” 

You hesitate, eyeing him, unsure how to react to his quiet confidence. You’ve always known him to be the cold, logical type, the one who keeps to himself, hardly ever showing emotion. So why now? Why would he offer this help when it’s so unlike him?

"How are you going to take me?

Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, you feel the tension between the two of you tighten. There’s a brief pause, and you swear you see a flicker of something in his gaze. Is it surprise? Or amusement?

"Any way I have to," he says. “Even if it means carrying you.”

You blink, caught off guard by his words. Taesan is talking about carrying you? You try to process it, your mind racing, but all you manage to do is stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious or if it’s just another one of his sarcastic remarks.

He looks like he’s already made up his mind about this. "You can’t walk on that. It’ll get worse," he states flatly, as if it's simple logic. "And you don’t have time to waste. Let me do this."

You take a deep breath, feeling the rush of emotions that had built up inside you. The blood is rushing to your cheeks at the thought of Taesan carrying you. 

He’s not the same person you thought he was, and for some reason, that realization leaves you speechless.

“Alright,” you say quietly, finally letting go of the last thread of resistance. You look up at him, offering a small, unsure smile. “If you really think I can’t make it.”

His eyes soften just a touch, though his expression is still as unreadable as ever. He doesn’t smirk or say anything else, just nods once, his movements smooth as he steps a little closer, ready to help.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, and for the first time, there’s something faintly warm in his voice, as though he’s trying to reassure you, though he says nothing more. He puts down the books on the ground, and crouches in front of you. 

You hesitate for only a second before you allow him to carefully lift you, his arms steady around you. He is surprisingly gentle, his grip firm but never forceful. 

Your heart races, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the way he’s holding you, or because for the first time, you’re realizing that Taesan might be showing you a side of him you never thought possible.

Taesan carries you towards a nearby bench, carefully letting you down before walking back to pick up the books. 

"I'll return these for you." He says, somehow the stack of books look lighter in his arms. "Give me your student ID." 

You reach into your pocket, pulling out your wallet. Luckily you had taken a good photo for the ID card. 

You hand him your student ID without a word, but as you do, you catch yourself watching him more closely than usual. 

As Taesan walks over to return your books, his mind is racing with questions.  The task itself is simple, return the books, make sure everything’s done quickly. But even as he holds the stack of books in his arms with his usual calm, his thoughts keep drifting back to you. 

The way he’d carried you, his concern, it's different from how he usually thinks and acts. It feels strange. 

He’s never been one to let his emotions get involved, especially when it comes to others. But something about the way he couldn’t just leave you there, struggling on your own, is bothering him more than it should.

He picks up your student ID, barely glancing at it. Until he does. His gaze hesitates, lingering longer than it should. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around the card before he exhales, expression unreadable once more.

Why was he so insistent about helping you? Why does it bother him that you’re hurt? He knows it shouldn’t.

It’s just an injury, he thinks. And yet, when he saw you struggling, when he saw you hesitating, he couldn't help but care. 

He sets the books down with more force than necessary, the librarian looking at him with confusion. He tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s just overthinking. It’s just books. Just an inconvenience.

As he walks back to you, the feeling lingers, like a quiet hum in the back of his mind. He’s never been the type to get involved like this, to feel the need to make sure someone is okay.

As he nears you, Taesan realizes he’s worried. And he doesn’t know why. 

He’s not sure why, not sure what it means, but for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t have all the answers. And that, more than anything, makes him uneasy.

Your ankle healed quickly, and two days later you’re still thinking about that night.  You try to focus on the lesson, but your mind keeps drifting back. After everything he’d done for you, after helping you with your books, the care he showed. Why was he so confusing?  

One moment he’s cold and distant, not even apologising to you when the two of you bumped against each other. And now he’s suddenly carrying you on his back, returning your books for you?  

How can you feel this way about someone who’s been so cold to you? You groan, sinking lower into your seat, your hands tangled in your hair. The soft murmur of your classmates fades into the background as you try to push the thoughts aside. 

Taesan enters the classroom like a shadow. He takes a seat in front of you, tossing his bag into the seat beside him without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to look around, just pulls his head down onto the desk with a soft, exhausted sigh. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, and you can’t decide whether it makes you feel worse for him or more confused about everything that’s happened between you two. 

You hate how much you’re thinking about him, how his presence so easily takes over your mind. You wonder if he’s still thinking about last night, if he’s wishing he hadn’t stepped in. And the thought stabs at you, suddenly leaving you feeling guilty, and even more tangled up inside.

He hasn’t even glanced at you. But for some reason, that distance feels even more confusing than the moments when he’s so close. 

After the lecture the lecture hall is slowly emptying out, and you're packing your things into your bag, preparing to leave. 

Leehan, a marine sciences student, walks over to him with a grin on his face. 

"Taesan!" Leehan calls out, and Taesan looks up, just slightly, his eyes flicking toward his friend.

"Jaehyun is hosting a party this weekend," Leehan continues, "You wanna come? You’ve been buried in your books for ages, man. It’s about time you took a break."

Taesan doesn’t immediately respond, glancing briefly at Leehan before his eyes drift toward the door. For a moment, it looks like he’s debating the offer in his mind.

"Come on, a little chaos won’t kill you," Leehan nudges him with a teasing push. "Besides, we both know Jaehyun’s gonna keep asking until you say yes. Might as well save yourself the trouble."

Taesan's gaze shifts away again, his expression remaining as unreadable as always. He seems distracted, almost lost in thought. His shoulders shift slightly, but there’s no real indication of whether he’s interested or not.

Leehan, noticing his friend's hesitation, adds with a grin, "Just show up for an hour. No one’s expecting you to dance on tables. Just exist in the same space as other humans for once."

Taesan remains silent for a moment longer, looking at Leehan, then back down at his bag. Finally, he responds in his usual calm, detached way, "I’ll think about it."

Leehan laughs, shaking his head. "Mhm, sure. But if you don’t show up, Jaehyun will drag you there himself and you know he won’t shut up about it the whole night."

Later that evening, you’re sitting on your bed, flipping through some notes when Rei, your roommate, bursts through the door with a wide grin plastered on her face. 

“Guess what?” she says, practically bouncing with excitement. “Jaehyun’s hosting a party this weekend. You should come with me!”

You glance up at her.“A party? I don’t know,I’ve got so much stuff to catch up on.”

Rei flops down on the bed next to you, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, you’ve been studying nonstop. You need to unwind! It’s going to be fun, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re not stuck in some corner by yourself. You’ll have a good time.” 

You feel a tug of hesitation, Rei’s always so convincing. Plus, you know she’ll be there, and she’s great at pulling you into her whirlwind of energy.

"I don’t know, Rei” you trail off, glancing at the pile of work on your desk. "I could use the time to catch up on some stuff."

Rei shakes her head, already knowing where this is going. “You always say that, but you never actually get any work done when you stay in. Trust me, you’ll feel way better after letting loose for just one night.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile on your face. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But you’re not leaving me to get lost in the crowd alone."

“It’s not just me, Liz and Mayu are going too.” She laughs when she sees your eyes light up. The four of you haven’t met up in a while, and the thought of reuniting makes you happy already.

Rei gets up, already heading to her side of the room to change, humming to herself. You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, feeling a little bit of your own reluctance fade away. 

The weekend rolls around, and despite your hesitation, you find yourself standing outside Jaehyun’s apartment with Rei, Liz, and Mayu.

"I swear, I haven’t seen Jaehyun throw a party like this in months," Liz says, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. The bass from the music vibrates the ground beneath your feet.

“I haven't been to a party like this in ages." You chuckle, adjusting the small shoulder bag. 

Mayu laughs, looping her arm through yours as she leads you toward the door. "Exactly! And you haven’t had any fun in ages either."

The four of you chuckle, walking through the door of Jaehyun’s house. You step inside, immediately hit by the heavy thrum of music and the overwhelming scent of alcohol and perfume. 

The living room is packed, people are dancing, talking, and laughing, and the air is thick with energy. Rei takes the time to greet a few of her friends. 

“Sungho!” Rei exclaims, waving in his direction. You and Mayu exchange confused glances but Liz is quick to fill the two of you in. 

“New friend she made,” She whispers to the two of you. You nod, trying to make sense of the new information. Sungho looks like he’s part of the crowd, laughing and chatting easily with everyone, while Rei joins him with a wide grin on her face. You watch them for a second before turning your attention back to the rest of the party.

The room is alive with chatter, flashing lights, and the steady thrum of bass. You can feel the familiar knot of discomfort form in your stomach. You’ve never been the party type, but you promised Rei you’d at least try.

“Come on,” Mayu says, nudging you gently. “Let’s get some drinks, and maybe find a spot to relax. No need to dive straight into the chaos.”

You smile gratefully, following her as she guides you through the crowded room. You can see a long line of people near the bar, everyone laughing and shouting to be heard over the music. You figure you’ll grab something light, maybe just a drink to ease the tension in your shoulders.

Suddenly, your eyes catch something familiar.

Standing near the far end of the living room, Taesan stands off to the side, more noticeable in this environment. He’s wearing a dark jacket over his usual casual clothes, and his expression is unreadable as he observes the crowd. 

Your heart stutters slightly, remembering once again, that time he helped you with your books. He doesn’t notice you staring, or if he does, he gives no indication of it. His attention is on a conversation between Jaehyun and Woonhak, though he’s clearly not involved in their loud conversation. 

"Here you go," Mayu interrupts your thoughts, handing you a drink. You take it with a polite nod, still glancing in Taesan’s direction.

Mayu follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “You know him?” she asks, her voice low enough that it’s mostly drowned out by the music.

You blink and quickly turn your attention back to her. “Sort of. We’re in a couple of the same classes. He helped me with something once.” You don’t go into detail about the books, though a part of you wonders why you feel the need to downplay it.

Mayu smirks knowingly, her eyes darting back to Taesan. “Interesting. He doesn’t seem like the party type.”

You can’t help but agree with that. Taesan looks out of place here, You wonder why he even bothered coming. Maybe Jaehyun convinced him, like Rei did to you.

The moment stretches on as you continue to observe him, torn between curiosity and discomfort. Finally, Mayu nudges you. "You gonna go say hi?"

The question is a little too direct, and you feel your cheeks warm, even though you can’t really explain why. You don’t know if it’s the party atmosphere or the fact that Taesan is so different from everyone else here, but you suddenly feel a little nervous.

"I don’t know," you mumble, taking a sip of your drink, scrunching your face at the taste. "What did you put in this?"

“Is it that bad?" She replies, taking a sip as well. “Ooh, it’s got a little kick to it. Don’t worry, maybe it’s a good idea to get drunk considering your hesitation to go up to him.” 

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Mayu’s right, though. It would be weird to just leave it hanging.

You take another glance at Taesan, and this time, your eyes meet. There’s a brief moment of recognition between the two of you, but then he immediately looks away, back to his drink.

The night starts to blur together, the music pulses through the floor, the lights flash, and before you know it, you’re on your third drink, not realizing you might have had one too many.

Your head feels light, your thoughts a little foggy, and your body is just warm enough to make you feel oddly detached from the world around you. It’s not that you’re drunk, just tipsy.

You glance over toward Taesan, and for some reason, your heart picks up pace. There’s something about the way he’s standing there that makes you want to talk to him, but something keeps holding you back.

Rei and Liz are laughing about something near the punch bowl, and Mayu is already halfway through a conversation with some guy you don’t recognize. 

You stand there for a moment, the noise of the party swirling around you, but all you can focus on is the distance between you and Taesan. Your heart thumps louder in your chest with each passing second, and it’s becoming harder to ignore the pull to go up to him. 

