#divider by vesearartistry

[aeniiverse]

HELLO?

Synopsis — Y/N, a bubbly and optimistic new student, finds herself captivated by the enigmatic Ningning, a girl known for her aloofness and tough exterior. Initially, Ningning helps Y/N navigate the school, but what begins as a reluctant friendship soon evolves into something deeper. Despite Ningning’s attempts to maintain her distance, Y/N’s infectious warmth and constant presence begin to break down her walls, leading to subtle, soft moments of care and protection.

contains — fluff, angst, grumpy (Ningning) x sunshine (y/n), sunshine x sunshine protector in the end, bit of possessive Ning (but in a good and non-toxic way), y/n has an obsession with juice boxes, oc’s (jisung), mention of ive’s Yujin, ending is written in third person pov, avoiding and pulling away at some point, y/n is just a ray of sunshine

WORD COUNT — 14.5k

A/N — okay so was listening to a laufey song and that’s when I came up with this idea, the title is based of the song hello by clairo which in a way relates to the story esp the “are you into me? Like I’m into you part” ye idk if you get it 😝

You were not lost. You were just… directionally adventurous.

That’s what you told yourself, confidently sipping from a juice box and squinting at the crumpled school map that someone had handed you at orientation printed in grayscale, covered in tiny fonts, and currently held upside down. Which, okay, fine. You were lost. But it was the first day! You were a freshman! Lost freshmen were a natural part of the academic ecosystem!

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like anyone around here agreed.

“Excuse me—hi? Sorry, quick question—oh. Okay.” You watched the back of someone’s head disappear down the hallway. That was the third person to speed-walk away from you like you were asking for their social security number instead of directions to the science wing.

Honestly, what was with this school? Was everyone trained to avoid eye contact like it was a full-contact sport?

You turned a corner and immediately hit a dead end. Great. Wonderful. Maybe you’d graduate here, like, in the hallway. You’d just set up camp next to the water fountain and host office hours for other lost souls.

You took a long, dramatic sip of your juice box.

Then you saw her.

Leaning against a windowsill at the end of the corridor, earbuds in, one leg bent and pressed to the glass, was a girl who looked like she belonged on the cover of a moody indie album. Dark jacket, headphones oversized enough to block out both sound and social interaction. Her expression was blank no, blank was too neutral. She looked done. With what? Life. School. Probably people like you.

Someone else might have taken that as a sign to back off.

You were not someone else.

“Hi!” you chirped, striding toward her with zero hesitation. “You look like you know stuff. Can you help me not die here?”

The reaction was instant.

Every single person in the hallway either stopped moving or pretended they weren’t definitely listening. A group of upperclassmen at the lockers froze mid-laugh. Even the guy who had been swiping through his phone paused with his thumb in the air.

Because Ningning had looked up.

She slowly tugged out one earbud. Her gaze swept over you from head to toe the juice box, the backward map, the wildly optimistic grin plastered on your face.

Then she blinked. And for a full, dragging beat, you thought she might just stand up and walk away.

But instead…

“You’re holding the map upside down.”

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t polite. But it was a response.

You gasped like she’d handed you a Nobel Prize. “Oh my god, that makes so much sense! I thought this hallway was a portal or something.”

“…A portal.”

“To, like, another dimension. A science lab purgatory. I don’t know. I panicked.”

She stared at you.

You beamed back, unfazed.

For a second, you thought you saw something twitch at the corner of her lips. A shadow of a smile. Maybe.

“This is Building C,” she said, tugging her other earbud out. “You’re supposed to be in Building A if you’re looking for Chem.”

You gasped again. “You know where Chem is? You’re my hero.”

“I didn’t say I was taking you there.”

“You didn’t not say it, either,” you pointed out helpfully. “Which means there’s a chance.”

Another long, slow blink. This girl had perfected the art of judgmental silence.

You took another sip of your juice. “Anyway, I’m Y/N. Freshman. Chronic over-sharer. Kind of dying a little. What’s your name?”

More silence. She looked like she was debating whether to entertain this or yeet herself out the window.

“…Ningning.”

You nearly dropped your juice. “Wait the Ningning? The one who everyone says never talks to people? The one who supposedly made a senior cry last year just by looking at him?”

“That was an exaggeration.”

“Which part? That it was a senior or that you made him cry?”

Ningning didn’t answer. But her eyes flicked sideways like she was trying not to smile.

“Okay, okay, no more questions. I can feel your tolerance dropping by the second. But can I just say one last thing?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You have really great hair. Like, intimidatingly great.”

At that, she actually laughed, quiet and quick, like it escaped before she could stop it. She looked vaguely horrified after, like the sound had betrayed her.

You blinked. “Was that… did you just—?”

“No,” she said instantly, face deadpan again.

“Liar,” you grinned.

Ningning sighed. Then grudgingly, like she was fighting every instinct in her body she pushed off the windowsill.

“I’ll walk you to Chem,” she said.

You lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?! You’re my new favorite person.”

“I’m not doing this every day.”

“Sure, sure. You say that now. But wait till I win you over with friendship bracelets and spontaneous karaoke.”

She gave you a look. “Absolutely not.”

“Too late,” you sing-songed as you followed her down the hallway. “You smiled. You’re stuck with me now.”

And just like that, the hallway still half-frozen in collective shock watched Ningning, the untouchable, walk away with the loudest, weirdest freshman clinging to her side like she’d done it a thousand times before.

She didn’t say a word the rest of the way.

But she also didn’t put her earbuds back in.

Homeroom had never felt so dramatic.

Maybe it was because the classroom was unusually quiet, or maybe it was because everyone seemed to be watching your every move like they expected you to spontaneously combust. You weren’t sure why the simple act of sitting down next to someone had suddenly become a spectator sport. You hadn’t even done anything yet. All you’d done was walk in, check the seating chart, and make your way toward the desk at the back corner the one with the best view of the windows and the worst reputation in the entire room.

Because that was her seat.

And today, the new kid you had been assigned to sit beside her.

You heard the whispers before you even got there.

“No one talks to her.”

“She made a TA cry last semester.”

“She hasn’t had a desk partner since middle school.”

“She probably requested it that way.”

You, of course, just waved and dropped into the seat like it wasn’t allegedly cursed. Your backpack thudded onto the floor, your pencil case zipped open with way too much enthusiasm, and your juice box (yes, another one) landed on the desk with a cheery slap.

“Morning!” you beamed at Ningning, who sat perfectly still with her chin propped on one hand, eyes flicking to you like you were a particularly loud and sparkly fly.

She didn’t say anything.

“You have really pretty hair,” you tried again, unbothered by the wall of silence. “Like, scary pretty. I’d pay actual money to get those waves. Is it natural? Wait, don’t answer. That’s probably weird. Sorry, I tend to overshare. It’s a thing.”

Still nothing.

You unwrapped your pencil and kept talking anyway. “I have a cat named Waffles. He has one functioning brain cell and absolutely no survival instincts. Last week, he tried to eat a sock. A whole sock.”

A beat of silence.

Then very faint, almost invisible the corner of Ningning’s mouth twitched.

You saw it. You definitely saw it.

“I put a bowtie on him for his birthday,” you added casually, fighting a grin. “It was red. He hated it. Tried to fight it. Lost.”

Another twitch. This one lasted a little longer.

You were winning. You had no idea what the prize was, but you were absolutely winning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the class president whispering something to a friend, both of them wide-eyed and frozen like they were watching someone juggle flaming knives.

You turned slightly and whispered, “Are they always like this?”

Ningning finally moved. She turned just enough to glance at the rest of the class, then looked back at you and said, flatly, “They’re waiting to see if you survive first period.”

You blinked. “Huh. That’s kinda flattering. It’s like being the main character of a horror movie. Do I get theme music?”

“No,” she said.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Bummer.”

The class finally turned their attention back to the teacher when attendance started, but the atmosphere stayed tense, like everyone expected you to spontaneously burst into tears or catch fire from sitting too close to her. Ningning didn’t say anything else, but you noticed the way her pen kept tapping against her notebook in a steady rhythm. You wondered if she always did that, or if it was a new thing.

It didn’t bother you. You liked noise.

What did bother you, weirdly enough, was the way her desk looked… empty. Like it had never really been used.

There were no little stickers on the corner. No scuffs from someone resting their elbows there all year. No tiny doodles or pen scratches. Just perfect, untouched wood.

Your desk already had your initials carved into the bottom right corner. You’d done it with a mechanical pencil while zoning out.

When the teacher passed out forms, you scooted a little closer to look at Ningning’s paper, pretending you couldn’t find your own. “Oh no, am I illiterate and lost? Double threat.”

She didn’t say anything, but her hand slid your form toward you without looking.

You smiled. “You’re really nice under all that scary energy, you know?”

Ningning gave you a blank look, but her ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

You didn’t say anything about it. You just sipped your juice and started filling in your name.

The rest of homeroom passed in a weirdly calm blur. Maybe it was because the other students gave up waiting for drama, or maybe it was because Ningning didn’t actually seem as terrifying when she wasn’t ignoring you. She didn’t talk much, okay, at all but every time you said something, she listened. She didn’t zone out or roll her eyes. She just… watched. Like she was trying to figure you out.

Like she didn’t mind the noise.

The bell rang, and students started packing up. You leaned back with a stretch. “Whew. Survived homeroom. Zero fatalities. Unless you count my GPA. Which I do.”

Ningning stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t look at you when she said, “You talk a lot.”

“Yup,” you agreed brightly. “But I’m fun.”

She paused. Then, so quiet you almost missed it, she muttered, “You’re not annoying.”

You stared at her. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It is now.”

And for a moment, just a split second, Ningning smiled. Real and small and crooked. The kind of smile that looked like it didn’t know how to exist yet.

Your chest ached a little. Just a little.

Because Ningning looked like someone who was used to silence. Like someone who’d made a home out of being alone. Like someone whose desk had been empty for a long time not just physically, but quietly, deeply empty in a way no one had noticed.

But she’d let you sit there. Let you talk. Let you stay.

So you would.

You smiled back and threw your arm around your bag. “So. What’s next? Do you have the schedule? Or are we just wandering until a teacher adopts us?”

Ningning blinked at you, then reached into her pocket and handed you a folded paper. You opened it and gasped. “You’re an organizational goddess. I should’ve known.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the schedule back.

You were still talking when you walked out of the classroom, voice trailing off into a story about Waffles attempting to scale your fridge for a single slice of cheese. Ningning didn’t reply, but she didn’t leave either.

And if everyone else in the hallway looked stunned to see you still alive and practically glued to her side well, that was their problem.

You were just getting started.

Ningning had helped you exactly one time.

It hadn’t even been dramatic. No life-or-death scenario, no “princess carried out of danger” moment. You’d just gotten lost, pointed your juice box at her like a compass, and asked for directions like she wasn’t the most unapproachable person in a ten-mile radius. She told you which hallway to go down. That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t. Not even close.

Because to you, that wasn’t just directions. That was a bond. That was friendship forged in the flames of social anxiety and bad map design. That was fate handing you a grumpy, scary, beautiful tour guide with the energy of a storm cloud and the aura of a final boss. And you, being exactly the kind of person who thought “boundaries” was just a suggestion, latched onto her like a barnacle made of sunshine and poor impulse control.

So now every morning, without fail, you showed up to school like you had a legally binding contract with the universe to be as loud and cheerful as possible, headed straight toward Ningning’s locker like you were on autopilot.

“Good morning!” you chirped one Thursday, popping up beside her like a caffeinated Pokémon. “I brought you a juice box! It’s apple. I wasn’t sure if you liked grape, and orange felt too acidic for a Thursday, you know?”

Ningning didn’t even look at you. She finished unlocking her locker with a slow turn of the dial and pulled her books out with precision that made it seem like she was trying very hard not to throw one at your head.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink both,” you added thoughtfully, holding up the boxes. “But not at the same time. That would be weird. Unless that’s like, a power move?”

Still no response.

You leaned closer. “You’re thinking about it, though. I can tell.”

One of Ningning’s friends, a tall girl with sharp eyeliner and a scarier stare paused mid-conversation to watch the two of you. She elbowed the guy next to her, who looked up and openly gawked. It was like you’d tamed a dragon with a Lunchables.

Ningning gave them a look that could wither plants. “Don’t,” she said flatly.

They both immediately turned away, but you caught the way they were grinning.

“I like your friends,” you said, not-so-quietly. “They look like they know how to hide a body. That’s so fun.”

This time, Ningning did glance at you. Brief. Disbelieving. Like she couldn’t understand how someone with no sense of fear had made it this far in life.

