#i have her for homeroom also

[suddenlymicah]

happy ides of march! time to kill ceasar

[neodiekido]

i really like talent development plan but i do have to wonder how some of these bonds formed in a world without a killing game. like how did komaru and toko (and syo as well) manage to become so close without the shared experience of getting beat up by a bunch of fifth graders.

[ayakashibackstreet]

For real, fuck my high school. I should sue them for all the bullshit I had to put up with. They worked me dry, criticised me at every step, made me feel unwelcome because I was AFAB......... man, fuck all that shit

[theriverdalereviewer]

just remembered how in the sixth grade there was a fucking riot in the cafeteria that ended in the entire grade getting silent lunch for like 3 months

[piness011]

So I go back to school in two days,, it starts at 7.00 am, I got the timetable for my class and on MONDAY the first subjects is MATHS for an hour and a half

[xothatnerdykid]

what's love got to do with it?

The students and teachers alike at UA High can't help but notice the strange behavior of the typically stern and stoic teacher of Class 1-A. They come up with all sorts of theories but soon discover the even more surprising truth: Aizawa-sensei is simply falling in love. Fluffy Aizawa x fem!reader drabble. SFW. 2,828 words.

The way everyone looks at him when he walks in, you’d think he’d grown a second head or something.

Aizawa glances up from his phone after reading a sweet little text from you, greeting him good morning and wishing him a good day at work, only to find every student's wide-eyed, unblinking attention focused solely on him.

One second, they were all happily chattering, and then, the next…

"Hmm? What?" He asks his class offhandedly, throwing his things on the table and taking his usual seat.

But instead of answering him, the whole room erupts into a whispered frenzy.

"Did you see that? Did he just...?"

"No way! Must have been a trick of the light or something."

"What the heck? I feel so unnerved. Llike we just spotted a UFO or something.”

“You guys saw it too, right? Are we all just collectively hallucinating?”

"Oi!" He calls their attention. "Would anyone care to tell me what it is exactly that's gotten all of you so worked up this morning?"

Stunned silence falls over Class 1-A again, and Aizawa can’t help but cross his arms and sigh. “Iida? Yaoyorozu? What’s going on?”

He doesn’t miss the way the class president and vice-president exchange a hesitant look before Iida answers him. 

“Apologies, sensei!” He hastily gets up to bow. “I will personally make sure everyone quiets down.” He zooms around the room and gestures frantically at his noisy classmates to settle down.

Bemused by their commotion, Aizawa observes them all carefully. What could’ve caused such a stir? He wonders. And why are they all so reluctant to tell him? Did he have a piece of spinach in his teeth or something? A quick glance downwards tells him he didn’t forget to wear pants or shoes or anything, so what was it?

“If I may, sensei?” Yaoyorozu raises her hand and he nods at her. “I think everyone was just a little distracted by your change in demeanor today."

He furrows his eyebrows at the young girl. "What change?"

"Well, we’ve never seen you smile before. Or at least, not like that.”

He blinks in surprise. He’d been smiling when he walked into class this morning? "What about it?"

"Well, sir," Iida adds, taking his seat once everyone's finally settled down. "It's quite an uncommon sight. Naturally, they were taken aback."

“You usually only smile when you’re giving us a tough time in exams or training exercises, sensei.”

The corners of Aizawa’s mouth twitch upwards at that, which he quickly covers up with a small cough. “Well, enough of that. Let’s get on with today’s lesson, shall we?”

Everyone straightens up to listen as their homeroom teacher goes over a few important announcements. And although he isn’t smiling anymore, Class 1-A doesn't miss the way his usually sharp gaze has grown soft and almost...fond as he speaks to them.

As soon as the homeroom bell rings, Aizawa dismisses them with an absent-minded wave of his hand and takes out his phone to text you: Do I really never smile?

You smile when you’re rounding up bad guys sometimes. You reply almost right away. Or when you see a cat.

He chuckles. Apparently I also do it when I’m torturing my students. Then…Or when I’m texting you.

You send back a little cat emoji, and the grin you get after reading that doesn't leave your face for the rest of the day.

_________________________________________

“Shouta! Helloooo? I said Earth to Shouta?” Kayama waves her hand in Aizawa’s face.

It seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in. “Sorry, what?” He blinks up at her.

She gives Yamada a look. “What’s with him today?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, then turns to his friend. “Hey buddy, didn’t get any sleep again last night or something?”

You could say that, Aizawa thinks to himself with a smirk, then hastily scolds his features into their usually stoic expression. “No. Why?”

Kayama raises an eyebrow at him. “You've just been acting a little...off. Distracted, maybe?”

"Nothing to worry about," Aizawa reassures them, dismissing their concerns with a wave of his hand. He goes back to observing his students closely in the hopes of them moving past the subject, but Kayama and Yamada aren’t convinced. Anyone looking at him could tell something was different today.

“Sensei?” Kirishima hesitantly calls out to him. “I’m having a little trouble with my balance. Could you show me that move again?”

Aizawa nods, and everyone’s jaw just about drops to the floor when he demonstrates the proper stance with uncharacteristic patience. 

"Remember to be mindful of where you shift your weight," He guides Kirishima through the motions with a supportive tone, a stark departure from his normally gruff and no-nonsense approach. "And keep your focus. You'll get it."

Kirishima does as he’s told and looks to his teacher for feedback.

"No, adjust your stance a bit like this. Yes, that's it. Great improvement," Aizawa says, offering a rare compliment. 

Flabbergasted, the red-haired boy manages a stuttering, "Th-Thank you, sensei," before Aizawa moves on to help the next student. 

Observing everything from afar, Kayama leans over to Yamada and whispers, “He didn’t get a concussion on that last mission, did he? I've never seen him like this."

“Check what was in his coffee a while ago. And if he still has more — oof, it was just a joke!”

_________________________________________

“Okay, enough is enough!” Mina bursts into the room, dramatically crying. “I have to know!”

“Know what?” Kirishima asks as the others start to gather around her.

“What’s going on with Aizawa sensei? I saw him on the way here — he’s wearing a buttoned up shirt.”

There’s a collective gasp.

“Are you sure?” Momo asks.

Mina nods frantically. “And it was freshly pressed, too!”

Another round of gasps.

“And his hair was tied up!” The pink girl all but weeps, throwing herself onto the nearest desk.

“What do you think is going on with him?” Deku rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“He’s been acting so weird lately!” Uraraka whines.

As if on cue, Aizawa walks in. “Good morning, class,” he greets them without his usual gruffness.

Everyone hurries back to their seats, but Mina leans over to grab Kaminari’s sleeve, screaming under her breath, “He said good morning!”

“Look at his eyes!” He points frantically. “No puffy, dark circles or redness at all! He actually looks well-rested for once!”

“That’s where I draw the line!” Kirishima almost slams his fist on his desk. “We have to get to the bottom of this.”

Sero joins them, “Do you think Mic sensei and Midnight sensei know anything?”

Kaminari shrugs, “It’s worth asking.”

“Maybe Aizawa sensei has a secret twin and he’s pulling a prank on us?” Deku contemplates.

Uraraka shakes her head, “Sensei? Pulling a prank? I doubt it. What if there’s a new teacher at UA with a shape-shifting quirk?”

“Or Shinsou brainwashed him into being in a good mood?” Jirou chimes in.

As they huddle and murmur, Todoroki and Tokoyami shoot them curious glances, and Iida has to shush them discreetly. 

They snap back to attention every time Aizawa faces them, pretending to listen to the lesson. But as soon as their sensei turns away again, the room buzzes with whispered speculation. 

And though he acts none the wiser, seemingly engrossed in the topic they're supposed to be discussing, Aizawa can't help his amusement listening to their outlandish theories. A small, smug part of him relishes stoking the fires of their confusion. 

He knew he'd have some explaining to do, but for now, he’s more than happy to just let  them wonder.

_________________________________________

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up!” is the first thing Mic says when he spots him. The colorful cocktail in his hand is practically empty, but he happily sips the fun loopy straw for whatever dredges he can anyway.

“Are you going to make me regret it?” Aizawa grumbles, taking his seat next to his friends.

But Mic and Midnight just snicker, unfazed. They’ve had years to get used to his grumpiness after all (and a few drinks to put them in a better mood). 

"We have to admit, Aizawa," Midnight smirks up at him. "We had an ulterior motive for asking you to come hang out tonight."

"Don't you always?" He deadpans, lazily chewing at the gyoza they ordered without him. Although he doesn’t show it, he’s pleased to see there’s already a whiskey neat waiting on the table for him. 

Midnight rolls her eyes as she slides it over to him, "Yeah, but aside from just getting you to lighten up as usual."

"And getting you to sing karaoke with us, which I still can't believe—"

"You promised me we'd never talk about it again,” Aizawa groans as he rubs his hand over his face. “And that you'd never let me get that drunk again.”

"Awww, come on, buddy," Yamada slings his arm around him. "What's the point of having a good story you can't tell?"

"Fine, but I'll deny it, so no one will believe you anyway."

"I don’t know,” Midnight sing-songs, swirling her margarita in its glass. “With the way you’ve been acting lately, they just might.”

He frowns at her. “Meaning?”

Mic grins, leaning forward with an impish glint in his eye, "Meaning we heard you've been keeping secrets from us, Aizawa."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? Then would you care to tell us why you’ve been smiling so much lately?”

“Or who you’ve been trying to look nice for?”

Realizing they weren’t going to let this go easily, Aizawa sighs and takes a deep sip of his whiskey, the familiar warmth sliding down his throat. He's not one to discuss his personal life openly, even with his close friends, but there's something about their teasing that doesn't quite irk him tonight.

Aizawa tilts his head slightly, thoughtfully. "I'm just...happy, I suppose."

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Come on, buddy, you can tell us!” Mic nudges him playfully. 

“We want to know what’s got our favorite grump acting like a—" Midnight’s hands quickly fly up to cover her gasp. 

“Like a what?” Mic gives her a puzzled look, but Aizawa’s shoulders tense up at the glint in her eyes. That look usually meant very bad things for him. 

“Like a lovesick puppy!” She grabs Mic’s arm, excitedly slapping it before shaking Aizawa’s shoulders and squealing into his ear. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re in love!”

Aizawa chokes on his drink, and Mic pats him on the back to ease his coughing fit.

"Real smooth, Kayama,” he teases her.

"Sorry, but I couldn't resist," Midnight pouts, the twinkle of amusement still shining bright in her eyes.

Aizawa wipes his mouth and sets his glass down with a sigh. “Well, if you must know…There is…someone I’ve been spending time with.”

"Someone!" His friends chorus, delighted.

Mic nudges him gently. “Well? Don’t leave us in suspense!”

"Who is it? Do we know them?" Midnight leans forward, giggling.

Aizawa looks down at his glass for a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. Although he feels a little overwhelmed by their excitement and their scrutiny, he also secretly relishes the joy of sharing this part of his life with his closest friends. 

It feels good, he thinks, to be around them and to know that they care so much about him. And though he’s never been one to discuss his personal affairs, he trusts these two enough to share the parts of himself he usually kept guarded. 

Seeing the expectant looks on their faces, eagerly awaiting his answer, Aizawa's ears turn the faintest shade of red. 

“Do you want to meet her?” 

_________________________________________

"Had a fun night?" You greet your boyfriend with a hug when he shows up at your door well past a reasonable hour.

You don't miss the small smile on his face when he takes off his shoes. "Actually, I did. But Yamada and Kayama were pretty insistent on meeting you." 

"You told them about me?" you respond, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. 

He nods, not quite meeting your gaze. "I think they'd like you."

"Really?" You plop down on the couch with him and stretch your legs atop his lap. 

"Yeah," He gently grazes your thigh. "They were wondering why I've been acting so differently lately."

"Like what?"

"Apparently I'm smiling more and acting nicer and" — He air quotes — “Stopped looking homeless."

You laugh. "And what did you say?"

He shrugs, “That I guess my girlfriend just makes me really happy.”

“Awww,” you pat his cheek playfully. “What’s next? You gonna tell me you’re in love with me or something?”

"Yes? I thought it was obvious?"

"What?" Your heart skips a beat at his nonchalant admission.

“Hmm?” He looks over, and seeing the evident surprise on your face makes Aizawa chuckle. "I thought I'd been making it pretty clear, but I suppose I should say it outright. Yes, I'm in love with you."

Your heart flutters at his words, a warmth spreading through you. "Well, for someone who's known for being so straightforward, you sure took your time saying that."

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a soft, lingering kiss on your temple. “I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear it, baby.”

You lean in closer, your lips almost touching his. “Alright,” you look up at him with a sleepy smile and half-lidded eyes. “I’m waiting.”

"I love you," he whispers, his voice low and tender. He places a gentle kiss on your nose. “I love you,” and then another on your cheeks…“I love you.”

He gently brushes his lips against yours, cupping your jaw so you can’t help but gaze deeply into his dark, smoky eyes before he finally closes the distance between you.

“Mhhm.” You smile, contentment washing over you like a gentle wave. "I love you, too, baby."

[thatfandomslut]

Princess

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, physical bullying that results in injury, fluffy ending

Frankly this isn't my favorite fic I've written but I have tried my very best.

Request:

HEYYY omggg can i request ANYTHING with regina pls i dont care what it is:3 thank you!!

Synopsis:

After someone hurts the reader, Regina will make sure everyone knows not to hurt her princess.

Mean Girls (2024) requests are open.

Regina George was the Queen Bee at North Shore High. She was confident, brilliant, and ambitious. Regina could bring the entire school to their knees if she wanted. Only one person rivaled Regina George in popularity, and that was the only person Regina had a soft spot for. (Y/n) (L/n) was proclaimed Regina's princess by none other than Regina herself. On her own, (Y/n) didn't feel special, but Regina ensured she knew she was. While Regina lived for the popularity, (Y/n) could care less, but it was nice not to get bullied by the jock branch of the school's social structure.

While Gretchen Wieners was Regina's right-hand woman, as she deemed herself to be, (Y/n) could always be found on Regina's side. Regina was someone who was motivated by words of affirmation and physical touch. So, while she was touching (Y/n) in some way, whether their knees were touching or her hand was placed delicately on (Y/n)'s thigh, she reveled in the compliments she received from her girlfriend. Nothing boosted Regina's ego more than the love of her life, her princess, flirting with her shamelessly at the lunch table, not caring if Gretchen, Cady, or Karen heard.

However, today (Y/n) wasn't at the lunch table, in her usual spot. She tended to have everything ready for Regina by the time she reached the cafeteria. This ensured a few minutes alone as the other Plastics were forced to wait in line while (Y/n) and Regina talked about whatever they wanted without the listening ears of the other girls. Regina's brows furrowed as she looked around and didn't see the girl still. "Maybe she's still in class," Gretchen offered, earning a glare from Regina who sent a message to (Y/n), wondering where she was. Perhaps Gretchen was right though. As time passed, Regina grew impatient and agitated over (Y/n)'s absence.

After all, Regina knew that (Y/n) was present that day. They had walked to their homeroom class and their shared first period together. Tapping her fingers on the table, she was becoming more restless. "I'm going to go find her," Regina stated, standing up to leave. The girls went to follow her, but Regina stopped them. She wanted to go alone, and she didn't need Gretchen's constant pestering during their search. Quite frankly, she was also slightly annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) hadn't answered her text message.

As she passed one of the stairwells, Regina heard sniffling causing her to take a step back to see if it was who she thought it was. "Princess," her voice echoed the area, and (Y/n) looked up. Regina's previous annoyance was now abandoned as she saw the puffy lip and bruising eye adorning her girlfriend's face. Making her way over, Regina took (Y/n)'s chin into her feeling delicately as she wiped away some of the driving blood under her busted lip. "Who did this?" Her voice sounded leveled and cold. (Y/n) wiped a tear from her good eye, nervous to touch her other one since it was still stinging. Noticing this, Regina brushed a gentle finger to help rid the girl of her tears.