You take another sip of your drink, the alcohol only making you feel lighter, more detached from the moment.

For some reason, your body won’t move, though. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between you and Taesan, one you can’t quite get past. You try to convince yourself it’s because the party's just too chaotic, too loud for any real conversation, but deep down, you know it’s more than that.

You steal another glance at him. He’s still standing there, drink in hand, his gaze flicking across the room but never settling on anything or anyone. 

Just as you're about to look away and find another distraction, you catch his eyes again. This time, it’s longer. You can’t tell if it’s intentional or if it’s just a coincidence, but there’s a subtle change in his expression when he meets your gaze. 

It’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. For a brief second, you’re aware of how close he is, in a way that feels strange. 

"Go on, say something,” you tell yourself, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor.

You take another sip of your drink, but it’s barely registering on your tongue anymore. The thoughts are starting to swirl in your head, and you’re not sure whether the alcohol is making it worse or if you’re just being you.

“You should talk to him,” Mayu’s voice suddenly breaks through the fog, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink, and Mayu’s standing next to you now, an amused smile on her face. She must’ve noticed you staring at Taesan.

“I- what?” You stammer, a little flustered, your cheeks burning despite the alcohol running through your system. You turn your head quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of nerves.

“Come on, I see the way you’re looking at him. Go talk to him,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“I don’t know. He looks busy.” You try to shrug it off, but the words feel weak in your mouth.

Mayu raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re drunk, huh?” she asks, sounding amused but concerned at the same time.

“I’m fine,” you quickly reply, though your voice wavers slightly.

Mayu doesn’t look convinced, but she gives you a reassuring smile. “Okay, well, if you don’t go, I’m going to make you,” she says, her tone teasing. “You never know until you try.”

With a quick shake of your head, you tell Mayu, “Okay, okay, I’ll go talk to him.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, but you’re suddenly moving with confidence.

Mayu smiles brightly as you start making your way toward Taesan. You can feel your heart racing as you push through the crowd, trying to keep your composure.

As you get closer, you can feel the thrum of the music in your chest, the chaos of the party fading away a little. And then you’re standing right in front of him, your breath catching a little as you finally find yourself face-to-face with him.

“Hey,” you say a little too quickly, the word tumbling out before you can stop it. You’re suddenly very aware of how loud the music is, how everyone else around you seems to be talking and laughing, leaving you standing here in the middle of it all, heart thudding in your chest.

"Hey," he says simply, his voice calm, not as stiff as usual, but still carrying that quiet tone. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, but you can tell he's taken a moment to adjust to you being here, standing in front of him,

You open your mouth, unsure of what to say next. It’s a little embarrassing that you’ve come this far and now you’re not sure what the hell to do with yourself.

“Uh, it’s loud in here,” you say, realizing how ridiculous it sounds the moment the words leave your mouth.

Taesan looks around the room for a moment, as though weighing your observation. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice low. 

You take another sip of your drink, trying to play it cool, but the alcohol’s already got your head feeling a little too light. 

You can tell by the way his gaze lingers on you that he's picking up on something. His eyes shift slightly, scanning you in a way that's more thoughtful than usual. 

"You okay?" he asks, his tone softer now. "You look a little off."

You blink, not realizing that your body has started to sway ever so slightly, the edges of your vision blurring just a little. It’s not like you’re completely drunk, but the alcohol’s definitely made everything feel hazy, and you're suddenly very aware that maybe you’ve overdone it with the drinks.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, but even to your own ears, your voice sounds a little slurred. You smile awkwardly, hoping it doesn’t come off as obvious.

Taesan raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You sure?" He glances at your drink, and then back to you.

You nod, too eager to prove you're not completely tipsy. "Yeah, yeah, just a little tipsy." You let out a half-hearted laugh, but it doesn’t sound as confident as you hoped.

He seems to be studying you now, his expression unreadable. There's a quiet tension in the air, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said something wrong, if you’ve ruined the moment before it even had a chance to start.

Taesan shifts a little, adjusting his grip on his drink, but doesn't say anything right away.

“Want me to get you some water?”

The offer is unexpected, and you blink at him for a moment, feeling a wave of warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less offer to help. It’s the kind of thing you would never have expected from someone like him. 

“Yeah, maybe” You laugh a little, feeling like an idiot now. “Thanks.”

He nods once, then turns away. You can’t help but watch him for a second longer. When he returns with the water, he hands it to you wordlessly. 

You take it gratefully, immediately sipping it to try and clear some of the fog in your head. As you drink, you notice him watching you, his expression still as unreadable as always.

"Better?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod, feeling the cool liquid help clear your head just a little. "Yeah, thanks," you murmur, suddenly feeling a little more grounded.

There’s a brief moment of silence between you two, the loud music and chatter of the party filling the space around you. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to continue the conversation now. 

You’re not sure what to say next, but for the first time tonight, it feels okay to just be here with him, even in the chaos of the party.

"Thanks," you say again, looking up at him. "I didn’t think you’d care."

Taesan looks at you. “I don’t like seeing people uncomfortable,” he says, indifferent.

You swallow, thinking back to that night again. Was it all just kindness? Had you taken his kindness as a sign that he was interested?

"You don’t seem like the type to care," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

You blink, suddenly realizing the weight of what you just said, your cheeks flushing as you try to clarify what you mean. “I just mean, you don’t seem like the type to care.”

"It's alright," he says quietly. "But it's kind of interesting how you think you know me."

Your cheeks flush even more, a wave of warmth creeping up from your neck to your face as you try to recover from the awkwardness. 

You let out a nervous laugh, “I didn’t mean it like that,” you repeat, "You just seem like the type who doesn’t really get involved, you know?"

Taesan tilts his head slightly, considering you, his eyes never leaving your face. He takes another slow sip of his drink, clearly unbothered by your awkwardness.

"Maybe I’m not," he replies, "Maybe I am."

"You don't have to," you mumble. The alcohol, the proximity to him, and the faint warmth in the air all mix together to make you feel light-headed.

Finally, he lets out a quiet exhale and shifts slightly, lowering his voice. "I guess it depends on whether I want to or not."

Your heart skips a beat, his words hanging in the air, leaving you to wonder if you’ve misread everything. Is he toying with you? 

You take a small step back, the warmth of the alcohol in your veins making everything feel a little more intense than usual. But then doubt creeps in, maybe you’ve been overthinking this. 

Maybe he was just kind to you that night, when he helped you with the books, because that’s what he does. He’s not interested, he’s just being Taesan.

You blink, trying to shake off the feeling, but the more you think about it, the more unsure you become. You had hoped for something more, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

"Maybe I’m just imagining things," you think to yourself, the self-doubt sinking in. You’re tipsy, and your thoughts feel muddled. You don’t even know why you’re standing here, talking to him, trying to figure out something that probably isn’t there in the first place.

Taesan seems to notice the shift in your demeanor, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes stay fixed on you, his posture still relaxed as if nothing’s changed. 

You open your mouth to say something, to smooth over the awkwardness, but the words die in your throat. What could you even say?

You let out a breath and try to shake off the uncertainty, turning back to the noise and laughter around you.

You open your mouth, but before you can say anything else, Rei appears next to you, snapping you out of the moment. 

“Hey! Are you guys having fun over here?” She grins at the two of you, clearly not picking up on the subtle tension in the air.

You glance at Taesan, unsure whether you should continue this conversation or just let it go. 

“Yeah, we are done talking.” you say, as if nothing had happened between the two of you just now. Though inside, you're stung by the harsh realization that Taesan’s help was just a kind gesture, not a sign of anything more, and you can’t help but feel a little foolish for thinking otherwise.

“Well, if you’re done with your little chat, there’s a whole crowd of people waiting to dance. Come on!” Rei grins, linking arms with you. “It was nice meeting you, uhm” 

“Taesan.” 

“It was nice meeting you, Taesan!” Rei says, before pulling you away toward the dance floor, her energy as infectious as ever. 

You don’t dare to glance back at Taesan, trying to forget about him all together. You shouldn’t have been foolish to think he was interested in the first place. 

The rest of the night is a blur, and by the time you’re heading home with Rei, your head’s still spinning from the alcohol, the music, and the confusing conversation you had with Taesan.

You lie in bed later, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. But no answers come, only more questions. 

You roll over onto your side, pulling the covers tighter around you, but it does little to ease the unease swirling inside you. The night keeps replaying in your mind, the way Taesan looked at you, his words, the strange shift in the air between you two. 

You had convinced yourself, before, that it was something more, but now it’s clear that it was nothing more than his usual detached kindness.

You sigh, frustrated with yourself. You shouldn’t have expected anything different from him. He’s always been distant, so why would tonight be any different? 

You close your eyes, but the moment when your eyes met his flashes back in your mind. A brief flicker of something, but was it real? Or were you just reading too much into it?

Your heart aches, but you push the thought away. You can’t keep dwelling on this. He doesn’t care about you like that, and you shouldn’t have let yourself hope.

As Taesan sits on his bed later that night, the dim light of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room, his thoughts keep drifting back to the brief conversation you had at the party. 

He hadn’t meant to make things awkward. But then you’d suddenly shut down, brushing him off with that casual dismissal.

He hadn’t been prepared for that.

His fingers grip the edge of his notebook, frowning as he recalls the way you’d pulled away so quickly, the way you’d told Rei the conversation had ended when it hadn’t. 

Did he say something wrong? Did he come off the wrong way? The thought that maybe he’d hurt you lingers in the back of his mind. He couldn’t figure out why it bothered him, but it did.

Why did it matter so much? He wasn’t the type to dwell on things like this. But here he was, unable to shake the feeling that he might have said something that made you uncomfortable. 

A few weeks pass, and the rhythm of campus life carries on. You and Taesan don’t cross paths much. The occasional glance during class or passing by in the hallways, but nothing beyond that. 

You focus on your studies, drown yourself in textbooks, and try not to overthink things. Rei, Liz, and Mayu keep you distracted, as they always do, but there’s still a quiet part of you that wonders what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pulled away from Taesan that night. 

What if things had been different?

It’s late one afternoon when you run into him again. You’re walking through the library, buried in your phone, trying to find a quiet corner to study, when you bump into him. The collision is soft but unexpected, and you almost drop your phone.

“Sorry,” you mutter, not looking up. Only when the figure you bumped into doesn’t reply do you look up. It’s Han Taesan, but this time his eyes are wide with surprise, as though he hadn’t expected to see you at all.

You freeze for a second, unsure of how to react. Should you just walk away? Pretend like nothing happened between you two?

To your surprise, Taesan speaks first, his voice quieter than usual, as if he’s uncertain of what to say. “It’s fine,” he says, glancing down at your phone before meeting your eyes again. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

You swallow, feeling the tension in the air. “Yeah,” you say nervously. “I was just looking for a place to study.”

He nods, glancing around briefly. The silence stretches between you two, and for a moment, it feels like both of you are unsure of where to go next.

You want to ask him how he’s been, or maybe apologize for being so cold that night, but the words seem stuck in your throat. What if he doesn’t want to talk to you at all?

But before you can say anything, Taesan surprises you by taking a small step closer, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, the words coming out softer than you expected.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of avoiding. It feels like the air around you has gotten thicker, heavier. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you reply, your voice quieter now. “I just didn’t think you wanted to talk after that night.”

Taesan’s brow furrows slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably, looking as though he’s trying to figure out how to respond. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just didn’t know how to react when you walked away with Rei so suddenly.”