You smiled wider and tapped the juice box against her arm until she took it. “See? Besties.”

She blinked down at the apple juice in her hand like it personally offended her, then quietly tucked it into the front pocket of her bag.

You beamed. “Victory.”

She didn’t say anything else as the two of you started walking down the hallway together but you noticed her slowing her pace just enough so you wouldn’t have to jog to keep up.

The thing was, you weren’t stupid. People thought you were, because you talked a lot and wore bright colors and made friends with everyone in under five minutes. But you noticed things. Like how Ningning always kept one earbud out when you were around, even if the music was still playing. Or how she never outright told you to leave her alone, even though everyone insisted she didn’t tolerate clingy people. Or how her friends had stopped looking concerned and started looking amused whenever you appeared at her side.

You weren’t breaking her down. That would imply she was a wall. Ningning was more like… a fortress. Intact. Imposing. And you were just the idiot sunshine who kept knocking at the gate every day with a smile and a snack.

You didn’t mind. It was a good kind of challenge.

“You know,” you said as you reached your classroom, still walking with her even though her own class was on the other side of the building, “this is technically stalking.”

Ningning stared. “You’re admitting that?”

“Yup,” you grinned. “But like, friendly stalking. With juice. That makes it fine.”

“I’m reporting you,” she muttered.

You nodded seriously. “You want me to pose for the mugshot now, or later?”

That earned you a very quiet huff. Not quite a laugh. But not not a laugh.

You counted it as another win.

By lunchtime, you were bouncing your leg under the table and texting her even though you were two tables away.

you: i hope you drank the juice.

you: or at least looked at it fondly.

you: did you name it.

you: don’t lie. i feel like you did.

Across the cafeteria, Ningning didn’t respond. But she looked up once, met your eyes, and raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

You sent her five heart emojis and went back to your sandwich.

Her friends, once again, looked like they were watching the end of an era. One of them muttered something you couldn’t hear, and Ningning actually smacked her with a napkin.

You would’ve given anything to be closer just to hear what they were saying.

But you had time. You were in this for the long game. You didn’t mind that she didn’t talk much or that she rarely smiled. What mattered was that she let you talk. That she showed up. That when you hovered beside her desk in homeroom and offered to trade snacks, she didn’t tell you to go away.

You liked to think that meant something.

After school, you spotted her waiting by the front gate with her headphones in, bag slung over one shoulder, half in shadow like she belonged in a magazine spread.

You ran up to her, a little out of breath. “Hey. Want to walk home together?”

She didn’t answer right away. But she didn’t walk off either.

You pointed to your drink. “I have another juice box.”

Pause. Then: “What flavor?”

Your heart did a little dance.

“Peach.”

Ningning took it from you without another word and started walking. You grinned and followed.

Behind you, somewhere on school grounds, someone whispered, “No way. She actually tamed her.”

You didn’t turn around. Just skipped a little to catch up.

Besties, obviously.

You didn’t realize you’d become a campus-wide mystery until someone tried to interview you in the girl’s bathroom.

You were washing your hands, humming the theme song to your cat’s favorite cartoon (because of course Waffles had taste), when a third-year with half her hair dyed blue stepped up beside you and casually asked, “So… are you and Ningning dating?”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Or like, just talking?” she added. “Talking-talking. You know.”

You stared at her like she’d asked if you were secretly a tax evader. “We talk, yeah. I mean, I talk. She… tolerates.”

The girl gave you a skeptical once-over, clearly unconvinced. “You brought her a juice box yesterday.”

“I had two! And she looked dehydrated!”

The door swung open before she could press further, you took the escape route immediately, hands still slightly damp, nearly tripping over your own shoelaces as you scrambled back into the hallway.

It wasn’t the first time someone had said something weird. But it was the first time someone had said it to your face. Mostly it was just whispers, quiet, almost reverent.

You thought it was all exaggerated.

Sure, Ningning had a reputation. The kind that echoed in the halls, whispered in homeroom, and showed up in very dramatic posts on the school’s anonymous confession board. People said she never smiled, never spoke unless she had to, and could kill a rumor with one glare.

And yeah, maybe she did have that look. half bored, half annoyed, with eyeliner that could cut glass and the fashion sense of someone who knew exactly how hot she was but didn’t care.

But she wasn’t scary. Not to you. She was quiet, sure. She had this calm, still energy like a lake you weren’t sure was shallow or hiding a sea monster. But if you talked long enough, she answered. If you followed her, she didn’t walk away. If you gave her juice, she drank it.

You liked to think that meant something.

Still, the stares kept coming.

In homeroom, you plopped into the seat beside her like always, digging through your bag for a pen you swore you packed.

“You know,” you said, still rummaging, “I think my backpack eats stationery. There’s probably a whole civilization of lost pens and hair ties living in here.”

Ningning didn’t say anything. Just nudged a spare pen toward your side of the desk with a single, precise motion.

You beamed at her. “See, this is why you’re my favorite.”

From across the room, someone dropped their pencil. Hard. As if the sheer sound of you speaking to Ningning broke their hand-eye coordination.

You didn’t notice. Or pretended not to.

At lunch, it got worse.

You’d started sitting with her weeks ago at first just tagging along, then earning an eye-roll of acceptance. Now it was a thing. You sat beside her. Her friends tolerated you. And sometimes, when you brought a good snack, they even smiled.

You were halfway through an animated story about how Waffles had figured out how to open the treat drawer (“She’s so smart. She’s gonna evolve thumbs and replace me soon.”), when you leaned over and poked Ningning’s arm. Just a light tap. Nothing special.

She turned toward you, raising a brow. “What?”

“You’re not listening,” you accused.

“I am.”

“What did I say?”

“That your cat is probably smarter than you.”

You gasped. “You were listening! That’s so rude. And correct.”

From the next table over, a girl actually whispered, “Oh my god.” Like she’d just witnessed a miracle.

You looked around and finally noticed the eyes. The subtle tilts of heads. The sideways glances full of shock and awe. And Ningning, totally unbothered, quietly stabbing at her salad with her fork like she wasn’t the most talked-about person in school.

“Am I in a documentary?” you whispered. “Do I look okay? Should I pose?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ningning muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Barely.

You saw it.

So did everyone else.

Someone gasped. Audibly.

The table behind you fell into dead silence. One guy actually dropped his chopsticks.

You leaned in, wide-eyed. “Did you just almost smile?”

“No.”

“You did. Ningning. That’s a crime. That’s—wait, no, don’t hide your face. Let me see. I’m filing a report. I’m telling the press.”

She elbowed you lightly, and you grinned so hard your face hurt.

Later that day, in the hallway after gym, you overheard it again.

“Is that her? The one who sits with Ningning?”

“Yeah. She called her pretty once and didn’t die.”

You nearly walked into a locker.

A group of students near the stairwell were whispering with the intensity of people discussing a forbidden artifact. When you passed, they all hushed. One of them even gave you a subtle nod, like you were part of a secret club.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You stopped by the vending machine, still processing, and jumped when Ningning appeared beside you like a fashionable ghost.

“Hey!” you smiled, instinctively offering your unopened drink. “I got two again.”

She took it wordlessly and leaned against the wall while you stared at the machine like it had betrayed you (which, to be fair, it had your chips got stuck halfway down).

You sighed. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

Ningning glanced at you. “They do?”

“Yup. Full-on love story levels. It’s wild.”

She didn’t reply right away. Just watched you tilt your head at the vending machine and mutter about physics and snack injustice.

Then she said, “It’s probably the juice.”

You looked at her. “What?”

“Or the way you follow me everywhere.”

You blinked. “But I do that to like, three other people too.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t bring them drinks.”

You tilted your head. “Wait. Are you saying I’m special?”

She stared. Unblinking.

You grinned. “You like me.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

She exhaled through her nose. Turned to leave.

You followed, of course.

And behind you, someone whispered, “Okay, maybe they are dating.”

You didn’t even bother correcting them.

It started with the seat.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. A lucky fluke. You walked into homeroom a little later than usual, blame Waffles, who had decided your sock drawer was the perfect place to throw up a hairball and by the time you got there, half the class was already seated. You scanned the room, expecting to have to wedge yourself between strangers or, worse, sit alone.

But there it was.

The seat next to Ningning. Empty.

Not a bag on it. Not a textbook. Not even someone hovering nearby like they were thinking about claiming it.

You hesitated for half a second because you were pretty sure someone else had been eyeing that spot earlier in the week but then Ningning glanced up from her phone and gave the tiniest, subtlest head tilt.

Permission.

You plopped down beside her like you hadn’t just won the student council lottery. “Thanks for saving it,” you said, half teasing.

“I didn’t,” she replied flatly.

“Right. Of course. It just happens to be available every day. Reserved by fate.”

She didn’t answer. Just unlocked her phone again.

But the next day, the same thing happened. And the day after that. And the next. Every time you walked in on time, late, sleep-deprived, it was there. Your spot. Next to her.

You started calling it “home base.” She started pretending not to hear you.

The notes came later.

You weren’t exactly bad at math. You just… processed it like an abstract painting. Vaguely. Emotionally. With a lot of guessing and spiraling into existential dread.

So when your teacher started speed-running logarithmic functions like he was trying to win a prize, you froze halfway through copying an equation and whispered, “Okay, what the hell is happening?”

Ningning didn’t say anything.

Just reached into her folder, tore out a page, neat handwriting, highlighted formulas, even a tiny doodle of a cat in the margin and slid it over to you without a word.

You stared. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“It’s not,” she muttered.

“It is. I’m framing this. I’m putting it in a shrine. I’m naming my firstborn after you.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late. Baby Ningning’s gonna be so proud.”

Despite herself, her mouth twitched. A twitch that almost became a smile. And the back of the class went quiet again, like witnessing any emotion from her triggered an auto-silence reflex.

You leaned closer. “You know, for someone with a scary reputation, you’re dangerously soft.”

“I will take that paper back.”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“You won’t. Because you love me.”

She turned, expression blank. “Shut up and solve the problem.”

“You so love me.”

She sighed, long and suffering. “I really don’t.”

You poked her arm. “Liar.”

She didn’t respond.

But when the bell rang and you gathered your things in a flurry of paper and sparkly pens, she tucked her notes back into your binder before you could forget them.

The third time it happened, you weren’t even there.

You were in the library when it started. returning a late book (with your sincerest apologies and a donut for the librarian) and humming some stupid jingle under your breath, oblivious as always.

Across the courtyard, back in homeroom, some kid thought it’d be funny to make a comment.

Nothing mean, really. Just stupid. The kind of joke people think is harmless, even though it sticks like gum on your shoe. He’d glanced at your desk, laughed under his breath, and said, “Ningning must have the patience of a saint. I’d go deaf if I sat next to her every day.”

A few kids chuckled.

Ningning didn’t.

She didn’t even look up at first. Just kept scrolling on her phone. Then, slowly, she locked the screen and turned her head, eyes sharp and unreadable.

“Try saying that again when she’s here,” she said, voice calm.

The room fell silent.

The guy blinked, startled. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I—uh—was just joking.”

She stared.

It wasn’t the kind of glare that screamed or snarled or threatened. It was worse. It was silent. Cutting. The kind that made people suddenly rethink their life choices.

The boy stammered something that resembled an apology and promptly shut up. Someone behind him whispered “Damn,” under their breath.

When you came back fifteen minutes later, chattering about how the librarian had accepted your peace-offering donut but made you promise to actually return things on time, Ningning didn’t mention it.

But a few of her friends glanced at each other as you sat down, smacked your head gently against your desk, and sighed about overdue fees like they were a moral failure.

Ningning slid one of your glitter pens back across the table to you.

You hadn’t even noticed it had fallen.

Little things.

That’s how she did it.

She never said it outright. Never admitted anything. But she was always there. Quiet. Consistent. Soft in the ways she thought you wouldn’t notice.

She saved you a seat, even if she denied it. Gave you her notes without asking why. Carried an extra hair tie after you complained about forgetting yours during gym. Learned your favorite vending machine snack and never said a word when she started grabbing two.

And you the sunshine that you were never stopped showing up.

Because some part of you knew. Underneath the glares and the sighs and the deadpan comebacks, she cared.

And maybe she wasn’t ready to say it yet.

But that was okay.

Because you were fluent in soft grump care. And you had all the time in the world.

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon.

The sky had been clear when you left for school. Not a single suspicious cloud. Birds were chirping. You were whistling. Life was good.

And then fifth period ended, and apparently, the weather decided to throw hands.

