#i hit that guy with the stranger things beam

[powderrblue]

i was feeling good today so i drew the loser

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[donatellawritings]

you should totally do boxer!rafe with shy!reader.

love you stinka 😘

love you more <3

you were as shy as they came, your palms hummed with nerves as they glazed over with clammy sweat, eye contact made your tummy swirl with anxious butterflies, and your chewed on your bottom lip or the smooth gummy inside of your cheeks, more often than not. so, it was pretty routine for people’s eyes to widen in obnoxious shock when you decided to take up being a ring girl — it was fast money that paid your bills and would get you through finishing college. although, you weren’t all too familiar with the sport of boxing, you figured that at least the cute outfits, no matter how skimpy they were, and the caked on makeup and bombshell hair could help you get out of your introverted shell.

you couldn’t help but blush, each time you strutted your tight little ass into the ring, your perked up ears not missing the inappropriate hoots and whistles that came your way. your plump lips swelled into a beaming smile as made your way around the ring, you tiny hot pants wedged between your soft ass cheeks and swollen tits pushed up in your skintight crop top, your pedicured feet slightly aching in your elongating shiny black pumps. before returning back to your ringside seat, your doe eyes flickered over to rafe cameron, the up and coming boxer from kildare island who seemed to have each and every girl wrapped around his bruised fingers.

you licked over your swollen lips as he sent you a wink, the blood that dripped from his gashed eye rolling down his structured cheekbone as he smirked at you. you couldn’t ignore the subtle ache that pulsed between your oiled and shiny thighs as he flexed his broad shoulders, before sinking his sharp teeth down into his dark red mouth guard.

“damn girl, y’look good!” a spectator whistled, breaking you from your trance as you exited the ring, prancing over to your cushioned folding chair, flipping your shiny tousled hair over your shoulder.

boxing had never been your thing, but you had to admit that there was payoff when it came to the eye candy you were subjected to watch, day in and day out. however, there was an unspoken rule that came with your job: do not date any of the fighters — it would make things muddy and far too complicated. i mean, what good could come from adrenaline-filled men who fucked as many girls as they won championships?

so, you took rafe’s lustful gaze with a grain of salt — you wouldn’t subject yourself from having to deal with the inevitable heartbreak that would come from having intimate dealings with a man, like rafe cameron.

pulling up the hem of your uncomfortably clingy top, you let out a small huff and you mushed your sticky, gloss-coated lips together. you loved your job, it gave you an escape, an in to be the girl who wasn’t pathetically timid and shy, to the point where you were flustered when holding even the most basic of conversations. yet, you still found yourself a bit secluded from your coworkers, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to make friends — your coy nature and sheltered upbringing just made it that much harder for you.

taking a small breath, your swollen tits expanded against the fabric of your top as you took in the sound of rafe’s gloved fists cracking into the face of his pathetic opponent. you quickly got lost in the roaring crowd as rafe sent a blood-curdling punch across his weakened counterpart’s jaw, sending the ill-fated man to the floor as rafe cockily flexed his muscles, sticking out his blood-coated tongue as his bright pink lips stretched into a cocky grin.

𝜗ৎ

rafe loved the spotlight, he craved it — to hear people scream and clamor for him was such an aphrodisiac for him. you see, he was no stranger to being fawned over, he’d developed quite the reputation for being a hit-it-and-quit-it type of guy, a one-time lover that you could never seem to forget, or want to forget. but, he too, had his demons. rafe was hopelessly tethered to violence — it was the only fix that truly allowed him to express himself, in a way that thoroughly satisfied him and curbed his anger. i mean, shit, the young man fought so much, he figured he’d might as well get paid for it, not that he needed it, being the heir to his father’s hefty trust fund.

now dressed in light fresh sweats that loosely hung off of his hips, rafe watched with hooded eyes as the ring girls made their way through the dimmed halls — he’d fucked majority, if not, all of the girls, but you, you were new and fresh as a daisy— this was only your second fight. he could smell how nervous you were, a little shaky thing, but oh so fuckin’ pretty.

you just needed a little … conditioning. but, that was okay, rafe could help with that, no problem.

“hiii, rafe,” the cluster of girls sang, each of their enhanced lips spreading into ditzy smiles as rafe entered their line of vision. licking over his lips, rafe nodded in return, before flicking his fingers towards one of the girls.

leaning his head down, rafe sighs with feigned interest in the bottle blonde who stood cheerily before him, “y’wanna help me out, doll?” rafe smiled, watching as the blonde furiously nodded, before he could finish his sentence, “y’so sweet — uh, tell me, where’s that pretty spanish girl who works with you, huh? the real quiet one?” he questions softly, his eyes low as the blonde swallows down her jealousy, before taking a quick breath. rafe could smell the envy that loomed over the blonde — she was a quick fuck from about three months ago, who just couldn’t seem to take the hint.

“um, sh-she shouldn’t be that far behind — is there anything else i can do for you?” the girl answers swiftly, her bright eyes wide with hope as rafe’s eyes fall on you.

softly nudging the blonde’s chin, rafe maintains his million-dollar smile, “nah, thank you though, sweetheart,” rafe declines, his bruised and sprained knuckles stretching against his skin as he makes his way over to you.

a pretty little thing, like you, should never walk with her head down.

breathing out a sharp whistle, rafe can’t help but breathe out a laugh as you flinch, your doe eyes wide as you finally make direct eye contact with the tall man. you were way shorter than him, and he couldn’t help but steal a shameless glance at your deliciously pushed-up tits. rafe’s strained blue eyes didn’t miss the way your wiped the palms of your hands against the skimpy fabric of your tiny black shorts.

“y’don’t need to be scared of me, princess — just wanna properly introduce myself, yeah?” rafe coos, cocking his head to the side with parted lips as your throat bobs with a light swallow, before your dolled-up hair bounces with a subtle nod. “ah, gonna have to break you out of that little shell of yours, yeah?” he comments, gently nudging your chin as your swollen lips part with blushed cheeks.

with a low and mousey tone, you allow your name to roll off of the tongue, your eager bambi eyes set on rafe’s bloodshot blues, “i just, i am not used to putting myself out there,” you force out a laugh, your skin-hugging attire suddenly becoming too tight for your comfort as you find yourself fiddling with the hem of your ridiculously cropped top.

with a tilted head, rafe drinks in every part of you. from your introverted nature and nervous quirks, to the slight sing of an accent that coats your every word.

he couldn’t ignore the way his blood rushed to his cock as you crumbled under his unwavering eye contact, you were new territory for him and he needed to experience you in your entirety.

leaning in a bit closer to you, rafe allows his soft lips to ghost over yours, “want you to stick with me, princess — gonna have to show you how the world works,” he decides, lightly nudging your jaw, before pulling away from you and making his way back to his locker room.

you were left a blushing and slightly embarrassed mess as you found yourself mindlessly following rafe’s path — each and every one of your inhibitions dissipating with each step you pump-clad feet took.

little did you know just how underprepared you were for rafe cameron’s world.

[theonottsbxtch]

SILVER SPOONS | OP81

an: you guys were silly if you thought i was going to come back without absolute heartbreakers, ENJOY!!

warnings: mentions of abusive households and trauma

wc: 5.2k

SHE HADN'T WANTED TO COME, she'd spent a week nauseous over this exact moment.

As they pulled up outside his parents’ house, the sickness rose in her throat again. It had been there all week, curling in her stomach like something rotten. Not the kind of illness that could be cured with rest or medicine, but the kind that came from fear—deep, gnawing, inescapable.

Oscar had called it nerves, laughing softly as he ran a hand down her back, telling her she had nothing to worry about. They’ll love you, he had said, like love was something simple. Like it was something freely given, instead of something to be earned through silence, obedience, and unshakable faith.

She knew better.

The house in front of them was big—bigger than any she had ever lived in. Back in England, her family’s flat had been small, cluttered with rosaries and relics, the air thick with the weight of things left unsaid. But this house was open, warm, glowing from the inside out. It belonged to the kind of family that hosted Sunday dinners and kept spare toothbrushes for guests. The kind that never had to whisper prayers for protection before stepping through the front door.

Oscar glanced at her, his fingers brushing hers in the dim light of the car. “You ready?”

No.

But she nodded anyway.

As they walked up the path, she took in the garden—freshly cut grass, flowers that weren’t dead in their pots. The porch light had been left on for them. A simple thing, yet something she had never known.

From inside, she heard laughter, the clinking of cutlery, the kind of easy conversation that came with love and safety. The kind that had never existed in her own childhood. Her family never ate together. Meals were taken in separate rooms, when they were had at all. Silence had been preferable to conversation, because conversation led to trouble. To words thrown like knives, to voices raised in God’s name, to her mother clutching the crucifix around her neck like it might stop the bruises from forming.

Oscar knocked once before pushing the door open.

She stiffened.

He didn’t wait to be let in.

Of course he didn’t.

This was his home.

And she was a visitor.

The warmth hit her first. A thick, welcoming kind of warmth that wrapped around her like a too-heavy coat. The air smelled of something rich—red wine, slow-cooked meat, garlic melting into butter. It was the kind of meal that took hours to prepare, the kind that was made with care.

She had never known meals like that.

Oscar slipped his hand into hers as they stepped inside, his thumb tracing over her knuckles absentmindedly. The house was alive with people—his parents, his grandmother, his younger sister curled up on the arm of a sofa, laughing at something on her phone. Coats hung on hooks by the door, a pair of scuffed trainers kicked off haphazardly in the hallway. Signs of a life well-lived.

“This is her?” His mother’s voice was warm, expectant, like she had been waiting to meet her. She moved forward with open arms, and before she could think, she was being wrapped in an embrace that smelled of expensive perfume and fresh laundry.

She stood stiff in the woman’s arms, unsure of what to do. She had never been held like this by a stranger—by anyone, really.

The moment passed too quickly for Oscar’s mother to notice, but Oscar did. His hand squeezed hers lightly as his mother pulled back, beaming.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” she said, ushering them inside. “Come in, you must be starving.”

She wasn’t. The sickness still hadn’t left her.

The dining table was set—real napkins, wine glasses, silverware that gleamed under the light. A centrepiece of fresh flowers, as if this was something they did every night. Maybe it was.

She hesitated at the threshold of the dining room, her fingers tightening around Oscar’s. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She had never been taught how to sit at a table like this. At home, dinner had been something to endure, not to share. She had learned to eat quickly, quietly, keeping her head down to avoid giving anyone a reason to speak to her.

“You okay?” Oscar murmured.

She nodded, even though it wasn’t true.

They sat, and conversation flowed like wine—easy, effortless. His father asked about work, his sister talked about university. His mother recounted some story from earlier in the week, one that made them all laugh. Even Oscar joined in, his smile wide, his voice relaxed.

She tried to focus, but all she could do was watch. Watch how easily they fit together. Watch how love passed between them in small, invisible ways—a hand on a shoulder, a knowing glance, laughter that came without fear.

She had never known love like this.

“Do you want some more?” Oscar’s mother asked, motioning to the roast potatoes.

She blinked, realising too late that she hadn’t eaten much at all. She opened her mouth to say yes, to be polite, but the words caught in her throat.

She was full. Not on food, but on resentment.

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

Oscar’s mother smiled and went back to her plate, but Oscar’s hand found her knee under the table, a silent question.

She forced a smile and looked away.

He had grown up being asked how his day was. He had been fed love with silver spoons and butter knives.

She had learned to fend for herself.

And now, in the golden glow of his childhood home, she felt it all creeping in—everything she had missed out on, everything she could never undo.

She stared down at the plate in front of her, suddenly sick with the realisation that no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much he loved her—

She would always be a visitor in his world.

She’d been confused when Oscar had first asked for her number that night at the end of her shift.

It had been late, the pub nearly empty, just the sound of cutlery clinking in the kitchen and the hum of the air conditioning overhead. She had been tired, her apron smelling of spilled wine and pints, her feet aching in shoes that had worn too thin. He had been sitting at the bar, suit crisp, hair neatly combed back, a loosened tie the only sign he’d been there for hours.

She had seen men like him before—men with easy smiles, with soft hands that had never scrubbed dishes or counted coins to see if they could afford the bus home. Men who walked into rooms like they belonged there.

When he’d slid his card across the bar with a tip too generous, she had assumed that was the end of it.

But then he had asked.

Can I have your number?

She had hesitated, scanning him for some kind of joke, some cruelty she didn’t yet understand. But his eyes had been steady, his smile real.

She had said yes, not because she thought anything would come of it, but because it had been a long time since anyone had asked.

And now here she was, sitting at his childhood dining table, surrounded by the life he had been raised in. A life so different from hers it made her chest ache.

She loved him. At least, with what she knew of love.

She loved the way he spoke to her, soft and patient, never raising his voice. She loved how he never asked questions he knew she wouldn’t want to answer. She loved the way he held her—firm, like he had never been taught to fear touch.

She loved him in the way a starving thing loves scraps, in the way something abandoned loves anything that stays.

But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

His family was still talking, the conversation flowing around her, touching everything but never quite reaching her.

She had spent so long watching from the outside—at school, at church, at friends’ houses she never returned to. She had spent years pretending she didn’t care. But tonight, the contrast was unbearable.

Today, it was clearer than day.

They were from different worlds.

And she wasn’t sure if love was enough to bridge the space between them.

Oscar’s mother fawned over her all evening.

She wasn’t used to it.

It started small—tiny acts of kindness she wasn’t sure how to accept. A warm hand on her shoulder, the way his mother leaned in when she spoke, as if every word she said was worth listening to. The way she kept offering her things—more food, more wine, more comfort—until she felt like she might suffocate under the weight of it all.

She didn’t know how to cope with kindness when it wasn’t laced with expectation. In her childhood home, affection was conditional, doled out in quiet moments when the house was still and the anger had drained from her father’s body. Here, kindness came easy, unearned. She had no idea what to do with it.

When she spilled a bit of wine on the tablecloth, her body tensed instinctively, breath caught in her throat as she waited for the sharp reprimand that would never come. But Oscar’s mother only laughed, waving it off like it was nothing. “Happens all the time, love. Don’t worry.”

Love.

The word knocked against her ribs.

After dinner, she had barely gotten two feet into the kitchen with her plate before Oscar’s mother gently took it from her hands. “You’re a guest, sweetheart, sit down.”

Sweetheart.

She nodded, muttered a quiet thank you, and sat stiffly on the sofa while the others moved around the kitchen, washing dishes, refilling wine glasses, laughing like this was just another ordinary night.

For them, it was.

For her, it felt like slipping into a life that wasn’t hers to claim.

By the time they finally left, her skin felt too tight. Oscar said his goodbyes easily, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek, promising to visit again before they flew back to London. She lingered in the doorway, unsure if she was meant to hug his mother, shake her hand, or simply disappear.

She didn’t have to decide.

Oscar’s mother hugged her, soft and warm, before she could think to move away. “You’re always welcome here,” she murmured.

She nodded, throat too tight to speak.

The drive back to Oscar’s apartment was quiet.

The air between them felt heavier than before, but if Oscar noticed, he didn’t mention it. He just kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles against her jeans.

He had lived here once. She had known that, of course, but it hadn’t really settled in until they stepped inside. The apartment was nice—too nice for someone their age, with high ceilings and a view of the city skyline. It was the kind of place no one could afford on their own at twenty, but then again, Oscar had never been on his own. His parents had bought this place for him before he moved to London. And when he left, they had kept it, untouched, waiting for him to return.

Even now, years later, it still felt lived in.

A grey jumper was draped over the back of the sofa, abandoned from a night long before he had packed up and moved across the world. Books still lined the shelves, their spines bent from hands that had once thumbed through them over and over. In the bathroom, a bottle of expensive cologne sat half-empty by the sink, like the ghost of someone who had never really left.