“I was just confused,” he continues, looking at you more directly now. “I thought maybe I had done something wrong.”

You hadn’t meant for it to come across that way.  You let out a shaky breath, then manage a small, honest smile. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I just, I guess I assumed you weren’t interested, so I backed off.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then Taesan looks at you, his expression unreadable but not distant. The corners of his mouth tug up just slightly. "I guess we're both bad at this, huh?"

"Bad at what?"

"Bad at whatever this is," Taesan says with a small shrug, his eyes flicking over you. "Talking, not sure what to call it."

Taesan shifts slightly, taking a step closer, but not enough to invade your personal space. "I don't know what I was expecting after the party," he continues. "Maybe I thought it would just be normal. But then you pulled away, and I didn't know what to think."

You nod, "I didn’t know what to think either. You were being nice, but I thought maybe you were just being kind, you know? I didn’t want to read too much into it."

You play with the string of your hoodie, slightly tugging at it. All the disappointment and feelings you’ve been trying to avoid come rushing back again now that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Were you just being kind when you helped me with my books? Would you have done the same if it were anyone else who slipped that day?”

The question hangs in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken. Taesan’s eyes flick over to you, there’s a slight tightness in his jaw, like he's trying to process something that doesn’t come easily to him. 

"I didn’t think about it at the time but now, I don’t know. He exhales sharply, looking away. "Maybe I just wanted to."

You swallow, frustration tightening your chest. This wasn’t how you imagined this conversation would go. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was more to it, more to him. 

But now? Now you don’t know how much more of this confusion you can take. You take a step closer, the two of you being only a few inches away from each other.

"Then why?" Your voice wavers slightly. "Why did you help me at all? Why act like you care?"

“Why help me when you’ve been nothing but cold to me before? When I spilled my drink on you or when we bumped into each other on the stairs on the first day of school?”

As the words slip out, you feel the rush of heat flood your face, a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something else, something that makes your stomach churn. 

Taesan doesn’t move, but his gaze shifts downward, like he’s avoiding your eyes. His lips part, like he’s going to say something, but he stops himself.

"I—" He starts, but he doesn’t know what to say, his heartbeat thumping in his throat. The lack of explanation hangs in the air, and you can see it now, he doesn’t know why he’s been acting this way. 

Hell, you don’t know why you’ve been acting this way.  You can feel the frustration bubbling inside you now, mixing with that strange, painful feeling that you don’t know how to name.

The way he’s been helping you, acting like he cares, like there’s something more to it, but then he tells you he doesn’t like seeing people uncomfortable? It feels cruel.

“If you don’t know,” you say, your voice more stern than before, “then stop helping me. Stop looking out for me. It’s unfair.”

The air feels thicker now. There’s a brief silence that makes your throat feel tight. Taesan looks at you. His lips twitch like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he looks at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual, and for a split second, you wonder if he even understands what you’re really saying, if he feels the same frustration, the same confusion that you do. 

But just as quickly as that thought enters your mind, it fades away, swallowed by the silence. The words don’t come from him. And that’s enough of an answer, isn’t it?

You nod slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and sadness settle in your chest. “Okay. Fine,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. 

You take a step back, not wanting to stay any longer. You didn’t expect an answer from him anyway, but the lack of one hurts more than you thought it would. 

Taesan stands frozen in place, watching as you turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t know what just happened. Why couldn’t he explain himself? Why did everything seem to come out so wrong?  

He’s never been good with words, but this was different. It’s not just that he couldn’t say his thoughts. It's like something inside him was stopping him from saying what he really wanted to say. 

Then, he catches a glimpse of your hand moving to your face, wiping at your eyes. His breath hitches in his throat. Are you crying?

His mind races, but his body stays rooted to the spot. He watches, almost helplessly, as you walk further away, your back to him now. 

He feels like he got punched in the gut, realizing that he might have hurt you, even though he never meant to. He never thought you’d react like this. Did he really make you cry?

The thought of you being upset, especially because of him, gnaws at him. He feels that familiar sense of discomfort that always seems to follow when it comes to emotions, but this time, it’s more urgent, more real. 

What’s wrong with me? Taesan thinks, his chest tightening. He wonders why he couldn’t simply tell you what was on his mind, why he couldn’t explain himself the way he should have.

For a long moment, Taesan stays where he is, standing motionless. All he can focus on is the sight of you walking away. His heart clenches with a mixture of regret and something else.

He should follow you. He should stop you, say something, apologize, explain everything. His fingers twitch at his side, an impulse to reach out, to stop you. But his feet stay rooted, and before he knows it, you’re already gone.

A few days after your encounter with Taesan, you sit at a corner table in a cozy café, holding a half-finished cup of coffee while your friends, Mayu, Liz, and Rei, sit across from you, chatting amongst themselves.

The air inside the café is warm and inviting, but your mind feels anything but.

Rei is the first to speak, breaking the silence that has settled over the table. "So, are you going to tell us what happened?" she asks, her tone teasing but laced with concern.

“I thought he liked me." Your voice fades, the words hanging in the air. Your thoughts are still jumbled, and every time you try to make sense of them, it only gets worse.

Rei leans in, her usual playful attitude slipping for a moment. “What happened? You guys have been talking a lot lately. I thought everything was fine?”

“Yeah, well, I thought so too,” you say, bitterness creeping into your voice. “But then he just couldn’t explain himself. He couldn’t even reply to me.”

Mayu stirs her drink absentmindedly, while Liz presses her lips together before speaking. “Do you think he realized he made you feel that way? Maybe he didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. He just shut down. It felt like he didn’t care at all. And now, I don’t know what to think. Maybe I read too much into everything.”

Rei exhales, shaking her head slightly. “You’re really overthinking this. Maybe Taesan’s just as confused as you are. He’s not exactly the most straightforward guy.”

“But that’s just it,” you say, your voice rising slightly. "If he cared, why did he stay silent? Why let me walk away without even trying?"

The table grows quiet, and even Rei, who usually finds humor in everything, sits back in her chair, her expression serious.

Mayu finally speaks up. “Maybe he’s not used to being vulnerable. Maybe he doesn’t know how to handle it either.”

Liz nods. “Yeah, I’ve noticed he can be closed off. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix things.”

You frown, not sure whether to believe it. “I don’t know. I can’t keep trying to figure him out when it feels like he’s not even trying to figure me out.”

Mayu’s eyes soften as she reaches over to place a hand on yours. “Hey, we’re not saying you’re wrong. You have every right to feel hurt. But sometimes, people don’t know how to handle their own emotions. It doesn’t mean they don’t care, it just means they’re lost too.”

Rei raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying we should give him the benefit of the doubt? You think he wants to make things right?”

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice quiet. “But it’s not like he’s trying to reach out to me. I don’t want to sit here like an idiot waiting for him to approach me.”

A long pause follows as everyone absorbs what you’ve said. Liz shifts in her seat, her fingers tapping gently on her cup. “You don’t have to wait for him. If you want to talk to him, go ahead. But don’t make it all about him making things right. You deserve someone who’s willing to put in the effort too.”

Rei nods vigorously. “Yeah. And if he’s too dumb to realize what he’s got, then we’ll find you someone better.”

“Yeah,” Mayu chimes in, “We all know Rei has got the best connections, right, Rei?”

“Of course! Ask me anytime!” The four of you burst out into laughter, easing your mind a little of all the thoughts about Taesan. 

You're running late, so so late, for a study session. 

As you walk through the crowded campus, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to check the message. It's from Mayu, reminding you of the study group you’ve agreed to attend. 

where r u? 

i’m omw you quickly text back before hastily stuffing your phone back into your pocket. 

You weave through the crowd of students, rushing toward the building where the study group is supposed to meet. 

As you enter the classroom, you're hit with the familiar sight: your friends have already gathered around, scattered across a table, but your eyes immediately find him. Taesan.

He’s sitting at the far end of the table, his usual neutral expression on his face as he flips through a notebook, completely absorbed in his work. You hesitate for just a moment, unsure of how to approach the situation, but quickly shake off the nerves. It’s not like you haven’t run into him before.

You hadn’t exactly expected to see him in the study group. Sure, he was in some of your classes, but you figured he’d be the type to stay away from these group study sessions.

Mayu spots you as soon as you walk in and gives you a little wave. You slide into the seat next to her, trying your best to act natural, though you can’t help but feel his presence like a weight at the other end of the table.

"You didn’t tell me Taesan was going to be here," she whispers with a raised eyebrow, her voice barely audible.

You sigh, already feeling the weight of the situation. “Yeah, well, neither did I. I had no idea he’d be here either.” You glance over at Taesan, who’s quietly working through a set of notes, the soft rustling of paper the only sound between the two of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Taesan’s gaze again. This time, he’s not looking away so quickly. His eyes linger, just for a moment longer.

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard when you can practically feel the tension from across the table. Mayu, sensing the shift in the air, glances over at him too and lets out a small, almost dismissive sigh. “You know, if he really wanted to talk, he’d say something. You’re not the one who needs to make the first move."

You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, he’s the one who-"

But before you can finish, you catch sight of Taesan making a quick adjustment in his seat. His fingers briefly brush the edge of his notebook, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something.

You freeze, eyes on him, but then nothing happens. He simply closes his mouth, clears his throat quietly, and goes back to flipping through his notes, looking like he’s just as uncomfortable as you feel.

Mayu shoots you a small look. "See? It’s fine. Just focus on the work."

The study group eventually wraps up, and everyone begins to gather their things. You try to keep to yourself, making a quick exit. Immediately as you walk out the door, you’re surprised by Taesan pulling you away from the rest.

“What are you doing? I’m walking back with Mayu.” You hiss at him, annoyed at how he had suddenly pulled you away like this. 

Taesan doesn’t let go of your arm immediately, his grip surprisingly firm but not tight enough to hurt. He looks down at you and back toward the study room, where Mayu and the others are still packing up.

"I know, but I need to talk to you." 

You tug your arm out of his grasp, adjusting the bag that had slid off of your shoulder. 

He hesitates, looking conflicted for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.” He trails off, clearly searching for the right words. "I didn’t know how else to get you alone, and we need to talk."

"You made it pretty clear that I wasn’t worth talking to before. So why should I now?" You retort.

His face stiffens at your words, the usual impassive look falling over his features again. For a split second, he almost seems like he wants to say something, but then he presses his lips together tightly, as though debating with himself.

“I need you to know that I’m not avoiding you, or trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m just bad at this. At all of this." His voice grows quieter with each word, afraid someone else is going to hear.

You’re caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words, even if it’s not quite enough to dissolve the anger and disappointment that had been simmering since you last spoke.

"Why now?" you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Why are you talking to me now, after all this time? Just because we’re in a study group together?”

"I don’t know," he admits, the edge of frustration creeping back into his voice. "I just... I didn’t want things to stay the way they were. And I didn’t want to keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Not with you. Not after everything that happened."

Just as the tension between you and Taesan hangs in the air, Mayu's voice cuts through the moment.

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” she asks, her figure appearing in the corner of your vision as she stands just a few feet away, arms crossed as she watches the two of you closely.

Taesan immediately steps back, the space between you widening. You glance at Mayu, grateful for the interruption, even if it’s not quite the escape you were hoping for.

"Yeah, just about," you reply quickly, giving Mayu a small nod. You try to keep your voice steady, though you can’t help it when your voice trembles slightly.

Mayu raises an eyebrow at the two of you, clearly noticing the quiet tension, but she doesn’t say anything further. Instead, she gives you a brief look and then turns, making her way to the door. 