(Y/n) was led to the bathroom as Regina cleaned her face up. Only (Y/n) was allowed to be exposed to how gentle she could be. "You still haven't answered me, princess," Regina whispered, examining her face, and searching to make sure there was nothing she missed. "You felt like they had the right to hurt you? I need to know so I can burn them to the ground." For someone who was threatening (Y/n)'s bully, she only sounded calm and caring towards the girl in front of her. (Y/n) knew deep down that she also wasn't going to keep it from Regina. She just didn't want to be a snitch or make things worse. But maybe things were already worse at this point. After all, Regina had the sweetest tone in her voice but the most dangerous fire (Y/n) had ever seen in her eyes.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly wincing slightly when she licked her lip. She had forgotten how swollen and sore it was. "Marianne Hayes," she told Regina quietly, feeling Regina's fingers intertwine with (Y/n)'s. Regina's brow rose, wanting to hear everything that had happened. "She said I was sinning, being with a girl as she walked by me in the hall. So, I told her to say it to my face. That's when she turned and punched me. She got another punch in before her friend pulled her off. She reminded them that I was your girlfriend. Marianne made sure to point out that I was defenseless without you before she left, too. Which I'm not! The punch just caught me off guard and… I don't know. She always says things like that to me." (Y/n) expressed, sighing softly as the bell rang. They were supposed to be going to class, but neither of them moved.

(Y/n)'s words were also a revelation to Regina. Nodding slowly, she listened intently. "What do you mean she always says things like that to you? Why didn't you tell me she was talking shit to you?" Regina questioned. The quirk in her brow never left her face as she stared at her girlfriend with care and worry.

"I guess I never felt like it was important to bring up." (Y/n) muttered, looking away. A clear indication she was lying. There was more, and Regina squeezed her hands comfortingly. (Y/n) could be honest with her. She'd always listen to anything and everything that she had to say. "Okay, I suppose I felt like… If I didn't handle this, she'd be right, That I was just your little dog who couldn't defend myself. I wanted to prove that, yes, I'm your girlfriend, and yes, I'm proud, but… I can also defend myself. When I finally had the opportunity, she punched me."

Regina kissed her forehead in understanding. "You are not my dog. You are so much more than whatever the fuck Marianne, of all people, thinks of you. I will make sure she burns to the ground. You are my girlfriend, princess, and I know that you think you need to do things on your own, but I'm here for you." Regina cupped (Y/n)'s cheek gently. For anyone else in the school, seeing Regina this caring and soft was strange. But for (Y/n), this was her girlfriend. She was always this soft with her. "Now, come on. We're going to my house and we are going to watch a dumb romcom." (Y/n) smiled at this, allowing Regina to lead her out of the school, thankful to spend the rest of the day cuddled up to the blonde with She's All That playing on her wide-screen TV.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

So, that deja vu fic got me thinking.. and what if katsuki has a childhood friend (obvi friends w deku too) where he is always trying to impress her and class 1-a notices or ( if you’d like them older ) the agency notices and starts betting on when he’ll confess to her. turns out, she actually confesses first and everyone is happy (and slightly disappointed… nobody got their money) 😋😋

Also, when i saw the notification “@cashmoneyyysstuff started following you” i have never hit a follow back button so fast 😭🫶

Remember you’re amazing, take care of yourself, drink water, stay safe, and know that you are loved ❤️

bet on it, bet on it !!

there's definitely something going on between you two, and your classmates are determined to figure out when it'll finally happen

a/n: WAAAA @itzjustj-1000 this is soo cute ! especially since katsuki being a loser n tryin to impress us instead of just confessing is honestly adorable. ALSO ALSO ur LITERALLY THE SWEETEST !! ur the loveliest it's a given i had to follow u !! i tried to honour ur request as best i could, i hope you like it ! also say it w me yall: WEEWOOO WEEWOOO CHILDHOODFRIENDS TO LOVERS ALEEEEEERRTTT(yall r forcing my hand atp (not that im complaining tho))

fem reader, katsuki is a whipped little loser, katsuki likes getting praised by reader but acts like he doesn't challenge (fails miserably), kaminari n sero are little shits, m*neta (he doesn't say anything creepy don't worry <3) everyone is in their 2nd year in this one. lemme know if i missed something else !

for as long as izuku midoriya could remember, you and kacchan have always been a packaged deal.

deku remembers all the way back in primary school, how kacchan would bend over backwards to impress you, spending his days trying to win your praise like he was collecting it. whether it be showing off how good his reading skills were, or showing off his newly acquired quirk to you at any given chance. (away from the eyes of the teachers, of course)

or even with silly things. like the time he showed you how long he could hold his breath underwater. it didn't matter, as long as he could show it off to you, he would.

deku remembers how pride would fill his childhood friends face, cheeks practically glowing and a smile basically reaching his ears. a simple "woooah, you're so cool kacchan !" had the boastful blonde giddy for the entire day, chest puffed out as he walked ahead of everyone, with you right next to him, of course. (you were the only one worthy enough to stand by his side after all)

and though he spent his time trying to win your praise, he also needed your attention constantly. katsuki constantly demanded your attention. he's the only one who's allowed to sit next to you in class, you're always the one he picks first when it's time to pick teams to play dodgeball. he's your partner for every project and you're the one who walks beside him when you and your friends go venture out in the woods to go out on your adventures. and even though they would usually take place in the park, katsuki always claimed he'd be the one to protect you if anything were to happen.

as kids, deku was probably the only one who noticed how hard katsuki tried to impress you.

and he's probably the only one to notice how he still does it now.

"sooo...kacchan totally has a thing for yn, agreed ?"

"mhm. definitely."

"yup."

"'m suprised you just noticed that now, kaminari...actually i'm not really suprised." jirou drawled, twirling one of her earphone jacks around her finger.

okay, so apparently he isn't the only one who noticed.

kaminari pouts "i noticed ! i noticed, like, ages ago !" he huffs into his folded elbows on the desk " i just wanted to see if you guys did !"

"you'd be stupid to miss it." sero cuts in smoothly. their grouchy homeroom teacher somehow ended up absent, leading to an impromptu free period. which in turn caused for loads of gossip he had somehow gotten roped into. kirishima, kaminari and sero were talking about you and katsuki, happily chatting off about something they couldn't hear from where they were sitting.

"maaaannn, bakugou's way too lucky, scoring such a pretty girl. what's he got that i don't ?!" kaminari whines. kirishima shushes him lightly, afraid to rouse the attention of a certain blonde they just so happened to be talking about

"now that i think about it.." sero wondered, leaning onto kirishima's shoulder "midoriya, you guys are childhood friends, right ? have they always been..." he cuts himself off, pointing over at you both with his chin for midoriya to look back. ".. like that ?"

you're chatting about something that's apparently funny or exciting, with katsuki listening along attentively, his head resting in his palm like he's admiring you. his full focus entirely on you, as it usually was.

you're using your hands a lot while you're talking and deku recognizes it as the thing you do when you've gotten to the juicy part of the conversation, deku almost wishes he could listen in, then remembers it's not good to be nosy and shakes the thought away. every once in a while katsuki interjects with a subtle smirk on his face and his remarks have you either giggling or playfully pouting at him unable to hide your smile. the playfulness in his heavy lidded red eyes remains at any reaction you give him, though. kacchan's worked on his poker face over the years but it seems he can't control himself when it comes to you.

izuku realizes he's been openly staring for too long and quickly turns back to look at sero who raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

izuku chuckles to himself "yeah, pretty much." he hums, playing around with the ends of his tie as he speaks.

"oooouu~" kaminari sings, suddenly lifting his head up from where it was hidden into his shoulder with a sudden burst of energy, startling kirishima. "juicy details about kacchan, i'm in !"

"i don't know if it's exactly 'juicy'" izuku sweatdropped, chuckling awkwardly. "but kacchan and yn have always been really close. when we were younger, kacchan would always be seeking out yn's attention. he'd be really possesive..or protective over her, i guess ?—it was all pretty harmless though." he recounted, smiling softly at his childhood memories nostalgically pouring into his mind.

both kirishima and sero let out quiet hums when he finishes while denki simply pouts "s'not as juicy as i thought it would be" he huffs petulantly, receiving a knock on his head from jirou who hisses a "he told you that, idiot"

kirishima places his head into the palm of his hands and sighs dreamingly "man, that's so cute. bakugou's been a major softie for yn for so long.." he clenches his fist and izuku thinks he sees a little tear in his eye "so manly !" he exclaims through his sharp teeth.

"yeah, i don't know if 'manly' is the word i'd use to describe someone who's been whipped for so long and still doesn't have the balls to confess" sero ribbed, snickering to himself with denki joining in shortly after.

"hey, don't be assholes !" jirou shot "i think it's kinda cute y'know ? not really..manly..but—cute." she said.

"how much you wanna bet he's not gonna confess until graduation?" kaminari challenged.

"wouldn't put it past 'im." a voice suddenly chimes in. the five of them all turn their heads left, right then down at the voice that came from none other than mineta, who had somehow wormed his way into the conversation.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into our conversation, freak" jirou sneers, glaring down at mineta who had already dragged his chair over, including himself into the group.

mineta decides to ignore jirou as he places his arms onto the desk seriously like he's imitating some type of mafia don. " bakugou's never gonna confess any time soon, he's too much of a pussy" he waves off nonchalantly "i bet he won't even have done it by the time we've finished school ! "

" and i bet you wouldn't say that to his face !" kaminari guffaws and the purple haired boy sputters. izuku can't hold back his grin as he watches them bicker.

" kacchan's always been pretty..sure of himself" he settles "i don't think it'd take him that long to confess" he guessed, pressing his thumb onto his chin "though maybe the fact that he's so sure of himself could hold him back.."

ah, there he goes again.. the rest of them thought as they watch midoriya babble on and on into theory land.

denki suddenly slams his fists on the desks, startling everyone. he sucks in a breath "alright ! i bet a thousand yen and the entirety of my lunch box that bakugou won't confess by the end of this year !" he exclaims, not too loud but loud enough so everyone in the group could hear him.

"oooouu~ what're we betting on ?" mina chimes in, suddenly appearing behing jirou and in turn startling her. she flashes her a little glare causing the pink haired girl to offer a weak apology and a hug.

"kaminari just bet a thousand yen and his lunch that bakugou won't confess to yn by the end of this year" sero smirked, clearly enjoying the drama

" ou, that sounds fun ! lemme join in too !" the pink skinned girl pleaded giving her best puppy eye and pout combo.

"sure ! just don't come cryin' to me when you lose" kaminari agrees, playfully jabbing at his friend.

"this is so stupid. i'm not betting money on this.."jirou scoffs rubbing at her temple. "c'moooonnn, don't be chicken, jirou ! " denki whines

"mhmm, c'moonn jirou give into peer pressure !" mina joins in, wrapping her arms around the purple haired girl and swaying her side to side.

jirou groans before finally conceding "..five hundred yen. that's all you're getting from me." she concludes sourly crossing her arms.

" i'm gonna go with kaminari's and say his balls won't drop 'till graduation" sero says simply, smirking almost mischieviously at the display of sudden chaos. he looks a little too pleased, izuku sweatdrops.

"i'm not betting on my bro, that's so unmanly." kirishima refused " i say just let them go at their own pace" he finishes, receiving a nasty look from his chaotic classmates.

needless to say kirishima gave in to peer pressure soon after, offering a modest 1,100 yen by this summer for his friend to confess.

"well i stand on what i said, i don't think he has the balls to say it at all. and i put that on all the money in my pockets ! " mineta proudly spoke.

"how much is that, like, one fruit roll-up ?" mina deadpanned, not missing a beat causing the group to erupt in laughter. mineta's objection's falling on deaf ears.

meanwhile, katsuki notices you've stopped talking all of a sudden. it takes him by surprise as you were so into it a minute ago. "what's up ?" he asks. his question snaps you out of your trance and you jump slightly, turning back to look at him "oh , nothing ! they just seem to be having fun " you gasp, a smile crawling up on your face as you look back at your friends having a good time.

katsuki on the other hand has a slight pout forming on his face, displeased at how his loud mouthed friends distracted you from your conversation. and from him he thinks, but that makes him feel like a snot nosed little kid again and his expression turns even more sour.

"tch. the fuck are those losers so loud for" he grumbles under his breath. you catch it though, and you giggle. his eyes brighten and his brows unfurrow the slightest bit when he hears it.

"don't be such a buzzkill katsu, s'not their fault you're no fun." you jest, chuckling to yourself when he scowls at you.

"fuck off ! m'not a buzzkill" he rolls his eyes, huffing indignantly "an' i'm plenty of fun" he finishes grumpily. you laugh a little more, covering your mouth with your hand when you catch a peak of him narrowing his eyes at you making fun of him. he simply rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. he'll let it slide, he always does with you.

"right, right. my apologies, sir dynamight" you chuckle, bowing slightly at him, he huffs out a laugh "that's sir lord explosion murder god dynamight to you" he snorts. you throw your head back and laugh and katsuki feels the same pride he used to feel when he'd found something cool to show you back when you were brats. his stomach feels fuzzy and his head feels clouded the way it used to when you'd offer him your big, bright sparkly eyes and a "you're so cool kacchan !""

god, it never failed to remind him how much of a whipped loser he was for you.

and unfortunately still is.

you scoot your chair a little closer to his and katsuki has to use all of his might not to blush at the sudden proximity, as miniscule as the distance between you both was to begin with.

"well okay then, sir lord explosion murder god dynamight" you say rapidly, laughing to yourself. katsuki let's out a breathy chuckle, it's cute. he's cute. " i'm sure it doesn't mean much, but i at least think you’re plenty fun to be around"

katsuki feels his heart skip a beat too many.

you whisper, like it's a secret. you're in your own little corner while all your classmates are chatting away yet you say this to him like it's something between you and him. batting your eyelashes up at him. god, it's like you're out to kill him and honestly katsuki thinks for a second he wouldn't mind dying by your hand.

he's such a whipped loser.

he can't think straight. you're sitting so close to him, you're lips are glossy from that lip gloss you always have on you. you smell nice, katsuki feels like a creep for smelling you like you aren't a breath away from him.

"yeah, well.." he utters lowly. he licks his lips, feeling himself grow dizzy as he watches you watch the movement intensely and swallows. his adam's apple bobs and he can feel himself blushing like an idiot. " i don't think you're all that bad either" the end of his sentence comes out a little breathy, he barely realizes he's speaking. like his body is deciding for him, he doesn't mind much.

you give him a sweet little smile and your eyes shine like stars and you look up at him like he's everything, like he's the coolest. he wants you to look at him like this all the time.

you suddenly lean in and kiss him, right next to his lips, just at the corner. it lasts for about 0.3 seconds but katsuki feel his entire body exploding from the inside like he's let off his quirk onto himself.

"i take it back actually" you start " you're super cool to be around,kacchan " you whisper bashfully. katsuki huffs out a little laugh once his heart had stabilized itself a little bit, a small smile growing on his face—

" AW MAN? WHAT THE HELL ?!"

you both turn to the sound of your electric classmate, sporting a little pout on his face. proceeding to get dog-piled on by your other classmates surrounding him, causing him to let out whines and moans of complaint.

"i-ignore him !" mina waves off nervously "just keep doin' what you were doin !— i mean, we weren't watching or anything !" she splutters.

"nice one." jirou deadpanned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "look, we don't mean to pry or anything, but who kissed who first ?"

at that, katsuki's cheeks flare up, turning a damn near violent shade of pink. he's about to yell obscenties at his classmates, about to tell them it's none of their business when-

" i did !" you giggle, a cat-like grin on your face

"you sneaky fuckin minx-" katsuki growls, shoving his index fingers into your sides and you let out a squeal mixed with a giggle. you're quickly drowned out by your classmates releasing a group groan, with sero and kaminari yelling and booing at katsuki, who in turn starts threathing them, his hands crackling and popping.

you don't exactly know what's happening, but you can't help but feel extremely joyful and happy.

"soo.." mineta starts "since i said bakugou wouldn't confess first doesn't that technically mean i-"

" IN YOUR DREAMS ! "

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Divus Crewel - Rich Fur Coat Vignette

"A full course of disciplinary action"

[Sage‘s Island – Foothill Town]

Sage’s Island Resident: Good morning, Divus-san. You're up pretty early again.

Crewel: Good morning, madam.

Crewel: Also… Good morning, Emma!

Crewel: Your cute spots look so good on you, as always. I am truly lucky to be able to meet with such a stunning beauty so early in the day.

Crewel: …Can I give you some pets, you sweet thing?

Emma: Bark, bark!

Sage’s Island Resident: Fufufu, you're always so doting on our Emma, thank you. Look, she's so happy she's showing her belly.

Crewel: No, I should be thanking you. These fleeting moments I get in the morning are my personal solace.