She had never had a space like this. Never had a place that was hers, let alone one waiting for her when she came back.

Oscar stretched, sighing as he pulled his tie loose. “You okay?”

She nodded. Lied.

She wasn’t sure how to explain what she was feeling. That his world, even in its quiet moments, felt bigger than anything she had ever known. That even now, standing here in the silence, she could feel his parents’ presence, their care, the love that had built these walls.

She ran her fingers over the sleeve of his old jumper. It was soft, still smelled faintly of him.

“Yeah,” she said finally, voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar didn’t push. He just pulled her into his arms, resting his chin against her hair, holding her the way she had never been held before.

She let him.

Even though she knew love had never been enough to keep something whole.

Oscar moved through the apartment like it was second nature, like he had never really left. He slipped his watch off first, then unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall loose before tugging it over his head. The routine of it was effortless, like he had done it a thousand times before. And he probably had.

She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipping the small bag she had packed. She didn’t have much—just a clean T-shirt, a pair of shorts, a toothbrush shoved into the side pocket. She pulled out the T-shirt and slipped it on, the fabric worn thin with time. A band logo, faded and cracked across the front.

Oscar smiled sleepily when he saw it. “Didn’t know you still had that.”

She had stolen it from his wardrobe months ago. He had offered to give her others—newer, softer ones—but she had kept this one. Something about the oldness of it made it feel safer. Like proof that something could be loved and worn down and still be whole.

She didn’t say that, though. She just shrugged.

He brushed past her to the bathroom, warm fingertips trailing across the small of her back, and she froze for half a second before forcing herself to relax. It was strange, sometimes, the way affection caught her off guard.

She brushed her teeth next to him in silence, their reflections side by side in the mirror. He looked like he belonged here, hair messy from pulling his shirt over his head, moving through the space like it had been designed for him. She, on the other hand, felt like she was still learning how to exist in it.

When they finally crawled into bed, he pulled her in without hesitation, an arm slipping around her waist, his body curling against hers like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Goodnight, love,” he murmured against her hair.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

She wasn’t.

She stared through the open curtain, watching as the city moved without them. Melbourne never really slept—cars still hummed down the streets below, red taillights flashing against glass buildings, voices echoing from somewhere far away.

It was strange, this kind of quiet. Not the silence she had grown up with, heavy and stifling, but a different kind. A living quiet. A quiet that was waiting, watching, breathing.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed.

Oscar didn’t stir as she left, his breath deep and steady.

She padded into the living room, the floor cool against her bare feet, and sat down on the carpet near the window. The city stretched out in front of her, vast and endless, glittering like it was trying to promise something.

She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin against them, watching as the night passed her by.

She sat there for a while, her legs crossed beneath her, staring at the city lights flickering in the distance. The streets of Melbourne were alive, full of movement, full of people who were out there living lives she couldn’t quite understand. It was like she was watching them from the other side of a glass, separated by a distance that seemed both real and imagined.

Oscar’s world—his family, his childhood, his home—felt like a distant dream to her now. Everything about it seemed so effortless, so seamless. The way he fit so naturally into everything, how easy it was for him to exist in spaces where he was loved, where he was wanted.

She, on the other hand, had always felt like an intruder. She had been taught to stay small, to fade into the background, to shrink herself to fit into the cracks of a broken home. Her parents had never known how to love her, had never known how to make her feel like she deserved to take up space. There was always guilt—always some unspoken rule that her needs, her desires, her feelings were secondary to everything else.

And now she was here, sitting in the quiet of Oscar’s apartment, in a life so different from hers, and it felt like she didn’t belong.

Her chest tightened, the weight of it all pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. She had tried to ignore the ache in her ribs, tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but tonight, it was too much. Her hand slipped to her face, her fingertips brushing away the tear that had started to fall.

Another followed. And another.

Before she knew it, she was crying—silent, shaky sobs that hit her with such force she couldn’t stop them. She curled into herself tighter, her chest constricting with the weight of everything she couldn’t say, everything she couldn’t explain.

She heard the faint sound of footsteps, soft but urgent, and before she could wipe the tears away, Oscar was there beside her, his presence overwhelming in its familiarity. He didn’t say anything at first—just sat down next to her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body next to hers.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was hoarse from sleep, a soft murmur against the stillness of the apartment.

She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to make sense of the mess inside her. How could she explain it? How could she explain what it felt like to stand in the middle of a life she didn’t recognise, to love someone who didn’t know the weight of every dark thought that had ever crossed her mind?

“I don’t know,” she whispered, the words breaking as they left her lips. “I can’t… I can’t explain it.”

Oscar reached for her then, his arms wrapping around her gently but firmly. She let him, letting him pull her against him, her head resting against his chest. His fingers found the back of her neck, brushing through her hair in slow, soothing strokes.

She wanted to feel comforted, wanted to let the warmth of his touch chase away the cold that had settled deep inside her, but all she could think about was the gulf between them.

“You’re perfect,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she clung to him, “you, your life…”

She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat, the tears continuing to fall despite her best efforts. “I don’t know where I fit in all of that.”

Oscar didn’t respond right away. He just held her tighter, his lips pressing against her forehead, his breath steady, as if he was trying to anchor her in the storm. She could feel his heartbeat under her cheek, a steady rhythm that reminded her of how fragile everything was.

“I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be,” she whispered, the words barely coming out through her sobs. “I don’t know if I can.”

He didn’t say anything, but she felt him nod against her hair. He was still. The quiet in the room was thick, suffocating in its intimacy, and it was like the two of them existed in a space where nothing needed to be explained.

He didn’t have the answers. He didn’t know how to fix it. But he was there.

And in that moment, it felt like all she needed was for him to hold her. Even if she wasn’t sure where she fit into his life, even if she wasn’t sure she could ever fully belong there, he didn’t let go.

Her breath was unsteady, her chest rising and falling in shallow movements as she stared at the city lights, unfocused. Oscar was quiet behind her, watching her, waiting. His presence was warm, grounding—but it didn’t stop the words from forming, thick and heavy on her tongue.

"I don’t think I can do this."

She felt the way his body tensed behind her, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on his knee. He turned to her, his voice careful, measured.

"What do you mean?"

She let out a shaky breath, her arms tightening around her knees. The words were coiled inside her, sharp and aching, and she hated herself for saying them, for making them real. But she couldn’t swallow them back down. Not anymore.

"I don’t think I can be in a relationship when I resent your life," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I live in jealousy. In envy. I don’t know how to be with you when every part of me aches for what you had. For what you still have."

Silence stretched between them.

She could feel him staring at her, searching her face like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying. He didn’t speak straight away, and the stillness of it made her stomach churn.

When he finally did, his voice was quiet, careful.

"You resent me?"

She shook her head instantly. "No. Not you. Never you. Just… your life. The way you had people who loved you, who cared about you. Who made sure you were okay." She swallowed, her throat tight. "I don’t know what that’s like. And I don’t know how to be with you without feeling like I’m standing on the outside of it. Like I’ll never be a part of it."

Oscar inhaled slowly, deep and deliberate. She could see the way his jaw tightened in her peripheral, how his hands flexed slightly against his thighs. His breath was even, but there was something fragile about it, something that felt like it might break if she pushed too hard.

"You don’t have to be on the outside," he said after a long pause. His voice was soft, but there was something almost pleading beneath it.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Don’t I?"

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue, to fight her on this. But no words came.

Instead, he just stared at her, the weight of his gaze pressing into her like something tangible. His fingers twitched again, like he wanted to reach for her but wasn’t sure if he should.

"You think I don’t see it?" she whispered. "The way your parents look at you. The way your mum touches your arm when she speaks to you, the way your dad lights up when you walk into the room. The way love has always been something you could rely on."

Her voice wavered, her throat burning as she forced herself to continue.

"I never had that. I never had any of it. I don’t know what it’s like to feel safe with someone. To believe love won’t be taken away the second I do something wrong." Her breath hitched, and she had to close her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. "And I hate that. I hate that I don’t know how to exist in this with you without ruining it."

She exhaled shakily, turning her head towards him, finally meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and heavy with something she couldn’t quite place.

And then, after a long, aching pause, he whispered, "So you’re meant to live a life without love?"

She inhaled sharply, her throat closing around the words she didn’t have.

"I don’t know," she whispered, barely able to say it aloud. "I don’t know."

And then he broke.

His lips parted, a sharp inhale catching in his throat, and before she could even process it, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He blinked as if he hadn’t realised it was happening, but he didn’t wipe it away. He just sat there, staring at her like she had just cracked something open inside him.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

She had never seen Oscar cry before.

Not even when he was drunk, when he was tired, when he spoke about things that hurt. He was always so sure of himself, so steady, like nothing could shake him. But this… this was different.

And she had done it.

She had put that look on his face. She had made him cry.

Her own tears started again, quiet and relentless, slipping down her cheeks in uneven streams. She wanted to take it back, to swallow the words whole and pretend she had never said them. But it was too late.

Oscar reached for her then, his hands gentle but firm, pulling her into him. He cradled her against his chest, his breath unsteady against her hair.

"Just because you grew up without it," he murmured, his voice rough and broken, "it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it."

She clenched her jaw, trying to hold herself together, but the second she heard the shake in his voice, she shattered completely.

And so she let herself be held.

Let herself cry into him, let his arms wrap around her like they had the power to keep her together, even if she wasn’t sure she could ever truly believe him.

Oscar’s breath was uneven against her hair, his arms still wrapped around her like he was afraid she might slip away if he let go.

"So," he murmured, his voice thick, hesitant. "What do you want to do?"

She didn’t answer right away.

She felt the weight of the question settle in the space between them, pressing against her ribs, curling around her throat.

What did she want to do?

She wanted to run. She wanted to stay. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to crawl inside his chest and live in the warmth of his love just long enough to convince herself she could be something more than this.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, dark with something raw and unspoken. His fingers flexed slightly against her back, like he wasn’t sure if he should let her go or hold on tighter.

"I don’t know," she whispered.

It was the only truth she had.

His face didn’t change. He didn’t push her for more, didn’t try to fix it or force her into a decision. He just held her gaze, his jaw tense, his expression unreadable.

"You don’t have to know," he said after a moment, his voice careful. "Not yet."

But she did.

Didn’t she?

She could feel something inside her unravelling, something fragile and aching and exhausted. She was tired of feeling this way, tired of carrying this weight, tired of never knowing how to let herself just be loved.

She blinked, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks, and exhaled sharply, her breath shaking.

"This isn’t fair to you," she whispered. "Loving me like this. I don’t know how to give you what you deserve."

Oscar inhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against her wrist, tentative, like he was waiting for her to flinch.

"You act like you have to earn love," he murmured, his voice so soft it barely reached her. "Like it’s something you have to be good enough for."

She looked away.

"Isn’t it?"

He let out a sharp, quiet breath—something between a sigh and a laugh, but it wasn’t amused. It was pained.

"No," he said simply. "It’s not."

She wanted to believe that. God, she wanted to believe that.

But she had spent her whole life learning the opposite.

Her parents had only ever given love in fractions, in conditions, in words that sounded like care but tasted like control. Affection was something she had to be deserving of, something that could be taken away as easily as it was given. It had taught her that love was a privilege, not a right. That people like her—people who made mistakes, people who didn’t know how to be soft, people who had only ever known how to survive—were never meant to have it unconditionally.

She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, like she could push the thoughts away, bury them back into the depths of herself where they belonged.

Oscar reached for her again, slow and careful, his fingers ghosting over her arm before he finally took her hand. He held it tightly, grounding her, and when she didn’t pull away, he exhaled like he had been holding it in.

"You don’t have to give me anything," he whispered. "You don’t have to be anything. I just want you."

She bit her lip, breathing through the sting in her chest.

"I don’t know how to be what you need."

Oscar swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

"You don’t have to know that either," he murmured.

Another silence. Another pause, stretching thick and heavy in the dimly lit room.

She should say something. She should. But all she could do was sit there, trapped between wanting him and wanting to push him away, between reaching for him and running from him.

She didn’t know what to do.

And for the first time, she let herself admit it.

"I’m lost," she whispered, voice breaking. "I don’t know where I’m supposed to be."

Oscar squeezed her hand, pressing it against his chest, against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Then let me be here with you," he said softly. "Until you do."

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his shoulder, and for a moment—just a moment—she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely alone.

She spent the rest of that night in his arms, neither of them getting much sleep.

His hands traced soft patterns against her skin, as if memorising the shape of her. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to hold her together or keep her from slipping away. Maybe both. He whispered things against her hair—small reassurances, quiet promises—but neither of them really believed them.

By the time the sun bled through the curtains, neither of them spoke about what came next.

And when they got back to London, she packed her bags as he stood and watched. He didn’t try to stop her. Maybe he knew better than to try. Maybe he had always known how this would end.

She didn’t say goodbye.

She went back to the pub where she had met him, where the floors were always sticky and the air smelled of stale beer and burnt chips. She worked until her hands ached, until she was too tired to think, too busy to remember the way he had looked at her that night, broken and hopeful all at once.

She worked until she didn’t have time to think of him at all.

Until another young man in a crisp suit sat at the bar, ordered something expensive, and asked for her number.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, she almost thought about saying yes.

But she couldn’t, because when she looked at him, she saw Oscar.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @driverlando

[cloudykyu]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪mark lee, ever the stickler, has set himself a list of rules to follow until he obtains his degree and he’s had no problem sticking to it. but alas, rules are meant to be broken and mark isn’t as disciplined as he prides himself in being. especially when you smile at him like that.

pairing: student!mark x fem!reader genre: college au, fluff, very light angst, kinda slice of life, strangers to lovers word count: 11k hehe warnings: swearing, not proofread, mark is a little insufferable, reader is referred to as she/her, small food mention, they kiss but its nothing spicy, reader cries but its nothing too angsty, i'm projecting my feelings for mark here, i wrote this in 5 days

mani's notes: thank you @1ntaks for beta reading and encouraging mark delulu hours. you'll be the witness at our wedding

Ah, yes. The university library where it reeks of dread and stale paper. You thought you were the only idiot who would step foot in this place on a Friday, but you’re quickly surprised by the lack of empty tables on all three floors. Shouldn’t these people be at home preparing for the absolute ragers someone must have planned for the night? Nerds. 

You’re about to call it quits and kiss your research paper goodbye until you spot him. On the very top floor of this god forsaken library, sits a boy at one of the tables near the window. Black framed glasses are perched on his nose bridge and his equally black hair sticking up in all sorts of places. Notebooks, textbooks, and loose papers lay spread across the table as the boy goes to absolute town on writing whatever he’s working on on a piece of paper. You know that face. Of course you know that face – it’s fucking Mark Lee. 

Well, you kinda know him through the giggles and whispers that bubble up from others as they spot him on campus. He’s a total hit with the babes, but you’ve never seen Mark react to any of it. The boy is always power walking to his next destination with his lips pursed and dumb, wired earphones in. Even when someone shouts his name, loud enough to pierce through whatever song he had blasted, he’ll just look up at the source and give a nod. Never one to stop and chit-chat. Pretty interesting guy, you think. 

Knowing all this, you can tell just exactly how focused he is and start to feel bad for what you’re about to do, but he’s the only one with a table to himself, meaning he’s got extra space. “Hey,” you start off once you’re close enough. The boy's head snaps up quickly to the sound, eyes widening at the intruder (you). “I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re the only one with space at a table right now… Is it okay if I sit here with you?”

He looks around, scanning his surroundings to find that you weren’t lying. Groups of 3-4 students were huddled at each table, leaving him all alone at a place meant to seat five. “Oh, uh…” he mumbles, moving his things to create some space for you. “Sure, no problem.” 

