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cxvii666 · 5 months ago

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“hoe cakes”

a college au feat. denki k. & hanta s.

“i got this girl and she wants me to duke her, i told her i'd come scoop her around eight, she said, super!”

wc: 2k

starting track...

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

....

"omg, oh my god!"

denki kaminari bursts into the library, zero tact, completely out of breath, face all flushed, chest heaving, and rushes over to where his friends are sat, nearly knocking over bakugou's laptop as he drops his backpack and practically leaps over the table, to try and talk to sero.

bakugou, who was sat minding his own fucking business, turns his head in absolute disbelief, about to swing on the guy, but pauses at denki's heavy breathing and frazzled state, kirishima's noise of concern is brushed off with a "gimme a second," as the blonde heaves for a minute, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"oh sero, bro," he gasps out finally, "i just saw the baddest girl ever, you gotta come quick."

any concerns over the blondes state quickly washes away and hanta sero looks up from his phone, disinterestedly. "dude, what? where?"

denki takes the seat opposite to his best friend, and points frantically from the direction he just ran from, "outside on the quad, there was a girl, with the hair, and the eyes."

sero, kiri, and bakugou had been in the library for at least three hours now and, god, hanta was bored.

he'd given up on waiting for denki to show face and had gotten so bored that he actually started studying. but damn, he needed a break. he rolls his shoulder with a yawn as he raises an eyebrow at denki.

bakugou sends both of them a death glare before putting his headphones on. hanta pulls a face at him before stretching out his back and then relaxing into his chair, voice dropping to a mock whisper and teases, "bro said 'hair and eyes'."

"just shut up for a sec," denki hisses and slumps down on the table, partially ontop of one of hanta's textbooks, "wow, i really need to start hitting the gym, fuck, my chest hurts."

hanta rolls his eyes at his friends dramatics as he doodles in the margin of his textbook. denki takes his silence as a sign to continue.

"you gotta, just listen- soooo, i'm walking outside by that big tree on the quad becuase it's super windy and i couldn't catch a light, and, oh, i can't even describe her, but yeah, there was one loud smell, and you know me, i had to follow it and BAM there she was with sat behind the bike shed with, what's his name?" he jabs a thumb at kiri, "his friend. y'know the guy with the hair- yeah- uh, they were smoking like-"

his increasing longwinded tale, that is increasingly arising in volume, in very quiet section of the library, is cut off by, a very impolite bakugou clearing his throat, threat clear in his eyes.

it seems like hanta's brain is finally starting to switch on, as his eyes widen at the implication of his denki's words. "oh shit," he wiggles his eyebrows at his friend playfully, his voice still low, "is she still outside? i have to see this..."

"well fucking exactly!" denki 'whispers' back gesturing wildy with is arms, "that's what i've been trying to fucking say but your slow ass keeps asking me questions and-"

the blonde pauses and suddenly snatches up hanta's notebook to cover his face as he ducks.

"and what?" sero repeats, his face scrunching in confusion.

"shut- the fuck up," the break in denki's voice is comical, "holy shit, don't make it obvious, she's behind-"

sero's head whips to the side so fast, i swear there was an audible click. and sure enough, if he tilts his head, and squints to look, in the gaps in between the bookshelves, there you are.

"i said don't make it obvious, you fucking moron."

too late now.

he's staring at you unabashedly as you walk into their section behind two of your friends, easy smile gracing your features, as you all take a seat on one of the open tables across the library.

"oh shit," hanta gulps moving to look at denki, who has now leaned over the table to stare at you from over hanta's shoulder, "she does have hair and eyes."

"what did i just say fucking say, i swear, this guy-"

the blonde is too loud in his ear and hanta pushes his friend's head away with his palm, eyes still on your figure. "have you spoken to her yet?"

"what part are you not getting?" and denki gets all up in his face and pushes his own fingers into hanta's forehead in retaliation, as he repeats, exasperated, "i saw her, and then, i came straight here, to find you!"

"what, oh..." the realisation dawns on him finally and a lazy smirk creeps onto his features, "bro, your superrr freaky, i'm in, hundred percent. do you think she'll be down?"

"you're both fucking idiots, you know that, right?"

bakugou who has seemingly been listening, eavesdropping, in on their conversation, scoffed at his friends.

"i thought you were studying, kacchan?"

kirishima had been sat next to hanta, and when the question in his eyes, that flit between the two grinning fools, goes unanswered by either, bakugou sighs deeply, and points, with violent intent for sure, his mechanical pencil in the direction of the other blonde, his voice gruff, "were you not there? last friday night? when the fuck-squad was playing 'would you rather', talkin' bout-"

"about threesomes!" denki cuts in, grin manic, as hanta snickers opposite him, "ok kiri, lemme' ask you, because we've been debating for like two days, would you rather a threesome with another guy, or two girls? because i- said another guy-"

"wait i am so lost, what-"

"fellas, is it gay to want a threeway with your homie?"

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

"bro, hear me out, but this might be fate."

hanta's reply is muffled through a mouthful of pizza.

after not getting kicked out of the library, the two decided, denki decided and hanta had the evening off work, to go into town. initially, denki had sold hanta the idea of beer and ramen, but by the time they got to the high street, the smell of pizza seemed to be calling.

the pizza place was local, and extremely well known by their friend group, and the two had stumbled in, many a night, drunk, or faded, or both. and, directly opposite, happened to be, a record shop.

they'd been in there with jirou maybe once or twice, but it was one of those old buildings that always looked closed.

like right now. from out of the big glass window on the left side of their favourite booth, and they could see the shop front, the lights were out, windows all shut down.

and guess who was right outside of their fucking window, across the street, unlocking the front door.

"where tf are you going?" hanta coughs out in between bites rolling his eyes, because of course, denki is already grabbing his hoodie and fixing to stand up. like they reaally couldn't sit down and eat for five minutes.

"fym, where am i going," he mimics- "a golden opportunity," and again, denki is waving his hands about like a maniac, gesturing vaguely upwards, like universe or some other divine entity had blessed them and hanta was stupid for not getting it, "has just been handed to us, and you don't wanna jump on it?"

it's silent for a beat, only broken by hanta slurping noisily from his straw. he takes a moment to burp loudly and to glance forlornly at their hot pizza. he closes his eyes and sighs, already mourning the taste of the cheese on his tongue, before he resigns himself to whatever the fuckmess of a two man step denki is planning.

"jump on it?"

"jump on it."

"jum- y'know what, fine, lets go, and you can do all the talking."

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

"i can't believe you forgot your key again."

the disc your holding nearly slips from your grasp as you move your phone from your ear and set it on the till counter. you click the speaker on and the sound of your coworker's rushed apologies flood the empty store.

you silently shake your head at her panic and place the stray disc back onto the cd tower whilst trying to reassure her softly. it was no big deal, you were already in the area, no, it's not a problem, blah blah.

once the line drops, you figure you might as well start opening the store for the evening and start by switching the big speaker on and slowly turning up the volume. whatever album that was already queued starts playing as you start clearing the area around the cash register.

as you card through the cds on the display rack, mentally making note of what needs to be switched out, nodding your head to the beat of the music, the bell jingles softly and footsteps pattern inside.

you don't look up and instead go to grab some receipt paper and pen, "that was quick, you said fifteen minutes."

you continue scratching out mixtape names onto the paper and humming along to the music. before you freeze, when you hear what sounds like a chuckle, a distinctly male chuckle.

"i haven't said anything yet."

the blonde speaks and you don't have time to think before you're brandishing your pen in front of you defensively like its a small plastic sword.

denki yelps, dramatic, and hanta looks like he's about burst out laughing, but when he looks at you, like looks at you, at the crinkle in your eyes and the bounce of your hair, he swallows his laughter with a cough.

"d'you greet all your customers like this, or are we just special?"

his voice is smooth, and you lower the pen, but not your gaze, trying not feel to too embarrassed, and shoot back, "well i don't know, do you always creep up on people like that?"

hanta's face twitches into a smile, as you roll your eyes, check the time. you'll finish clearing up, your coworker will arrive, and she can tend to the weird hot guys nosing around the shop, as payment for making you come in.

except it seems denki has other plans, and has recovered from his initial shock, as he's sauntered right up to the cash desk and its fiddling about with the display items. hanta scoffs silently at his act and turns to card his fingers through the vinyls stacked neatly on the main table.

the blonde clears his throat, once, twice, "aren't you-" and then he squints his amber eyes in fake recognition, "don't we have a class together?"

you look up from where you'd been reordering some cd cases to take in his features. the gentle slope of delicate nose, his bright eyes, the poorly dyed streak in his hair, the half smirk half smile painting his pretty pink lips.

"hmmm, no, i don't think so."

"no, no, i swear, aren't you in our uh, english lit class, right dude."

hanta snorts and your eyes lock across the shop. his narrow in thought, then he taps his chin like he's remembering something.

"y'know what, she does look kinda familiar." identical cheeky smirks dressing both of their faces, "maybe we do have a class together."

your laugh may be short, sarcastic, but it's light and airy, a soft exhale. "did you guys come in here to buy something, or just to waste my time?"

"and no, we don't have any classes together," your gaze floats from denki, and the way his hair softly falls about his face, "'think i woulda noticed you," to hanta's eyes, warm and brown watching carefully, like something is so heavily amusing to him. "both of you."

neither of them make to move from where their feet are planted on the carpeted floor. and you smirk when you hear the jingle of the door bells for the second time.

hands flying into action, you grab the pen again and scribble another note and slap it onto the counter. your sleeve brushes against denki's, and before he can even feel the static shock of the friction, you're grabbing your phone and your bag, and making your way to the front of the store, and waving your coworker goodbye.

the store echoes with the jingle for the third time.

and resting on the counter, next to denki's arm is the paper you left.

with your number on it.

...end of playback

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next track ▷ 93 'til infinity

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girldeadsworld · 5 months ago

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Unspoken evidence

Spencer Reid x reader

Masterlist

Pov: Spencer is trying to give you hints about his feelings throughout a case. But in the end he decides to show them in a more direct way

Warnings: non just fluff and our pretty boy being his awkward cute self

The conference room smelled like stale coffee and whiteboard markers, the hum of the overhead lights barely masking the shuffle of papers and the occasional clack of a laptop keyboard. You sat across from Spencer Reid, poring over case files, your fingers lightly tapping your pen against your notebook as you reread the suspect's profile for the third time.

"He's escalating," you muttered, glancing up at Spencer, who was staring at you — not at the file in your hands.

"Uh, yeah," he said, blinking and quickly shifting his gaze to his own paperwork. "Statistically, the frequency of attacks suggests the unsub is growing more reckless, which aligns with the stressor timeline."

You nodded, but your lips twitched with amusement. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught him watching you today. "Spence, you okay? You seem... distracted."

Before he could answer, Derek Morgan leaned against the doorframe, a knowing grin on his face. "Distracted? Our boy wonder? Nah. He’s just thinking really hard... about something," he teased, dragging out the last words.

Spencer’s ears went red. "I'm just focused on the case," he mumbled, flipping a page in his file with unnecessary force.

You raised an eyebrow but let it slide.

Later, while you and Spencer reviewed geographical profiles at a precinct computer, he leaned a little closer than necessary, his shoulder brushing yours. His voice softened as he pointed to a map. "I, um, got you coffee earlier. The way you like it. It’s on your desk."

You smiled. "Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet of you."

His fingers twitched against the edge of the desk, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "I just... thought you could use the energy," he said, voice lower than usual.

Emily passed by and shot you a wink, whispering, "Smooth, Reid," before disappearing down the hallway.

By the time the case wrapped, the unsub in custody, and paperwork almost finished, you found yourself sitting next to Spencer on the jet. Everyone else was either asleep or wearing headphones, lost in their own world.

"You were really great on this case," Spencer said suddenly, twisting a rubber band around his fingers.

"So were you," you replied, turning to face him fully. "Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you here."

He swallowed hard, and you could practically see the internal debate happening behind his eyes. Then, finally, he took a deep breath.

"Would you want to go to dinner with me? Sometime?" he blurted out, words tumbling over each other in a rush. "Not as coworkers, I mean. As... something else. If you want to."

Your heart did a little flip, and a slow smile spread across your face. "I’d love to."

From across the cabin, Morgan pumped a fist in the air without even opening his eyes. "Finally!"

You burst out laughing while Spencer was trying to hide his heated up cheeks by looking down

Spencer’s relief was shining through every line of his face.

And just like that, the unspoken feelings were finally out in the open — evidence of something you both had been building all along.

That was it. Tell me your opinion about it or what changes you think I should make. Feel free to request whatever<3<3

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #sexy nerd #nerdy babe #matthew gubler

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prettygirl-gabi · 4 months ago

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Chapter 35: All That Mattered

Pairing: Paige Bueckers × Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: rude fans, slice of life… I think that’s all

Summary: life of your average college student and team photographer who’s got a promise ring now

Welcome to the chapter 35 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The late-night glow of my laptop screen illuminated my face as I clicked through the latest batch of photos, fingers moving on autopilot as I adjusted lighting, sharpened details, and cropped shots that captured the best moments from our last practice. The bus ride to Chicago was long, and while most of the team was either asleep, watching movies, or locked into their headphones, I was trying to balance my duties as the team photographer and a student.

Kaitlyn nudged me from the seat next to mine, peeking over my screen. “You’ve been staring at that photo for ten minutes. Either it’s a masterpiece or you need to blink.”

I let out a breathy laugh, rubbing my eyes before returning to my editing. “It’s the shot of Paige’s behind-the-back pass to KK. The lighting in the gym was garbage, from the angle I took it, so I’m trying to fix it.”

Kaitlyn leaned back into her seat. “You’re the best photographer in the country, Y/N. That photo probably already looks amazing.”

I smirked, glancing over at her. “Flattery will not make me do your writing assignment for you.”

She gasped dramatically. “I would never!”

“Uh-huh,” I hummed before saving my progress and finally shutting my laptop. “You should’ve asked Ice. She loves writing about communication strategies.”

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. “And yet, here I am, suffering in silence.”

Before I could respond, Paige leaned over the seat from behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You’ve been working since we got on this bus. How about a break?”

I sighed, closing my notes. “You’re right. But if I fail this discussion post, I’m blaming you.”

She chuckled, kissing my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Kaitlyn made a fake gagging noise, which only earned her a flick on the arm from me.

By the time we got to the hotel, room assignments were handed out. I wasn’t surprised when I saw I’d been paired with Kaitlyn and Allie—Coach usually let us group up based on friendships and study habits, but not this trip something about being locked in for the game, and honestly the three of us made a good mix of chaos and productivity.

What I wasn’t surprised about, however, was Paige’s attempt to change that.

She pulled Kaitlyn and Allie aside while I was grabbing my bags, whispering something to them that had both of them snickering. When I walked over, Allie just patted my shoulder and said, “Your girlfriend’s real persuasive, but I like my bed too much to switch.”

I raised a brow, turning to Paige. “Really?”

Paige gave me her best innocent look. “What? I just thought we could spend a little more time together.”

I nudged her playfully. “You act like we don’t see each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s different.”

Kaitlyn clapped Paige on the back. “Sorry, Bueckers. We got dibs.”

Paige sighed dramatically, sending me one last pleading look before grabbing her own room key. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if I ‘accidentally’ show up at your door.”

After dropping my things in the hotel room I was sharing with Kaitlyn and Allie, I pulled out my laptop and notebooks, sighing as I got comfortable on the bed. KK plopped down next to me, already opening her own notes.

“You’d think they’d give us a break with all the travel,” she muttered, scrolling through the assignment we’d been putting off.

I snorted. “Yeah, but they don’t care about our suffering.”

We worked quietly for a bit, occasionally whispering complaints or exchanging confused looks when one of the problems didn’t make sense. I was mid-sentence, typing out an answer, when the door creaked open.

Paige.

She leaned against the doorframe, her hood pulled up, looking way too pleased with herself.

KK barely glanced up. “Called it.”

I rolled my eyes. “You really couldn’t last one night?”

Paige ignored the question and stepped inside, holding up a bottle of melatonin gummies with a smirk. “Took two of these. No way I’m making it back to my room.”

Kaitlyn groaned from her bed, tossing a pillow at Paige’s face. “Bro, really?”

Paige caught it easily, tossing it onto the bed I was sitting on before crawling under the covers without a second thought. “Goodnight.”

I blinked. “Paige, that’s—”

Too late. She was already out.

Kaitlyn sighed, rubbing her temples. “Guess I’m sleeping with Allie.”

KK cackled. “Bueckers really got y’all in a hostage situation.”

I just shook my head, nudging Paige’s shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

She hummed in response but didn’t move.

Kk and I work on our assignments for another half hour before calling quits. Kk went back to her room as shoved Paige over some and went to sleep.

It was still dark outside when I woke up to pee, feeling Paige shift beside me. The alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which meant we had a good amount of time before practice. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before nudging her.

“Paige,” I whispered.

She groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “No. I don’t wanna.”

I sighed, pulling the blanket off her. “Yes. You gotta. Now, get up and go to your room before you end up rushing to get ready.”

She peeked one eye open, frowning. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yes, I’m saving you from yourself.”

With a dramatic sigh, she rolled onto her back, blinking at the ceiling before finally sitting up. “Fine. But I better get my pre-practice kiss later.”

I grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes your lil heart happy.”

She dragged herself to the door, still half-asleep as she trudged back to her room. I shook my head, amused, before flopping back down for a few more minutes of sleep.

By the time everyone was up and moving, Paige was fully awake and back to her usual self—clinging to me every chance she got, making up for the time I “stole” by kicking her out earlier.

As we got onto the bus for practice, she sat beside me, looping an arm around my waist.

“See?” she murmured. “If you’d just let me stay, I wouldn’t be this clingy.”

KK snorted from the seat in front of us. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

I laughed, leaning into Paige’s side. “Yeah, but I like her like this.”

Paige smirked. “Told you.”

Every thing at practice and shootaround was some what smooth besides Geno yelling once in a while about them doing something he has stated not to do while drawing the play in action.

At some point kk had a bright idea of me shooting a half court shot. I could see it cooking in her brain after I had thrown the ball back to Azzi after she shot it a little to far and landing into my lap.

“Oh… my sweet…sweet Y/N, I dare you to hit a half-court shot.”

I snorted. “KK, I’m not a hooper. I’m..I’m just a photographer. Not a hooper. I take pictures of hoopers.”