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” she says with a soft smile. 

You take a deep breath, glancing back at Taesan.  “You should go.” you say, the words coming out quieter than you intended. 

Just as you start to turn away, Taesan’s voice stops you.

"Wait," he says, his tone firm, and it makes you freeze mid-step. You glance over your shoulder at him, your heart racing a little as his presence feels suddenly even more intense.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze avoiding yours for a second before it finally meets yours. 

“I should have said something that day,” he continues, his voice softer than before. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You feel a pang in your chest. His words don’t quite match his usual demeanor, and it throws you off. You’re not sure what to do with this sudden shift in his approach.

He takes a small step closer. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything. I just-” He hesitates, unsure, before looking away. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.  And I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.”

“You’re not the problem here,” he says, almost too quickly, as if trying to convince both you and himself. “I’m not good with people. And I don’t know how to say the right things when I want to. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.”

The version of Taesan you know, the one who could be rude one moment and kind the next, feels so different now. And for some reason, hearing him say it aloud makes you question everything you thought you knew about him.

“Why didn’t you say this sooner?” you ask, your voice shaking just slightly. “Then why did you act like you didn’t care? Why push me away if you knew all along?””

Taesan runs a hand through his hair, he lets out a deep sigh. "I was scared. This is the first time I’ve felt like this,” he admits, looking at you with frustration “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to fix it, but I’m trying.”

You stare at him, trying to process everything he’s saying. 

“Look,” you say, the frustration finally bubbling over. "I’m not doing this right now. You made it clear that you couldn’t figure out how to talk to me before, and now you want to fix it all at once?" You shake your head, unable to make sense of it.

Taesan opens his mouth as if to say something, but you don’t wait for him to speak. Turning on your heel, you walk back toward the door where Mayu is waiting, the tension between you and Taesan hanging in the air like an unanswered question.

As you pass the threshold, you can feel Taesan’s eyes on you, but you don’t turn back. You’re not sure what this is, or if it’s even something that can be fixed. For now, all you want is to be somewhere else, away from this conversation, away from all of it.

Mayu is standing by the door, arms crossed and brow raised, but she doesn’t ask. She doesn’t need to. You nod at her, offering a small, strained smile.

“I’m ready,” you say quietly, and together, you head for the stairs. You’re not sure if you believe him, or if you even want to. But for now, you just need distance.

[didishawn]

Can you write about Ruben having a daughter with his girlfriend, but when kid is 2 they separate. But their little girl is totally daddy’s girl so they have to be real close with each other (like going to his games, going on vacation together). Recently the rumors started coming that Ruben is in a new relationship and it put a lot of pressure on their relationship, little one not really getting what’s going on.

Always yours (Rúben Días x reader)

warnings: none, a bit angsty

Masterlist

Masterlist 2

You damm Ruben's genes for going so hard and making his daughter an exact replica of him.

Each time you look into your precious baby girl's eyes, you see your ex boyfriend in them.

Ruben and you broke up back when Isadora was just two years old. It wasn't a messy break up really, just a series of miscommunication and busy schedules that made it inevitable.

Meaning: there was still love (at least from your side) and it's torturous knowing you can't be together.

Another fact that doesn't help, is that Isadora from the moment she was born, has always been a daddy's girl.

Meaning, the three of you still act as a family while technically not being a complete one.

Games both at home and away are basically a must-you are not prepared for the tantrums Isadora will do once she can't follow daddy all around the world because of school (knowing Ruben, he might as well suggest home school so he can always bring his little girl wherever he goes). Vacations are another thing you can't escape, having to either sleep in twin beds in a same room with Ruben, or a suite in which you either lock yourself in the room or plainly disappear so father and daughter can have some alone time.

You are not sure what Ruben thinks -from the moment you two broke it off, communication has been strictly only about your daughter (a limit you established, as while you could never hate him, you can't be his friend). You wonder if he too, finds the situation way too uncomfortable, or if he doesn't really care as what you two had, is in the past.

But you are on your limit, that's why when Ruben proposes a weekend away to switch things up after City's latest bad run, you refuse.

You make up some work related excuse, but tell him to take Isadora as some time together will do them some good.

You miss Ruben's disappointed look, way too into your own mind to realise what is really going on.

You can't even look him in the eye when you take a sleeping Isadora from his arms to put her into bed, and you are just about to slam the door in his face as he silently begs you with his eyes to let him explain himself.

You had been so happy, just a couple hours ago seeing him post stories with your little girls eating croissants in Paris, and enjoying the videos of her excitedly going up the Eiffel Tower.

It was a mistake, to answer your friend's call, her asking you why you hadn't told her about Isadora's possible step-mother, and the call ended with your own mother calling you to know whether it was true.

Completely lost, you entered one of those wag's gossip pages to be met up with an horrendous headline:

MAN CITY STAR, RUBEN DIAS, CAUGHT IN PARIS ALONGSIDE HIS DAUGHTER AND NEW FLAME, NEW FAMILY MEMBER ALERT?!

You didn't even know what to say nor think. Ruben had never mentioned seeing anyone, not given signs of it. Much less, has he said anything about introducing anyone to Isadora.

You didn't even have to call him or text him, before Ruben told you they were flying back to Manchester that very same evening.

You only responded with a thumbs up and went on to stalk this "new flame" of his.

A model, of course. Definitely his type, she had a nice smile too.

You can already imagine future vacations: them two in a room and you and Isa sharing in the one next to them. Having to explain to her that Ruben and whatever her name is need alone time and having to handle a fuzzy toddler wanting to be with her dad.

Great, just great.

There goes your heart, any thought you might have had in your child free, drunken nights about you and Ruben ever getting back together now that you are more mature, impossible now.

Also, there goes your trust in your baby daddy, because what the fuck is that about bringing strangers around your daughter without telling you???

Fuck him and his puppy eyes as he looks at you while you quietly come out from Isa's room, crossed arms and glaring his way, waiting for him to explain.

"I swear to God, there is nothing between me and her" he finally says, and you can only grunt.

"I don't give a fuck if you are not with her Ruben. I care about you sneakily bringing some girl around our daughter without telling me in advance. Worse so, having to find out from someone other than you"

"It's not like it was on purpose, I swear! It was pure coincidence y/n, you have to believe me"

He looks sincere, but there is still something fishy going on in your opinion.

"Right, you on pure coincidence crossed paths with some of your situationships on Paris and-"

"She is no one, y/n-"

"Let me finish, because not only did you do that. You were sending me pictures of Isa while carefully making sure I could see her, you were hiding her from me Ruben." you sigh again, already dreading how this is going down. "Look, Ruben, I don't care if you are seeing other girls, I am glad that this is a sign we have both moved on."

You lie, and hope he can tell so. "I am not seeing anyone, I promise."

"...We both know how you are, Ruben, you can't seriously expect me to believe that."

When you met Ruben, he wasn't someone to settle down, it was a miracle he once did with you, but you know it's not in his nature.

"Look, I just ask of you to not go around introducing just about anyone to Isa, I don't want her to ask questions. This whole thing is already hard on her"

You don't remember how the rest of the conversation with Ruben went down, just him giving out excuses that you don't believe.

Of course he is seeing other girls, you are sure of it.

You haven't seen much of him since, asking your best friend to please help you handle pick ups with him with another work related excuse.

Communication is now the bare minimum, every time he tries to speak with you about the whole mess, you just straight on ghost him.

Another child free night, means a nice bottle of wine to drown your sorrows and some romantic com playing in the background to try and convince yourself love might actually exist.

It's almost midnight when someone loudly knocks on your door. You quietly take a sneaky look outside, and open the door confusedly when you see him.

"Where is Isadora? Is she alright?" you worriedly ask and he nods his head.

"Yes, yes, all is alright, she is with my brother, don't worry about it."

There is silence for a moment as you stare at him as he fidgets in his place.

"Then, what are you doing here?" you ask, arms crossed and back to your cold persona now that you now all is ok.

"...You were ignoring me, and I need to speak with you"

You sigh, tiredly. "I was not ignoring you Ruben, it's just that there is no reason for is to keep discussing this topic"

You know that's a lie, everyone knows something bad is going on, it's even affecting Isa, as while she might already be used to mom and dad not living together, she has only really known a life of family dinners, weekly meet ups and movie nights. All gone now.

"That's bullshit and you know it"

He stares at you for a moment, in his eyes the same look he had when you two found out you were pregnant: scared, terrified about what the future holds for you.

You let him in, even offer him a glass of wine which he ignores. You can't really remember the last time it was only him and you in a room.

"...I would never take anyone other than you or Isa to Paris, I wish you accepted that"

Back when you had just started Ruben, he had asked you what was your dream trip, and it might be cliché, but to you it had always been Paris: the city of love.

A week later you had been enjoying a fresh croissant as you walked hand in hand with him near the Louvre.

The last trip you ever made as a couple, was just after finding out Isa's gender, you two in a boat ride along the Sena as you wondered what the future help in hand for your little family.

And it hit you hard, really, rhat he could just go and be with another girl in the city, in the meantime, the mere thought of the city had your heart acting for him.

"But it seems you did, Ruben"

"Y/n, please. You have to believe me. That girl and I just have some friends in common and I couldn't just tell her to get away from me, doesn't matter how much I wish I could"

"That still doesn't explain why would you hide her from me'

"I didn't hide her! She was literally there for about,five minutes, and that was enough for those stupid wag pages to make up stupid stories!"

"...Ok"

"...Ok? Just like that?"

"You prefer me not believing You?'

"Just...not used to you not fighting me"

"We can fight if you want to"

"I would prefer not to, afterall, it was a stupid fight that hot us here"

It's quiet for a second, the two of you watching the movie playing in the background but not truly paying any attention to it.

"Are you seeing someone?"

The question has you choking on your wine and stare at him, wide eyed.

"I mean...the other day you said that thing about moving on and..."

"Ruben, you caught me alone at home drinking a Friday night with the lames rom com playing on the background. You really think I am hiding someone from you?"

"...Good point, I guess" he clears his throat, then waits a second. "You might not believe me, but I am really not seeing anyone"

"Is the Ruben Días having trouble getting laid?"

"The only girl I want to get laid with- said no to a trip to Paris I had planned to ask her whether she would ever take me back"

"...That's not funny, Ruben"

"Only jokes are supposed to be funny, darling, and this is not a joke"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your first day at work brings both excitement and anxiety. It's been a long time since you felt possibility ahead of you. You don't know that you ever really have. That's probably why you did what you did. No excuses. You made bad choices and didn't care who you hurt. 

You grab your new bag, in your brown blazer, a white satin blouse, and a black skirt, and head off. You feel like an imposter already. You get on the bus, standing as you avoid the musty seats, and figure you'll be sitting a bit too long that day. 

The office is building is just as it was before. Smaller than other business towers. The grey brick gives it an antique feel. Quaint, almost. You don't think you'll feel that way for long. 

As you enter, you recall the withering look from those green eyes. The timbre of judgment in his voice. The glint of mocking. You should be used to it by now, shouldn't you? 

You approach the office door and hesitate. What do you do? He gave you a time. You have no key. The door does not give off an essence of welcome. 

You knock and shift in your heels. You got the lowest ones you could find and they're still awful. You hear movement within. Mr. Laufeyson opens the door as you straighten your posture. 

"Good morning, sir," you greet. 

"You will fetch my coffee," he skips over any semblance of propriety. Even you know how to say hello. 

"Oh, yes sir," you reply, put off by his suddenness. 

"There is a cafe off the lobby. You must've passed it on your way in. Cortado." He demands. 