You smile at him in thanks, pulling out a chair and taking a seat diagonal to him. He’s quick to go back to whatever he was doing, looking back down at his notes and continuing to write. “I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, unzipping your bag to pull out your own notes. He tries his absolute best to hold back a groan, but he just lost his whole flow so he has no choice but to deadpan back at you. 

“Mark” he states simply and you’re still beaming at him despite the sour look on his face. 

The loud sound of your laptop turning on causes his eye to twitch, but you pay no mind. “Thanks for letting me sit here, Mark! I promise I won’t bother you too much.” Mark gives you nothing but a grimace in response, hoping you stick to your word. He was just on a roll before you arrived, nearly ripping his pen through his notebook paper with how intensely he was writing and now he feels like he has to take 20 deep breaths before getting back into it. And surely enough, he does.

Only a handful of minutes go by before he starts to catch your movements out of the corner of his eye. You really haven’t said a word to him, but you’re the type of student who’ll work for maybe 15 minutes, then take an even longer break. He wants to bang his head against the wall everytime you begin to fidget with your phone or click your pen over and over, or lean back in your chair and sigh, but he doesn’t. Even if Mark has a whole system for studying and you just ruined it, he’s not a bitch! 

It’s not until your 3rd break in the hour do you speak up. “I’ll be right back,” you tell him. Moving to stand up, Mark's eyes follow your movements. “Don’t move!” 

Tell that to yourself, he wants to reply. Instead, he opts for a nod of the head and an “okay.” Taking it as a sign, Mark gets back to work quickly. If he’s lucky, he’ll get through at least three modules before you come back and disturb the peace again. Now, that’s a little mean. You’re not even doing that much to bother him, but remember Mark Lee’s got his own system and rules to follow in order to keep himself on track. He’s so self-disciplined that it’s never failed him and he’d like to keep it that way, even if today kind of threw a wrench in his plans. Mark is normally always studying alone with no one even daring to approach him. His own friends are always welcomed, of course, but they never last long at Mark’s table with the way he stares them down whenever they start non-academic discussions. He doesn’t mind, though. Actually, he likes the fact that his friends respect him and his ways enough to know their limits. 

He doesn’t hear you come back, until you slide a pack of crackers towards him. You say nothing as you move the snack across the table, giving him a sweet smile that he just can’t return. “There’s no eating in the library, Y/N.” 

“So,” you shrug, plopping back into your seat. “No offense Mark, but you’re telling me you won’t break the rules for some ol’ processed fuel for the brain?” The crinkling sound of the package opening causes Mark’s eyes to blow wide once again. He turns his head fast to look around, making sure that no one bears witness to you munching on a contraband that could lead him to getting kicked out. Or worse – BANNED. 

“There’s rules for a reason,” he chides at you, whispering so others don’t hear you breaking the law. 

You roll your eyes at how frigid he’s being and turn back to your essay in front of you. The snack was just what you needed to go on. “Whatever, but I’m just saying” you wave a hand at the boy. “I spent a dollar fifty on you because I heard your stomach screaming from across the table.” Mark’s mouth opens to counter your remark, but is silenced by the rumbling feeling in his stomach. You heard it too, of course. Having heard it the whole time you’ve been sat here. 

The way his body has betrayed him leaves Mark no choice but to silently open the snack under the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him looking around frantically before shoving a cracker in his mouth. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #4 I know you’re a broke college student, but stay away from processed food as much as you can. 

You run into Mark again a few times after that day in the library. Just in passing on campus and at the coffee shop nearby, but there was never enough time for you to have a chat with him. Whenever you lock eyes with the dark haired boy, you give him your best smile and a big wave hello. Mark returns every single greeting with his own tight lipped smile and a raise of a hand before quickly looking away and continuing his business. A few passerby’s give you two a look, because no way Mark Lee just acknowledged someone. The reality is that Mark thinks you’re causing a scene with the way you’re obnoxiously waving at him and he just wants you to stop. You were hoping to see him again with enough time to actually talk to the guy. The only interaction you have with him can’t be him scolding you for buying him a snack and eating it in the library. 

That moment finally comes when you spot Mark sitting right in the middle of the quad. He’s sat criss crossed on the grass, posture straight as he stares ahead almost as if he’s meditating in the middle of campus? What an odd dude. 

You make your way over to him anyway, deciding that he needs a buddy to meditate with. “Hi Mark,” you greet, sitting cross legged next to him. He barely moves to see who has infiltrated his space, knowing only one person who’d do such a thing. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going alright,” Mark lets out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Everything he had been trying to let go in the middle of this field starts to bubble up in a rant and it catches you off guard with the way this is the most you’ve ever heard Mark speak, but you listen intently anyway. “I swear, I swear! I packed my bag the night before like I always do, but when I got to my first class I couldn’t find my damn highlighters anywhere! Like who the freak forgets a whole 10 pack of mildliner highlighters?” You can’t help the grin that forms on your face as the boy continues to ramble on and on, some you can’t even make out because he’s drifting off to mumble to himself under his breath. “And it’s not like I could go back home to get them either, like I’m the idiot who decided to live off campus so I have like NO TIME to go and get them. I just had to sit in 3 back to back classes with no highlighters.” 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #6 make sure everything you need for the next day is packed the night before.

Mark could have gone and gotten them during this break of his, but he felt so utterly defeated. And when Mark feels like this, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself other than sit someplace and stare – which is exactly what he was doing before you showed up. “I just can’t continue my day like this,” he sighs dramatically. “But I have 2 more classes before I can call it a day.” 

He’s so weird and so dramatic for no reason. But you decide to put him out of his misery anyway, given recent events you just had (your last class). “Mildliner you say?” you hint, pulling out a yellow and a green highlighter from your pocket before handing it out to him. “It’s not a whole 10 pack, but it’s something to talk you off the ledge.” 

You watch as Mark eyes fleet between the pens in your hands and your face with a confused, yet suspicious look on his face. “I can’t take these from you. Don’t you have classes, too?” 

“Nope! I’m done for the day,” you shake your head, happily. “And they’re not mine, either. I found them on an empty desk in my last lecture so I just took them.” Mark continues to stare, deadpanning at you just like he did in the library a week before. 

“First you eat in the library when you’re not supposed to,” he counts his fingers, scoffing. “Then you take someone’s highlighters? So you’re a criminal…” 

It’s your turn to scoff, shoving the pens in the breast pocket of Mark’s jacket with a frown on your face. “I didn’t steal anything because nobody was there, Mark! Imagine how lonely they felt just being left there?!” 

Mark can’t help the way the corners of his lip turn up at the sight of you pouting and spewing ridiculous nonsense about inanimate objects, but still points a finger at you. “I’ve had two whole conversations with you starting now and both times it’s you convincing me that rules don’t exist.” 

“That’s not how you say ‘thank you’, Mark Lee,” swatting his finger out of your face, you cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. 

“I’m not thanking a thief,” he tsks, then lets out a light breath. “But considering how you saved those two lonely pens, thank you.” The small smile on the boy's face is enough to have you gushing. Standing up from your spot on the grass, you brush off any remnants from your pants and stick out a hand for him to take. 

“Come on, get up” you smile at him. He takes your hand in his and you help to lift him off the ground with a groan, to which Mark scowls at. “When’s your next class? I’ll walk you!” 

Checking the time on his watch, he informs you that his next class is pretty soon and you give him a tug to start moving. “Why are you gonna walk me? You don’t have to.” 

You ignore him and he seems to be ignoring himself too with the way he’s following at your side. He rolls his head back to loosen his neck and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he walks with you. “Because that’s what friends are for, Mark!” you sing. “I don’t just give away free pens or spend a dollar fifty on vending machine crackers for just anyone, you know.” 

“One, they’re not yours” he corrects, giving you a side eye. “Two, I never asked you to feed me. And three, no offense, but we don’t even know each other.” 

“Hmm, true!” you hum in agreement, turning to look at his side profile. He turns his head slightly to look at you too and he can’t help but feel a little scared with the way a fire burns behind your eyes. “But I would like to get to know you more! You seem like a cool guy with your head screwed on kinda straight and I like how you’re always so focused. I need more hardworking friends like you.” 

Seeing his lecture building come into view, Mark lets out a little sigh of relief. This moment is about to get awkward and he’s thankful that he’s reached the end of your walk together. “Look, Y/N” he starts, and if he wasn’t such a Leo – so headstrong, the way you’re looking at him with hope filled eyes and chest swelled with pride almost had the words die in his throat. “I-I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m really trying hard to work towards graduation.” 

“Oh, I know” you cut him off. The interruption stops him for a little, giving you a look before continuing on. 

“And while you seem like a nice girl, I don’t have time for a relationship right now.” 

Tilting you head to the side a little, you wear a confused smile on your face. “I’m not looking to date you either, Mark. I just wanna be your friend.” He shuffles on his feet slightly in front of you, adjusting the straps of his backpack higher on his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, but the friends I have now are good enough for me” he gives you a smile, an awkward one that lets you know that he just wants this conversation to be over. “I barely have time to see them and when I do, they already keep me on my toes as it is.” 

“Oh…” With the way Mark is fidgeting in front of you, looking around at literally anything but you, you decide to let the protests die down. “Okay, Mark. I’m sorry if I stepped over a line.” You give Mark your best smile, like you always do, and gesture for him to enter his lecture building. “But thank you for letting me walk you. I won’t bother you anymore.” 

“Thank you, Y/N” he replies, looking down at his feet before walking into the building.

Settling in his unassigned, assigned seat at the front of the lecture hall, Mark plucks the two highlighters you had given him earlier out of his jacket pocket and places them gently on his desk. It definitely isn’t his 10 pack, but it’s the most at peace he’s felt all day. Mark is brought back to that day in the library. Those same words, “I won’t bother you” that you had promised to him, only for you to in fact, bother him. He has a feeling that it will happen again, but can’t dwell on it for long because he’s picturing him leaving you there by yourself as you wave goodbye to him. Not above and in the air like you had done before in passing, but a small, almost shy one with a meek expression on your face. 

He decides not to think about it. 

Mark hasn’t seen you in four days. 

It really doesn’t bother him, like, it really doesn’t even if he’s been going about his days wondering if you’ll greet him as you always do from across the way. He just REALLY needs to return the highlighters to you as he’s been reunited with his full 10 pack ever since that day, swearing to never forget them again. 

Okay, honestly, Mark thinks he was really mean to you after you walked him to class and he wants to say sorry. Also, thanks to Chenle who scolded the boy after he spilled his guts to his friend about his day with a sour look on his face. 

“She bought you a snack, gave you highlighters for free, and walked you to class and you don’t even wanna be her friend?!” he had shrieked, standing to his full height with hands on his hips. “You are SO rude, I can’t even – who raised you?!” 

Safe to say that Mark’s day did not get better after that, walking around with a permanent pout on his face as he thought about it. If he were to be so real right now, Mark would actually be the first one to spot you before you see him. After that first day in the library, for some reason, whenever he’d lift his gaze from the ground in front of him, they’d automatically zero in on your form. Those bright eyes weren’t hard to miss at all. Anyways, you had always been by yourself during those times. I mean, who would wanna be around someone who talks to the birds with a serious look on her face? Whether you were sitting somewhere in silence, staring off into space, or standing a full five minutes in front of the coffee shop menu in deep contemplation before pulling out your phone to ask Siri to flip a coin before you ordered, you were alone. 

Mark was weird, but so were you. Not that he cared as a very self aware man. He knew he had odd tendencies, he knew he could be difficult to talk to or be around, but it was all the more special when someone took the time to actually try. Might as well be weird together, right? As desperate as he was to find you, he wasn’t going to try that hard. You’ll pop up eventually. But by the fourth day, Mark had started to grow agitated. Eyes flicking around the campus a lot more than usual and taking different routes to his classes in hopes of spotting you, only to fail. Until he decided to relax his nerves with some good ol’ study time because nothing like using your brain on max power! 

Just like you had first found him before, there you were, sitting in the crowded library at a table by yourself. Your whole demeanor was opposite of Mark as you leaned back in your chair, legs outstretched under the table as you typed away on your laptop with huge headphones over your ears. Despite how fast your fingers flew across your keyboard, you looked so relaxed with your lips turned up in a small smile. He wonders what you’re thinking about. 

“Oh well,” Haechan sighs, a sarcastic tone laced in his voice. Mark decided to drag Haechan with him to the library today to basically force and beg the boy to finish his seven late assignments. “We really tried our best, Markie. Let’s go get a sweet treat to reward our efforts!” 

All Mark can do is roll his eyes at his best friend, knowing how hard he fought to not come here with him. Literally whined and complained the whole time while dragging his feet on the way to success. Mark really did try his best, giving Haechan a motivational speech about how he could do it and he was there to help him, but seeing you right there when he needed to, Haechan can go fail for all he cares. “Actually, I’m gonna stay,” he declares, turning to look at Haechan with a shrug. “I see someone I know so I’m gonna go sit with them.” 

“You know people?” Haechan gasps, bringing a hand up to his mouth in surprise. Mark shoves him by the shoulder in response, groaning. 

“Shut up!” he chides, using force to physically turn Haechan’s body towards the library exit. “I was gonna invite you to join us, but you can leave, like actually.” Haechan lets Mark manhandle him, complying with taking his happy ass out of the library as he laughs. As Mark watches Haechan wave goodbye to him, he exhales deeply, cheeks puffed to calm himself before turning back towards your direction. With each step he takes closer to you, he gives himself a little pep talk in his head and goes over everything he needs to do. First, ask to sit with you. Second, give you back your highlighters. Third, apologize for how mean he was to you four days ago. Fourth, calculus homework. Light work.

Seeing his form loom over you, you look up in surprise with your eyes wide. You quickly straighten your back and lift one side of your headphones off your ears. When you smile at Mark, even with confusion knitted between your brows, he feels a sense of ease wash over him. “Hi,” he breathes. “Is it okay if I sit with you?” Step one: CLEARED!

You say nothing, nodding at the boy with that smile on your face still. After gesturing at the seat in front of you for him to take, you avert your eyes back to your screen and adjust your headphones back into its place. Mark gladly pulls out his chair, taking his backpack off to unpack his things. Even with all the bustling movements in front of you, not once do you look up or attempt to make conversation as he settles in and Mark doesn’t know what to do next. You’re like, actually locked in, a big difference compared to when you two were first sat in this library. He guesses he could move step 4 to step 2 and complete some of his assignments before resuming with the plan. Wake his brain up a little bit, you know?

Ten minutes in and you still haven’t said a word. Still haven’t even taken a glance at him and Mark is officially bothered. He’s been working on the same problem this whole time, unable to move past the third step to solve it. He taps the end of his pencil against his notebook a few times, leg bouncing frantically, before ultimately letting the stick fall out of his hand with a sigh. Leaning back in his seat, Mark stretches his neck from side to side to relieve some tension before letting it completely fall slack, chin against his chest with his arms crossed. Back to the tapping, his pointed finger beats against his arm as he thinks about how to break the ice. When he lifts his gaze to discreetly look at you, you’re still not paying any attention to him in clear agony. His bag sits in the chair next to him, the front pockets zipper open and he sees the two highlighters you had given him. He could just slide them across the table to you in order to get your attention, but would that be enough to start a conversation? What if you just don’t accept them or throw them back in his face? Well, you let him sit here with you so he couldn’t have messed up that bad… Okay, but what if– 

Marks inner monologue was cut short when he catches your movements out of the corner of his eye. You’ve finally taken your headphones off and stretched your arms above your head. Now’s his chance, get the plan back on track. “I wanna be friends!” he blurts out, stopping you mid stretch. His outburst was pretty loud for the quiet atmosphere of the library, catching the attention of a few students nearby. Mortified, Mark feels his whole face heat up and slouches lower in his seat. He scolds himself under his breath as he places both hands on his head, lowering the brim of the hat he was sporting over his eyes. You can’t help but giggle at the blushing boy in front of you, extending your foot to give his leg a tap from under the table. He uncovers his face slightly to look at you and you grin at the expression he wears. 