Crewel: I'm grateful that I am able to see and pet these beautiful little lads and lasses.

Crewel: Especially since I'm unable to see my precious ones until I return to the Queendom of Roses on the weekends.

Sage’s Island Resident: If I recall, you have two friends looking after your dogs back home during the week, right?

Crewel: That's right. They're old friends… Or rather, they've become more like hired hands.

Crewel: I would love nothing more than to bring my dogs to Sage's Island…

Crewel: But my apartment here in Foothill Town is much too small to keep them.

Crewel: Sometime in the future, it would be nice to rent a large home here in this town and live with them together every single day.

Crewel: I'd drive with them in my favorite car on the long road along the ocean… That's the dream.

Sage’s Island Resident: Well, how lovely. I'm looking forward to the day that I'll be able to meet your precious dogs, Divus-san.

Crewel: And I as well, madam. I hope you have another pleasant day today. Bye, Emma.

Crewel: Good morning, my good sir. A strong cup of tea, as per my usual.

Shopkeep: Good morning, Crewel-kun. Would you like some food with that?

Crewel: No, thank you. I don't eat breakfast, as a rule.

Shopkeep: Yes, yes, I know. I thought I'd just ask.

Shopkeep: I can't believe you come to my little establishment so early in the morning just to drink tea instead of our signature coffee blend…

Shopkeep: You're still an odd one, even after becoming a professor at Night Raven College.

Crewel: Hah. Truth be told, I don't come here for the tea.

Crewel: Every Monday morning, if I sit in this seat here, I can watch the ships sail into port. The sight of the sails in a row is beautiful…

Crewel: This tea doesn't even compare to the stuff I can brew, but this view is something I can't replicate back home.

Shopkeep: Hahah! I always knew you were a sharp-tongued devil in your student years, but it seems you've just gotten even more cruel!

Crewel: I think it's more of a shock that you haven't improved your tea brewing skills in 15 years, sir.

Shopkeep: Well, luckily, we're still thriving! Do enjoy your time here.

Crewel: Thanks. …Hm. This respite is quiet and soothing.

Crewel: I should relax while I can. …Because I'm sure today will end up being yet another busy day.

Crewel: Today, I have homeroom plus three other classes. There's also preparations that need to be done for next month's event, a staff meeting, and last week's tests that need grading… Whew.

Crewel: Well. I'll just have to hope those pups won't cause me any issues, at a minimum.

[Laboratory]

Crewel: STAY!!!

Students: EEK!

Crewel: I can't believe this… What have you done?

Crewel: Why are all the ingredients needed for today's experiment scattered all over the floor?

Crewel: Which one of you mangy mutts not only stepped on but also mixed together all those spilled ingredients?

Crewel: I am only asking a simple question, and yet all anyone can yelp is "It wasn't me," or "It was someone else's fault"...

Crewel: PUPS WHO CAN'T OWN UP TO THEIR MISTAKES ARE NO BETTER THAN A MUTT! THEY DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE CALLED DOGS!

Students: EEEEP!

Crewel: So tell me, who is the culprit? Tell me truthfully, and you'll only have to deal with a full course of disciplinary action and not a bit more.

Students: Th-That is…

Students: [everyone stares]

Grim: Hm?

Grim: …Wh-Wh-Wh-What? Don't all you be lookin' down on me!

1. I think it'd be better if you just apologize honestly… 2. You'll get a lighter punishment if you just confess now.

Grim: It wasn't me who did that! It's [Yuu], definitely [Yuu]!

Scarabia Student: Don't try to blame [Yuu]. You really don't know how to give up, huh, Grim!

Octavinelle Student: Yeah, you were the one who flipped the table in the first place! There's no way I'm gonna let you take us down with you!

Grim: Heh! Do ya even got any proof that I did it?

Crewel: I see. It definitely won't do to accuse someone of the crime without proper evidence.

Crewel: …By the way, Grim.

Grim: Hm?

Crewel: The fur on your legs have turned black, but why is that? It looks just like that of a black cat.

Grim: Huh? My legs?

Grim: …Woah, you're right! My amazing grey fur's pitch black!

Grim: WH-WHAT'S WITH THIS!? GET RID OF IT FOR MEEE!

Crewel: There's no point in wiping it. The sap from the tree we were to use today turns black upon exposure to air.

Crewel: If it were to touch on your clothes or hair, it wouldn't matter how much you scrub or wash with water, it won't come off.

Crewel: incidentally, to return the blackened part to normal, the fastest method would be to cause another reaction to render it colorless.

Crewel: Look! Everyone see here.

Crewel: When I pour this concoction of herbs onto Grim's blackened legs…

Crewel: See, it returned back to its normal color. Make sure you remember this reaction.

Students: Oooooh.

Crewel: …Now, Grim. Do you have any idea why the ingredients we were to use for today's experiments got on your legs?

Grim: M-M… MYAAAH!

Grim: It ain't my fault! The desk shouldn't've been there!

Crewel: YOU MONGREL! YOU ARE TO STAY AFTER CLASS AND COPY LINES AS PUNISHMENT. UNDERSTAND!?

Crewel: And [Yuu], you're to also stay behind, as Grim's prefect. It would be troublesome if you cannot even look after your own pet!

1. But I have plans after class…

Crewel: Oho, you have plans that take priority over my prescribed discipline? [Yuu shakes their head] …No? A good response from a good boy.

2. I'm sorry…

Crewel: If you truly are sorry, then lets see that as a tangible result. If you can make Grim learn to sit and stay properly as his prefect, then I'll give you a treat.

Crewel: These pups truly are a handful… My beloved pet dogs are much more well behaved.

Crewel: Everyone, sit!

[Crewel magics the ingredients]

Grim: All the stuff I dropped are just floating back on top of the desk. So why's he gotta get on me when he can just fix everything…?

Crewel: The ingredients have been properly prepared once again. I will now explain the procedure for this experiment, so make sure you watch carefully.

Crewel: …I expect all of you to be on your best behavior.

Grim: Urp. He's just glaring at me, now…

[Interior Hallway]

Crewel: Ah, classes are finally over. Today was another tiring day.

Crewel: None of the freshmen listen and the sophomores slack off now that they've gotten used to the classes. And the juniors are teeming with arrogance.

Crewel: If I were a student, I would absolutely have literally knocked some sense into them...

Crewel: However, because of my position, I cannot do that now. I never even thought that I would be more inconvenienced as a professor, than I was as a student.

Crewel: Tch! I knew what I was in for, but still, I hadn't expected being an instructor to be this difficult.

???: And why are you clicking your tongue like that, Crewel-sensei?

Trein: As a professor of this school, I would prefer if you were to carry yourself better, so as to be a good example towards the students.

Crewel: Ugh… And now on top of everything else, someone even fussier has shown up…

Trein: What is with that disgruntled look? Do you take some issue with me?

Crewel: Of course not, don't be absurd! I would never bite back at any commentary you have for me, Trein-sensei.

Trein: Good. We should start to head towards the staff meeting, then.

Trein: Incidentally, you seemed to look rather exhausted a moment ago. Did something happen?

Crewel: No, I wouldn't say there was anything in particular…

Crewel: …I was only thinking of how I could effectively train the students. There are more than a fair share of unruly pups.

Trein: Do you of all people have any right to say that…? Especially since you were one of the rowdiest students during your time here.

Crewel: That was simply youthful ardor. Wasn't I just a charming little thing?

Trein: Don't write it off as simple "youthful ardor." Have a little shame.

Trein: …Well, I suppose it hasn't been too long since you've become a professor, in the end. This year makes… how long?

Crewel: Six years. Have you forgotten our joyous reunion already?

Trein: Hmph. Of course I remember your scowling little, "Oh, professor, were you still here?"

Trein: But only six years, I see… Well, why don't you pat yourself on the back for doing as well as you are for such a short tenure?

Crewel: I'm doing well? …Do you truly think so?

Trein: It is a fact that the rate of students pursuing the sciences have increased since you've arrived. There would be no purpose in denying that your instruction is showing good results.

Crewel: Heh… Heheh, is that right?! Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that coming from you.

Trein: And there you go getting carried away and speaking without any forethought. I do believe I've taught you countless times since your time here as a student to respect your elders, haven't I?

Trein: …Now then, if you're feeling better about yourself, we should get this staff meeting underway. I am keeping Lucius waiting.

[Trein walks off]

Crewel: …How insensitive of you, Trein-sensei.

Crewel: Here I am, patiently enduring everything until I can finally go see my dogs over the weekend, and you say that.

[Alchemy Workshop]

Crewel: Now that the meeting is done with, I should try to finish grading the tests while I can.

Crewel: …The rate of students pursuing the sciences, hm. I suppose it's true that everyone's grades are improving, even if at a slow pace. …A truly slow pace.

Crewel: Heh. I do enjoy seeing these pups grow.

[knock, knock, click]

Grim: Hey! I went 'n did that assignment for ya!

Crewel: What is it that you've done for me...?

1. I'll have him try that again. 2. He just misspoke!

Grim: I-I mean, I finished the assignment ya gave me. I'll put it here on the desk, 'kay?

Grim: …Hm? There's a book with a fancy cover mixed in with all these boring lookin' books. What's this?

Crewel: Oh, did that catch your eye? That book contains the collection of an apparel brand I worked for in the past.

Crewel: I keep telling them to not send anything to my office, but are some who just refuse to listen…

Crewel: Not only do I receive their catalogs, but also phone calls, all asking for my advice for the next fashion season.

Crewel: …It's just like your tests, don't you think? I'll have to fix their mistakes later to the best of my abilities.

Grim: Urgh, that sounds annoying. Why don'tcha just ignore 'em?

Crewel: Ignore them… Hahah, that's one idea. I can imagine their panicked and frantic faces.

Crewel: …But no, I do consider this somewhat of a hobby for me.

Crewel: Just because I've become a professor, that does not mean I can fall behind the current fashion. I want to constantly be checking the latest trends.

Crewel: I'm sure even you'd prefer a fashionably cool instructor over some decrepit, antiquated teacher, right?

1. I want a cool teacher.

Crewel: Right? You're quite a lucky one on that account, pup, because you have me as your homeroom teacher!

2. I want a nice teacher.

Crewel: You'll get bored if they're just nice all the time, you know. You might understand what I mean when you get a bit older.

Grim: I don't really get all that hard fashion stuff, but I totally wanna look cooler!

Crewel: Well, I'll consider that good enough for now. Don't you worry, I'll make sure to turn you into polished gems before graduation.

Crewel: You students here at Night Raven College may have a knack for magic, but your fashion senses are severely lacking.

Crewel: …And since I've taken on the duties of being your teacher, I won't allow that to continue.

Crewel: When I first started here, I vowed that I would craft every single one of you into the most fashionable and capable mages you can be.

Crewel: You have a first-class instructor, and first-rate instruction. …It would be impossible for you all to not become fantastic mages.

Grim: Heh. I'm totally gonna become a great mage even without your help!

Crewel: Hahah, you're a cheeky one. …Now then, if you've finished your task, go on. Looks like your friends have arrived to walk you out.

Crewel: Your time as a student may seem long, but it is deceptively short. I will do what I can to support all of you so that you can live your life here without any regrets.

Requested by @revengeofreaper32.

[fiddleyoumust]

Let’s talk about queerness and High School Frenemy. There’s a large portion of BL fandom that refuses to engage with the show, and while that rubs me the wrong way, I do understand it. If you only wish to consume queer media, it’s easy to dismiss HSF since it is not explicitly queer. It’s also a show that on a surface level, looks like classic queerbaiting. And before I get a bunch of HSF fans in the tags or comments, I am a huge fan of this show. It is possibly the best thing I’ve watched all year. But on a surface level, it is doing the literal definition of queerbaiting even if I personally do not think it is. 

As a person who is OLD and came of age in the 90s, I do want to talk about this show from a queer perspective. I grew up in a time when queer characters were not abundant. If they did show up in media, it was newsworthy. These characters were always support characters and seldom had love interests or explored what it was like to be queer. None of them looked like me or made me feel seen or represented. Heteronormativity was the standard, as it is today, but back then, a queer kid seldom encountered anything that made them question that heteronormativity. 

HSF, and Shin and Saint specifically, resonate with me more than most queer media I’ve consumed, and I’ve consumed a lot. The intense, obsessive love that Shin and Saint have for each other under the guise of friendship IS my story. For me, it was a wild girl named Jennifer, who I was attached to the hip with from 6th grade until our early twenties. I loved her. I was obsessed with her. I was probably in love with her, but it never occurred to me until years after we’d stopped speaking that what I felt for her was more than friendship. The heteronormative brainworms are real, and they infected me until my late 20s when I suddenly had a revelation about myself. 

Hindsight is 20/20. Suddenly, my obsession with Charlize Theron in Two Days In The Valley, Helen Hunt in Twister (1996), and Kate Winslet in Titanic made so much sense. My relationship with Jennifer was also at the forefront of my mind. Ah, I thought. That’s what that was.

HSF is a show about friendship, a show about community, a show about the ways adults fail their children, a show about class and poverty. It is also a show about unrealized queerness. The director, Fon, told that story purposefully through music, lighting, and dialogue, she told a story about two boys who can’t live without each other, but don’t have the knowledge, the vocabulary, or the self-awareness to understand what they are to each other.

In every choice Fon made, she dangled queerness without explicitly naming it. I would call it queerbaiting in any other media,  but for me, she made one other choice that I believe is purposeful and elevates this show into the queer category for me. She completely stripped the show of heteronormativity. There are no couples. None. We never see Chatjen’s parents. Any parents we do see are single - Ken’s father, Shin’s mother, Saint’s father, Cable’s mother.

In any other media, the male and female homeroom teachers with clashing teaching styles would  be an enemies-to-lovers side plot. Here, they grow into supportive co-workers and friends who become better versions of themselves to help the children in their class. In any other media, there would be talk of crushes among the teenagers. Here, we see them grapple with the pressures of academia, abusive or absentee parents, bullying, drugs, and the hopelessness of poverty. In fact, the only mention of sexuality or romance at all comes from Eve, a girl who befriends Airy, a girl from their rival school, and confesses that she had a crush on her when she was younger. Nothing comes of this revelation, even though we see Airy become curious and seek out Eve’s company prior to this revelation, and we see how pleased Airy is about Eve’s confession. But this is a show about unrealized queerness and even Eve and Airy, two girls who understand what they are feeling for one another, still can’t bring themselves to name it.

The lack of heterosexuality creates a void that is filled by Shin and Saint’s relationship. It’s purposeful, and Director Fon uses other friendships in the show to highlight the ways Shin and Saint are not the same. Knot, Nate, and Ken are extremely close friends. They, too, have a “no one left behind” friendship pact. They fight for each other and get hurt for each other and very obviously love each other. Chatjen and Shin’s friendship is also very deep. Chatjen considers Shin his best friend. He hero worships him a bit and sees him as his protector and savior. Yet, anyone watching can understand the ways the producers use music, lighting, costuming, and dialogue to elevate Shin and Saint’s relationship above all the other ones. 

High School Frenemy is queer. Shin and Saint are purposefully queer coded in a world devoid of heterosexuality. You are seeing what you are supposed to see, and it's a hill I’ll die on. If you were on the fence about this show, I can not recommend it enough. It’s great and will leave you feeling warm and happy and loved. If you only consume explicitly queer media, I still encourage you to watch it. Sometimes, our queerness eludes us. Sometimes it’s hidden under other words like “friendship” because we haven’t learned the right words for it yet. I enjoyed watching a show that reminded me of my youth and gave me a glimpse of the girl I used to be. She was still queer even if she didn't know it yet.

[imfoive]

Loser Club

Jisung x Reader (fem.) Genre: High School au!/College au!, Best Friend! Jisung, Friends-to-Lovers, Love at First Sight, Romance, Angst, mutual pining Warnings: mentions of cursing, drinking, somewhat proofread WC: 9.7k A/N: I really thought I was gonna scrap this all those weeks ago, but finally the motivation struck and winter season really got me into completing it. I really hope you’ll like it as much as I enjoyed struggling with writing it 🫶 Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

──────────────────────── They say that watching the first snowfall of the year with the person you love, makes your love last forever.

A saying Han Jisung had heard on television the night before.

Just some random line from a drama his mother had been watching as he passed through the hall. Yet, for some reason, the words had lingered on his mind, and now, as he lay on the snow piled ground, they were still there, hovering through his thoughts.