You take a breath. He could say please or thank you. You're used to a lack of manners but when you feel demeaned, you get a bit itchy. 

"Yes, sir, uh, I--" 

"You will be reimbursed. File a report," he turns away, "I would give a company card but... let's keep it all on file." 

He gets to his office door and you watch him in a silent simmer. You go to the empty desk and set down your bag. You dig out your wallet before tucking the rest underneath. 

You find your way down to the cafe, nestled between a law office and marketing consultancy space. You join the line and peer up at the menu. What did he say? C... something. Cortado, that's it right there. 

You step up for your turn. You pay for the drink and wait at the end of the counter. With your first task accomplished, you set off back to work. 

You enter the office. It's deathly silent. You can't help but look over your shoulder. Your hand balls to a fist instinctively. 

Before you can approach his door, it opens. 

"Thought I heard you," he struts out. "You may shut the door. And sit." 

You nod and offer him the cup. He points to the barren desk. You set it down and take your seat. He disappears. You frown. Was it some test? 

He emerges again, this time pushing a green leather chair. It looks much comfier than your own. He rolls it next to you and sits. You fidget and tug at the cuffs of the blazer. 

"Well, you can follow orders," he slithers. "Your attire is less... casual. The coffee is hot," he reaches for the cup and sips. "You will turn on the computer." 

You look under the desk for the tower. He scoffs and taps the laptop beside the monitor. You don't know how you missed that. 

"You will need to work outside the office at times. Now, I've a tracker installed and security, so there's no use in selling it," he warns. 

You seal your lips and nod. You won't show your irritation. Let him treat you like a criminal, at least he's paying you. 

You open the laptop and press the power button. It's very sleek and shiny. Brand new. 

"And the monitor," he directs and sips again. It's somewhat agitating to hear. 

You push the button along the bottom of the screen. He points to a post-it beside the touch pad. "Credentials." 

You type them in and hit enter. At least he's helping. Most of the courses you took were online and had zero support. You can figure things out on your own but you don't think he trusts you to do that. 

"I've had an employee ID set up. That is here," he points lower down on the post-it. "There is a folder here for you to review standard practices and expectations." 

He gestures to the smaller screen as you quietly observe. He sighs. 

"You have any questions?" 

"No, sir," you say. 

"And you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," you answer. I can read, tickles your tongue but you refuse to unleash it. 

"Wonderful, so let me take you through a few of our basic programs just so that you are set. There would be the email, then the task tracker, and finally, the most important, my calendar," he explains. 

"Yes, sir," you repeat. 

He wheels closer, his hand clasping onto the back of your chair. He keeps his cup in his other hand, extend one finger to motion to the screen. He helps you get into the inbox. 

"I recommend you review previous responses as well the templates provided in the Procedures folder." He explains. 

You bend and reach below the desk. You sift in your bag as he tuts, "whatever are you doing?" 

You sit back up with your notebook and a bic pen. You show him, "taking notes." 

He hums, "well, that is a good idea, isn't it?" 

He looks back to the screen as you flip the cover around the spirals. He's expecting you to fail, just like Dina, just like everyone else. You won't if you can help it. 

💼

You send another message to Mr. Laufeyson. For your first day, he insists on reviewing your emails. You let him know you have some waiting and go back to reviewing the folder of policy. It's not too difficult, only dry. You like that. 

How long did you live on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. It still could but there's no one actively working against you. Only your own bad habits. You just need to resist. You need to keep moving forward. 

'Send it'. His message is simple. No praise, no tips. Just approval. That's good enough for you. 

When lunch comes, you eat at your desk. You packed a plain peanut butter sandwich, a bottle of sparkling water, and small container of trail mix. Enough to tide you over. What you can spare. 

As you chew the crust, the door opens. Laufeyson sniffs and crosses his arms as he faces you. You swallow and wrap up the last bite. 

"Peanuts?" He says. 

"Oh, are you allergic?" You ask. 

"I prefer almond," he snips. "You're eating?" 

"Sir, you said twelve was my lunch." 

He squints then untangles his wrist to look at his watch, "so I did." 

You let out the heavy breath in your chest. You fold up the parchment around the sandwich and put it in your bag. Your stomach's doing those somersaults again. 

"You may finish," he says. 

"That's fine, sir, I was done," you assure him and grab a tissue to wipe your hands and mouth. You crumple it and put it in the bin. He looms close. 

"Well, if you aren't busy, another coffee would be in order." 

You look at him. You still have ten minutes. This isn't the yard, there's no guard counting down the minutes. You get up. 

"Yes, sir," you answer. 

"Oh, don't skip to the door," he says drolly. 

You tilt your head. His attitude drips from his posture as he checks his nails. You have to keep from scowling. You've been polite but he can't seem to show an ounce of decency. Well, he doesn't need to, he is your boss. 

"Just the coffee?" You ask. 

"Yes, dear, simple as," he assures flatly, as if you can't understand a coffee order. 

You bend down and grab your wallet. You put your hand on the desk to push yourself up and his shadow shifts. You glance over and his green eyes flick away from your skirt. You stand and tug it straight, worried it might have hitched up. 

"Excuse me," you sidle past him. 

"Do hurry," he bids. 

You're thankful to be away. You feel less suffocated by the guards with their night sticks, following you around as if you might make a run for the fence.  

It's busier at the cafe. You get to the counter and order. It's the same as before but even more crowded. Sweat speckles over your scalp as the walls seem to close in. 

You gulp for air as you get back to the lobby. You go up to the second floor and nearly burst through the office door. Laufeyson is by your desk, waiting. 

"Something the matter?" He muses. "I trust you didn't abscond with a coffee unpaid for?" 

You steady yourself and cross to him, offering the cup, "no, sir, it was only busy and I didn't want to be late." 

"Oh?" He arches a brow. "You seem rather worked up over it." 

"I'm not," you go around the desk and sit. 

"Ah yes, a different sort of cage now," he remarks, "no bars, just a wool blazer and a desk." 

You look at him, "I... no, it's not bad." 

"I suppose the comparison makes it tolerable," he snickers. 

"I guess," you agree and sign back into the laptop. 

"I've a client coming shortly. Please be sure to show them in with a smile." 

"I will, sir," you open the inbox. 

"You will?" 

"Yes," you repeat. 

"Let me see." 

"What?" You jerk back and pivot the chair toward him. 

"Smile for me." 

You stare at him then furrow your brow. He's taunting you. You know it. You can't let him get to you. 

You smile, or attempt to. 

"I know you might be out of practice but do try a little harder." He goads. 

You wipe your face and look down. You inhale. You smile again, this time resisting the tension tugging in your cheeks. He tilts his head. 

"Mm, you look almost like a lady," he sneers over the brim of his cup. 

You're starting to suspect he didn't hire you for good intentions. To be a helping hand. No, he's testing you. Trying to see how long it takes for you to break. Well, you won't. 

"Thank you, sir," you face the computer again. 

He sighs and struts away. The smile falls off your face and you open the newest email. You pluck away at it, falling back into a tempo between reading and typing. 

A knock comes at the door and you nearly slide out of the chair as you push it back. You get up and tap around on your heels. You brace yourself and remember. Smile. 

You turn the handle and pull the door open. "Hello, how are you today?" 

You sound stupid, like that churlish woman at the clothes shop. The man double takes and his lips slant, "I... the door says..." 

"Mr. Laufeyson is in his office," you explain.

The man nods and thoughtfully taps his chin, "ah, makes sense. He's hired a secretary." 

"Sir," you step back to let him in. 

"Aren't you polite?" He strolls in. "You might tell him Pine is here." 

"Yes, I will." 

You skirt around him and go to Laufeyson's door. You tap lightly. "Sir, your-- Mr. Pine is here." 

You wait at the door, trying to hear through it. It swings open and you teeter back. Pine steps forward, his hand outstretched. 

"Laufeyson," he shakes the others' hand. "Well, have you sorted it?" 

"You always bring me a challenge," Laufeyson waves him through then looks at you, "Pine, you take tea?" 

"As always." The man passes between you into the back office. 

"English breakfast," he points at you. "Quickly." 

[stevesgother]

American Teenager - R.B

Pairing - Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

WC - 3.9k

Part 1 of the I Wish I Knew You series

General Warnings - internalized homophobia, regular homophobia, religious and evangelical themes/descriptions, cursing, drug/alcohol use, depictions of religious trauma, eventual smut

AN - before we even start let me disclaim: this series will explore heavy topics. a lot of it is self-indulgent, as a queer woman who grew up in the church. If you find any of the themes listed above triggering or upsetting in any way, DO NOT PROCEED. i’m so excited for you guys to read this one. With love ~ emma <3

On your fifteenth birthday, your father gave you a purity ring.

Today, the sun cascading through the delicate stained-glass windows reflects perfectly off the dainty diamond in its setting; your hands clasped in prayer.

‘Our Father, as we gather in Your presence, we thank You for the blessings of this day,’

Your father’s unwavering voice echoes the service’s concluding prayer over the congregation as you sit thigh to thigh with your mother, heads bowed. A singular pleated french braid fell neatly down your back, styled just how your mother liked it. The sanctuary smells of stale communion crackers and mildew. You silently scold yourself for wishing it would be time to leave already.

‘In Your holy name we pray,’

Amen.

The old wooden pews creak as the mass starts to funnel out of the church; a cacophony of chatter and laughter erupts throughout the room as different families begin to socialize. Sues and Annes, Toms and Franks– asking each other for prayer. ‘My husband got laid off.’ they’ll say, or ‘We’re having trouble conceiving.’

Sometimes when you watch them all flock together like this, you wonder if you’re being given a prophetic glimpse of your future.

“And Y/N, how are you and your boyfriend?”

You’re snapped out of your daze, “Sorry?”

“‘Ben’ is it? How are you and Ben doing?”

“Oh we’re–” you shake your head distractedly, hair swishing along the back of your perfectly ironed dress, “We’re good, thank you,”

“She and Ben are actually going to Princeton next year,” your mother adds triumphantly, “just received the acceptance letters last week!”

“Oh!” Your mother’s friend Dorothy squeals, “Isn’t that delightful?!”

“We’re very proud of her.” your father compliments as he wraps a tight arm around your shoulder, “She’s even going for ministry.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful,” Dorothy laments, “you know, I went to a bible college–” she looks at you in a stern, motherly way that makes sweat prickle at your brow, a bony finger dancing in your direction, “there is truly nothing better than committing your life to our Lord.”

This is the conversation you decide to ruminate on as you sit in front of your vanity mirror, brushing your braid out in a daze. You must’ve been sitting there, running that wide tooth comb through your hair, for at least ten minutes now– your delicate strands starting to break and frizz.

The worn pages of your leather-bound journal stick to one another as you fold it open, ready to spill your guts amongst the pages,

April 8th, 1986

Tomorrow is Monday. A new week, with new responsibilities. I’m scared to disappoint daddy, but I know he just wants the best for me. Ben came over for dinner tonight, momma really loves him, I think. I think he’s sweet. He’s been bringing me flowers more often. They’re always wrapped in brown paper instead of that ugly plastic you get at the grocery store. He’d make a good husband one day, don’t you think? Write again soon.

You always sign your name in your frilly cursive at the end of each passage as if anyone else would be writing in your diary except for you. You think it feels more formal that way. More official.

...

Eight o’clock is decidedly too early for band class. Your flute keeps drooping in your hands, your notes are flat, and your breath support is terrible. Maybe your lingering drowsiness is just the excuse you’re using to deflect from the fact that what’s really distracting you is a girl across the room that you’ve never seen before, standing awkwardly and tuning her trumpet.