The downpour hit like a sucker punch, sheets of rain hammering the courtyard, the sidewalk, the tiny sad trees lining the school’s front gate. You watched it all from the lobby doors, backpack slung over your shoulder, holding your half-collapsed, questionably sturdy umbrella like it might magically fix itself if you just stared hard enough.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

You nudged it open with a painful squeak, only for the left side to snap backward like a dying bat wing. Awesome. Fantastic. Peak freshman energy.

Around you, other students huddled under real umbrellas or dashed to waiting cars. You stood there, juice box still in your pocket from lunch, weighing your options like a soldier before battle.

Option one: brave it with your sad excuse for an umbrella and look like a wet cryptid.

Option two: perish.

You were seriously leaning toward option three when a shadow fell over you.

You turned.

And there she was.

Ningning, standing at your side, an umbrella tilted casually over her shoulder, rain sliding harmlessly down the black fabric. She wore the same deadpan expression she always did, but there was a flicker barely there in her eyes.

Without a word, she shoved her hoodie into your chest.

You caught it awkwardly, blinking. “Wait—what—?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold,” she said, voice flat.

You looked down at the hoodie. It was soft. Slightly oversized. Smelled like clean laundry and something faintly like vanilla.

You looked back up at her, beaming. “You do like me!”

“I don’t.”

“You dooo~” you sing-songed, hugging the hoodie to your chest like a trophy. “You’re giving me your actual clothes. That’s best friend behavior. That’s soulmate behavior.”

Ningning rolled her eyes, but she moved closer so the umbrella covered you both anyway.

You slipped the hoodie over your head, laughing when the sleeves swallowed your hands. “I’m keeping this forever, by the way. This is mine now.”

“Return it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it.”

She huffed under her breath a tiny, almost imperceptible sound that you decided to translate as affection.

You grinned up at her. “You’re like a stray cat that keeps pretending it doesn’t want pets, but keeps showing up on my porch anyway.”

“Stop talking.”

“I won’t.”

The two of you started walking, your shoes splashing through shallow puddles, rain pattering on the umbrella above you like a quiet drumbeat. Ningning didn’t say much, she never did but she didn’t pull away when you bumped shoulders accidentally-on-purpose.

And when you turned your face up to her again, soaking in her rare company like sunshine, she finally gave in. A sigh. The faintest tug at the corner of her lips.

A smile.

Tiny. Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

But real.

You almost tripped over your own feet.

“Worth it,” you whispered under your breath, tucking your hands deeper into the too-long hoodie sleeves, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt.

Ningning glanced sideways at you.

She didn’t say it.

But you were pretty sure she was thinking it too.

Worth it.

It happened on a Thursday.

The rain from earlier in the week was long gone, leaving the air sticky and heavy, the pavement still damp in some places. You and Ningning had ended up sitting under the big oak tree at the edge of the field. half because you were waiting for a club meeting to start, half because Ningning never seemed to mind when you followed her around like a dedicated golden retriever.

You were doodling aimlessly in your notebook, trying to draw Waffles in increasingly ridiculous outfits, while Ningning scrolled through her phone beside you, pretending not to watch over your shoulder.

And you, like the sunshine oblivious hurricane you were, started talking without really thinking.

“Y’know, I used to sit by myself a lot at my old school,” you said casually, punctuating the sentence by sketching a tiny cowboy hat onto Waffles' head. “At lunch, at assemblies, whatever. It wasn’t, like, tragic or anything. People just kinda… forgot I existed sometimes.”

You laughed, light and unbothered, like you were telling a mildly embarrassing story about tripping onstage during a school play.

“They didn’t mean to, I guess. I’m pretty easy to forget if I’m not being loud. And when I am being loud, it’s just, like—annoying? So either way, it was easier for everyone if I just kept myself company.”

You laughed again, shrugging it off like you always did. Like it was fine. Like it was ancient history and it didn’t still ache sometimes, in small quiet ways you didn’t like to admit.

Ningning was silent.

Not her usual comfortable quiet, either. Not the kind where she was just content to let you ramble while she listened with half an ear.

This was different.

You glanced sideways at her.

She was staring straight ahead, phone forgotten in her lap, hands still.

For a second, you wondered if you’d messed up. If you’d made it awkward. If you should backpedal, crack a stupid joke, move on.

But before you could say anything, she spoke.

“They were stupid.”

The words came out low. Certain.

You blinked.

Ningning didn’t look at you. Just kept her gaze fixed on the soccer goals in the distance, the metal frames catching the late afternoon light.

“They were stupid,” she said again, voice steady but something else threading underneath it. “Anyone who made you feel like you didn’t matter. Anyone who looked at you and didn’t see—” she stopped, mouth tightening, like she wasn’t used to dragging feelings into the open air, “—everything you are.”

Your breath caught.

She finally turned her head, just enough that you could see her eyes. Serious. Unflinching. A little bit fierce in a way that made your heart clench.

“You’re not annoying,” she added, softer. “You’re... loud sometimes. And stubborn. And you talk too much.”

You snorted, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Wow. Compliments galore.”

“But you’re unforgettable,” she said, ignoring your crack completely. “And anyone who didn’t get that was an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to say.

The words stuck in your throat, tangled up with something warm and painful at the same time.

Because you realized, suddenly, that Ningning your silent, scowly, reluctant partner in crime wasn’t just saying it to be nice. She wasn’t saying it because she felt bad for you, or because she thought it was what you wanted to hear.

She meant it.

Every clipped, awkward, vulnerable word.

You laughed, too loud and a little watery. “You’re gonna make me cry, dude.”

“Don’t,” she said immediately, stiffening like the idea of dealing with tears was more terrifying than death.

You wiped your eyes anyway, grinning. “No promises.”

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above your heads. Someone whistled off in the distance, probably a soccer player wrapping up practice. Life kept moving around you.

But under the oak tree, it felt like the world had gone a little quieter. A little softer.

You scooted closer, knocking your shoulder lightly against hers.

Ningning didn’t move away.

You smiled at her, wide and blinding, because that’s what you did what you’d always done and because for once, you didn’t feel like you had to hide any piece of yourself.

“Thanks, grumpy cat.”

She rolled her eyes.

But a second later, when she thought you weren’t looking, she smiled too.

Small. Crooked. Real.

And maybe just maybe you weren’t as easy to forget as you used to believe.

It started with a new transfer student.

A week into the new semester, the classroom door swung open mid-morning, and in walked a boy with a bright grin, messy hair, and a charm level dangerously close to yours. Mr. Kwon, your homeroom teacher, introduced him as Jisung, transfer from another city, loves soccer, hates math, yadda yadda.

You were, of course, the first to wave enthusiastically, practically bouncing in your seat as you whispered, “New kid energy! Solidarity!” loud enough that half the class heard. Including Ningning, who gave you a look from across the room like you had personally offended her peace treaty with humanity.

Jisung ended up sitting two seats away from you. Which meant within three minutes, you were already chatting like you’d been childhood friends separated at birth.

You told him about the cafeteria’s tragic spaghetti days. He told you about getting lost in the gym for forty minutes during his tour. You bonded over mutual juice box obsessions.

It was harmless.

At least, you thought it was harmless.

The first time you noticed anything weird was lunch.

You and Jisung were heading toward your usual table when you almost dropped your tray. Ningning already sitting at the table, which she never did before you came along, looked up the second she saw you with someone new.

There was something sharp in her gaze. Something that made you falter mid-step.

She didn’t say anything. Just shoved an empty seat out with her foot, the scrape of metal on tile loud in the silence between you.

“Oh, uh—this is Jisung!” you chirped, awkwardly filling the air. “He’s cool. He got lost in the gym for forty minutes, so obviously he’s one of us now.”

Jisung gave a bright, clueless wave.

Ningning stared at him. Unblinking.

Poor guy looked like he aged five years under her gaze.

You rushed to sit down between them, laughing nervously. "Haha, so anyway, spaghetti today, right? Amazing. Life-changing. Michelin star."

Ningning said nothing. Just kept eating her rice like it personally wronged her.

You chalked it up to her being in a mood.

Until it kept happening.

Every time Jisung showed up next to you at lunch, after class, even during study hall, Ningning suddenly materialized too. Like clockwork. Like some grumpy guardian angel.

She never interrupted. Never said a word, really.

But she was there.

Hovering just close enough that you couldn’t forget it.

One afternoon, while you were trying to teach Jisung how to make those weird origami ninja stars (“Trust the process!” you kept saying as his kept collapsing into sad paper blobs), Ningning leaned back against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, watching.

And scowling.

And watching.

And scowling.

And every now and then, when you laughed a little too loud at Jisung’s dramatic paper-folding failures, her jaw would tighten just slightly.

It didn’t take long for her friends to catch on.

You found out the hard way when you heard a loud cough-cough “jealousy” (cough) from across the hallway.

Giselle was nearly falling off the bench she was sitting on, stifling laughter. Winter openly pointed at Ningning, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like “go get your girl”.

Karina, calm as ever, just sipped her iced coffee and raised one eyebrow, the universal signal for (we know everything, and we are judging you in the most loving way possible.)

Ningning, for her part, responded with a glare so icy it could’ve frozen the sun.

You, being your usual oblivious self, just waved at them all happily.

“Hi, guys!”

Karina choked on her drink.

Giselle had to walk away, giggling under her breath.

Winter looked like she might start filming the scene for posterity.

Meanwhile, Ningning stood stiffly at your side, the tips of her ears just barely pink.

You tugged on her sleeve without thinking, grinning up at her. “You okay? You look kinda warm? Want my juice box? It’s grape today.”

Ningning stared at you.

For a second, you thought she might actually say something sassy. Maybe tell you off. Maybe tease you.

Instead, she reached out and took the juice box without a word.

You blinked.

Giselle, thirty feet away, made an audible squeal sound.

Winter’s hands slapped over her mouth like she couldn’t believe what she just witnessed.

And Karina just nodded solemnly, like she was presiding over a historic event.

You had no idea what any of it meant.

But Ningning cracked the tiniest smirk around the straw as she sipped your grape juice.

And for some reason, your heart did the stupidest little flip.

It was just another normal afternoon.

Or it should’ve been, anyway.

You were out in the courtyard again, sitting cross-legged on the grass with your backpack flopped open beside you, laughing way too hard at something Jisung said. He was holding your phone dramatically like he’d just discovered the funniest meme on earth, and you were practically rolling, snorting so loudly that a nearby group of seniors turned around.

From across the field, Ningning watched.

Or more accurately, glared.

She sat perched on one of the low stone walls, arms crossed tight over her chest, foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the rock. Her brows were drawn together, mouth twisted in a flat line. The late sun lit up her hair like a halo, but there was nothing remotely angelic about the look she was sending in your direction.

Winter plopped down next to her, sipping her milk tea without a care in the world.

“Wow,” Winter said, after a few long seconds of heavy silence. “You know you’re glaring like you’re planning a murder, right?”

Ningning didn’t answer.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes further as Jisung nudged you with his shoulder and you laughed again, bright, sunny, a sound that made half the courtyard turn to look.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Seriously. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already.”

Still no answer.

Just more death-staring.

Winter leaned closer, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “You could just admit it, y'know.”

Ningning’s hands tightened where they rested on her arms. Her jaw clenched. Something uncoiled in her chest. hot and sharp and way too big to keep swallowing down anymore.

And before she could stop herself, before she could even think about stopping herself, she snapped:

“She’s mine—!”

The words rang out louder than she intended, cutting through the lazy hum of the courtyard.

Winter choked on her drink.

Ningning froze, realizing exactly what just came out of her mouth.

“I mean—” she sputtered immediately, face flushing faster than a struck match, “not mine mine. Just—! She’s—! I—! Shut up!”

Winter was wheezing now, half from surprise, half from unholy glee.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, clutching her side like she was physically in pain from holding in her laughter. “You actually said it. Out loud. In public. I’m never letting you live this down.”

Ningning practically leapt off the wall, hands fisted at her sides, burning with mortification. “I hate you,” she hissed under her breath.

“No you don’t,” Winter grinned, slapping her on the back as she passed.

Ningning muttered something incoherent and stormed across the courtyard, away from the scene of the crime, away from the warmth bubbling in her throat that she didn’t know how to deal with.

She didn’t even check if you heard.

She couldn’t.

If she looked back and saw you staring, saw you smiling at her the way you always did, open and blinding and so much. she wasn’t sure she’d survive it.

Not yet.

Not when she hadn’t figured out how to say it properly. How to tell you that somehow, without her even noticing it happen, you had become her favorite noise in a world that used to feel way too silent.

That you had made a home for yourself right inside her ribs, careless and fearless and so stupidly bright.

She wasn’t ready for you to know all that.