She shrugged. “So? Just try it. Please for lil ole meee.”

I glanced at the rest of the team, who were all watching now, some of them already recording on their phones. Paige crossed her arms, smirking like she already knew what was about to happen.

“Fine,” I sighed, grabbing a ball. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

I lined up at half-court, took a deep breath, and let the ball fly.

Surprisingly nothing but net. On the first try at that.

The entire gym erupted.

KK ran in circles, screaming, while Ice fell to the floor laughing. Paige was grinning like an idiot, and even Coach and every one else looked mildly impressed.

KK immediately posting the video with the caption:

“She secretly a baller..”

I rolled my eyes as my notifications blew up. “You just started something dangerous.”

KK grinned. “Oh, I know.”

The energy in the gym still buzzed from my half-court miracle shot as we returned to the hotel, my phone vibrating nonstop from KK’s Instagram story and TikTok post. Paige had been smirking at me the entire bus ride back, clearly enjoying the chaos KK had unleashed.

Once we stepped into the lobby, I barely had a chance to breathe before Paige grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward the elevator.

“Let’s go,” she said, a little too smug.

I raised an eyebrow. “Go where?”

“My room.”

“And what makes you think I’m just gonna—”

“Because I miss you,” she cut me off, squeezing my fingers. “And you love me.”

My face warmed, but I let her drag me along, ignoring the knowing looks from the rest of the team. Paige’s room was on a different floor than mine, so when we got there, Yanna and Sarah barely looked up, already sprawled out on their beds watching Netflix.

Paige immediately made herself comfortable, flopping onto her bed and patting the spot next to her. “Come here.”

I rolled my eyes but still crawled in beside her, letting her wrap an arm around my waist as she scrolled through the comments on KK’s post.

“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” she mused, clicking on a reply. “‘She needs to be on the team ASAP.��” She snorted, shaking her head. “They don’t know you have no left hand.”

“Excuse me, I am actually ambidextrous,” I scoffed.

“Exactly.”

I gasped, smacking her arm while she laughed, squeezing me closer in an attempt to avoid my retaliation. We stayed like that for a while, tangled together, my head tucked under her chin as she absentmindedly traced circles on my hip.

For a second, I thought we’d get to just chill like this all night.

But of course, I was wrong.

The door burst open, and before I could react, Ice grabbed my arms while KK grabbed my legs, yanking me off the bed.

“Hey—” I yelped as they carried me out of the room, ignoring Paige’s half-hearted protests.

“She’s ours for a bit,” Ice called over her shoulder.

I barely managed to twist my head back to see Paige sitting up, unimpressed. “Whatever. Bring her back in one piece.”

They hauled me into Azzi’s room, where she sat on the floor, arms crossed. Her hair was a mess, completely undone from the braids she’d had before we came to Chicago.

“Jana’s already knocked out,” she sighed. “And I need my braids redone.”

I blinked. “And this involves me because…?”

“You’re the best at them, besides Kayla of course.”

I groaned but sat down behind her, parting her hair with my fingers. “Y’all really got me working extra jobs on this team.”

Azzi grinned. “That’s why we love you.”

As I started on her braids, my phone rang. I glanced over at the screen, seeing Paige’s name flashing. Before I could even reach for it, Azzi grabbed my phone and answered.

“Hi, Paigey Paige,” she sang, flipping the camera to show me working on her hair.

Paige groaned dramatically through the phone. “Oh, so this is where you are?”

“She’s busy,” Azzi teased.

I rolled my eyes, tying off the braid I’d finished. “Paige, take the melatonin gummies and go to bed. If not, no pre-game kisses before we get off the bus tomorrow.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…You’re evil.”

I grinned. “Goodnight, Paige.”

She huffed but didn’t argue. “Goodnight, baby.”

The call ended, and Azzi smirked over her shoulder. “Whipped.”

I ignored her.

At some ungodly hour, I woke up to the feeling of someone climbing into my bed. I groaned, barely cracking an eye open before I was engulfed in warmth.

Paige.

She buried her face in my neck, arms tight around my waist. “You neglected me,” she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

I sighed, running my fingers through her hair. “I was literally in the same hotel as you.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Whatever remind me to room with anyone who won’t let you in so early in the morning, a girl needs beauty sleep.”

“Oh you’re already beautiful, baby.”

Kaitlyn coming back in from the gym, “Actually both of you are disgustingly disgusting. By the way you got an hour and thirty before we have to leave.”

I laughed softly, letting her cling to me for a few more minutes before we had to get up.

On the bus ride to the game, Paige was extra cutesy, refusing to let go of my hand. Every few minutes, she’d squeeze it, press lazy kisses to my knuckles, or play with my fingers.

“You act like we’re not about to spend the whole game together,” I teased, adjusting the strap on my camera bag.

“Yeah, but you’ll be working,” she pouted. “I have to get my time in now.”

KK, sitting across from us, gagged. “Y’all are so annoying.”

Paige just smirked, pulling me closer.

By the time we got off the bus at the arena, I was already in game mode, adjusting my camera settings. Paige, on the other hand, had grabbed both my camera equipment and her bag, carrying them like it was nothing.

“Babe, I can—”

“Nope,” she said simply. “Focus on your job.”

I sighed but didn’t argue, appreciating the gesture.

As we walked toward the tunnel, I felt the familiar weight of my main camera strap, but something was missing. My heart sank.

“My backup camera,” I muttered.

Ayanna, walking beside me, turned. “What?”

“I left my backup on the bus.”

Morgan, overhearing, sighed. “Come on, let’s go.”

The three of us turned back, but as we neared the bus, I caught murmurs from a few DePaul fans lingering outside.

“She thinks she’s engaged or something with that ring.”

“I bet Bueckers gave it to her just to keep her quiet.”

I instinctively curled my fingers, my thumb brushing over the silver band. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard something like that, but it still stung.

Ayanna and Morgan tensed beside me, but I quickly shook my head, giving them a warning glance. “Don’t.”

Ayanna clenched her jaw. “They’re talking about you like—”

“I know,” I interrupted softly. “But there are cameras everywhere. Let’s just get my camera and go.”

They exchanged glances but ultimately followed my lead, retrieving my back up camera before heading back inside. I didn’t say anything, but I could tell they were both still fuming.

Just another game. Another moment to capture.

And another day where, ring or not, Paige Bueckers made it clear exactly who I belonged to.

Despite the extra noise surrounding the game, we (they) handled business, securing an 84-58 win. As we walked back to the bus, still riding the high of victory, Sarah and Ice couldn’t resist teasing me about my promise ring.

“Y/N wears that thing like it’s a championship ring,” Sarah joked, nudging Ice.

Ice snickered. “Please, she probably kisses it goodnight.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re both hilarious.”

But, unfortunately, not everyone found it funny.

A group of fans—both UConn and DePaul—lingered near the tunnel, and as soon as they overheard Sarah and Ice, the murmurs started again.

“She’s way too obsessed with that thing.”

“Paige probably regrets giving it to her.”

“She acts like they’re married already.”

Ice took a sharp breath, about to fire something back, but I grabbed her wrist, shaking my head. “Let it go.”

Sarah frowned. “But—”

“Let it go,” I repeated, glancing at the phones already recording.

It wasn’t worth it. I knew what I had with Paige. I didn’t need validation from strangers.

Still, as we got on the bus, I couldn’t stop my fingers from tracing the ring, grounding myself in the quiet reminder that, no matter what anyone said, it was real.

Paige slid into the seat beside me, resting her hand on my knee. “You okay?”

I exhaled, leaning into her. “Yeah. Just… people talk.”

She squeezed my hand. “They always will. But that ring? It means something. We mean something. Hell we meant something long before either of us knew it.”

I looked down at our intertwined fingers, a soft smile finally breaking through. “Yeah. We do. We did.”

And that was all that mattered.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

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rad1og1rl · 1 year ago

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“Studying” With Jason Todd

Slumped over at your desk, in your messy dorm, your boyfriend Jason found you. You wish you were asleep. But you have an exam tomorrow, and if there’s one thing you’ve never learned, it’s that cramming is not a valid form of studying.

Can you really blame yourself ? It’s your second semester of your freshman year. You’ll learn eventually. Just not today. As you scribble away at your notes , glancing at the video for reference, you don’t notice the stealthy footsteps of your boyfriend. You’ve got headphones on and you’re in the zone, something which Jason realizes as he approaches your hunched form.

He taps lightly on your shoulder , announcing himself quietly as to not disturb you. At the interruption , you pause the video and place your headphones on the cluttered desk, turning to face him. He grins boyishly , and offers a hot cup of cocoa.

“Oh, Jaybird, thank you.. I didn’t realize you’d be stopping by tonight,” You say, graciously accepting the cup and lightly tugging his shirt, which he obliges by leaning down to meet you for a quick peck.

“I didn’t originally plan to, but someone didn’t answer my texts or calls.” He says, giving you a pointed look.

You grin sheepishly and set the cup on the desk. “Sorry… I think my phones been on Do Not Disturb. I’ve been studying for this exam for hours…. I’m really worried I’m gonna fail.” You admit, pouting slightly. Jason quirks a brow and glances at the video on your laptop, the open textbook, and various notes. He then sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, I get it. I didn’t like chem either. But that’s no excuse to make me worry the way you did. I know you didn’t mean to.” He says, then glances back at you. “But I also know you’ll do fine. You’ve been at this all day. Take a break. Go to sleep. You’re smart. And you studied before this, so you’ll be fine.” You smile and nod, turning off the laptop and shutting the textbook, pushing the notebooks and scattered papers to the side.

“I hope you’re right, Jay.” You sigh, standing up and pushing in the desk chair. You lean against your leather-clad boyfriend, and he embraces you tightly. He pushes you to the bed and you sat down, and he handed you the cup before sitting next to you.

“Trust me. You’ve got this. And I’m tired of seeing my baby stressed over this.” He says, peeling off his leather jacket and tossing it on the chair in front of the desk. He kicks off his boots and makes himself comfortable on your bed, while you sip the hot beverage quietly beside him.

“How was it tonight ? … Out there, I mean. On patrol.” You murmur , still clutching the paper cup with both hands as you stare off into space, post-cram haze and lack of sleep hitting you full force. Jason glances at you as he’s leaned back and propped up on his elbows, eyeing your dazed state.

“Same old. Few goons here n’ there… kicked their ass, got the info, then went to that café you like on 33rd Street and picked up that cocoa. Figured you’d appreciate it…” Jason says, thoughtfully. “I always do. You’re the best.” You say, smiling and finishing the drink, setting the empty cup on your bedside table. “And to think… you even got me something when you were upset with me?” You ask, crawling up further on the twin bed and lying on your side, waiting for him to join you.

Jason catches on and mimics you, lying down to face you with one arm under his head and the other resting between the both of you. “You’re right , I should only get stuff for good partners that pick up their phone.” He says, half-joking. You roll your eyes at his playfulness and reach one hand to his between your bodies, and lightly trace the rugged scarring littering the rough hand.

“I know you’re kind of joking … but I really am sorry I didn’t answer. I know that it really makes you worry.” You say, tiredly. Jason sighs and brings a hand up to pet your hair, placing it on the crown of your head and pushing your face towards his own for another kiss. “Just… try not to do it again. Please.” He huffs, stroking your cheek with the hand he trailed down from your hair to face. You snuggle closer to him and reach behind you onto the bedside table, blindly searching for your remote . Upon finding it, you shut off your lamp and set it behind you once more, cuddling into Jason’s broad chest once darkness settles over the two of you.

“I love you, Jay.”

“I love you too,” He says, kissing your forehead. “Now please , go to sleep. You’ll do fine on that exam.”

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vietcrepes · 1 year ago

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◡ ✶ SCHOLARS IN SESSION!

study date headcanons with the sbg kids

◡ ✶ notice board: gn!reader as always, not proof read, established relationship, food mentioned in taylor's part, might be ooc

୨୧ ASHLYN BANNER

she doesn't really care for studying, between phantoms and ballet, studies are one of her last priorities. she'll do the very bare minimum to pass and make good score, but making time out of the day to study more? she'll respectfully pass. there are other ways she'd rather spend time with you, like curled up in bed, or teaching you how to dance.

it's not until it gets to exams that she decides a study date won't be bad, and if it's just the two of you it'll be peaceful. now, studying might not be her favorite thing, but when she studies she's focused, just as she would be in anything else.

you were in ashlyn's living room, her parents providing with plenty of snacks as she listened to music through her headphones. you? absolutely bored out of your mind. you had to analyze this poem and it was your least favorite thing to do in the world. ashlyn felt eyes boring into her head, and met eyes with you. with a sigh, ashlyn moved over to be closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and continuing with her work. "you're the one who wanted to study, at least focus for a bit"

◡ ☆ click to read the rest!

୨୧ AIDEN CLARK

the one time you manage to sit him down to have one of those cute pinterest study dates is the day society reaches its peak

he'll probably be pacing around, playing on his phone, and maybe doing a problem here or there. he's struggling on a problem? he was simply destined to not know the answer. don't take this the wrong way though, he's a brilliant student, really!! once he sees you struggling he'll be explaining the problem flawlessly, like he was the teacher of the class himself

"babe" aiden dragged out, on his phone as he draped his body on top of yours, "we've been here forever, let's go to the arcade" your features softened at the sight of aiden, but you had to stay stubborn. "no, it's only been 15 minutes hun, I need to finish this assignment." you were stuck on the math behind this particular chemistry problem, and it was driving you insane. "oh, you just have to convert the units to moles so you can cancel out the units in the next step" he said, looking up from his phone. "wait what-" you said, realizing he was right. he only beamed, once again asking if you two could go to the arcade. with a sigh, you gave in. after all, who could deny what aiden clark wanted?

୨୧ BEN CLARK

he tries his best to focus, but ultimately he ends up taking a nap halfway through the study date. the combination of schoolwork, classical/lofi music, and the soft sun worked in harmony to have ben doze off. if you play with his hands or hair it'll be the final thing that sends him to sleep. no matter how many times it happens you just can't bring yourself to wake him up

you scribbled in your notebook, listening intently to the history video playing on your laptop. after all, you had a written paper coming up that you needed to study for. your hand was intertwined with Ben's, the both of you sitting at the Clark's kitchen island as you could hear aiden playing video games upstairs. your fingers were intertwined with his, rubbing circles on his hand absentmindedly as your brows furrowed in focus. feeling ben's hand go limp in yours, you glanced over. he was fast asleep, blissfully undisturbed by your upcoming exams. you smiled, and tangled your hand in his hair as you decided against waking him up.

୨୧ TYLER HERNANDEZ

no matter how exhausted he is, he'll always find time for studying. he's driven and knows what he needs to do to achieve his goals, but his priorities can skew, especially after the savannah trip. he unfortunately has other worries, namely you, taylor, and whatever the hell goes on at midnight

it's you who reminds him to refocus on baseball and his studies, and once he does it's like he never lost his focus in the first place. he doesn't like studying for more than 4 hours a day, and usually only studies for around 3. no matter how long he's studying though, one things for certain, he'll always be touching you, whether it be a hand on a thigh or holding hands

tyler stifled a yawn, finishing up his annotations for this english passage as he got ready to write an analysis on the language use. the two of you were on his bunk, you researching for a presentation for another class. your head was rested on his shoulder, rambling on about how one of your group mates simply refused to do their part for the project. he listened intently, chiming in with the occasional "what an asshole" or even a "snitch on them." when your tangent was done, you went back to a comfortable silence with you typing away and tyler slouched over, writing away.

୨୧ TAYLOR HERNANDEZ

taylor is the perfect study date, point blank period. she's just as driven and zoned in as her brother but she's light hearted and doesn't make studying feel like a chore. she'll bring plenty of snacks and ask plenty of questions

while her questions are greatly appreciated, they can tend to stray off topic from your studies. in fact, most of the time they result in you two talking about issues entirely unrelated. before you knew it, piles of unfinished homework was before you and two hours had been spent talking.

taylor spun her pencil around, doodling on her science worksheet as she laid down on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air. she had finished a good portion of her work, but she had kept the hardest subjects for last. you were taking a break, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as a much-needed refresher. taylor, now uninterested in working, propped her chin up with her hand as she asked, "want to look at my welding projects?" upon hearing your laughter, she quickly sat up, "it'll be a nice break! we'll still study afterwards!" she defended, steadfast in her beliefs. you gave in, and an hour later you weren't even focused on welding, but rather something else entirely.

୨୧ LOGAN FIELDS

i feel like logan prefers studying the subjects he's good at on his own — he'll get into the flow of the equations and rules of the world that he'll be in his own little bubble.

of course, you are the exception to this. he loves doing anything if it's with you. he's willing to help you but you try not to rely on him too much, you won't be able to retain the information if you don't struggle through yourself after all. despite this, he'll go out of his way and help you if he sees you stuck on the same problem after too much time

logan glanced over at you, chewing on your bottom lip as you furrowed your eyebrows at the paper. he smiled, placing a hand on your back as he leaned in. he smelled flowery, an obvious side effect of working at the flower shop. you leaned on his shoulder, complaining about the problem and the class. "it's simple, you just need to look at it from another angle." he said, picking up your pencil before explaining in detail

writers note: it's my biggest fear... headcanons. this is just something indulgent and short n sweet 🙂‍↕️ ashlyns feels so ooc and poorly written I am so sorry ashlyn lovers.

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mjayde187 · 14 days ago

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IDW Soundwave

Soundwave x Reader

Summary: you bought a cassette player from a thrift store completely normal, what could go wrong

Words: 843

Part 2

[Portland, Oregon]

You breathed heavily, bending over to catch your breath while the music continued to play in your ears. Catching your breath, you continued running as the music played through your headphones from the cassette player.

Throughout the two weeks, you prepared yourself for the exam, both physically and intellectually. In the morning, you would spend jogging around the farm, and then during the night, you would spend studying online.

Finishing up your run, you jogged up the wooden steps into the house. You breathe heavily as you climb the stairs to your bathroom, removing your headphones and turning on the water. As the water heats up, you unplug the headphones from the cassette player, allowing the music to play out loud. Walking out of the shower and getting dressed, you turn off the cassette player and continue on your day.

Throughout the time you had purchased the cassette player, you kept it everywhere you went. It's almost become part of your daily life now, but it never needs to be charged or have its battery changed.

