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daryltwdixon · 2 days ago

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Daryl Dixon x Reader Don't Scream

Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon) | masterlist

Summary: You didn’t mean to be here. You didn’t mean to see this. The motel door had already been cracked open, a splintered frame, a hint of something wrong curling in the air. You should have turned around, left, pretended you never saw the blood on his knuckles, the way it was painted across his throat. But then he looked at you. Slow, unfazed. Like you walking in on his carnage was nothing at all. You didn’t know why your breath shuddered. You didn’t know why your fingers itched to touch. And you sure as hell didn’t know why you didn’t run.

tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊️ horror, Dark!Daryl Dixon, blood and implied violence, no outbreak, motel room encounters, morally gray reader, predator/prey vibes, dubious situations and dubious consent (the reader whole heartedly consents they're just trying to reason with themselves that this is a terrible idea), serialkiller!Daryl, reader walks in on something she shouldn’t, fear-turned-arousal, misattribution of arousal, thanatos / death drive theory. a/n: thank you so so so so much to my friend @dixonsdarkelf for beta reading & giving me the boost I needed to post this! also thank you to @rheedus for this fabulous gifset that inspired me

The drive home always dragged.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh, fingers tightening on the wheel as the road stretched endlessly ahead. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. You were supposed to stay with your family for two more days—grit your teeth through the small talk, sit through the passive-aggressive questions about your job, your life, your choices. Smile. Nod. Pretend. But instead, you were barely a few hours in before it all fell apart.

Dinner had started fine. It always did. But then one question turned into a pointed remark, then into something sharper, something meaner. The same fight, just recycled into different words, but this time, you weren’t in the mood to swallow it down. This time, you pushed back. Voices rose, tempers flared, and before you knew it, you were grabbing your keys, shoving out the door, leaving behind the half-eaten meal and whatever thin thread was still holding the conversation together.

Now you were here—alone on the highway, miles of darkness stretching in every direction, headlights carving a path forward.

Traffic jams bled into one another, each red taillight blurring into the next, the clock on your dash creeping past midnight. Eventually, the further you went, the emptier the roads became, until it was just you and the long-haul truckers, their rigs groaning under the weight of whatever cargo they hauled through the night.

Your eyelids grew heavier, dipping lower with every mile. You blinked hard, willing yourself awake, but exhaustion clung to you, thick and suffocating. It wasn’t just the late hour—it was the crash after the adrenaline of the fight, the weight of too many words you couldn’t take back pressing down on you.

You told yourself you’d be fine. Just another two hours to go.

Then a deafening horn shattered the quiet, and before you even realized what was happening, your tires veered across the lane. You gasped, jerking the wheel hard, the car lurching as you barely corrected in time. The highway was nearly empty, but that didn't matter—your heart was pounding, hands clammy where they gripped the steering wheel, the sudden shock of how easily that could’ve ended differently locking your breath in your throat. That was it, you knew you needed to stop, needed to pull off and find a place to get some rest before hitting the road again in the morning.

You took the next exit, into a town that was barely a town at all, just a forgotten smear of civilization on the side of the highway. The streets were empty, the buildings slumped and decayed, as if the place had given up on itself long ago. A gas station, a diner with its ‘Open 24 Hours’ sign flickering in and out of life, and a squat little motel, its vacancy sign buzzing weakly in the dark.

Pulling into the parking lot, your headlights washed over cracked pavement and weeds pushing up through the concrete. Only a few cars were parked outside, most of them old and rusted, as if they’d been sitting there for far longer than a single night’s stay. The only light came from the neon sign overhead and the sickly yellow glow spilling from the front office window, casting shadows that felt too long, too stretched.

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel. Something about this place felt…off. Not in an obvious way—no shattered windows, no ominous figures lurking in doorways—but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting. These were the kind of motels in movies where you’d scream at the protagonist: Keep driving, idiot! Find someplace else!

But there was nowhere else, and you couldn’t risk driving another hour to find the next rest stop.

It wasn’t ideal. Hell, it was probably a breeding ground for bed bugs, or worse–the kind of place where people checked in but didn’t always check out. But the thought of curling up in your car for the night, stiff and vulnerable in an empty parking lot, wasn’t much better.

All you had to do was get the key, lock the door, and make it through till morning. You’d toss your clothes the second you got home, scrub this place off your skin like it never touched you.

It was fine. It would be fine.

The fluorescent lights in the front office buzzed overhead, their hum just a little too loud in the unnatural silence. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of something overly sweet—like someone had tried to cover up years of cigarettes and mildew with cheap air freshener.

A small bell sat on the counter. You hesitated, then tapped it once, the chime ringing out sharp and hollow.

Nothing.

You waited, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, the feeling of being watched crawling up the back of your neck despite the room being empty. Just as you were about to hit the bell again, a figure shuffled out from the back.

It was a woman, older, her expression carved from stone. Stringy hair pulled back into a loose bun, a cigarette smoldering between two fingers, her nails yellowed from years of nicotine.

“What can I do for ya?” she drawled, exhaling a long stream of smoke. It curled thick in the air, stale and cloying. You forced yourself to breathe through your nose, ignoring the burn in your throat.

“One room, please. Just for the night.”

She tapped at the ashtray on the counter, knocking the embers loose without looking. Her gaze stayed on you, too steady, too knowing, as if she was peeling you apart one layer at a time.

“You travelin’ alone, honey?”

Your spine straightened.

“No,” you said a little too quickly. “My dad’s waiting in the truck.”

She hummed, dragging another long inhale from her cigarette as her beady eyes stayed on you. Like she could tell it was a lie, no matter how sure you tried to sound.

“So, two beds?”

“Just the one is fine,” you said, tightening your fingers around your bag strap “We’ll manage.”

"Cash or card?" she asked, watching, peeling away whatever confidence you tried to have.

"Card," you murmured, fishing it out with stiff fingers.

She slid it through an ancient-looking reader, her other hand tapping the desk with the long, deliberate patience of someone who had nowhere to be. Her name tag was smeared, almost unreadable, and the glass of the front desk window was covered in a film of grime.

She handed the card back, then a single brass key, its tag worn soft with age.

“Room one eighty,” she said, sliding it forward. “End of the lot.”

You took it quickly, fingers brushing against the cold metal.

The woman leaned back, taking another drag, her lips curling around the cigarette. “You let me know if y’all need anything, alright?”

You forced a nod, but something about her stare made your skin prickle. You turned toward the door, gripping the key so tight it pressed sharply into your palm.

Outside, the air felt too thick, like the humidity had climbed in the last few minutes, settling heavily on your skin.

Then, you felt it again.

That thick, crawling awareness pricking at the back of your neck. That quiet, animal instinct that told you someone was watching. You turned your head before you could stop yourself.

Across the parking lot, just beyond the neon glow of the motel sign, a man stood under a broken street light. At first, he was nothing more than a dark shape, half-obscured by the flickering light, his face hidden in the deep hollows of shadow.

He was just… standing there. Watching.

You didn’t recognize him, and he was too far away to make out anything but his built form, the broadness of his shoulders. But there was something in the way he stood, still as stone, his body angled just slightly toward you, his gaze locked and unblinking.

The look in his eyes, dark and unreadable even from a distance, sent a shiver licking down your spine.

You turned quickly, your nerves on fire. But as you made your way down the long stretches of rooms on the outer perimeter, the railing overlooking the parking lot, you began to hear signs of life. The sounds seeped through the walls, slipping under doors and filling the narrow stretch of concrete. A bass line thrummed from somewhere nearby, muffled by thin walls as it seemed to pound with the rhythm of your heartbeat. Somewhere farther down, men shouted, their voices rising and falling, drunken or angry or both. Laughter burst out, sharp and sudden, followed by the distant clatter of something knocking against a table or a wall.

When you turned around and looked back across the parking lot, the man was suddenly gone.

TVs droned from multiple rooms, the glow of static flickering through slatted blinds. Someone had left theirs too loud, a newscaster rehashing old stories like it wasn’t the middle of the night. A couple was arguing behind one of the doors you passed, their voices biting and loud, words slamming into each other with no space to breathe. Something crashed—glass, maybe, or a chair knocking over—and you picked up your pace without realizing it.

Anywhere else, maybe it would have felt normal. Just people awake too late, passing the time, waiting for morning. Here, it only set your teeth on edge. Something about it felt wrong.

The fact that so many people were still awake at this hour made the muscles in your back pull tight. You weren’t alone here. But that didn’t mean you weren’t isolated.

Then, a heavy thump.

It came from the room to your right, sudden and jarring, loud enough to shake the thin wall between you. Your breath caught as you flinched back, your heart hammering against your ribs. There was movement, the slow creak of weight shifting, but nothing else followed. No voices, no explanation. Just silence settling too quickly, like whatever had happened had stopped the second you reacted to it.

Your feet moved faster, a reflex more than anything, carrying you down the walkway before you could think too hard about it. The numbers on the doors passed in a blur—178, 179, and finally, 180—your fingers tightening around the key as your room finally came into view.

You fumbled once, just once, hands suddenly damp, but the second the lock turned, you pushed inside, slamming the door behind you.

The second it shut, you turned the lock.

The noises outside dulled, voices and music muffled the moment you closed the door and slumped your back against it, your chest rising and falling like you’d just run a half-marathon instead of walking across a motel lot. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, gripping at nothing, your pulse a frantic beat against your ribs.

You dragged in a breath, trying to slow the restless thrum in your veins. Just get through the next few hours, get some rest, and then you’d get the hell out of Dodge.

It was fine. It would be fine.

Except, sleep didn’t exactly come easy. You tossed and turned on top of the stiff bedspread, every shift of fabric loud in the silence, ears straining for any sudden sound beyond the walls. A door shutting, footsteps outside, voices carrying just enough to make you wonder if someone was too close to your room.

After what felt like forever, you gave up, flipping on the TV just to drown out the rest. The low murmur of late-night programming filled the room, casting weak blue light over the cracked ceiling, but it didn’t do much to settle you. You weren’t sure anything would.

The one thing you couldn’t ignore in favor of sleep, though, was the slow, gnawing ache of your stomach.

You should’ve stayed for the rest of dinner. Sat through the tense conversation, swallowed the words you wanted to throw back at them, and picked at your plate even if you had no appetite. At least then you wouldn’t be thinking about stepping outside again, not in the dead of night, not in the seediest motel you could’ve possibly stumbled across.

But the longer you lay there, the worse the hunger got.

Every motel had a vending machine, didn’t they?

You sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face, already hating where this was going.

You just had to be quick. In and out. Then you’d lock yourself in and actually try to sleep.

You knew it was wishful thinking to assume the vending machine would be easy to find. It was never that simple. You circled the building twice, passing the same cracked pavement, the same rusted-out cars, the same rooms with their curtains drawn too tight.

By the time you finally stumbled across the middle hallway, the glow of a single overhead light barely illuminating the space, you were already regretting this. The vending machine sat in the corner, humming under the flickering fluorescents, the metal frame dented, the glass fogged with fingerprints.

Your fingers hovered over the rows of snacks, barely able to focus on the choices, your body still on edge from the walk over. The motel felt alive, like every sound behind every door was something you weren’t supposed to hear.

The machine hummed under flickering light, the buttons worn down to the plastic. You fed it a couple of crumpled bills and tapped at one, then another, and waited. A loud mechanical churn. Then—nothing.

Great.

You smacked the side of it. Nothing again. Your stomach twisted painfully, a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since you’d last eaten. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face, and turned to leave.

And that’s when you noticed it.

A door, cracked open at the very end of the hall.

The frame was splintered, like it had been forced open.

Something in your gut tensed.

You should walk away. Right now. Get back to your room, lock the door, and pretend you never saw anything. But something about it—about the stillness of it, the way the dim glow of a bedside lamp barely reached the threshold—made your feet stall.

Someone could be hurt. Or worse.

You swallowed hard, pulse in your throat as you crept closer, every instinct screaming at you that this was a bad idea. The air shifted the closer you got, thick with something you couldn’t name, something wrong.

And now that you were standing at the threshold, staring at the cracks in the doorframe, splintered from some kind of forced entry, your eyes drifted lower. Something dark and sticky was splattered on the ledge of the door, thick streaks leading onto the carpet inside.

Your heart stopped altogether. It was no longer rattling in your chest from fear, but fully frozen, skipping and halting as if trying to jumpstart itself while you stared into the dimly lit room.

At first, it was just shapes—shadows swallowing each other, the motel’s tiny lamp and the flickering TV casting everything into uneven light—warm and dark one second, sharp and cold the next. As your mind caught up to your eyes, it sharpened, the darkness peeling away, and you finally realized what you were looking at.

On the queen-sized bed in the center of the room, the bedspread was untouched, barely rumpled, except for the body laying perfectly still atop it.

Like someone had laid them there on purpose.

A mess of red had soaked deep into the fabric, fresh enough that the air was thick with it. The copper scent was overwhelming, clinging to the back of your throat, so metallic and sharp you could almost taste it. There was so much blood. More than you had ever seen in one place. Too much for it to be okay, too much for it to mean anything other than the obvious. You should have turned around. You should have stopped looking. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything except stand there, heart frozen in your chest, as your brain worked double time, locking onto every detail like it needed to catalog the carnage in order to make sense of it. The body was positioned too neatly, arms at its sides, legs straight, head turned away just enough that it felt unnatural—like whoever had done this hadn’t just been brutal, but deliberate.

Your stomach clenched. The smell invaded your nose again, worse now, thick and nauseating, making something cold claw its way up your spine. You stumbled back a step, your hand flying to clamp around your mouth before you could decide whether you were about to scream or be sick. You needed to move. You needed to leave. You needed to call someone, do something, but your limbs refused to cooperate, locking up as if freezing in place would somehow make this all disappear. Your body was waiting for direction, for instinct to kick in, but it never did.

Then, the bathroom door on the other side of the room swung open, spilling yellow light into the dim space as a man stepped out.

At first, it was the fluffy pink robe that threw you off, a ridiculous contrast against the raw violence laid out before you. Your brain latched onto it, desperate for anything that made sense, anything that didn’t belong to the nightmare in front of you. But then your eyes dragged upward, and you saw it—the blood.