The young boy stared up at the clear sky, watching the delicate snowflakes fall softly around him, his body pressed flush against the white sheets that covered the ground.

Although he wasn’t particularly attached to those words, and it wasn’t even the first snowfall of the year, Jisung found himself beginning to believe in them.

His wide eyes now focused on the girl who peered down at him, her figure bent in curiosity.

The shadow of her form that towered over him, shielded his gaze from the early morning sky, and Jisung could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

   “Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, her breath puffing in the cold air as she spoke.

The slightly stunned boy gulped, slowly sitting up. His fingers crunched through the soft snow that had cushioned his fall.

He had slipped, embarrassingly so.

But he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he gave a lie. A desperate attempt to sound cooler than “I fell on my ass.”

   “Just taking in the morning sun.” He muttered, and instantly regretted it.

There was a pause. Jisung mentally cursed himself, while the girl blinked at him, processing his words.

Then, to his surprise, she smiled. A bright, toothy grin that made his heart skip a beat.

   “Then, have you had your fill of the morning sun, or do you want to lay back down?” Her gaze drifted to the outline of his body still imprinted in the snow where he had fallen.

The question bewildered him even more, making him laugh, a gloved hand instinctively covering his mouth to stifle the sound. He shook his head.

The girl stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, her eyes glancing at the school uniform he wore, peeking out from his haphazardly zipped jacket. The same uniform she had on.

   “Are you a freshman?” She asked, her voice still soft, still sweet.

Jisung found it beautiful.

He mentally chided himself again and cleared his throat.

   “Yes. I’m-I’m Han Jisung.” He stammered, suddenly feeling shy.

Her smile widened.

   “Nice to meet you, Jisung. I’m Y/N.” She took out a gloveless hand from her pocket, pointing toward the direction of their school.

   “Also a freshman.”

Then her hand extended to him, hovering between them for a shake.

   “Let’s be friends.”

Her words made his heart skip another beat. Jisung stared at her awaiting hand before he looked at her and nodded almost eagerly, a little too quick to shake her hand.

Her giggle rang out, and Jisung couldn’t help but stare at her, fascinated. Captivated.

There was another saying that suddenly flashed through his mind.

One he hadn’t believed in. One he hadn’t ever had the chance to experience.

Yet.

But today, he felt it. Right here, right now, on the first day of school.

Love at first sight.

It was an instantaneous friendship, one might say. After the entrance assembly, Jisung found himself in the same class as Y/N. His steps faltered as he entered their homeroom, spotting her already seated by the window. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, and without hesitation, her hand shot up to wave, silently inviting him to sit next to her.

And he did.

It was the start of a friendship that, in time, Jisung would come to regret, slightly. Come to love, mostly.

They had stuck together through their freshman year, and now, as sophomores, they found themselves sitting next to each other again. Staring down at the club forms that needed to be filled out by the end of the day.

Jisung glanced over at Y/N, eyes tracing the contours of her concentrated expression, tucking back a strand of hair. A casual gesture that made his stomach flutter.

She finished scribbling something on her form, then looked up at him.

Caught off guard, he quickly blinked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring.

   “You’re joining too right?” She raised a brow, eyes shooting to his blank form.

The boy next to her narrowed his gaze, glancing at her scribbles, the terrible handwriting he had surprisingly mastered to read over the past year and half.

   “Art?” He tilted his head, confused.

   “You don’t have a single artistic bone in your body.” He chuckled, pencil tapping loudly at the word she had written.

A remark that made her scoff, shoving him with her elbow, his figure swaying in his seat as he stifled a laugh.

   “So I’ll learn, stupid.” She muttered, then reached over to scribble something on his sheet before standing up to hand hers in.

Jisung leaned in to read what she had written and groaned.

Loser Club.

   “Y/N!” He muttered under his breath, watching as she made a taunting face at him, sticking her tongue out.

Immediately erasing the words, he quickly jotted down “Art”, before hurriedly following behind her.

Art Club was exactly how Jisung had pictured it. He watched his best friend struggle to draw even a decent stick figure, groaning in frustration when she couldn’t even manage a straight line with the help of a ruler.

But here was where Jisung discovered his unexpected talent. That without too much effort, he was able to draw precise shapes, straight lines and nearly perfect circles with ease. It stunned him every time, his lips forming a surprised pout as he glanced from his flawless circle to Y/N, who clapped in approval.

So, when their art teacher suggested he might want to consider a career where he could put his skill to use, Jisung quickly searched online and decided, just like that, he wanted to be an architect.

It was an anticlimactic decision, made in an instant, leaving both Y/N and their art teacher blinking at him with dumbfounded expressions.

And like that sophomore year ended.

The break between the new school years seemed to have flown by almost. And now as the best friends started school yet again, some things seemed to have changed.

Y/N had grown even prettier over the summer. And even though he saw her almost every other day during the vacation, except for the last three weeks when he visited his grandmother before school started, Y/N seemed to have blossomed almost overnight.

Her eyes sparkled as she waved at him from the front gates of the school on the first day. That same feeling he’d had the first time they met. The first time she looked down at him in the snow, washed over him again, only this time with much more intensity. It sucker-punched him straight in the chest.

It was during junior year of high school that he realized. Maybe he had unknowingly joined that Loser Club.

Because that’s when he understood. Jisung was crushing on Y/N. His best friend.

The girl who knew everything about him.

The girl who he knew everything about.

And, more painfully, knew that she didn’t like him back.

The best friends were always stuck at the hip. Like glue to paper, like gum to the bottom of a shoe.

Their classmates and teachers were never surprised to see them partner up. Eye rolls followed whenever one mentioned the other, as if they’d ever forget to take their names together. They even applied to the same college.

Then one day, a classmate asked,

   “Are you guys dating?”

Jisung stared at the taller boy, who wore glasses and tilted his head with a curious expression. They were seniors now, and Jisung wondered why this kid had decided to ask after all these years of them being inseparable.

But instead of answering, Jisung fell silent, his mind racing.

Should he tell the truth?

That he planned to confess before college started in the Fall.

That he wanted to be her boyfriend.

But the words wouldn’t come. The boy who asked groaned in frustration.

   “Why aren’t you answering?”

Jisung opened his mouth, but ultimately fell silent.

   “Why would you ask something stupid like that?”

Y/N’s voice cut through the tension, and Jisung flinched.

At the words that was worse than a rejection. Cutting deep.

Shattering the plans he’d built in his head. The imaginary dates, the dream of becoming a corny campus couple.

He thinned his lips into a smile as Y/N approached.

“Yeah. Can’t a guy and girl just be friends?” He tasted bitter with every word that came out of his mouth.

At his lie that slipped a little too easily, his attempts to mask his hurt.

Unbeknownst that Y/N’s fingers were clenched around the side of her skirt. That she had felt a sting from the moment Jisung hesitated in response to the boy’s question.

She had watched him pause, unsure of how to label their relationship, more than friends?

Or just a sibling-like bond, like someone had joked about a year ago? Putting the thought into her head ever since.

And now, it seemed the answer was clear. Just friends.

Just best friends.

And soon, the best friends were walking across the stage at graduation.

Their smiles were wide as they stood side by side, their parents snapping endless pictures after the ceremony.

   “Closer, closer—Jisung, hold the flowers between you two.” Her father instructed.

   “Y/N, your hair—fix that part. Okay, perfect” His mother gestured with a smile as she raised the camera.

Y/N grinned brightly, but Jisung’s gaze faltered on her, on the beautiful expression that made his heart tighten.

He knew he couldn’t confess today. He couldn’t tell her how much he liked her, how he wanted to be her boyfriend, to be hers.

Instead, he smiled widely, his arm slipping behind them to make a peace sign over her head as their parents snapped the photo.

High school was over, but the Loser Club seemingly persisted.

────────────────────────

   “Are you going to join any clubs?”

Y/N stared down at the flyer that one of these campus clubs’ members handed to her.

   “Taekwondo.” She read aloud, eyes scanning over the jumble of words before she looked over to Jisung.

The quiet man reached for the flyer, taking it away before she read too much into it and decided Taekwondo was something she wanted to do. He could already see her getting hurt attempting a high-kick or something.

The first semester of college had started earlier that week, and already, they were thrown into so much chaos. From the piling workload they’d already received to the extracurricular activities and clubs that seemed to be shoved down their throats, everything felt slightly overwhelming.

   “I barely have time to breathe.” He muttered with a sigh, his head shooting around all the club tents set up on this sunny afternoon.

There was a club for everyone, interests that drew them in. But truth be told, Jisung didn’t seem to find one that caught his attention. Attracted him to whatever they offered.

Especially after Y/N had begrudgingly accepted the fact that she wasn’t good at art, albeit four years too late, he didn’t feel the need to join anything else.

His eyes settled on his best friend. The girl titled her head as she took in his words, making a face in response.

Han Jisung was already in a club.

His own club, one that existed only in his mind. A club dedicated entirely to her.

A place where he could freely think of her, love her, and pine for her.

The Loser Club. The one she had unknowingly created all those years ago when she scribbled it on his form.

The Loser Club, where he was now the only member. The biggest loser, all by himself. And yet, he didn’t particularly hate it.

Around them, club representatives were calling out to freshmen, trying to recruit them into whatever they had to offer for the next four years. Their wide smiles and booming voices filled the air as Jisung and Y/N walked through the bustling scene.

   “You say that as if I have all the free time in the world.” Y/N scoffed at the words he had uttered, turning to glare at him.

Then she pointed a finger accusingly.

   “Are you trying to say being a communications major isn’t hard?”

Her dramatic leap to conclusions made him stumble in his step, before he broke into a breathy chuckle. His eyes landed on her slight pout, which only made her look even cuter. Without thinking, his hand reached out to tousle her hair, fingers combing through it just to mess it up a little.

   “It’s the hardest major out there.” He teased.

   “Even harder than Architecture—no, harder than pre-med.”

Before he could enjoy his sarcastic remark, the whacks she gave him, one for his words and another for messing up her hair, made him shout a loud “oof!” He quickly darted ahead to avoid another hit.

The two of them kept running, chasing each other.

Neither of them joined a club their freshman year.

────────────────────────

Jisung had started packing his things, the last of the students walking out of the lecture room after his professor.

He had been sitting next to his friend Lee Minho, an older guy who changed his major to architecture last semester. He had ended up befriending Jisung, who was one of the “brightest students” according to some of their professors, taking the older man under his guidance.

Though he was a good guy, he was quite smug. A attractive man who got stares from girls whenever they walked across campus together. Making Jisung wonder why he had changed his major from finance, he would have fit in so well there.

   “So your friend…” Minho’s voice had broken the silence.

Jisung froze, his fingers halting at the zipper of his backpack for a split second, before he shuts it close. Turning to face Minho.

   “What friend?”

Of course he knows who this man was referring to.

His only friend.

The one the two guys met this afternoon on their way to this class. She had stolen his bottle of juice as she and her roommate who had been with her, introduced themselves to Minho, the older man breaking into sheepish smiles as they exchanged greetings, his eyes lingering over Y/N.

His best friend.

The only one outside of this department that waltzed in and knocked on the door of the architectural studio almost every day. Bothering him at his workstation, while he attempted to get things done.

Of course he pretended to be irritated when she distracted him, of course he really wasn’t.

Just like he was pretending now. Staring at Minho with the most confused expression he could put on.

Minho hesitated for a moment, watching Jisung blink back at him

   “C’mon man. Your pretty friend. Y/N.”

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribs. He prayed that Minho was simply asking about her health or something innocent like that.

But of course, that wasn’t it.

   “Is she single?”

The question settled between them as Jisung processed it, his eyes blinking a few times, staring at Minho’s awaiting gaze.

He wanted to shove this man out of his chair.

He wanted to tell him that Y/N wasn’t single. She was, but not for him.

She would never be single, no matter who asked.

He wanted to swat away any potential suitors as swiftly as he could, as many times as he needed.

Y/N was pretty. A fact he had known since he was a freshman in high school. A painstaking fact that made him simmer in jealousy and bitterness whenever she got the attention of other wandering eyes.

And now his friend. This handsome hunk, this jackass that she had commented was cute before they parted ways earlier that afternoon, was asking about the same pretty Y/N.

His best friend, who was single. Had been single ever since he’d known her.

A fact he couldn’t lie about, even if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want her to miss out on the experiences of youth she claimed to want as they spoke about college that one evening, back in their senior year of high school.

His heart was not letting him lie, just because he was a loser who could never confess.

Instead of shoving Minho out of his seat, Jisung stood. Looking down at the guy who stared up at him slightly stunned, slightly confused.

   “She…she is...” He finally voiced out.

He watched as the seated man’s lips thinned into a grin, before he’s cheesing with a smile. One of the widest ones Jisung had seen. And suddenly he regretted it, clutching at his backpack as tightly as he could to calm himself down.

   “Good to know. Thanks!” Minho stood as well, grabbing his things before turning to the shorter man.

   “She’s visiting the studio later right?” He faltered at the door, turning to find a still Jisung rooted to his spot.

   “I don’t know.”

It was a lie.

She was going to visit later. Because Jisung would be at his workstation, and she absolutely loved wracking his brain, hushed mutters and grabby fingers touching all his materials as he attempted to work.

Even if he wasn’t particularly paying any attention to her. She still showed up. Pulling up a chair to oversee whatever he worked on as if she understood what he was doing.

He’d pretend like she was in the way. Often putting her to use by making her cut and score the board materials he was going to use in his 3D model.

And on days when he was really concentrated, really busy, she would pull out her own work, opening her textbook at the little corner of the table Jisung always left empty for her to scatter her things.

Minho let out a “hmmm” before he clicked his tongue.

   “I guess we’ll see in the evening. See you then.” He waved, his figure disappearing out the door of the lecture hall.

The rest of Jisung’s day had seemed to have gone in a blur. His mind slightly dazed, slightly distracted.

Then he received a text from her.

His pretty friend.

The one who was single. The one he was in love with. Too much of a coward to cross that almost forbidden line.

It was a casual text, asking him if he planned to “drown in his miseries after classes to work on his next project.”

It was her way of saying she would stop by. That she was probably going to bring him something quick to eat before he drifted into his frustrations.

Jisung found himself typing.

   Too busy. Don’t come please.

Then he waited, his legs slightly bouncing up and down as he stared at the screen.

He had never told her not to show up. Never used proper punctuation in their messages, something he looked back at with dread.

But to his surprise, she responded with an emoji. A thumbs up. Followed by properly punctuated messages. Mirroring his.

   Okay loser. Don’t overdo it.

It should have made him feel less anxious. That he had avoided her running into Minho later. But he felt shitty. For pulling such a stunt when he had basically told Minho to pursue her.

Sure he didn’t really tell that handsome friend of his to “go for it”, but he didn’t stop him either.

He didn’t put an end to whatever interests sparked in the older man’s eyes. He should have.

But Jisung was a coward.

And now he was stewing in guilt, in irritation. In his own pitiful situation.

   “—Hello, earth to loser!” Y/N exclaimed, fingers taking out the headphones that were in Jisung’s ears.

The seated boy looked up from his workstation, at his best friend who leaned against the edge of his desk, towering over his form.

Startled eyes taking in her sudden presence here.

Surprised that she was here. Even after she said she wouldn’t come.

   “How much longer?” She groaned, eyes glossing over his sketch pad, at the poor eraser that was much shorter than she saw the day before, its savings scattered to a designated corner.

The seated man’s eyes darted around the studio. At the empty workstations he swore he saw a few others working at, Minho working at. Only to find them empty. Then his brows furrowed as he glanced out the large glass windows.

The sun had set long, and he realized that he had been holed up here longer than usual. Until he was the last one left behind.

He had told her not to come today, and surprisingly she listened.

For the most part. Because she was here now, looking at him with her head tilted.

   “Sheesh, you really were busy huh?” Her eyes were back on his sketches, on the model he had started working on, trying to make heads or tails of it.

   “What is taking so long?” She muttered at the sight of it all, making her feel dumber by the moment as she stood straight.

   “I’ve texted you a hundred times.”

Her quiet best friend glanced at his phone.

   “…Ah, I muted notifications. Sorry about that.”

Y/N sensed something was off. Her eyes squinted as his explanation came a little too easily. At his wary gaze that kept looking towards the studio doors.