The following night, with your headphones plugged into the cassette player, you listen to music as you study at your desk. You write notes to memorize everything you might need, primarily for high school education. Then, the cassette player starts to turn into static and glitch. She quickly drops her pen and takes off the headphones. "What the…" you grunted, looking at the cassette player.

You stare at the player before turning it off and unplugging the headphones. It's silent for a moment before starting back up again. Your ears are confused; pick it up and hear almost a voice in the mess of static and glitches. "Ssssttzzzz— sssouzz sound tttt— wave zzzz sssttzz cord ttt- do ssssstuuuu readdd—" then it cuts out leaving you confused. "The heck.." you muttered before nearly almost dropping the thing.

"Life form detect: human female"

A robotic voice says, coming from the cassette player. He looked even more confident and carefully placed it back, backing away from it until it seemed to turn off. Standing there for a moment, unsure what to do in this situation, you carefully pick up the cassette player and set it down on your bottom self. You back away again, staring at it before going back to her desk.

You close your laptop and put your notebook away. You sigh, rumbling your head, trying not to think too much about it since your exams are tomorrow. You sit down on a bean bag chair in front of a TV, grab a controller, and start playing video games. Having your headphones on, you don't notice a soft frequency beginning to come from the cassette player.

——————

[next day]

A pickup truck pulls up next to the side of a building. The driver parks the car and turns to look at the passenger. "Ya sure about this?" The elderly driver says. "I'm sure grandpa. Please just don't tell or mention this to Grandma. She might have a heart attack." you asked, and your grandfather nodded his head to you. "You, my word. Good luck? Love ya." He smiles before you get off the truck, smiling back to you. "Love ya too."

Closing the car door and fixing your backpack strap, you walk through the building and see a few other people there as well. You walk up to the desk, handing the person papers and documents. "Just head into that room and start your paper exam. Leave your belongings up here and come back from them once you finish." you nodded and placed your bag onto the desk, being extra careful, knowing your cassette player was in there.

Walking into the room, you sit down at a desk and wait for further instructions. People walk into the room, sit down at the desk, and an instructor starts to pass out papers. Once all the papers are distributed, the exam begins.

Finishing up, you leave the room, handing your exam to the front desk and getting back your bag. "Just head outside, and you'll start your physical exam."

You take a breath and head outside the building, seeing two instructors waiting. You sat your bag down, took out the cassette player, gently put on the headphones, and pressed the play button.

[after the exams]

You look like you're leaving, walking back home with headphones on and a cassette player playing the music. The misty air and scent of pine clear your head, letting your worries drift away when your results arrive. Getting your grandparent's small farmland area surrounded by trees, she walks to the shed.

Opening the wooden door and walking inside, you set your bag down on the workbench and sit down for a while. Placing the cassette player in front of you, you begin to examine it. "Okay, so what's going on with you… I could've sworn I cleaned you up.. hmm maybe…" you muttered to herself, looking around the object to see if maybe something was broken and if it was just that old.

˜"*°•.˜"*°• •°*"˜.•°*"˜

(okay so I'm thinking about going back to editing that first post because I didn't think it was gonna that much attention so yea also I decided to change it to a second point of view)

#transformers x reader #soundwave x reader #transformers idw #transformers x human

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 year ago

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Part 2 - Work Introductions

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Mentions of child loss, mentions of medical neglect/abuse, mentions of reproductive abuse, mentions of pregnancy complications and death, mentions of racism, sexism (in an omegaverse way), Brandon (unfortunately living), real world references

Data entry and analysis isn’t the most exciting job in the world, no matter what kind of fancy title you’re given, but it pays the bills. Working on a military base isn’t ideal, but the benefits are nothing to sneeze at. And most days, you get to sit alone and uninterrupted, in your own office, instead of in a cramped cubicle.

On Tuesday, you’re startled out of your audiobook by a gentle knock on your desk. Sherry, your immediate superior, gives an awkward little wave and waits for you to finish your line and mute your music.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about this,” she says, as soon as your headphones are clear. “You remember those port reports from Honduras? Some of the senior analysts have some questions for you? They’re currently in a meeting and requested some clarification…?”

You wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. “…what do they want to know?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell me, I’m sorry,” Sherry says. “They asked if you could… Well, they need you to attend the meeting. Right now.”

“Do I even have the clearance for that kind of meeting?” You stand without waiting for an answer and disconnect your laptop from the dock. With it tucked under your arm, you grab a notebook and pen, as well as your water bottle.

Sherry leads the way out of the office. “I know you submitted these reports two weeks ago, and your notations are excellent. I think the problem is with one of the flagged ship manifests, but they wouldn’t clarify why they were concerned. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Her apologetic air suddenly makes sense. “Brandon’s in there, isn’t he?”

Sherry grimaces. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s him and a few alphas. There’s an American CIA agent as well.”

“So I absolutely don’t have the clearance for this meeting,” you sigh. “Great.”

A short elevator ride and two halls away, you take a fortifying breath before you step into an occupied meeting room. Brandon’s is the first face you see, and when he sees you the corners of his lips turn up in an infuriating smile. Next to him, another senior analyst’s eyebrows pop up, but Andrew actually looks happy to see you.

Before the door can close behind you, a blonde, American alpha stands and offers her hand in a no-nonsense shake. “Kate Laswell. We appreciate you being so prompt.”

“Of course,” you answer. Unfortunately, your attention is a little torn. All four members of the 141 are sitting at the table, looking at you curiously. Sergent MacTavish grins like a wolf. Captain Price tips his chin up just enough that you know he’s scenting you. Lieutenant Riley, face covered from the nose down in a black neck gaiter, gives you a quick once over that makes you want to shiver. But you’re a professional, so instead of fleeing you take the nearest seat, across from a smiling Sergent Garrick. You fold both of your hands on top of the table, the very picture of accommodating and helpful, “What can I assist you with?”

“Why’d you flag this shipping manifest,” Brandon asks. The projector at the front of the room switches to a document that would be barely legible, even without the distortion of zoom.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him, flipping your laptop open. “What’s the file name?”

“Honduras,” Brandon says, Port Cortez.”

“Puerto Cortes,” you correct. And seeing as it’s the largest seaport in Central America, I’ve combed through literally hundreds of manifests, you think, but don’t say. “I’m going to have to ask you to be a bit more specific. The projector isn’t easy to read.”

“You flagged this manifest for a Korean ship.”

You jump when Sergent Garrick says, “Christ, mate, just give her the file name.”

Lieutenant Riley gives a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. You think you see MacTavish still grinning at you out of the corner of your eye. Laswell rattles off the document name without looking.

As soon as the document loads, you know exactly why Brandon and Andrew are confused. And you know that the following conversation is going to be so unpleasant that you shoot off a quick email to take the rest of the day off once this meeting ends.

You take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “The manifest is inconsistent with previous patterns from that particular port and that particular captain and crew. As I noted, the four containers from Venusian Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have made it on the ship do to political and economic pressures.”

Brandon doesn’t bother to look at you when he asks, “What pressures?”

Laswell interjects before you can answer, “Leaked internal communications provided evidence that Cloudstone Pharm was selling tampered heat suppressants and birth control in various black markets. The 4B movement in South Korea had been calling for an investigation for years by that point. A lot of omegas were killed because of mis-labeled medications. Pregnancy and birth related complications.”

“I remember that. It was, what, five, more years ago?” Lieutenant Riley asks. “Had an entire re-brand. Cloudstone to Venusian. Everything went from blues and whites to greens and yellows.”

“Okay, so the containers had a bit of extra security to get onto the ship,” Brandon says, before you can get over the shock of two alphas in a room who know anything about even the broad strokes of omega health care. “There’s protesters at every major port for one thing or another.”

“Even if they’d gotten on the ship, they wouldn’t have made it to Puerto Cortes,” you counter. “The captain lost two of his kids because of their medications. He’s had his crew dump the containers and alter manifests before. He was investigated for it, but his crew wouldn’t speak against him.”

Brandon frowns. “How do we know he didn’t get paid off?”

How do we know the omegas weren’t worth less than a cash payment? Your throat feels like closing in on itself. You keep your voice as steady as you can. “He wouldn’t have been.”

“How do you know?”

Andrew, eyes darting between you and Brandon, tries to interrupt. “Well-”

“Because he made the autopsy reports for both of his sons public,” you answer. You have to force your jaw to unclench. “Along with pictures and videos of how sick they were before they passed, before anyone knew what was really wrong with them. And the executives of Cloudstone, an American company, laughed. Called them slurs and ignorant animals in emails and meeting memos that were later leaked to the public.”

Across from you, Garrick is not smiling anymore. “That’s… disgusting.”

“Cloudstone struggled to recover in eastern Asian markets, even with the re-brand,” you continue, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And all of this was in my report.”

“Your job isn’t to provide those kinds of references. You’re not trained for it. There were a couple of links to articles,” Brandon dismisses. “Not enough to-”

“One of his sons experienced total organ failure,” you interrupt, closing your laptop. You know your scent must be all over the place, but the subject matter was already touchy. Now he’s questioning your work and misrepresenting your job duties? Oh, fuck him. “Because he was on incorrectly administered fertility treatments that were disguised as birth control, he had a high-risk pregnancy with multiples. And then his medications were switched with heat inducers. His other son had rapid onset neuropathy and multiple strokes within a week. Neither of his sons wanted to have children. One of them couldn’t, biologically, because it would have killed him anyways. And their partners decided that they didn’t care.”

Brandon wrinkles his nose at you. “No need to get so worked up.”

You practically feel the way your scent goes hot and acrid. Where most omegas have a distress scent that is sickly sweet, yours is much closer to an alpha’s shock scent. Your parents used to call you “Wildfire” because of it. You watch the hairs on Garrik’s arms stand up.

You can barely smell Andrew’s nervous distress over your rage. “Okay, yeah, that’s plenty. The captain wouldn’t have taken the containers.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t consult the references I added into the report?” You know the sudden calm in your voice, the relaxing of your posture, is at odds with the way your anger scent gets stronger. You’ve been told it’s a sensory nightmare, so you only do it when someone tells you you’re not calm enough. You fold your hands on the table again. “Because I included original and translated sources, according to the standards of the department.”

The room is silent. All seven alphas are agitated. You can only pick out MacTavish’s scent, muddled and frustrated. Andrew opens his mouth, closes it. Finally says, “I didn’t receive the references.”

“Senior analyst Lawrence received the full report directly,” you say, holding eye contact with Brandon. “But I know how emails can get lost. I would be happy to send them again. I’ll CC you, and request that your access to the full drive be confirmed. Sir. Is there anything else I can assist the team with?”

Laswell scrawls something on a sticky note and passes it over to you. “Please also include me on those emails.”

You give her your most demure smile. “Unfortunately, Agent Laswell, I don’t have the clearance to send reports outside of the department. I would be happy to help you coordinate that with senior analysts Lawrence and Bennett.”

You pluck the sticky note from her hand, stand, and gather up your laptop, notebook, and water bottle. When you have everything, you pass behind her to where Brandon and Andrew are sitting. Deliberately putting yourself at Brandon’s back, you hand the note to Andrew with a placid smile. “Agent Laswell requests that you provide her with the full report.”

Brandon smells disconcerted, trapped in his seat with your scent roaring as you stand just inside of his blind spot. Andrew, for his part, only hesitates for a moment before taking the offered sticky note, looking from you to Laswell to Brandon and back. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“I… believe that will be all…?”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” You cement your little performance with a perfectly deferential partial curtsy to Andrew, then to the rest of the room. “Please do not hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else I can do the support the team.”

As the door shuts behind you, you hear Captain Price’s voice for the first time. “Goddamn. That is a woman capable of murder.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #there's some meta to come #just a heads up

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brights-place · 2 months ago

Note

if you are still doing spiderman can you do a miles morales 1610 x a reader who’s a singer (billie eilish coded) do whatever you want with the plot I just wanna see this written

[ITSV] Miles 1610! & Singer! Reader Warnings: None A/N: This one was fun to write so I hope you enjoy this half assed writing of headcannons

Summary: Miles morales 1610 x a reader who’s a singer

- You as a singer have a haunting, ethereal voice and a dark, edgy aesthetic think oversized clothes, melancholic lyrics, and killer eyeliner.

- Miles was instantly intrigued when he first saw you perform at a community event. The atmosphere, the emotion in your voice it left him stunned.

- He's a little intimidated by your cool, mysterious vibe at first - He actually meets you after accidentally webbing into a fire escape near your apartment during patrol. He tries to play it cool, but ends up awkwardly fumbling. - You were sitting on the fire escape with headphones in and sketching lyrics in a notebook, just raises an eyebrow and says, “You good, Spider-Boy?” He’s both embarrassed and smitten.

- when your fame was starting to rise, and with it comes pressure managers, image expectations, nonstop rehearsals. Miles is their escape from that. - In turn, Your one of the few people who gets to see the real Miles, not just Spider-Man. - Late-night phone calls turn into jam sessions You singing softly over Miles’ beatboxing or him messing with sound loops on his laptop.

- He calls your voice “magic,” and you call his sketches “stories waiting to be drawn.” - Miles takes candid photos of you when your in element singing in a hoodie under neon lights, scribbling lyrics while curled up in bed, laughing over tacos.

- You keeps one of his doodles in your lyric journal a little cartoon version of you singing while Miles listens with heart eyes.

- Miles doesn’t get jealous easily, but when you have to do a moody duet with another artist, he definitely watches the performance twice... just to "analyze it."

- You see right through him and tease him for him “You want me to write you a diss track?” - But when Miles struggles with the weight of being Spider-Man, You always reminds him, “You carry the city on your back, and I carry you.”

-You eventually finds out about his secret identity after a close call. You patch him up and say, “I’ve written songs about heartbreak, but this? This is real.”

- You write a whole track inspired by him, filled with metaphors and coded lines about shadows, swinging through doubt, and loving a ghost.

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xoxoaugust · 5 months ago

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look both ways (when you cross my mind)

pt 2. of See You Again

in which: After meeting again, Sae can't stop thinking about you. Wondering if you look both ways when you cross his mind.

an: guys i'm giggling

wc: 1.7k

That night, Sae stayed up for a bit staring at the messages you had exchanged. He couldn't stop thinking about you. You had changed, but your essence lingered like washed out cologne. You were still kind, but guarded; still humble, but confident. You seemed happy, at peace, without him in your life. That's what he thought, but he couldn't be more wrong. Sure, you were happy and at peace, but he would never know about the late nights, wistful dreams plaguing your mind like a disease spreading throughout the corners of your brain. He'd never know the guilt you felt after scolding him so mercilessly, and you'd never know that he'd forgiven you ages ago.

You were both just fools, fools whose biggest weakness would be communication, just longing for each other endlessly.

You stared at the ceiling of your half decorated apartment. By half decorated, you meant nearly empty. Aside from the necessary furniture and appliances, you had maybe a few pictures of friends and family on your walls. You glanced at the photo of you and Rin at his high school graduation , the one Sae wasn't there for.

Part of you resented Sae, the way he treated Rin after Spain was uncalled for. But part of you could never even attempt to hate him. Maybe you resented him to protect yourself, protecting your heart from the only person you'd ever give it to. Not wanting to be left like scraps, you shut off any and all communication.

The morning after, you woke up with a throbbing headache. Thinking too hard about the last couple days. You got up and got the day started with the little cafe just down the block. You walked with your shoulder bag full of your notebooks, your laptop, your pens and pencils, and headphones nestled comfortably on your head.

Walking in, you greet the little old lady who owned the cafe, and the girl around your age who worked there. You had befriended her after finding out she went to the same university as you. Her name was Rumi, she was a kind, and pretty girl with a longing to be a fashion designer.

"[Name]! It's nice to see you again! The usual?"

You stared at the menu, before looking back at her.

"Can I have my regular matcha, but can I have a smoothie bowl instead? You can pick the flavor, I trust you". You beamed.

She rung you up and handed you the matcha before running off the make your bowl.

As you sat down at your table, you thought about Sae. Would he come to see if you were here? Or would he just not bother?

"This is about that guy, right?" Rumi smiled playfully.

You looked up at her, meeting her eyes as she sat down in front of you.

"Yeah, he's cute, I could tell he was into you. He's not my type but you and him, my god a match made in heaven." She sighed charmingly.

"I don't like him, he's just and old neighbor of mine that happened to be here, no big deal." You said trying to cover the heat crawling up to your face.

Rumi looked at you like you had grown another head.

"Are you kidding me? [Name] , that boy is so in love with you. I've seen him around so many times, he always justs gets his drink and meal then sits at the corner table for like five minutes and then leaves. He doesn't talk to anyone, and he hasn't until you showed up."

You couldn't help the childish upturn of the corners of your mouth. You had spent so much of your childhood longing for Sae to reciprocate the puppy love feelings you had, but it never happened. Now, these feelings left a sickeningly bittersweet memory to relive in your mind.

You zoned out until the bell on the door rang. The person walked into the shop quietly, it was none other than Sae Itoshi.

Rumi looked at you smugly before getting up to take his order.

He ordered his regular unsweetened matcha and a fruit bowl. He walks over to where he usually sits, internally giving himself a high five because he was counting on you being there. Instead of sitting at the table next to it, he sat down right in front of you.

You looked up, baffled. You couldn’t tell if you were excited, or appalled at his audacity. Probably both if you’re being honest.

“Hi Sae, is there something you need or…?”

He simply took a sip of his drink before meeting your gaze and replying.

“I just wanted to sit here, if it’s bothering you I can move.” Said blankly, most likely in good faith but his tone wasn’t helping.

You smiled to yourself, same old Sae.

“You can sit here, just don’t be annoying.” You said, sarcastically.

You two sat in comfortable silence for maybe half an hour, before you broke the silence.

“How have you been? Haven’t heard from you in quite some time.”

He looked up, and you couldn’t help but think about how freaking cute he still is.

“We saw each other like yesterday, I’m the same as I was I guess.”

You sigh, he’s still painfully oblivious, and socially inept.

“You know that’s not what I meant, how has Spain treated you so far? Anything I should look out for?”

You asked even though you had already been here before, you just needed conversation starters.

He paused to think. He knew that your question was most likely hand in hand by how he acted towards you and Rin when he went back to Japan for the first time.

“Not really, it’s pretty nice here. It does make you pretty homesick though.”

Well that caught your attention.

“Did you get homesick after coming here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity.

“I did, it was bad for a while. I missed you and Rin, I missed my parents. I missed the food too, eventually it stopped.”