“If this is about the other day, it’s really okay” you assure him, propping your elbow on the table to rest your chin in your hand. “I understand and I’m not mad at you.” 

“You’re not?” he wonders, a little surprised. When you shake your head in reply, he sits up fully and leans in a little closer to you from across the table. Mark does not need anyone hearing any more of this conversation. “I-I just wanna say sorry, Y/N. I was pretty rude to you that day when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” 

“Is that why you’ve been sitting here in distress this whole time?” you laugh, quietly. “You really don’t need to feel bad, Mark but I accept your apology anyway.” Marks smile mirrors your own, admiring the way you’ve been so accepting of the situation when he was clearly in the wrong. “But still, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to!” he interjects, nearly jumping up in his seat. “You really are a nice person and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more, too. I shouldn’t have treated you like that when you basically saved my life that day.” Mark moves to grab the pens from his bag, laying them out on the table for you to take. “Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to give these back to you.” 

Reaching your hand out, you scoot the pens back in Marks direction. “You can keep them as backups or something,” you wave off. “You’d probably use them more than I would anyway. I take all my notes electronically.” Pulling out your fancy tablet from your bag, you wave it around for him to see and Mark’s just in disbelief. 

“How can you retain any information that way?” he gapes, eyes popping out of their sockets. “Connecting your pen to paper helps you process your thoughts better, you know.” 

“This is better for the environment!” you argue, rolling your eyes and Mark shakes his head in disapproval. He starts going on a whole tangent about the benefits of physical note taking and you just sit there and take it. But the conversation flows easily with you and Mark talking to each other back and forth. Neither of you get back to your studies for the remainder of the afternoon. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #7 study time is quiet time (friends allowed but they need to shut up).

Heavy footsteps trudge through the halls of the lecture building, but Mark has never felt so light. Even if his shirt is wrinkled, hair all over the place, and eyes about a second away from shutting, he walks to his 8 am class with a tiny smile on his face. 

It’s been weeks since you and Mark had bloomed a friendship. Weeks filled with studying late in the library, fighting over who gets to pay for the sweet treat of the day, and gallivanting around campus as conversation fills the silence between you two. Mark had honestly thought that he’d take a while to warm up to you, but he finds it incredibly easy to open up and be himself in your presence. He likes that he can talk to you about anything and everything, and you listen to him with your full attention. Mark Lee prides himself in how strong his walls are built and how dedicated he is to his craft (being a student), but it’s like his whole resolve crumbles with the more you’re near. Ask him if he cares, because he doesn’t. 

From the moment he had entered the education system at the young age of five, he never stopped. Mark immediately enrolled in college after graduating high school, barely having time to explore the woes of life. So now in his third year of his undergrad, it felt nice to finally feel alive – do everything boys his age are supposed to do. Like last night, Mark had stayed up until midnight on the phone with you, giggling over the drama you two had started watching together during your study breaks. Even after you both had hung up the call, you two had continued to send messages to one another. By the time Mark had fallen asleep, it really wasn’t that late to the normal person, but Mark Lee has a bedtime that he did not follow. Hence, his appearance today. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #2 get a full 8 hours of sleep every night – nothing more, nothing less.

His body feels like dead weight and he can’t stop yawning, but Mark’s heart is soaring. Not that he knows it. As smart as he is, he’s also a big idiot atoning these fluttering feelings to the excitement of having a new friend around. He doesn’t think much about the fact that his favorite part of the day isn’t putting in his earphones while sat in front of a pile of textbooks anymore, but going to meet you in between classes. 

Fueled by caffeine from his second iced tea of the day (coffee makes him feel sick), Mark is basically skipping towards you sat on a bench under the tree. He can’t wait to gush to you about the new topic he’s learning about in his lit class, but the words die down in his throat when he sees the look on your face. 

You’re sat stiff on the bench, hands balled into fists as you struggle to catch your breath. Instead of greeting him with that glowing smile of yours, he’s met with a solemn Y/N. It’s like a dark rain cloud was brewing a storm over your head and when Mark approaches with a soft call of your name, he sees the tears brimming your eyes, only to fall free when he asks what’s wrong. Your lip quivers as you struggle to find the words to answer your friend and Mark feels like his whole world is falling apart. 

He moves quickly to sit next to you, arms moving to wrap around your shaking figure, but he doesn’t quite make it all the way. Everyone knows Mark is not a physically affectionate person and he’s never done anything more than shove your shoulder when you made a joke he didn’t like. This was new territory for him, to comfort a crying friend, which is why he’s sat frozen with his torso turned towards you, arms in the air, looming above your form and not making contact. Mark’s mouth gapes open and closed like a fish, thinking about what he can say to comfort you, but you take matters into your own hands and fully lean into the boy. Your face buries itself into his shirt as you wail like a baby and Mark has no choice but to finally engulf you in his arms when he feels your tears seep through the fabric. 

“Remember that project I was working on all last week?” you muffle into his chest. Mark hums in response because of course he remembers. He remembers how hard you had slaved over your project, doing your best to ensure that it was perfect. But he also remembers how excited you were to have this as your assignment, how bright your eyes had shone when you told Mark how confident you were in the topic to execute it well. This class of yours wasn’t the easiest for you, so it was like a breath of fresh air for you to finally understand something being presented. “My professor kept me after class and tore me to fucking shreds. Told me everything I had written was wrong and the whole thing was crap a-and basically said I should drop the class because I’m clearly not understanding anything!” 

All Mark does is wrap his arms tighter around you, resting his cheek atop your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles into your hair and you pull back abruptly, gripping his shirt in your hands. 

“Am I really that stupid?” you hiccup, screwing your eyes shut. “That my professor tells me to drop out of his class?” 

“Hey hey hey,” Mark scolds you, gripping your shoulders tight, basically shaking sense into you. “You’re not stupid, he’s stupid! You try so hard, Y/N and you shouldn’t discredit yourself like that.” 

Sniffling, you give Mark a small, yet sad smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and he’s grown furious now. “I don’t think I’m trying hard, I’m just trying my best.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” he affirms, raising a hand to pat your hair. “Being a student isn’t easy, but you’re doing it! Don’t let one lousy professor tell you otherwise – I say you stick it to him and not drop.” 

“I don’t know…” you laugh, trailing off in thought. “There’s a lot I have to think about. If I stay, he’ll probably give me hell, but if I actually drop, I’d be saving my GPA but my pride would be hurt.” 

Mark purses his lips, then snakes his hands down to yours and pulls you up from the bench with him. “Tell you what,” he starts, tugging you to walk with him. “You don’t have to think about it right now, but how about we clear our heads and go do something?” 

You’re struggling to keep up with Mark’s quick steps, the strap of your bag slipping off your shoulder. “Do what? Don’t you have class?” you interrogate him, pulling at his arm. “And can you slow down a little?” 

He complies, slowing his walk to a normal pace and turns to you with a grunt. “What’s with all the questions? Just trust me,” he rolls his eyes and moves to stand behind you. Mark nudges you forward in the direction he wants despite your protests. “And don’t worry about my classes, I’ll take a sick day or something. I can’t just leave you by yourself after seeing you cry like that!” 

“I’m fine, Mark” shrieking, you reach behind you to make him let go of you. “It’s really okay! You don’t have to break your perfect attendance record for me.” He finally stops forcing you to come with him, stepping to the side to walk alongside you with a light hand on your back to keep you from running. 

“I don’t have to, but I want to” he smiles down at you, which you return with an unimpressed look. “What are friends for, right?” You finally give up, letting Mark take you to wherever he had in mind to do whatever. 

“Fiiine,” you relent and take a step closer to his side. “But you’re paying!” Mark smiles at you again, wrapping his arm fully around you for the second time that day in a side hug before dropping it to hang in between your bodies. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #5 DO NOT SKIP CLASS (unless you’re sick and I mean dying).

From bike riding to ice cream in the park, Mark kept you busy all afternoon. You have to applaud his efforts with the way he was constantly cracking lame jokes just to pull your face up and encouraging you (peer pressure) to let him buy you a second cup of ice cream. If you could give Mark Lee his flowers for making you feel better right now, you totally would, but instead you settled for treating him to the little Lego figurines he had been eyeing in the trinket store you visited. 

“Uhhh,” the boy basically moans in delight. “Since we didn’t go to class, this is perfect to stimulate our brains!” 

You chuckle at how ridiculous he is and how silly he looks. The two of you are sat on a picnic table in a random park, unboxing your figurines to build. Mark had picked a hippo and a penguin while you just chose to build a cat. The excitement is basically rolling off his body as he vibrates in his seat, tearing into the box and plastic bag containing the pieces. “You that excited?”

Mark makes a face at you from across the table, almost as if he’s offended. “Of course I am! For ages 8 and up, easy work dude” he basically brags, chest puffing up. “Thank you for getting these, Y/N. I didn’t mean to linger on them long enough for you to feel like you had to get them.”

“I wanted to,” you chirp, shaking your head. “It’s the least I could do for you after all you’ve done for me today.” He says nothing, glancing at you for a moment before continuing to build his penguin. A grin slips onto his face as he watches you struggle with the tiny pieces, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

You both continue to build in silence, enjoying each others company as the sun starts its journey to dreamland. The sky is painted in hues of gold, pinks, and blues, the warmth starting to settle between you two. Mark notices the rays coming down on his skin at looks up at the beautiful sight, quickly pulling his phone out to snap a picture. 

“I have to send this to my friend, Renjun” he hums, satisfied look on his face. “He’s gonna love this.” 

You coo at Mark and he ignores you, finishing up his penguin. “You send your friend pictures of the sunset often?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, busying his fingers with the pieces. “Renjun’s an artist so I like to send him stuff I think looks pretty. Maybe he’d draw it or something, but he never asked me to stop so I just keep doing it.” 

Biting down on your lip, you have to contain your smile and squeals at how endearing this guy was. “I hope he’s drawn at least one of them” you voice. “I know if someone sent me pictures of every sunset, I’d cherish it.” 

Mark laughs in response, but trails off as he starts to think. He’s finished his penguin now, rolling the figure between his fingers. It’s only the size of his palm, but he doesn’t think he’ll get to finish the hippo as this took him nearly an hour. It’ll be dark soon. 

“Y/N,” he starts somewhat sheepish. “Why don’t you have any friends?” 

His question freezes you in your seat and you eye him from under your lashes. “I have friends,” you utter. “I’m friends with my roommate.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters. With the way the air has shifted, Mark feels as if he hit a nerve. “It’s just t-that everytime I see you on campus, you’re alone! I don’t really see you talking to anyone else…” 

Also finished with your cat figure, you fold your hands into your lap and stare it down. “Is that a bad thing?” 

He shakes his head furiously, reaching a hand across the table to tap on it and get your attention. “No, no! Not at all” he insists and takes your cat to stand next to his penguin. “I was just curious, I’m sorry if I made you upset.” 

Looking back up at the boy across of you, the corners of your mouth turn up to give him a small grin. “It’s okay, Mark. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions” you explain. “It’s not like I don’t want friends, I just don’t really know how to make them? I’m not the type of person to strike up a conversation out of the blue… Even with group projects, it’s a little hard for me to open up.” 

“You?” Mark scoffs. “Not the type of person to make conversation with strangers? Then how do you explain how we became friends.” To prove his point, Mark inches your Lego figures closer together. 

“I guess you’re right,” you laugh, throwing your hands in the air. “I don’t really know what’s up with me then. But at least I have you now, right?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, chuckling to himself too. “Yeah, you got me now. So don’t you worry, Y/N. I’ll send you pictures of every sunset I capture.”

You bring your hands together, clasping them against your cheek as you look out into the horizon. Watching the bright sky paint itself in an array of different colors before it says goodbye for the day, you’ve never felt more content. And Mark does the same, eyes following the rays of gold bleed into pink, but he doesn’t think he can enjoy it as much as you do right now.

He just can’t believe that he’s here with you in a random park in the city. Instead of sitting in class, he’s sitting at a table building animals out of extremely tiny Lego pieces. Mark didn’t even send his professors a courtesy email that he wasn’t going to be present today, too focused on helping you feel better. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he was also busy trying to forget that gloomy look on your face. It was the first time Mark had ever seen you cry, and he hopes it will be the last. 

A part of him also understands you. The overwhelming pressure of having to do well and not wanting to wave a white flag for the sake of your confidence in yourself. Mark knows it all too well. He also knows how hard it can be to make friends here. No one ever attempts to get to know Mark, only approaching to ask if he’d accompany them on a romantic date or help them pass their classes. It took him a while to learn how to say no, and thank God he did. He’s content in his little bubble with the good friends he has, but sometimes he wonders what life would be like if he just gave in. Who would Mark Lee be if he wasn’t so stubborn in his ways?

“Y/N,” he begins again. “Do you think I’m difficult?” 

Turning your gaze away from the darkening sky, you give Mark a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

“Like,” he sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks down at the table in front of him, chewing on his lip. “Do you think I’m hard to deal with? Am I too stubborn to talk to?” 

His explanation doesn’t fix your confusion, continuing to look at him funny. “No, Mark. It’s very easy for me to be around you,” you correct him, moving a hand to gesture between both your bodies. “I’m sat here with you— our first time hanging out off campus, by the way, after you comforted me while I cried into your shirt earlier today.”

“This was the most fun I’ve had in a while!” you continue, gushing when Mark doesn’t respond. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that big head of yours, but I enjoy your company. Heck, I asked you to be my friend during our second meeting! You are anything but difficult.” 

Mark looks up, taking in the sight of you sat across of him. The sky has turned into a pretty pink as the sun has started it’s descent closer to the horizon and it’s casted over you beautifully. There must be a magic in the air that has sparked a look in your eyes that is so comforting. He’s been wary of the elation he’s felt since the day he met you. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but in that moment, Mark has never been so sure in his life about going against everything he set himself up for.

“Come on,” Mark smiles and nods his head towards the path. “Let’s go home.” 

Johnny hears shuffling from Marks room and decided to peak in. Cracking the bedroom door open, he’s met with the boy pacing back and forth, combing his hand through his hair frantically. He can hear Mark mumbling to himself, using his hands to express whatever he was feeling to himself. “Dude,” Johnny calls out and Mark snaps his head towards the sound so fast, he thinks he’s got whiplash. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Fuck if I know!” he roars, placing both hands on his head. “If anyone can tell me what’s wrong with me, PLEASE DO.” 

The older boy sighs, stepping through the threshold as he prepares himself for what’s about to come. He’s used to Mark being on edge, but this is the guy who apologizes whenever he swears. “Come here, buddy” Sat on Marks’ bed, Johnny pats the seat beside him and Mark obliges. His head is hung low and lips set into a deep pout. “Tell Johnny what’s wrong.” 

Mark lets out a sigh of his own, whining as he falls back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. He had just woken up from his 3pm nap he takes every other day that lasts precisely an hour and a half. Two hours if he feels like treating himself, but today, Mark had woken up in a cold sweat just a little after 8pm. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #3 if you need a nap, only nap on MWF when you end classes early (only nap for 2 hours MAX).

As soon as he sat up, eyes blown wide, he let out a hushed “oh fuck.” He’s usually so tired that he never dreams. Ever. But this time, all he could see in his slumber was you. You, who he had seen just a few days ago after ditching classes. Forget everything he felt and thought that day because it was starting to feel a little too real.