   “Let’s get something to eat, you’re clearly hungry.” She chalked it up to just that, sure he wouldn’t have even told her what seemed to bother him even if she pressed.

Maybe she would pull it out of him over food. Y/N doesn’t wait for his response, already grabbing his phone, his headphones and then stuffing them in his bag.

Jisung mirrored. Grabbing the things he needed before tidying his equipment. Leaving his model for the next day. The computer screen he had opened with the blueprint was powered off quickly.

The corridor outside the studio was mostly empty now, with only one or two students lingering in the lounge, absorbed in their laptops. Jisung grabbed his bag from Y/N, pulling the straps over his shoulders. Before he could ask what she wanted to eat, a voice calling his name made him freeze.

His hands stalled on his backpack straps, too afraid to turn around and face Minho.

The older man, one of the students who had been sitting in the lounge, looked surprised to see Y/N.

   “Hi, Y/N. Good to see you again.” Minho smiled, an awkward hand brushing the back of his neck before his gaze shifted to the suddenly tense Jisung.

   “Oh, hi.” Y/N’s voice was sweet and polite, the words pleasant, but they pricked at Jisung’s nerves.

Words that shouldn’t have had that effect, yet still did. Especially knowing that Minho was looking at her the same way he did.

Jisung watched as a smile spread across Y/N’s lips, her eyes fixed on the older man.

   “Are you leaving for the day?” Minho asked, though his gaze seemed to linger a little too long on Y/N.

Jisung struggled to find words, instead opting to nod as he cleared his throat, hoping it would make him speak.

   “We’re grabbing something to eat.” Y/N cut in, her eyes shifting from Jisung to Minho.

   “You should join us if you haven’t eaten yet.”

The invitation was polite, but Jisung could hear the overt sweetness in her tone. The kind that came from habit, a well-worn courtesy. He knew it well.

But still, it stung.

   “Ah! Could I? I haven’t eaten yet.” Minho’s grin widened, and he exchanged a knowing look with Jisung, who shot a sharp glance back.

Minho had devoured a burger only an hour ago in the studio, a sight Jisung had witnessed from his desk.

Y/N’s hand gently gripped his forearm, pulling him from his thoughts. But Jisung couldn’t tear his eyes away from Minho’s gaze. There was something pleading in it.

Unspoken words in the way he looked at her.

The kind of look guys gave their friends when they wanted alone time with a girl.

And Minho’s gaze screamed just that. He wanted time alone with her.

Jisung swallowed hard, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

   “Oh. I forgot. I can’t go.” He lied, the words coming out too quickly, and Y/N frowned, confused.

Minho raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a subtle smile as Jisung played his part.

   “What do you mean, can’t go?”

   “I have to submit something. I—You two have fun.” Jisung forced a smile, the first one she’d seen from him all evening, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

   “Suddenly?” She pressed, her grip tightening on his arm.

Jisung opened his mouth, perhaps to offer another excuse, but Minho cut in smoothly, his brows raised in mock surprise.

   “You didn’t submit Professor Kim’s physics assignment yet?”

Another lie. A good one, though. One that would clear the way for Minho to take Y/N to dinner.

Get her number. Share stories. Laugh.

Maybe things would go so well that Minho would walk her back to the dorms. Maybe they’d do it again. And again. Until Minho asked her out, until they’re walking around campus holding hands, grins plastered on their faces.

The scenarios piled up in Jisung’s mind, overwhelming him. His hands tightened on his backpack straps, trying to ground himself.

Y/N’s hand slipped away from his arm, her gaze flicking between him and Minho before she nodded, accepting their lies.

   “Are you sure you can’t spare even ten minutes to eat something?” His best friend’s voice softened, her eyes waiting for Jisung’s response, hoping he’d join them.

That he wouldn’t leave her alone with Minho.

But Jisung didn’t respond in the way she wanted. He shook his head, a silent “no.”

Y/N hesitated, then turned and walked ahead. Minho flashed Jisung a wide grin, raising a hand in a subtle thumbs-up before following her. Jisung stood frozen, clutching his backpack, rooted to the spot.

And that’s how it started.

The lies. The strained smiles. The excuses that always left her alone with Lee Minho.

The distance.

Her best friend had begun to pull away, convincing himself she needed to focus on a love life.

A love life she had confessed to wanting every time they drank a little too much, a little too openly, her desires spilling out, vulnerable and raw.

He remembered every word, it seemed. Yet he couldn’t see that everything she had wanted, all of it, was with him.

The feelings. The desires.

The love life she had dreamed of.

She wanted it with her best friend. The same one who was now distancing himself from her.

It was so obvious.

Han Jisung may have been a smartass, a genius, but when it came to lying to his best friend, he was shit at it. He couldn’t even fool her. Especially not now, when every word felt like another betrayal.

And every time she found herself alone with Lee Minho, that painful sting in her chest grew sharper. The two of them would sit together, laughing over dinner, or coincidentally bump into each other on their way to class, while Jisung gave every excuse under the sun to avoid them.

   “That fucker.” Y/N’s roommate muttered, watching as Y/N wiped away another tear.

   “Don’t call him that, Yura.” Y/N sniffled, her voice weak, though she still managed to shoot the girl next to her a defensive glare.

Yura, her roommate since freshman year, had figured out everything about Y/N’s feelings for Jisung long before Y/N had fully admitted them to her, herself. In fact, she had mistaken Jisung for her boyfriend during the first week after moving into the dorms. The way Y/N and Jisung interacted was so comfortable, so effortlessly entangled, that it seemed impossible they weren’t a couple. Their constant bickering, their casual closeness.

All spoke of something deeper.

So, when she eventually found out they weren’t together, she stared at them in shock, awkwardly clearing her throat as she pretended she hadn’t made such a blunder.

   “How can he be so blind?” Yura’s voice was incredulous, shaking her head.

Each time she thought about it, it only made less sense.

Yura didn’t know Jisung the way Y/N did, but even she could see it. The way they looked at each other, the things they said, the way they felt. But Y/N wouldn’t believe any of it, not unless Jisung himself said it out loud.

Maybe she too was a fool. A coward afraid to cross a line.

   “How can someone be so good at studies, but so bad at picking up context clues?” Yura muttered, handing Y/N another tissue that she accepted it numbly, wiping her eyes.

Yura paused, thinking for a moment, and then a mischievous smile curled at the corners of her lips.

   “Let’s try something.”

Y/N blinked at her, unsure of what was coming next, suddenly slightly worried.

────────────────────────

Han Jisung stared at Yura, who had cornered him in the library. The shorter girl had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him with a look that was hard to miss.

He wasn’t particularly close to Y/N’s roommate. He’d only seen her at both her and his best friend’s suite. Or at events that both of the roommates attended together, the ones Y/N dragged him along to.

But one thing was clear, Yura and Y/N were close. And sometimes it felt like this roommate of hers was gunning for the title of her “best friend,” although Jisung was sure she could never overtake him.

Lately however, it felt as if she could easily take that title.

With the way Jisung had been acting, distant, avoiding. Made him wonder if he could even call himself Y/N’s best friend anymore.

   “I’m hosting a party.” Yura said, breaking the silence as she reached into her bag, pulling out a makeshift invitation that looked hastily thrown together.

   “I thought you were a marketing major?” Jisung couldn’t help but judge as he took the crumpled invitation from her.

   “I’m in marketing, not design.” Yura groaned, crossing her arms again, returning to her defensive stance.

Jisung wasn’t that clueless. He knew his behavior had caught this aggressive roommate’s attention. Thus, her behavior here made sense. At least she wasn’t completely hostile.

   “Don’t even think about saying you can’t come. I swear, I’ll fight you if you do, Jisung.” Her words were sharp, preempting any excuses he might throw her way.

Jisung inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm.

   “What are you celebrating?” He asked, glancing at the invitation, which only had a date, time, and location.

Some snowflakes and clipart balloons dotted the page.

Truly a horrendous design.

   “Winter.” Yura said with a grin, her arms still crossed.

   “Winter?” Jisung repeated, clearly confused.

What was so special about this cold, miserable weather? Besides the snowflakes that caught your eyes ever one in a while maybe, nothing else about it was tolerable.

Yura nodded enthusiastically.

   “Yep. Winter. A reminder that the semester is finally coming to an end. Always worth celebrating.”

Jisung snorted, unable to suppress a laugh at her ridiculous reasoning.

   “Right. Winter. The end of classes, the start of finals.” He countered, words that earn him another sharp glare from Yura.

   “And that’s exactly why we’re having a party before we all drown in our miseries—God, Jisung, just be there. I have more invitations to hand out.” She groaned again, as if talking to him was the biggest inconvenience.

With a resigned sigh, Jisung finally gave in. He agreed to attend this “celebration of winter”. A party he was pretty sure he didn’t care about.

But he knew Y/N would be there. She’d always be there, supporting her friends. Something he was clearly not doing well.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to see Lee Minho.

Jisung blinked, his gaze snapping to the older man standing next to Y/N as they entered the private room reserved for Yura’s get-together.

He had arrived early, and seeing them walk in together, side by side, hit him harder than he’d expected.

Minho immediately approached him, going in for a greeting handshake, his eyes flicking between the best friends in a clueless, almost innocent way.

   “What are you doing here?” The words slipped from the younger man’s lips before he could stop them.

Minho’s smile widened.

   “Y/N invited me.” He chuckled.

But before he could add anything else, the door to the private room opened again.

Yura and three other friends entered, all familiar faces Jisung had recognized from previous gatherings. The room instantly filled with chatter as Yura shot a glance between the three of them, leaning toward Y/N, her eyes lingering on Minho’s handsome face. The one she’d only gotten a quick glimpse of when they’d bumped into the two architecture students on campus those weeks ago.

Conversations flowed casually. Somehow, Jisung ended up at the far end of the table, separated from Y/N. His best friend had tried to sit next to him, but Minho had already pulled out the chair beside him, and Y/N had politely slid into it.

Jisung felt a bitter twinge rise in his chest. He took a sip of water, trying to wash it away, but the taste lingered.

Small talk filled the space around him as more people trickled in. The food started arriving, and the room grew hotter with bodies and chatter. Jisung found himself retreating into the leather of his seat, trying to block out the noise.

His eyes, however, betrayed him. They kept darting back to Y/N and Minho. The two of them were talking and laughing, looking like they belonged together.

Jisung gulped, watching as Minho casually slipped off his cardigan and draped it over Y/N’s shoulders. The gesture was small but somehow enough to spark a flare of anger inside him.

He opted to take a sip of his beer this time, trying to numb the growing frustration. But his eyes still lingered on them, drawn to the sight of his best friend, now so at ease with the guy who was clearly interested in her.

And Jisung hated it.

He took another sip of beer, trying to keep the storm inside him under control.

The evening stretched on, the so-called celebration of Winter, a concept Yura had romanticized, seemed to elude Y/N’s best friend, who suddenly seemed to despise everything about the party. Jisung’s gaze flicked to the cardigan that still hung over Y/N’s shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully over her figure.

She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

His head dropped, eyes fixed on the tall glass of beer in front of him, pitying himself.

Wasn’t this what he had wanted?

For Y/N to find someone who wasn’t afraid to show how much he wanted to be with her?

For her to have lunch with him, go to dinner, or even just bump into him on campus so he could walk her to class?

A love life. The kind she’d always dreamed of.

Jisung’s thoughts shifted, twisting into a painful knot as he recalled his own desires. The ones he had shoved deep into some corner of his chest after she had practically made it clear she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.

The plans he had, to tell her how he felt. The confession he had rehearsed over and over in his mind, wanting to say how much he longed for her. The fantasy of becoming the cringey campus couple everyone talked about.

Jisung inhaled sharply, the weight of his own thoughts suffocating him. His eyes glazed over the empty mugs of beer he had unknowingly downed while drowning in his pathetic self-loathing.

He couldn’t stay any longer.

Slowly, he slipped out of the room, his footsteps almost silent as he retreated from the crowd, from Y/N, from everything.

   “Well, it seems to be working.” Minho muttered, his gaze sweeping over Jisung at the other end of the table, his younger friend, who appeared lost in his own world.

Y/N glanced between her dazed best friend, a tinge of hurt crossing her expression, before turning back to Minho, who grinned at her.

Han Jisung’s best friend had come clean to him.

About how much she pined for the clueless architect major. The one who was the brightest of their department but terrible at reading her feelings, all the hints she had given him.

Y/N had drawn a line the moment Minho asked if she was okay with him pursuing her.

Sure, it stung a bit, being rejected so easily, so quickly, by a pretty girl.

But it made sense. For Y/N to be in love with Jisung, her best friend, who clearly felt the same but was too afraid to admit it.

And once Minho realized it, he was shocked by how he had missed it. He scolded himself for foolishly asking the man who was in love with her to help set him up.

He felt terrible. So when her roommate had somehow gotten ahold of his number, and had texted him, deviously laying out a ruse to make one of them admit their feelings, he was all in.

   “Project Jealousy”, Yura called it, a name that still made him chuckle. Yet, he knew he played the biggest part.

Throughout the evening, Minho had been doing everything he could to get Jisung’s attention. Gestures, subtle touches, lingering glances. Anything to get a reaction.

He did feel a twinge of guilt. On top of it all, keeping even Y/N in the dark felt wrong.

And after he draped his cardigan over her, she frowned at him, leaning in to tell him she had already made it clear she wasn’t interested in going out with him.

So, he came clean. He watched as Y/N’s eyes grew wide, darting from him to Yura, who suddenly refused to meet her gaze.

   “Don’t worry. He likes you, that I can confidently say.” Minho whispered to her in assurance.

The sight of Jisung drowning in his misery suddenly became a little amusing, and Minho made it his mission to get them together tonight.

He’d lock them in a room together if all else failed.

And when Y/N’s eyes followed Jisung as he slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind him, she turned to find Minho’s surprised gaze, blinking at the now-closed door. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that.

Panic surged through Y/N. Her eyes scanned the empty beer glasses Jisung had left behind, the sight of which only fueled her frustration and anger.

   “Go.” Minho urged gently, grabbing the cardigan she had forgotten about, which had already been slipping off her shoulders.

Jisung watched the snowflakes fluttering through the air. His gaze raking over the dark sight above him.

It was the first snowfall of the year. Yet here he stood, alone.

His eyes followed the flecks of ice drifting down from the night sky, disappearing into nothingness as it touched the ground, the fabric of his jacket, his hot skin.

His breath was visible in the cold air, fading almost instantly with every sigh he let out. He still felt flush out here in the cold, the evening winter breeze slightly biting, even if the flurries weren’t as severe.

He knew he overdid it, had more than he usually would before deciding he was done drinking. But he couldn't help it. Not when, all evening, he watched Minho leaning into Y/N, the older man’s lips parted in toothy grins as he whispered something into her ear, causing her to look back with an wide-eyed expression.

Jisung could tell she had gasped at whatever nonsense Minho had said. But that shock quickly turned to amusement, and she covered her mouth, stifling a laugh behind her fingers.

It was nonsense, he was sure of it.

And even though he was across the table, surrounded by the loud chatter of others, the clattering of utensils ringing in his ears, Jisung’s eyes kept finding their way back to her and Minho.

He took a sip of his beer. Another. One more. By the time he realized his head was spinning and his chest felt tight, he knew he had exceeded his limit.

He cursed under his breath.

And now, standing outside the restaurant, beneath the cold streetlights, he let the cool air settle over him, trying to calm the dizziness and the thumping of his erratic heartbeat. He sighed, trying to wash away the bitterness that lingered on his tongue.

From the beer, from the sight he had watched all evening.

He dropped his head back, leaning against the lamppost, shoving his hands deep into his sweater pockets. His eyes focused on the snow gathering on the ground, watching the snow pile, his eyes glued to his sneakers.

Then he saw the shadow. A figure approaching, standing just inches from him. His eyes settled on the familiar sight of the same matching sneakers on their feet just inches from his.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, staring back at Y/N who looked at him, her expression laced with a slight concern, a slight of something else.

Han Jisung didn’t think anyone would have noticed his absence. Especially not Y/N, his best friend who seemed to be busy entertaining Lee Minho. But here she was now, the only one who had followed behind him it seemed.

Or maybe she had come out with Minho, and seeing him here standing by himself like a sore loser, she came over.

Jisung’s head turned to look for the mentioned man, for the familiar sight of his cardigan that had once slung over Y/N.