You felt a pit in your stomach, it must’ve been so hard to be in a whole different country by yourself at the age of 13. You felt your heart soften.

“You could’ve called me y’know, Rin and I would’ve dropped everything just to talk to you more often.”

“I did call”

“Yeah maybe twice!” You laughed.

God that laugh, he could never get enough of it. He missed your smile the most, of course he missed your company, but he could stare at that smile for hours and never get tired of it.

“We should stay in touch.” You proposed, hopefully might I add.

“We have each other’s numbers right?” He said monotonously.

“I mean like hang out, like we used to.” You said softly.

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

You looked at your watch. “Right now?”

Sae looked confused.

“Yeah, I don’t have practice tonight, we can go somewhere if you’d like.”

You thought about it, it had been maybe a year and a half since you’ve been to Spain. You managed to get a scholarship, but you never told Sae about it. Maybe the place has changed a lot since you left.

“You should give a tour, like what’s new here?”

He nodded before getting up to help you pack your things. Ever so the gentleman.

You grabbed your matcha before glancing back at Rumi, who was giggling and mouthing ‘I told you so’.

As you walked around the area Sae brought you to, you could help but feel nostalgic. I mean taking away the fact that Rin wasn’t here, you felt like the young girl would walk around with Sae all the time.

He would point out his favorite places in the small shopping center. His favorite bookstore, favorite restaurants, favorite clothing stores that he would go to maybe every 6 months. You were listening, partially. You kept looking at him, probably with heart eyes.

You finally settled near the park, until, you felt a drop of water hit your arm.

It was raining, and the downpour was picking up.

Sae grabbed your arm and pulled you to the nearest shade.

“My place is around here, if you’re okay with it we can head over there and wait until the rain slows down.”

You nodded and he grabbed your hand before dashing towards the building. You felt the heat creep up to your face before the two of you slowed down to enter the lobby.

He grabbed his keycard and scanned the elevator lock, walking inside with your hand still in his. When you got situated into the elevator, you let go of his hand, trying to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms.

He glanced over at you once before removing his jacket and offering it to you by holding it out in your direction.

"Sae I appreciate it but i'm okay, you don't need to give me your jacket." You smiled, still shivering.

"I want to, we're about to get there anyways, wear it until we get there so you don't feel cold."

You hesitantly took his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

He kept glancing over to see you wearing his jacket, god he thought you looked adorable.

The elevator dinged and you walked out of the elevator, still wearing his jacket. He guided you to the massive door and opened it with his card. You couldn't believe your eyes, his penthouse was actually huge. It was so Sae, clean and tidy, everything was in it's place, though it felt lonely, there was a warm feeling about it. You took off his jacket and placed it on the coat hanger right next to the door before exploring the main area.

"Sae you cannot be serious right now. Who needs a bar in their house? Do you even drink?"

"Not really, there's coffee machines too if you want some."

You rolled your eyes so loudly.

The main room was beautiful, clean cream colored leather couches with red and maroon decorative pillows placed neatly in each corner, glass coffee tables and a fireplace. It was the typical millionaire side residence.

"Do you want something to drink? We have two hours to kill."

Your eyes bulged out of your head. TWO HOURS?!

"Uh i'll have anything, I don't mind."

He nodded before getting to work. You couldn't lie, he looked really good right now. His athletic long sleeve shirt pushed up to his forearms and his hair slightly damp.

As good as he looked, you did not know what to do, how were you going to stay here for two whole hours? You prayed there was a merciful god to strike you down this instant.

xoxo, august

an: sorry this feels so rushed, but I want to turn this into a series. I really like the idea of each Tyler lyric being a new chapter, so stay tuned !

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #bllk sae #sae x reader #sae itoshi #sae #rin #rin itoshi

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thehandmaidenofcreativity · 1 year ago

Text

The Man Who Talks to Himself and the Girl Who Listens

WC: 6.7k

Rating: 18+, fluff to smut

Comments: idol!Seungmin and female reader. This is my first fic.. hope you like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

•

“That doesn’t even make sense…”

You wouldn’t have heard him if the song hadn’t just ended. For whatever reason, that little bit of muttering caught your interest. You hit pause before the next tune can fill your ears. He’s sitting just behind you. You’re tempted to sneak a peek at what he’s doing. You’re sure he came in alone, so it seems he’s talking to himself.

“Then again, confusion is a higher sense of consciousness...” He trails off.

What a brilliant way of thinking, you muse. He goes on outlining a plan of some sort, maybe for a novel or a play; it’s captivating. Unfortunately, he would stop thinking out loud at some points, but no matter how long the pause, you couldn’t turn your music back on and miss any of his magic. Because that’s what it felt like: magic. He was filling you with such wonder; you could burst.

After a while, he gets a phone call, though, and the show comes to an end. You hear him packing up his things; you watch him stride out of the cafe. Silly as it is, considering you don’t see his face, you think he looks handsome - tall, with broad shoulders and a pretty shade of reddish hair poking out from beneath a baseball cap.

The next day, you decide to return to the cafe. You tell yourself that it’s just a nice, low-key place to get work done and enjoy a few cups of tea, but in the back of your mind, you’re hoping the man will be there again. You arrive half an hour earlier than yesterday and sit at the same table, sipping on blueberry tea with your headphones in, laptop in front of you. Fifteen minutes in, you hear the bell on the door jingle. You try for nonchalance as you glance at the entrance. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him the day before, but you’re sure it’s the same man. To your delight, he brings his things to the table behind you before going to the counter. Despite the mask, you can tell your initial assessment was correct - he’s handsome. He has his hood up rather than a hat today, so you still don’t get the full effect of his hair, just see the slight waves of his bangs covering his forehead. His eyes are quite dark, but nice, and slightly downturned, reminding you of something or someone that you can’t place. How can someone look so good when most of their face is covered?

For the next few hours, you sit transfixed by the man, at times sitting stagnant just listening to him, your own work forgotten. Eventually, you both have to leave, but before you do, you stop by the barista. “Hey, this may be a weird question,” you try to sound as casual as possible. “But does that guy who was at the table behind me come in here often?”

“Yeah, he’s been in here most weekdays,” the girl responded. “But he probably has classes or something on Monday and Wednesday, cause I don’t usually see him then.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Odd as it feels, kind of stalking this man, you continue coming back to the cafe over the next couple weeks, only skipping those days when you’re sure that he won’t be there. At times, you even jot down questions that you’d want to ask him if you could, but you never speak to him. You always sit with your back to him, headphones in, pretending not to listen.

At the end of the week, he gets a phone call. As he heads outside to take it, you hear him say that he’ll be back on the road in about a week and feel a surge of panic for some reason. You realize that you can’t just be the girl who listens anymore.

You flip to the document that holds your questions for him and grab a notebook out of your bag. You quickly jot down the two most recent ones, furtively glancing at the door to check that he’s still on the phone. You can’t decide if you should write your email or your number; you almost can’t believe you’re doing this at all. You add to the top of the page “confusion may be a higher sense of consciousness, but I’m so curious” and write your email to the bottom. One more look at the door tells you that now’s your chance; you quickly set the note in front of his coffee.

While you were somehow brave enough to leave the note, you're certainly not brave enough to hear him read it. You hurriedly collect your things and head for the door. His call must’ve just ended; he opens the door and holds it, nodding at you. You hope your blush isn’t obvious, but even if it is, he must get that all the time. He’d left his mask off when he went outside. He is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever not-actually met. He has a strong, straight nose, and his face is oval shaped - a good mix of masculine and boyish. You kind of hate that he’s giving you that obviously fake, pursed, polite smile instead of a real one, but why wouldn’t he; you’re giving him the same one.

The next night when the notification sounds, you don’t think much of it. You almost decide not to check your email before bed, but something is nudging at the back of your mind. You click into it and see the subject line: Allow me to bring some clarity. You’re a little stunned that he actually wrote you, because it had to be him; who else would it be?

His answers are short, a little cryptic. But he told you that he’s writing music. You have the smallest insight into his head, and you love it. What you aren’t sure about is how you feel about the fact that he clearly knows who you are. Well. Maybe not clearly. He guessed that you’re you, another regular, or the waitress. He also wanted to know if you have more questions. He signed off as ‘Thinking Out Loud’ rather than giving his name. You wonder if you should avoid showing just how long you’ve been stalking him, but you are curious. It’s time to go big or go home. You thank him for his email and copy over the rest of your ‘Questions and Thoughts’ doc. You also consider fessing up, telling him who you are. But you could be mysterious, too. Ultimately, you sign off as ‘the Listener.’

The night passes, then the next day. It’s Monday, so you don’t go to the cafe. The anticipation is killing you. You decide that if he doesn’t respond before the night is over, you just won’t go back. Maybe that’s cowardly, but it would be mortifying. He’d obviously been freaked out by how long you’ve been listening to him. So much for that hobby and unraveling the mystery of Mr. Thinking Out Loud.

The next morning, you see that you received an email around 4 am. He had replied after all. He didn’t answer any questions, though. It simply read: Same time at the cafe today? Smiling like a fool, you get ready for the day and try not to freak out about the invitation. It was an invitation, wasn’t it? You take a little extra care with your appearance - applying a subtle lip stain, a little eyeliner, and mascara.

As usual, you arrive before him. You go back and forth about sitting at ‘your’ table or his. It is possible that he hadn’t been inviting you to truly interact with him. You sit at your own table and somehow manage to focus on your work for a while. You figure you have a bit of time before he arrives, so you head to the restroom. As you’re walking back toward your table, you freeze.

The guy.

He’s sitting there.

At your table.

The seat across from yours.

You force yourself to move. He looks up as you draw near and offers you a small, welcoming smile. And you’d thought he couldn’t get any cuter. You sit as the waitress stops by to drop off his coffee and a fresh tea for you. She winks at you as she walks away.

“I hope you don’t mind; I hear you like the blueberry.” He smiles again and wow. It’s incredible. He extends his hand. “My listener, I presume?”

“You caught me,” you laugh awkwardly, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry if it was weird of me. You just seem so… interesting.”

There’s no way he doesn’t see your blush this time. The corner of his mouth quirks back up. Then he just takes a sip of his coffee and starts talking. You don’t even need to put your headphones on, because this time, he’s talking to you.

•

You both stay longer than usual. Two more rounds of drinks and a couple shared pastries later, you learn that he’s a musician and trying to write a connected story within an album, something he’s never done on his own before. He also, ears reddening, admits to not realizing he talks quite so much while he’s working. He answers your questions, even asks for your feedback and compliments you on your insights. You’ve always loved watching people talk about their passions, and today is no different. He lights up when he talks, practically glowing. If you thought his first smile was nice, then this full, joyful smile is fantastic. And when he laughs? It makes your heart flutter. He’s beautiful.

All too soon, he says that he needs to head out to his next schedule. You finally notice the time, and while you know you should leave, too, you’re sad that this is over. “Same time on Thursday?” you ask meekly.

He smiles at you. You try not to hold your breath. “Sounds good.” He gathers the last of his things, stands to leave, and gives a small wave. “It was great talking to you, Listener.”

You almost tell him your name or ask his, but he’s already walking away.

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re nearly vibrating with excitement. How can one coffee date, if you can even call it that, get you so eager to meet with a man you barely know? Though in a way you’ve been getting to know him for a while, indirectly. Plus, music can be a very personal expression of one’s self, and that’s clearly his intention considering your first conversation. Two and a half hours before it’s time to leave, however, your light dims.

The subject line of the email reads: ‘Scheduling Conflict.’ He addresses it to ‘My Listener.” My listener. You’re beaming and feel incredibly silly about it. Your smile falls again, though, as you read the rest of the email. He lets you know that he won’t be at the cafe today, and he didn’t want you to show up and think he stood you up. He thinks that he’ll be able to meet you tomorrow, but will let you know if things change. Things at work are picking up for him, it seems. You try not to be too disappointed and resolve to be much more chill about the situation tomorrow; it’s literally just coffee with an attractive man who seems very intelligent and kind. Right.

So with take two on Friday, you stay busy and try not to think too much about him. Still, you can’t help being excited; you practically bounce into the cafe. He’s not here yet, but he didn’t email today, so you’re optimistic. Despite already brimming with nervous energy, you decide to have a latte today. You settle in with it at your table when the bell on the door rings. He’s sporting a black bucket hat today; it’s a great look.

“Coffee today, huh?” He takes his mask off as he sits, offering that brilliant smile. “What’s your order?”

“Oh, it’s a blonde, breve vanilla latte,” you smile back but notice that he doesn’t have his customary bag of writing materials. Your smile fades a little.

He grimaces a bit. “Sounds too sweet and milky.” He signals to the waitress and she brings him his customary americano without him even needing to order it. “So there’s been a little change in plan again today. I can’t stay too long, but I didn’t want to cancel on you again.”

It’s sweet that he made time for you, but you are disappointed. You remember overhearing him saying he’d be on the road next week, so who knows how long it'll be before you might see him again. If you’ll see him again at all. But you said you’d be chill today, so chill you will be! You talk more about the concept of his album, asking and answering questions and offering suggestions and compliments. All too soon, your cups are empty.

He checks his phone and gives a wry smile. “I need to head out… See you around.” As he stands and moves to leave, he looks back at you thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be interested in getting a drink with me tonight, would you?”

You hope your smile isn’t too wide. “I’d love to, do you have somewhere in mind?”

He jots down an address and his number on the back of his receipt. “Great. I’ll see you at 9? Just call me when you get there, I’ll meet you out front.” He gives you one last smile before he puts on his mask and heads for the door. Across the bottom of the slip, he’d also written his name. Seungmin.

•

You consider trying to look him up before your date. It is a date this time for sure, right? You hadn’t told any friends about him yet, ‘cause you still felt a little like a stalker, but you need help. When Hana arrives at your apartment, you immediately spill the entire story.

“You never took any pictures of him?” She laughs. “What kind of third-rate stalker are you?”

“Hey! I tried my best not to be creepy… or any creepier than I was already being.” You get out two tops and a dress. “Okay, so I don’t wanna seem like I’m trying too hard, but I wanna look good. What do you think?”

She considers your options. “I’d go with the lilac. It gives you a decent amount of cleavage without being too slutty. What bottoms are you thinking?”

You pull out a pair of dark wash jeggings and black wide-legged pants. “Is it too much flowy or do the black ones work?” Ultimately you decide on the jeggings - as Hana said, they do much more for your ass. She consults on your hairstyle and make-up choices, and by the time you’re ready, your nerves have skyrocketed. “Am I crazy for doing this? Like he seems really nice, but I don’t know anything about him. And he seems young.”

“Oh, you stop that!” Hana rolls her eyes at you. “It’s been forever since you went out with someone. And so what if he’s a little young! Might be a good change of pace; he’ll have lots of energy.” She winks at you and laughs. She might be right. You hope so. Then, just like that, it’s time to head out. As you part ways, Hana offers a few last words of encouragement, “You’ll be fine! Just relax and have fun. If it sucks, it sucks, and you never have to see him again. But if it’s great, it might be the start of a fun adventure!”

You’re nearly to the bar, so you pull up his contact. Seungmin. Not for the first time, you wish he’d given you his last name as well. You might’ve been able to cyber-stalk him as well.

He answers on the second ring. He tells you he’ll be out front, and as you near the bar, you see him step out onto the sidewalk. He asks if you’re close, and you speed up a little. You tell him you are, then hang up; he looks down at his phone, head cocked to the side, clearly confused. You tap him on the shoulder and watch as his expression changes. Even with his mask on, you can tell when his smile lands. You meet it with one of your own.

“Shall we?” Seungmin offers his arm like a gentleman leading a lady out onto the ballroom floor. Once inside, you follow him past the bar and out the back door into an alley. Before you can question him, he points over to the right. A couple meters away, you spot a black door sporting red flourishes. He knocks out a slightly complicated rhythm, and one of the red designs opens to reveal a pair of eyes.

It’s a speakeasy. He brought you to a speakeasy. You didn’t even know that they had speakeasies anymore, though you suppose that’s the point. How does he know about it? He gives the password - flufflebuzz - and you make your way inside. It’s as you’d expect, a bit dark with a masculine, leather-based design scheme. There are small groups gathered around cocktail tables or in the booths lining the walls. Light jazz music floats through the space, covering conversations but not loud enough to make it difficult to have one.

Seungmin leads you to a booth in the back, saluting the bartender on his way. Once you’re settled, he takes off his mask and lets out a little sigh. “I hope this is alright; I know it’s a little different.”

You realize that he’s nervous, which calms you down a little bit. “This is so cool,” you smile at him, gesturing to the bar. “I’ve never been anywhere like this! How did you find it?”

“Oh, some people I work with introduced me to it,” he blushes as he tells you. Another little mystery. “Most people in here work in my industry.” As you turn to take a look around, the waitress arrives with two drinks in hand. They’re yellowish with a creamy foam on top. Seungmin thanks her before you can say that you haven’t ordered yet. “It’s a tradition here, your first drink is up to the bartender, but if you don’t like it, don’t feel like you have to drink it.”

“Well, that’s fun!” You give the drink a sniff. It smells fruity, though you expected that. You can’t figure out what its base is, though. You dip your pinky in a little bit. If Seungmin notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Your nail color doesn’t change, so you know it’s safe to drink. You pick up your glass and Seungmin clinks his to yours. You take a tentative sip. It’s good, a mix of sweet and sour. Seungmin makes a face, though. You laugh. “Not quite your style?”

“And he knows that,” Seungmin smiles at you before catching the bartender’s eye and flipping him off. They both laugh, and the bartender heads over, beer in hand.

“Not about the passionfruit?” The bartender slides the fresh drink in front of him. Seungmin just narrows his eyes at him. “I know, too sweet. I had to try, though. Now we’re being rude. Don’t wanna scare off your friend here. I suppose you’re really not a fan, huh?” He directs the question to you.

“Oh no, I love passionfruit. I think this is great.” You give him a polite smile, but they share an odd look and laugh.

The bartender picks up Seungmin’s discarded drink and takes a sip. “Happy to hear it. Could be good for you, Min. You guys have a good night.” With that, he gives a quick wink and walks off, joining another table rather than going back behind the bar where you see another bartender has materialized. You’re more than a little confused.

“I’m sorry about that. Chan Hyung is…” Seungmin looks thoughtfully in the direction Chan went. “A little over-protective. He just wanted to see that you weren’t… That you seemed alright. Sorry, I know that’s vague.”