She’s sporting chipped, black nail polish and bright red converse covered in inky doodles. Her hair is a sandy blonde color and looks just a little chemically damaged like maybe she’d bleached it recently. It’s miles shorter than yours, though– resting just above her shoulders.

The girl doesn’t pay you any mind, nor anyone else for that matter. Mrs. Foster didn’t even introduce her to the class, and there certainly weren’t any students lining up to meet her. She stood out like a sore thumb and her style reminded you a bit of that one super senior who was still in Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class. It makes you wonder where she came from, and why on Earth she would ever come here. Two months before graduation, no less.

She had her instrument packed and was standing by the door before the bell even rang. You hoped distantly that she had someone to sit with at lunch. Claire and Ben would be totally pissed if you ditched them to keep her company otherwise.

When you got to the cafeteria, the two of them were already seated, waiting for you and looking as if they were squabbling about something stupid again. Nothing new.

“Oh, don’t have a cow, Claire,” you hear your boyfriend say as you sit beside him. He takes a generous bite of a ham and cheese sandwich and speaks with his mouth full, “your life is hardly over.” It always makes your stomach churn when he does that. He could be so boyish and gross sometimes.

“A ‘C’ is totally gonna bring down my GPA!” Claire cries in response.

“Didn’t you like, already get accepted into your top school?” You ask carefully, as not to rock the boat. Claire was like that: easily agitated. Every conversation with her felt like walking a tightrope.

Claire scoffs, “You know, some of us actually have to work for our futures?”

Ben cuts in, somehow foreseeing the words about to spew out of her mouth, “Claire, don’t–”

“--Not all of our daddies can just buy our way into ministry school. You don’t even have to know anything to get into those programs, for Christ’s sake.” She spits, a scowl painting her face.

She’s not usually so cruel. As angry as you want to be, pesky tears prick the corners of your eyes. Why must you cry for every emotion?

“That’s not fair,” you say, trying your hardest to sound stoic but the wobble in your voice betrays you. If there’s one thing Claire hates, it’s weakness. She’s like a damned army general sometimes– every tear that rolls down your cheek just fuels her anger.

She wasn’t always this way. There was a time, before Ben and before high school, where the two of you were inseparable. Hanging upside down from your knees on the monkey bars and sharing cherry popsicles in a blistering summer heat. Claire was like the sister you never had– and now? Now a sickly, dreadful feeling washed over you every time you anticipated seeing her.

“You’re right,” Claire snaps, “It’s not.”

“You know how hard I worked to get into Princeton.” You defend.

“Please, spare me. It’s all any of us have been hearing about all year.”

“Claire–” Ben spits through clenched teeth.

Without another word to either of them, you collect your things and make a beeline for the girl's bathroom. Your boyfriend picks his jaw up off the floor in time to catch you by the forearm as you’re making a run for it.

“Hey, no, wait–”

“Leave me alone, Ben,” you say as you try and wriggle your arm from his grip, tears still breaching your lash line.

“She’s just–” he searches, “she’s just stressed out.”

“And you would know right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll talk to you later, Ben,”

As you’re walking away, you catch bits and pieces of a hushed conversation between your friends as your boyfriend sits back down.

‘You know I’m right.’

‘Claire, enough. You know how her dad is.’

You don’t bother listening to the rest of their bickering. It doesn’t matter.

The swinging door of the restroom pushes open with a creak. You approach the large mirror mounted above the sinks, getting an up-close and personal look at your skin under the harshest fluorescent lighting you’ve ever seen. You look like a corpse and your mascara is running in two distinct paths down your cheeks.

It’s as you're aggressively wiping the streaked makeup off your face that you hear a small sniffle emanating from the stall behind you. You freeze momentarily, having previously been under the assumption that you were alone.

“Hello?” You call quietly into the void.

Only another sniffle echoes back at you.

“Is… someone there?”

A meek ‘yeah’ emanates from behind the stall door.

“Who is it?”

The stall door pushes open to reveal a disheveled looking girl. The girl from band.

The entire front of her is covered in some lumpy substance, you don’t even attempt at a guess at what it is. Maybe mashed potatoes? Maybe chocolate milk? Both?

Neither of you say anything for a moment, until you break the silence with a super helpful, “Oh my gosh…are you okay?”

“Well, other than Tommy H and his gaggle of idiots dowsing me in concoction of–” she glances down at her soiled clothes, “whatever the hell this is, I’d say pretty I’m dandy.”

You grimace in disgust on her behalf– can practically feel your own clothes stinking and sticking to your skin just by looking at hers, “I’m so sorry, they’re…” you can’t seem to find any appropriate words to describe that group of degenerates.

“Assholes?” She offers.

“Sure,” you chuckle, thankful that she filled in the blank for you.

She begins yanking paper towels from the machine hanging on the wall, running them under the faucet and wiping them down the front of her t-shirt, but to no avail.

“Shit!”

“Do you… have a change of clothes?” You ask hesitantly as she’s still furiously scrubbing.

“No, and my mom’s totally gonna murder me if I come home like this! She just bought me this shirt after I’d been begging and begging for it, and then when she finally did buy it, she just told kept telling me how expensive it was and then I felt bad and now I–”

You’ve never heard someone talk as fast as her in your life. Like actually ever.

“Hey, okay–” you cut her off, “why don’t we leave a little early? I can bring you back to my house and you can wear something of mine?” You gesture to her, “And I can wash your shirt.”

“Are you sure?” She winces, fully preparing for this to be just another esoteric joke at her expense.

In all honesty, you really weren’t sure. You’d never skipped school before, let alone brought a friend home without your parents meeting their parents first and giving you the greenlight. This was uncharted territory for you, but the girl’s wide and pleading blue eyes were chipping at your resolve. You wanted to help her.

“Yeah, of course,”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she deflates in relief, you can practically see the tension leaving her shoulders in real time. “I’m Robin, by the way.” She says, sticking out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” You smile and return the gesture.

...

On the ride back to your house, you learned that Robin walked to school every day all the way from where she lived in Forest Hills trailer park. Some deducing led you to the conclusion that that's at least a thirty-five minute walk both ways. She’d worried aloud and picked at the loose threads of her jeans the entire drive to your neighborhood, clearly scared of ruining the upholstery of your car; but you really didn’t mind. You were just glad to save her the trek home.

Your family wasn’t what you would consider ‘wealthy’, but to Robin, your upper middle-class home might as well have been a millionaire’s vacation house.

“So…this is me,” you state as you lead her inside, “I can give you the tour after you change, if you want?”

She looks a little awestruck, taking in her surroundings like a kid in a candy shop, “Yeah, sure…” she replies distractedly.

You lead her upstairs to your bedroom. It’s much nicer than Robin’s– just like the rest of your house– and much girlier too. All four walls are a shade of pale pink, adorned with posters of famous pop stars like Madonna and Blondie. The patchwork quilt that covers your bed matches the rest of the room's aesthetic laced with a frilly trim.

“Here’s a shirt and a pair of sweatpants,” you hold the pile of clothes out to Robin, breaking her stupor, “I hope they fit alright,”

“No, I’m sure they’ll fit great,” a beat of silence, “Where can I uhm–change?”

“Oh, duh– right, sorry,” you say with a palm to your forehead, “there’s a bathroom down the hall and to the left.”

You’re on edge the entire time you’re showing Robin around your house. Logically, you know both of your parents are at work, but the knowledge doesn’t help to ease the anxiety you feel at the thought of your father coming home to find a stranger in your house. You know what he would say about Robin– Robin and her kitchen scissor haircut and her black nail polish and pierced ears.

“Dude, you have two living rooms?” Robin asks in disbelief.

“Well, technically one’s a living room and one’s a…sitting room,” you cringe inwardly as you try to defend yourself but only feeling like a pretentious asshole the moment the words leave your mouth.

“I’ve never even had a second floor in any house I've lived in before,” she admits.

“Do you move around a lot?”

“I guess? But it’s just my mom and I now.” She answers.

“I’ve always lived here–” you start to say but are quickly cut off by the blur of Robin’s figure rushing past you and to your entertainment center.

“Holy shit! Is this an Atari?” She picks it up excitedly– the way she handles it admittedly makes you a little tense.

You laugh despite yourself at her bewilderment, “Yeah, do you wanna play while we wait for your clothes to finish in the wash?”

“Uhm, are you kidding? Obviously!”

So that’s how you spend the next two hours: thigh to thigh on your sofa with this hyper, golden retriever of a girl you just met less than a day ago, playing Slot Racers for long after her clothes are finished drying.

Just as you were about to beat Robin for the third race in a row, you hear the telltale sound of a key turning in the lock of your front door.

To say your father– who clearly was not expecting anyone to be home yet– was surprised, would be an understatement.

“Y/N?”

“Dad!” You shout, whipping around from where you’re sitting on the couch, “What’re you doing home already?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Oh I– I uhm–” you stumble over yourself as you watch your worst fear become a terrifying reality.

“Why is there a stranger in my house?” He asks, interrupting your attempts at explaining yourself.

“Oh, this is–”

Robin shoots up rather abruptly from beside you, sticking her hand out stiffly– just like she did in the bathroom earlier, “Hi, I’m– my name’s Robin, it’s nice to meet you.”

She clears her throat nervously as she waits for your father to return the gesture as you had, but he doesn’t. He keeps his focus solely on you.

“Why is Robin in my house when your mother and I are not here?”

“Earlier, at school, Robin spilled something on her shirt. We came back here so she could wash it.” You know before you even offer it that your explanation isn’t going to cut it. You’re not getting off the hook this time.

“I see. I want you to take Robin back to her own house, and then I want you coming straight back here. Do you understand?”

“Yes–”

“‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He waves you away with this hand, signaling you to grab Robin by her wrist to drag her to the washer and dryer unit next to your kitchen. You pluck her outfit from the machine and wordlessly lead her back to your car parked in the driveway.

It’s not until you’re idling in Robin’s driveway with her stark presence still beside you that you’re able to clock how fast you’re breathing.

“Hey,” she grazes your forearm with her slender, ring clad fingers, “are you okay?”

“Yeah!” You reassure her a little too quickly, “Yeah, my dads just– he can be a little strict sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, believe me, I get it,” she chuckles, but it's mostly humorless, “my moms a lot like that too– I’m honestly still trying to figure out how I’m gonna explain why I’m wearing someone else’s clothes.”

“Maybe just say you got too sweaty during PE?”

That elicits a real laugh from Robin, one where you can see all her teeth as she throws her head back against the passenger seat. You think it’s the first time you’ve seen it but subconsciously hoping it won’t be the last.

“Honestly? Best case scenario is that she’s passed out, wine drunk, on the couch.”

She tries to mask the inherent sadness of her statement with another small giggle, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Well– here,” you say, grabbing a pen out of your glovebox and her hand, “just in case she is awake, you can call me, and I'll tell her what happened,” you offer, scribbling your landline’s number on her clammy palm.

“Thanks,” she smiles shyly, looking up at you through her lashes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” You ask, “In band?”

“Yeah, I’ll– I’ll see you then,” she calls back with a two-finger salute as she shuts the door to your passenger seat and walks backwards towards her house.

You’re not sure what compels you to wait, parked in her driveway until you see her cross the threshold of her trailer door, but you do.

...

There is hell to pay when you get home.

Both of your parents sit side by side on the couch you had just sat on with Robin not more than thirty minutes ago.

Had he seriously called your mother home from work for this?