   “What’re you doing out here?” Her voice was soft but tinged with concern, her teeth chattering slightly against the chill settling around them.

Maybe she should’ve kept on the thing. Minho’s cardigan.

A thought that made Jisung furrow his brows with irritation.

   “It’s cold.” He muttered instead, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing.

She tilted her head, awaiting for him to continue speaking.

He sighed, his head lolling back against the lamppost as he watched her, taking in the sight of her arms crossed tightly against her chest, a poor attempt to keep warm. The silence stretched on for a few seconds before Y/N sighed, breaking the silence.

   “You’re drunk aren’t you?”

Her hand naturally extended, palms resting against his face, fingers gently brushing against his skin to feel the warmth. The red flush of alcohol that seemed to color him.

Jisung hated it.

These touches.

The ones she so casually gave out, as if they meant nothing.

And suddenly he pictured her doing the same to Lee Minho.

The bitterness in his mouth seemed to grow stronger.

He jerked his head away from her touch, pushing her hand away slowly.

   “I’m not drunk.” His tone was a little sharper than intended.

Y/N blinked, slightly stunned by his reaction, something out of character for Han Jisung.

   “Head back inside. It’s cold.” His voice was quieter now, though it still carried a slight edge. The snow was falling faster, the air growing heavier.

Y/N crossed her arms again, but before she could retort with something sharp, Jisung spoke again, his gaze drifting toward the restaurant.

   “Minho is probably waiting for you.”

The words landed heavily between them.

And just like that, Y/N understood.

That the whole evening he was sulking in his corner, was because she was sitting next to Lee Minho.

That she was keeping him company as his seatmate, and her best friend didn’t seem to like it.

That Jisung was downing drinks, three pints from what she counted, because he was…jealous.

Just like Yura and Minho had wanted him to feel.

But Y/N wanted to tell him off.

Get angry at him for acting like this when he was the one that pushed her to Lee Minho’s side.

She wanted to berate him, wag a finger and ask why he was upset when he’s been playing wingman for weeks.

But she doesn’t say any of that.

Instead she sighed out loud once again. Her heart beating rapidly at the confirmation of his conflictions, at the feelings he still refused to admit.

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heels, her figure receding into the distance as she walked back inside.

Jisung stared at the footprints her sneakers left behind, on the concrete that already had a sheet of snow laying over. His lips part to let out a laugh. A pathetic sound under the light of the street lamp.

A few more minutes passed. And before Jisung decided he had enough fresh air, feeling rather cold now, before he made the choice to leave alone, his gaze once again faltered at her figure that approached.

This time staring wide at her approaching figure.

He didn’t think she would be back.

Didn’t think that she would be in her coat, throwing his padded jacket over him, already zipping it up.

   “Pain in the ass.” She muttered as she did so.

Then her narrowed gaze settled on him. His stunned expression relaxed as he processed the situation.

As he realized that she wasn’t going back inside, that she didn’t intend to linger behind.

That she didn’t care about Lee Minho or whatever nonsense he blabbered.

   “Let’s go.”

Her hand naturally reached down to find his, taking his wrist in her grip before tugging him along. The snow had piled up, slick and slippery beneath their sneakers, but she kept pulling him along, her hand now firmly wrapped around his as she led the way.

Jisung didn’t question where they were going. He wasn’t even sure if he cared. His eyes were fixed on the back of her figure as he followed, lost in the steady rhythm of her steps. The world around him seemed muted, the snow falling heavily now, but his focus remained on her.

It wasn’t until they reached the slope back to campus that Jisung finally returned from his thoughts.

Rather, he stumbled back to reality, slipping on the fresh snow that had piled up a good inch or so.

Before he could regain his balance, he tumbled into her, and the two of them crashed to the ground with loud groans and grunts as they hit the cold earth. The snow-covered grass offered little cushion, and their bodies slid together in an awkward heap.

As the initial shock wore off, Y/N groaned, sitting up slowly, her gaze falling on Jisung, still lying beside her. His eyes fluttered open, staring at the sky, cheeks flushed and the tip of his nose bright red from the cold. The snow continued to fall around them, some of it melting against his skin, leaving damp spots on his face and jacket.

He didn’t move. He just stared at the sky, the night dark and quiet around them, the chill stinging his cheeks.

And finally, finally Jisung had mustered up some courage.

   “I don’t want you to date him.”

The thoughts left his mouth in a low murmur, quiet but heavy. Thoughts that had clouded his mind ever since Minho had asked about her.

Ever since he lied, pretended that it didn’t bother him everytime he pushed her toward some other guy.

Finally spoken into words.

His confession made her stare down at him with wide eyes, darting between his gaze that remained on the white specks floating in the air. Too scared to face the kind of expression she made.

   “Why…” Her response was equally as quiet, a kind of whisper he hadn’t heard from her before.

The tense man opened his mouth, then fell silent.

How would he explain it?

The turmoil, the feelings.

The fact that he had been in love with her since the moment he saw her.

How could he jeopardize what they had now? A beautiful friendship that he never wanted to lose, never could imagine living without.

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to scream it out into the night.

But he was a coward.

Like he had been back then.

Like he was going to be now. His mouth closed, deciding to remain quiet.

He could hear her inhale sharply. A low mutter of something, a curse perhaps, before she glared down at him. A hot gaze he could feel burning into him.

   “Because you were jealous.”

The words came out, firm and certain. A statement, rather than a question.

Ones that make his eyes shoot to her, finally getting a proper look at her expression. At the irritated furrow of her brows, an unreadable glint in her gaze as she peered down at him, speaking nothing but the truth.

She ran her fingers through her hair, which was now wet from the melted snow, the icy strands slicking back against her scalp. Her face was still flushed from the cold, her eyes narrowed at him with something sharp, but there was a hint of something softer there too.

   “Are you sober?” Y/N’s voice cut through the silence.

Jisung blinked at her, bewildered by the question, his eyes wide as he stared up at her. Then, his lips tugged into that confused pout she had always hated, a sight that made her heart clench because of how adorable she found it.

He didn’t trust his voice, so instead he nodded.

   “Good.”

It took Jisung a moment to fully register what was happening.

The soft press of her lips against his was searing hot. A sharp contrast to the coldness around them, damp with the snow that had melted against his skin.

His eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling as he fully realized that she was kissing him.

Her lips felt soft and plush, moving gently against his.

And just like the snowflakes that dotted their skin, Jisung felt himself melt instantly. Into the kiss. Into her cold fingers that cradled his jaw, guiding him closer, pressing herself into him, deepening the kiss.

Driving him crazy.

Jisung wished it could be a moment that would last forever. But, alas, she pulled away. The tip of her nose was redder than before, from being pressed against his, and her breath came out in heavier puffs, fogging up the chilly air between them.

He swallowed hard, staring at her, frozen in place. He was afraid to move, afraid to sit up, afraid to kiss her properly. Most of all, he was terrified that she might slap a hand over her mouth, her face contorting into disgust, her eyes wide with regret.

Afraid she was going to tell him she hadn’t meant to kiss him at all.

   “You don’t want me to be with him. You want me to be with you.”

Her words cut through the chaos in his mind, shattering the doubts that had clouded his thoughts.

His gaze flickered between her eyes, trying to piece together what she was saying. It was a painfully true statement, and he wondered when she had figured it out.

When she had caught on.

To his lingering gazes, his almost forbidden thoughts.

Maybe he didn’t hide his jealousy as well as he thought.

   “Tell me. That you want me to be with you. That you want me too. I-I need to hear it, Jisung. Out loud.”

Y/N sat upright, her eyes boring into his, gleaming with a sudden anxiety that made his breath hitch.

She was asking for a sincere confession.

Something to ground her. To give her a validation, long overdue. To not have to guess whether his touches were just friendly or charged with something else.

If his intent gazes that she often caught him staring with, meant more than he claimed.

That he was hers.

And seeing that flicker of anxiety in her gaze, that fear of uncertainty, had Jisung scrambling to sit up.

The snow that had settled over his body scattered like dust. His hands moved instinctively, reaching for hers, fingers trembling as he took them in his.

   “I-I want you—I want you to be with me. I was jealous.” The words spilled from him, loud and raw, falling from his lips without hesitation.

Something desperate that he couldn’t hide.

His tone, tinged with eagerness.

It sounded like the first time she had asked him to be her friend. How he had eagerly nodded, his hand shaking hers instantly.

A response that she couldn’t help but break into a grin at. Both his confession and his suddenly awkward form, sitting on his knees soothing that prick that had been lingering in her heart, made this moment sweeter.

His hands, warming hers.

   “Good.” The word came out in a whispered repeat.

Her hands slipped from his, reaching for the material of his jacket. She tugged him toward her, pulling him into a kiss. A real kiss.

A proper kiss.

The kind that Jisung returned with equal fervor, his hands trailing over her face before sliding to the warmth of her neck, pulling her in closer. His cold fingers made her shiver, excitement buzzing in her veins as she parted her lips, desperate to deepen their entanglement.

And she did, their mouths working together in a way that made minds reel. Until, after what felt like forever, yet still not long enough, Jisung pulled away.

His breath came out in ragged gasps, his hands still cradling her neck, fingers entangled in her hair. He had been sitting up on his knees, his jeans wet, and cold. Yet all he felt was his skin burning, the feel of her against him, driving him crazy.

Jisung dropped his head in attempts to calm himself, closed eyes processing the whirlwind of emotions, taking deep, steadying breaths before looking back at her.

Her face was flushed, lips swollen from their kiss, wide eyes staring back at his equally flushed expression. Her lips still wet from their kiss. Her gaze awaited.

He gulped, his mouth parting as he finally grounded himself.

   “Yo-you can’t take it back.” He stammered almost, his serious gaze boring into her soul, searching for certainty.

   “You’re mine.” His tone softened to a whisper, a quiet confession that had been building inside him for far too long, finally free after being locked away in that tiny corner of his heart.

Her brows relax, gentle eyes trailing over his expression before she smiled.

   “I’ve always been yours, loser.” Y/N murmured, her voice teasing yet full of warmth, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Something she decided was the most amazing feeling in the world, something she realized she could not get enough of.

The Loser Club had been a two-member group from the start.

────────────────────────

The first days of school had always been intimidating. Especially the first day of high school.

A new school. A new environment. New faces.

For Y/N, the nerves hit harder. She had moved to this town the summer after middle school, knowing absolutely no one. She hadn’t gone to school here before, and the unknowns felt heavy on her chest.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring at the winter sky. The sun had peeked through the early morning haze, casting a pale light across the world, but the air was still bitterly cold.

Y/N shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, trying to keep the chill from her fingers. The snow had piled up overnight, crunching under her shoes as she walked. She kicked at it absently as she neared the school, her heart pounding in her chest.

The streets were empty, quiet. The early morning stillness before everyone else began to rush to class. She glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar route, wondering how many times she would walk it in the next few years.

Then, her steps faltered. Her gaze locked onto a figure ahead.

A boy had slipped on the icy ground, his arms flailing as he tried to regain balance before falling backward.

The thud of his body hitting the soft snow was loud in the stillness of the morning. A sound that made Y/N’s gasp, her hand instinctively reaching out, as if she could somehow help from a distance.

But as she continued to watch, her confusion deepened.

The boy didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up. He just lay there, staring up at the sky as if he had all the time in the world. He didn’t even attempt to move, just blinking slowly, watching the snowflakes drifting down from above.

Y/N’s gaze followed his, lifting her eyes to the delicate white specks falling through the sky. It was a beautiful, calming moment, one that suddenly eased the tightness in her chest in a way she hadn’t expected.

The boy remained where he was, eyes still fixed on the sky, unbothered by the cold or the snow around him.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she walked closer. The snow crunched under her feet as she approached, her figure casting a shadow over him.

She tilted her head, studying him.

He was cute, she thought.

Suddenly, the boy blinked, his eyes widening as he looked up at her, startled. His mouth parted in surprise.

Her brows furrowed slightly in amusement.

   “Are you okay?”

Jisung’s eyes grew even wider, and for a brief, breathless moment, something shifted between them.

A flutter. An inexplicable pull.

That feeling. The one that surged in their chests at the same time it seemed.

Love at first sight. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part two to this story

After Jason's cruel display and your identity of Eddie's admirer being public knowledge, you're sure he will be disgusted. He hates you and your friends doesn't he?

Turns out you're in for a big surprise.

Minors shoo! Angst, fluff, sweet Eddie and reader taking no shit.

If you have any requests then send me an ask. My request rules are in my pinned post ❤️

🎀💌

Hellfire Slut. The words had practically burned into your brain as you tossed and turned in bed. Jason's cruelty was nothing new but you didn't think he'd ever go this far.

It was bad enough that Eddie's best friend had caught you in the act of delivering the notes and the thought he could spill all to Eddie, you didn't expect your secret to come out in such a public way.

The notes that you had poured your heart to Eddie had been clear to see by everyone and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn't care that people knew you were smitten with Eddie, it was the fact that he was probably disgusted that you had feelings for him.

You dreaded going to school but you knew you had to face Eddie and Jason at some point. It didn't stop nightmares plaguing your mind all night about what would happen come first period.

...

Homeroom was the first thing today before any other classes, you try not to draw attention to yourself as you slide into a seat at the back of class. However it feels like all eyes are on you today, Chrissy takes the seat beside you and holds your hand giving it a tight squeeze, it makes you feel a tiny bit better.

Mrs Jones isn't in class yet so chatter buzzes around you incessantly, your skin tingles as you feel Eddie's gaze on you a few times, try not to look up into those pretty brown eyes.

One of Jason's friends called Tyler smirks at you, he's sitting beside Jason and says loudly for all to hear. "So little miss perfect likes a freak in the sheets huh? Who would have thought?" there's a little ripple of laughter that's quelled by Chrissy's vicious glare. She's normally a sweetie so seeing her pissed shut everyone up.

Ignore him. Just ignore him you chant in your head but he still continues. "You know I was going to ask you out but fuck that. You're a dumb little bitch"

There's a collective silence as you hear Eddie's metal lunchbox drop to the floor. To your surprise he's glaring daggers at Tyler, you also notice that his knuckles are bruised. What the hell happened?

"Oooh you're in luck sweetcheeks, maybe Munson likes you back and the two of you can be freaks together"

You're fraying control over being calm snaps. Screw this. You weren't going to sit and let him run his mouth or let anyone like him or Jason make you cry again.

"You can admit to everyone you're jealous Tyler it's okay. We all heard about the little problem you have, Stacy told us all about how disappointing you are" you fake a sympathetic smile at him and his eyes nearly bug out of his sockets.

Jason looks ready to say something but you don't give the satisfaction of listening to the bullshit he says. "I couldn't be less interested in what you have to say Carver, you're a pathetic, nasty little worm"

While sassing Jason you miss the look of awe on Eddie's face. Gareth snorts at Eddie's stunned look.

"Dude, I really do think I'm in love" Eddie murmurs sounding almost reverent. Gareth sighs. Maybe now Eddie knew it was you that sent the notes the two of you could get together and he could get a minute of peace.

Meanwhile you lean back in your seat relieved as Mrs Jones comes in. There's still a question that's nagging at you though.

"Chrissy, why are Eddie's knuckles bruised?"and that's when Chrissy launches into the tale of how Eddie punched Jason after you left yesterday.

Hearing this makes a small bubble of hope build up inside of you. Maybe just maybe Eddie feeling the same for you might not be as hopeless as you first thought.

...

After a few fruitless attempts Eddie manages to track you down as you're coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy. She gives you an impish, knowing smile as she leaves you and Eddie to talk.

Telling Jason and Tyler what you thought about them made you feel a little bit better for a while, boosted your shattered confidence but now Eddie was around and you could feel that confidence crack.

What was he about to say? Was he going to tell you he was disgusted?

"You don't have to be nervous princess" you feel your nerves dissipate at his soothing tone.

"I know you thought the notes were a joke but they aren't Eddie, I've really fallen for you. I was crushing on you for such a long time. That's why I wrote the notes in the first place, I was worried if I told you in person that you would be disappointed" the words all come out in a rush and you feel relieved getting it all out.

He shakes his head. "I mean I would have been surprised but the way you spoke in the notes...how could you ever think I'd ever be disappointed sweetheart?" His words fill you with hope, a warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"You know because I'm from the dark side" you murmur and he frowns. His hand reaches out to hold yours and you wince at the bruising on his knuckles.