It was everywhere. Splattered across his throat, smeared up his neck, drying in dark, uneven streaks along his collarbone. His hand was coated in it, the thick, dried red cracked over his knuckles, like he hadn’t bothered to wash it off. Like he hadn’t cared enough to try.

Panic reared its head, shoving its way into your chest, squeezing your lungs tighter than before. It was one thing to stumble across a body, to witness a crime. It was another to look into the eyes of the man who had done it. Your body understood before your mind did—the liquid fire of adrenaline flooding through your veins, your muscles locking up in place, every nerve screaming caught, caught, caught.

His gaze locked onto you, heavy and assessing, and even from where you stood, you could tell his eyes were the deepest ocean blue you had ever seen. There was no rage in them, no madness—nothing that fit the sheer bloodshed he had left behind. He was unnervingly handsome, despite it all. Maybe because of it.

He inhaled, dragging another slow pull from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips before shifting his weight, completely unconcerned.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Well,” he muttered, voice rough and edged with disinterest as he let out a puff of smoke, “shit.”

You should have run.

You should have turned and bolted down the hallway, thrown yourself outside, screamed for help—something. But you didn’t. Your body wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let you turn and run from the scene in front of you. Your limbs were locked in place, rooted to the motel floor like they had forgotten how to move, how to respond, how to do anything but tremble.

He seemed to notice, and flicking his cigarette, he made his way slowly toward you. He was so slow and careful it was almost predatory, like he was trying to camouflage into whatever normalcy was left in the room. Like he was trying to convince you that this was completely normal and he wasn’t some axe murderer in a pink fluffy robe.

“C’mon now,” he muttered, stepping toward you with zero hesitation, like your presence here was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Least shut the damn door.”

He moved with easy, unbothered confidence, reaching past you, pressing his palm against the motel door and nudging it inward. It swung heavy on its hinges, closing behind you with a soft, final click.

Your breath shuddered. You were really stuck here now, with him, and for some reason, the panic in your chest wasn’t flaring like before. You remained stock-still, frozen, waiting for him to make his move, to put you out of your misery for being a witness to his crime. What was his weapon of choice? Did he have a knife? A gun? Did he kill with his bare hands?

The man stepped in close, standing just in front of you now, close enough that you could see the uneven streaks of blood drying against his throat, close enough that you could smell the mix of cigarettes and sweat and something deeper layered with the metallic tang of blood.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you, head tilting ever so slightly, like he was turning over a thought in his head, working something out.

Then he exhaled, lifting a hand—slow, deliberate, like he was giving you a second to react—and twisted a lock of your hair between his fingers.

His touch was light, but it sent a bolt of something electric straight through your spine, and yet, still, you didn’t move. You should have pulled away. You should have slapped his hand down. But your body wasn’t yours right now. It belonged to fear.

He hummed low in his throat, almost to himself, turning the strands between his fingers, studying them with an unreadable expression.

“You’re real pretty,” he muttered, almost absentmindedly, like it was a passing observation, not something meant to soothe you. His voice was low, rough, dragging over the syllables like he didn’t use them often. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?”

Your throat locked up, lungs seizing against the flood of adrenaline. You weren’t even sure if your heart was still in your chest based on the way blood was roaring in your ears, drowning out every rational thought. He was teasing. Curious. And—God—flirty?

If you didn’t know better, if you hadn’t just stepped into this room, hadn’t seen the blood, hadn’t noticed the body stretched out too perfectly on the bed—you might’ve… you might’ve…

You swallowed hard, but your throat was too dry to get any sound out. Your pulse slammed in your ears, your heartbeat betraying everything you wanted to hide. He watched you for a moment longer, then let your hair slip from his grip, rubbing his bloodstained fingers together as if testing the softness.

“You’re shakin’,” he observed, mouth pulling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but leaned in that direction, like your fear was interesting to him… like it was cute.

His fingers twitched then, and after a pause, he reached up again after sticking his cigarette in his mouth—this time, just barely brushing his knuckles along your jaw. The touch was fleeting, but enough to make you tense even more.

He made another small sound in the back of his throat, mock sympathy edging into it.

“Like a scared little bunny.”

You should have been running. Screaming for your life. You should have turned and bolted the second you saw the blood. Why weren’t you fucking running?

The part of you that should have been shutting down, the part of you that should have been clawing for survival, digging its heels into your fogged, terrified brain to pay fucking attention—that part of you…

It was curious about him too.

You watched as his face changed then, watching your reactions like a predator tracking in his prey, eyes narrowing as they darted around your face, reading you, piecing something together. His lips twitched like he was amused, like he had figured out something you didn’t even understand about yourself yet.

“No…” he said, pulling his hand away, head tilting slightly before his face split into a grin, pulling the cigarette out between his fingers, “you’re not scared, are you, little bunny? You like this.”

“No!” The word ripped out of you, barely a whisper at first, but then louder, cracking in the dim room around you., “No.” Your breath stuttered as you tried to sound more confident, your whole body wired too tight, but the denial felt weak even to your own ears.

“Oh, there she is,” he said, watching you closely, pleased that he had finally drawn something out of you. “You gotta name, sweetheart?”

Your lips pressed together, your jaw tight, but your eyes sharpened, taking him in, really seeing him now. His blue eyes were dangerous and beautiful and terrifying all at once, cutting through the haze of your fear like a blade. There was blood splattered up his face, drying along the sharp structure of his cheekbone, disappearing into the strands of dark hair that hung loose in his eyes. It should have made him look monstrous. It should have made him unrecognizable as anything human.

But it didn’t.

It made you want to lean forward. Your mind flashed with the idea, and you did everything you could to keep your body from following, the idea that you wanted to trace the sharp cut of his jaw, to drag your tongue over the remnants of metallic blood he had missed along his lip and—

No.

No no no no no.

The thought seared through you like an open flame. Your breath caught, your skin igniting in humiliation, a flush so deep you wanted to disappear. You couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe your own body, couldn’t believe the way your stomach clenched, the way something hot and ugly was overlapping the sheer horror of what this man had done. There was fear, yes—a lot of it. But there was something else crawling underneath, something just as intense, something that made your pulse skyrocket as his hand moved.

His hand pushed the cigarette into the wooden frame, the hiss of the burning end snuffing out by your head. His fingers then found the strap of your shirt, curling around the fabric, dragging it down over your shoulder with his bloodstained grip.

“No name, huh?” he murmured, watching your face, watching every shift in your expression, like he was memorizing what you looked like when you trembled. His voice was lower now, quieter, dangerous in a way that wasn’t loud or obvious, but steady and unshaken. He leaned in closer, close enough that the heat of his breath ghosted over your throat.

“That’s okay, bunny,” he muttered. “I don’t got a name either.”

Your stomach dropped.

And then, to your utter horror, he kissed your shoulder.

Not deep. Not forceful. Just the slow, deliberate press of his mouth against your skin, his lips barely parted, dragging warm and rough over the place he had just exposed.

It sent a violent shudder down your spine. The sensation—the heat of him, the quiet intimacy of it, the way he didn’t move away after, just lingered there—lit something in your chest, something sharp and unbearable. Your nipples, the traitors, hardened underneath your shirt, poking through the thin fabric that stretched across your chest. A gasp left you before you could stop it, your eyes widening in shock.

The man huffed softly against your skin, something amused in the sound.

“You like this, bunny?” His voice was slow, edged with something almost thoughtful, like he was figuring it out as he spoke. His nose brushed the side of your throat, his breath warm as he tilted his head, inhaling the scent of your perfume.

“You like a man like me takin’ advantage of just how scared you are?” His hand tightened just slightly at your shoulder, his mouth ghosting along your jaw before he murmured, “That it, bunny? You like the fear?”

His lips brushed your pulse.

“The shame?”

His fingers traced along your collarbone, the metallic tang of copper filling your nose as his hand got closer and closer to your face again.

“You turned on by a little bit of blood?”

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers curling at your sides, and you knew whatever you said next would change everything. You should have lied. You should have denied it, should have shaken your head, should have shoved him away and run before it was too late.

Your mouth parted, your chest heaving like you had just surfaced from drowning, but before you could answer, his hand snapped up, grabbing the nape of your neck, fingers lacing in your hair. His other hand suddenly gripped your jaw, forcing your face to tilt toward him.

It was fast, sudden, a flash of violence that slammed through you like a bolt of electricity, it made you gasp sharply, eyes going wide.

His grip wasn’t bruising, but it was firm, unyielding. His fingers dug into your jaw just enough that it bordered on pain, enough that you felt the quiet threat humming underneath him.

His eyes narrowed, sharp, dark, and hungry, locking onto yours like a predator seeing prey for exactly what it was. His grip tightened for a split second, his thumb dragging rough over your cheek, the dried blood flaking slightly against your skin, crumbling like dust beneath his touch.

“Say it,” he rasped, voice still calm, still steady as stone, but something inside it had changed—harder now, more dangerous.

Your body locked up, trapped between the heat of him and the cold reality of what was happening, of what had been happening for longer than just that moment.

Because it hadn’t started when you stepped into this room.

It didn’t start when you saw the blood. It didn’t even start when you heard the body hit the floor.

It started long before that.

You’d always known something was wrong with you. The way fear didn’t keep you away—it called to you, wrapped around your ribs and had you in its grip. The way you’d always looked for danger, for the spike of adrenaline that made your heart hammer against your ribs, made you feel more alive than anything else.

You could’ve stayed at your parents’ house. You could’ve forced yourself to sit through another dinner filled with questions about your future, their expectations suffocating you like a cage you were never meant to fit inside. But you didn’t.

You left in the middle of the night, peeling away from their house like something inside you was clawing to be free, chasing an impulse you hadn’t fully understood at the time.

You hadn’t stopped driving until exhaustion forced your hand. And when you pulled into this motel, when you stepped onto that cracked pavement, when you heard the distant sounds of raised voices, of something heavy hitting the ground—your pulse hadn’t stuttered in fear.

It had spiked.

And while you tried to ignore it, ignore that pull, to force yourself to sleep, you couldn’t say no to that part of you that needed to see. You’d left your room, weaving through the shadows of the motel, passing this exact door. The vending machine hadn’t been the excuse you told yourself it was. It wasn’t hunger for food that had your stomach twisting, your body restless against the scratchy motel sheets.

It was hunger to know.

To see.

To find the blood, the body, and the man who did it.

And now he was standing in front of you, looking at you like he already knew all of it. Like he’d read the answer in your dilated eyes, in the way your breath had hitched when you first saw him, in the way you were still here, still trembling under his grip but not running.

Your mouth was dry, your body refusing to move, refusing to break free of his hold. Because the worst part wasn’t that you were afraid.

The worst part was that you liked it.

You made a small, broken noise, your fingers twitching, your whole body tight as a wire as you reached up, your hands sliding around his forearm.

“Yes,” you whispered. It was barely a sound, barely more than breath, but his eyes flickered, something shifting beneath them.

The pressure released all at once.

His grip loosened from your jaw, tracing down the side of your throat with something slower now, something more deliberate. You let your hands fall, reaching for him instead. His thumb dragged along your cheek, wiping away the remnants of old blood he had left there. His lips lingered, the warmth of them stark against your skin, a slow drag over your jaw as he exhaled. The scent of him—smoke, sweat, the faint metallic ghost of dried blood—was thick in your lungs, wrapping around you, leaving no space for anything else.

His lips barely moved as they traced your jaw again when he spoke, the words slipping against your skin, low and quiet, like they weren’t meant for the space between you but meant to sink into you, settle deep, curl around something inside you that you didn’t even have a name for.

“I know, bunny.”

It was soft, almost affectionate, but threaded with something deeper. Something knowing.

Like he had been waiting for you to admit it to yourself first.

His fingers, the ones still tangled in your hair, tightened slightly—not rough, but firm, keeping you in place, keeping you still for him. He turned your head just enough to guide you, slow, like testing a skittish animal, like making sure you wouldn’t bolt the second he took what you were already offering.

You didn’t know him. You didn’t even know his name.

And none of that mattered.

Your hands, trembling but restless, lifted before you could stop them, pressing against the warm plane of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palms. He was solid. Real. Your fingertips brushed against the edge of the pink robe he still hadn’t bothered to shed, the soft, ridiculous fabric clashing with the rough scrape of stubble along your throat as his mouth continued its path downward.

You felt the shift in him before you even saw it, the slight pause of his breath, the way his grip in your hair flexed before tightening further. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, tracing the vein of your artery along the column of your neck. You shuddered against him, eyes fluttering closed, and he chuckled, low and breathless against your skin, the sound of it vibrating against your pulse.

“That feel nice, sweetheart?”

You opened your eyes to look at him, and his were darker now, heavy-lidded, focused entirely on you, taking in every shuddering breath, every small twitch of your lips, the way your pupils had swallowed nearly all of your color.

Then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was ravenous. Not just hungry but starved. The slow, intoxicating drag of lips and teeth and heat blurred every thought, every warning screaming in your head turning into static. You felt one of his hands skim lower, tracing the dip of your waist, fingers pressing into the thin fabric of your shirt like he was debating whether to rip it from your body or take his time peeling you open.

His mouth moved over yours like he already knew you’d open for him, like he had been waiting for it, waiting for this.

And God, you let him.

155 notes · View notes

writtenbyan-aries · 3 days ago

Note

i swear I’m ovulating 😩 i need NEED the nastiest Matt smut you can possibly give me im literally on the floor begging for it mama please

∶ Summary: What happens after office hours, well, that’s just a different kind of business.

∶ Warnings: smut, boss!Matt x secretary!Reader, swearing, sexual tension, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie, oral, choking, filth

∶ Word Count: 3.6k

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

The ding of the elevator at the end of the hall snaps you out of your tired stare. You quickly snap into acting like you were working.

“Good morning.” Matt smiles as he walks up to your desk, “Sorry I’m late. My idiot brother needed a ride and proceeded to spend thirty minute past the time we needed to leave getting ready.” He rolls his eyes, “Did anyone call yet?”

You shake your head, “Not yet, Mr. Sturniolo, but I-“

“You don’t have to call me that, sweetheart. You’ve been my secretary for quite a while now, I think Matt is just fine.”

You tilt your head, “Sorry, Matthew. I’ll work on it.”