There's nothing polite or welcoming about their demeanor. Their posture is straight and hard, like two stone statues sitting in a stark contrast to the living room that’s all soft cushions and handmade quilts.

“Sit.” Your father commands.

So, you do, in the armchair across the room from them. Palms beginning to sweat.

You try to mirror their posture out of habit but find that you can’t will yourself to be so cold as them. You’re a human girl, after all. Sometimes you think the same can’t be said about your mother and father. You wonder what they talk about when you’re not around.

“I don’t want you hanging around that girl anymore,” your father speaks again. He spits the word ‘girl’ out of his mouth like its poison– like it may physically harm him to house between his teeth for even a second longer, “she’s a bad influence on you.”

“You don’t even know her–” you try to protest, though you saw this coming.

“Perhaps we could’ve gotten the chance to if you hadn’t snuck her into the house!” Your mother butts in, “You’ve never done something like this before! I simply don’t understand it.”

“I–”

“I mean, really, what’s gotten into you?” She asks, though you know the question is rhetorical. She’s not truly expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry,” you say, defeated, “It won’t happen again.”

“Go wash up. Supper is in an hour.” Your father dismisses you.

Upstairs, you can hear their hushed voices arguing about what to do with you as if they found you smoking pot or something. Or maybe even having unprotected, pre-marital sex with your boyfriend and them sleeping in the room next door. What you actually did feels wildly inconsequential in comparison, but then again, you’d never really broken a house rule before.

You poked and prodded at your shepherd's pie for an hour before they finally sent you away from the dining table. You thought about Robin approximately every four and a half minutes. You don’t know what it was about her that made you lose your appetite, but not in the way you do when you’re angry or sad– in the way you do before a big test, or maybe prom night. The moths in your gut too restless, taking up far too much space for any food.

Tossing and turning in your bed, you kept imagining your phone ringing. The phantom sound of it driving you nearly insane. And when it does finally ring, you think you’re not really hearing it.

Picking up the receiver and placing it adjacent to your ear, expecting to hear the distinct but strangely familiar rasp of Robin’s voice on the other line.

“Hey, babe,”

Ben.

You ignore the way your stomach drops slightly in disappointment, “Hey, Ben.”

“Where’d you go earlier? I didn’t see you in sixth period.”

“Yeah, I–” Think of something. Quickly. “I wasn’t feeling well. Went home early.”

“Oh, Okay. A couple people said they saw you leaving with this girl? Thought maybe you’d ditched, but then I thought ‘that’s crazy, she’d never do that.’” He laughed as if it was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard. Ben. Your sweet, naive Ben.

Your reciprocated laughter sounds a touch more nervous and less sincere than his, “Gosh, no,”

A feminine giggle breaks the barrier of the call.

“Is someone there?” You ask.

“What?”

“I thought I heard something. A laugh, maybe?”

“TV’s on downstair, baby.”

You don’t think to question it again. Ben may be dull, but he’s not a liar.

When you don’t speak again, he asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, you’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Sweet, love you.”

He hangs up the phone before you get the chance to say it back. You don’t know why, but you’re grateful. You can’t help but notice that he’d never asked you how you were feeling. Obviously, you weren’t really sick, but he had at least thought you were.

You put it out of your mind as you open your journal:

Dear diary,

I met this girl today. She’s lanky. And tall. And has short brown hair. Her clothes are a little beat up, but in that cool way I can never seem to do on purpose. I found her crying in the bathroom, which was a little awkward. Turns out we’re both in the marching band! I know we’re graduating soon and all but, I don’t know maybe we could end up being friends? I feel like Claire’s been totally in her own world lately. She actually said some really harsh things to me at lunch today. I also ditched school. I feel guilty. I prayed about it, repented too, but momma and daddy are still really mad at me. But I was doing it to help someone! That girl, her name is Robin. I don’t know her last name. I’ll remember to ask her tomorrow morning.

divider credit to @/saradika-graphics

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 6

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: You start off your criminal career and you and Eddie talk about alignments

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n

Word Count: 3.9k words

Master List

This was not a good idea. Well, Stacy thought it was a good idea. You were unsure, even though it was your stupid idea. 

“It’s a store. You’ve been in a store before.” Stacy sighed as you stared at the small game shop that the two of you were parked in front of. 

“Yeah, but not this store.” you pointed out. “This is so stupid. Let’s just go do something else.” 

“Oh no, you begged me to bring you here and so you’re going to do this. It’s a store. They sell things. You want to buy things.” She opened up her door and stepped out of the car and marched to the front of the building and waited there for you. 

You had begged her, and that was the most embarrassing thing. In your euphoria of having Eddie talk to you about Dungeons and Dragons you had asked Stacy to take you to the game store in town to pick up your own copy of the game manual to learn. It seemed so simple in the heat of the moment; get the manual, learn the rules, impress Eddie by playing his game and then he falls in love with you. 

And Stacy, being the good friend that she is, agreed to the plan after laughing her ass off. 

You got out of the car, seeing no other choice but to commit to this plan. She held the door open for you as you both entered the store. It was small, and there was a slight musky scent to the room. There were a few guys hanging around the back, huddled over some sort of card game and you were met with some odd looks. That didn’t really surprise you though, you didn’t think that many girls came in here, especially not ones that looked like Stacy with her perfect perm and lipgloss smile. 

The shopkeep looked unimpressed as you made your way to the counter. 

“Makeup shop is down the street.” he said, looking back down at the comic he was reading on the counter. He had messy dishwater blond hair, and his crooked name tag read CHRIS.

Any nerves you had suddenly vanished, as now you were just pissed. What the fuck was that comment about?

“Actually, I’m here to pick up a copy of the Dungeons and Dragons manual.” you said, stepping up to the counter. The cashier didn’t move his head, but his eyes flicked up at you. 

“Original or advanced?” he asked. 

“Advanced.” You said confidently, not knowing the difference or that there was more than one version but advanced had to be more impressive, right? 

The cashier rolled his eyes and pointed vaguely in the direction of a rack on the far wall, and you saw that Stacy was already looking at the different items. You made your way over and scanned the shelves until you found the manual for Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. There was a lot more in the section than you had thought. There were several books filled with what looked like stories about the game, but you didn’t have much to go off of what you remembered Eddie talking about. You held the manual as you scanned the other books, your eyes landing on something called The Tomb of Horrors. You picked it up and flipped through it for a moment, figuring out that it was some sort of companion to the game. Were all players supposed to have these? 

“The art’s cool at least.” Stacy said, looking over your shoulder. “Lot of numbers though.”

“You literally tutor me in math, I don’t wanna hear it.” You countered.

“You won’t find any princess fairytale in that.” A voice said, and you turned to see the cashier, as well as the rest of the store staring at the two of you. 

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“I’m just saying it’s a fantasy game but it’s serious business,” he said. “I’m sure if you go to another store there are games that are more your speed.” 

“Excuse me?” you repeated yourself, your cheeks now burning. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, it’s cute that you come in here all dolled up but this is a serious store so if you’re just here to look at pictures you’re gonna have to leave.” 

You really didn’t like the way he was looking at Stacy, and it made your blood boil. “Dude, what the hell is your problem? I’m here to buy something, do you want my money or not?!”

One arm or not, you were fighting the urge to deck this guy in the face. 

“Okay, I see we aren’t wanted here.” Stacy said quickly, pushing you towards the door. You stared at her, as she flipped her hair and gave the cashier a look that baffled you. “I’m, like, so sorry to bother you all. I was just so curious about the game my cousin was so obsessed with.”

The cashier faltered for a second, and if you weren’t so pissed you’d find it funny how quickly his brain seemed to have turned to mush. 

“Well uh- if you really wanted to know about the game I’d be more than happy to teach you. Maybe set up a little one on one-”

Oh, gross. You quickly turned heel and walked out of the shop to Stacy’s car feeling all sorts of bogus feelings. 

Stacy was right behind you thirty seconds later. “Car. Now.” she said, and you wasted no time getting in as she sped off before you could even put on your seatbelt. 

“You owe me.” she said firmly. “What a creep! Ugh, you’re lucky you’re my best friend.” 

“This was such a stupid idea.” you said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that the store would be... that.” 

“Whatever, buy me a milkshake and we’ll call it even. You better have that book memorized next time you see Eddie.”

What book-

“Oh fuck, I didn’t pay for these!” you stared at the two books in your hand. 

“Duh, as if I’d let you spend money in there.” Stacy said. 

“Stacy!” you gasped. 

“Yes?” 

“The only reason my parents let me hang out with you is because they think you’re a good influence.” 

“Their problem. Anyway, I actually really like the makeup store in that plaza and now I’ll have to avoid it for at least a few weeks so make it three milkshakes.” 

Your little grand theft nerd book probably saved you about fifteen bucks, so yeah, you owed Stacy big time for this. 

“And fries.” you agreed. 

“That goes without saying.”

The weekend passed by with no further petty crime, unless you counted the backstory that you created for a thief character. You still weren’t very certain that you did all the math correctly, but you tried. 

The manual was the most helpful, and you recognized terms that Eddie had used that had flown right over your head when he had talked so passionately about the game. The Tomb of Horrors was more interesting but you had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be reading this. It was a module, something that only the Dungeon Master would use to guide the players through the game. Reading it felt like cheating, even if you weren’t in Hellfire. 

It didn’t stop you from reading it all in one sitting, though. 

Monday rolled around, and you had spent so much time learning a game that you had forgotten to study for your English test.  

No. You didn’t forget. It was painfully in the back of your mind the whole time you were messing with paper and dice. But the louder that knowledge was, the more you focused on reading the books instead. 

You did the best that you could on Ms. Benson’s test and, not wanting to be the first one to turn it in, you spent the rest of the time staring at the back of Eddie’s head like some lovelorn teenager. Which you were. 

Eddie spent more time on his test than you, and you watched as he would write something, then erase, and write again. Occasionally he’d tap his pencil and stare up at the clock. You wondered if DIO was any good. Maybe if you were any kind of artist you’d been sketching the lines of his shoulders and the way he’d run his fingers through his wavy hair. You thought that his jacket and the denim vest made his form look older, more filled out maybe. It could also be that Eddie was a year older than you, and thus 2 years older than most of the seniors. 

After half the class turned in their tests, you walked up to turn yours in as well. You considered ‘accidentally’ brushing against his arm as you passed him but that felt too desperate. 

God, you had it bad. This felt pathetic. You didn’t give a shit about how anyone else here felt about you, but your IQ dropped into the single digits at any sight of Eddie.

You spent the rest of class re-reading the handbook under your desk, and stealing glances at Eddie who finally turned his test in about ten minutes before the bell rang. 

At least he tried. The thought was just as much praise for him as a jab at yourself. 

The bell rang and you got up and shoved the book in the new backpack that you had gotten permission to use to carry your books while you were still in a cast. Your wrist was twinging today, but you could ignore it for the most part. 

Eddie didn’t even look at you as he left the classroom. Why would he? A small conversation last week didn’t exactly make you friends but you wanted to try. 

In the time between arriving at school, and taking Benson’s test, Eddie had managed to study for a solid twenty minutes, which was about twenty minutes more than he had with most tests. It was better than nothing, and at least he could tell Wayne that he had tried. 

He doodled on the margins of the paper, hoping that Benson would be amused enough to maybe pass him a few bonus points. It had worked only once last year in science, but that didn’t stop him from doodling on every test since. 

The rest of the day passed by without much to report, it was only when Eddie was sitting in his van, getting ready to get the hell off Hawkin’s High property that he remembered that he had to report back to his parole officer (Benson) with his fellow inmate (you) to break some rocks (call random businesses in town). 