"You didn't need to do that Eddie, I don't want you hurt" he shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"It was worth it. You're worth it"

Eddie gently takes your hand and kisses it, "I fell in love with you through what you said sweetheart, I want to know all about you. I don't give a fuck about who you're friends with or if you're part of the dark side. I just want to be with you".

A slow smile works it's way on your face and you lean forward and kiss him, continue kissing him until you're both a little dazed and smiling goofily at each other.

"Uh maybe we could go out for Milkshakes after school, if you want princess?" you nod feeling the bubble of excitement in your belly.

After all that worrying you were going on your first date with Eddie and you couldn't wait.

Maybe happy endings were possible after all ❤️

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,505

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina

A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Tweleve

Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.

“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”

The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.

“So pretty!”

Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.

“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”

“G-Geto.”

“Thank you, Geto!”

“You’re welcome.”

That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.

Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.

You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.

That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.

Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.

So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!

You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.

“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”

Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Nanami!”

“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”

“L-Like use the word penis?”

“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”

“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”

Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.

The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.

But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.

“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”

“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.

Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!

“I-I can't do that!”

“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”

“That’s not what I me—”

“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”

With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.

That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.

Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!

A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.

“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”

“Meat stick?”

“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.

“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”

You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.

“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”

“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”

When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.

The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.

“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”

“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”

“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”

Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.

“They offered it to you for longer than that.”

“Seriously? How long are we talking?”

Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”

The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.

Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.

The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.

“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.

Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.

“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.

Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.

God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.

Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.

“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”

There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.

His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.

“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”

“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. “Said we had to celebrate.”

“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”

“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.

“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”

Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.

“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”

“Well, that’s gre—”

“For the next two years!!”

Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.

You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.

He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.

“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.

“Are you going to leave?”

“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”

“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”

Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.

“Nightmares.”

“About Riko?”

Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.

You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.

“Suguru—?”

“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.

Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.

Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.

He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.

The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.

You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.

“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”

Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.

The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.

Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.

Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.

“I think I know why she might be leaving.”

“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”

“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”

“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”

Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”

“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”

“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”

A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”

“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”

“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”

“Y-yeah, and?”

“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”

Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?

“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.

“I can teach you.”

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[sweetbans29]

Hey You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader

Summary: You and Caitlin have a history - from growing up together to dating in high school. You both decided that it would be best to end things before going to college and that's what you did. Little did you know that seeing each other nearly four years later would have you both admitting things should have been different.

Warnings: You are looking at some angst, some suggestive themes and some fluff, nothing too crazy ;) mentions of head injury

Word Count: 6.0k

Hey You PART 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hi and welcome! This is my first writing and would love any feedback or ideas! I hope you enjoy!

You were sitting in the backseat of your friend's car rubbing your hands on your jeans. Your friend Jamie was driving you and two other friends to the women's NCAA basketball game in Cleveland. All of you attended a university in Pittsburgh and thought it would be a fun girls' day to go watch the championship game. It was going to be iconic and deep down, you knew you wouldn't miss it for the world. You had been following the teams closely this year despite the squeeze to your heart that came with seeing her name. Looking out the window you continue to rub your hands on your pants.

Your friends all knew Iowa was home for you and that you played basketball growing up. They knew you had friends who ended up playing college ball but an injury you suffered junior year of high school caused you to shift gears when it came to college. They also knew that you and Caitlin Clark had played high school ball together - but that was all they knew on the subject. They didn't know you had grown up together and had been best friends since the first day of sixth grade or that she held your heart in high school and may or may not hold it today.

As you look out the window your mind begins to wander back to when you were young...

It was the first day of sixth grade and your family had just moved to Des Moines, IA for your dad's job. Starting at a new school at the start of junior high was not ideal but you were determined to make the best of it. As you entered homeroom - you took a seat next to another girl who wasn't completely dolled up due to it being the first day. You didn't say anything as you sat down and pulled out a notebook that was completely covered in NBA stickers. The girl next to you perked up when she looked over and saw several familiar faces, even some of her favorites.

She leans over and points to one of the players and says, "That is one of my favorites." I look up at her with a huge smile and reply, "He is great but not as great as Kobe." She nods in agreement and we continue talking about other players who made their spotlight on your Fivestar notebook.

Fast forward to freshman year of high school - you and Caitlin are at pre-season training. Both of you had a single goal in mind which was making varsity. You knew she would make it no problem, but for you, it was going to take a little more. The two of you put in the work, when you weren't at training you were either at a park practicing or at her house training. When you found out you both made varsity after all those hours of hard work you went out to get froyo to celebrate. The night ended with a sleepover at yours that included a movie marathon and many many snacks.

When you snap back to being present with your friends, you realize you are already at the arena. You take a deep breath and get out of the car with your friends to brave the lines to enter the stadium. It was amazing to see the attention women's college basketball has gotten during March Madness this year. The spotlight on all the teams in the Sweet Sixteen, then the Elite Eight to the Final Four all leading to today had brought a lot of attention to the sport and the players. Not only the spotlight on the teams but the spotlight put on Caitlin was something that never really surprised you as you knew how incredible she was and is. Seeing how much she had blown up made you proud of the player she had become but also rattled the box you had put her in that lived in the deepest part of your heart. As you are standing in line to get in, your mind takes you back again...

It was the summer before junior year and your mom and dad just surprised you with your own car. You freaked out and couldn't stop thanking them. Of course, it was their pleasure as you were almost the perfect child. Caitlin was already on her way over as you had plans to go out to get food before having a lazy day. The two of you always worked hard but on the other side of that, you both had major lazy days throughout your friendship. These lazy days consisted of movie marathons, pillow forts, naps, and all the snacks you could ever imagine. The beginning of these days stemmed from making plans one day but you were both so tired you ended up napping on the floor in Caitlin's living room, never seeing the light of day.

Caitlin pulls in and you come running out pointing at the car in the driveway. She jumps out of her car and you both freak out and jump right in. After grabbing food you headed back to yours and settled into the pillow fort you had set up before she got there. You throw on Princess Diaries and you both are knocked out within the first 20 minutes.

When you feel yourself come back to consciousness, you notice the only light in the room is coming from the TV screen. You also felt extremely hot. As you begin to move you feel a squeeze around your torso. Looking down, a smile appears on your face as you realize Caitlin is cuddled into your side and hugging you as if you were a teddy bear. Your arm is draped around her back as her head is nestled into your neck. Her breath is steady - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It was slightly comedic as she has a solid few inches on you but when she was curled up into your side she looked like a little girl. You slowly start to rub her back and you hear her groan and bury herself deeper into you and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

This wasn't the first time that you both had ended up cuddling next to each other on a lazy day. It had become more common over the last few months than it had been before. You noticed it was typically Caitlin who ended up cuddled into your side but every blue moon you ended up in her arms. Once one of you woke up, you would usually break apart almost immediately - secretly both wishing it would last longer. It all felt so natural that neither of you questioned it. Due to how dedicated you both were to your sport neither of you really had time for boys or relationships so you both just leaned into each other.

You continue to rub her back until you feel her fingers play with the backside of your shirt - this is your signal that she is no longer asleep. Neither of you made a move to untangle yourselves from the other and that was when you knew that the feelings you were pushing down for your best friend might be reciprocated and that alone was enough to hold her even tighter.

Later that night you took your new car and went to get ice cream. You both sat there for hours talking and laughing. That night held your first kiss with Caitlin. It was in the parking lot of your local grocery store, a pint of ice cream in the center console. It was nothing crazy but as you drove back home with her hand in your hand, neither of you could wipe the smile off of your face.

You are brought back to reality when your friend nudged you for the tickets as you were next to get them scanned. While you didn't have to worry about the drive, you were tasked with getting the tickets. Grabbing your phone, you open up your tickets for the guy to scan. As you all pass through security at Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, you make your way to your seats before braving the sea of spectators to grab yourself some food and a drink (there was no way you were getting through this whole event without a drink by your side).

The usher directed you to where your seats were and you were insanely grateful that you were the one to choose where you all sat. You choose the same section you always supported Caitlin in your senior year of high school...

It was the championship game junior year of high school and you were in the starting lineup. The game was going to be a tough one but you had no doubt in your mind that it wasn't yours for the taking. Everything was perfect. You were already talking to a couple schools to play in college. Caitlin and you had been dating for a few months and you were going to ask her to be your girlfriend your next lazy day which so happened to be tomorrow. Everything seemed it was going your way.

The seconds were counting down in the second quarter and the score was 38-38. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you were not going into halftime tied. You were passed the ball as the seconds ticked away. The other team had just scored, which gave your team possession with just enough time to make something happen. As you made your way down the court you scoped out the scene in front of you. The other team was doing everything in their power to avoid yours from scoring.

Your first vision played out was getting the ball to Caitlin, knowing she could make it happen but the girl defending her was doing a damn good job of keeping her just out of reach. You then scanned to my other teammate Jada who you knew was great at getting the ball where it needed to go in the nick of time. As you were about to pass it her way you took one final look at the clock and realized that time was just about out. You made the decision to take it up the middle, faking the defender that was covering you and going for a quick layup on the left side. As your last foot left the ground, before you knew it you were back against the ground with a pulsing head and pain shooting everywhere.

You don't dare move, you have no idea what just happened. There is a ringing in both of your ears and your vision is blurry and the pain - the pain has your body shutting down to protect itself. Your eyes start to close slowly as you faintly feel someone grab your arm as someone appears in your sight. It takes you a second to realize it is Caitlin - you give a small smile. Then everything goes black.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That is the first thing you hear as you start to regain consciousness. Confusion hits almost immediately as the last thing you remember is getting ready to play the championship game. You begin to wiggle your fingers and they feel sore, now that you start to feel more - everything is sore.

Before you decide to open your eyes you try to take a deep breath. Yet another thing that is painful to do. You decide you need to open your eyes to figure out where you are and what has happened. As your eyes open, it takes a few blinks to get a clear picture of what is in front of you. You are in the hospital, in a hospital bed. The sun is shining in through the window and you start to look around to see if you can find any clues as to what has happened. There are no casts or bandages that you can see but when you make a minor move in the bed it felt like you got hit by a truck.

Your mom was in the room reading a book. When you began to move, you let out a groan which caused her to look up and quickly make her way to your side. As she gets to your bedside, your dad makes his way through the doorway.

"Baby girl, oh baby girl," your mom begins as she gives you a hug which really only causes more pain to shoot around your body but you weren't going to push her away. Your dad comes and sits on your other side and takes hold of your hand.

"Hi sweetie," your dad says. You look up at him and with your eyes try and get him to explain what had happened, knowing your mom wasn't in a state to do so.

"You were taken out seconds before the halftime buzzer went off," he began. Your eyes lay intently on him. He takes a moment before continuing. "You were going for a layup to put your team ahead going into halftime and a girl from the other team misjudged your movement and body slammed you causing you to go head-first into the ground."

It then all started coming back to you, the pain that shot straight to your head and trying to not pass out. You let go of his hand and start to feel around your head. It had a wrap around it which you didn't even think about when you were making your first assessment of what had happened. Your dad continued.

"You were rushed to the hospital due to your ears bleeding and you not waking up. The doctors determined you had a skull fracture and took you to an emergency surgery. Everything went smoothly and you are recovering well," your father says with sad eyes. If there is anything you know about your dad it is that he shares your dream of going to a D1 school to play basketball in college. The way he was looking at you right now, you immediately knew that even though the surgery went well, everything you had hoped and dreamed about was all about to change.

You continued to listen to how your parents were so happy you were alive and okay and that you should make a full recovery - even though you knew deep down that it truly wouldn't be full. You had learned that it has been almost 2 days since the game. Your parents step out of the room to give you some time to rest - even though you couldn't look at a screen that just left you sitting there with life-changing news. You looked around to see if you could find your phone to text or call Caitlin when she made her way through the door.

She looks just as beat up as you feel. As she walks up to you, she avoids eye contact which you so desperately wanted. Without saying a word, she comes up to your bedside and slowly makes her way into the hospital bed with you. You lift your arm and allow her to curl up by your side. A deep breath finally escapes your body and as you exhale you can feel her body release silent sobs.

All you can do is rub her back. Lying there with her has jogged your memory that she was the last face you saw before you blacked out on the court. Knowing her, these past two days were probably a living hell. You muster up all the strength you have to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

Not many people knew about your relationship. It was really only family and your coaches. Being on the same team, you both decided it would be best to keep your relationship between the two of you. It was a challenge at times but everyone knew the two of you were best friends so there were a lot of things that you did that people wouldn't look twice at.

One thing about Caitlin was that certain things were enhanced when you two started dating. Most of the things didn't affect your day-to-day like the amount of sweatshirts she stole doubled (which didn't bother you as you would just steal hers to replace the ones she had taken, it got to the point where it started a playful argument over a sweatshirt that she swore was here but was actually originally yours). Another that affected her more than either of us really realized was how protective she had become.

You first realized this when you got fouled at practice and Caitlin got all up into her space yelling at her. You had to grab her and pull her away which then led your coach to call for everyone to do suicide sprints. You don't even want to think about the girl who fouled you in the game and caused you to be hospitalized.

"Hey you," you say as it had sort of become your way of saying 'hey babe' without the world knowing. You feel her shift in your arms as she brings her hand up to wipe away her tears.

"You scared me," is all she says before letting out a few more silent sobs. You continue to rub her back and give her shoulder a little squeeze.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," you respond with a laugh. The laugh hurts but decide to keep quite about your pain, only quiet to Caitlin, never your doctors.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled up on the hospital bed. When the sun starts to go down you tell Caitlin she should head home to get some rest. She protests, of course, but ultimately folds to your request. She comes over and gives you a quick peck which leaves you unsatisfied. You grab her hand and pull her back to give her a proper kiss. As your lips part you mumble a breathy 'I love you'. It was the first time it had been said between the two of you in a manner that wasn't referring to your friendship. The smile that spread across her face lifted your soul.

"I love you," she replies as she leans down pressing her lips against yours. "Well not I REALLY don't want to go," she says with a laugh.

"One night won't hurt anyone - also you need a shower," you say making a face to try and sell the fact that you just called your girlfriend smelly. She scoffs and waves you off.

Following getting out of the hospital, it was a hard reality to face that you weren't going to be able to play ball for a long while. The journey ahead was a long one and you couldn't be more thankful that Caitlin was right by your side.

Two of your friends were coming back with beers when you snapped back to where you were. It was just about time for the athletes to come out and begin their warm-ups. Your heart began to race as you heard the announcer call the teams out.

As both teams make their way onto the floor, your eyes scan for her. As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help yourself. It took about a whole 5 seconds to find her. Your heart stops and it feels like time slows as you see her running out and making her way to warm up. The first thing you notice is how even after four years, she starts warming up from the same spot. She is on the opposite side of the court facing where you are sitting getting ready to start her pregame ritual. You then notice, how her upper body has filled out a little more as she has matured and increased her strength training. Her hair is in a neatly pulled-back pony with a headband to catch her flyaways. She was as cool as a cucumber.

There were so many things that amazed you about Caitlin but one of the biggest ones was how calm she was before a game. Especially a game like today.

She was completely mesmerizing. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that she was living her dream. You watched her as she continued to warm up and couldn't wait to cheer her on.

The seats you had chosen were right across from Iowa's bench. every game you watched your senior year of high school was from this exact location.

As the warm-ups come to an end and they are just about to announce the starting lineup, your heartbeat begins to quicken...

Going into senior year, your relationship with Caitlin was better than ever. It was a tough journey to come to face the fact that you weren't going to play ball your senior year but you put all that extra energy into loving and supporting Caitlin. You still went to practice and your coach sort of brought you on as an assistant coach. It was great still being a part of the team.

You decided to play the role of the supportive girlfriend during games rather than sitting on the bench with the other players and coaches. It wasn't that you couldn't sit on the bench, rather it came from knowing how competitive Caitlin gets. She didn't need another person telling her how things could have been different or better, she needed someone who was going to cheer her on no matter what and get her out of her head when she got tunnel vision. She was the hardest person on herself.

Before every game when they called her name in the lineup as starting point guard and she made her way down the line of girls she got to the end and pointed to you with a smile. Then at the end of every game, you would wait down the hall of the girls' locker room and greet her when the team got out of their post-game meeting. It became your guys' things.