A smirk plays at his lips and he tries so hard to fight it off, “Uh huh, you better.” He taps your desk, “Call downstairs, have them bring me up a coffee, and get whatever you like, too.” He gives you a wink, “I’ll be in my office, I have a meeting scheduled for..” he hums as he tries to remember and you fill in the blank, “Nine fifteen with Mr. Colby Brock.”

“That’s it.” He smiles, “I’ll be in my office.”

You nod, reaching for your phone. You dial the number for downstairs and listen to it ring a few times before someone picks up, “Sturnique, this is Stacy, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Stace. It’s y/n from upstairs, could you have someone bring up Mr. Sturniolo’s coffee order and can you also add on vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso please?”

“His usual and a latte, extra espresso. Anything else?”

“No, that will be everything. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Have a good day!”

“You, too.” You smile to yourself as you hang up the phone, leaning back with a sigh. As soon as your back hits the chair, the phone rings again. You lean forward, moving in closer as you pick it up, “Matthew Sturniolo’s office.”

“Hello, I’m looking to speak to Matt.”

“May I ask who’s calling?” You rip off a sticky note and grab a pen, pausing when you hear her sigh, “Yeah, it’s his girlfriend, Melanie.”

You raise your brows, “Okay.. give me one second, I’m just going to put you on hold. I’m not sure if his meeting is done with yet.”

“He’s in a meeting right now?” She scoffs, “Fine.”

You don’t hesitate to press the hold button. You push yourself up from your chair and walk over to knock on his door.

“Come in.”

You push the door open and he smirks, “What can I do for you?” You tilt your head, “I have a Melanie, on hold for you.” His face falls and he leans down to rest his head on his desk with a groan, “Fuck me.”

Your brow twitches up as you fight back a smirk, “I told her that I wasn’t sure if your meeting was done with yet or not.”

He lifts his head and nods, “It’s not. Tell her I’ll call her later or something.” You nod, getting ready to back out and he calls out, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile and close the door, making your way back to your chair. You pick up the phone and sigh before taking her off hold, “Hi, Melanie. You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Okay, so Matt is still in with his current clients, but he did tell me to let you know that he will call you back in a little bit.”

“Figures.” She hangs up and you sit there stunned, “Have a good day to you, too.” You set the phone down and turn as Matt’s doors open, “She’s a ray of sunshine.” You tease, “Girlfriend, I assume?”

He shakes his head, “Not even close.”

“Oh. That’s shocking.” You shake your head, “Not that you can’t get a girlfriend or anything, I know you can probably get one if-“

Saved by the bell.

The elevator dings and you look at Matt, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He smirks, laughing as he shrugs, “You’re fine, don’t sweat it.” He turns, “Oh, thank you.” He takes his cup labeled with an M.S, groaning as he takes a sip, “This is exactly what I needed.” He hands you your cup and you take a sip, “I feel that.”

“Thank you.” You smile at the gentleman before he turns to walk away. You lean back, turning to look at your computer screen, “Oh, did you want me to book your tickets for Italy now, or..” you look back at him and he nods, “You can do it now. Make sure you book yourself one, and I’m going to need two extras for my brothers.”

You both speak at the same time, “He better not make us late for that.”

You both laugh and Matt nods his head, “You get it.”

You move closer to your desk and the elevator dings again. You look at Matt, “We’re not expecting anyone right now.” He looks back down the hall and sighs, “Oh my god.”

A girl comes walking down the hall, “Some meeting you have here.”

“You must be Melanie.” You glance at Matt and back to her, and she nods, “Melanie St. Paul. Yes. Matt, can I speak to you in your office.”

“No.” He shakes his head, “We’re fine right here.”

You sip your coffee, clinking on the flight ticket page, trying to act like you’re not listening.

“You didn’t call me last night.”

You clench your jaw, fighting to keep your eyes on the screen. A part of you felt lowkey jealous because you liked Matt, and you can’t say he doesn’t know. With how he acts with you, creating all of this tension, you’re certain he liked you, too.

“I’m sorry, I had a late work meeting, and then I had a dinner with some clients, and then I went home and passed out.” He shrugs, “I don’t-“

The phone ringing cuts him off and Melanie sighs as you reach to pick it up, “Matthew Sturniolo’s office.”

You nod to yourself as you glance up at Matt, “It’s Sam, he’s returning your call from yesterday.” Matt nods, “Transfer him to me.” He looks at Melanie, “Look, I gotta take this. I’ll call you later, just.. go home. Please.” He turns and walks into his office, closing the door behind him.

Melanie huffs, turning on her heel before stomping down the hall. You give it a few seconds, waiting for her to step on and leave and you transfer the call to Matt.

You bring your personal cell phone up to your ear and smirk, “How’d you like that?”

“Y/n?” He laughs, “oh my god, you are a genius. Thank you.” He hangs up and comes back out. You slide your phone on the desk and turn towards him, “You’re welcome.” You smile, “So, do I get to know who she is?”

“She’s someone I went out with last week. I didn’t feel anything, so I kinda just have been blowing her off, hoping she gets the hint.” He shrugs, “And from that.. I don’t think she has.”

“I don’t like saying this, but she seems a little crazy. Like showing up to your workplace?” You raise your brows, “If she comes again, I’m calling security.”

“If she comes again, I’m calling security.” He laughs, “I thought she was nice, but after the date she blew up my phone, asking how it was and all of that. She kept asking questions about my past dates and if they were better than that one. It was weird.”

“Yeah, that’s..” you shake your head, “Insane.”

“Right?” He sits down in the chair in front of your desk, “You know..” he plays with your pens in your cup, “I’ve had the best time on our work dinners than actual dates.” He glances you at you, and you smile, “Really?”

He nods, “Yeah, you actually listen to what I have to say, and I know it’s mostly about work, but maybe-“

The elevator bell dings and you lean over, “It’s Colby.”

Matt stands up and walks over, “Hello, Mr. Brock.”

Colby smiles and walks up, reaching out to shake his hand, “How’s it going? We ready to talk business?” Matt nods, “Oh, for sure.” He looks at you, “If anyone calls-“

“Take a message.” You nod, “Got it.” You smile and turn back to your desk, finishing up getting the tickets bought for Italy.

The phone rings and you reach over, “Matthew Sturniolo’s office.”

“Hey, y/n. It’s Nick.”

“Hey, Nick. What can I do for you?”

“I know Matt’s in a meeting right now, but can you tell him that Chris and I will be up for lunch?”

You jot down the note, “I will do that. Anything else?”

“Yeah, email me what you want from Cerio’s.”

“You don’t-“

“Matt insisted.”

“Okay.” You smile, “I’ll look over, oh. While I have you on the phone, your ticket, and Chris’ ticket, is taken care of for Italy. I’ll email them to you.”

“You’re the best. Thank you.” He sighs, “I’d love to chat more, but I gotta go.”

“Bye.” You hang up and continue going over emails. An hour later, the door to Matt’s office opens, and him and Colby both walk out, “Thank you so much for coming in. I’ll go over everything and I’ll have y/n send over the finalized copy of the contact.”

“Sounds good.” Colby nods, reaching out to shake Matt’s hand, “Have a good day.” He looks at you, “You too.”

“Thank you.” You smile and look at Matt, “Nick was the only one who called, he said him and Chris are coming up for lunch. I also told them that their tickets are paid for, which I also emailed to you.”

“You’re the best.” He smiles, “So we got Colby’s team on board. If we can pull this off, they can get our line into the fashion week.”

“Oh, Matt. That would be amazing!” You lean forward, resting your chin on your hands, “When do you need to send in the final product?”

“Two weeks is the deadline, so if you don’t mind. You’re probably going to have to stay late a few days within these next two.” He sits down and you shrug, “Not a problem. I’ll do whatever you need.”

He purses his lips slightly, nodding his head, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He looks at you with a smirk, “So, anyway, as I was saying before hand-“

The phone rings and you can tell Matt is getting irritated. You glance at the phone, “Do you want me to-“

“Yeah, please. It could be Sam.”

You nod, picking up the phone, “Matthew Sturniolo’s office.” Your eyes go wide and you motion for Matt to go to his desk, “Yes, Mr. Golbach, I will forward you to his office right now… mhm, not a problem at all.” You glance over as his office door shuts and you transfer the call.

You hang up and lean back. If Matt gets this deal, he’s definitely getting into fashion week.

You were chewing on your nail, waiting for Matt to come back out of his office. You were trying to keep your mind occupied, but this was a big deal for you, too.

An hour and a half later, Matt finally comes out of his office. You stand up, “Well?”

Matt takes a deep breath, “We got it!”

“We got it!?” You cover your mouth, “Hell yes!” You open your arms walking over to hug him. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up off the ground with a spin, “He said he liked the presentation of the proposal, which, honestly that was all you.”

He sets you down and shakes his head, “Thank you for working so hard on that.”

You smile, giving him a shrug, “My attention detail pays off once again.” You laugh and he nods, his eyes searching your face, “Yeah, it does.”

As soon as the elevator dings, Chris and Nick can be heard yelling to him from down the hall.

“Of course.” Matt mumbles, walking towards them, “Why do you always have to eat in my office?” Chris gives him a look, “Uh, your office has the best view?”

Nick hands you your bag, “Your lunch, darling.” You smile as you take it, “Thank you.” You go to sit at your desk but Matt stops you, “No, no. You’re coming in with us.”

You smirk and nod, “Okay.”

Throughout lunch, you mainly listened to the boys talk about their deal with Sam. Italy, and what they wanted to do while in Italy.

Occasionally, Matt would bring it back around to you, praising you for all of your hard work.

You wanted to jump him right then and there. You couldn’t lie, the tension was getting thicker and thicker as each day went by. You just wanted him to push you up against a wall and kiss you as hard as he could.

“Y/n?”

You blink, “What? Yeah, sorry.”

Nick laughs, “I asked what you want to do in Italy while we’re there.” You lean back, “Mm, good question.” You sigh as you think, “I would love to visit the Pinacoteca di Brera.”

Matt’s eyes go wide, “Say that again.”

“Pinacoteca di Brera.” You smirk, “What? Did I say it wrong?” He shakes his head, a smile on his face, and Nick speaks up, “No, you say it so beautifully.”

You smile, “Aw, thanks. I guess.” You laugh, “It’s been a dream of mine to go to Italy.”

“Guys. I think there’s a robbery happening down there.” Chris points at the window and you look over, “What?” He looks back, “Yeah, look.” You all go over and sure enough cops fly towards the scene and Chris breaks into laughter, “Sorry, that’s not-“

“Idiot.” Nick shakes his head. You avert your attention to the scenery overlooked by his office window, “You do have the best view.”

Matt’s eyes never leave your face, “I know.”

You look over at him as he walks away and you go back to sit down. A little bit later, you’re back at your desk, and as the brothers are leaving, Matt’s one thirty is here.

“Hello, Mr. Rosetti. I’ll let Matthew know you’re here.” You smile and call into his office.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You right back a smile, “Mr. Rosetti, your one thirty meeting is here.”

“Perfect. You can bring him in.”

You hang up and stand up, “Right this way.” He follows you into his office and Matt gives you a nod, “Thank you.” You smile, “Welcome.”

You close the door and sit back down at your desk. A few phone calls and email replies later, Matt and Rosetti come out of his office.

“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Rosetti, I’m excited to work with you.”

“As am I, Mr. Sturniolo.” He nods, “Talk soon.” He gives you a nod before turning to leave and you spin your chair towards Matt, “I think that was your last meeting of the day.”

“Good, put on the voicemail and come in here. I need it to be after office hours for a little bit.” He turns to walk into his office and you comply with his order, hitting the button on the phone and walking into his office.

As soon as the door closes, Matt’s hands are on your waist, “I can’t keep doing this professional relationship, I need to know what you feel like around me.”

You gasp at his words, pulling him in for a heated kiss.

His hands slide around to grip your ass before wrapping his arm around your waist. He kisses down your neck, spinning to walk you over to his desk.

He bends down, breaking the kiss so he can swipe his desk clean. He lifts you up, setting you down on it, and his lips press to yours again.

Your hands work to undo the belt on his dress pants, proceeding to undoing the button and zipper on them, too.

His hands push your dress skirt up your thighs and he gives them a squeeze as your hand slips into his boxers, “Fuck, I need you so bad.”

You nod, “I’m yours.”

He jumps on it, pushing your panties to the side and gliding his fingers up and down your needy cunt a few times before pushing two fingers in. You gasp, your hand sliding up to tangle your fingers into his hair as you moan, “Fuck, yes.”

Your head tilts back, moaning louder as his fingers curl upward repeatedly. You tilt your head up, eyes following him as he drops down to his knees. His fingers pull out of you and they’re replaced with his tongue.

You gasp, pulling him closer with your heel on his upper back, hand still in his hair, “Fuck, Matt.” Your brows furrow with pleasure, lips parting as he moves up to suck on your clit.

“Tastes so good, baby. Just like I thought it would.” His eyes move to stare up at you as his tongue laps at your needy entrance.

You let out a whine, rolling your hips forward, “Feels so good.. fuck, fuck.” You lean back, your hand pressing into the desk for support, “Yesyesyes.”

You groan as he pulls away, biting your lip as you watch him free his cock from his boxers.

You lift your leg, moving to the edge of the desk more and you gasp, moaning out as you feel his cock slip into you. His hand slides up to your neck, gripping tightly as he pulls you in.

His lips crash on yours, your moans swapping together as his thrusts pick up. Your eyes flutter shut, whines and whimpers slipping from your lips, “Matt.. yes.” He rests his forehead against yours, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

He slides his hand around, tangling his fingers into your hair, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Seeing you..” he groans, “Seeing you walk around in those cute little business outfits. Fuck. You just.. look so fucking good.”

You reach up, pulling him in by the back of his neck, “I do it for you.” You crash your lips to his, swallowing his groans as he thrusts harder, “Fuck, fuck.” You squeeze around him, “D-don’t stop.”

Your hand slides down to his shoulder, your nails digging into it, “Fuck, M’gonna cum, please don’t-“

You tighten your leg around his waist as you feel yourself let go, moan after moan flying from your lips as he guides you through your high, “F-fuck, fuck.” His lips find yours, moving with yours with heat.

He bites down on your lip, tugging gently, “That’s it, there we go.”