It came to him in flashes, like he was in some sort of stupid movie. From walking down the street together, to banging on rigged claw machines, to simply sitting across of you at the picnic table in the park, Mark dreamt of every moment you had spent with him. Except, whenever he laid eyes on you, the whole world had slowed down to a serene still and tints of light illuminated around your entire being. And when you smiled like you always did, little bells started chiming. 

Oh, the bells. That dream was straight out of those romance movies Haechan likes to watch regularly. What kind of sick world is this? 

“I’m so screwed, man” he voices, rubbing a hand over his face. “I-I think I like Y/N. Whatever that means…” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Johnny muses. “If you like her, then you like her. Y/N’s that girl you’ve been hanging around with a lot?” 

Mark sits up fully, head still hanging low. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now, even if he lowkey knew it was coming. “Yeah, that’s her” he mumbles. “I swear she hexed me or something! I skipped class the other day to hangout with her, been eating way too many vending machine snacks, and haven’t been getting my full 8 hours of sleep, bro! That’s so not like me.” 

“First of all, you’re an idiot. Girls aren’t witches, they’re just celestial beings” Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes at his young friend. “Second of all, did she force you to do all those things?” 

“What? No,” Mark protests. “I wanted to do all those things, with her.” 

“Okayyy,” Johnny rolls. “Are your grades slipping from ditching or not sleeping?” 

Mark blinks at the boy sitting next to him. “No, I’m a week ahead in all my classes.”

“Then what’s the problem here, man?” Johnny belts, standing to his full height. “Cause I’m not seeing it!” 

Still sat on his bed, Mark stomps his feet a little as he whines. “Johnny” he complains. “The problem is I’ve broken every single rule I made for myself. For just one person! Like I said, this isn’t like me and I’m not sure how to handle it.” 

“Look Mark,” Johnny chastises, moving to sit next to him again on the bed. “I love you, dude. I really do and I admire how hard you’re working towards your education, but I wish you would just let yourself breathe a little.” Mark sits in silence, taking in every word. “I’m so glad that you’ve been following these rules you set for yourself and it’s been working, but why are you stopping yourself from experiencing something everyone dreams of? Why are you so scared?” 

Great question that he doesn’t really know the answer to. He’s not scared of you, exactly. Marks more scared of the feelings you give him. You’re not trying to change his ways or who he is, in fact, you’ve been trying your damn hardest to fit yourself into Marks usual routine. You don’t make fun of him for his little quirks and comments and he likes how comfortable you make him feel. He likes how you just go with the flow of things, making it a breeze to just enjoy himself in that moment with you. Mark likes how he no longer feels the weight of the world when he’s around you. 

Mark likes you. But he’s never felt this way before about anyone. Not even Jessica Alba in Fantastic Four while all his friends were drooling over their TV screens. 

With pursed lips, Mark looks up to his friend with pleading eyes. “What do I have to do?” 

“That’s not the question you should be asking,” Johnny smiles at him, shaking his head lightly. “You’re the most hardworking guy I know, no matter what you’re doing. Are you willing to put in that same effort with Y/N?” 

Later that night, Mark lays awake and stares at his ceiling in the dark. He’s got one arm folded under his head and the other laid across his chest, deep in thought about the conversation he had with Johnny. He took way too long of a nap, so now he can’t fall asleep. Not to mention how his phone had been pinging with messages from you, but they remained unanswered as he contemplated. 

What was he to do with you? 

He could just pretend that he never had this groundbreaking realization. He could continue to remain the way he is with you, just friends. Mark doesn’t even know how you’d react to his feelings, but he can’t say he’s afraid to find out. Even if you were to turn him down, tell him he’s got no chance at romance, he doesn’t think he’d mind. Like yeah, he’d be pretty devastated, but who wouldn’t be? After talking with Johnny some more earlier today, he realizes how sure he is with the way his heart feels. He’s dumbfounded that this is happening to him, but he’s not embarrassed at all. Who knew that you, who had wanted to be his friend after only meeting for the second time, would be the one to change his entire view? Mark didn’t even want to be your friend at first, but here he is, possibly wanting something more. 

You probably would think the switch was so sudden and Mark wouldn’t be able to tell you anything else. He doesn’t think you’re the type to completely cut him out if you don’t feel the same way, but there’s always that small chance in anything. He doesn’t know what to do with you, but he also has no clue what he would do without you. Groaning into the night air, Mark turns over to his side. He’s face to face with the bright numbers on his alarm clock that read 1:27 AM. Deciding to leave this problem to tomorrows Mark, he screws his eyes shut and tries to force himself to sleep. But he just lays there, staring at the dark behind his eyes still completely awake and tries to think of something that will put him to bed. And oh of course, all Mark can see is you. 

He lets you consume him, taking every glimpse of you in and god damn Y/N, you are doing nothing to help! Marks leg starts to shake under the covers, twitching himself awake til he starts tossing and turning. Eventually, Mark gives up. He can’t get comfortable at all. Ripping his comforter off his body, Mark moves quickly to stand up and shoulder on a flannel that draped over his desk chair. Hasty fingers grab for his glasses and his phone before he books it out the door to God knows where.

No, Mark knows where he’s going in the dead of night. After walking you home the other day, he realized just how close you two were, living just a 10 minute walk away. But with the way Mark is moving, he finds himself standing outside of your apartment building in just 7 minutes. He’d move to enter, but he doesn’t actually know which unit you live in. So like the completely sane person he is, Mark starts shouting into the night, disturbing the peace. 

“Y/N!” he howls, hands cupped over his mouth. There’s a few lights he can see on through the windows, but none of them show movement. “Y/N, it’s Mark!” 

There’s only one window that’s open, and Mark sees the curtains tear open. There you stand, looking down at him from the fourth floor with disbelief all over your face. “Mark!” you whisper shout. This boy must have lost his damn mind to disturb you and your neighbors at this time, after ignoring your messages all night. “Are you insane?” 

“Just come down, please” he brings his hands together, in a begging and pleading gesture. “I have to talk to you.” 

Sighing, you move away from your window and start to make your way down to the front of your building. You’re praying to whoever’s listening that you don’t get any complaints in the morning from Mark screaming in the courtyard. Like seriously, he could have just called you quietly on his phone. You can see it hanging out of his pocket, but you assume he really is out of his mind when you take in his form. 

He’s pacing again, fidgeting as you approach him closer and only snaps out of it when he sees you in the glow of the dim street lamps. “Hi,” he exhales and you just continue to eye him suspiciously. 

“Hi,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s going on, Mark? It’s nearly 2 AM, you could have just called me.” 

Mark smiles sheepishly at you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbles, kicking the ground underneath him. “I wasn’t really thinking…” 

“Clearly,” you muse, grinning at him. This is the most casual you have ever seen Mark, who never leaves the house unless he’s in a pair of jeans or nice pants. You can tell how much of a hurry he was in, dressed in old basketball shorts and slippers on his feet. The flannel he was wearing over his white tee was also inside out, but you don’t point it out to him. “But you’re thinking about something to come all the way here. What did you wanna tell me?” 

“Uhhh,” he stutters, eyes darting around the dark, avoiding your gaze. “I didn’t wake you, right? I’m really sorry for not calling first.”

You shake your head no, waving him off. You were already awake, but it’s the weekend tomorrow so you have nothing to be up early for. The only important thing you were doing was doom scrolling on your feed. Mark would have known you were still awake if he had just checked his damn phone. Even if he wasn’t interrupting anything important, you still wish that Mark would spit it out. He just nods at your explanation, still not meeting your eyes and says nothing. 

“Hey,” you call out, poking his middle with your finger. He caved into it, swatting your hand away because Mark Lee is ticklish. “Take your time, find the words. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” 

Mark finally looks into your eyes, softening at the way they’re pouring into his. Your lips are curled into the prettiest smile and Mark thinks you have really nice teeth. It’s all enough to squeeze at his heart, causing his blood to pump furiously in his chest. He feels it tighten and tighten, until it finally explodes.

“I’m all bent outta shape, dude” he rants, staring right at you. “And it’s all because of you!” 

You frown at his confession, wondering if he really came all the way over here just to call you out. “What did I do to you, dude?“ 

His shoulders slump and he rubs at his eyes. Sleep is finally getting to him now that he’s here, but Mark has always been way too good and getting what he wants to give up. “Everything,” he basically whines like a child. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mark looks to the sky, eyes screwed shut as he lets out a long exhale. You’re still confused as to what he’s trying to get at, but seeing him so perplexed himself has you concerned. 

“Mark,” you coax, touching his arm lightly to bring him back down to Earth. “If I did something to upset you, I’m really sorry. But could you please tell me exactly what happened so I can fix it?” 

Eyeing when your hand meets his skin, he smirks lightly at the tingling waves that shot up his arm. He taps the hand that connects him in a reassuring manner before completely engulfing it in his own. “I’m just being dramatic, it’s not that bad” he offers, stroking a thumb over your knuckles. Goosebumps peak through your skin at the gesture. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…” 

He trails off, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I have these rules for myself, called ‘Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone’ and I’m not trying to one up everyone I meet with this. It’s all just to help me succeed and be my best self as a student” he’s nervous as he wears his heart on his sleeve for you when he hears you laugh, but it quickly dissipates when you give his hand a squeeze in reassurance. Come on, it was a funny name! “And I’ve been really good at following them! It’s definitely helped me to stay on track, but from that first day we met in the library, I’ve just been breaking all of them.”

“Oh,” you gasp, quickly letting go of him to shy into yourself. “I’m sorry, Mark. Really, I never meant for you to go off track.” 

“No, it’s okay!” he assures you, grabbing his hand back into his. In the middle of 70 degree weather, Mark felt cold for the split second you let go. “It’s not your fault and I don’t mind it at all. My point is, it’s just not like me at all to do this and I didn’t realize why until now.” 

“I’m so used to being strict in my ways because it’s been working well for me, but here you come along, making it so unbelievably easy to forget it all,” you’re still not sure what he’s hinting at, but you continue to let him talk. “Forget it and realize that it’s not so bad as long as I’m with you, Y/N. I like that I can still be myself without all these rules or barriers, I can still sit in the library all night with you sleeping across of me.”

Mark can’t help the smile on his face at how wide your eyes have blown, almost as if you couldn’t believe what he was alluding to. He also can’t believe it, but the more he speaks, the more it feels right. Even if he feels like he’s saying a whole lotta nothing. But it’s something alright and you feel your heart start to beat a little quicker. You hope Mark can’t tell how your hands have started to clam up and tremble in his hold. 

“I like the feeling you give me, that everything’s gonna be okay and I have nothing to worry about” he beams at you, steadying your shakiness with a tight grip. “I like you, Y/N.” 

You say nothing, taking it all in. Mark starts to shuffle on his feet, loosening his hold on your hand but not fully letting go so you can’t book it inside. He should speak up and add that you don’t have to respond to him right now, because it really is sudden. It just felt like a good time to tell you, even though 2 AM is never a good time for anyone. But you cut him off before you get the chance, grinning like a Cheshire Cat at the nervous boy in front of you.

“You didn’t even wanna be my friend at first,” you point out, tapping your chin in thought with your free hand. “Now here you are, holding my hand and confessing to me in the dead of night?” You’re teasing him and he knows it. 

“Ugh, I know” he exclaims, looking like a kicked puppy. “I’m just a stupid, dumb, idiot boy and I really felt bad for how I treated you that day.” You giggle quietly, stopping him from dropping to his knees in front of you to beg for forgiveness. “I know this all came so fast and I know I have a lot to learn. A lot of things to grow into, but I feel like I can do that as long as I’m planted next to you.”

The taunting coo you let out does nothing to cover the blush rushing to your cheeks. You move your arms to wrap fully around his neck, standing on your tip toes to hide your flushed face in his shoulder. Mark reciprocates, encircling you in his hold completely as he pulls you closer to him. “You’re so cute” you squeal, nuzzling your face closer and inhaling his scent. “You’re so sweet, Mark. I will gladly plant myself next to you.” 

You pull away slightly, still face to face with the boy who is also blushing. He’s fighting back a smile, the apples of his cheeks making a prominent appearance. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he’s so clueless with the way he asks you the question, causing you to laugh again. If anyone were overlooking the two of you right now, all smiles and blushing messes, they’d think you’re insane. 

“Do you want me to be?” you press further and Mark nods his head vigorously. His hold tightens around you for the nth time that night.

“Can I be honest real quick?” he utters, staring deep into your eyes. He’s been honest this whole time, you don’t know why he needs to ask. “I’m kinda scared…”

You pat his shoulder reassuringly, standing further on your toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “We can go as slow as you’d like, Mark. I’ll be here all the way.” Mark feels a wave of warmth wash over him, suddenly feeling bold and straightens his back. 

“I think you missed,” he states. You’re back to wondering what the hell he was talking about until you feel his lips on yours. 

The kiss is soft, short, but sweet. It’s enough to unleash a cage of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough for Mark to know exactly how you feel, even if you never said it. 

Pulling away, you two share a shy smile as you lean your forehead against his. You play with the hair on the nape of his neck as you lean back in for another. So much for going slow, Mark thinks as he’s basically clawing at your sides to pull you unbelievably closer to him. He breaks away first this time, leaning into your neck as if he can’t get enough of you. 

“Go home, Mark” you laugh at the tickling feeling against your skin. “I’ll see you after we’ve both had some rest, okay?” 

He only sighs loudly and dramatically before pulling back, reluctant to release his hold on you. His feet step away from you slowly, towards the direction of his own apartment building. Mark doesn’t want to go. Mark wants to spend all his time with you, even in the middle of the night, but he listens to your request anyway. You’ve gotten him wrapped around your finger, after all. He knows you’ll have all the time in the world, starting now and he can’t wait for the days to come. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #1 no dating of any kind to prevent distraction (90 and above or no love).

Spoiler: Mark keeps his 3.9 GPA until graduation and graduating with honors is literally nothing compared to the love you shower him in.

mani's notes: i hope you enjoyed reading this! yk true cloudykyu fashion is no real plot lines and whiplash time skips lol it's my first long fic since coming back so i would appreciate any feedback :D please let me know your thoughts in the tags or my ask box!! <3 happy valentines day unless you're mark lee

[itaintgojover]

COMPATIBILITY TEST

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ feat. !Frat Boy! Gojo fucks you outside at his party. douchey gojo asks to see how compatible you guys are after you tell him you cant stand him. i wonder what he means...

-`♡´cw: 18+!!!! unprotected sex (be safe guys lol), creampie, oral m and f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, mention of threesome, voyeurism ??, panty thief, drug usage

-`♡´word count: 3.8k

ps. i did not proofread this

The hot, bright beams slowly clouded your vision with dark green spots. The scent of sweat and pheromones filled the air while you and some stranger attempted to dance, but too far gone to worry if anyone was watching. It was simple: Night after night,  the douchiest of the frat guys would hit you up and practically beg for you to show up at their “rager”. If it weren't for your friend constantly begging, you would spend most of your nights probably scrolling through your phone. This night didn't feel particularly different, not until you saw him.

Earlier 

“Y/N pleaseeeeeeeeeeee, this is my one chance to get laid” Your friend cried out almost in tears. 

“Shoko, come on. You said that every other night, we just finished with midterms. I'm fucking tired.” You groaned, exhausted from the weeks of studying.

“Hey, maybe you’ll find someone too. You haven't been with anyone else since Nanami. What even happened between you two, he was literally the perfect man”

The long dreaded question finally popped up. Your ex boyfriend- if you could even call him that- and you had split. He was indeed the “perfect man”. Nanami would always make sure that you were taken care of, always there for you on those late nights when you felt you had no one else. Ideally, you would have liked to end up with him, but unfortunately the stars didn't align for you two. You know he loved you, and you definitely loved him, but you weren’t the one for him, nor he the one for you.