You weren't expecting it. It didn't even occur to you but when they announce her name and she makes her way down the court and at the end of the line she points directly in your direction and smiles. Your heart stops and she stops in her tracks, her smile dropping immediately. She does a double-take and just stares at you for a second. A small smile starts to creep onto your face and her eyes are on yours. You give her a little nod and she finally breaks away shaking her head with a smile growing on her face. She joins her team for their first huddle of the game.

Your heart feels like it is beating out of its chest. You had imagined it a thousand times since your friends mentioned wanting to go to the championship game. It was the reason you chose these seats. Even in all of the fantasizing about seeing her - you didn't imagine it to actually happen. There were thousands of people in this arena and her eyes found yours.

As the team is in their huddle, she stands up and looks back over at you. A smile now playing on her lips in full view as she can't stop glancing over to the familiar spot.

You want to go down to her and tell her to focus on her coach. Her head needs to be in this game and not turning to look up at you. Although the frequency of her looks brings butterflies to your stomach with every glance.

Once they break, the game begins and you can see Caitlin lock into the game. You cheer with all the other fans as the final game of her college career is underway.

The game is a complete nail-biter. There were times when Caitlin absolutely was killing the game, shooting her signature threes and playmaking. At other times, she let the ball slip and you knew that she would hold onto that but never let anyone see how much it truly affected her. She was really good at shaking off her mistakes in the eyes of others but you knew her too well.

As the game begins to come to an end and you can see the victory slip away from Iowa, your eyes focus on your girl. She is staying composed but you know she is feeling it. In the final minute of the game, Caitlin makes her way to the bench, hugging each one of her coaches then takes a seat with a blank stare.

Your eyes try to stay away from her but she naturally draws your attention. In the final seconds of the game, as South Carolina begins to celebrate Caitlin's eyes make their way to yours. You only hold them for a second but that was all you needed to know she was hurting.

The game ends and you see the team head into the locker rooms. Your friends decide to head to the floor to see if they can talk to any of the players (more like the player's brothers), You use this time to sneak away and try to find the Iowa locker room. You know there is no way they would let you in but you start sweet-talking the security guard. In less than 2 minutes, you were pacing in the same spot you would always wait for Caitlin after a game. As you wait for her, your nerves pick up as your mind continues to take you down memory lane...

You and Caitlin had just graduated high school and you were celebrating in your favorite fashion, with her curled up in your side. The plans the two of you had for the summer were laid out on the floor next to you. It was going to be the best summer and indeed it was until it wasn't.

It was a few days before Caitlin needed to head off for off-season training at the University of Iowa. You were hanging out at her house in her gym. You both had been avoiding the elephant in the room.

It was a conversation you both knew you needed but didn't want to have. You knew that Caitlin's only commitment was to play D1 ball which was once your dream too. You also know to do that, she couldn't have anything holding her back.

The two of you finish some conditioning which leaves you both panting and sitting on the floor.

"As much as I love you, I hate doing cardio," you say in between breaths.

"Ya well, my favorite form of cardio involves a lot less running and a lot more of you..." she says with a smile. "Caitlin!" You gasp and push her over as she bursts out laughing.

You let out a few laughs yourself but then hear her quiet down. Looking over at her, you see her whole mood shifts. She comes in and hugs your torso, burying her face in you. You scoot closer to hold her, knowing what is about to come next. It feels like hours pass before you decide to speak.

"Caitlin, you know I love you. And I want the world for you. You are and will always be my best friend," you say rubbing her back. She squeezes you even more. "We both know where your head needs to be when you head to training. You will always be my person but in this next season you need to be your teams' person."

Silence fills the space again. Your eyes begin to fill with tears and you swallow the sobs that taunt your lips. Then she finally speaks.

"You are my person," she says just above a whisper, you almost miss it.

"This doesn't mean I will stop being your person. Like I said, I will always be your person. We both knew this was coming and we have done a really good job of putting it off," you try to lighten the mood. She doesn't budge.

She lets go of you and sits up. You wipe away her tears. They just keep falling.

"I just don't like the idea of losing you," she says as she starts playing with a piece of your hair. "You aren't losing me, babe," you reply but both of you knew that wasn't true.

"This was always the plan," you start. "And I will always be cheering you on," you say with the best smile you could muster. No matter how much it would hurt you would support her until your last breath.

"So that means you will be at the championship game when I take Iowa to the NCAA championship?" her question lightening the mood.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," you say as you give her one last kiss.

You are pulled back to reality when you hear some of the players head out. Caitlin was typically the last one out of the lockers and with the way you knew she was feeling it was going to be a minute.

It is about another 15 minutes of you pacing in the hallway for the door to open again. Your head whips around to see her coming out. She looks completely defeated. She would never show this side of her to the press.

As you turn to face her, she looks up. You say the only thing that felt right.

"Hey, you."

She immediately makes her way to you. Your arms wrap around her as her head buries its way into your neck. Despite her being taller, Caitlin loved to be held as if she was the shorter one. Your heels were definitely helping.

"I really wanted that," she mumbles into you after a few moments. You rub her back like you always used to. "I know...I know."

"Your legacy is so much more than that one game and I am so beyond proud of everything you have accomplished," you begin. "And with that, I know this was one of your dreams." Caitlin stays quiet and sinks into being held by you.

The two of you finally break apart, her hand doesn't leave your arm and you can't complain. You missed her touch so much. You missed her. She keeps rubbing your arm and you feel like you will melt.

"I have to head into a press meeting, but can we catch up later? Are you staying in town?" Caitlin asks.

"I came into town with some friends, we are staying at a hotel a few blocks away. Call me when you are done with press?" You reply hopeful.

"I'll call you the second I am out," she ways with a smile. Oh how you missed that smile.

You head back to the hotel you are staying at to change into something a little more casual. Your friends checked in and told you they were going out to a bar and wanted you to meet up with them. You let them know you were catching up with an old friend and that they shouldn't wait up for you. You get ready to meet up with Caitlin - changing your shirt and shoes into something more comfortable, keeping the jeans you wore to the game. Right after you finish changing your phone begins to ring.

"Hey you," you answer as you begin to gather a few things in your purse.

"Hey babe," Caitlin responds causing your cheeks to blush and your stomach to fly. A smile is plastered on your face. "I am out of press and am going to head to my hotel, would you be up for meeting me there?"

"Of course, just shoot over the address and I will head that way," you say as your phone pings. She was already sending it as you asked.

"I will see you in a few," she says before you both hang up.

You make your way to her hotel which is surprisingly only a 10-minute walk. You follow her directions on how to get up to her room and knock on the door. The nerves begin to build up and you feel like you are back in high school. Your hands make their way to rub against your jeans, a familiar place for them today.

Caitlin opens the door with a huge smile on her face as she moves away to let you in. "I thought it would be better to meet here, a little more privacy," she says as she closes the door.

The two of you spend the next 4 hours catching up on life and how college has been. She talks about all the records she has broken and how she can finally start looking at what comes after college ball. She talks about her family and how much they miss you. You follow her by also mentioning how your parents are so proud of her and miss her as well. You continue by talking about how you are going full-time with the company you are working for post-graduation. You talk about all the traveling you have been able to do and she gets to pitch in with the travels that she has done. It was like no time as passed, I mean above all you were best friends.

As the conversation begins to die down you realize how close the two of you became. You are sitting on a couch with your legs hanging over her lap and her hands on your knee.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes and take in the moment. You feel her hand begin to make its way to your thigh.

"Seeing you in the crowd today was something else," Caitlin begins. You cut her off, "Well I made a promise once to be there if a certain someone that if they made it to the championship, I would be there."

"If???" Caitlin yells with a fake offended tone and slaps your knee. You let out a little yelp, "Okay, okay, when." Your eyes roll as she starts to draw patterns on your leg.

After another long pause, Caitlin speaks again.

"I think we made a mistake," she says not daring to look you in the eye.

If you were going to be honest, you never wanted to end things when you went to college but you weren't going to make things harder than they had to be. Long distance wouldn't have worked for the two of you. You would have managed but with her schedule and yours, it would have done more damage than good. So you didn't fight her but there were numerous times that you wish would would have fought for her on ending things.

"I think I made a mistake," she continues as she finally looks up at you. You take her hands in yours and reply, "It was the right decision at the time. We didn't know better, we were young."

You continue. "But that was then and here we are now," touching her arm and giving it a little squeeze. After seeing her and how she has filled out, you have been waiting to get your hands on her arms. "And we are both about to graduate and my plan was to come back to Iowa..."

"There is no one like you," she says as she leans closer to you. You let out a little laugh.

"No Caitlin, there is no one like you," you say as your hand comes up to cup her face. You both smile as your lips meet. It is like no time has passed, her lips are still so familiar.

After a few more kisses, you both moved to the bed. She curled up into your side and your arms made their around her. You are her home and she is yours.

"I love you," you whispered as you kissed her head.

"And I love you," she responds as you both drift to sleep, more at peace than either of you have felt over the past four years.

AN: TADA! Let me know your thoughts! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

Now go check out PART 2!

[calmcoldevening]

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

[star1ight0]

Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada x PLATONIC KID!!

I crave comfort so here

Tw : Ed /sh

Not many people were aware of your relationship with your homeroom teacher and English teacher known as Mr. Aizawa and his loud husband Mic but they were your dad's. In the beginning of the year they both made it clear no special treatment would be given and you appreciated it a lot.

This also came with its ups and downs trying to fight the urge to hug you dad in front of class after villain attacks ect, as much as they'd both fight it they also struggled to accessively check on you when you all moved to dorms.

Having grown up always close to him after they adopted you from a abusive home. had its drags on you all You weren't entirely sure when this overwhelming feeling of despair started but it felt so shitty, you had no reason to feel this way you had a good life. Loving dads, a nice school and a few friends you hold dear to you. It was so long ago why was this still bothering you.

You remembered a conversation you had with your dad, Mic recalling how Aizawa was struggling with mental health and how it wasn't an effect of things around him but rather his brain chemistry. You looked at your phone debating on calling your family group chat to ask them for help but managed to talk yourself out of it resorting to crying on your closet floor.

After a few minutes of crying you managed to pull yourself together grabbing some clothes and deciding this was all in your head and you had no reason to feel so shitty. Heading out your room you feel a tap on your shoulder "it's past curfew kid" you turn around to see you father Hizashi looking around you you look back at him eyes still puffy "Sorry dad, just needed a shower" you say attempting to walk away when you feel a hand in you wrist "were you crying little listener?" You flinch at the childhood nickname your dad had given you "No, sorry just tired" you say pulling away "either your high or you were crying which one is it kid" He says pointing to your eyes "its nothing dad please just let me shower"

You pull away walking away leaving your dad in the hall alone. You took a long shower, trying to scrub off the memories of your past home. You get out the shower and go back to your dorm laying down on the floor ignoring the fact your bed was no more than 3 feet away. You look at your phone to see Aizawa texted you

You okay kiddo?

Yeah sorry for worrying y'all just a bad day

Are you sure

Yeah

If you say so, me and Hizashi are here if you need us. Now go to bed it's late

The conversation was short and to the point but you still felt the need to want to call him and tell him these awful feelings you were having.

A few days passed when you got an email from an all too familiar name, it was your biological mom. The very same woman who had given you physical and mental problems along with nonstop nightmares for 2 years. You had changed everything phone number, social media accounts anything that she could you to find you. Yet her name is in your inbox with a paragraph calling you names and threatening you. Everything felt so out of control like nothing you did to get away from her was enough. But she knew now, she knew what school you went to. 1-A had been on TV after all, you should have known it was only a matter of time. You looked at your phone blankly feeling your body shake and tears fall from your face. You reached for your pocket knife making a cut on your thigh it felt good like you finally had control over how you felt like you had control over something when everything around you was so chaotic. This was bad you knew that but it felt too good to want to care.

Overtime the threatening emails from your mother piled up only feeding the fear she'd find you and harm you, in turn causing more scars to be formed on your legs. You dads had quickly talked notice to you change in dimanar and talked it over amongst themselves and tried to reach out to you but it was all brushed off as a bad week or a bad day.

This began to escalate more than your lack of interest in food came about you seemed so tired too tired to even eat. This is where they drew the line. No kid of theirs would be passing out in training. They just couldn't figure out how to talk to you about this without you shutting down and shutting them out.

Monday morning training came about and you felt exhausted like your whole body was about to give out. This was only further proven when you passed out before training with Todoroki without him even activating either of his quirks. Both Hizashi and Aizawa rushed to your side as another student ran to get recovery girl. You woke up in the nurses office with both your dad's next to you looking worried out their minds.

"Recovery girl said you'd be fine.. as long as you ate and drank probably." There was a silence filled with worry and a bit of anger

"I'm sorry dad-" you were cut off by Hizashi hugging you, "please don't scare me like that kid" he said holding you as if you were gonna disappear. "Talk to us if you need to kiddo. You know we'll listen. "

You hugged him back going back to your dorm early as you were excused from all classes for the day, sitting on your floor you checked your phone to see another email this time from your biological father. Your mom texting you was one thing you knew in some way she didn't have the gut to actually hurt you but your dad, he'd hunt you down and kill you, metaphorically and literally. You felt a wave of fear washing over you and you sobbed standing up hands on your head pacing around your room crying and shaking. You reach for your knife once more sliding down the wall making a cut in an almost fully healed scar feeling that feeling of control comes back. You made a few more before stopping, taking a deep breath grabbing your first aid kit sitting in the same spot on the floor. Yeah, you felt stupid but not stupid enough to not clean this kind of thing. As you were cleaning up you heard a knock at your door

"Kid? It's us can we talk?"

Aizawa says still waiting at the door "Y-yeah give me a minute please!!" You shout rushing to put the first aid kit away and some sweatpants and throw your knife under the bed you wipe your face, and open the door

"Kid are you okay you look a little.. worse than earlier "

"yeah I'm fine just not in a great mood," you said looking at your phone placed in the far end of the bed. They both came Into your room sat on your bed and attempted to talk to you about what had been bothering you. The conversation went in circles before you placed your head in Aizawa's lap. Your dad Hizashi, was standing at the foot of your bed about to leave when he was stopped by a blood stain on the floor.

"Shouta, I think we should stay till she wakes up"

"hm. I mean I'm not against it but why ?"

He points at the blood spot on the floor and Shoutas eyes widen.

"they are knocked out right now so can you look for whatever is being used ?"

He nods looking around your room eyes landing on a pocked knife shining under your bed.

"here, I'll put it in our room," he says showing Shouta before closing it and placing it in his pocket, as he was above to leave he stopped by the light of your phone along with a name he recognized followed by a scowl.

"Shouta I'm gonna check their phone for something"

He gives Hizashi a confused look but unable to move because of your sleeping form he allows him to do so, you trusted them enough to let them know your passwords but they had never not trusted you enough to go through your phone. He opens the email, reading it and seeing ll the others. He made a face of pure disgust and walked toward Shouta showing him the inbox along with one of the emails it had.

Both had decided to stay in your room till morning, planning to talk to you about this night of unfortunate events. But this was cut short by the feeling of you hyperventilating in Shoutas lap. Hizashi gently shakes him awake and they both attempt to comfort you ultimately failing as you wake you shaking tears forming in your eyes. An all too familiar scene for your dad's to witness.

"it's okay kid, your okay" Hizashi whispered patting your head as Aizawa rubbed your shoulder.

"sorry i-"

"No apologies. We know everything so there's no need to hide anything from us anymore"

Shouta says looking up at his husband

"you could have really hurt yourself kid"

"i know I just - "You were cut off by a knot in your throat as you scrambled to find the words "Everything feels so out of control and I can control this you know?" Shouta nodded in agreement.

"Why did you come to us kiddo?

"i- I didn't want you to worry you. You guys had enough going on.."

You said your voice is still shaking between sobs.

"you'd never be a bother to us. It's our job as you parents to check on you and worry for you"

You all had a long talk about possible coping strategies and ways to communicate if you wanted to talk about something without feeling bothersome. A few relapses were bound to happen and they both knew this but did everything they could to ensure it didn't. Even if it meant letting the whole class know you were their kid so you could go in the teacher's wing of the dorms. You began slowly getting better with setbacks here and there, but by setting up a new email and talking more about what your depression episodes felt like, both your dads were able to help you through it

Yes it's messy I wrote 75% of this in one go and the other half after my shower. And it's like 12:58am

Requests are open but slow

Please reach out if you need to to!!