Matt slides his hand to your cheek, pressing kisses back your jaw and down your neck, “I want you, all of you, baby.” He groans, “Fuck, I’ve needed you.”

“I’ve needed you.” You moan, tilting your head back to look up at him, “So fucking bad, Mr. Sturniolo.” You bite your lip, watching him smirk. He presses his lips to yours, “This is the only time you get to call me that, when I’m showing you who’s boss.”

You smile, gasping as you feel him thrust deeper, “What I want to show you who’s boss a time or two?”

“I can make an exception, Ms. Y/l/n.”

He crashes his lips into yours, his grip on your waist tightening, “Fuck, m’close.” He buries his face into your neck, your arms tightening around his, “Let me get you off.”

He leans up, stepping back and his eyes track you as you move down to your knees. You look up at him, lips immediately wrapping around the tip and working him into your mouth fully.

You bob your head, working what you can’t fit with your hand. He groans, his hand laying on your head as he bucks his hips, “Fuck, that’s it. That’s it.” He tilts his head back, eyes closed as he bites his lip.

A few bobs later, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his cum slipping down your throat as you swallow.

You lean back, smiling up at him and he pulls you to your feet, “You are the best secretary anyone could possibly get.” He presses his lips to yours and you smile, “So does that mean you’re going to finally ask me out on a real date?”

He nods as he fixes his pants, “I’ve been trying to all day.” He laughs, “But it’s just one thing after another today, like damn.”

You fix your underwear and pull your dress down, “Well, even though it took forever, I’d love to go on a real date with you.” You step forward and press your lips to his, “Also. If Melanie comes back, I am calling security, actually. I’m going to go call the desk right now and tell them not to let her through.”

Matt chuckles as he follows you out of his office, “You know what I’m really excited for now?”

You sit down at your desk and look at him, “What’s that?”

“Italy.”

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

189 notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 3 days ago

Text

the albatross || f.w.

summary: the albatross is the largest bird that can go years without landing; they spend their first 6 years of life flying over the ocean before coming to the land to mate. It is capable of traveling more than 10,000 miles in a single journey and circumnavigating the globe in 46 days. (he's been up in the air his whole life, but is finally able to land when he falls in love with you: alt, 4 times everyone noticed he loved you, 1 time you noticed he loved you too)

words: ~4.1k

warnings: TOOTH-ROOTTING FLUFF, CLICHE, your usual stuff yk

a/n: i’ve had that snippet above stuck in my notes for a year now and never made anything of it and thought hey i should do something about it. so here were are. also i can’t resist doing the 3x1/4x1/5x1 trope. its so superior. ngl tho writers block hit me kinda hard with this one so i struggled to finish…sorry in advance for my writing, idk how i feel ab the way this turned out

add yourself to my hp taglist here!

one

You were looking forward to today’s Transfiguration lesson.

Up until this point, McGonagall had you continue practicing nonverbal spells; having them carry over from sixth year because she wanted to emphasize their importance. In addition to that, you were set to start learning how to transfigure tortoises into trumpets. It was bound to be a loud but entertaining affair.

“I need you all to remember to focus,” she reminded at the start of class, “and please, refrain from playing your trumpets should you manage to successfully transform your tortoise—I’m looking at you, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley.”

“Aw, darn it,” you heard the twins chorus in defeat.

“Now, you will first review what you have in your notes, then practice individually. You may begin.”

A small, dusty green tortoise appeared on your desk, causing you to crack a tiny smile. You heard students muttering the incantation from all around you as they attempted the spell, one of them yelping in pain when their tortoise bit their finger.

“Careful, Longbottom,” the Professor warned.

You shook your head and smiled to yourself, patting your tortoise on the head. It seemed to just sigh in response.

Several minutes went by before someone broke your focus, poking your shoulder.

“Psst! Y/N!”

“What?” you hissed under your breath, looking over your left shoulder at Lee. “What do you want?”

He shrugged and passed you a slip of parchment. “For you.”

“Okay…”

You unfolded the paper and peered closer, examining the signature scrawl of none other than Fred.

You look gorgeous today, darling. And it’s quite distracting, if I’m being honest.

Scowling, you glanced over to see that Fred was shamelessly staring at you and shot him a pointed glare. He simply gave you a cheeky grin then looked back down. Scribbling out a snarky reply—I look gorgeous every day, you daft dimbo—you crumpled up the parchment and decided to chuck itat his head. Without sparing another glance, he reached up and smoothly caught it with one hand.

You muttered to yourself under your breath and refocused your gaze on your work.

Not even a few moments later, Lee was poking your shoulder again to signal that Fred had tossed the note back.

Your name is pretty, but it’d look prettier next to my last.

You know what else would look pretty? My fist in your face. -your reply

The exchange continued on, with him sending flirty notes, and you replying with half-flirty, half sarcastic remarks. But just as you were about to aim at Fred’s head for the nth time—

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Weasley, what in Godric’s name are you two doing?”

You froze in your spot. Professor McGonagall was standing right by your desk, note in hand with her eyebrows raised and arms crossed over her chest. “Er, I—”

“Is there anything you two would like to share with the class?”

“No, it’s—”

“Actually, Professor, there is,” Fred declared, standing up and marching over to where you were, taking the paper out of McGonagall’s hands and opening it. “Since she hasn’t gotten to read it yet, I shall.”

He cleared his throat and began to read.

“I’d face the storm, the darkest night,

With reckless heart and blazing light.

No cursed spell, no shadowed door,

Could shake the love I hold in store.

For you, I’d charge, both fierce and true—

My greatest courage lives in you.”

The classroom erupted into giggles as he finished with a bow, grinning proudly. It felt like your face was up in flames, if it wasn’t already burnt to a crisp. If Fred looked equally flustered you couldn’t tell at all, and he was masking it with that stupid cheeky look of his.

You were too mortified and focused on the possibility of receiving detention to notice that McGonagall was trying to hide her smile; taking away House points now in the very back of her mind.

Flitwick owed her 10 sickles.

two

“Oi! Y/N, wake up!”

Something fluffy smacked you straight across the face and you hissed in annoyance, sitting up and rubbing your eyes to identify your attacker.

“Okay, I’m—what the hell are you three doing in here? It’s 3 in the morning,” you grumbled. “If you get caught—”

“T’was Fred’s idea,” Lee said innocently and dropped the pillow, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Hey! Why are you pinning all this on me? That’s not fair,” the older twin demanded.

“Anyways, Y/N, the kitchens are empty.”

“No shit Sherlock, it’s the middle of the night. What do you all want?” you kept your voice down.

“We’re cooking up a storm tonight.”

“I hope you’re not referring to more Canary Creams?”

“No, we mean actual sweets,” Fred explained, taking your hand and pulling you out of bed. “Come on.”

The four of you crept down the staircase and through the halls as quietly as possible; George and Lee quietly talking to each other behind you while Fred remained by your side, hand still in yours. You were too tired and delirious to notice or care that he could’ve let go ages ago, but didn’t.

“Okay, we’re here,” George announced quietly and pushed open a grandiose, wooden door.

The usually bustling kitchen was dead silent so that all you could hear were each other’s slow breaths.

“Accio recipe,” Lee muttered quietly, and an old, worn maroon book came zooming towards him. He set it down onto the counter and propped it open, flipping through the pages and stopping on one particular recipe. “I hope you lot are up for some treacle tart.”

“I wish I could stay mad at you for smacking me in the face with that pillow, Lee,” you tried your hardest to suppress a laugh. “But you read my mind.”

“Okay then!” He clasped his hands, “let’s get to work.”

You picked one of the long wooden tables in the center of the room then got to work, quickly but efficiently rushing around the kitchen to collect what you needed. Fred rolled his sleeves up and leaned against the counter to watch you, in awe as you began measuring and pouring the ingredients with near-perfect accuracy.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?” you finally looked up and noticed that he hadn’t been doing anything.

“Sorry, you’re just distracting,” Fred sent you a wink, and you scoffed. “Okay, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’ll help you.”

You fell into a silent but comfortable routine afterwards, evenly splitting up the work to finish preparing the tarts in less time. Neither of you noticed how you gradually inched closer to one another as you did so, shoulders brushing together every time you reached over to grab something or continue mixing the batter.

“Hold on a minute, there’s some flour right—” Fred paused, thumb grazing your cheekbone. You felt a jolt of electricity where his skin brushed over yours. “—there.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, face suddenly feeling too hot even though the kitchens were far from it.

“Always my pleasure,” he smiled, oblivious to your flustered state.

Lee was standing with George a few rows away, focus switching between you two and the first batches of treacle tart that were now in the ovens, slowly beginning to bake. The distinct scent of sweet syrup and berries soon began wafting through the air, filling the room with a sweet and tantalizing aroma.

“They can’t keep their hands off each other,” he grinned knowingly. “They’re standing just inches apart…they have the entire table to themselves and yet they stand like that.”

“And they say they’re just friends. I call bullshit,” said George, watching as Fred said something to you and you rolled your eyes, whacking him with your wooden spoon. Fred tugged you forward in response, trapping you in his strong arms as you let out a faint giggle, protesting for him to let you go. It wasn’t until he tilted his head down and you begrudgingly pressed a kiss to his cheek that he finally released you from his hold, looking as smug as ever.

“10 galleons says they’re getting married in the next two years.”

“15 galleons.”

“You’re on, mate.”

three

DA practices were now everyone’s sole source of motivation. They had finally started work on Patronuses, which they had been very keen to practice, though, as Harry kept reminding you all that producing one in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they weren’t under threat was quite different from producing one when under threat, like by a Dementor.

You exchanged a soft smile with Cho, admiring her silvery swan-shaped Patronus before attempting to refocus on your own work; on the last several tries you hardly managed more than a cloudy, wispy form.

Closing your eyes, you recalled the time you had Quidditch practice on a snow day. Oliver ended practice a bit early (Angelina did have to convince him a bit though) and you spent the rest of that time pelting one another with snowballs and zipping around in the air, laughter echoing across the space. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that carefree.

“Expecto Patronum!” Excitement began to build up in you but your shoulders slumped in defeat when again, just a thin wisp of silver smoke came out of your wand tip. “Damn it.”

“Y/N, you’ve got to think of something happy,” Harry reminded you.

“But I did,” you exhaled, voice strained. “I don’t get it. I thought…”

“Maybe it wasn’t strong enough. Try a new memory,” he suggested, “do you have anything else that might work?”

“Well, there is one…I don’t know if it’s my happiest, but it is one of them, and it is strong…”

“Then try that,” he said kindly. “You can do this.” You nodded and he walked away to help Neville, who was also struggling to cast his Patronus.

Readjusting your wand in your hand, you closed your eyes once again and allowed the new memory to fill your mind.

The first few weeks after the end of term and the start of the summer holidays were always the hardest. As badly as you missed home and your parents, you also missed constantly being around your friends and the Weasley family. At this point it had been three weeks since you’d seen Fred; you never went longer than that without seeing him.

You and your parents had spent three blissful weeks traveling around France. From exploring the lavender fields in Provence, smelling the fresh sea air and seeing the breathtaking Mont-Saint-Michel castle in Normandy, to biting into pillowy soft pastries in Paris, you did it all. But you still felt that distinct ache to be back at Hogwarts with your close friends.

“The Burrow!” you exclaimed, Floo powder in hand. Glowing green flames engulfed your body and then you were standing outside your third home in mere seconds, giddy with excitement.

“THERE SHE IS!” you heard several voices shout with delight. Your best friends immediately came bursting through the door and stampeding towards you. Fred was the first to reach you, positively glowing with happiness as he swept you into a tight bear hug, spinning you around. He attacked you with repeated kisses to your temple then cheeks as he said how glad he was to finally see you. He was clutching you so tight that you almost lost your breath, but you were so happy to see him as well that you couldn’t care less.

“Oi, we’re here too, lovebirds!” you heard Ron shout. You laughed and pulled away from Fred’s embrace to go greet everyone else. As you were hugging Ginny you made eye contact with Fred, that gleaming look still in his eyes. Your heart felt so full at that moment, you thought it would burst.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” you shouted. A flash of silvery-blue light emitted from your wand and a dainty squirrel burst forward. You smiled to yourself as Harry complimented your work.

But what surprised you more was the small bird swooping in from above—it caught sight of your squirrel Patronus and started chasing it around the Room of Requirement, their forms glowing brightly. Several others stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle, confused but amazed.

“Pretty cool, innit,” you heard a voice say from besides you. You turned to make eye contact with Fred, who was looking at you with amusement.

“Yeah…is that a sparrow?” you pointed up at his Patronus, which was still chasing yours around the room and leaving a trail of glitter behind itself as it did so.

“It’s a magpie,” said Fred. “Although I also thought it was a sparrow at first.”

“Well, it looks like they like each other…”

“Art imitates life, right? Is that what they say?”

“Something like that, I guess,” you laughed softly, leaning into him. “It’s beautiful.”

“What did you think of?” he asked. “Beating Umbridge’s arse to a pulp? Just say the words and I’ll gladly help with that.”

You snorted. “No, I tried that last time but I guess it wasn’t strong enough. I don’t know how this one could’ve been happier than that.”

“Then whatever it was, it must’ve been pretty strong.”

“Definitely…” The scene flashed across your mind again, and you felt heat crawling up your cheeks. “it was.”

“His Patronus can’t seem to let go of hers,” Hermione whispered from the other side of the room; hers and Ginny’s otter and horse Patronuses were gracefully gliding around them. “You know what that means…”

“I haven’t a clue,” Ginny responded as she glanced over Fred, who now had an arm around you. “Why’s that so important?”

“Because, Gin!” she whisper-shouted. “Magpies hunt squirrels!”

“Okay…what’s the correlation there?” Ginny was now confused.

“He’s in love with her, of course! I was reading up on Patronuses last week; when someone has feelings of deep affection for someone else, either their Patronuses change to match or they produce what’s like an opposite to the person they love. Hence the hunter and prey pairing.”

“You just figured out they love each other?”

“No, but this just confirms it,” the bushy-haired girl’s mouth stretched into a wide grin.

four

It felt like hours since you had last seen the light of day. Right now you were waist-deep in assignments, preparing for your mind-numbing History of Magic project that was due the next morning. Sleep was threatening to pull you under and it took everything you had not to slump over and doze off on the spot.