You were already in the classroom, staring at the binder with the notes you all had taken last week. 

“I’m grading tests today. Use the lounge again to make calls.” Ms. Benson said, grabbing a stack of papers from her desk. 

And those were all the marching orders the two of you received before making your way back to the teachers lounge. Eddie didn’t get why you two were still doing this. Last week the two of you had called pretty much everyone in the rolodex and had handed in all of the quotes given. 

“Is there anyone who we didn’t call last week?” Eddie asked, grabbing two chairs and dragging them over to the phone. You were already holding the binder and rolodex one handed. He could at least pretend to be a gentleman for now. 

“Some didn’t bother answering so maybe we call them again?” you suggested, plopping yourself down in the chair. 

Of the seven numbers left, you got 4 to answer and only one of them left any sort of helpful information. 

“Did Ms. Benson ever say how long we were supposed to be helping with this?” You asked, messing with the phone chord. The two of you were done, but neither of you had made a move to go back to the classroom. 

“Few weeks. Sounded like she was going to have us single handedly take care of Spring Day.” Eddie sighed. 

You stared at him blankly. Then to your cast. Then back to him. And then back to your cast. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Eddie said. “Not my fault you took a nosedive off the bleachers.”

“I did not!” you protested. “I threw myself down valiantly to distract our peers from the fact that Miles shit himself.”

“You should have let him fend for himself.” Eddie said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

You paused and looked at him for a moment with that same intense expression. Maybe you really were trying to study him like a bog. 

“I... was going to talk to you that day.” You said, and Eddie didn’t miss a slight waver in your voice as if you were nervous. “It had nothing to do with Miles.” 

Eddie couldn’t mask the shock on his face. “Me?” Why the hell were you trying to talk to him that day?

“Yeah I-” your nerves were throwing him off. He had always expected you to pick a fight with him every time the two of you made eye contact. “I made that stupid joke and you heard and I wanted to come over and apologize. Then, Miles elbowed me and I tripped and.... Yeah.” 

“Really?” Eddie was usually a master of words and bullshit, but this was rendering him speechless.

“Yeah. It was a really stupid joke and you looked pissed and flipped me off and I felt bad.” You, the person who always gave him dirty looks, felt bad? And you had been trying to come to him to-

“Shit. So it’s my fault you broke your arm.” He realized. If it had been anyone else, then he probably just would have rolled his eyes that day and ignored you but he’d made a show of making sure you knew he heard you. 

“Wrist. And... what the fuck are you talking about?” There was the pissed look he was used to!

“If I hadn’t flipped you off, you wouldn’t have hurt yourself.” 

“If I hadn’t made a stupid comment I wouldn’t have needed to apologize!” 

Seeing you so worked up about this amused Eddie greatly. He felt bad that you had broken a bone on his behalf but knowing that you had done that plus saved his ass from expulsion gave you some points in his book. 

“You’re probably the one one in this hell hole to ever apologize.” He said honestly. “I doubt anyone else would have apologized and then cleared my name.”

You just stared at him for a long time, an expression on your face he found frustratingly unreadable. Your furrowed brows said that you were pissed, but your eyes... well Eddie always knew when someone was looking at him with contempt. This wasn’t it. Confusion maybe? Frustration? Maybe you were pissed that you felt bad and broke your wrist? He wasn’t going to push it, especially when you were still looking at him. 

“So... should we go see Benson since we’re done with this?” he asked after you had stared at him like this for about ten seconds longer than he was comfortable with.  

It’s not like there was anything else the two of you could do so you just nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Eddie grabbed the binder and rolodex and kicked his chair back to its rightful place. When the two of you left the lounge, you made a move to turn left, but he turned right, in the opposite direction. 

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

“Takin’ the scenic route.” Eddie didn’t even bother turning around as he kept walking. 

You stood there like an idiot for a moment before jogging to catch up to him. “There’s a scenic route?”

“Yup.” Eddie said. You’d either join him and he could try and figure you out, or you’d ditch and go running to Benson. By the look on your face when she mentioned grading tests, he didn’t think you’d be in a rush back to the Warden. 

Eddie led you to the end of the hallway and opened up a door that led you both outside. It was chilly out, and you wished you had grabbed your jacket from your bag but it was such a pain to put on with the cast. 

You were now playing hooky with Eddie Munson. Well, shirking your semi-detention duties which was close enough. 

Okay. You were alone with the guy you’d been pining for, and he was hanging out with you in a seemingly willing way. Just talk to him. Ask him a question. 

“Would you rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse?” you asked. If it was a good enough ice breaker for Stacy, it’s good enough for Eddie. Hopefully. 

“Duck sized horse.” Eddie said instantly, looking at you. “Every time.” 

If he thought the question was stupid, he hid it well. 

“Explain yourself.” you said. 

“A horse sized duck would be too powerful.” Eddie explained, leading you past the football field and into the woods. “Ducks are made of evil and hatred, and I’d rather punt a small horse than deal with that.” 

Okay, so that was an answer you were not expecting. “Ducks are evil...?” you asked. 

“Oh, very evil.” Eddie said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“....Chaotic, lawful, or neutral?” 

Eddie stopped walking to stare at you with wide eyes, and you felt your face heat up painfully even in the cool air. 

“Neutral.” Eddie finally said. “I’m sure there’s some duck code that I haven’t cracked, but as far as I’m concerned they’re all the same base evil across the board.” 

“I think geese would be chaotic evil.” you offered as the two of you started walking again into the woods. “I had one that would randomly attack me in my old neighborhood every time I walked down the street.”

“Most waterfowl are some flavor of evil.”

“Maybe swans are lawful?” 

The two of you sat on an old abandoned picnic table, and Eddie lit up a cigarette. 

“So, you were paying attention to my little lecture last week.” he blew the smoke away from you as he exhaled. “I figured that you would have forgotten anything I said by now.”

How could you? You’ve been replaying that moment in your mind over and over all weekend. Not that you could tell him that. 

“It was interesting.” That was putting it mildly. “It sounds like a lot of fun, honestly.”

Take the hint take the hint take the hint take the hint-

“I love it. We’re close to wrapping up this campaign, too. If they don’t royally fuck over my plans then everything should be wrapped up in a nice little bow by the end of the school year. It’s getting serious, and none of them are allowed to skip out on Hellfire unless they are actively dying.” 

The hint flew right past him, running off into the woods while carrying your hopes and dreams. Of course, trying to join this late in the year with only a few weeks left of school would be impossible. It would be like trying to join the basketball team right before the championship game. 

“You really take it seriously.” you looked over at him, taking in his profile as he took another drag of his cigarette. 

“As serious as the plague.” He exhaled. “It’s the only thing that keeps me coming back to school most days. Well, that and I promised my uncle I’d graduate.” 

“Your uncle...?”

“Yeah, I live with him.” 

You wanted to ask more, but this was the first time the two of you had really had a conversation. Would it be weird to ask more?

“Where do you guys live?” Nope, that was too weird and personal to ask but you did anyway. 

“Forest Hills.”

He didn’t say it was the trailer park, but he didn’t need to. The answers were short, and you could take the hint he didn’t want to talk about his personal life. You’d take any scrap he’d throw at you.

“Have you always been the Dungeon Master?”

And off he went again, his eyes lighting up as he regaled you with the rise of Hellfire. How his best friend Ronnie had dragged him to this weird club at someone’s house and he had been hooked ever since. When the original DM left, Eddie took over. His first campaign had been clunky, but the more he dove into this world he created the better it got. 

The more Eddie talked about the game, the worse your attraction to him got, and the more you mourned any opportunity to be part of his world. Your feelings for him aside, it really did sound like a lot of fun. 

The bell rang far too soon and you and Eddie booked it back to Ms. Benson’s class. You handed over the notes and information you gathered and she dismissed you both with a waive of her hand. 

“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” you said as the two of you made your way to the front of the school. 

“Tomorrow.” he corrected. “Unless you plan on Benson’s class tomorrow.”

“It’s tempting.” You wonder how quickly that failed test would get back to you. 

The two of you passed a group of cheerleaders who were giving Eddie dirty looks before they really noticed you next to him. Two of them- Chrissy and Emma- smiled and waved at you. You gave a smile and waved back, hoping that they took it as a sign that Eddie was more than welcome to be walking next to you. 

“You’re friends with everyone, huh?” Eddie asked when they were out of earshot. 

“Not really?” His question was confusing. Other than Stacy, he was the only other person who you had any consistent alone time with, and that was because he was being forced to. “I talk with some of them sometimes but we’ve never hung out. I think I just don’t offend them.”

“I didn’t think you were the cheer type.” Eddie waved his hands as if waving imaginary pompoms and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Nah, I’ve never been in with any cheer squad, unless you count the Field Day in elementary school. I twisted my ankle and was given some fake pompoms to wave while all the other kids played.” 

“Oh, so hurting yourself during sport themed activities is a hobby of yours?” Eddie asked. “There are easier and less painful ways to skip gym.”

“Oh, now you tell me!” you feigned shock. “I wish you had told me earlier.”

“Happy to be of service.” he bowed dramatically. 

Outside, you spotted Stacy standing by her car and chatting with a boy. Fresh meat. You thought to yourself. 

“It’s probably because you’re friends with her.” Eddie said, looking over at Stacy. 

“Huh?”

“I mean, she was on the team before. If one of those girls likes you, then the rest will at least tolerate you.” 

“...Stacy was a cheerleader?” you snapped your head at him. That would explain so much, but why didn’t you know this? 

“You didn’t know?” 

“I guess not.” 

“HEY! YOU NEED A RIDE OR WHAT?!” Stacy yelled from across the parking lot. The guy she was chatting with was gone and she was waving her arms. You mentally added pompoms to her hands and suppressed a laugh. 

“I guess that’s my cue.” you said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“If I don’t skip.” he winked at you and headed towards his van, so casually, as if he didn’t just make your little heart explode and your knees weak. 

For the first time ever, you were actually looking forward to school the next day.

Author Notes: Sometimes I worry that Reader and Stacy have more chemistry. Oh well. Also I had to re-write half of this fic because my dumb ass went from Eddie POV to Reader's.

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[freshloveee]

♬.ᐟ ― 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

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NICK STURNIOLO +7 OTHER USERS HAVE UPDATED

NICK STURNIOLO ... the school gossiper. he runs the most popular drama blog on the slap. best friends with rose. nobody really know how he got in but he is there.

MATT STURNIOLO ... guitarist. main reason the triplets got into hollywood arts. extremely introverted. musical genius. rarely sings but when he does it's good.

CHRIS STURNIOLO ... school's crush but is dedicated to his girl. finds any excuse to bring up his hair. mainly acts but can also play a few intstruments.

NATE DOE ... most unserious student ever. best friends with chris and that's the exact reson he applied. he lied about being a professional actor to get in and it somehow worked.

ROSE ... she's just...yeah. so confident it's kind of concerning. does a little bit of everything. hollywood art's laughing stock but it girl at the same time.

BAT ... the best at improv. lowkey insane but it's okay because she's hot. so protective over chris. new hair color every week. abuses her use of the slap every day.

VAL ... the whole school does not play about her. everytime she speaks you just gotta smile and nod. mainly acts but is freakishly good at singing.

MELODY ... the singer and the actor. lead-roles in everything imaginable. perfectionist. arguably the most popular girl in school. trend-setter.

kalia speaks 🪽 - im so fucking excited inspired by this ask on @leoslaboratory's blog (go check her out she is so fucking underrated) music divider from @bernardsbendystraws (HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY ON TUMBLR)

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