The two of you had realized it early on in your relationship, yet decided to continue whatever you had. It was mutually beneficial, you both got to fill the void of a loved one without being exclusive. It wasn't until recently when you had felt the need to let him go, he felt like a safety net. You weren't ready to completely open yourself up to anyone, but you still wanted the comfort and understanding he provided. It felt like the right thing to do. He told you that he’d always be around if you needed him, and with that you were content. 

“Listen, it's complicated. But me and him are on good terms, happy?” 

“Somewhat, but I'm worried about you babe. I'm not saying you need someone to be happy, but you don't even seem open to the idea. I think it would be good for you to meet someone tonight. Just promise me that you’ll try, okay?”

The look in Shoko’s eyes seemed to be of genuine concern. You begrudgingly nodded your head in affirmation, although doubtful that such a thing would occur. 

You hastily got ready, and you and Shoko arrived at the house. Couples on the lawn shamelessly displaying heinous acts. A myriad of trash thrown around, waiting for the poor sucker the next morning to pick it up. Upon entering it didn't get any better, the same as every other party you’d been to recently. 

“Hey, Y/N!!!” 

A voice suddenly calls your name and you whip your head around to see your friend Itadori along with your other friends Megumi and Nobara. They come over to embrace you and share pleasantries after not seeing each other for a while. 

“Sooooooo, I heard through the grapevine that Y/N’s on the market now. Megs, I think it's finally your chance”

An obviously wasted Nobara says while elbowing Megumi in the ribs and receiving a playful punch back. 

“Hahaha, yeah but don't worry, me and him are good. I think i’m gonna get a drink though I’ll be back soon”

You escape the conversation as soon as you can, the only way you would survive tonight was to get shit faced as fast as you could. 

Hours go by, and instead of you being absolutely wasted, you’re watching Shoko play beer pong with random people who won't stop laughing. Shoko had-to your terror-informed you that your DD for the night bailed. She didn't outright ask you to be mom for the night, but her passive aggressive whines would say otherwise. Being surrounded by intoxicated people while sober was not how you were expecting the night to turn out. You leave shoko alone for a bit, attempting to go and find a restroom after all the soda you had. You wander upstairs passing at least three couples making out, and start rattling each door handle hoping to find a restroom. Most of them were locked or had a tie around the knob signaling that whoever was behind that door, was getting busy. At last though, one of the doors finally opened and instead of seeing the restroom you see a women straddling a man.

You stand there in shock for a moment. The man had his hand gripped onto the woman's ass, tenderly kneading the flesh beneath her skirt, while sucking on her tit ravenously. The two continued to grind onto each other seemingly not aware of your presence. The man’s gaze slowly turns to you and your breath hitches. Blue was all you saw. As bright as a summer day yet he seemed so far away. Almost as if there wasn't currently a women he was ravishing, all his attention was on you. His eyes remain on you while the women in his lap squeals and shoves her fingers into his snow, white hair seeking something to grip for stability.

The sight immobilized you, you knew you should have walked away as soon as you saw them, but something held you back. Your body subconsciously takes a step back creating a loud squeak from the floor to echo through the room. The woman all of a sudden yelps in surprise and covers her chest yelling an angry “get out” at you. 

You rush out of the room feeling your face heat up at the sight you just witnessed. Something about the way his long, slender hands slid up her ass sent shivers through you. It was quiet a foreign feeling, you never would have thought you would feel envy especially over him. 

Gojo Satoru. The well known president of the most famous fraternity on campus, Alpha Beta Kai. He was at the top of everyone’s “people to bang at least once” list. There was not a single girl or guy on campus that didn't want to be involved with him in some way. Stories about him reached far and wide, which is why you (who tried your best not to involve yourself with drama) even knew about him. Last 4th of July, the guy has supposedly fucked every girl apart of the sorority next door, Kappa Deltha Phi. Along with the rumors that he was part horse. There were many eye witnesses that came forward, sobbing saying they’d never find a man like him again. To you, Gojo Satoru was a mess who you didn’t wanna associate with. You knew you had mutual friends like Shoko and Nanami, who swore he was a nice guy deep down, but beyond that, you didn't hope for anything more. 

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you go back to find Shoko. She's giggling over some dumb joke when she notices that you’re there and runs over.

“Heyyyyyy, Y/N.  I missed you sexy, come dance with me”

She hiccups after that last words, and starts dragging you over to the dance floor where house music was playing. You don't even protest, too overwhelmed from what happened just trying to distract yourself. Shoko starts grinding up on you and you give in and do it back desperate to have some fun. The sweat and scent of cheap perfume suffocates you and holds a vague sense of nostalgia. No matter how many times you tell yourself that you’re done with these shitty parties you always come back. Sure, you could blame it on Shoko, but you could easily tell her no. honestly, it didnt make sense to you, but deep down you knew this cycle would keep continuing. All of a sudden, Shoko doubles over and starts gagging. Great, your night just keeps getting better. You place her arm over her shoulder and guide her upstairs to the bathroom (which you now know the location of). You do your best to look away while holding her hair back and assuring her that it’s okay. A ray of orange graces your eyes all of a sudden, and you swear that you cry a little.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N is Shoko okay??? Here, I got it from here. I can tell you’ve gone through a lot tonight.”

“Awww, Nobara i’m going to kiss you. You’re literally my angel, I’ll be back in a little i'm just gonna clear my head. It's been a weird night…”

Getting a sincere nod from Nobara, you walk outside to the backyard, where surprisingly not a soul in sight. You head over to a far couch and sit down for a bit. Maybe you would go inside in a bit, talk up some cute guy then head home. Hell, maybe you could even call Nanami, you know he would answer and rush over in a heartbeat if you even mentioned being lonely. It was tempting, the night would end on a good note and you’d have him to comfort you. The idea didn't seem too bad and you let out a little chuckle. 

“What's so funny, voyeur?”

Holy shit. You turn to the voice to see Satoru walking towards you. When did he get here? Last time you saw him, he was almost balls deep in some blonde chick. Now you had to deal with the embarrassment of walking in on them.

“Nothing, just thinking. I’m sorry about earlier, hope you know I’m not a peeping tom or anything like that”

“I mean, if you asked nicely you could have joined. Haven't had a threesome in a while.”

Your eyes widen, surprised he would even insinuate that. Offended couldn't even explain how you felt, does this asshole really think you’d fuck him? He was delusional. Whatever feelings of envy or jealousy you had earlier were long gone, and you were prepared to get up and leave until he came to sit by you. the proximity between you was too close for your liking. You could see him. Not in the way you did before, every minor thing you wouldn't have noticed before was magnified. His perfectly, straight teeth and soft, smooth lips smirking at you. His soft, voluminous hair perfectly being pushed by the wind. His muscular arms being hugged in all the right places by the shirt he was wearing. His eyes. Seeing them up close was another experience entirely. It was almost as if you would drop to your knees right then and there. They gleamed with radiance and temptation, drawing you in the more you stared back at him. Hadn’t you known anything about him, you would have let desire overcome you.

“No thank you, you’re not really my type, plus I can't really stand you.”

Lies. You’re flat out lying, partially. It was true that you couldn't stand this guy, but he was gorgeous. But you couldn't give in and feed his fat ego even more. 

“ouch, you're harsh. I heard from a birdie though that you and Nanami broke up, and plus the look in your eyes earlier said otherwise. I could see the way you rubbed your legs together, it's okay to admit you were wet”

He places a hand on your leg, seemingly challenging you. He starts to rub circles with his thumb on your inner thigh while continuing to talk into your ear. It didn't surprise you that he knew about Nanami, they were close enough to each other for him to have mentioned it.  

“I would really enjoy myself with a pretty girl like you. I know you don't like me, but that's okay. Doesn't mean we aren't compatible in other ways.”

His hand trails up even higher, climbing further and further towards your drenched cunt. You wished desperately that his words didn't have any affect on you, but they did. There was a war happening in your mind. Did you really wanna fuck this guy and give him something to boast about? The sensible part of your brain was screaming at you to leave and leave him but hurt, but when he was this close to you and saying all the right things, how could you refuse?

“Prove me wrong then.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, he gives you a boyish grin and extends out to litter nibbles up and down your neck. Obviously intending to leave marks, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care in that moment. Satoru brings his hand up to your panties and starts to slowly palm you. The sensation against your clit makes you release a low sigh of pleasure. You could feel yourself becoming wetter the more time went by between you- if that was even possible. Sensing your neediness and urge for more, Satoru chuckles and lays you flat against the couch. The fabric from your skirt slowly slides down your legs and then he quickly discards it, leaving you completely vulnerable. A burst of panic runs through you, you exposed outside. Anyone could come outside and see you in this compromised position. 

“Don't worry your pretty little head, those fuckers are so shit faced I doubt they’ll come out here”

It eased your worries a little to hear him say that, but you were still on edge. You were taken out of your thoughts though when he bites onto the fabric of your panties above your hip bone, and takes them off with his porcelain teeth. He was taking his time playing with you, and you were unsure of whether to simply enjoy it or punch him in the face. Satoru brings his face close to your pussy, he blows a breath of air right at your clit making you tense up. He laughs at your response then places a tender kiss on your fold. Following it along with licking a stripe on the other, touching everywhere but where you wanted him. 

“Satoru, please I need it”

A vulgar whine comes out of your lips in frustration. He smiles at you before giving into your requests and lapping at the sweet juice your pussy had been collecting for him. As soon as he got a taste, he felt like he would cream his pants right then and there. Your whines had gone straight to his dick and he wasn’t sure he’d felt anything like this. He brings up a finger to your wet little entrance and slowly sinks in his long, slender finger earning a moan from you. The more he slides in the more you see stars cloud your vision. You felt the need to close your eyes. Just looking at him made you feel like you would come from the sight alone. His eyes were playful and he would occasionally let out a moan while eating your pussy knowing the vibrations made you spasm each time. The wet squelching becomes louder the faster he pumps his finger while sucking on your clit. The combination of the two makes you wrap your legs around his head while panting and begging for more.

He pulls away sensing your impending orgasm and sits down with his leg spread, his bulge on display. You eagerly get up and crawl over in between his legs. Not wanting to waste any time, you slide the band of his sweatpants down along with his boxers, and your mouth salivates. It brings you back to the rumors about this man being part horse, you had never seen anything remotely as perfect. A large vein running down the side, paired with an angry red bulging tip that was leaking with precum. You slowly bring your tongue to his tip and lick up all the precum that emerged. Parting your lips, you spit all over his cock and bring your hand up to slowly jerk him. His breath starts to become unsteady the more your hand grips his shaft and sends chills through him. You gag a little the more you try to fit him into your mouth, you reach out to his hand and guide it to the top of your head. Satoru blinks a bit in astonishment but takes the hint right away and grips your head leisurely guiding your head up and down his cock. You feel him throb in your mouth the quicker he shoves you down onto him. The more he pushed you down the more you felt the urge to choke all over him, and the more saliva you produced. You could feel it dripping down all over your chin onto him, making lewd noises as you bobbed up and down.

"ohhhhhh fuck, Y/N. holy shittttt, just like that. such a good girl, sucking my cock nice and good."

hearing his whiny groans send a wave of realization over you. you were sucking the gojo satoru's dick. and he was fucking loving it. never in a million years did you think you'd let him see you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulls you off to your shock and bends you over the side of the couch. Realizing what he was gonna do, you arch your back and lean back to tease him.

"woah, patience now gorgeous. you want my big cock that bad?"

Satoru teases, slightly chuckling while admiring the view you give him and landing a light slap to your ass.

"mmm, need it so bad. please 'toru."

Egged on by your little nickname for him, he jerks himself a little before aligning his cock with your plush folds. He slides his tip up and down your entrance preparing you for what's to come before inserting himself little by little. The two of you release a groan of pleasure at the feeling of him sinking into you. As he bottoms out, he pulls out a tad then pushes right back. he continues this process, gradually increasing the speed. the more and more he pumped into you, you could hear the wet noises from him fucking you. it was driving you crazy, you never knew you could be so wet. you start pushing back against him, desperate for even more. he takes the hint and props up leg up to fuck you even deeper. you squeal from the pleasure coursing through your body. it felt too good to even think, you lay against the couch letting satoru take control over you.

A sudden loud creak brings you back to your senses.

"Yooooooo, dude did you see that hot ass chic playing beer pong. ughh, i needa tap that for sure tonight"

"hahaha, you wish. by the way, you seen satoru? That guy is usually always around during parties."

"hey, now that you mention it, you're right! Maybe hes fucking some girl upstairs or something?"

Two boys had come outside, and started laughing and talking loudly. They were close enough to hear, but it would take them walking around the corner to see you two. Terrified at the sudden possibility of getting caught, all the color drains from your face. This is it. These drunkard are gonna see you then go blab to everyone proudly about how satoru has "secured another body". Your immediate thought is that Satoru is gonna pull out and have you guys get dressed, but your eyes widen when he keeps going, if not faster.

He then pulls you up against his back and puts his hand against your mouth tightly. The grip he had on you was intense, one hand keeping your mouth shut while the other crept up to hold your waist against him. You can feel his hot breath against your ear, as he mutters

"Gotta keep you quiet, Princess. Wouldn't want them to see you acting like a slut, would we now?"

you nod your head in agreement, praying that they wouldn't hear you. the only noises heard outside were the loud conversation from the two boys and the obscene noises coming from Satoru rutting into you. It was a miracle they didn't notice.

Satoru picks up the pace, not being able to endure your tight pussy any longer. The feeling of your bare cunt dripping all over his cock sent him spiraling. He'd be silly to think he could last any longer. He brings his arm around your waist down to rub tight circles on your clit, stifling a moan when he feels you clenching hard around him. You cant take it anymore, muffling into his hand and squeezing your eyes shut when you come all over his cock. Feeling your orgasm, Satoru suddenly halted when he feels his balls empty everything they have into you. After a moment, he pulls out of you seeing as his come slowly starts to dribble out of your pretty hole. It burned into his mind, making him almost want to initiate another round.

You both begin to dress yourselves, and when you stand up to put your skirt on, you feel his warm come leaking out of you down your thighs. It makes you start to look for your panties but then you see him putting them in his pocket. He looks over at you and realizes that you've caught him and flashes you a toothy grin.

"Sorry sweets, gotta keep a souvenir."

You feel your face heat up in mortification. The idea of him keeping your panties would have overjoyed you, had you not imagined him doing that with every girl he's hooked up. you mutter a quiet "whatever" and sit back down on the couch refusing to look at him. In the end, you got involved with Satoru and as much as you hated to admit it, you really like it. You felt the couch dip right next to you and you realize that he came to sit next to you.

"hey."

you turn your head towards him, and he raises his hand up to your cheek to softly caress it. then lifts his head to place a swift kiss against your forehead.

"that was a lot of fun, lets do it again, okay?"

With that, he stands up and leaves, turning the corner.

"Oh my gosh! Whats up, Satoru??? Haven't seen you all party dude."

"I know, my bad. I was having a really good time, haha. Lets go back inside, hmm?"

You hear the three go back inside, as you sit there in silence thinking. Not once did he kiss you on the lips while fucking, but he gives you a forehead kiss after? What kind of guy is he, does he always get sweet with every girl after fucking their brains out? So many questions ran through your head, but there was one thing you were sure about.

You wanted to fuck Gojo Satoru again.