“Ange,” you yawned and cupped a hand over your mouth, “did you finish the revisions yet?”

“Almost,” she returned your tired yawn and slid the parchment she was working on over to you. “Do you mind checking this over for me?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, peering down at her tidy handwriting and picking up your quill. You rubbed your eyes and drew out a long breath. “Godric’s sake, what time is it?”

“Quarter to midnight,” Katie responded, jotting something down in her notepad, “I think we’re almost done…”

“...these damn revisions are taking bloody forever,” you groaned, placing your chin in your hand, “almost more than the time we took researching.”

“I despise history,” said Alicia.

“Hear, hear,” you and Angelina said tiredly.

All of a sudden you heard a rustle and the screech of someone pulling a chair out next to you. The comforting smell of broomsticks and cinnamon instantly hit your nose, which didn’t help with you already wanting to doze off.

“There’s my Y/N,” Fred greeted warmly. His hand-knitted maroon Weasley jumper hung loosely off his toned frame, bringing out the color in his eyes and cheeks. He looked painfully attractive in everything, you realized.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Not when I know you aren’t,” he said plainly. “It’s late, but you’re here, right? So that’s why I’m here as well.”

You seemed to be completely oblivious to the way he kept staring at you as you continued to work. He couldn't help but stare; he found it rather endearing, the way you'd sigh every so often when stuck on a difficult problem and how you'd get this crease between your brows because you were deep in concentration.

After several minutes you finally glanced up, a quizzical look on your face as you realized he was still watching you so intently. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” he smiled softly, reaching over to briefly cup your cheek. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie exchanged knowing looks at this. “Just looking out for you, of course.”

The flickering lanterns overhead cast a warm golden light over the room, illuminating his features in a dim and hazy glow. There was an unmistakably soft and wistful sort of look in his eyes and you felt your heart race the longer his eyes stayed on you. Did he always look at you that way? You couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at you with anything other than admiration and delight but then again, Fred was known to be very open with those he cared for.

Another hour went by and by this point you were fast asleep, head leaning against your arms on the table and parts of your hair spilling across your forehead. If he didn’t know any better, Fred would’ve thought you were an angel, part Veela, or something along those lines. Was there anything better? he thought to himself. If there was, that’s exactly what she is.

Fred slid his jumper off and as carefully as possible, slid it under your head so that you had something soft to rest on and wouldn’t wake up complaining that there were ink stains on your skin. He took the quill from your outstretched fist and set it by your side, and wordlessly began putting your things into your bag for you.

It was another two hours until you eventually stirred awake but he stayed, quietly waiting and watching; relishing in the peace and comfort that he knew only your company could bring.

plus one

It probably would’ve been a wise idea to heed Katie’s advice and not overwork yourself; even Hermione had said you clearly looked exhausted and needed a break from studying. But being as stubborn as you were, you didn’t listen, and now you were starting to feel the consequences of your actions.

So here you were now alone in the girls’ dormitory, curled up in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, pounding headache that felt like it would split your brain in two, along with crippling nausea. Despite your stomach grumbling after having skipped out on breakfast and lunch, the mere thought of eating made you feel even more sick.

All you wanted to do in that moment was crawl into a hole and fall asleep for several centuries.

Realizing that sitting there doing nothing wouldn’t help, you decided to at the very least, open your Charms textbook and get caught up on the past few reading assignments. You mentally reminded yourself to thank Angelina for standing in today and taking notes for you; the girl was saving you hours’ worth of work that likely would’ve had you collapsing all over again.

A loud CRASH from somewhere nearby caused you to jump slightly and almost slam the book closed on your fingers. Glancing around at the sudden noise, you were about to assume it was Peeves being chased by Filch after causing trouble (you definitely didn’t experience this from having helped him and the twins out with a prank in which you chucked a Dungbomb into his office). But then you remembered they never directly entered the girls’ dormitories and laughed to yourself.

The door creaked open and Fred’s all-too-familiar figure stumbled through, breathing hard with his hands behind his back. He was shifting from foot to foot and he looked kind of…nervous?

“Fred?”

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you all day,” his face broke into a bashful grin, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…alright…”

“Well, I got you something,” said Fred, and quickly handed you a sweet-smelling bouquet of flowers. “I hope you like these, it took a while to grow them. Longbottom helped me out a bit.”

“T-these are…” you stammered, pulse racing. The flowers shone brightly under the afternoon light; they were probably the prettiest things you’d seen in, well, forever.

“—your favorite, I know,” he finished your sentence.

“But how did y—”

“It’s the same kind of flower as the dried ones that are in the bookmark you use for all your classes,” he explained, still slightly out of breath as he sat down at the edge of your bed, reaching for your hand. “It’s the color of your favorite wool hat. It’s the color of the jumper I bought, I told you it’s because I liked how my eyes went with it but really, it’s because it reminded me of you. It’s what I smelled in George and I’s Amortentia in Potions. It’s you, Y/N, it’s all you and it has always brought me back to you. It always will, every single time.”

Suddenly, the realization slammed into you with a force of a Bludger traveling a hundred miles an hour.

Fred Weasley loved you. You loved Fred Weasley.

And it had taken you forever to notice.

He sat by your side and reached for your hand, taking it in his and interlocking your fingers together like it was normal; like he had done so dozens of times before. Because he had, but something about this one made your heart skip an extra beat and all the words you wanted to say leave your brain instantly.

“I look terrible,” you turned your face into his chest so that your cheek was now resting against the fabric of his jumper, “and you might get sick too. You should go…”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled, sliding his arms around you, “I’ve got all day. Snape can take my delightfully dimwitted Potions essay and shove it up his a—”

You chuckled a bit at this and took that moment to glance up at him—he was still gazing at you longingly. You’d never seen him look at anyone or anything that way; unless you counted the excited look he got when Hogwarts had its annual holiday feast and piles of food appeared on the tables. Or that look he got after winning a Quidditch match.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” you asked, shaking your head. “For taking as long as I did to realize that I’m in love with you. Everyone was practically screaming at me about it and yet I still couldn’t put the pieces together and see.”

That signature grin was back on his face. “You’re in love with me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Weasley—”

He grinned, stopping what you were going to say next by closing the gap and sealing his lips over yours. Now it wasn’t the nausea that had your head whirling around; it was the feeling of him kissing you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, and it was intoxicating. He was right there all along—your best friend for as long as you could remember—and suddenly you couldn’t seem to register anything else other than the fact that you wanted to stay in the moment until you completely lost your breath.

“Fred, I told you, you’re going to get sick,” you exhaled as you pulled apart, “I know you don’t want that.”

“And I told you I don’t care.” He brought you back in and kissed you a second, then third time, “all the more excuse to spend time with you.”

(He did get sick the following day, leaving a disgruntled Hermione to take care of not just you, but him as well.)

a/n pt 2: yes the poem was done by chatgpt. i’m horrible at writing normally, and even worse at writing poetry. sorry yall LOL. also can you tell i love writing cheesy monologues. yeah. and also i’m sorry for the cringe ending

tags: @miissasa @bittermileymilez @daisydark @brinachiii @foreverthemaraudersera @viharbinger @ladyclay @apileofschist @arkofblake @lizzyrose200 @4ngeltrumpettt

#fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp imagine #fred weasley fic #hogwarts

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undiagnosedcruelty · 2 days ago

Text

Felix’s Cookies Have a Side Effect

Pairing: roommate!skz x GenderNeutral!reader

Genre: Crackfic

summary: Felix’s cookies were supposed to bring happiness—not turn you into a walking, talking aegyo machine.

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Content Warning: light cursing, crack humor, cursed levels of aegyo, food-based magic gone wrong, secondhand embarrassment, and the emotional trauma of eating unseasoned chicken.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I WAS PHYSICALLY HURTING WHILE WRITING THE AEGYO PARTS, PLS DONT ATTACK ME FOR THE CRINGE💔💔💔

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION───NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO REAL LIFE EVENTS.

You should have known better. You really should have.

The golden rule of living with eight chaotic men was simple: never consume anything without questioning its origins first. But when Felix presented you with a freshly baked cookie—eyes sparkling with excitement, dimples popping as he all but shoved the plate into your hands—you didn’t even hesitate.

Big mistake.

At first, everything seemed fine. The cookie was warm, gooey, and filled with just the right amount of chocolate chips. The moment it melted on your tongue, you understood why Felix had that smug, cat-who-caught-the-canary expression. The guy knew his baking could end wars.

But then.

It started as a tingle in your chest—subtle, almost pleasant. Then, a strange, fizzy bubbling sensation crawled up your throat, like soda pop had replaced your blood. Before you could even process the weirdness—

"Aegyo mode activated."

"Oppa~~~!" you whined, gripping Han’s hoodie sleeve with both hands, voice unnaturally high-pitched.

The entire room went silent.

Eight pairs of eyes locked onto you. Blinking. Processing.

Han, mid-bite into his own cookie, choked so violently he nearly fell off the couch. Changbin clutched his chest like he had been physically struck, eyes wide with sheer betrayal. Minho? Minho had already turned on his heel and was walking out of the room without a word.

"I—" you started, panic rising in your throat. But once again, the words that escaped your lips were not yours.

"Jisungieeee~~~," you cooed, latching onto his arm like a needy toddler. "I missed you sooooo much today! Did you miss me too~?"

A deep, horrified gasp left your mouth as your hands shot up to cover it.

The damage, however, was already done.

Han collapsed. Not in a dramatic way—no, literally, his knees buckled, and he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, wheezing so hard he could barely breathe.

"NO—NO WAY," he gasped between bouts of laughter, clutching his stomach. "WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS THIS SO CURSED?"

Seungmin, who had been quietly scrolling through his phone a moment ago, tilted his head and observed you like some kind of foreign lab experiment. "...Are you feeling okay? Did Felix poison you?"

"I DIDN'T!" Felix wailed, his freckles scrunching up in distress. He bounced on his feet, looking wildly between you and Chan. "It was supposed to make them happy! I put extra sugar and—"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Chan groaned, already dragging a hand down his face, his stress levels visibly skyrocketing. "Felix, what the hell did you put in them?"

Felix pouted, shuffling guiltily. "...Uhhh. Maybe a little enchanted vanilla extract?"

Chan narrowed his eyes, looking like he was seconds away from deleting existence itself. " Where exactly did you get enchanted vanilla extract!?"

Felix let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding eye contact. "Uh… I found this one magic shop online? The sketchy one next to the convenience store?"

Chan’s face blanked. "Felix. Please tell me you didn’t buy cooking ingredients from a store that also sells cursed objects and possibly hexed jewelry."

Felix winced. "... It was on sale?"

The room exploded into chaos.

”I THOUGHT IT WAS A SCAM OKAY AND I WANTED TO TRY IT!” Felix said on his defense, his hands shooting up in panic.

Hyunjin dropped to his knees, laughing so hard he had to clutch the couch for support. Jeongin had his phone out, already recording like a TMZ reporter documenting a celebrity scandal.

Minho, who had initially left, walked back in just to shake his head at you in pure, silent disappointment—before promptly turning around and leaving again.

Meanwhile, you were suffering.

Your body felt possessed. Every movement unnatural, exaggerated—your arms automatically folding into uwu poses like you had been forcibly programmed into a kawaii anime character. Every attempt to speak came out in a ridiculous, saccharine tone, as if you had become a walking, talking aegyo machine.

You clenched your fists, desperate to fight it. "Hyunjin, you—" Hyunjin raised a brow, intrigued.

"...You're sooooooo handsome and talented~~!"

A beat of silence.

"NOOOO!" you shrieked, slamming both hands over your mouth in horror.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. His lips trembled. He backed away like you had just summoned an ancient evil. "I—I don't like this. Take it back."

Seungmin was crying with laughter, clutching Jeongin’s shoulder for support. "I've never seen something so cursed in my life."

"Felix," Chan exhaled, pressing his fingers into his temples like he was getting a migraine. "How long does this last?"

Felix chuckled nervously. "Ehhhh… maybe a few hours?"

"A FEW HOURS?!" You collapsed onto the couch, face buried in a throw pillow, your tiny, adorably furious hands gripping it for dear life.

Jeongin wiped a tear from his eye, still wheezing. "Wait—wait—so they're basically stuck in perma-aegyo mode?"

You lifted your head to glare at him. Or tried to. Unfortunately, your body decided to puff your cheeks out like an angry hamster instead.

Jisung lost it all over again, doubling over with laughter.

"I’m gonna die," Changbin choked, wiping at his eyes. "This is the best day of my life."

Felix, now feeling at least a little guilty, reached over to pat your head. "At least you're super cute?"

Your soul screamed inside your body.

Chan sighed so deeply it sounded like he was giving up on life. "Alright, Felix, you and I are figuring out how to reverse this."

Felix nodded furiously. "Right!" Meanwhile, the rest of the members? They were thriving.

Seungmin had already started editing the footage Jeongin took, adding dramatic background music. Hyunjin sat in a corner, staring blankly at the ceiling like he had just witnessed a full-blown exorcism.

Jisung? He had opened up a notes app and was typing every cursed phrase you had said for future blackmail.

From the other room, Minho’s voice rang out: "If this isn't fixed by tomorrow, I’m moving out."

Your life was ruined. And all because you trusted Felix’s cookies.

────────────────────────────────────────

Chan was a man of solutions—not problems. So, after gathering all the members into the kitchen, he stood at the center with arms crossed, looking like an exhausted single father trying to discipline eight feral children. His jaw was tense, his brows knit together, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his bicep as he exhaled through his nose. "Okay. We need to fix this. Felix, what do we know about enchanted vanilla extract?"

Felix, who had been nervously shifting from foot to foot, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh… it's supposed to enhance positive emotions? Like, amplify happiness. But I think maybe… I added too much?"

"No shit," Minho deadpanned, cradling a mug of black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him from spontaneous combustion. He took a long, slow sip, his eyes half-lidded with pure resignation. "This entire situation is proof that I need new roommates."

Changbin, ever the problem solver, raised a hand. "So, what if we make them eat something really bitter? Would that cancel it out?"

Jisung perked up, eyes lighting with mischief. "Oh! Like how people shock themselves out of hiccups! Maybe we just need to surprise them."