Not yet.

But maybe soon.

Maybe sooner than she thought.

It started out subtle.

You weren’t exactly the best at reading normal social cues, half the time you thought someone glaring at you meant they needed a hug but even you could tell something was weird.

Ningning was around more. Like, a lot more. You’d turn a corner and she’d be there, leaning against a locker. You’d walk into class and find her already sitting at your desk, idly flipping through your doodle-filled notebook. You’d get to lunch and she’d be saving a seat for you, one foot braced against the chair so no one else dared take it.

But she was… different.

Quieter.

Tighter.

Before, Ningning’s grumpiness had a sort of dry, almost playful edge when it came to you. Now? It felt heavier. Like there was something sitting on her chest she wasn’t saying.

And the looks God, the looks.

They were sharper. Longer. Like she was trying to figure out a puzzle where the pieces kept changing. Like maybe you were the puzzle, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw it across the room or frame it on the wall.

At first you brushed it off.

Maybe she was just tired. Midterms were coming up. You’d seen people lose their minds over physics homework for less.

But then it kept happening.

One afternoon, you were sitting under the old oak tree near the field, sketching random nonsense in your notebook. Jisung plopped down beside you, waving a bag of gummy bears like a peace offering, and you accepted them with a grin.

Mid-laugh, you glanced up and there she was.

Ningning.

Across the courtyard, leaning against the fence, watching.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes sharp enough to slice through the breeze.

You gave her a big wave, cheerfully flapping your arms.

She didn’t wave back.

Just stared.

For the first time in a long time, something in your chest twinged, not painful, exactly, but confusing in a way that made you want to wrap yourself in ten layers of hoodies and hide.

You turned back to Jisung, still smiling, but it felt wobbly now. Like a table with one leg too short.

It all came to a head two days later.

You were leaving history class, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, juice box in your hand (today's flavor: tropical punch), when Ningning fell into step beside you.

You blinked at her. She didn’t usually walk you to your next class unless she had something to say. But today, she just… walked. Silent. Brooding.

You glanced sideways at her. She looked like she was thinking about fifty things at once and none of them were nice.

After three minutes of heavy silence, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You skidded to a dramatic stop in the middle of the hallway, causing a freshman to nearly crash into you.

Ningning halted too, blinking down at you with a flicker of surprise.

You poked her lightly in the arm with your straw. “Okay. Real talk.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You took a deep breath, puffing your cheeks out before exhaling in a rush. “Did I do something wrong? You’re looking at me like I ate your cat.”

For a second, Ningning just stared at you.

Something flickered across her face. something almost like guilt, but faster, slipperier, gone before you could really catch it.

You shifted your juice box from one hand to the other, trying to smile even though your stomach twisted a little.

“If I, like, stepped on your vibe or whatever, you can just tell me,” you said, voice a little too chipper around the edges. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even buy you, like, three grape juice boxes. That’s friendship inflation, you know.”

Still, no answer.

Ningning’s gaze dropped to the floor.

And then she just... shrugged.

Shrugged like you hadn’t just offered her the sun.

Shrugged like none of it mattered.

The shrug hurt more than if she’d shoved you away.

Before you could say anything else, she muttered something under her breath, too soft to catch and turned, walking off down the hall like she was late for something.

Leaving you standing there.

Juice box limp in your hand.

Heart sinking just a little too low.

You stared after her, biting your lip.

For a second, a tiny, reckless second you wanted to chase after her. Grab her hand. Demand she tell you what was wrong because you could feel it pressing between you, thick and heavy and real.

But you didn’t.

You stood there for a beat longer, feeling stupid and heavy in a way you didn’t quite know how to name.

Then you shook yourself like a wet dog, slapped a too-bright smile back on your face, and marched toward your next class.

Maybe Ningning was just having a bad day.

Maybe you were reading too much into things.

Maybe you should just give her space.

Even if it stung.

You jammed your straw into your juice box and took an angry sip.

Tropical punch had never tasted so sour.

It was a slow unraveling.

Not the kind you noticed all at once. Not like a slap to the face or a door slammed in anger.

It was softer.

Quieter.

The kind of unraveling that you only realized was happening when you looked down one day and found the thread wrapped around your fingers, frayed and half-gone, without even knowing you'd been pulling it.

It started small.

Ningning stopped waiting for you after class.

Stopped looking up when you bounced into the room, waving your latest juice box or ridiculous meme at her like a trophy.

She still showed up sometimes, still sat in the same lunch spot, still walked down the same hallways but there was a new kind of distance now. A carefulness.

Like you were something she was trying not to touch.

At first you told yourself it was fine.

Maybe she was just busy. Maybe she was stressed. Maybe her cat had a dentist appointment. You could come up with a million reasons if you tried hard enough.

But it kept happening.

One morning, you rushed into homeroom ten minutes late, hair a mess, socks mismatched, clutching two coffees from the convenience store because you knew she’d forgotten breakfast again.

You slammed the cup down on her desk with a big, stupid grin. "Fuel for the grumpiest grump," you chirped.

Ningning barely glanced at it.

Barely glanced at you.

Just muttered a quiet, distracted thanks and went back to scribbling in her notebook.

Something in your chest dipped, low and heavy.

You stood there for a second, holding your own coffee with both hands, feeling like you’d just been left hanging in the middle of a high five.

And because it was you, because smiling was what you were good at, you just beamed wider, letting your voice stay bright.

“No worries!” you said, popping the straw into your coffee with a too-loud stab. “I know I’m a lot. Like... a lot a lot. Probably not what you signed up for when you answered that first question, huh?"

You laughed, short and airy.

She didn’t laugh back.

Didn’t even look at you.

And God, if that didn’t sting worse than anything else.

You sank into your seat beside her, pressing your coffee cup against your cheek like it could cool the heat rising under your skin.

Tried to focus on the blackboard. Tried not to hear the way your own heartbeat sounded too loud in your ears. Tried not to think about the way Ningning was sitting just a few inches away but felt like she was miles and miles out of reach.

Maybe you were too much.

Maybe you always had been.

People liked you at first, sunshine was easy to love when it wasn’t burning too close but eventually they drifted away. Got tired. Got annoyed. Left you blinking in the middle of an empty hallway, wondering what you’d done wrong.

You were used to it.

You’d learned how to patch over it with jokes and glitter pens and loud, messy smiles that made it hard for anyone to notice the cracks underneath.

You weren’t going to make Ningning feel guilty for that.

Not when she'd been the first person here to make you feel like you weren't shouting into a void.

Not when you still liked her way too much for your own good.

The bell rang, sharp and sudden, and you jumped a little.

Ningning was already packing up.

You watched her zip her bag and stand, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands like she didn’t want to touch anything bare.

She didn’t say goodbye.

Just walked out, shoulders hunched tighter than usual.

You stared after her, chewing your lip.

And then, like an idiot, you smiled again.

Waved at her retreating back even though she couldn’t see it.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to yourself, voice light, joking, the way it always was when things started to ache too much. “You probably just need space. I get it. I’m a lot sometimes. Loud and messy and—” you paused, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, “—and it’s okay."

You tucked your coffee cup under your arm, grabbed your backpack, and headed for your next class with your usual spring in your step.

If anyone noticed that your bounce was a little slower that day, no one said anything.

And that was fine.

Really.

You were used to walking on your own when people got tired of the sunshine.

You could do it again.

You just… kind of wished you didn’t have to.

It wasn’t even supposed to happen like that.

Ningning had convinced herself she was doing the right thing, giving you space, making sure she didn’t drag you down into the mess of her own fears. She thought if she pulled back first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you got bored. When you realized she wasn’t worth the trouble.

But the thing about sunshine was, it didn’t just go away quietly.

It dimmed.

It flickered.

And Ningning noticed.

It was in the way you didn’t rush to her side in the mornings anymore. You still smiled, still waved, but sometimes it took you a second longer, like you were checking first to see if you were welcome.

It was in the way you sat with your hands folded too neatly on your desk, fidgeting with your pen instead of nudging her arm and whispering about how your cat Waffles tried to eat a shoelace again.

It was in the way you caught yourself before reaching for her, pulling back at the last second with a small, polite laugh that made her chest hurt more than she knew how to explain.

Ningning knew she’d messed up.

She just didn’t know how badly until Yujin cornered her after lunch.

It wasn’t even a dramatic thing. No shouting, no slammed lockers. Yujin just leaned against the wall by the courtyard door, arms crossed, watching her with that calm, steady look that said she wasn’t here to play around.

"You think I don’t see it?” Yujin said, voice low. “You think none of us notice how she looks at you like you hung the damn stars?”

Ningning didn’t answer.

Didn’t meet her eyes.

Yujin pushed off the wall, stepping closer. Not threatening, just there, solid and impossible to ignore.

“If you’re going to make her sad,” she said, quiet but cutting, “you don’t get to keep her.”

The words landed sharp in Ningning’s gut.

She didn’t say anything for a long second.

Couldn’t.

Because she knew it was true.

You deserved better than someone who pushed you away because they were too scared to hold on.

Someone who let their own stupid fears take up more space than you.

Someone who was too much of a coward to just tell you the truth: that you mattered. That you were the brightest thing that had ever crashed into her world and she didn’t know how to live without you now.

“You’re hurting her,” Yujin added, a little softer. “And you don’t even see it, do you?”

Ningning opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

Because the truth was, she had seen it.

Had seen the tiny cracks in your smile, the way your eyes flickered down when she didn’t answer right away, the way you clutched your books a little too tightly sometimes, like you needed something to hold on to.

And she hated it.

Hated that she had done that to you.

Yujin sighed, like she was tired of being the voice of reason. "If you don't want her," she said, shrugging one shoulder, "someone else will."

The idea twisted something ugly in Ningning’s chest.

Because the thought of you turning that bright, blinding smile toward someone else, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to catch it, someone who wouldn’t freeze up at the weight of being wanted made her feel like she couldn’t breathe.

And for the first time, Ningning realized:

It wasn’t about protecting herself anymore.

It wasn’t about being safe.

It was about losing you.

And that was something she couldn't live with.

Not now.

Not ever.

She stood there long after Yujin walked away, the courtyard empty around her, the cold spring air biting at her skin. Thinking about the way you used to beam at her without hesitation. About the way you had looked today, smiling still, always smiling, but not reaching anymore.

She’d done that.

And if she didn’t fix it soon, she was going to lose the only person who had ever made her feel like she was more than just the grumpy girl everyone was scared of.

She didn’t know exactly how to fix it yet.

But she knew one thing:

She had to try.

Because you deserved someone who wasn’t afraid to stay.

And she wanted to be that person.

For you.

It started with the empty desk.

At first, Ningning told herself not to overthink it. Maybe you were running late. Maybe you had a dentist appointment. Maybe you just... weren’t feeling it today. It wasn’t like you owed her your presence every second of every day.

Except,

Except you always said good morning.

You always found her, somehow, even if you were half-asleep or juggling three juice boxes and a backpack that looked like it might swallow you whole.

You always showed up.

And today... nothing.

The clock ticked louder than usual. The seat beside her stayed stubbornly empty. Her hand kept twitching toward her phone under the desk.

By lunchtime, Ningning had abandoned all dignity.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked one of her classmates some guy who always sat two rows behind them and barely knew her.

He blinked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“No?” he squeaked. “Did she quit the school?”

Ningning almost bit his head off on the spot.

By the end of lunch, she’d asked at least five people and gotten zero answers, and her friends were starting to stare at her like she’d finally lost it.

Then Yujin, who was way too smug for someone who hadn't even helped, leaned in and said, “Her best friend’s by the vending machines.”

Ningning didn’t even hesitate.

She found the girl easily enough, leaning against the wall, sipping a soda, scrolling on her phone. Y/N’s friend, the sunshine-protector who always hovered nearby, watching with wary eyes.

Ningning didn’t bother with small talk.

"Where is she?"

The girl looked up, eyebrows raised. “Who’s asking?”

Ningning scowled. “Me.”

There was a long moment where Y/N’s friend just stared at her. Weighing. Judging. Probably remembering every time Ningning had made you look a little sad, a little confused.

Then, finally, she said, “She’s sick. Stayed home.”

Relief hit Ningning so hard her knees almost gave out.

Sick. Not gone. Not transferred away without saying goodbye. Just sick.

“She’s fine,” the friend added, clearly reading her panic. “Texted me this morning. Just a cold.”

Ningning should’ve left it at that.

She didn’t.

"Where does she live?"

The words were out before she could stop them.

The friend tilted her head, suspicious. “Why?”

Ningning hesitated. Felt the weight of every unspoken thing she hadn’t said to you pressing down on her.