[brunnerasposts]

"wait in the truck"

S.H. x Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets lost on a rainy night and finds you bruised and bloody on the side of the road. You get in his truck, and he drives to find who hurt you and make them pay.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: OUTSIDE OF ST STORYLINE, mentions of physical, verbal, and mental abuse, swearing, slight fluff, references to violence, strangers to friends

Additional Note: I haven't written any fanfiction in a hot minute so please bare with my writing ;(

"Thank you for listening to 94.7!" The radio suddenly blared once the static had stopped. Steve immediately reached for the volume knob, turning it down. He could barely focus with how loud the rain was pouring and how fast his windshield wipers were having to move. There hadn't been any indications that it would be raining soon, let alone a whole storm. "Jesus," He muttered under his breath, throwing his high beams on. What was worse than being stuck in a storm? Being stuck in a storm and having no idea where the hell you are.

He couldn't remember when he had gotten off track from the directions being repeated consistently by the GPS. Maybe it was when he needed gas? Steve gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, agitated with himself for being so careless. His eyes squinted as he leaned forward, hoping that would help him see the road in front of him better. He was mainly concerned with hitting anything or anyone.

His eyes suddenly stopped squinting as he noticed a figure in the distance. It was a person. Maybe they could help him find out where he was. Relief washed over him as he drove closer. His relief soon turned to confusion as he began to realize this figure was walking away from him in the rain. It didn't look like they had a coat or anything.

He drove a bit faster to catch up with them before slowing down to a stop. He rolled his window down, realizing it was a woman. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if you could help me out here." He asked, hoping to sound as nice as he possibly could. After all, it was the middle of the night and he was a man in a vehicle while she was alone and in the rain.

"I'm a little lost," He admitted, "I could drive you to wherever it is you're going in return. You could get sick being out there like that."

She stopped walking, keeping her head down so her hair blocked her face. "You're being awfully nice for a guy stuck out in a storm." Her voice was shaky, her accent thick. Steve couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. "Just trying to be nice."

The girl lifted her head to look at him, causing Steve's breath to hitch.

The first thing he noticed was that she was absolutely fucking beautiful. He had never seen such eyes. If it weren't raining and dark, he'd probably end up staring a lot longer than he had been. Her eyes were wide, tired, and had little life to them.

The longer he looked at her, the more his smile fell and turned into a scowl. Her lip was swollen with a bleeding cut going from the bottom to top lip. She had bruises all along the sides of her head and near one of her eyes. Her tank top did little to cover the cuts and bruises lining her arms. She held herself, shaking, eyes and nose red from the rain and from crying. She had been through hell. It didn't take long before Steve was reaching across and opening the door, having made up his mind. "Climb in,"

She complied.

He turned the car lights on, watching her as she buckled herself in. Her tank was torn up, dried blood splotches near her stomach area. "What happened?" He couldn't help but ask. She stared at him and was silent for a while. Her whole body trembled, so Steve reached for the heat and turned it on. He then reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, handing it to her.

"I..uh," She sniffled, "I was home and trying to fix this light. Couldn't reach it, so I grabbed this ol' ladder and ended up falling down the stairs." She told him, avoiding eye contact as she bundled herself up. "Thank you."

"Stairs, huh?" He asked, not really believing her story. She nodded a little, fiddling with something on her hand. He glanced at it before shifting into drive, turning the light back off in the car.

"This probably isn't any of my business, but couldn't your husband have fixed the light?" He asked, looking for any other roads besides the one they were on.

He slowed the car as he heard her begin to shift, pulling at her finger. She continued to pull until the ring came off, shakily placing the ring on the dashboard. Steve turned the light on again, looking at the blood covered ring. His attention shifted to her hands, seeing bruises of all sorts.

This wasn't just falling down a flight of stairs.

He inspected her face, noticing the watered-down blood that surrounded her mouth. Her watery eyes focused on the ring she had set down. "He's no husband of mine." She whispered.

Steve wasn't one to get involved in other people's business, but too many clues were adding up. He turned his GPS off, accelerating ever so slightly. He found a point in which he could make a u-turn, hand gripping the wheel. They didn't talk for a while. Not until they reached roads that branched off.

"Where is he?"

There was silence for a while, the woman hesitant to speak. "Home." She soon admitted, looking at her lap. "Drunk."

His suspicions had been correct then.

Some light came into view as they approached scattered "landmarks." A gas station, a diner, and a bar. Steve still was unsure of where he was, but he could tell it was a very small town.

"Make a right near that gas station." She spoke quietly, Steve putting his turning signal on. "Which house?" He asked, turning onto the road. "It's at the very end of the road." She told him. Steve nodded and continued driving.

His eyes moved everywhere as he drove. He looked at the road, his rear view mirror, his speedometer, the woman next to him, pretty much anything to keep his mind occupied. The idea of what this woman could have gone through was sending his blood pressure through the roof. He didn't care that she was a complete stranger to him, he just knew she needed help. And he was more than willing to put her mind at ease.

"Are you gonna hurt him?"

He could feel her eyes on him now, but he didn't look over. "It depends." He spoke, spotting the house in the distance. He turned his lights off, driving slowly. "Do you love him?" He asked as he parked, now turning to look at her. Even in the darkness of the car, he could see her uncertainty. He gently reached his hand out, palm facing up so she could put her hand in his.

The woman was hesitant, but she placed her hand in his. "I promise he isn't going to bother you again. Now, wait in the truck." He said before opening the car door. Steve shut the door behind himself and opened the door to the backseat.

"What if he hurts you?" She asked in a panic as he grabbed his pistol and his baseball bat.

"He won't."

Steve went to close the door, but she quickly exclaimed, "Wait," and Steve stopped. "What's your name?" She asked, gripping the blanket around herself now. He couldn't help but smile a little, glad she was finding comfort in his things. "Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Y/N Letcher." She introduced herself. "Mr. Harrington, why are you helping me?" She asked, Steve simply shaking his head in response. "Just wait in the truck." He told her, closing the car door. Rain continued to fall, making his once nicely kept hair into a mop on his head. For once, he couldn't care less. He walked up the gravel driveway, each crunch under his shoe, giving him the confidence to walk up and pound on the door.

If he was being completely honest, he couldn't even answer her question. He wasn't entirely sure why he was involving himself in another person's business other than the fact that she was in trouble and needed help. He didn't approve of this kind of behavior, and he needed to make sure this man never hurt anyone ever again.

The door cracked open, a man in a white wife beater and jeans standing with a cigarette in his mouth. "Mr. Letcher?" Steve asked.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mr. Letcher asked, scratching at his beer covered stomach. At least Steve thought it was beer. Steve grinned at the man through the screen door. "You got company?"

"Who's askin'?" The man spat, his accent thicker than his wife's. Steve twiddled with his baseball bat, opening the screen door which startled the man. He then held the baseball bat against his shoulder, grinning.

"Harrington. Steve Harrington."

---

"Harrington, you've got a visitor."

Steve rolled his shoulders before sitting in his designated chair, glaring at the officer behind him. He adjusted his wrists, looking to the phone on the wall. Taking it, Steve held it against his ear and looked through the glass.

"Your bruises seem to be almost healed."

"I hardly even notice them anymore." She smiled, more lively than he had last seen her. Steve took the time to really look at Y/N. Bruises almost gone, no blood, no cuts, just healing. Healing in so many ways.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Me? I'm doing perfectly fine, Mr. Harrington. I should be asking that."

Steve chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright in here. If I can survive one month, I can survive another eleven." He grinned a little until he noticed that her eyes cast down to the handcuffs on his wrists. "I'm proud to be here, Y/N. Please don't blame yourself." He said, watching as she slowly nodded.

"I won't. I just...I still don't understand why. Why help me? You could've just driven me somewhere and dropped me off and...that would be it." Y/N whispered into the phone. Steve's eyebrows furrowed with concern, leaning closer.

"I helped because I couldn't imagine what would've happened to you if I didn't." He frowned, gently placing his finger against the glass. She did the same. "He won't hurt you anymore. He can't," Steve promised, "And I promise the second I'm out of here, I'm gonna make sure you never have to worry about him again."

The woman laughed softly, gazing at Steve. "You've done more than enough for little ol' me, Mr. Harrington." She promised. "It's funny, when people ask me about what happened, I never know how to describe you. I keep wanting to call you an angel, but I don't know if an angel would've done what you did."

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure they wouldn't."

She stared at Steve for a little, glancing to the officer who gave her a minute warning. "Steve?"

Slightly surprised by the use of his first name, he sat up. "Yes?"

"Because of you, I can sleep peacefully, knowing I'll never be hit again. Thank you, darlin'. Thank you." Y/N smiled, eyes watery.

Steve nodded before they both returned their phones to their places. Steve didn't want to move. He just wanted to keep looking at her to know that she was okay now. But he knew.

As he watched her walk away, he knew that she was going to be just fine.

The End.

[21wanderer]

Strangers on a train

Body a day - #25: Choice

Five stations left… It was 20:32 and in about twenty minutes the train would arrive at Alex’s destination, where he had planned to meet up with his friends to hit the town.

For a Friday evening, it was unusually quiet in the train. Alex had the whole compartment to himself, and just stared out through the dark windows at the indistinguishable landscapes and buildings that passed by.

Down the aisle, he could see two young men walking towards him, they were laughing very loudly. They passed Alex, but from the corner of his eye, he could see, that they stopped right as they walked by. One of them poked the other with an elbow and whispering: “that one.” Ominously they sat down on the vacant seats in front of him.

They didn’t say anything, so Alex pretended he hadn’t noticed them, and just continued staring out the window. Alex were starting to feel uncomfortable. For a sliver of a second he got eye-contact with them, they were staring right back at him, one with the arm around the other’s shoulder. Alex didn’t know what it was…

Their cocky smiles or sinister stares, nevertheless he felt a sense of unease. Why would they sit here, when the rest of the compartment is empty? They have done that by choice. They looked like bad news…

”That’s not a nice thing to say.” said the guy in the tracksuit jacket. Alex was shocked. Had he really said that out loud?

The guy in the tracksuit jacket leaned forward towards Alex, Alex tried scooting back in his seat, but the guy grabbed Alex’s chin with his thumb and index finger, then with one swift move he yanked his arm upwards, Alex felt a sharp pain in his face, and everything went black.

--

Alex had no idea, how much time had passed, or what he had just experience was just a bad dream, he was laying sideways across the train seat, his face was still hurting, though he wasn’t sure why.

He pulled himself up in the seat, then almost fell out of it again as he almost died of fright, he couldn't believe his own eyes.

The two guy were still seated across from him, but now he saw his own face smiling fiendishly and laughing at him. Alex was deeply horrified at the display, he couldn't think, all he felt was fright and panic, and then he fainted again.

--

“Good choice,” said Jacob to Adam, as the two young men disembarked the train at the next station.

Adam couldn’t stop admiring his new face using his phone camera as a mirror, gently rubbing his face and running his fingers through his lush golden hair, there was little doubt that Adam was beyond satisfied with his new model-like face.

”Do you wanna go try and find his friends? Maybe you could get yourself a new face too?” Adam said, his voice now more akin to Alex’s.

”Nah… I like my face the way it is,” Jacob said calmly, “but I would like to get myself some abs and some pecs,” he added mischievously.

”Holy shit! You can do that too?!” Adam shouted unable to contain his excitement, it beamed off Alex’s face.

Jacob chuckled: ”Probably. Why not? I already discovered how to read thoughts, and how to steal people’s faces. Why shouldn’t I be able to take ’other’ things…”

”That’s so rad! Let’s go do it! I want to be bigger, something to go well with this face!”

”Sure thing, bro, let’s hit the town and see what we find!”

The two friends, Jacob and Adam Alex, headed for the station exit, looking forward to who they were going to choose next.

[sillyblues]

the ocean and the wind. (3)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: y'alllll i am so sorry i'm like a week late. we had like a fuck ton of tests that really made me want to die and we still have more coming up next week aside from our projects. anyways!! part 3 is here. the awaited angst!! hope you guys enjoy this i pulled this out of my ass so quick because i felt bad for leaving you lot for almost two weeks. hope you guys enjoy!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 (here!) ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

Ronal and Tonowari first met when you introduced them to each other after things had calmed down with Tonowari.

They knew each other from the stories you tell of them when you spent time with each of them when things had calmed down with you and him. You told Ronal of Tonowari of who he is to you, of who he actually is behind the title of future Olo’eyktan, with fondness and giggles. You told Tonowari of Ronal of who she is to you, of who she actually is behind her cold and intimidating exterior, with admiration and grins.

They were close and very much dear to you and you’d want nothing more for them to be close to each other as well. You want them to see each other as they see you. 

And they did.

You were on the outskirts of the inner island, exiting it as you had just come back from gathering plants with Ronal for your class. Flat and circular baskets full of herbs, plants, and flowers rested against the side of your hips as you two walked. Sands and soil that were beginning to mix pushed back under your steps, leaving light footprints. You could faintly hear the waves of the sea hitting the sands on the shore and the fresh wind that softly nipped at your skin, almost ticking you.

The silence between you two was comforting but a familiar and welcome voice interrupted it.

“[Name],” Tonowari called out to you in a soft voice as he walked to you. He placed his fingers to his forehead and opened it towards you and Ronal as he said his greetings.

“Tonowari! What perfect timing!” you beamed at him and gestured to the girl beside you with your free hand, “Meet a close friend of mine, her name is Ronal.”

They introduced themselves and you watched as Tonowari’s blue eyes slightly widen before they quickly softened. How his ears twitched and the genuine smile on his face displayed his dimples, unlike the usual polite smile he shows to others. You watched as Ronal looked at him in curiosity, her forehead never furrowing nor her green eyes glaring. How her gaze didn’t look away quickly and her tail swayed lightly.

You grinned.

“Come, let us put away our baskets first and talk more.”

The two finally broke eye contact and smiled at you.

.

.

There is an island a bit far from the central island of your clan, the distance just enough to see its outline from afar and near to a village. It was more of a sandbar rather than an island and quite bare compared to the others. There were no trees nor any shrubs, maybe a few seaweeds that would wash up ashore. 

Despite its bareness, you never found it boring. This was your’s and Tonowari's island, after all. You found the place in one of your little adventures, swimming far away to see where the way of the water would take you and it led you to the little secret you two would keep for years. You two spent most of your time on this little island of yours, from countless days when you braid each others’ hair and decorate it with the prettiest shells you found and nights when you both lay down and stare under the moons, letting its beauty shine upon you two.

Now, this little secret has been shared with Ronal. It was not a heavy decision unlike it should have been, to let a stranger know something so close to you two. But Ronal is not a stranger. You see her. She sees you. Tonowari sees her. She sees him.

It was amazing to see how fast their friendship grew. Perhaps, they grew closer faster than she had with you. You thought it would take them a long time with Ronal’s shyness and Tonowari’s politeness, but they proved you wrong and you were happy about it. From the very first they met, they had gone along well like an instant connection that has been made from the moment they saw each other. 

“You act like a child. A grown child.” Ronal frowned, almost hissing in annoyance as she braids his hair. You two were on the little island, taking a break from all the classes that exhausted you three. You giggled and continued to inspect shells, keeping the ones you approved of in your left palm and placing back the others. Tonowari snorted.

“I am not a child. Which child have you seen is as big as me?”

“I see one in front of me right now.” There was a quick sound of a harsh slap on the skin and you turned at them, giggling once more. Tonowari let out a small hiss of pain and grumbled.

“No, Tonowari is not a child,” you walk over to them and sat in front of him as you placed the collected shells in the small pouch you brought with you. He grinned and before he could reply something along the lines of you being his supporter, you quickly crushed his hopes. “I think a baby would best describe him. A big babe who is lost without anyone to look after him.”

You teased him while you pulled his cheeks and pinched his arms. He let out an exaggerated gasp and you laughed. Even Ronal cannot help but let out a chuckle.

“What betrayal is this, [Name]?” Tonowari let out a groan when Ronal tugged a section of his hair in place when he flailed his arms around.