“It’s fine,” you offer. Though you are still a little lost, you can understand looking out for a friend. “So is he not actually a bartender, or…?”

Seungmin laughs again. Now that you’re alone, you’re able to appreciate the sound of it a bit more. “No, not really. We’re just friends with him, and every now and then Chan likes to try his hand at making drinks somewhere that has a greater variety of ingredients. It’s for the best that they let him; the kitchen would be even more of a mess if he got stuff to make drinks at home. Anyway, enough about him, I wanna learn more about you.”

You blush a little at that and start answering the usual ‘get to know you’ type questions. You try to turn them back to him, but he deflects or quickly asks you follow-ups most of the time. He remains a bit of a mystery. You learn that he works with Chan, but doesn’t live with him - he has other roommates over at the other table, though; he has an older sister, which prompts a question that he answers easily for once.

“I’m 23,” he looks down at his drink, and you can just barely see his ears reddening in the dim light. “Not too young, I hope?” Though you haven’t explicitly told him your age, he clearly recognizes that you’re older than him. Despite not getting too many personal details, you are really starting to like him. And you’re pretty sure that confirms that he likes you, too.

“Not too young at all,” you smile. When your phone buzzes for the fourth time, he tells you to check it and heads for the restroom, stopping at Chan’s table on his way. He almost immediately erupts in the most endearing laugh with the lot of them. He looks so at ease with his friends, making you realize that he has seemed a bit nervous with you.

You look down at your phone to see multiple texts from Hana asking how it’s going, where you are, if you need rescuing. You let her know that you’re fine, having fun, and that you were right about him being younger. She immediately responds, asking if you’re planning on “closing the deal tonight then?” with a wink. At that, you put your phone away and look up to see that Seungmin's on his way back. The rest of the date goes on smoothly, moving from personal details to passions and interests; Seungmin answers a bit more freely now, his face lighting up the way it did in the cafe.

Before you know it, a waitress stops by to let you know it’s nearly time for last call. You’re both a bit surprised. “Wow, it’s gotten late fast,” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck, looking down and biting that perfect lower lip. Hana’s question earlier pops into your mind and now you’re blushing, too. “Would it be too corny if I said I didn’t want the night to end?”

It’s a wonder you can suppress the gigantic smile you know is trying to burst out. “Not at all, I’m having a great time, too.” You consider the table of his friends and roommates over at the other table. Seungmin probably won’t want to ask you to go back to him apparent with so many others potentially being there. You hope you sound casual. “We could always go somewhere else for a bit. Take a walk or have a nightcap at my place or something.”

His eyes meet yours again as he nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

•

The walk back to your apartment is a little quieter than you expected. The closer you get, the more nerves build up. After a few minutes, his hand brushes yours a couple times before he interlocks his fingers with yours. You don’t try too hard to suppress your smile when you see his. As you enter, you gesture to the couch then you head toward the kitchen, running through the rest of the place in your mind, trying to remember if you may have left anything embarrassing out. “What can I get you? Another beer?”

“Actually, I was thinking it might be time to switch to coffee if you have any,” he ventures; he follows you to the kitchen and clearly notices your lack of coffee machine.

You grimace slightly. “I know it’s not very good, but I think I have some leftover instant?” His face tells you that it sounds as bad as you feared it might. “Sorry, I’m more of a tea drinker.”

“Blueberry?” He jokes, or at least you think it’s a joke. He’s lost some of the joviality he had at the bar, becoming a little harder to read. “I like to have tea now and then. Could I have something black?”

He agrees to try some lady grey and asks to look around while you put the kettle on. By the time you come out with your mugs, he’s sitting on the couch. He looks much more uncomfortable now. You don’t know if you should be offering to turn on the TV or some music; it’s been so long since you’ve had a date over. What will make things less awkward?

Luckily he saves you from having to decide; he asks if he can show you a music video. You pull up youtube on your TV and hand him the remote. The video he pulls up is titled ‘Stray Kids "특(S-Class)" M/V’ and asks, “I’m guessing you’ve never heard of them?” When you shake your head no, he turns to face you more fully. “How do you feel about how tonight went? Would you be interested in seeing me again?”

This feels abrupt, and he still looks so nervous. You give him a smile. “Tonight has been wonderful, and I’d love to go out again.” You expect him to relax a little, but if anything he tenses up a bit more.

“Me too. I just… need to tell you something first.” Instead of saying whatever it is, he hits play on the video. You consider his profile, as he’s actively not looking at you. Your head snaps to the TV when the voice starts singing. You suppose if it’s this important to him, you might as well watch. For a second you think you recognize the guys in the group, but you’re not sure why. Around 30 seconds in, you know that you’re looking at Seungmin’s friend Chan on the screen. You shoot him a questioning look, but he’s still focused on the video. About 10 more seconds and you understand why he’s so nervous. Your jaw drops. This time when you look at him, he pauses the video.

He’s still not looking at you when he speaks, suddenly very interested in his tea. “I would really like to see you again. To get to know you better.” He glances up at you, finally, then nods back at the TV. “But it can be really hard to do that when that’s your job.”

You really don’t know what to say. The best you can come up with is, “You sing so well.” Your stupidity breaks the tension a bit; he laughs then you do. “Sorry, I don’t know what to think right now. I know you said you like K-pop at the bar, I just didn’t realize that you, like, are K-pop. Wow. That’s really awesome.”

He laughs again. “Well, that’s one way to put it. I know I just kinda dropped a bomb on you. I can go so you can have time to think about it.”

Your “no” probably comes a little too quickly. “You haven’t finished your tea... Plus, I don’t want you to leave. I’m not sure I even know what to consider about it.”

He gives you a small smile before taking a sip from his mug. “Well, there are a few things to think about. I’m not allowed to date publicly. So if we continued to see each other, it would have to be a secret. And I travel a lot. I’m usually a lot busier; these last few weeks we’ve been on a short break. It would be hard to see each other too often.”

It does sound difficult. Maybe too difficult to consider with someone you just met. But you haven’t connected with someone like this in a long time. He seems like a great guy, he wants to keep seeing you, and he’s so, so handsome. His gaze is on his hands, giving you the opportunity to study his face without feeling self conscious. As your eyes trace his features, you imagine never getting to listen to him write music again, never getting to watch his face light up as he answers one of your questions about it, never hearing him laugh again. As he pulls that beautiful bottom lip between his teeth and raises his head to meet your eyes again, you know what you want. In the morning, this will probably all seem a bit crazier, but for now… you place your hand on his. You lean in and gently press a kiss to his lips.

You pull back and look into his eyes. Time stops for just a moment as you look at each other. You can see the desire in his stare; it matches your own. Then his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you again. His calluses surprise you - you can feel the roughness of them as one hand trails its way down your body and the other snakes back to grip your neck. As his tongue brushes your lip, your mouth opens a bit more in invitation; he accepts, deepening the kiss, his tongue mingling with yours. His hands trace your curves before pulling you closer and you wrap your arms around him. Each movement is insistent, bordering on frantic, as if you can’t get enough of each other. You want to dive into him. He clearly feels the same.

One moment he’s gripping your thigh and the next you’re straddling him, grinding against his growing erection, while his fingers dig into your ass. You pull back and look at him. You’re both breathing heavily. His hands are on your hips now, thumbs rubbing small circles. Your hands are on his shoulders, coasting down to rest on his biceps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to -” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you smile at him. “Plus, I did kiss you first.”

“I meant to give you more time to think about all this.” He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You give him another quick kiss. “I don’t think I will, regardless of where we go from here. And I do want to see you again. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. So for now, do you think we can just see how this goes?”

He considers you for a moment, those dark eyes boring into yours. He looks so serious, you can’t guess what he’s thinking. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You give him a smile of your own and lean in for another kiss. You sigh into his mouth as his hands slide under your shirt. Your hands find their way into his hair as he grips your waist tightly before pushing your shirt up. You break the kiss to let him take it off, and he shakes his head again before cocking it to the right as he studies you.The look he’s giving you makes you think of a puppy. It’s so adorable and somehow only adds to his sexiness. “You’re really beautiful, noona.” He gives your waist another squeeze as he says it, but his grin starts to falter. “Are you sure about this?”

Your face heats a little at the honorific. Your gaze wanders from his face, down to your seat on his lap, and back up. You roll your hips, savoring the feel of his hard length beneath you. “I’m sure.”

With a small groan, he shocks you by standing up and guiding you to wrap your legs around his thin waist. Your apartment isn’t huge, and he already took a look around, so he knows just where to go. In seconds, you’re on your bed with his weight on top of you. He grinds his hips into yours as he takes your mouth again.

In a flurry of lips and tongues and teeth, you pull at his shirt, needing to touch his skin. He pulls back long enough to pull it over his head, then his lips find your neck while your hands explore his bare back. You should worry about getting a hickey, but all you can think of is how each suck and bite at your neck sends a burst of fire through your body.

A thought strikes you, “I’m - ah - I’m, I’m clean, by the way.”

Seungmin grins, relishing the fact that he’s made it difficult for you to utter a simple sentence. “I am, too.” With that, his lips move south, nipping at the tops of your breasts before he pulls one of the cups down, locking his mouth onto your nipple. He sucks, tongue flicking and circling, while his hands make their way underneath you in an attempt to remove your bra. You arch into his touch, giving him room to work. Once your bra is off, he moves immediately to work on your leggings.

Just like that, you’re fully bared to him, and he finally slows down. He’s kneeling between your legs, just taking you in. You take the opportunity to study him a bit as well. He’s obviously got some muscle, but he’s not built - it fits him. His shoulders are broad, kind of like a swimmer’s. Your gaze drifts down to the considerable bulge in his pants, and you really can’t wait to see the rest of him. Before you can sit up to continue undressing him, he’s back on you. He kisses his way from your lips to your chest, down your stomach, all the while murmuring how beautiful you look, how sexy you are. He nibbles at your inner thigh, eyes on yours.

“Is this okay?” At this point, it feels a little like a silly question, but those puppy dog eyes are back, so you can’t tease him about it.

“Yes, are you–”

Yes was all he needed to hear. The eager thing dives right in, lapping at your clit with a flat tongue before swirling it in circles. He’s barely begun and you’re already starting to squirm, his strong grip on your thighs heightening the experience. You can’t help but let out a small moan. Your hands move into his hair of their own accord. As he laps at your core, pushing you towards your release, your grip tightens.

He pulls back, and you suppress a whimper. He licks his lips and gives you a heart-melting smile. “Does hair pulling mean I’m doing well or do I need to change tactics?” His thumb makes its way to your clit, doing lazy circles as he asks.

It takes you two tries to answer. “Ye-yes, hair pulling means it’s good. Do you mind it?”

His grin widens. “Pull away.” He’s sucking and licking now, driving you wild. You have fistfuls of his hair and, despite his permission, are fighting not to pull. Then he inserts a finger into you, another quickly follows. Your grip tightens again, you let out a gasp, and you can feel his smile. His fingers are curling, massaging into just the right spot as he sucks at your clit again. When you thrust up to meet his mouth, his other arm shifts across your hips and pushes them back down. Your head spins as he adds a third finger. He’s not letting up, pushing you into the stratosphere. An endless stream of moans and gasps spill from your lips and a tear trickles down the side of your face.

“Oh.. Min,” you cry as you come. He slows but doesn’t stop as your body tenses and shakes, clenching around his fingers. As the trembling subsides, he withdraws his fingers and climbs his way back up your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses. He licks his lips again, then wipes his dripping chin before licking his fingers.

“You taste good.” And you can taste yourself as his lips find yours again. “I like when you call me Min.”

“Please,” your hand finds his bulge, pulling at him while the other starts to pull at his waistband. You’re not usually so needy, but your orgasm has only made you want him more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

His eyes darken at that. You almost wonder if you might’ve put him off with your begging as he pushes up off the bed. He keeps his eyes on yours for a moment then starts unbuttoning his pants. “Say it again.”

“Please,” you sit up to take over, freeing his length with a tiny gasp. You could tell he was big before, but seeing it is another story. An ache pulses in your core at the thought of him filling you up. “I need you, Min.”

There’s been a shift in him. He’s not moving as frantically, the look on his face is devastating - so serious, his eyes full of pure desire. He slowly positions himself back between your legs, a hand on your chest, slowly pushing you down onto your back again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds before rubbing it on your clit then settling it back at your entrance. He leans down, one hand posted next to your head, while the other holds himself steady, and his lips caress yours. He pulls back slightly, forehead on yours, gaze boring into you.

You know what he wants. “Fuck me, Seungmin, please.”

His eyes are still locked on yours as his body shifts, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your breath hitches and a soft moan escapes your lips. That flips his switch. His lips move roughly against yours as he starts to thrust. He quickly falls into a rhythm, and now it’s his hand fisting into your hair. You break the kiss so that you can suck at his neck. He sighs, but backs out of your reach. “I can’t, ah, I can’t have any visible marks.” You pull his mouth back to yours, your other hand grasping at his back. Seungmin slips a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit, and you feel yourself winding up again. As you meet each of his thrusts, you can’t control the mewling gasps coming out of your mouth. Soon you’re moaning his name again, and he’s breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. His movements become more erratic as you both approach your limits. You squeeze around him as you come again, and it sets him off at a faster pace.

“I’m going to, ah, I’m going to come,” he groans. “What do I, ah, where do I…” he straightens as he pulls out and you scramble to sit up and grab at him. He lets you take over pumping him while you quickly resituate yourself. You get your mouth around him and can barely move before his hand is back in your hair, and the other grips your shoulder tightly. You can tell he’s holding back to let you stay in control as you try to swallow him down without gagging (too much). Your name falls from his lips as he finishes; his hold on you loosens, and you both relax back. His hands move to cup your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed escaping. “Are you alright?”

You smile up at him, resting your hands on his thighs. “I’m fine. More than fine. You’re just a little big.”

He chuckles before ghosting a kiss over your lips. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.” He lays down then, pulling you with him. With your head on his chest, his hand tracing circles on your back, you start to drift off.

•

#kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #skz seungmin #skz fluff #skz smut #skz x reader #skz fanfic #seungmin

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ynsvnte · 10 months ago

Text

Cup of coffee? — Park Jongseong

pairing: stranger!jay x fem!reader genre: fluff, love at first sight, strangers to lovers, drabble Synopsis: what seems to be a normal day going to work on assignments, turns into the beginning of a romance story.

word count: 808

warnings: swearing, pecks

Masterlist

The sunlight snuggled between the curtains.. shining onto the floor. The warm kisses it leaves onto your skin.. the warm feeling of it bringing comfort. You rubbed your eyes, waking yourself from your restful sleep. You sit right up lost in thought.

“Wait what time is it..” you whispered to yourself, before looking over to the clock. “7:28” it read. You push yourself out of bed walking straight to the bathroom and get ready for the day.

After an hour or so. You exit the bathroom, getting a whiff a the vanilla candle lit in your bedroom. Early morning vibes. You get dressed in some comfortable clothes, and pack up a bag with your laptop, notebooks, and headphones your keys. You don’t know where you’re going, as you have nothing planned for today. You exit your house.. the cold chilly air hitting you.. but the sun was out.. you liked this weather. You drive to a random coffee shop with the intent of ordering nothing, probably just going to get some work done.

You find an empty seat before setting you itmes down. You pull out your laptop and get to work. You enjoy the feeling of the shop. It was very warm inside the complete opposite from outside. It being Mid-October it was sure starting to get more cold the past few days. You mind your own business, that’s until you feel a slight tap on your shoulder. You pause your music and remove your headphones facing the person.

Your breath hitched at the sight of a man. You noticed his delicate features, his eye.. burning into your own eyes.. that could probably cause you to melt..

“Uhh yes?” You asked awkwardly, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” The man asked you.. eyes slightly wide, your eyes quickly skim around the coffee shop noticing it was slightly packed.. your eyes meet the man’s back again, you answer with a nod. “Sure..”

He returns your answer with a smile. Taking a seat right in front of you. As awkward as it was for you to try and ignore that he was ever there, you just continued working. Silence between the both of you. Little do you know, this stranger sitting right in front of you was eyeing you the whole time ever since you got here. Did he really give up his seat just to sit with you? Yes.

Something about you made him feel warm inside. Like that feeling was always meant to be there. The way your brows crease in concentration. He found that very adorable about you. He held back a smile hoping to not creep you out.

When asking you if he could sit with you. He noticed how you stared at him for a long time. Your eyes going down to his lips. Who knew what you could be thinking. “So… what are you doing here?” He asked you. You look up staring at him. “Umm just catching up on some assignments..” you nodded. “I was about to order myself a drink.. and I was thinking you’d like one”

He stares at you, waiting for your response.. “sure.. I don’t see a problem.” He asks you what you’d like, before leaving to go order.. as he was ordering you to stare at him. Fuck.. why was he so attractive? You asked yourself. You couldn’t deny a free drink, especially from a man like him. You don’t even know his name.. should I ask? You thought. All these questions running in your head.

He brings both drinks back. Placing your drink right in front of you. “I know this is awkward but I think you’re very pretty..” your eyes widened. A 10/10 saying you’re pretty. Oh you were about to explode. “I- um thank you..” you say while shyly smiling. Your heart starts racing. “I’m Jay.. you are..?” Jay.. a name for an attractive guy. You tell him your name.. He smiles. “You have a pretty name.. not that I’m surprised..” he smirks. He knew what kind of effect he had on you. Were you embarrassed? Yes. But you force those feelings aside.

“I actually only sat here because I wanted to ask you out..” This man was not holding back. Especially for someone like you. He couldn’t miss the opportunity. “Oh.. so..?”

“So… well you go out with me.. I can give you my number.” You were fangirling inside. The teen within you was screaming. “I.. mean sure..” Jay grabs a napkin before stealing one of your pens and writes his number down. He passes the napkin to you.

“Guess I’ll see you soon.” He says before grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it. He walks away, but the feeling of his kiss lingering..

You touch the spot.. smiling widely.