"I just..." She scratched the back of her neck, cheeks burning. "I wanna make sure she’s okay."

Something flickered in the girl’s eyes. Approval, maybe. Or resignation.

“She likes strawberry milk,” was all she said before rattling off an address.

Ningning barely heard her over the thundering of her own heart.

Standing in front of your house half an hour later After school, clutching a bag from the corner store like a complete idiot, Ningning almost turned around five times.

This was stupid.

You probably didn’t even want to see her.

You probably had real friends, better friends, who didn’t ignore you for a week and then show up on your doorstep with strawberry milk and panic in their chest.

Still.

She rang the doorbell.

A second later, the door swung open and there you were, wrapped in a giant hoodie, hair a mess, nose red from blowing it too much. You looked like a fever dream.

Literally.

For a second, you just blinked at her.

Then you said, voice scratchy and small, “Ningning?”

Her throat closed up.

She shoved the bag at you, cheeks burning. “You’re sick. I brought stuff.”

You stared at the bag, then at her.

Then, softly, “You didn’t have to.”

Ningning wanted to say, ”I know.”

Wanted to say, ”I wanted to.”

Wanted to say, ”I miss you.”

Instead, she mumbled, “It’s not a big deal.”

Liar.

You smiled a little, the tired kind of smile, but still real. Still you.

And Ningning’s chest ached.

Behind her words, in the back of her mind, she could still hear Yujin’s voice: ”If you’re going to make her sad, you don’t get to keep her.”

She almost said it then.

Almost blurted out everything she was too scared to name.

But when you tilted your head, coughing into your sleeve and looking so small and sleepy and trusting, the fear won.

Again.

Ningning shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and said, “Get better soon. School’s boring without you.”

You laughed, even though it turned into a wheeze halfway through.

And Ningning the coward that she was just stood there for another second, burning the image of you into her mind, before mumbling some excuse about homework and walking away before she could do something reckless like kiss you.

Maybe someday she’d be brave enough to tell you the truth.

But for now...

She hoped the strawberry milk said enough.

There was a change. Small at first. Almost unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it.

But Ningning was looking.

It wasn’t that you stopped smiling, you still did, that bright, open grin she secretly looked for the second she walked into a room. You still bounced a little when you talked, still waved too enthusiastically when you spotted her across the quad. Still found reasons to be close, like the universe naturally spun you toward her orbit.

But there was a softness now. A hesitation.

When you laughed, it wasn’t quite as loud.

When you poked her arm to get her attention, it lingered just a second less.

When you talked, sometimes you would glance at her like you were searching for signs, permission, maybe to keep going.

Ningning hated it. Hated it because she knew she was the reason.

Ever since she'd shown up at your door like a walking panic attack, she hadn't known what to do with herself. Hadn’t said what she should’ve said. Hadn’t given you the words you so clearly deserved.

And now you were… retreating.

Still here, but holding yourself tighter.

She couldn’t stand it.

That’s why, one afternoon, when you sat beside her on the low wall outside school, knees tucked up, hands fiddling with the straw in your juice box, Ningning finally cracked.

"You mad at me?" she blurted out.

You blinked at her, startled. “What?”

She shifted uncomfortably, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “You're... different.”

You looked down at your drink, straw bobbing uselessly in the carton. Your voice, when it came, was soft enough that she had to lean in to catch it.

“No. I’m not mad.”

A pause.

"I’m just scared you'll disappear if I say the wrong thing."

The words hit her like a gut punch.

You, you, the one who filled every silence with sunshine and easy laughter you were scared. Of her.

Ningning went still.

For a second, she didn’t know what to say. Every instinct screamed at her to fix it, to do something, anything to wipe that sadness from your voice.

But she remembered something you said once, on a day when you were teasing her about her stubbornness. “Sometimes people just need you to stay, dummy."

So she stayed.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t let the fear in her own chest take over.

Instead, Ningning leaned back slightly on her palms, gaze fixed somewhere over your head at the slowly darkening sky, and said in the quietest, most serious voice you’d ever heard from her:

"I’m not going anywhere."

You looked up at her then. Really looked.

And Ningning, for once, didn’t look away.

No sarcasm. No teasing deflection. Just the truth, raw and clumsy between them.

Your mouth wobbled, like you were trying not to cry or laugh or maybe both. Then, slowly, you leaned your shoulder against hers.

Not saying anything.

Not asking anything.

Just believing her.

Ningning felt something in her chest click into place like maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t already ruined everything.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to be the person you already thought she was.

It was one of those evenings when the world felt just a little softer. The sky had started bleeding into shades of gold and pink, and the lazy breeze carried the distant sounds of laughter from students still hanging around after school events.

Ningning and you had found yourselves tucked away on the bleachers near the back of the soccer field, your backpacks tossed carelessly at your feet, half-eaten snacks between you.

It was easy like this. Comfortable. Like there was no rush to be anywhere else.

You were sitting cross-legged, absently twirling the straw of your juice box, gaze flickering up toward the clouds with a distracted sort of wonder Ningning always secretly liked watching. She was leaning back on her palms, head tilted, pretending not to be waiting for you to say something because you always said something. It was just a matter of time.

But today you were quiet longer than usual. And for once, she found herself fidgeting first, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, you broke the silence.

"Hey…"

Your voice was light but nervous around the edges. Ningning immediately sat up a little straighter, wary.

"You know how you’re always saying I talk too much?" you asked, lips quirking in a soft smile.

Ningning snorted, the familiar reaction automatic. "Because you do."

Your grin grew, but it was gentler this time, almost fragile. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at her properly, and Ningning's chest tightened at how serious your eyes were, even though your mouth kept smiling like you were trying to make it easier for both of you.

"Then let me get this one last thing out before I explode, okay?" you said, almost sheepish.

She didn’t say anything. Just stared. Frozen in place.

You inhaled slowly, like you were pulling courage from the air itself, and then you said it. Gently. No fanfare. No dramatic buildup. Just the truth, small and seismic all at once.

"I like you. A lot. And I don’t expect you to say it back. I just wanted you to know."

There. It was out.

You looked down immediately, fiddling with your juice box, pretending like you weren’t desperately wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You didn’t even seem to expect an answer, you were ready to leave it hanging in the air, heavy and awkward if it needed to be.

Ningning, on the other hand, was malfunctioning.

She blinked at you. Once. Twice. Brain scrambling to catch up to the words that had just shattered whatever safe little bubble she thought she was living in.

She should say something. Anything.

But instead, her mouth refused to work, and her face betrayed her completely because she could feel the heat rushing up her neck, painting her cheeks in a furious, undeniable blush.

You peeked at her, saw it, and your lips twitched into the tiniest, bravest smile.

"It's okay," you said quickly, saving her from herself. "You don’t have to say anything."

And true to who you were, you didn’t push. You didn’t beg for an answer. You just sat there, picking at the edge of your shoe with a quiet kind of acceptance that made Ningning’s chest ache.

Because you were always like that.

Always giving more than you took.

Always making it easy for her to stay closed off if she needed to.

Ningning didn't say anything that day. She couldn't. Every instinct screamed at her to run or hide or pretend she hadn’t heard. And that terrified her more than anything else because for the first time, it wasn’t annoyance or obligation that kept her sitting beside you. It was the pure, aching need to be close to you.

The walk home was filled with comfortable nonsense chatter from you, mercifully moving on like nothing happened, giving Ningning the space she didn’t know she needed.

But that night, she barely slept. Tossed and turned, kicking herself for freezing up, for letting you pour your heart out and giving you nothing back.

The next day, she found you sitting under the same oak tree you always gravitated to during lunch, headphones in, sketching something in a notebook with that same determined little furrow between your brows.

Ningning stomped toward you before she could talk herself out of it.

You looked up, eyes brightening instinctively at the sight of her, even though there was a flicker of nervousness there too. Like you were bracing for the worst.

Ningning sat down beside you with a huff, tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve.

Then, grumbling under her breath, cheeks already burning again, she muttered: "You’re annoying."

You blinked, caught between laughter and confusion. Before you could open your mouth, she continued, glaring fiercely at the grass like it personally offended her:

"And I think I like you too. So don’t say it to anyone else, okay?"

You froze. Stared at her.

And then your grin broke out, huge and blinding and real, and Ningning had to look away before she embarrassed herself even more.

You bumped your shoulder against hers, laughing under your breath, and Ningning’s heart did something ugly and messy and beautiful all at once.

If she didn’t die from how ridiculously happy you looked, she might actually survive this after all.

From the outside, nothing looked official.

There were no grand declarations, no cutesy nicknames or couple selfies flooding the school group chats. Ningning and you simply… were.

But anyone who paid even a little attention could tell something had shifted.

Ningning, the same girl who once inspired urban legends about her death glare alone, now casually waited by your classroom door every day, pretending she just happened to be passing by. Her earbuds would be in, hood up, expression blank but the second you appeared, all bright smiles and stumbling steps, she'd straighten up, her gaze softening in a way that would’ve made the school population collectively faint if they hadn’t already become weirdly desensitized to it.

She didn’t even try to hide the way she leaned closer when you talked, close enough for your elbows to brush, close enough for your laugh to hit her full force. She didn’t explain why she sometimes pulled you into quieter hallways after class, using the flimsiest excuses ("Too noisy," "Don’t want to deal with people") just to have a moment alone where she could listen to you babble about your day without interruption.

And God help anyone who so much as looked at you for too long.

One afternoon, you were chatting animatedly with a kid from your biology lab, a friendly sort, maybe a little too friendly and Ningning materialized out of nowhere. She said nothing. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression dark enough to send the poor guy stammering out a goodbye before he'd even finished his sentence.

You watched him retreat with wide eyes, then turned to her, half-laughing. "Was that necessary?"

Ningning just shrugged, the faintest smirk pulling at her lips.

It wasn’t until the third time she intercepted someone talking to you (even if it was just someone asking for a pencil) that you finally asked, voice full of tentative hope and unbearable affection:

"So are we… like… girlfriend-girlfriends, or…?"

Ningning, without missing a beat, muttered, "Shut up," and walked ahead of you, leaving you scrambling to catch up with a stupidly wide grin stretching across your face.

Later that day, tucked into the back corner of the cafeteria with her closest friends, one of them nudged Ningning in the side when they caught her staring at you across the room, your head bent over your tray as you enthusiastically told a story to another friend.

"Are you finally going to admit you’re obsessed with her?" they teased, knowing full well the consequences of poking the dragon.

Ningning rolled her eyes but didn’t even bother denying it this time. "...we are," she mumbled, barely audible but entirely certain.

Her friends just grinned like a bunch of proud parents.

It wasn’t long before the rest of Ningning’s tiny, fiercely loyal circle started showing their approval too. In their own weird, slightly terrifying ways.

One of them Winter, who you’d always found a little intimidating despite her sweet face caught you by your locker one afternoon. She leaned against the metal, arms folded casually, and said without preamble:

"You’re good for her." You blinked, mid-stuffing your bag with books. "Um. Thanks?"

Winter smirked. "You’re the only one she listens to, you know."

Heat rushed up your neck, and you laughed awkwardly, shoving a notebook deeper into your backpack just to have something to do. "Honestly, I thought she barely tolerated me when we first met."

Winter’s smirk softened into something almost fond. "She let you sit next to her. That was already love."

You stood there for a moment after she walked away, heart thudding stupidly loud in your chest.

Because maybe you hadn’t tamed the infamous Ningning. Maybe you’d just seen her, the real her before anyone else had been brave enough to try. And maybe, just maybe, she was letting you stay because you were the first person who didn’t expect her to be anything she wasn’t.

You zipped up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder with a little more lightness in your step, feeling stupidly giddy as you spotted Ningning waiting by the front doors, her hoodie slouched over her frame, her gaze immediately finding yours across the crowd.

Not official. Not loud.

But so real you could feel it in your bones.

You didn’t call it a date.

Obviously.

Because Ningning would combust on the spot if you even hinted at the word.

So, naturally, when you met up outside the little downtown bookstore-café hybrid on a cloudy Saturday afternoon, you greeted her with a mischievous grin and chirped, "Ready for our super casual, not-a-date, gal pal hangout?" loud enough for three strangers nearby to hear.

Ningning gave you a look that could’ve soured milk, tugging her hoodie lower over her head as if it could shield her from the embarrassment radiating off your sunshine soul. Still, she didn’t leave.

Instead, she wordlessly pushed open the door for you, the little bell above the frame jingling softly, and followed you inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. (You didn’t miss the way she subtly moved so she stood between you and the rest of the street before doing so either. Classic grump moves.)