Hyunjin gasped dramatically, placing a delicate hand over his chest like an aristocrat in distress. "We should SCARE them! Like… like drop a fake spider on them or—"

"Absolutely not." Chan shot him down immediately, the dad-mode in full force.

"Wait, wait," Seungmin interrupted, eyes gleaming with something sinister. "I saw this thing online where if you eat raw garlic, it resets your taste buds. What if we force them to eat something super strong?"

Chan turned to Felix with an arched brow. "How do we feel about this?"

Felix winced, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded for chewing a shoe. "I mean… it could work…? But if the magic is emotion-based, we might need something even stronger than just bitter food…"

"Like pain," Minho said casually, not even looking up from his coffee.

Silence. Everyone slowly turned to look at Minho. He blinked. "What?"

"hyung," Jeongin whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You scare me."

Before you could protest, Seungmin struck like a viper, shoving a whole spoonful of wasabi into your mouth without warning.

Your soul left your body.

The moment the fiery paste hit your tongue, your entire existence was reduced to a single, unrelenting sensation: PAIN. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as a molten inferno exploded across your taste buds, searing every last ounce of joy from your being. Your back arched like you had been struck by lightning, fingers twitching violently.

The room went still. Everyone leaned in, watching with bated breath.

And then—

"Omooo, it's so spicy~~~!" you wailed, hands flapping dramatically like a wind-up toy. "My tongue is burniiiiiing~~! Oppa, save me~~~!"

Jisung collapsed.

Hyunjin face-planted onto the floor, muffling his screams of laughter into the hardwood.

Chan just dragged a hand down his face, looking like he aged ten years in ten seconds.

"Felix," he sighed, voice drained of all life, "get back in the kitchen. We need a Plan B."

After the failed wasabi experiment, Chan had officially had enough. He stood at the counter, gripping its edge like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, the way one might prepare before dealing with absolute nonsense—which, unfortunately, was his life now.

"Okay," Chan started, voice firm, arms crossed. "Clearly, pain isn’t working."

"You don’t say," you grumbled. Or at least, you tried to. Instead, what came out was: "Aiyaaaa, I’m so tiiiiiiired~~~ Someone carry meee~~!"

Jisung had to physically hold himself up against the counter, face buried in his arms to muffle the wheezing sounds escaping him. Hyunjin, still recovering from the previous attack on his sanity, simply turned to face the wall, as if that would somehow shield him from the horror.

Seungmin, still recording, zoomed in on Chan’s soul leaving his body.

"Felix." Chan turned to him, voice dangerously calm. "We need a new plan. Now."

Felix winced. "Okay, okay! So if the enchanted vanilla is boosting emotions, we need to counteract it with something that suppresses them!"

Jeongin raised a brow. "Like what? Depression?"

Felix perked up. "Actually, yes!"

The room went silent. Minho blinked. "You want us to make them depressed?"

"Not like that!" Felix waved his hands. "Just… we need to feed them something that dampens emotions, kind of like a sedative."

Seungmin hummed, tapping his chin. "So… bland food?"

Felix nodded. "Exactly! If we give them something so dull that it cancels out the hyper emotions, maybe it’ll balance things out!"

Jisung perked up. "I have an idea."

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the scent of… absolutely nothing.

Felix, Chan, and Seungmin had prepared a dish so mind-numbingly boring that just looking at it made everyone feel empty inside.

Boiled chicken.

Plain white rice.

Unsalted, unseasoned, completely dry steamed broccoli.

Not a single grain of salt in sight.

Han looked at the plate in pure horror. "This is evil."

Changbin poked at the chicken with his fork. "It’s so… pale. It looks like it’s never known happiness."

Hyunjin leaned down and sniffed it. "I smell nothing. This is worse than death."

Meanwhile, you sat at the table, arms crossed, pouting aggressively. "Hmph! Why do I have to eat this yucky foooood~~? I want something yummy~~!" Jisung physically had to leave the room.

"Eat." Chan shoved a spoon into your hands.

You glared at him. Tried to. Your body betrayed you again, making your eyes go big and watery. "Oppaaaa, feed me~~!"

Chan slammed his hands on the table. "EAT THE DAMN CHICKEN."

With great difficulty, you took a bite. The moment the flavorless abyss of boiled chicken touched your tongue, something shifted. Your fingers twitched. Your uwu posture straightened. The bubbling sensation in your chest fizzled out.

The room held its breath.

You swallowed. Slowly, cautiously, you opened your mouth and said, "That was disgusting."

Silence.

Then—

"IT WORKED!" Felix cheered, throwing his arms in the air.

Hyunjin collapsed onto the floor, hands covering his face. "Oh my god, it’s over."

Jisung was still laughing, but now in relief. "I was gonna have nightmares about that."

Chan exhaled the deepest sigh of his life. "Felix, never again."

Felix chuckled sheepishly. "No more enchanted ingredients. Got it."

Minho clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Let this be a lesson. Never trust Felix’s cookies."

You shuddered. "Never again."

Moral of the story: never accept food without questioning its existence.

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #imagine #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #crack fic

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sibsteria · 3 days ago

Note

hi! just saw your 2025 rec list and that you write for spencer! i beg for a spence best friends/coworkers to lovers short lil sm sm (oneshot) if you're okay w that! also idk if you have a smosh/spencer series in the works but if you ever write one i can confirm I'll be your biggest fan love your fics can't wait to read more :)

@people-arelovers

Must be love on the brain...

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

Masterlist

a/n yes! absolutely, hello, hi, here I am- writing most of this in line for Pitbull tickets, dale (also combining two requests here, and I will absolutely be doing a series at some point fyi!)

Warnings/Content: alcohol, light angst, embarrassment, hinted pining, kissing, not proofread

Summary: A work's night out leads to drunken confessions...

''You don't have to drink to have a good time, y'know?'' Shayne shrugs at Spencer, his decision wary on joining the small group as he wasn't quite feeling up to a rager.

''There's not really a point in going to a bar if I don't drink, I'll just be surrounded by drunk people and feeling left out.'' He chuckles, he probably won't come anyway, his gaming chair is calling his name pretty loudly.

''Y/n is coming.'' Shayne throws it out there, he knew of Spencer's pining feelings towards the girl, a last ditch effort to get him to think about coming.

''Yeah, and I'll be boring and not drinking and- it's stupid.'' He runs a hand through his hair, thinking about you, how much he does in fact, love being around you.

''You know she doesn't care about that stuff?'' Shayne could almost feel himself rolling his eyes at his friend, how stubborn.

''Yeah...'' That's just one reason why he liked you so much, why you were his best friend.

Meanwhile, you were sat at your desk, having a similar conversation.

''I honestly don't think he's going to come.'' You smile, popping a piece of homemade hard candy Garrett had made.

''He might?'' Tommy smirks at you, he knew how you felt about the curly haired man.

''When has he ever, ever, come to a bar with us?'' You giggle at Tommy, shaking your head.

''There's a first time for everything.'' He brings up his hands, one forming an '0' and the other forming an 'I' before he puts them tog-

''Tommy! No!'' You whisper yell, you never know who could be around.

''Oh, come on, you want it. Live a little, Y/n, sweep that little nerd off his feet.'' He raises his eyebrows as if to say 'think about it'.

''Someone as funny and pretty and as cool as him wouldn't even think twice about me, we are just friends.'' You sigh at your own reality, how you wish it wasn't true, but beggars can't be choosers and at least you get to see his face nearly every day.

''You are so stupid.'' He saw the way he looked at you, as if you had hung the stars just for him, why are you always so stubborn? At least you and Spencer have that in common.

''Shut up!'' You squint at him, grumbling before you turn to your computer, time to get some work done before you can go home and shower.

You were sat at your vanity mirror, painstakingly applying some makeup so you look some variation of decent- the bags under your eyes telling a story of fatigue.

Your phone beeps out a message.

Message from: Spimgler

< Hey, sitting this one out, have a great time- miss you! >

Of course, but you couldn't blame him, a night in bed sounds a lot better than unwanted mingling with strangers right now but Tommy would have your head if you didn't come.

You down a glass of wine for your nerves whilst getting ready, you hate getting hit on and it’s not uncommon.

“Told you he wouldn’t come.” You grin at Tommy, you being right once again, although you wish you weren’t- maybe if he was here you wouldn’t feel so out of your depth.

“Yeah, whatever.” Tommy hands you a drink, he had been there a little while before you arrived.

The drunker you let yourself get, the more your mind wouldn’t let up on thoughts of Spencer. The smell of his shampoo as he leans into on one of the couches, the softness of his touch as hugs you when it all gets a bit too much to handle, the teasing smiles he shot at you like bullets when he tries to make you laugh. You get more and more sour as the night progresses, shooting down each potent bomb of liquor and strongly poured drinks.

As expected, just as you had unfortunately lost your group, you were approached by a man. But long gone was the slightly sober discomfort and combative attitude you would have once wore, a drunken mess of social embarrassment lies in its place.

“You know, my friend Spencer is so pretty-“ You hiccup, leaning with your elbow on the bar and cheek in your hand.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to dance with me?” The guy raises an eyebrow at you.

“I want to dance with Spencer! God, I miss him so damn much, I love him…I’m- I love him a lot-“ You frown, sniffling a little, why wasn’t he here right now.

“Okay…” He looks around the room, wondering if you were here all alone.

“Need to see him so bad, can you call Spencer?” You yawn, giggling as you imagine his adorable little voice.

“Not-not really, I don’t know this dude-“ He’s urgently scanning around now, he swore he had seen you with some people- a lanky brunette, a shorter blonde guy, a blonder girl, two dark haired ladies who were screaming at the table together where he first saw you-

“He’s so smart, y’know? So pretty and God, I wish he knew it. He’s funny…too funny for me- I love Spence-“ The man you were currently borderline harassing came into quick thanks as the lanky brunette neared you, clearly recognising you and starts to laugh at your words.

“Okay, okay. C’mon Y/n, stop professing your love for Spencer to strangers.” Tommy mouths a ‘sorry’ at the guy and he just half smiles, awkwardly- it was his choice to approach the plastered girl at the bar, anyways.

“Spencer…” You whine, dragged away by Tommy, your cheeks are flushed and you can’t even walk straight.

“Want me to call him, to come get you?” Although you harboured strong, strong feelings for the man- he knew he was also your best friend and could handle you in this state, and would also drop anything to help you. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to meddle and progress things along- a hope you would possibly spill your guts to him. It was no secret that Spencer returned your feelings, except to you.

“Yes!” You scream in excitement, he walks you outside for some fresh air, you slump down on the pavement. Tommy calls Spencer from your phone, he’s more likely to pause whatever game he is playing to answer your call.

“Y/n, hey, you oka-“ His voice holds a happy tone as he answered.

“It’s Tommy, hey look, could you- stop lying down on the dirty street!” He yelps at you as you don’t feel like sitting upright anymore, “-could you come and pick her up? She’s a bit of a mess and honestly past the point of enjoying herself, just want her home safe.

“Be there in ten.” Is all he says before buttoning the phone down, Tommy sighing in relief- he just didn’t want you to end your hurt- you were actually pretty funny right now all things considered.

“Y/n, honey, he’s on his way.” He sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder, comforting you.

“Who?” You look at his completely quizzical.

“Spencer-“

“Spencer’s coming?!” You smile, dreamily, squealing a little, oh yeah, this was going to be a perfect disaster.

It had been just under ten minutes as he pulls up a metre or so away from the two of them, getting out of his car and heading straight for his best friend.

“Thank you, thank you! She needs a whole lotta’ rest.” Tommy stands up and tried to bring you up with him but you whine out, not wanting to move just yet. “I am so sorry for what you may be about to go through.” Although he’s smiling, indicating he is not sorry at all.

“Have a good night.” Spencer nods curtly, locking his car just in case before sitting next to you.

“When is Spencer getting here?” You mumble into your arms, head in your knees.

“Peekaboo.” An airy tone to his voice as your head shoots up.

“Oh- Spence!” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him tightly, though you had done it many times before- he still couldn’t help his heart as it beat a little faster.

“H-hey, beautiful, you doing okay?” You giggle as he talks to you, beautiful, he says.

“You’re the beautiful one, stupid.” You lay your head on his shoulder

“Oh, yeah?” He’s caught a little off guard.

“Mhm, pretty, pretty…” You sigh as you nuzzle into him, jesus, how much did you drink.

“I’m pretty to you?” He automatically goes for the teasing avenue, combatting how he feels with a joke.

“Obviously, I wouldn’t be in love with you if you weren’t.” You scoff as if it’s common knowledge, his mouth gapes open, he’s…what?

“What?” He repeats his thoughts.

“What?” You yawn, still happy as a baby on his shoulder.

“You just said- you’re in love with me?” He asks it as a question, you probably just mean a friendly ‘I love you’.

“Yeah…but you don’t like me back though, so it’s silly of me. You’re just so pretty and amazing and- I’ve loved you since I first met you…” You look as if you’re falling asleep, Spencer’s head is a flurry full of confusion- he feels like he should be hyperventilating right now.

“I…” This was definitely a talk for sober Y/n, no matter how much he wanted to tell her he loved her right now.

“It’s okay…I’m used to it.” It’s like you can’t quite recognise this is reality and not a nightly dream of yours.

“I’ll drive you home? Or-“

“Can we have a sleep over?” You blink up at him, wondering why you are seeing three Spencers.

“Sure…” He bites his lip, you were extremely cute like this, usually you would be so stubborn and nonchalant and cool.

The drive back is surprisingly uneventful, you practically passed out in the passenger seat, head against the window after he had told you you cant hug him whilst he drives.

“Your car smells good…smells like you.” You smiled at nothing, a patter of rain beginning to hits the windows, lulling you into serenity. Jesus, you can’t keep saying that shit whilst he’s driving, now all he wants to do is look at you and listen to the adoring words. Was how he smelled comforting to you?

He had managed to get you through his front door easier than expected, you were willing to follow his every word.

He gave you some privacy as you haphazardly dressed yourself up in a backup pair of pyjamas you had left at his house, he hears a few bangs and nearly opens the door to check on you but ultimately decides maybe that’s not the best idea- he wants to respect your privacy as always.

“Spence!” You shout, laying on his bed already, you were so ready to sleep.

“You ready to go to sleep? You got a brutal hangover waiting for you tomorrow.” He grins at you as your pout into the air.