Author’s note: writing this and then disappearing for a long while yeah. I’m sorry but the lack of motivation is crazy trust I want to write but there literally no motivation what so ever. Even this hurricane has classes canceled.. for the 4th time.. stay safe love you!! Sorry for the shit writing yall it’s been a while 😐

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peachiejeongin · 6 months ago

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Happy new year honey!!! Was wondering if I could get a channie fic where him and reader are both workaholics and never catch a break and they are slow burn friends to lovers (which the boys notice and are OBSESSED) and one day the 'kids' really want them to just CHILL because they can see they are both overworked and tired and just deserve to have a break and just be happy and in love together. (Maybe a set up somewhere) (Also maybe a bit where the reader is trained in massage so she gives channie a massage and it's just so warm and of course the skin to skin contact is just so relaxing and flares up the tension they both have for another etc. (side quest: an ex messaged me this weekend - it's been a crappy weekend too so the icing on the cake but if you could throw a bit where bang chan sees her ex trying to reach out to her and she almost thinks of caving because she's tired and needy but chan is like nope.) sorry but sorry for the long request. One needy girl 🥹 you are the best! x

When the World Pauses | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, some angst Warnings: Mild swearing, Chan and reader are overworked, ex texting reader, Channie is jealous Notice: Hello, my love! First of all, thank you SO much for your request, and happy new year to you as well! I am sorry you have had such a horrible weekend :( Exes are the absolute worst. Ugh. And do not apologize one bit! Longer requests are fun :) I hope I can bring a little bit of joy to you with this story! I loved writing it, and I hope you love reading it! Enjoy darling <3

word count: 4.2K

It was a rare, quiet moment at the studio. Your laptop and Chan's hummed faintly in the background, illuminated screens reflecting the endless to-do lists neither of you ever seemed able enough to complete.

The studio felt more like a second home at this point, not that either you or Chan spent much time in your actual homes these days. Chan’s desk was an organized mess of notebooks, tangled technological cords, and empty energy drink cans; he had been producing arduously for days, maybe even weeks at this point, preparing for the group’s upcoming comeback in a couple of months.

Your workspace, that being the soft, black couch Chan had been so generous to let you use while you were with him, bore the signs of relentless study: uncapped highlighters, sticky notes with half-finished thoughts, and textbooks spread open everywhere, from the couch cushions to the table just in front of you.

You were grateful your best friend let you overtake his sacred space to complete your own work; however, it sucked that the times you actually got to see Chan, the two of you were more immersed in your work than in hanging out.

Even now, Chan’s headphones were perched on his head, one ear slightly uncovered as he adjusted levels on a track for the fifth time that night. His brows furrowed in concentration, lips moving soundlessly as he mouthed lyrics under his breath. The screen in front of him displayed a sprawling timeline of audio files, layers upon layers of sound meticulously pieced together.

“Let’s play that last part again,” he murmured to himself, dragging the cursor back. His right hand hovered over the keyboard, his left tapping an absentminded rhythm on the desk.

Across the room, you were hunched over, the assignment displayed onscreen blurring as your eyes threatened to shut. You had been typing non-stop for the past few hours, so much so that you had lost track of how much time had actually passed. The words on your research paper were beginning to blend into an incoherent mess. Your phone buzzed beside you; it was a reminder that you still had two more assignments due by the end of the week.

“Just one more paragraph,” you whispered, forcing yourself to focus; however, the ache in your temples and the ever succumbing drowsiness had other plans.

“Want some?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up to find Chan holding out a water bottle. He had that look on his face—the one that said, “You’re pushing yourself again;” although the poor boy had no room to talk.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, the gesture warming your heart in an unexplainable way as you took the bottle.

“You’re still on that paper?” he asked, leaning against his desk.

“Yep. And you’re still on that track,” you countered, tilting your head towards his work station. Chan chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“Touche.”

No matter how tired you both were, there was always an unspoken understanding between the two of you. In the quiet moments between working, such as now, you would share small gestures of care, such as the aforementioned water or a late-night snack split without a word.

“Do you ever think we’re insane?” you suddenly asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Sometimes,” Chan replied, sitting back down at his desk. “But insanity’s a small price to pay for success, right?”

You had laughed then, a soft sound that carried a flicker of warmth in the otherwise silent studio; the noise alone lit up Chan’s heart, and he looked at you with a form of care no one ever had before.

This was always the routine: both of you wrapped so tightly into respective works that affection felt transactional. The boys, the meddling little brothers you could not help but adore, noticed long before you did.

And they were obsessed.

In fact, they were huddled outside of the studio door at that very moment, careful not to let either you or Chan see them.

“They are insane,” Han whispered, watching the two of you shuffle around the studio. “They’re basically a couple. An overworked, incredibly stressed couple.”

“They’re hopeless,” Hyunjin agreed, shaking his head. “It’s painful to watch.”

“They’re not hopeless,” Felix interjected, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “They’re just tired, and when people are tired, they just need a little push!”

“A push, huh?” Changbin smirked. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s just say I have ideas,” Felix responded, his grin widening.

That Monday started like any other. You woke up, got ready, and messaged Chan:

You: Headed to the studio. Already there I presume? Channie: You know it! See you in a few :)

Thus, you walked the couple of street blocks it took to reach the company building, your laptop, notebooks, and supplies secured safely in your bag. Everything was normal…until you reached the front door.

“Well, good morning. Where do you think you’re going?”

Felix stood in the doorframe, leaning against it and smiling mischievously as he looked at you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, attempting to go around him instead of responding; however, he moved in front of you, blocking your path once more.

“I’m just trying to study, Lix,” you exasperated. ��Can you please move so I can get to the studio?”

“Afraid not,” he smirked. “The thing is you, dear y/n, are not working today. Neither is Channie.” As if on cue, Lee Know appeared from the direction of the studio, dragging along a clearly unamused Bang Chan.

“Okay, what is this?” Chan groaned; along with being far from thrilled, he was groggy, a sign he clearly had not gotten much sleep the night before. “Are we being held hostage?”

“Quite the opposite,” Minho replied. “C’mon. We’re taking you both on a little getaway.”

“Getaway?!” you exclaimed. “For how long? I have two papers due by Friday and-”

“And it’s only Monday,” Felix interjected. “Relax. We’re only going to be gone for a couple of days. You’ll have plenty of time to get back to your studies.”

“Okay,” your voice trailed off as you pondered. “Well, I still have to go home and pack.”

“Yeah, so do I!” Chan agreeingly protested.

“No you don’t.”

An out-of-breath Jeongin suddenly came up behind you, with an equally exhausted Seungmin following suit; Jeongin was carrying a small, rosy suitcase while Felix was holding a jet-black leather one.

“How did you…” Chan’s voice faltered as he stared incredulously at the suitcases.

“Jeongin, were you in my apartment?” you questioned, making the boy’s cheeks go as pink as the suitcase.

“Nevermind that!” Felix said, ushering you both out of the building. “Just get in the car and breathe for a moment. You know, something you both have forgotten how to do.”

You and Chan gave each other a knowing look.

“So that’s what this is about,” Chan nodded his head, a faint smile daring to play at his lips.

“You think we have a choice?” you asked, raising one eyebrow as you watched the youngest two members carry the suitcases to the SUV. Chan chuckled.

“Absolutely not.”

The cabin sat nestled deep in the woods, its rustic charm amplified by the dusting of snow that clung to the roof and blanketed the surrounding trees. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, promising warmth and comfort inside, while the faint scent of winter lingered in the frost-bitten wind.

Chan helped unload the bags—well, attempted to help unload them before Hyunjin swatted his hands away, claiming that he would, “not be lifting a finger this weekend.”

“That goes for both of you,” he pointed to you afterwards with a stark finger, to which you held your hands up in innocence. Hyunjin motioned for Seungmin and Jeongin to grab the bags from the trunk, and you followed behind quietly, marvelling at the area’s stark contrast to the hum of your busy life—the usual buzz of deadlines and responsibilities replaced by the gentle crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional creek of swaying branches.

Inside, the cabin seemed straight out of a storybook. A large stone fireplace dominated the main room, its mantle adorned with an assortment of knick knacks and candles. Plush couches and throw blankets begged to be sunk into, while the kitchen’s wooden countertops gleamed under the soft glow of pendant lights.

“Woah,” you breathed, your eyes sweeping over the cozy place as you shrugged your coat off. “This place is magical.”

“It’s my parents’ cabin,” Felix explained. “I figured it would be the best place for the occasion.”

“Magical, you say?” Han interjected, brushing past you with an exaggerated joyfulness in his tone. “Magical for what? Relaxing? Bonding? Falling in love?”

Chan’s head jerked up, shooting Han a pointed look and muttering something only the younger could hear. Han laughed before disappearing down the hallway, furthermore shouting about how he “called the bedroom at the end.”

“Don’t mind him,” Chan jumbledly brushed off. “He’s just…Han.

You smiled, but the weight of the moment lingered. The cabin felt too intimate, too isolated to be just a “relaxing getaway” — not that you were complaining.

It did not take long to settle into the rhythm of cabin life. The boys rotated between eating, playing video games, and poking fun at you, Chan, and each other. The tension of your normal life melted away bit-by-bit. Yet, one thing became glaringly obvious:

Chan was horrible at relaxing.

While the others indulged in naps or spent hours sprawled on the couch, Chan was always doing something, whether it was rearranging the sparse decorations in his cabin room or fiddling with an imaginary track in his head.

The sad part was it was still the first day of your arrival.

“Dude, chill out,” you commented that evening, catching him tinkering with a notepad while everyone else was curled up in Changbin’s room playing video games.

“What are you talking about?” Chan looked up, sheepishly. “I’m not doing anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the pen he was clicking in and out absentmindedly.

“I just…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nevermind. I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t,” you retaliated, your tone gentle but firm. “You’re a ball of stress, and I’m almost positive the guys didn’t drag us out here so you could fidget with pens and sulk by the fireplace.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, exhaling heavily.

"I just feel tense," he confessed. "Both physically and mentally. I feel like if I don't do something, I'm not getting anything accomplished."

“That's the point of this week, Channie,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper now. "I get it; it's difficult for me too. Just...let me help you relax a little."

“How? You can’t shut my brain off.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling reflexively at your sides.

“Well, I…I’m kind of, sort of, trained in massage therapy. I can’t promise any miracles but…”

“You don’t have to do that,” he stated quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not going to be a burden for you and make you feel like to have to help me.”

“Channie,” you whispered, adjusting your position so you could be next to him. “I want to help you. You take care of everyone in your life all the time—the members, your family, me. Let someone take care of you for once. Please?”

His gaze flickered to yours, something unspoken passing between you. Finally, he nodded, shifting forward to give you space behind him.

Your hands hovered over his shoulders at first, hesitant to proceed. The idea of touching him in this manner, of breaking that unspoken barrier between you, made your stomach flip. Yet, the sight of his tense frame, begging for some form of relief pushed you past your nerves.

When you finally laid your hands on him, you felt it immediately: the weight he carried, the knots that refused to give way. You pressed gently at first, your thumbs working in slow circles, testing the boundaries of his comfort. Chan flinched slightly, then sighed as the tension began to ease under your touch.

“You are tense, Chris,” you chuckled in a murmur.

“Years of stress,” he responded with a dry laugh, his voice lower than usual.

The silence that followed was thick, not awkward but charged with an energy you could not quite name. As you worked your way down his back, your fingers brushing over the warm skin just between his shoulders, you could not ignore the way his breathing deepened.

“You’re really good at this,” he spoke after a while, his voice much quieter now.

“Years of practice,” you replied, trying to mirror his prior words in a casual dialect; however, your heart was racing, and from the way his body leaned subtly into your touch, you wondered if he felt it too—the shift, the crackle of electricity between you.

When you leaned forward slightly to reach a stubborn knot, your breath fanned against his neck, causing Chan to shiver.

“Are you cold?” you whispered, pulling back instinctively.

“No,” he said quickly. “Not cold. Just feels good.”

The room seemed to shrink, the air growing heavier with every second. Eventually, you removed your hands, feeling them becoming tired.

“Feel better?” you asked after a while, your voice softer than intended.

“Mm.” His reply was barely audible, and his head dared to dip back onto your chest. “Much better.”

You smiled to yourself, your hands trailing up to lightly play with his hair. Before you knew it, the boy in front of you was dozing off, the fireplace casting a dim glow over his face. You adjusted both him and yourself into a more comfortable position, namely one where he was now laying on top of you, and you were cradling his head in your arms.

You knew now, as you fell into dreamland, that the fine line between friends and something more had shifted, and there was no going back.

You woke up the next morning, stirring in confusion from the weight settled overtop of you; however, opening your eyes fully revealed a pleasant sight:

Chan was still dozing, clinging to your middle as if you were a precious gem he refused to let go of. A throw blanket was draped lazily over you two, undoubtedly thanks to one of the guys, and it barely covered Chan’s shoulders. The soft crackle of the fireplace was the only sound as you stared adoringly at him, running a light hand through his dark, curly hair.

“Didn’t know you knew how to sleep, Christopher,” you mumbled before giggling quietly. You reached for your phone, opening it and beginning to scroll aimlessly through various apps as you waited for Chan to awaken; it was still fairly early, so you expected him, as well as the rest of the boys, to be asleep for a few more hours.

Then it happened—a notification came through that sent your heart plummeting.

Do Not Answer: Hey, been thinking about you. Got a free moment?

Your breath hitched, and you stared at the screen, the words blurring as you felt your chest tighten. It had been months since you last talked to him, and you had worked hard to piece yourself back together after the traumatic events of your breakup. But seeing his name and reading his words ripped open an old wound that had not fully healed.

You clicked into the message thread, your thumb hovering over the keyboard with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, vulnerability—it all came rushing back in an instant. You hated how his words still had an effect on you, how a small part of you considered responding. Despite the cabin getaway, you still felt a semblance of exhaustion, emotionally drained from pushing yourself hard in school, and the prospect of slipping back into a familiar routine, even if it was toxic, felt dangerously tempting.

Deep down, you knew better, but what harm could come from one text?

“Fuck,” you muttered, swallowing a lump in your throat.

“What’s wrong?”

The low timbre of Chan’s groggy voice startled you, and your glance jerked downwards to find him, almost wide-awake with an expression of concern. His hair was messy, his sweatshirt bunched around his shoulders, and his grasp still firmly on you, his head still laying on your chest.

How long had he been awake?

“Oh, it’s uh,” you stuttered, locking your phone as you sat it down on the coffee table. “It’s nothing. Uh, how did you sleep?”

Chan did not buy that, to your dismay. He loosened his hold around you, leaning upwards on his forearms so he could look at you, almost hovering over you in a sense.

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that?”

You sighed in response, your fingers fidgeting with the hems of the blanket that had fallen off of Chan’s frame once he readjusted.

“It’s really nothing important,” you insisted. “It’s just someone I don’t need to think about right now.”

“Let me guess.” Chan’s gaze flickered from you to your phone, then back to you. “Your ex?” You hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “What’s he want?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered, bitterness creeping into your tone. “It’d be easier to make a list of what he didn’t want. I’m stupid for even thinking about giving it to him.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he did not say anything. Then, gently but firmly, he placed his hands on your shoulders, his subtle movement grounding you in a way you had not realized was necessary.

“You’re not stupid, y/n,” he told you quietly. “You’re tired. Your fuel meter’s been on empty for so long, so it’s no wonder you’re second guessing things.” His words hit you harder than expected, the weight of them making your eyes sting. “But just remember: he hurt you, and in my opinion, he doesn’t deserve a second chance just because you feel vulnerable. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who cares for you without expecting anything in return.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Why did I even consider it?” you whispered.

“Because you’re human,” he responded simply, his gaze holding yours. “But you’re also stronger than this.”

The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The warmth of his hands on your shoulders, not to mention his body still pressing on top of yours, and the steady presence of him alone were enough to drown out the doubts and fears swirling in your mind.

“Thanks, Channie,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smiled softly, his fingers giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

“Anytime. And hey.” He paused for a second, causing you to tilt your head in awaitance. “I do know how to sleep. I just don’t do it often.”

“Oh, you.” You slapped at his chest playfully, slumping into the couch as he chuckled.

“Whoops, I think I’m interrupting a lover’s quarrel.”

You and Chan turned towards the source of the noise—Han, who had wandered into the kitchen and was making a fresh cup of coffee to wake himself up.

“A what?” you asked in disbelief. Han took a sip out of his mug, smirking as the caffeine rushed through him.

“Oh nothing. Enjoy your cuddle session.”

“Our…” It was then Chan glanced down, finally noticing just how close the two of you were.

“Oh. Oh.” He lifted himself upwards, going to crawl off of you; however, you grasped his arms to hold him in place.

“No way,” you playfully remarked. “If you leave, I’ll freeze!”

“There is a fireplace right there!” Chan chuckled heartily, motioning to the fireplace dramatically.

“Okay?...Your point?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re comfortable.”

Chan shook his head, begrudgingly laying himself back down, resting his head on your chest and re-wrapping his arms around you.

“Fine. But only for a few more minutes.”

It turned out to not just be for a few more minutes; a few more hours would be more accurate. You and Chan had barely moved from the couch for the entire day, enjoying the comfort of each other by the fireplace. This, of course, earned a plethora of teasing remarks from the members.

“Awe, look at the little cuddle bugs!” Changbin cooed.

“Grandma and grandpa for real,” Seungmin remarked.

“Did you two finally wise up and get together?” Lee Know added, earning a sharp nudge from Felix.

The two of you did not mind, however. You knew the guys only meant it out of love…well, all of the guys except Seungmin. You had to admit: being called a grandma stung slightly, but it was all in good fun.

That night, when the fire had burned low and the boys had retreated back into their rooms, you and Chan were left alone once more, blanketed by the kind of quiet that demanded attention. He was sitting beside you now, the cuddling position you had been in prior becoming a tad uncomfortable for him.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Chan suddenly said, not looking your way. “I can sense it.”

“Says the king of overthinking,” you laughed softly, the sound brittle.

“Oh, whatever,” he murmured, his lips curving slightly into a small smile. “What’s on your mind?” He shifted slightly, turning toward you as the weight of his gaze pulled you in.

“Kind of everything, to be honest,” you admitted, the words bubbling as they reached the surface. “Thinking about school, life, that stupid message earlier.”

Chan’s jaw tightened at the mention of the text from your ex.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

He nodded accepting your answer without pushing; however, the way his fingers curled against his side betrayed his restraint.

The silence stretched, but it was not the uncomfortable type. It was heavy, seeming as if it was brimming with unsaid words and lingering glances from both parties.

“You know,” you said, breaking the quiet. “There’s one other thing I’ve been thinking about.”

“What’s that?”

“Us.”