Inside, the air smelled like old pages and cinnamon coffee, and you immediately spun around, practically bouncing in place.

"This is perfect," you gushed, beaming at her. "We can get books and snacks. Best non-date ever!"

Ningning rolled her eyes, but you caught the twitch at the corner of her mouth the almost-smile she always tried to bury around you.

You wove your way through the shelves, pulling her along by the sleeve when she lagged behind. She didn’t complain, not once, even when you spent fifteen whole minutes agonizing over which ridiculous romance novel to buy. (She ended up grabbing the one you hesitated on the longest and tossing it onto the counter without a word while you gaped at her.)

"You didn’t have to buy that," you mumbled, clutching the book like it was a trophy.

"Shut up," she said, already tapping her card against the reader before you could stop her.

You tried, half-heartedly, to insist on paying for your coffee and snack afterward too, but she leveled you with such an unimpressed stare that you caved immediately.

"Fine, fine," you sighed dramatically, sipping your overpriced latte. "You’re the sugar mommy in this very platonic gal pal outing."

The café was tiny, barely five tables squeezed between bookshelves and old couches, but Ningning found a seat tucked in the corner and motioned for you to join her with a tilt of her head. She sprawled back casually, one arm draped over the back of the couch and you, being you, immediately leaned your head against her shoulder with a pleased little sigh.

You felt her stiffen for a second.

Just for a second.

And then she relaxed.

Didn’t move away.

Didn’t even pretend to be bothered.

Outside the window, the sky threatened rain. Inside, tucked in the crook of Ningning’s arm, sipping lukewarm coffee and pretending not to feel the way her fingers lightly tapped against your shoulder in distracted patterns, you couldn’t help smiling to yourself.

When you glanced up at her because you couldn’t help it, you never could, she was already looking at you.

Like you were something delicate she wasn’t sure how to touch but didn’t want to stop trying.

A couple of people passed by the window, throwing curious glances inside. Ningning’s eyes narrowed immediately, and you watched in barely concealed amusement as she shifted, angling herself so she was more in the way, blocking you from view like some kind of disgruntled bodyguard.

"My hero," you whispered teasingly.

"Shut up," she muttered, but her hand brushed against yours under the table, pinky finger barely hooking around yours in a move so casual, so tiny, it might’ve been an accident.

You knew it wasn’t.

You leaned a little closer, your voice soft and ridiculously fond.

"You like me."

Ningning snorted, gaze flickering away.

"You’re delusional."

You just grinned, utterly content to sit there for as long as she’d let you, head on her shoulder, pinkies tangled, pretending it was just a gal pal hangout even though your heart was screaming otherwise.

If this wasn’t a date, you didn’t want to know what was.

It was the last assembly of the year. The kind where everything felt heavy with finality, where the air buzzed with the mixed emotions of relief, excitement, and a little bit of sadness. The seniors were preparing to leave, the underclassmen were already mentally checked out for summer, and Y/N stood there in the middle of it all, wide-eyed and buzzing with her usual, unmistakable energy.

Her excitement was palpable, like it always was. She had her bright, sunny smile on, bouncing between conversations with a few of her friends as they all tried to make the most of the last event of the year. But she couldn’t help feeling like something was different today. Maybe it was the way the room felt more alive than it ever had before, or maybe it was the strange warmth that had been radiating between her and Ningning these past few weeks something unspoken, yet undeniably there.

The last few days had been an odd mixture of soft moments and quiet confessions. No labels yet nothing official but it was clear to everyone who had been watching that something had shifted between them. Ningning, the girl who used to glare at everyone and push people away, now let Y/N walk into her space without hesitation, sat with her at lunch, and shared moments that made the world feel a little less overwhelming. It had always been her, really, but now it felt more real than ever.

The teasing started casually enough, a light jab from one of Y/N’s classmates who, for whatever reason, thought it’d be funny to poke fun at how much time she spent with Ningning. They were joking about how attached Y/N was to her “grumpy friend” when the mood suddenly shifted.

Ningning, who had been sitting off to the side with her arms crossed, listening to the banter with her usual deadpan expression, shot up from her seat with the sharpness of a blade. Everyone around them froze in a collective gasp as she stepped forward, her posture stiff and unyielding, her gaze burning through the group of students like they had crossed a line.

It was so sudden that even Y/N flinched slightly, her heart jumping in her chest at the sudden surge of protective energy emanating from her usually reserved friend.

“You want to say that again?” Ningning’s voice was low, cool, and without a hint of humor.

The teasing student, who had been more than willing to poke fun at Y/N just moments ago, looked like they regretted their words instantly. The room seemed to hold its breath, every student watching in stunned silence. Even the teachers exchanged a glance as if unsure whether to intervene or just let this unfold.

Ningning’s eyes never wavered from the student’s face, her gaze hard as steel, as she crossed her arms with an air of finality. The air in the room felt thicker now, charged with something that was unmistakably protective fierce and loyal, but undeniably soft in its own way.

The student cleared their throat awkwardly. “I was just joking, I didn’t mean—”

“You heard me,” Ningning cut them off, her voice quiet but firm. “She’s mine. You want to say that again?”

It was the kind of moment that made everyone’s heart skip, because it wasn’t just a declaration, it was an undeniable truth, one that had no need for explanation. It was protective. It was possessive, but not in a toxic way. It was simple and raw, like Ningning was quietly, without a second thought, claiming the one person she hadn’t known she needed so badly.

Y/N stood frozen, caught between a mix of shock and elation, and then, before anyone else could say anything, she heard her own voice cut through the stillness, her words a little breathless with disbelief and delight.

“That was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said, her heart soaring as she looked up at Ningning, eyes wide with something that resembled awe.

Ningning blinked, looking flustered for just a moment. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and her usual tough exterior cracked for the briefest of seconds.

“…Shut up,” she muttered, trying to hide her smile behind a mask of irritation.

But Y/N knew better. She saw it, the faint, soft curve of Ningning’s lips that she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried.

Y/N grinned, a wide, impossibly happy grin that lit up her whole face. Her hands practically itched to reach out and pull Ningning into a hug, but she held herself back, unsure if that would make Ningning explode. Instead, she just stood there, basking in the small but powerful shift that had just taken place.

The room slowly exhaled, the tension dissipating, but there was something else now, something more lingering and beautiful. The whole school seemed to have witnessed the small but undeniable shift in the dynamic between the two of them, Ningning, who had once kept everyone at arm’s length, had just made it clear she wasn’t letting anyone else get close to her sunshine.

It wasn’t a dramatic confession or some big, showy gesture. It was simple. Quiet. But that was enough.

Ningning stood there for a beat longer, clearly trying to hide the softness that had melted into her features. She finally gave a sharp nod and turned away, her back still rigid but her steps slower than before.

Y/N’s heart raced, and she couldn’t help but take a step toward her, smiling like she was the luckiest person in the world.

As the assembly continued around them, with the same buzzing energy and undercurrent of chatter, Y/N felt it, the undeniable shift. She didn’t need grand gestures or overly complicated words. She just needed this. Ningning. The girl who had been her protector in the most subtle, beautiful ways.

She watched as Ningning glanced back at her one last time before walking off, her eyes softening just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment between them.

And for the first time, Y/N knew without a doubt: This was the beginning of something that didn’t need to be said out loud. It was already theirs.

[spacequokka]

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[4vanaa]

— MODERN FAMILY.

an outer banks alternate universe

— PAIRINGS dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader | dad!jj maybank x mom!kiara carrera | dad!pope heyward x mom!cleo | dad!john b routledge x mom!sarah cameron | singlefather!topper thornton | uncle! barry |

— SYNOPSIS a slice-of-life series that takes you into the heart of one big, chaotic, and loving family. at the center of it all is you and rafe navigating the ups and downs of parenthood with your own kids—ranging from toddlers to teenagers—while trying to balance your relationship, your personal growth, and the wild, unpredictable moments that come with raising a family. but it’s not just about you, the obx cast is all here. they all have their own families, with different parenting styles, dynamics, and struggles.

— TROPES/TAGS established relationships, slice of life, chaotic family dynamics, fluff, very mild angst, humor, original characters, everyone’s married, parenthood, no real plot, everything is a standalone.

TEASER

—MEET THE FAMILIES 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 |

REQUESTS/DRABBLES.

HEADCANONS.

ONESHOTS.

SMAUS/TEXTS.

a/n: credits to @zyafics for the layout!! this work is also inspired by @papercranesandinkstains elementary smau. and credits to @vesearartistry for the dividers!! heavily inspired by modern family. there is no plot, every drabble/headcanon are all in the same universe but not needed to understand the other. if you’d like to request something you’d like to see just comment below here, or send an ask.

🏷️ taglist: if you’d like to be tagged for this smau, or any future or current ones, you can reply and i’ll add you!!

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who works as the head chef in a three star restaurant. Is very passionate about his cooking and baking, although he prefers cooking. Let's the confectioner handle the sweets.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates costumers or guests, who think they can outsmart him, by complaining about the 'dry steak', however he simply makes them go home. This way, him and his colleagues have less stress.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who gets criticized because of his strict rules in his restaurant by the press. However, he just wants to make sure it's enjoyable and calm. Without any guests trying to get more free food by playing a victim.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates the press.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates taking the fresh products from the delivery guy, because he's more than talkative. Always makes anyone else go than himself.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who (sometimes) hates his colleagues. Mostly Soap, because he manages to set at least two pans on fire every day and then always ends up staying late to help the cleaning ladies with their job.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who once threw a tomato at Soap for pissing him off, then said; »Be happy that wasn't my knife, you wanker!«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who sometimes gets carried away and talks more loudly than usual, making some guests question if the work morals are actually okay or not.

»Just follow the damn orders, you carrot!« »If the costumer said 'no garlic', then it means 'no garlic'! I don't need this place to be shut down because of your stupid ass.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who either loves it or hates it when familys with children come in. Asks the waiter or waitress who took their orders about them, being happy if the kid is well behaved.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who loves to cook things off the kid's menu, likes to serve it himself when he knows the child/children are nice and not little gremlins.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who rants to himself whenever something upsets him in the slightest way.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to think that you are his favourite coworker. Knows about your excellent degree, enjoys your food and new recipes and loves the fact that you're always on time. Others can't compare.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to gossip with you on breaks over a cigeratte or a cup of tea.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who always makes sure that Velvet's desserts are perfect. It's his most loyal costumer, and the sweetest elder lady on earth.

»Of course, we'll make the most sweetest cheesecake as possible.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who wants to put his hands into the mixer after he heard Velvet compliment you, then following up with, »I'm surprised chef Riley hasn't fallen for you already. I'd be distracted in the kitchen if I had to work with you.« Because she is somehow managed to hit a nerve.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who tries to make you do other work, like organising the storage room and collecting the deliveries, or even cleaning out the containers outside. Just to be more focused on his work... but you're starting to hate it.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who makes Soap shut up with another tomato once he tries to tease Ghost about his 'crush'. Then contemplated with the thoughts of shutting the place down because of his antics.

⟨part 2⟩

a/n: got this idea while reawatching a random series from my childhood, so here you go. hope you enjoyed! (divider @vesearartistry) I'd happily take more requests for this AU, just drop it into my inbox!! Also, he reminds me of Gordon Ramsay.

←MASTERLIST

taglist

[mopslusher]

Motivation

NSFW

Thinking about y/n casually hanging around the gym that Hamzah trained at, messing around with the weights and doing stupid challenges with Chase like ‘who can do five sets of turbulence?’ as Hamzah worked his ass off, his olive skin glistening with sweat as he pushed himself further and further. Of course his main goal was to beat Martin, yet he couldn’t help the voice in his head that told him he had to get bigger, better for you.

I mean, he could barely concentrate, the sound of your laughter from the other side of the gym distracting him as he punched, ducked and weaved. Maybe it was the litres of caffeine he had practically inhaled before this gym session, adrenaline pumping through his veins making him a horny angry mess as he swung his fists again and again, the faint sound of your laughter riling him up more and more as he grunted and growled under his breath, his arms aching and burning from the hours of continuous training.

He couldn’t help it when his mind began to wander as he glanced over at you, sitting pretty on the gym bench chatting away in your all white lulu lemon set that complimented your skin perfectly, the material clinging to every curve and dip your body had carved, the way your thighs squished and expanded in the way you sat, how badly he wanted to be between them was almost angering, the set outlining your fat juicy core that he could’ve sworn made him salivate, if only he could get a taste right then and there. The way your breasts spilled out of the top half of the set and jiggled every time you laughed, oh how he wished he could be the Tiffany necklace that got lost between them so warm and safe, if only he could-

“Hamzah”

He snapped back into reality, his breathing heavy and laboured, either from his perverted thoughts or the merciless training. Probably both.