“Ugh.”

“I’ll let you settle down.” He whispers, attempting to walk away. You slept in the same bed more than once before, whenever you had slept over but…he just knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep next to you tonight- repeating what you had said to him over and over again, overthinking and-

“Can you stay a little? ‘Till I fall asleep?” How can he say no as your sweet, tired voice tweets up at him.

“Till you fall asleep.” He confirms, his heard stammering as he moves to sit next to you, back against the headboard as you lay, you inch towards him touching his arm with you nose and he wants to explode. He can feel the air you breathe through your nose, hitting his arm as you slowly fell into slumber, a subtle smile on your face.

What was going to happen tomorrow?

Your head throbs as you stir, already feeling the nausea set in, your tongue sticking to your mouth due to how dehydrated you were. You smell something that you recognise, something that’s not your house…oh, fuck.

Memories from last night violently hammer at your head, or was that just the hangover? You fucked up so hard, you told him you love him? What were you thinking, clearly you weren’t at all.

Your eyes blink open, his bedside table catching your attention. There stood a big glass of water, some painkillers and…a note?

Good morning,

If you are reading this, take these pills before you leave the room, I can hear your headache from here.

-S

Was he going to be angry? Upset? Uncomfortable? Oh, god, you have ruined your whole relationship with him.

You do as he had said, slamming the pain relief in your mouth before washing the pills down with two thirds of the glass.

Maybe you could sneak out, facing your bad, bad drunk decisions seemed like a nightmare.

You creep to the pile of your stuff in the corner of the room, slowly changing into your clothes, not putting your shoes on yet just in case.

You pry open the door, peeking at the space outside, no sign of Spencer.

You quietly move towards the front door, you had gotten away with it- a loud creak sounds from a floorboard beneath you- nearly, you had nearly gotten away with it?

“Y/n?” He follows the sound to its source. “Are you…leaving?” He can’t blame you for wanting to.

“Um, sorry. It’s just-“

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean it- it’s okay.” Forever the respectful man he was, he never lashes out, never got angry- he just…pretended he was okay.

“Mean what?” You want to know what he thought, if you had embarrassed yourself as much as you thought.

“Look, last night, you were drunk and it’s fine- you were just being the best friend you are- you don’t need to feel sorry about it.”

“Spence….” You put down your shoes and your bag.

“You said you were in love with me, but you didn’t mean it like that, it’s okay.” The look in his eyes told you he was not okay, was he…upset?

“I-“

“Just- I’ll drive you home, okay?” He half smiles, trying to look normal, the room goes silent as you decide it’s all or nothing.

“I meant it…by the way.” You hold your breath, if you had read the situation wrong you basically just doubled down on the burning crash that was your friendship.

“You- what?” He stops putting his shoes on, looking up at you.

“I…I am, in love with you…” Your chest heaves a little faster as the tension in the room was becoming too much.

“You…are?” Shit, you had misread it.

“Okay, no, it’s fine- just drive me home, forget what I said-“

“I love you. Too, I love you too.” He can’t meet your eyes yet, everything was up in the air, a pressure on your chest.

“No, I- I love you. Like, I want to be the person you see every morning, the person you wake up to. I am so in love with you it hurts, you are gorgeous and smart and funny and-“

“Stop.” Your breath hitches, was this it now?

“Y/n…I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever had the chance to know, to be best friends with and to…fall in love with. You are the first thought I have in the morning and the last one I have before I fall asleep. All I do is think of you, what is she doing? Is she happy? I bet she looks pretty right now, like all the time. Since you spilled coffee all over Damien on your first day- both of your awkward apologies and the both of you being too kind to be angry at the situation. You…I need you.” He’s standing in front of you now, looking down at you with those deep-set eyes, it was also a perk you him that you were shorter than him- a rarity. You can’t speak as you relay everything he said, all you want to do is kiss him, and he is thinking the same.

You tentatively step closer, his head leans down, aching slow and unsure, your hands come up to cup his cheek and steady yourself on his shoulder as you lean up. Your lips meet and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve tasted, that could just be the Kickstart, but he kisses you with such care and emotion- you have never been kissed like this. Or maybe you have but it’s never felt like this- like it was meant to happen, like you were made for him. His hands delicately find their home resting on your hips, your mouths moving together- kissing him deeper.

Neither of you seem to want to stop but eventually it gets difficult to breath through just your noses.

“So…”

He smiles at you, he had a feeling his life was just about to become beautiful.

a/n update! guess who won the ticketmaster war is seeing pitbull ft shaggy in concert? me, dale xo

#smosh spencer fanfiction #smosh spencer x reader #spencer agnew imagines #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh #smosh spencer imagine #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine #spencer agnew fanfiction

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milessunflowers · 11 hours ago

Note

This came to me in a dream but imagine.

Max Verstappen x MotoGP!male!reader. They're very similar, both started very young, they both have four championships and they're both Dutch. But Max is well, Max and reader is an absolute sweetheart and cinnamon roll.

Thank you!

just read all abt motogp and didn't realize how fucking cool it was until now so ty for that! gonna start watching it this season!

max verstappen x motogp!male!reader

synopsis: two racers, both alike in dignity, in fair motorsports, where we lay our scene- you and max are very similar in a lot of ways yet so different that you guys just make it work

author's note: motogp, i was not familiar with your game. but srsly i have to start watching bc just reading and researching on it had me so pumped up at 11:45 last night bc i forgot to rest up 😅 worth it bc AHAHAHAJDLLWWN <- that's how im feeling abt motogp. hope you like it!

you guys are so similar before you even knew each other

you both started around the same time, being the youngests to ever race in your respective sports

fans were quick to point out the parallels between the two of you

you won a good set of races (even if it's hard to do) and max was dominating the f1 world

plus you guys were both dutch

so everyone's all like "what the hell do they feed those motosports kids in the netherlands?"

you guys meet in like some random gp, maybe yours maybe his but either way a random gp

im thinking cota lowkey before daniel was booted (rip king)

so like daniel sets you guys up practically

turns out you got along amazingly, followed each other on instagram and like added each other on whatsapp and stuff

like you guys really hit off

you talk and get to know each/build a stable friendship for like a year and half before you ask him out

he says yes of course, claiming he was just about to do it and you stole his spotlight

you don't care because you are just happy to have date with someone you've come to care a lot about

you go on this date, probably to the beach because you still aren't sure what he wants to eat and when

you guys start being official shortly after

skip forward and you have won your second championship and max as one so far so you guys are out celebrating and stuff

fans spot you, ask for some pictures and notice how drastically different your personalities are

like you seem all cheery and happy all the time while max only seems to enjoy himself when he's with you or other people he likes

but they also realize how perfect you guys are and how much you counter balance each other

like one gets too overwhelmed the other is taking them home and obviously vice versa

and you guys are so so supportive

like if your bike decides not to work and you have to quit mid-race, max is there to support whether actually at the circuit or over facetime

if max has a particularly bad race, you are supporting him in anyway you can to make sure he knows how talented and amazing he is

you guys don't fight a lot, but when you do you guys are both lowkey overdramatic and realize like ten minutes later how stupid the argument was and then make up/make out over it

anyways

anytime you guys can, you support each other

like if there just happens to be the races on the same day, you make sure to tell max before and after your race how amazing and proud of him you are and max makes sure everyone knows what an amazing boyfriend you are

also championship celebrations are insane

like drunk asf, waking up sire the next day

you guys are just happy you got to celebrate them together

even if max is a little overprotective

not as much as you though, because some guy looked at max the wrong way at a bar one time and you just about punched out his lights

look, you're sweet and all but you love max and don't want people to judge that

plus you are a max defender til the day you die

you tried getting max to ride your bike that you have a home, but he almost broke his arm and you almost got berated by horner

but horner's opinion doesn't matter to you because he's horner—pretty self explanatory i think

you guys will sometimes go karting together but max always wins (you jokingly accuse him of cheating to win but he just has a cheeky smile)

its always fun because you guys really just like to battle on track

though you are less aggressive both in your motogp driving and on the kart

max, well, you guys know how max's driving is

also i feel like you would drive him around, if that makes any sense

like he screams passenger princess to me and i don't really understand it but you know what, fuck it we ball

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

#oli's 100 event #formula one x reader #formula one x male reader #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader

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glittering-darmallon · 2 days ago

Text

For Valrys Ingellvar

My favorite, "I am so done with all this" screenshots of them from their playthrough.

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook? Jasmine- She notices Valrys likes to wear a jasmine perfume oil, and this way they can distill the fragrance easier and not run out

Do they like Harding's cooking? They try, but Harding insists on substituting yam for all meat, and they don't have the heart to tell her they hate yams. They have tried subtle suggestions about maybe more mushrooms and less yam. It hasn't worked so far.

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook? A nuggalope. Valrys has always wanted to ride one, preferrably into battle, but they're not picky. "GIANT NUGS, LACE! AND LOOK AT THAT WIDDLE FACE!"

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin? Yes with a caveat. They are so over those poison spitting fade plants. "If I get hit by that green goo one more time, I'm going to destroy EVERYTHING!"

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case? Cosmetics outside Tevinter. "No, Neve, I'm pretty sure those are false eyelashes not tiny feathers. You can use a bit of sap to attach them to your lash line."

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish? Absolutely not. They hate fish with a burning passion. It's a texture thing. "Ew, why is it falling apart in my mouth?"

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen? Yes, but more because they find the topic interesting, not that they are knowledgeable about it. They are a good student though, love to learn.

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together? Yes, though Valrys enjoys the mystery serials a lot more than the romance ones. They have a pretty decent track record of figuring out whodunnit before the serial reveals it. Valrys: "No, I'm telling, Bellara, the monkey did it." Bellara: "What? No! No way!" Valrys: "Oh yeah. Hid in the chimney." (Did I just make Murders in the Rue Morgue appear in Thedas? Why yes I did."

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks? Deep mushrooms stuffed with goat cheese, chives and spices- Made vegetarian for Valrys and Emmrich- sausage is added for the rest of the team

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market? Bath oils, lip stain or other cosmetics. "I am not sure if the color is one you like, but I have it on good authority this merchant makes a really good product."

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best? Fangscorcher- small but formidable but also reckless "Smart enough to set traps and hold grudges, not smart enough to control herself" Yup. That fits impulsive Valrys to a T

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often? Oh yeah. Valrys is a favorite of those at the Hilt. "They're so small. How are they packing away all that food? All that Ale?" Good ol' Dwarven constitution.

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte? Not really. They don't care for apricots- But they would try it anyway

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook? Lavender black tea served with a candied lemon peel garnish. Vorgoth (The Chatterbox!) told Emmrich it had been Valrys' favorite since they were about eight. "DO NOT FORGET THE LEMON PEEL! YOU WILL MAKE THEM SAD. THEN YOU WILL HEAR FROM ME." Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down? Taash or Davrin: Come on. Will smashing things with a giant hammer make you feel better? Valrys: Uh Huh Neve: I know of a storage room in Minrathous the Venatori like to frequent. Filled with pottery. Valrys begins running for the eluvian: "IT'S TIME TO SMASH!"

Small Rook & Companion Questions:

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook?

Do they like Harding's cooking?

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook?

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin?

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case?

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish?

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen?

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together?

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks?

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market?

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best?

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often?

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte?

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook?

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down?

#rook asks #writing #rook ingellvar #Valrys Ingellvar #screenshots #datv spoilers #dragon age: veilguard

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liliasenbyhusband · 2 days ago

Text

Play stupid games

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

Joanne x reader (company, f!Bobbie)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!!, smutty thoughts but no actual smut, drinking, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, that’s it I think??

Tags: longing, established friendship between reader, Joanne, a bit more angsty than the other chapter, loneliness, drinking, hangover, flirting

Summary: Joanne comes home after Bobbie’s party to an empty apartment and has a hard time dealing with the loneliness that accompanies that.

Notes: Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter. I have very mixed emotions about it. I hope you guys like it though. I’m hoping to be able to post the next chapter next weekend, but I can’t make any promises cause uni is really taking it out of me atm. As always, English isn’t my first language so please excuse any mistakes.

Words: ~3.7k

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 2: Bobbie’s best friend

Joanne sighed as she entered her empty apartment, if she hadn’t been so hellbent on winning that stupid argument with Bobbie then she could have asked you to join her for a nightcap… would it still be considered a nightcap at 4 am in the morning..? She shrugged and decided to pour herself a glass of whiskey. She really did despise coming home to an empty apartment, especially when she didn’t get to properly say goodbye to you.

She had no one to blame but herself really. She could have easily let Bobbie win the argument and then asked you to go with her to her apartment. Or she could have at least taken a proper break from arguing to take her time to say goodbye to you. But at the time winning their little fight had been more important so now she had to deal with the emptiness that had settled into her heart, an all too familiar feeling whenever you weren’t around. Joanne hated a lot of things, but missing you might just be one of the things she hated the most.

She groaned at her own patheticness, she had just seen you, how was she already craving your company again? She blamed the alcohol for her neediness and the persistent ache that seemed insistent on haunting her whenever she thought about you for too long. She also decided to ignore the wet patch that had formed in her underwear, the result of being a little too flirty with you and her inability to stop her horny thoughts from taking over whenever you were around.

Joanne threw herself on her couch after taking off her shoes and began sipping her whiskey. She knew it was a bad idea to drink even more, but it was the only thing she could think to do to fight the sadness that had woven itself into every fiber of her being.

Her faulty plan to distract herself with more alcohol had been doomed from the start and it completely backfired when she failed to find something else to think of or keep herself busy with. The thoughts she had tried to repress took over, alcohol tended to have that effect on her… and yet she never learned from her past mistakes and continued to drink whenever her heart felt sad or empty. So, unable to do anything to stop it, she groaned as the memories and feelings from this turbulent past year and a half began to plague her.

Joanne had never entertained the thought of liking women.. let alone the idea that she might not like men. She had blamed the fact that her marriages never worked out on the fact that she had never met a man that could handle her or meet her high standards. Joanne had never questioned it… not until her third marriage had ended and she once again felt nothing but relief to be rid of another husband.