The words felt surreal as they left your lips, barely audible but loud enough for Chan to widen his eyes.

“U-us?”

You nodded, your heart pounding so hard that you were sure the whole cabin could hear it.

“You feel it too, right?” you questioned. “Like, there’s something between us? Something that’s scary to admit? At least for me, it's scary.”

His expression softened, his eyes searching yours for a long moment.

“I have felt it,” he admitted. “Of course, I’ve felt it. It's nothing that's scary to me. Just..different.” The vulnerability in Chan’s tone sent a wave of emotion crashing over you.

“It is scary. What if I mess up? What if-”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his hand reaching for yours. His touch was warm, steady, and it silenced your spiraling thoughts. “You’re overthinking again. Just breathe, and…tell me how you feel. Be honest.”

You took a shaky breath, the words finally tumbling out.

“You told me earlier that I deserve someone who loves me without expecting anything in return. And if I'm being entirely honest, the only person I see fulfilling that roll in my life is you,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I think I'm in love with you, Chan, and I think I have been for a long time now. It terrifies me because I never knew if you felt the same way. I want you to be that someone, but if you don’t want to be, it’s okay. Just promise me I won’t lose you.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his quiet demeanor stretching just long enough to make your chest tighten.

Then, he smiled.

It was soft, almost disbelieving, and he let out a breath you had not realized he had taken in.

“What an incredible coincidence,” Chan softly said. “I’ve also been in love with you for a long time now. I just didn’t know how to tell you without the fear of scaring you off.”

“You…” Your breath hitched, the weight of Chan’s confession sinking in. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.” Chan nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t understand how much it would mean to me if I was that someone for you.”

The relief that washed over you was overwhelming, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in. He met you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and electric. The culmination of months, years even, of unspoken feelings poured out in an instant.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your heart racing.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whispered.

“It doesn’t,” he replied, his hands lightly wrapping around your middle. “But I promise it is, and it’s not going away anytime soon.”

“I love you, Channie.” You buried your head into the crook of his neck, the intimate emotions of the moment threatening to bring tears to your eyes.

“I love you more,” he muttered. “So, so much more than you could ever know.”

Thus, the adoring silence thickened the air yet again…but only for a moment.

“Thank fucking goodness!”

“Han, shut up!”

At that moment, the door handle to Felix’s room opened, and seven, nosy guys tumbled out, stumbling over one another.

“We uh,” Jeongin stuttered.

“We weren’t listening!” Hyunjin quickly covered up.

“Uh huh…” Chan furrowed his eyebrows, his cheeks going rosy. “Sure, you guys weren’t.”

“Can you blame us?!” Han nearly screamed. “You guys have been flirting with each other for years! This feels like the end of a K-Drama!”

“A K-Drama that has eight seasons and has ended each one on a cliff-hanger about the main couple’s relationship!” Changbin added on.

“Seriously, though,” Felix interjected. “We’re really happy for you guys. You deserve each other, wholeheartedly.”

You looked at Chan, smiling as you took in Felix’s words.

“Yeah, we do.”

“Who wants hot chocolate to celebrate!” Lee Know yelled out, instantly making his way to the kitchen cabinets. As all the boys crowded the small space, fighting over mugs, marshmallows, and other toppings, you lingered in Chan’s arms, placing another quick peck to his cheek.

“Best getaway ever.”

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/strangergraphics

🏷️@amararosesblog @velvetmoonlght (dm/inbox to be added!)

[ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ? ᴅʀᴏᴘ ᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ, ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ᴀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ!]

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authorchariot · 24 days ago

Text

> ENTRY: FIAT_LUX_FIAT_SANGUIS

RATING: mature

CATEGORY: the line (2023)

PAIRING: todd stevens x ftm!reader

EST. READING TIME: 36m 29s

INDEX TAGS: assault, blood and violence, cigarettes, fraternities and sororities, general toxic masculinity, hate crimes, hazing, heavy drinking, homophobia, hurt/comfort, mentions of vomiting, not beta read, pov second person, public humiliation, references to drugs, slurs, trans character, trans male character, transphobia

ACCESS MATERIAL ON AO3 OR BELOW

You aren't supposed to be here. Not really. At least that's how it feels sometimes.

Sumpter University always felt like something meant for them; for the kids whose last names hang from buildings and show up in glossy alumni brochures. The kids with summer homes and old money and internships they didn't even apply for. The ones who drive sleek cars and never check their bank balance, who treat tuition like a toll on the way to their daddy's law firm. You're not one of them.

You're just you; smart, stubborn and damn lucky. The scholarship helped. Your good grades helped. Your application essay about resilience and working three jobs in high school probably helped too. But mostly, it was your parents. Who cried when your acceptance letter came and insisted they could take out the loan to cover what aid didn't and hugged you too tightly when you boarded the Greyhound with secondhand luggage and three crisp button-downs.

They call once a week; your mom always pretending not to cry, your dad asking if the dorm's too cold, if the other guys treat you right. They ask about classes, about professors and you lie sometimes; say it's all going great, say you're fitting in just fine. The truth is; you're holding your head above water. And barely that.

Your life at Sumpter is measured in small, quiet rituals.

You wake up early; before your roommate, who still thinks 9 am lectures are a cosmic punishment. You brew black coffee in the shared dorm kitchen and then throw on your shirt in the bathroom. You head to class, sit near the front and take notes like your life depends on it.

When you're not in lectures, you work. The coffee shop down the street hired you during orientation week. It's clean, locally owned and far enough from campus that most frat guys don't wander in unless they're desperate or hungover. You like it. You can vanish behind the counter, sling drinks and listen to playlists over the steam of milk. It doesn't make much but it covers your books and the random expenses no scholarship accounts for; laundry, cough medicine, notebooks you burn through like firewood. The job doesn't pay much but it pays for things not included by the grant; phone bills, T shots, stationary.

You also study. A lot. The library is where you go when the dorm is too loud. You tuck yourself into a second-floor window seat with your laptop and flashcards and let the quiet soak in. You like being invisible. It feels safe.

You don't see the point in applying to a fraternity. You're not a legacy. You don't drink. You've never been good with crowds. They've started posting signs; bold fliers about rush week and mixers and off-campus retreats that sound more like retreats from responsibility. You pass them on the quad and don't look twice. That world isn't for people like you.

You don't know that someone's watching.

He sees you at work first.

You don't notice him; why would you? He's just another tall, confident pretty boy with a jawline carved like a statue's, dark hair swept back and a suit that probably cost more than both your parents' salaries put together.

But he notices you.

You're behind the bar, working the espresso machine, steam rising in clouds around your face. You're not smiling but you're focused; calm and efficient, brow furrowed slightly, headphones dangling from your collar. You hand a drink off to a girl in a tennis skirt and duck your head to avoid her thanks, already back to rinsing pitchers before she even turns away.

There's something about that. About your stillness. About the quiet intensity you carry, like someone who's trying not to take up space but can't help radiating something honest. It intrigues him. He watches the way you finish your shift and sit in the corner afterwards with a textbook and a half-empty mug, biting your lip while you underline notes with colour-coded pens.

He watches you the next week too. And the next.

Eventually, he asks around. Not openly, of course. Quietly. Strategically. A name passed to a friend. A nudge to the registrar's office through a connection. A glance at your class schedule. Nothing that would look like interest. Nothing that would look like attention.

He learns that you're a freshman. No affiliations. No family money. Smart; very. Works part-time. Top scores in your courses already. The kind of guy people overlook because he's not loud, not shiny. But the kind of guy who tells the truth, who tries his best, who lasts.

He wonders if you've even heard of his fraternity. He wonders what you'd look like out of that uniform of hoodies and jeans; dressed in something finer, darker, more dangerous. Lit by firelight instead of fluorescents. Staring up at him across a marble floor, music vibrating through your chest.

Maybe it's time someone showed you what Sumpter really is.

You're in the library again, sifting through heavy textbooks, armed with your arsenal of brightly-coloured stationery from Walmart. It's the little things that keep you happy; pastel highlighters, erasers in amusing shapes and lazy, lo-fi tunes on your headphones. You don't ask for much. You never have done.

There's not much to really study just yet but you're getting organised; making sure everything is labelled, colour-coded and filed away in its rightful place. You're in your own, little world; quiet, content, yourself.

There's the muffled sounds of shoes on the thick carpet. People don't tend to venture into this part of the library all that much but it's not new so you don't look up. The footsteps stop and you assume the person must've taken what they needed and headed back to their table.

It isn't until you hear someone clearing their throat that you lift your head, your eyes snapping to the man standing a couple of feet away, leaning against a bookshelf. He's at least six-foot, slicked-back hair, piercing blue eyes, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing strong forearms. He looks to be a mature student; maybe twenty-eight? Possibly even pushing thirty?

You start slightly, partially from the interruption and partially because the man standing barely a couple of feet away looks like he could be carved out of fine marble and displayed in Galleria dell'Accademia di Firenze.

"Hey." His voice is low, smokey, cutting through the music still drifting in through your headphones before you pull them off.

"Hi!" You immediately lower your voice, reminding yourself that you're still in a library. "Umm... What can I do for you?" You don't know him. Maybe you've seen him once in passing but his presence has you on edge for a reason you can't quite put your finger on.

He smiles slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. There seems to be this energy to him; something that commands respect, something that speaks to something inside you, something that probably has something to do with your father but you don't want to unpack right this instant.

"Nothing. Just taking a break from studying." He pushes off the shelf to sit in the chair across from you. "Mind if I join you?"

"Uhh... Yeah, sure." You reach over to move some of your books out of the way as he sits down. He's graceful but holding this coiled tension, like a wolf stalking a startled hare. He settles into the chair, just watching you, as you try to bring some kind of order to the chaos you've spread out across the table. You can smell him from across the table and that's definitely not a bad thing. Hyacinth, cedarwood, amber; from an expensive brand, no doubt.

"What're you studying?" He asks suddenly and you stare up at him owlishly. Is he genuinely interested or is this some joke? It wouldn't be out of character for one of the SU nepo babies to pick on one of the few poors on campus. They probably think of it as community service. Still, what's the saying? Never look a gift horse in the mouth? That's what brought down the Trojans, wasn't it?

"Psychology." You reply with a stiff smile. "It's not been too bad so far." He nods, brow furrowing slightly.

"You like it?" He continues, his tone gentle, encouraging even.

"Yeah."

"Good." He settles down further in his seat, seemingly having no intention of leaving. His eyes keep you pinned and you find yourself wriggling under his gaze.

"So — umm... — did you...want something?" You ask cautiously and his smile widens. It's kind enough but you get a feeling he knows something that you don't. You don't like it.

"Just wanted to check if you were settled in okay." You don't want to ask how he knew you were a freshman. It's probably obvious; wide-eyed, nervous, nose buried in textbooks, taking pleasure in your fucking cherry blossom-pink and seafoam-teal highlighters you got before arriving. You try to play it cool.

"Oh, yeah. Tough being away from home but all freshmen get that, I guess." You laugh softly but he doesn't reciprocate, just studying you from across the table.

"True." He agrees, lips still quirked into that little smile. "You signed up to any clubs yet? Frats?" He asks and you shake your head, trying to subtly tuck away your stationery.

"Uhh... No? I'm not really big on parties or anything." You tell him honestly as if he couldn't read you like an open book. Because you absolutely seem the type to be out drinking every other night, right?

"Right." He murmurs. A long silence settles over you as you feel cold sweat prickle the back of your neck.

"A-Are you in a frat?" You decide to ask.

"Mhm." He replies smoothly, a hint of pride in his voice. "Kappa Nu Alpha; oldest fraternity on campus." God, of course. He's one of the top nepo babies. Doesn't stop him from being undeniably gorgeous, though...

"Wow. How long have you been there?"

"Since I was a junior. It's been a big part of my college experience." He pauses for a moment. "We're pretty selective about who we let in." Then why is he talking to you of all people?

"What kind of stuff do you guys do?" If it was literally anyone else, you'd be making your excuses and leaving but there's something about him that glues you to the spot and forces you to listen and forces you to like it.

"Community service, charity events, academic support for our members. And, yeah, we throw some parties too." He admits with a small chuckle. "But it's more than that; it's a brotherhood."

"Cool. Sounds fun. Supportive." You say and he leans forward, expression turning slightly more serious.

"Mhm. We look out for each other. Speaking of which, you seem like you'd fit right in." His voice is low, conspiratorial, you feel it rumble through the table, where your hands are collected rather meekly in front of you. Your eyes widen before you look away, fiddling with the zipper on your pencil case.

"Oh... I don't think so." You reply, trying your best to sound polite. That draws a soft chuckle from him.

"Why not?" He presses gently.

"I'm just...quiet and not really all that fun at parties and... Y'know, the usual stuff." You explain and he waves a hand dismissively.

"Quiet's underrated. And who says you have to be the life of the party? We have plenty of brothers who are more than capable of that." He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table. "No, what we value most is loyalty and character." As heat rushes to your cheeks, you look away, desperate to find some excuse, something to drag you out of this.

"B-But surely applications are all closed, right?"

"No." He says easily. "If you wanted to apply, the deadline's the end of this week." If he was doing this just for laughs, surely he wouldn't be pressing you so hard on this, right? Surely he would've had his fun by now... You nod slowly.

"Do you...really think I'd fit in?" You ask hesitantly.

"Absolutely." He says without hesitation, almost too quickly. You don't know how to read this guy and it's throwing you off. "You seem genuine and down-to-earth. Those are qualities we value a lot more than someone who can just throw back shots all night." He leans back, giving you a reassuring smile. Something seems terribly off about this but... God, he's charming and pretty and he's actually talking to you like a person, unlike a lot of the students you've come across in your limited time here.

"Okay..."

"If you want, I can send the application link right now." He pulls out his phone. "Just think about it, okay? No pressure."

"Won't I need to talk with the president? Just to see if I'd even have a chance of getting green-lit?" You ask, unconsciously reaching for your phone.

"You're talking to him." He replies easily, thumbs flying across his phone screen until your phone buzzes with a notification from the university intranet.

Oh, Jesus... So not just an uncharacteristically pretty nepo baby. Not just a top nepo baby. But the president of the top nepo babies, who just so happens to be the most flawless man you've ever seen in your life. This just gets worse and worse, especially as his gaze and his voice get you hotter and hotter under the collar.

Your face goes bright red, heat flushing from the base of your neck to the tips of your ears and he laughs softly, genuinely. It's a nice, warm sound and your toes curl in your worn-out Converse as you suppress a shiver. "Just think it over, yeah?" He stands fluidly, passing a hand through his hair and straightening his shirt before adjusting his watch.

"Yeah, okay..." You manage though your throat feels tight.

"Good, I'll see you around campus." He says warmly before striding away.

As soon as he's out of sight, you let out a huge sigh, collapsing onto the desk, your head in your hands. The last few minutes felt like you just fought in the hundred-year war, your heart thumping against your ribcage like you just ran a marathon. You have to get back to your dorm. You have a lot to think about and a lot to process.

The end of the week comes and finally, in a moment of weakness and curiosity, you fill out the form and send it back over. As soon as you send it, you feel a rock settle in the pit of your stomach. You may have just made the best or worst decision of your life. Only time will tell which.

About a week later you're turning up to the first formal meeting. It's a retreat to one of the existing brothers' family estates, the kind of place where they should probably have a butler wipe the poverty off you before you step inside.

You stand on the ground floor with the rest of the hopefuls as the existing members judge you from the balconies on the floor above. You feel terribly out of place. The other hopefuls are dressed in jeans, t-shirts shirts and sneakers but they still feel miles above you in your best; which just so happens to be a dress shirt and pants you got at the thrift store before you moved away. It's clear to everyone that you're not on the same level as the rest of them, even the other hopefuls, and you find yourself trying to shrink away from the intense scrutiny of the many looking down on you. Welcome to the lion's den.

Todd Stevens — a name that popped up when you went to read up about the fraternity — seems right at home, stood on a balcony on the upper floor, addressing the room. A pressed, blue button-down stretches across his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked into black slacks that seem practically made to fit his slim waist and strong thighs. Looking up at him like this is intimidating, yes, but not unwelcome.

His eyes sweep across the group below him, lingering on each face for a moment before moving on until landing on you. He pauses slightly, for just a beat too long, before leaning back to start his speech.

"Welcome, prospects." His voice echoes in the large room; easily, naturally, as if he was born to do this. "You're here because you want to be part of something bigger than yourselves, something that will shape your future. Let me be blunt." His eyes are sharp and assessing. "Not every one of you will make it through the pledge process. We have gold standards, here, at KNA because we reflect on the college and on one another." You swallow hard. "We're looking for leaders; men who can handle pressure, make tough decisions and uphold our values. We think you might have what it takes, you have potential." He leans forward, large hands finding the wrought-iron railing in front of him, fingers flexing. You shuffle nervously on your feet.

His voice drops lower. "Let me make one thing clear; loyalty is everything in this house. To the brotherhood, to the legacy and to me." You look down at the floor anxiously as you hear some of the existing brothers snickering amongst each other. "Tonight marks the beginning of your journey." His voice raises slightly to cut through the murmurs. "Some of you will be tested in ways you never imagined. But remember this; if you're here today, we saw something in you."

You spend the rest of the weekend on the sidelines of conversations and hanging onto walls at parties. You're made the butt of plenty of jokes and it soon becomes apparent that what Todd said about you fitting right in couldn't have been further from the truth.

During the parties, you're encouraged to grope hookers and bump lines with some of the pledges but you turn them down sheepishly, only to be ridiculed further. You spend more time roaming the vast grounds of the estate than with the guys at the house; watching football and getting high. All the while, you feel eyes on your back, judging, assessing. The only respite you get is in the bathroom, where you get dressed every morning. You need to keep that under lock and key. God knows what these assholes would do if they opened up that Pandora's box.

You were right. This was never a place for you and you made a terrible mistake submitting that form. But you made a promise and you'll be damned if you're about to give up because of 'boys being boys'. You've seen worse. Much worse.

You have to prove to yourself that you can make it through this.

And, for some bizarre reason, you want to prove it to Todd. He extended this olive branch to you. Whether that was out of genuine hope, pity or some twisted sense of humour, you won't know, but his words echo in your head; 'you have potential'.

So you'll show these rich, daddy's boy pricks what a real working-class man can handle.

Well. That's if you make it past the first round of votes.