“I’m takin a break” he huffed his mouth parted as heavy breaths left them as he made his way over to the restrooms. ‘Probably the fuckload amount of coffee he drank’, Martin thought as Hamzah passed him, a smug scoff leaving his lips that Hamzah chose to ignore not bothering to even make eye contact. Little did Martin know Hamzah had a much, much bigger issue at hand. His dick that throbbed in his shorts for you, rock hard and longing for any kind of contact, it was almost painful how desperate he had become from a single glance at you. From then he knew he’d have to start making some kind of excuse as to why you couldn’t tag along to the gym with him anymore, even if it meant taking away his only real motivation.

Hope y’all enjoy this oneeee 😝 dividers by @vesearartistry !!

Part 2 here

[thewanderingkaya]

through depths and the shadows of adversity .

pairing: teen!gojo x reader

summary: your bond with Satoru has an intricate history together, starting from the former years in Jujutsu High.. 

wordcount: 1.6K 

a/n: g/n reader, I love teen Gojo, and I love friends to lovers, so why not combine the two?  this doesn’t have any suggestive just reader and teen satoru bullying each other. I feel like it shows a stronger and more intimate bond. this is mainly about the relationship and funny little shenanigans gojo and reader go through. Live laugh love high school sweethearts <3 

dividers : @vesearartistry

TEEN GOJO who pranks anyone and everyone in Jujutsu High, including you. Giggling as he crouches by the corridor; ready to observe your pitiable fate. Poor you falling victim to his stunts, stepping out of your room freshly showered and clean, that is until you step across the threshold. Water collected ina  bucket from - as you could guess - the ditches douses your hair, trickling down your shoulders as your frame freezes up. Your ears are pierced with cackles of laughter, looking over to spot the little nuisance responsible for this practical joke. White tufts of hair bouncing as he snickered away. Your response - simply the most mature thing to do - slip a few insects with one too many limbs into his pillowcase. Shrieking with laughter as you heard satoru’s own shrieks with pure horror, followed by thuds and unnerving crashes. The next morning, your sight is blessed with a mattress and a bed frame strewn about in the hallway, a very suspiciously bed-shaped hole in the wall of Satoru’s dorm room.

TEEN GOJO who slams the door to your room open without a care in the world, his stride unnaturally purposeful. You whipping your head around, battle ready, just to see a dumbass dramatically checking your shelf of trinkets. Unbothered by your presence as he snatches your possessions from the shelf. Shuffling through your personal collection of books, picking them out as if in a public library. Satoru strolls out of your room satisfied, his arms cradling several of your belongings. Leaving you staring at the door, wide-eyed with bewilderment.

TEEN GOJO who constantly flicks your forehead no matter where you are, staring at the blackboard as Yaga explained the consequences of overexertion in battle, practicing your cursed techniques in the courtyard, bickering in an abandoned building as you scout out a special grade… Managing to swerve and dodge inexhaustible attacks of First Grade cursed spirit you were able to maim quite competently.. Preparing yourself to land a killing strike, your engrossment in the battle was ruptured. A perfect circular cavity was present in the cursed spirit’s body, making its remaining flesh a simple hollow shell. Your eyes rounded as you peered straight through the sizable hole, a pair of blue eyes glimmering with complacency stared back at you through the corpse; now collapsed to the ground in a flourish of dust particles. Your mouth hung open as he made his way to you, the swagger in satoru’s pace made you grit your teeth. A frown pulled on your features as you stared up at the giraffe standing before you; a smug grin tugged on his lips and hands placed nonchalantly in his pockets. Your mouth flung open to scold him when you were interrupted; a forceful and sharp pain in your forehead made you flinch. You stared at him, baffled. He had flicked you. The twig fingered bastard stole your final blow and then flicked you. 

TEEN GOJO, who finds it unfortunate that your sense of emotional development hasn’t matured either. Every time the scamp would flick your head with his boney fingers, you stooped down to his level, reaching up to him to give him a taste of his own medicine. Only for him to veer from your vengeful attack. You made do with punching him in the gut every time he violated your poor forehead. Most times when you get caught up in your dispute, it compromises your mission. Earning a strong scolding and punishment from Yaga. 

TEEN GOJO who would constantly wear your clothes, prancing around campus pretending to be you. You would walk into a room and look up to see a sight to behold. Satoru flailing and mocking you with overzealous facial expressions, a high-pitched voice to top it off. You just stand there in the doorway as he performs for Suguru and Shoko, their giggles evaporate as they caught sight of your boiling fury. It takes satoru longer than it should have to notice his audience’s sudden silence, and even longer for him to turn around. When he does he does it with a flourish, halting in his tracks as he locks eyes with yours. Suguru and Ieiri take their leave swiftly as your hands balled up into fists. Not long after, satoru could be seen trailing you - or should I say being dragged by the ear - half naked, your clothes disheveled, assuringly ripped straight from his body. 

TEEN GOJO who would use his infinity every time you tried to hit him, he learned the hard way how hard your blows are. He turns his infinity on subconsciously, often forgetting he has such a power, or fearing your deadly blows and might would shatter her infinity somehow. Every time you try to hit satoru, he lets out a deafening shriek, almost inhumane. The first time he did it was during a class ridden with silence, satoru tiptoed from behind you, plotting to tip your chair back. A squeal made everybody turn around, beheld with the sight of satoru on the ground, hands up in frightened defense, and you on top of him, your chair held high over your head. He can never outlive that embarrassment of a moment. 

TEEN GOJO who would make unnecessary and stupid scenarios at the most random times. Including the less convenient times too. It annoyed not just you, but everyone else too. Satoru would scan the elders facial expressions contort as he asked about the effects of cursed energy during, uh… A mischievous grin appearing on his face as well as slowly appearing on yours. Respect for higher powers wasn’t Satoru’s strong suit, neither was it yours, although you knew when to shut up.. Satoru on the other hand obviously did not. You couldn’t count the number of times you shoved a hysterical satoru with your elbow - multiple times in fact - as a quite stoic elder stood before you. Yet he wouldn’t shut up, until Masamichi gave you both punishment. 

TEEN GOJO who would be weirdly affectionate to you. Coming up behind you and laying his head on yours, casually flopping onto the couch that you were sitting on laying his feet or his head on your lap as if you were merely a part of the sofa, leaning on your shoulder whenever he gets tired of standing. You could call it a blessing, until you had to deal with a lanky piece of dead weight on your back, or bring mercilessly dragged everywhere as repercussion from the leverage he has over you - with his height, leverage over everybody..

TEEN GOJO who would boast and jeer when you got injured, him being nearly untouchable only encouraged his nuisance behavior. He would be walking past the infirmary dangerously slow, purposefully and noisily gloating about how he didn’t earn a scratch on that mission. You just stared holes into the strongest with an unamused roll of your eyes. Satoru pretended not to notice you, snickering as he kept crowing down the hallway.

TEEN GOJO and you who would provoke each other with ultimatums - one would call it childish games. Who can chug the most sake without passing out? Who can take down the most cursed spirits in a limited amount of time? Who can make it from one side of Jujutsu campus to the other without touching the ground or roof? The latter would end up with destroyed walls, startled staff, and a very disappointed and exhausted principal. But none of it ever created a rift between you too, but it developed your chemistry. Competitive delinquency at its finest. 

TEEN GOJO who - you never thought would - listens to all your stories and every thought you had to share. Remembering even the littlest things that you forgot about yourself. Years of information accumulated in his head, down to your specific moods that made you fancy certain things. You always thought he tuned you out, or at least didn’t care about what you had to say. After all, your friendship was built off of bullying and smart remarks. You didn’t mind anyhow, you weren’t expectant of that. His mind always seemed busy, yet he recalls the feelings and opinions you had about foods, tv shows, behaviors. It baffled you every time he made a quick remark or joke you just had to stop and stare. 

TEEN GOJO who would drag you outside, far away from campus borders in the middle of the night. His hand seizing yours with a grip that makes it hard for you to believe that you could ever let go.. Not that you would ever want to. He takes you to an abandoned park, clear from cursed spirits in which he annihilated before hand, grass and other shrubbery peeking through cracks in the concrete, moss scattered across paths where residents once tread. He led you up a hill and into a clearing, pale moonlight poured into the open glade where a destroyed building had opened up and shrouded over with green, a sight to remember.. That night you didn’t get a second of sleep. Exploring the buildings and making quips at each other, only finally resting on the meadow when the moon departed and the sun bathed the surface. 

TEEN GOJO who after a long day, makes himself at home in your room, always seemingly searching for your presence. Helps himself to your cash of snacks hidden behind a cabinet while you’re asleep, he knows you keep a variety of his favourite sweet treats for him like you knew he would be rummaging through the stash. He finds comfort in simply lying with you, whether you are conscious or not, cracking jokes or having deep conversations. Satoru’s arms crossed, propping his head up to stare at the ceiling, his head turns to you. He notices the way your features fall as they sit relaxed, how peaceful your breathing pattern is. Soon, his eyelids feel heavy and he falls asleep with you, arm draped across your shoulders and his snores jumbled with yours.

© thewanderingkaya 2025, please do not copy, credit any of my work, or reupload or translate to other platforms.

[buckets-and-trees]

Bucky Barnes Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my og wife @vesearartistry

Series & Collections

FINE LINE a near-future dark omegaverse AU DARK STORY, omegaverse dynamics, scenes of dubious consent, angst, manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping, explicit smut

↠ part one: Give Up [500] ↠ part two: Falling Away [1.5k] ↠ part three: Every Minute Of It [4k] ↠ part four: Entanglement [4.9k] ↠ part five: No Way Out [5.9k] ↠ part six: Under Siege [8.5k]

DEVOUR - complete soft!dark mob boss!Bucky AU explicit smut with feels

SERIES: ↠ salt non/dub-con ↠ fat ↠ acid ↠ heat

MINOTAUR BUCKY modern/mythical AU Minotaur!Bucky x female!scientist!Reader soft!dark, smut, monster fucking, tw: dub-con

↠ Sacrificial [3.5k] ↠ Arrangement [3.2k] ↠ Do You Remember? [460]

CHOSEN - complete a modern AU with soft!dark, mystical, and cult elements eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha x Reader scenes, Natasha x Reader x Steve scenes, Natasha x Steve SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut (with feelings and without feelings), dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, entrapment, natural sleeping drugs

INSTALLMENTS: ↠ Arrival [3.4k] ↠ Lunch [3.2k] ↠ Consideration [4.4k] ↠ Semantics [3.4k] ↠ Preparation [3.2k] ↠ Procession [4.2K] ↠ Offering [3.2k] ↠ Binding [2.9k] ↠ Transformation

BED CHEM a modern AU traipsing through hook-up culture explicit smut

↠ Parking Lot Chem [6.7k] ↠ Camaraderie [3.4k] ↠ Even Better Than In My Head [2.9k] (no smut) not complete, but not a series - updates sporadically

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse series Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5k]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Steve

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN  a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise mentions of ex-wife!Reader, Steve and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

DESPERATE TO DEVOTED a rivals to lovers post-TFATWS verse

↠ Desperate [3k] SMUT, dubious consent, sex pollen, kidnapping ↠ Uncertain and Sure [550] slight angst, feels, no smut ↠ Insatiable [1850] fluff and explicit smut ↠ Big Conversation [1.1k] little bit of fluff and sass ↠ Too Hot [700] light smut

Double-Shots

Perfectionists[2.2k] + Test Play [1.8k] Game Designer!Bucky, modern AU, smut

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays [3.6k] + the morning after [2.3k] modern AU, smut

What You Want [2.7k] + Now That I Saw You [4k] lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant!reader modern AU

Talk [2k] + Feel [2.3k] Pleasure Dom!Bucky (modern AU), smut, BDSM

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k] + Camaraderie [3.4k] modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

IN THE OPEN AIR  Out of These Waters [7.9k] + That Shore Up Above [continued TBD] Gender Bend Mermaid AU

One-Shots

Into Cursed Pixie Dust [9k] morally grey Winter Soldier, smut, tw: infidelity, tw: slightly dub con

Poison Blood from the Wound of the Pricked Hand [3k] Post TFATWS!Bucky, sultry but not smutty

Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams [8k] dark, ignore Endgame/Steve stays, smut, unhappy ending

He Bought a Studio [4.3k] Bucky x Natasha ignore Endgame Steve stays, 5 times x 1 time, smut and fluff

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have [2k] DARK FIC, dark!Wanda + Bucky x gender neutral!Reader, non-con/dub-con smut

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k]  modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

The Pool Party Op [1.2k] post-TFATWS Bucky, smut

Meet Cute [2.2k]  modern AU, first piece in the Trader James Collection

Saturday Night Movie Marathon [2.4k] modern au, smut

Don’t Blame Me [<1k] smut, tw: infidelity

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Bound demon!Bucky x female!reader, smut, monster fucking

Tactics [650] TFATWS era Bucky, character study

Crimson Mornings [500] Bucky Barnes x female!Reader x Ari Levinson, smut

taking care of Bucky after a mission [400] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Christmas Eve Eve[1.1k] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Coffee Shop Meet-Cute Request [1.1k] post-TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader, fluff

Other Sebastian Stan Characters...