Surely she should have been more upset at losing her third husband, at another broken marriage… sure Larry hadn’t been perfect but he had been kind and gentle and patient. So why was she so happy to be rid of him? And that’s when it hit her, him being so patient and gentle had been the problem. He had started getting too close, he knew her too well and he was too kind, wanted to be intimate too much and loved her too much. Whenever she pulled away, he took a step closer and it was insufferable, so she had ended things.

With every husband she had found flaws, flaws that were too great to look past, that she could not stand, that irritated her beyond comprehension. And during every marriage she had made it impossible for the relationship to bloom and thrive, always finding new ways to pull back or taunt her spouse. It had started to make her question things, even during her marriage with Larry.

And then, when the expected hurt at losing someone, who so clearly loved her, didn’t follow, after she felt nothing but relief and guilt, she had started to really look at herself and her previous marriages. Of course with the help of some a lot of alcohol, because trying to do any introspection sober was a fate worse than death.

Joanne realised she had never felt attracted to her husbands… in fact she barely even tolerated most of them.. she couldn’t even remember why she had married them, other than it had been expected of her so she’d done it.

In the midst of this personal journey, Bobbie had introduced her new best friend to the group. When Bobbie had announced that she’d be bringing you to their next gathering, because she wanted everyone to meet you, Joanne had been skeptical of adding another person to their already big and chaotic friend group. She also wasn’t sure if she had the emotional strength to deal with meeting someone new right now. But it had seemed important to Bobbie, and whether she admitted it or not, she cared for her.. so she’d begrudgingly agreed to be there for the next gathering and had promised to be nice to you.

A decision she was now incredibly grateful for. When first meeting you she had started jokingly flirting with you, just like she did with most women she met for the first time, she found it usually eased the tension and awkwardness. Although most women never really matched her energy, usually just rolling their eyes or laughing at Joanne’s remarks. But then you came and you matched every dirty remark with an even filthier one and you had even managed to fluster her every once in a while, a feat only a very few people could claim to have accomplished. Meeting you had been like finally feeling a cool breeze after being trapped in a hot room for days on end.

And then she got to know you better, and you were so clearly and unapologetically yourself, she had to admit she admired it. You were no longer just a fun person to throw filthy comments at, but you had actually stirred something deep within her. She found herself feeling feelings she thought people had been lying about existing, she certainly never felt these butterflies around any of her husbands… when she began to truly think about it, the only time she had ever felt this giddy around anyone was during her college days when she had spent most of her time hanging out with her closest friend.

And that’s how all the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.. on a random Friday night at Bobbie’s, surrounded by her friends and while talking to you. Suddenly everything made sense. Why she had despised every single one of her husbands, how they had never been able to match her high standards, why she had felt so betrayed when her closest friend had gotten a boyfriend, and why she suddenly felt butterflies whenever you touched her. She was a lesbian… it was a crushing realization, accompanied by a wave of many intense emotions, both good and bad.

Joanne had never been more grateful for her ability to hide her emotions behind a well crafted mask and a strongly built wall than she had been that random Friday night. She had somehow managed to hold everything together till she got to her apartment, where she let the wave of emotions drown her completely while reaching for her familiar bottle of vodka.

The journey to acceptance had been a long and arduous one, especially since she refused to tell anyone about what she was going through, not out of a fear of not being accepted, but simply because she refused to seem weak. She had spent years creating this persona and she would be damned before ever showing her real self to these people.

The fact that she had developed a bit of a crush on you hadn’t helped this predicament either… she had only known you for a couple of months and hung out with you outside of the friend group twice and yet she had somehow managed to make this harder on herself than it already was.

And yet, somehow, she managed to slowly but surely start accepting this part of herself and her life had started to make a whole lot more sense now. She would never say it out loud, but opening up to you, even just a little, had helped her journey immensely and even though she hadn’t exactly come out to you, she still felt like you somehow knew, like you could see through her and, unlike with Larry, the thought brought her ease and comfort.

Her phone vibrating brought her out of her thoughts, as she checked who had messaged her, she noticed the time: 6 am. Had she really been lost in thought that long..? She sighed and downed the rest of her whiskey before reading the message Bobbie had sent her. It was a very poorly written apology, wanting to make sure Joanne hadn’t been angry with her after their little quarrel.

Bobbie was very clearly drunk, she always got anxious and began to overthink everything when she was drunk and alone. Joanne rolled her eyes and sighed but there was no real annoyance behind it, she cared a lot about Bobbie, and deep down she understood her more than she’d ever admit. She saw a great deal of herself in the other woman. She typed out a quick message, full of mistakes, reassuring Bobbie that they were okay and that she wasn’t upset about the argument. Quite frankly she couldn’t even remember what the argument had been about… the only thing she could remember was that it had seemed important to win it… but then again, to Joanne, winning any argument at all was always important

When she exited their chat, she saw your name right under Bobbie’s, which is when she remembered that she hadn’t sent you a text, to tell you that she had gotten home safe, yet. You and Joanne usually texted each other immediately after getting home…she couldn’t exactly remember when or why you had started doing it, but it was nice nonetheless. It made her feel like someone cared about her and it was always nice to know that you’d gotten home safe.

She had completely forgotten to text you this time though, too absorbed in her own thoughts to remember to let you know she’d made it to her apartment in one piece… so she quickly sent you a message, letting you know she had gotten home safely. In her drunken haste to reply to you, she had struggled to write a coherent message, the singular sentence containing more spelling mistakes than words spelled correctly, but she knew you wouldn’t care.. as long as you knew she got home safe.

Joanne groaned as she felt that familiar ache once again begin to settle into her heart upon seeing your name on her screen. Her little crush, attraction and fascination with you had turned into something much deeper these past months. She had tried to push it down, bottle it up, forget about it, but her feelings always found a way back to the forefront of her mind. Luckily for her, you seemed to be none the wiser, the years of perfecting the walls she had built around her heart had paid off.

Sometimes she dreamed about telling you how she felt or confessing to you that she was a lesbian, just so she could say it out loud to someone. And who better to tell than the only person she felt comfortable opening up to, even just a little? Besides she was quite sure you knew already or at least suspected something.

But then the shame and embarrassment kicked in.. how on Earth had it taken her this long to find out she liked women? She knew you wouldn’t judge her but… well maybe you should. She had gone through life proclaiming to know it all, telling anyone who would listen how she had life completely figured out and yet… she didn’t even discover this essential part of herself until fairly recently. Not only had it taken her multiple decades to figure it out, but it had also taken her three whole divorces… no she was too proud to ever admit this to anyone, even you. Accepting herself was one thing, having to deal with the consequences of her own actions was something entirely different. And what was the point, anyway? It was too late, she was too old… and there was no way you’d be interested in her.

“There is still time.”

She whispered into the cold air of her living room, it sounded desperate, like she was trying to convince herself of a lie. It was supposed to be comforting, a reminder that it wasn’t too late, that she could still explore this side of herself…there was still time. Except it didn’t feel comforting, instead it felt like a curse, there is still time.. there is always time… and nothing to fill it with, no dreams to be chased, no goals to be accomplished, no wishes to be fulfilled, no work to be completed… just time.. an endless stretch of time that she couldn’t seem to assign any meaning to. She stared at her now empty glass as the reality of having a future with no goals she wished to chase, settled into her once again.

No, you would never be into her, you needed someone ambitious, someone who could help you grow in life and would encourage you to follow your dreams… not a drunk old broad who spent her days doing nothing but complaining and drinking.

Joanne groaned as she got up from the couch, she really hated coming home to an empty apartment, her thoughts seemed to never stop when she was alone. With great difficulty she made her way over to her bed. She couldn’t be bothered to change out of today's clothes, so she just let herself fall into her bed. She’d regret all of this tomorrow morning.. or well, more accurately, later today.. but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Thanks to the alcohol, she managed to fall asleep rather quickly, but it didn’t provide her any solace. You haunted her dreams with your understanding eyes, witty remarks and comforting touches.

Joanne woke up feeling worse than she did when she had gone to bed. Not only did she have a massive hangover but having dreamt of you laying beside her and then waking up in an empty bed, in the same clothes she had worn yesterday, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, had hit her harder than she would ever admit.

She slowly got out of bed, opting to take a cold shower before trying to do anything, needing to get rid of this smell and hoping to get rid of some of the brain fog.

When Joanne got out of the shower, she was entirely unaware of what part of the day it was, she had no clue how long she had slept, all she knew was that she needed a cigarette, an aspirin and something to eat… although her nausea did not agree with that last part.

She threw on the comfiest pair of pants she owned and one of her favourite blouses. As she was about to search for her phone, to try and figure how late it was, a knock disturbed the silence that hung in her apartment. A confused frown made its way onto her face, she was quite sure she hadn’t made any plans today, anticipating that she would be too hungover to follow through on any of them.

She made her way over to her door nonetheless, not bothering to check what she looked like. She would tell whoever was on the other side of that door they could fuck off anyway. She was not in the mood for any company.

The second Joanne opened the door she regretted not putting on her make-up or checking herself in the mirror. As her eyes landed on your smiling form, a bit of self consciousness began to creep its way into her mind.

Her confusion must have been clear on her face because you quickly began to explain yourself, holding up two cups of coffee and a bag that she assumed had some sort of food in it. You were clearly a little nervous as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“Judging by the text you sent early this morning, I figured you might have a rough morning or, more accurately, afternoon. So I reckoned why not surprise you with your favourite coffee and some breakfast.. I thought you might need it. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Joanne shook her head and softly reassured you that she had been awake already, electing to leave out that she had only been awake for approximately half an hour. She couldn’t stop the small smile from making its way onto her face, you were so thoughtful. She mentally cursed herself as she felt her heart flutter at your kind gesture.

She tried to act like her self assured self while letting you in, but she suddenly was very aware of the state she had left her apartment in after getting back home. Her empty glass was still sat on top of the living room table, her coat had been thrown on the first chair she had seen and her shoes were carelessly discarded in front of the couch. On top of that you had never seen her without make-up. The self consciousness that had already been creeping its way into her mind now doubled in intensity.

Joanne didn’t miss the worried look you sent her way, you must have picked up on her uneasiness. She quickly sent you a reassuring smile, muttering something about a hangover as she slipped her confident mask back on, before taking the coffee you had handed her.

“So what did you bring me for breakfast? Besides you of course?”

Joanne teased, her voice light while her lips twitched into a smirk. She found these type of teasing remarks usually helped her slip back into the persona she had created for herself. And trying to fluster you was also an added bonus.

She watched as you tried to hide the faintest blush by taking a sip from your coffee. She had noticed how you got flustered more often and easier lately, she sometimes wondered what had suddenly changed for you to suddenly become more shy. It reminded her of the conversation she had overheard between you and Bobbie yesterday. Maybe Bobbie was implying that it had been too long since you had gotten laid? Could that be part of the reason why you had gotten so easy to fluster? Maybe Bobbie had offered to introduce you to someone and then told you to take action, to not let her offer go to waste… it certainly would make sense.

That thought left her with a feeling she hadn’t felt in ages, jealousy. She internally groaned at her own stupidity. She had absolutely no right to be jealous, besides she didn’t even know if there was anything to be jealous of. She realised she might not know you as well as she thought she did. You had never talked much about your love life, at least not to Joanne… Bobbie seemed to know more though… she definitely knew something that Joanne didn’t.

The jealousy that she had felt earlier only got worse at that. This wasn’t her thoughts coming up with a hypothetical scenario.. this was reality…you trusted Bobbie more than her… maybe even liked her more than her. Joanne took a sip from her coffee, trying to stop the lump that had threatened to form in her throat.

She silently scolded herself, you were Bobbie’s best friend, it made complete sense for you to trust her more, share more secrets with her, share parts of your life that you didn’t with Joanne.

Her racing thoughts came to a halt when you spoke up to answer her question, a question she had completely forgotten she had asked in the first place.

“Pastries from that cute little bakery on the corner. If you still have an appetite after them, you can have your dessert.”

Your voice sounded light and playful and the wink you sent her way had a much bigger effect on her than it should have. She was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to get the image of eating you out on her couch out of her head for the rest of the day.

When you handed her the bag with pastries those filthy thoughts were replaced by a much warmer, softer feeling. She only now realised you had gone to her favourite bakery and as she opened the bag, she saw that you had not only gone to her favourite bakery, but you had also gotten her favourite pastries.

Joanne had mentioned that bakery and her favourite pastries once or twice and couldn’t believe you had remembered it. Any sadness that had previously tainted her heart was replaced by the comforting feeling that accompanied the knowledge that you cared enough about her to remember these little things.

A genuine and heartfelt “thank you” slipped from her lips as she looked into your eyes, the gratitude clearly displayed in her own.

The rest of the afternoon was spent teasing one another, talking about everything and nothing, as the sound of laughter filled the air. The contrast with earlier that day could not have been bigger. The sadness and coldness that had polluted the air of the living room mere hours earlier, had now been replaced with a warmth that could only come from time spent with you, watching you blush and hearing you laugh at Joanne’s dirty jokes.

The warmth still lingered even after you had begrudgingly left, reminders of your presence lingering in her kitchen and living room. Your discarded coffee cup on the living room table and the bag, with still half a pastry in it, laid on the kitchen counter. The emptiness that had taken hold of Joanne’s heart earlier had now been filled with a feeling only you could bring out in her, she didn’t have a name for it, not yet, but for once she didn’t care that she didn’t know. She just wanted to bask in this feeling for a little while longer, before the ache of missing you inevitably took hold of her once again.

#joanne x reader #company #joanne #fanfic #patti lupone

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winteringdream · 3 days ago

Text

𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑼𝑮𝑳𝒀 — 𝑻𝑨𝑬𝑺𝑨𝑵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for making a good first impression...

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

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

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

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

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

Where was room 523 supposed to be?

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

Your stomach dropped. Wrong floor.

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

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

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

“I'm sorry I didn't see you.”

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

Taesan barely blinked. “You ran into me.”

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

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

You exhaled sharply, watching his retreating figure in disbelief.

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

You blink. Then scoff under your breath.

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

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

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

And that’s when it really sinks in.

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

Why am I even trying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is he walking over?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are you going to take me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, your eyes catch something familiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to get you some water?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taesan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn’t been prepared for that.

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

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

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

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

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

What if things had been different?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bad at what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

where r u?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know, but I need to talk to you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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