The night for voting arrives and you and the other hopefuls are taken to the living room. They drink and watch baseball and shoot pool but you're just sat in the corner, watching them, and wondering what the brothers are saying about you and the other prospects in the secretive, soundproof den.

In the den, only lit by the bright light of the projector on the coffee table, the existing brothers laugh and drink and toke up as Todd takes them through a slideshow of the hopefuls.

When the slide containing your photo appears on-screen and Todd announces your name, a hush falls over the crowd before a groan resounds through the room.

"Kid's a joke." One of them sighs, taking a long pull of his beer.

"He kills the vibe, man."

"He's such a pussy."

"I think he might be gay. I don't wanna live with a faggot." Todd keeps his expression neutral as he glances around, watching the other brothers nodding in agreement, their faces twisted in disdain.

"Yeah, what if he tries to, like, blow you in your sleep or something?" One comments as another one elbows the other in the ribs. They make jokes and sling slurs around, teasing each other.

"Okay but he kinda looks like a girl so like... I dunno."

"Yeah, put a bag on his head and get him fucked up. Maybe then he'd be half-decent company." One snickers.

"Looked him up. His dad is, like, a founder of this shitty, small-time IT company and his mom is retired. Ain't that a load of shit?"

"What made this kid think he'd even have a chance?"

"Like what? Are we running a day-care now?"

"Or a homeless shelter?" The room erupts in laughter as they grow more rowdy, laughing and throwing half-empty beer cans at the projection of your face on the wall, staring back at them, wide-eyed yet exhausted. Todd finally clears his throat, commanding the room's attention. He waits for the laughter and jeering to die down before speaking.

"Guys, I think we might be missing something here." He pauses. "You all know how tough it is to deal with the Dean sometimes, right? He's always breathing down our necks about rules and regulations. Now, this guy?" He jerks his head toward the projection. "He might be exactly what we need; clean background, no diciplinaries. He could be our 'good boy' face when we need to talk to the higher ups."

"Shit. So a good, little bitch to wheel out when shit hits the fan?" One of the brothers asks.

"I mean, he'll be quiet, at least. Won't throw parties without invites. Won't get caught pissing in the quad."

"But will he cover for us?" One asks seriously and the room grows quiet again.

"He's loyal. Just needs someone to hold his hand." He scans the room, meeting each brother's gaze firmly. "We give him a chance, show him what it means to be part of KNA. Hell, he might even be a decent guy if we get to know him. But..." His voice drops dangerously low. "If he messes up or screws us over, we pin it on him and then kick his ass to the curb." The brothers seem to like the idea of having a scapegoat. After all, no one would care if some poor, no-name, little bitch got kicked out of Sumpter.

Todd steeples his fingers. "But, until then, we keep him in. He'll follow the rules, keep his nose clean and be our golden boy when we need him to be, got it?" The brothers nod in agreement, their initial hostility replaced with cautious acceptance.

They have their reasons for keeping you but, for now, you're safe.

Over the next week or so, you take part in the initiations on campus, playing their stupid games and falling victim to their stupid pranks. They shave your head. You get a couple of bruises and scrapes in the annual KNA pledge versus brothers capture the football game. You give your pledge. You face every stage of the initiation with stoic endurance but the tension only grows more and more palpable as hazing night approaches.

Once again, there's a retreat to one of the brothers' family estates for the hazing. You stand with the other pledges, in front of the other brothers. You have a black eye, the bruise already turning a sickly shade of yellowish-green. Todd stands before your group, his expression stern and unyielding.

"Alright, listen up." He commands, his voice echoing through the grand hall of the estate. The other brothers stand behind him, their faces equally serious. "You all know why we're here tonight." You swallow hard. This is the last hurdle. You've come this far. "This is where we find out if you're truly KNA material." His eyes, almost black in the dim light, linger on you for a moment but show not an ounce of favouritism. "You've taken your beatings, swallowed your pride...but tonight's different." He pauses, running a hand along his clean-shaven jaw. "Tonight, you face your final test. It won't be easy and it won't be pretty. But it's all part of tradition."

Todd folds his arms across his chest. "You have two choices. One; you go through tonight, take whatever we throw at you and come out the other side as a true brother of KNA." He flicks his eyes across the pledges. "Two; you walk out now. No one'll hold it against you...but you won't be a brother. You'll be nothing. You will have squandered the potential we saw in you." You see the brothers shift impatiently behind him. "Well?" The room remains silent save for the ticking of a grand clock in the corner. He smiles proudly. "Good. Now, Collins prepared a keg for you to empty within the next..." He checks his watch. "Hour. I'd drink as much as you can, boys. The more you drink, the less it'll hurt. Go."

You're herded into a small study, a large 7.75-gallon keg sitting on the floor. The pledges instantly start guzzling down beer and you join them as the brothers leave to prepare everything they need for the proper hazing, the fraternity-branded paddle making its grand entrance in the harsh, fluorescent lights of the garage.

You drink cup after cup, desperately trying to keep up with the other pledges to drain the keg before the hour chimes. You feel ill and the room spins but you push through it, working on the sheer motivation that you need to show these assholes that you can do this. You remember the way they look at you, the way they talk about you, push you around, and it only strengthens your resolve. You down drink after drink after drink.

You will do this.

Finally, the hour chimes and every single one of the pledges is trashed, including you.

The brothers come back in and the first pledge has a pillowcase pulled over his head before he's yanked to his feet and pulled out of the study, the door locked behind them. God know what awaits you beyond that door but it can't be good.

A growing sense of dread drills into you, a pit forming in your stomach, as the pledges are led out, one by one. It seems like they're saving you for last, enjoying watching you squirm whenever they come in to get another one of the group, bagging their head and then dragging them out of the room.

Eventually, there's just you. Two of the brothers barge into the study, pull a pillowcase over your head and yank you from your seat. Your hands curl by your sides tightly as they lead you through the house, spinning you several times and laughing at your disoriented attempts to keep your balance. Anxiety grows in your chest as they manhandle you, pulling you forward until you stumble into the garage. It's clear the brothers are still in high spirits from the hazing as you hear their laughs and cheers from under the pillowcase.

Finally, the pillowcase is ripped off your head and you instinctively hold your hands up in front of your face to shield your eyes from the blinding light shining directly on you in the dark garage. When the spots in your vision clear, you find yourself surrounded by the KNA brothers, all grinning wickedly, high off the adrenaline of their previous victims. Todd steps forward, tapping the paddle against his palm.

"Well, alright. You made it this far, sunshine." He announces. Despite the nauseating nervousness eating away at you, the pride in his voice has your chest swelling slightly. You made it this far and you took it like a champ. Just one more step.

"First, though." One brother chuckles lowly. "We need to strip him down."

Your heart stops in your chest, your ribs tightening around your lungs. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no—

You barely have time to turn around to bolt for the door before the garage is filled with laughter, the brothers rushing you, hands outstretched. You manage to make it to the door only to find it locked and, by the time the realisation hits you, they're on you like a pack of wild dogs. The world tilts on its axis as they drag you to the floor. You try to curl in on yourself, smacking away their hands, but they only grow bolder, jeering and whooping as you cry out.

"No, please!" Your voice is lost as they mock you, dragging you back under the harsh spotlight. Rough hands tear at your clothes as they ignore your protests and pleas. Cold sweat prickles at your skin as tears well in your eyes. You flush in embarrassment, hands trembling as you try to pull away. They hoot and yell, joking about how feminine your figure is, about how weak you are, as you fight fruitlessly against them. They pull off your shoes and socks, tossing them against the wall. Your shirt comes off with a sickening riiiiiiiip before it's thrown to the floor in a crumpled ball. Huge hands, more like bear paws, unbuckle your belt before dragging your pants down along with your boxers, your drunken state making it impossible to fight back effectively.

Finally, they stand. The garage is silent save for the soft sniffles as you curl up on the floor, sweat and tears leaving damp spots on the concrete. You try to hide but you know it's useless. You hope this is just a nightmare but you know it isn't. This wasn't the worst part for the other pledges but it seems this has broken you. The humiliation, the shock, the fear, it makes your body tremble as you hide your face.

The bright light of the spotlight leaves nothing untouched. Silvery scars glisten under the harsh light, moulded to the shape of your chest, jutting up in the middle before circling your nipples. Between your legs, there's no cock where there should be one, just a thatch of wiry hair, and, nestled between them, the pure, irrefutable fact that this was never a place for you, that you never had a place in their ranks and you were kidding yourself when you told yourself you could carve a space for yourself here, despite who you are and where you came from. They see you now, small, shivering, naked, afraid. No one speaks and a deafening silence falls over the garage as the brothers stare from your body to one another and then back down.

Finally, one of the brothers steps closer, a scowl curling at his lips. You hear heavy footsteps behind you. This was supposed to be fun. They didn't want you here in the first place and you had the gall to bring this to their doorstep. They should've gone against Todd and kicked you to the curb when they had the chance. But no.

"Fuck you." A voice snarls, low and dangerous. "Think you can just walk in here and ruin everything for us, huh, tranny-faggot?" A sharp kick drives into your lower back and you arch instinctively, letting out a pained yelp.

"You're not welcome here, fucker." There's another hard kick to your stomach and you cough, whimpering, as more of them join in.

The garage erupts into a frenzy of violence and more and more of them decide to get in on the fun, punching and kicking your helpless, naked body. The blows rain down on you, each one sending pain lancing through your legs, stomach, ribs and head. Blood spatters across the floor and they cheer as you're nose and mouth drip crimson onto the concrete.

"Die, you piece of shit!" One of them spits on you as insults and cruel laughter echo around the space. Your body contorts as you try to get away but they hold you down, landing hit after hit. A particularly hard kick to your stomach has you wounded and gagging, emptying the contents of your stomach — predominantly beer — onto the concrete. They cheer but don't relent. There's a sickening crunch in your chest but it doesn't make any difference.

Something clatters to the floor before some of the men are shoved away from you, the instigator torn away from your body and onto the floor.

"ENOUGH!" The yell pierces the air and the other brothers pause, stunned into silence by Todd's sudden intervention. Given the chance, you weakly drag yourself across the floor, trying to get away, leaving a trail of sweat, blood and tears in your wake. You manage to huddle up in a corner, your body throbbing, chest aching but still heaving from the adrenaline. "What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn't what we do!" The one he threw to the floor staggers to his feet and points at you, his face red with anger.

"Why do you care? It's not even a real man!" He spits on the ground in the direction of where you're curled up. "If anything, you should be leading this shit, Todd! It disrespected you. Is this what we are now? Some retarded, pussy-whipped gay bar for freaks and fags?"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He yells back. You hang your head and lift a hand to your face, leaving a trail of red as you try to wipe your nose and mouth. "He went through all the same shit the rest of the pledges did, right?" The brothers seem to lose steam now, nodding slowly, though none of them seem convinced. "Then he deserves the same fucking respect." You draw in a wet, shaky breath and pain stabs through the left side of your chest. His voice softens slightly. "Anyone have a problem with that, they can say it to my Goddamn face."

Silence falls over the garage like a thick blanket. None of the brothers look at you, their faces twisted with disgust and...possibly guilt? Though that may be hopeful.

Finally, Todd turns toward your broken figure huddled in the corner, deep bruises blooming across your skin, blood dripping from your nose and mouth, seeping onto the floor. Anxiety clenches painfully around your chest again and he holds up his hands. "Hey, hey, easy..." He approaches slowly. "You alright?" He crouches down beside you. You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, only a choked gasp as a sharp pain slices into your side again. You're struggling to breathe. It hurts.

His eyes widen. "Shit." He mutters, voice filled with concern. He quickly turns to his brothers. "Someone call 911!" He turns back to you, hands hovering over your body uncertainly. The injuries only seem worse up close; deep violet bruises spreading across your ribs, stomach and thighs, cuts and scrapes scattered across your body from where you were thrashing against the concrete.

When none of his brothers move, Todd pulls out his phone and dials. Thankfully, they pick up quickly. Your vision is swimming, tunnelling. Every inch of your body, inside and out, feels like it's bleeding. Words sound so distant as Todd tries to keep his voice calm. "I... I need an ambulance? This guy... Uhh... He's beat up pretty bad. He's not breathing right." It's true; your breaths are fast, wet and wheezy but still you try to curl up, trying to hide away. Maybe they can at least let you die in peace.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open, the pain and shock threatening to overwhelm you. Todd gently shakes your shoulder, trying to keep you awake. "Hey, hey, look at me." He watches your eyelids flutter weakly, trying to obey. "That's it. Keep your eyes open for me, sunshine." He takes off his shirt, leaving red smears on his undershirt, and drapes it over you. "You'll be okay."

You don't know how long it is between him dialling for an ambulance and one arriving but he leaves your side to open the garage doors, flashing lights casting harsh shadows across the floor and walls.

Paramedics rush in with a stretcher, faces set as they take in your condition. None of the brothers have moved since Todd stepped in, staring, wide-eyed, at the EMTs. One kneels beside you, checking you over, as another talks to Todd. You don't hear much of the conversation, especially not as they move you onto the stretcher and cover you up with a blanket, leaving the bloodied shirt discarded on the floor.

They take you out to the ambulance and load you into the back. You barely register Todd trying to step forward but being stopped before he can reach you. The EMTs pile into the ambulance, slam the doors shut and flick on the sirens before driving away, leaving Todd and his brothers at the scene of the crime.

The house is eerily silent as the ambulance sirens fade into the distance. Todd stands there, hands clenched into fits by his sides. He turns on his heel, expression cold and furious.

"Someone explain to me how this happened." No one speaks, all of them averting their gaze only to see more evidence of their cruelty. One of them swallows hard, looking at the spatters of blood on the concrete. Another winces as he sees the pool of regurgitated beer. Another looks at Todd's shirt on the floor, stained with blood and sweat. No one speaks.

Todd suddenly turns and storms out of the garage, his brothers following reluctantly behind him. He bursts into the lounge, snatching the pillowcases off the initiate's heads without a word. They're afraid. They heard the screams. They heard the sirens. He turns to his brothers. "Get them dressed and drive them back to campus." Though stunned by the whole event, they soon nod and start ushering their new brothers away.

Todd stands alone in the suddenly empty living room, hands shaking with rage and something else; guilt. His mind races through the events of the night; the blindfolds, the tearing of cloth, the savagery, the sounds of your shallow, wheezing breaths. It echoes, bouncing around the space.

With shaking hands, he reaches for his blazer, tossed carelessly over an armchair earlier in the night. A fresh pack of cigarettes calls out to him and he tears into it desperately, slipping one between his lips and lighting it as gravel crunches under tyres outside. He takes a shaky breath but the nicotine doesn't help as he leans heavily on the back of the armchair.

He watched you go through every trial they threw at you without question, without complaint. You were the best of them and yet he let this happen, stood stock-still while those he called 'brother' pummelled you down. He feels sick to his stomach. Takes another drag of his cigarette.

This was never what he planned for, never what he wanted. Maybe he should've just left you alone.

A few days — and packets of cigarettes — later, Todd finds himself at the hospital. He didn't even mean to but he was pulled here. He's unsure if it's guilt or worry but he lingers at the door to the main entrance, watching them open and close. He stubs out his cigarette, steels his nerves and heads inside.

It's quiet and sterile. He strides up to the desk and asks the nurse for your room number. She looks at him pointedly before giving him the information and sending him on his way.

He walks through the hallways, heart pounding in his chest. It all looks the same. It's all a blur of clean white walls and laminate floors. You're out of the ICU, at least, he supposes but that doesn't grant him any relief.

Finally, he stands outside your door, hearing the faint beep of a heart monitor. He places his hand on the door. Hesitates a second. Moves his feet to walk back in the direction he came. Then slowly pushes the door open, needing to face the reality of what he dragged you into.

You lay in bed, hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. Your chest is bare, a tube lodged in your chest cavity. Your breathing is steady but the full extent of the beating is now apparent. Your skin is a mottled, black and purple mess of bruises, bleeding into one another. A gash in your lip has healed over somewhat but the lip itself remains swollen and sore. The tube in your chest makes his stomach turn.

Your eyes meeting his snap him back to the current moment and he steps inside quietly.

"Hi." You say, your voice barely a whisper, small and soft. Vulnerable. It breaks something inside him.

"Hey." He steps closer but not too close. He doesn't want to scare you or hurt you more than he already has. Finally, he settles into the armchair beside your bed, keeping his hands squarely on his knees.

"So...I take it I'm not...welcome in the frat then?" You laugh weakly.

"Don't. Don't joke about that." He says flatly. "None of us should've— We went too far." He looks down at his hands, seeing blood under his fingernails; your blood. "They're... They're all sorry." He lies. He knows they're probably back to normal now. He's likely the only one who can't stop thinking about you lying in this hospital bed. "I'm sorry." He adds genuinely. "I didn't— Jesus, I didn't mean to force you into this. I didn't know they'd— That we'd..." He trails off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. He didn't think his brothers were capable of this level of violence. "I'd...understand if you didn't want to come back. I wouldn't blame you, not in the slightest, but..." He slowly reaches out, sliding his hand into your own. It's so small compared to his; small and fragile. You squeeze slightly and his breath hitches. "But you've more than earned your place." You pause and he runs his thumb gently over your knuckles.

"I'll come back. If that's okay."

"Of course." He says quickly. Too quickly. He wants you in the house with him s he can watch over you, protect you. "You're part of the family now. You're one of us. Fuck, you deserve to be there more than all of us put together." You smile slightly, leaning your head back to meet his gaze.

"Todd?"

"Yeah?" He leans closer, brushing hair away from your face carefully.

"Why did you come up to me in the first place? I'm guessing you don't personally walk up to all the prospects, right?" You ask and he pauses, his hand lingering near your face.

"Because you stood out. You didn't kiss ass or try too hard... But that's not the only reason." He says, trying to gather all the words he needs. His voice drops to almost a whisper. "I wanted you there."

"Why?"

"Because you seemed like someone worth having around." He tells you quietly, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"Do you still think that?" You ask cautiously and he smiles.

"No. Now I know that." You flush sweetly though it's difficult to tell under all the bruises. "You come back and I'll take care of you, okay, sunshine? Anybody touches you again and I'll tear their Goddamn head off, understand?"

"Yeah." He heaves a heavy sigh, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"You won't have to worry about a thing."

TAGLIST: @ingoldthewizard @judeval @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @starwarskawaii

#lewis pullman #ftm!reader #todd stevens #todd stevens x reader #the line

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