Nick Fowler, God the Bounty Hunter

[girlscomehome]

GIRLSCOMEHOME MASTERLIST

 ── ✵ GUIDE

nsfw marked with ✦ sfw marked with ♡ navigation

── ✵ MOODBOARDS

ABBY ANDERSON a.a. moodboard - everywhere, everything ♡

── ✵ HEADCANONS

ABBY ANDERSON gf!abby ♡ gf!abby 2 ♡ gf!abby 3 ✦ famous!abby x popstar!reader ♡ + ✦ wife!abby ♡

── ✵ IMAGINES/BLURBS

ABBY ANDERSON sick 'n twisted ✦ sugar ✦ after the first kiss ♡

── ✵ X READER

ABBY ANDERSON the babysitter ✦ the babysitter: revised ✦ nasty dog ✦

pink divider by @vesearartistry

[myrtles-and-blood]

✶ 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑟 ✶

Make my death the birth of a star

──── ( 𖤓 ) ────

──── ( 𖤓 ) ────

I decided to write a poem in my language because it's how I can truly talk to Lucifer. But in the end I decided not to post it and keep it to myself. It was very personal and certainly something that I want to keep for the future. Every time I write something inspired by him I get the best piece of writing I've ever done.

But you guys get to have the mood board ;). It's inspired by stars and the way he can make me feel like there's light in everything and everyone, including me. I hope he can make you feel the same.

Thank you, Lucifer, for always being my everlasting inspiration. Te quiero eternamente hasta que la luz de mis ojos se apague.

──── ( 𖤓 ) ────

dividers by @/vesearartistry ✶ Images from Pinteres

[xxladyballadxx]

Love Hurts

Hwoarang x (Fem) Reader

-ANGST-

Summary : Relationship was the least thing in his mind since he’s not fond of it. Yet, whenever he’s around you, his heart beats into flames. However, Hwoarang didn’t know that somebody had already captured your heart…

~ dividers by : @vesearartistry ~

Funny that falling in love could always go wrong if you kept your feelings all bottled up, telling that person too late and losing your chance. Hwoarang had that one special friend who would always go to the tournaments to watch him wrestle down his opponents. A girl who laughs innocently when Hwoarang shoots her a wink. 

You.

You were the ‘special’ lady that keeps him on his toes, always cheering him on. Right after the tournament, you go to his favourite Korean junk food place with him where they make those delicious spicy rice cakes. How your stomach rumbles with the smell of that tasty treat. 

Everytime you munch down on those rice cakes, Hwoarang steals glances at you. Somehow, he couldn’t help how beautiful you look. The way you smile radiantly while chewing on those spicy rice cakes has set his heart into a burst of flames, a warm spiral of feelings that he had never felt before. That was when he realised that he truly cares about you more than anything and anyone. 

He tried to deny it, it was no use. Hwoarang was falling all over you.

Hwoarang urged himself to tell her how he feels starting tomorrow. But things didn’t go as well as unexpected. He found out something that he never knew…

How this happened ; Hwoarang drove over to your house by his motorbike, hoping that he would still have his opportunity to tell you how he felt but he lost his chance when he saw through the window that you were with someone else instead of him. He didn’t know that you already have a lover. Hwoarang never knew until now. 

Watching in silence, he saw you how happy you were with him. The man he never personally met before in his life. Hwoarang growled in annoyance, his strong hands gripping the handlebars as he couldn’t bear to look anymore. 

He started the engine and drove down the road, his heart silently breaking at the thought of you being with another man who has captured your heart. 

Days passed right after the day Hwoarang spotted you with someone else. He continued to train for the next tournament. His thoughts of you distract him. Your laugh, your smile, your scent consuming him. He mentally tried so hard to put those thoughts away but how could he? 

When you’re all he thinks about? 

Hwoarang grunted in anger, he aggressively kicked the punching bag so hard it flew across the room…

He sighed in defeat, lost all hope and chances to tell you how he felt…

a/n : I am so sorry for this, I've been kinda on edge so I felt like writing depressing for Hwoarang :'')

[sonics-atelier]

ྀི:˚⋆୧˚𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 ୧⋆｡⋆ ♡

Main Masterlist

Lucissa Communtiy On Tumblr : Send ask to join!

𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 :

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬’ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞) - ( 5 / 5 ) , Fluff & Crack. WC : 6.5 K

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 - Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, ( 1 / 11 ).

𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 :

𝐀 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 - Fluff, WC: 1.3 K

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 - Fluff, WC: 1.2 K

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐲 - Fluff, WC: 1.8 K.

𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 - Fluff, WC: 1K.

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 :

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚'𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 :

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 - WC : 378. Implied smut

𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬… 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 - WC : 818, Lucius Being A Simp for His Wife.

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - Fluff, WC: 642

𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Fluff, WC: 642

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐇𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 - Angst, WC: 241

𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦𝐬 :

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 :

- All works are licensed under @sonics-atelier 2025 , do not repost or reuse in any way , shape or form.

dividers by @vesearartistry <3

[ohmybueckers]

about: 22. wlw. big fan of women’s basketball, writing, movies, and megan thee stallion (one chance megan please). unhealthily fueled by diet coke.

i write for mainly paige bueckers, the rest of the uconn wbb roster and kate martin, but maybe more if inspiration strikes or i get a good request

one shots and short series masterlist never strangers masterlist

divider creds: @vesearartistry

[sweetssammy]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀──────୨ৎ──────

hii, welcome to my blog .ᐟ :3

⠀⠀⠀⠀ my name is sam or sammy, i'm eighteen, and a femme lesbian.

“ don't forget to kiss me .ᐟ “

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀i love ftwd , hayden christensen , and horror . ‹𝟹

i ♡ feedback & i will fb .ᐟ ^_^

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀rules , drabbles , links .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀mcr sdc superfan

divider credits ; vesearartistry

[etclouie]

ᯓ★ thank you so so much for 1000 followers, i heavily debated celebrating cause of my 600 event but decided against it. thank you to every single person who's interacted with my blog in any capacity, i appreciate you all millions (SUBMISSIONS ARE NOW CLOSED!!!)

ᯓ★ like my other event, all rules below but my original rules still stand !!

ᯓ★ 1k sleepover masterlist | main masterlist

"shh i have a secret" dialogue prompts // "yeah, just like that..." smut dialogue prompts // fluffy prompts — or maybe pair a prompt with something from my au list?

- my sleepover event will be running from feburary 21st to february 24th, everything requested in this time will be written and anything requested after the deadline won't be written

- all works produced from my sleepover can be found under the tag #₊˚꒰🥞꒱‧ louie’s 1k sleepover

- like my other event, you can request as many things as you want and you don't need to wait for the first to be written to request another

- not all characters i write for are included in this event, please respect this even if it excludes your faves

- neon pink hearts divider by @strangergraphics // mdni divider and matching line divider by @vesearartistry — last two used in works produced from this event

who can you request?

twd; rick, daryl, negan and shane

cod; price, simon, soap and gaz

criminal minds; hotch, derek, spencer and luke

sons of anarchy; jax, chibs, juice, tig, happy and opie

marauders; james, remus, sirius, poly!marauders and poly!wolfstar

slytherin boys; draco, blaise, mattheo, theo and enzo

askbox link can be found here !

[random-writerings]

♡ Valentine's Ship Edits ♡

✿ Kris Fletcher x Deke Shaw

✿ Connie Winter x Bucky Barnes

✿ Heather Mitchell x Wanda Maximoff

✿ Zoya Petrova x Daisy Johnson

✿ Jayla Clark x Charles Xavier x Erik Lensherr

✿ Ellie Taylor x Leonard McCoy

✿ Artemis Black x Emmeline Vance

Divider by @vesearartistry

[buckets-and-trees]

Chris Evans Characters

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely og wife @vesearartistry

feat. Andy Barber, Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Andy Barber

I’M YOUR MAN soft!dark mafia AU dubious consent, forced marriage, explicit smut

↠ I'm Your Man [3k] ↠ Morning Radiance [750] ↠ Prepare for Takeoff [1.5k] ↠ Don't Look Too Far [6.4k] ↠ Burned Off the Haze [4.5k] ↠ Cracking Locks [5k] ↠ Dangerous Desires [6.3k] ↠ ask: a moment on your honeymoon [350] ↠ Make Her Glow [1k]

EXTRAS: ↠ will Andy let the reader work? ↠ what if Andy were forced into marriage with the reader?

Legal Temptations [6.4k] takes place a year or two after Defending Jacob

Ari Levinson

OBSIDIAN STAIN & SIN Ari x reader x Curtis Everett tattoo artist modern AU soft!dark, initial mildly dubious consent, explicit smut, many kinks

+ Obsidian Stain and Sin [8.1k] + Taking You Home [6.2k] + Worship in the Bedroom [3.2k] + Get Closer to Me [5.8k] + Sleeplessly Embracing You [2.4k] CURTIS POV / NO ARI + Sensible Sorting [1.5k]

Slope - Concept Pitch [2.5k] modern AU - some college, then mid-30s second chance half imagine, half storytelling

Lakehouse Ari ask/thot [160] Quite the Morning [1.6k] mfm with Nick Fowler modern AU - brother's best friend, first part of The Lake House soft dark, smut

Waiting On One Look [300] apocalyptic omegaverse AU soft dark world, but not a soft dark Ari

Crimson Mornings [500] Ari x reader x Bucky Barnes explicit smut

Curtis Everett

OBSIDIAN STAIN & SIN Curtis x reader x Ari Levinson tattoo artist modern AU soft!dark, initial mildly dubious consent, explicit smut, many kinks

+ Obsidian Stain and Sin [8.1k] + Taking You Home [6.2k] + Worship in the Bedroom [3.2k] + Get Closer to Me [5.8k] + Sleeplessly Embracing You [2.4k] + Sensible Sorting [1.5k]

an ask about a water creature C!Evans character [1.2k] + Never Going Back Again [3.7k] Bolotnik!Curtis x reader undefined time period AU explicit smut, first piece: non/dubious consent, second piece: full consent, terato/monster fucking

THE LAKE HOUSE a collection of encounters in a modern AU setting soft!dark, explicit smut, no strings attached, brother's best friend(s), reverse harem

↠ Curtis shows up [1.4k]

Lloyd Hansen

HUFFILY EVER AFTER: A CINDERELLOYD STORY - COMPLETE modern AU, Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities + enemies/rivals to lovers, eventual smut

↠ chapter 1: The Masquerade [5k] ↠ chapter 2: Conference Day One [6.4k] ↠ chapter 3: The Panel [4k] ↠ chapter 4: The Awards Gala [6.5k] ↠ chapter 5: Fallout and the Final Morning of the Conference [6.6k] ↠ chapter 6: An Afternoon Adrift [6.5k] ↠ chapter 7: Conversations on the Final Night [6.9k] ↠ chapter 8: Departure Day [6.7k]

WELCOME HOME, PUMPKIN  set of three stories utilizing the same opening and sharing lines of dialogue and narrative but with soft, soft dark, and dark results

↠ soft: Sugar Pumpkin ask: before you got together | fic: Room to Grow | ask: holiday Lloyd - Christmas while you're pregnant ↠ soft!dark: Spiced Pumpkin ↠ dark: Smashed Pumpkin (non-con) Smashed to Pieces (non-con)

Unholy Errand [4k] Lloyd x reader, God the Bounty Hunter x reader, Ransom Drysdale dark, non-consent, dubious consent, explicit smut

Lloyd punishment ask [500] explicit smut, bondage, dom vibes

Lloyd hearteyes ask [330] light smut

Ransom Drysdale

Between the Lines [4.4k] post-Knives Out, fake engagement, slow burn, forced proximity, "enemies" to lovers, off-page smut

Steve Rogers Collecton

Main Masterlist