“Stay still, skxawng!”

“Not until [Name] explains herself of this betrayal!” his arms suddenly engulfed your figure and leaned his weight behind on Ronal. You squealed as you all fell while he just laughed boisterously. Ronal groaned at the heavy weight on top of her and hit Tonowari.

“You id—”

You try to get away but his arms were tight, not giving you a slight chance to escape. You felt bad for her knowing her hits don’t really hurt Tonowari and his ridiculous big muscles and she most likely knew of this as she gave up with a sigh after a few slaps with no effect on him.

You just giggled and leaned down on Tonowari’s chest. Your smile was so wide it was almost hurting your cheeks.

You would never exchange this for anything in the rest of the world.

.

.

“Ronal is such a freak, what does Tonowari even see in her anyway?” You heard a voice say in disdain and disgust as you walked towards the creek where you, Ronal, and Tonowari would meet one night. You had already asked for your parents’ permission and they didn’t mind that it is already evening. Giggles and murmurs followed after. When you heard that, your head immediately turned to the source of the voices.

They were girls who you recognized and there was one in particular whose name you remember. Her name was Letsakx. She had short wavy hair that reached up to her collarbones and was a bit taller than you. She was known for being loud and a bit mean but you never really paid mind to her that much because she hadn't done you any wrong until this moment.

“What did you just say?” You asked her after you walked towards her, confronting her for what she had just said. Her head turned to meet you slowly with her forehead raised and her friends did the same. 

“Who even are you?” She sneered.

“I asked you a question. What did you just say about Ronal?” You hissed.

“Oh, how surprising. I didn't expect that freak would have a little friend.” She scoffed. “Surely you would know what an arrogant thing she is, making people cry and pissing them off just because she can.”

“You shut your mouth, she is not arrogant!”

“Pff, what? Poor girl, you must be under her manipulation.” One of her friends said. She had wavy hair braided into a big one with her hair strands poking out. She looked at you in ridicule.

“What manipulation? How dare you say I speak of nonsense when she is truly the nicest girl in this village. How dare you speak of such things about her when you have no idea what she truly is?” You walked closer and closer to her, leaned up to her face and bared your teeth at her.

She hissed at you and you hissed at her as well. You heard her friends circle around you. One glared at you.

“Maybe she's just a freak like Ronal? You can't be friends with her if you aren't one,” the other giggled.

“Wait, I think I know you,” the latter of her friends suddenly said, “You're [Name]. You used to stick to Tonowari’s side before, didn't you?”

“You did?” Letsakx looked at your form up and down before she cackled. “How pitiful, are you clinging to Ronal just for him to have his eyes on you once more?”

“No, what are you talking about—”

“What a sad little thing, can't you see that he’s done with you?” The one who used to glare at you now looked at you with eyes full of mockery. 

You opened your mouth to say anything back to them, to snap back at how wrong they were. You three were just close friends. How could Tonowari be done with you and move to Ronal? It doesn't make any sense.

“No, we're all just friends,” you said in a firm voice, trying to steady yourself and not let their words affect you. They speak of lies, they are the one's themselves trying to delude you into thinking of your friends leaving you out. 

“Just friends? Don't they make us laugh,” Letsakx scoffed and rolled her eyes before she pointed her finger at your chest and poked it harshly a few times. “I might not like Ronal but at least I know that they are together. They will choose each other when their Iknimaya come.”

You almost stumbled back whether from the harsh pokes or harsh words, you don't know, but they rendered your legs weak. The others came closer to you too.

One put her hands on your shoulders from behind, “Poor [Name], their so-called friend who keeps tailing after them like an annoying little thing.”

“Wake up, [Name]. You will never be with Tonowari when he is with Ronal.”

“We can help you with that, you know? How could Tonowari choose her, a freak—” you pushed them away. You will not tolerate any disrespect to Ronal and Tonowari. You will not tolerate the lies they feed you. You will not tolerate the mock they have of you.

“You three do nothing but assume and assume! Have some shame!” You bared your teeth to them and hissed for the third time. Your ears were pinned back and your tail raised in anger. The anger in you boils stronger than the seed of doubt they planted in you. You walked away from them and you still hear their laughter and scoffs.

“Do come back to us when you finally open your eyes! We promise we won't laugh!” You hear Letsakx say one last time. 

You walked away until you heard their laughter faded into nothingness. Until you could only hear the soft crunches of the grass and sand under your feet. The soft whispers of the wind and the trills and chirps of the animals. The soft splashes and the pitter-patter of the water against the rocks as they stream down.

You let out a small whimper at the sight in front of you.

Beyond the creek, they lay so close to each other. Their chest rose and fell, signs of their peaceful rest with one another. Ronal’s head lay on Tonowari’s arm with it wrapped around her head. Her hand was placed on his chest and under his other hand. Their freckles glowed so brightly and — oh, how peaceful and content they looked.

Letsakx’s words rang in your ears and finally, you see it now. The way Eywa’s beauty shined so brightly to them, the way the bioluminescent lights of the plants and the water reflected on their skin. The way the water trickles softly as if not to disturb them and the way the wind provides them with enough coolness so they wouldn’t be hot as they embraced each other.

Memories of them flashed to your head. How Tonowari looked so bright and shined with the sun behind him as he comforted you with your legs halfway in the sea. How he wouldn’t let you go despite your struggles to do so for the best of you two. How Ronal finally saw you as she embraced you, her forehead against yours. How she smiled at you with such softness and gentleness.

You see it now. Why you loved being with them. Why you loved them. You didn’t see them just as your friends. You saw them for who they were. You saw—see—them. You are reminded of your greed. Your envy. It all comes back to you now.

But you are also reminded of how Tonowari and Ronal grew so close so fast, an instant connection that sparked between them. How they see each other so brightly, so gently, so lovingly. It was like they were made for each other. And maybe they were.

You bit your lip. Tonowari wasn’t just enough for you, you also wanted Ronal. You wanted her time and attention as well, why you kept her closer to you than any of your friends. You wanted him, why you avoided him in fear of him knowing your greed for him. 

Your teacher’s words rang in your ears. Greed. Selfishness. You are so greedy and selfish. How disgusting you are. And so foolish. So, very foolish. Why have you still not learned your lesson? Were you complacent in Tonowari’s belief in you? Stupid, stupid! It is him, Tonowari. He would never mind it because he is your friend. He is soft. He is kind. He is gentle.

And oh, Eywa, how could you even involve Ronal in your mess? She does not deserve this. He does not deserve this. She needs not anything or anyone to ruin her peace in life once more. Ruin her happiness. How dare you do this to her? To both of them?

You are angry at yourself. Angry for wanting her. For him. For both of them because of your excessive greed that knows no bounds. For roping them into your useless desires.

Your heart thumped so loud and heavy, wanting to rip out of the cages called your ribs and rip out through your chest and bleed so openly. Your ears are pinned back and tears welled up in your eyes. You let them fall, helpless against the raging emotions that you drown in. Your legs were weak and you have never wanted more than to open your mouth and wail but you dare not ruin their peace just because of your ruined one.

You took a step back and turned so quickly. One step. One more. Another. And more after another until your slow steps turned into a run.

Run and run, [Name]. Run and don’t look back. Never look back again. Never dare want them again. Never dare be greedy again.

Oh, Eywa, you begged, is this my punishment for the thoughts and ugliness I have borne in my soul?

I’m so sorry, Great Mother.

I am so sorry, Tonowari.

I am so sorry, Ronal.

You are reminded of how Tonowari is the ocean and how Ronal is the wind. You are reminded of your place.

Between the ocean and the wind, where does it leave you?

series taglist: @totesnothere04 @ducks118

[jaimeslanisters]

dominoes cascading in a line — the library

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

You beam, bright and happy, and he wonders if the real treasure in the Rock wasn’t in its gold or its wealth but rather in the daughters it produced. or moments in aemond's life with a lady of house lannister

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 2.5k notes: surprise bitch. i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me i promised you guys a dominoes before pawn, didn't i? (: pawn will be coming up and i will be hitting 100k with the next chapter lol sos

Aemond had been six when he first realized his father didn’t love him. It hadn’t been a momentous occasion or anything like that. There hadn’t been an offhand comment or a particular action that had prompted this realization, no big dramatic scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He had just looked up one day and looked at his father, at the rotting king in all of his glory, and known that Viserys Targaryen would never care for any of his children with Alicent Hightower, that he would be a stranger to all but one of his children.

He had been six and it had been his birthday.

The children of Viserys Targaryen had had differing responses to that disquieting truth. Aegon lashed out, drinking and whoring and failing at being anything resembling a leal son. Helaena turned inwards, closing herself off from everyone except her brothers, focusing her attention on caring for her insects in a way their father would never do for her. Daeron was inarguably delusional about the whole thing. Father loves us! He’d used to cry, face bright and red, fists clenched at his side. It’s just really hard for him to show it! He loves us! He loves us! He loves us!

At least, he had been delusional. Across the continent in Oldtown, perhaps he had come to terms with it. Father hadn’t gone along to accompany him and say goodbye even if Lord Hand Lyonel Strong had tried to insist on it, had wanted to frame it like an act of goodwill and diplomacy.

Father had said no. He hadn’t given a reason or tried to excuse his behavior. He simply hadn’t wanted to.

Even Daeron couldn’t be foolish enough to try and twist that truth.

Aegon strayed. Helaena hid. Daeron lied.

Aemond couldn’t afford to do the same.

If his siblings couldn’t confront the truth, couldn’t face it, he would. He would be their shield, their sword.

That involved training with the knights in the yard, focusing rather than goofing off like Aegon and their Velaryon nephews. It involved learning all the warrior arts and practicing until he felt like he was about to collapse and then continuing to train past that point until he actually did.

But mostly it involved studying.

Otto Hightower no longer lived in King’s Landing - he hadn’t since even before Aemond had been born - but that did not mean he had relinquished his tight control on his family that still remained in the capitol. His grandfather must have exhausted the ravens and the couriers with the long journey from Oldtown to King’s Landing, sending a couple of letters every month. Sometimes there would be one for Helaena and those were usually accompanied by an ivory statue of a bug or a book that he bought her as a present. Rarely there would be one for Aegon and his brother would always read it as soon as it was handed to him and tear it to shreds as soon as he was done. Once, Aemond had managed to snatch it from him before he could and, in the seconds before Aegon had tackled him to the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of violence, he had managed to catch onto one line.

The greatest curse onto this family is that you were born before Aemond.

It had been easy to let Aegon snatch the letter away after that. He hadn’t tried to get a hold of another letter since.

His grandfather had plenty to say to Aemond directly as it was.

There was always a letter for Aemond from Grandfather. Otto Hightower was not an affectionate man and the letters were always dry and straight to the point, outlining lessons and books that Aemond needed to read if he was to be a good and faithful son of House Targaryen. Rarely did he ever express any emotions in his words and, if he did, it was always shadowed by a sharp reminder of his duty to his family and to the realm.

Still, reading his letters always made Aemond desperately wish that his grandfather was still the Lord Hand, that he was still in the capitol to personally supervise his studying, to give him critiques and the rare praise.

Otto Hightower was a cold father. A poor father if his mother’s neurosis was anything to go off of.

But a poor father was better than no father at all.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand through the process, certainly didn’t want anyone to. Years of being on his own with only books for company had trained him well. He was used to holing up in the library, hidden away in the back by stacks and stacks of books with only an old, half-deaf septon for company. People didn’t usually come looking for him but people never came looking for him in the library.

Which is why it was especially a surprise when you stumble onto his hiding spot, eyes wide like a doe.

Since the week of your arrival, admittedly, Aemond has been avoiding you. If he thinks back to it, about how his cheeks had flamed red with embarrassment, how you had smiled and he had thought there was never anything as beautiful in the world, he wants to throw himself off the highest tower in the Red Keep out of pure and utter shame.

As sweet as you are and as kind as you can be, you’re a Lannister.

People always said that there was no limit to Lannister pride or ambition and that certainly had to be true for even a little lioness like yourself.

You might be kinder and sweeter than Aemond had thought you would initially be but that didn’t change the fact that there was only one reason that a daughter of House Lannister would stray so far from the Rock.

You were looking for a husband and, if there really was no limit to Lannister ambition, you could only have one goal set in mind.

Aegon.

With the image of you turning your pretty smiles onto Aegon playing before his eyes, he straightens up in his seat as you slow to a stop in front of him.

“My apologies, my prince. I did not expect to find anyone else here.” You say, stumbling slightly over your words in your rush to explain yourself. In your arms, you clutch a book tightly to your chest and it’s only the fact that he’s read that specific book more than a dozen times over that he can recognize it without seeing the name.

His throat is dry and there’s nothing he wants more badly than to just nod and turn back to taking extensive notes on the history of the Andals landing in the Fingers and stubbornly ignoring your existence.

Instead, he rises to his feet, bowing his head, wishing desperately he didn’t feel that slight warmth inside of his chest. “It’s no problem.” He looks down at the book in your arms and, before he can stop himself, he blurts out. “Are you reading Watchers on the Wall?”

You nod, smiling, and Aemond wonders if this is how animals feel when they first stumble into a trap, when their feet land into the snare and they’re yanked upwards to dangle defenselessly.

It can’t be. He doubts they enjoy it as much.

He starts pushing you on the book, carefully and cautiously. You may have just convinced someone else to give you a summary of it, after all, in order to endear yourself to the royal family.

But just as you had when you had first met him, you catch him off guard again.

You’re sharp and quick-witted and, if the fact that you had asked Maester Rodrik to give you further insight on Brandon the Breaker meant anything, you were just as voracious with learning as he was.

He wants to resent you.

He wants to resent you so bad.

But he can’t, not with the way your eyes light up as you talk about the Wall, about the Night’s King and his corpse queen. You lean in close to him, closer than anyone who wasn’t a member of his family has ever done. It’s not inappropriate, nothing that someone would scold or deride you for, but it’s closer than anyone has ever wanted to be to him.

It’s intoxicating and, for once, Aemond understands why Aegon is constantly imbibing, why he drinks more wine than he does water.

If it feels as nice as this does, some of his brother’s behavior finally makes sense.

When you finish your conversation, and you rise to your feet to leave, Aemond feels an unfamiliar panic rise up in him and, before he can think it through, he speaks. “If you’re not busy, you can stay and read some more. There are other stories in the book that I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on.”

You smile as bright and lovely as ever.

You settle back in your seat and Aemond turns back to his notes except now, he can’t think about the crossing of the Andals, can’t make his mind focus on all of the petty kings that had fought in vain against the invaders. All he can think is about how the two of you are sitting close enough that, when you flip a page in your book, the sleeve of your dress catches on his tunic.

It’s all appropriate. You’re both ten. You’re children sitting and reading in a library. Not even the most pious septon could find fault nor could the most insidious gossip find any fodder for their rumors.

But it doesn’t stop his heart from beating loud and hard in his chest.

No one ever wants to be this close, save his mother.

There must be something wrong with you. There must be. Perhaps you think that he’ll tell Aegon about your sweetness, about your cleverness, and your desire to learn.

He won’t care, he wants to tell you. He won’t care about anything except for what’s between your legs.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits with you, listening to the sound of you turning the pages quietly and the rustle of your clothing.

Eventually, he turns back to his notes, forcing his eyes to focus on the book in front of him.

House Shell was only one of several Houses to ally with the Andals when they first arrived, believing that their only chance of survival was capitulating to the vastly stronger invading force. Their faith was ill-placed.

Eventually, he gets a fraction of his focus back but you’re still there, teasing at the periphery. Occasionally he’ll get a whiff of the fragrant oil that you must use in your hair or you’ll hum or mumble about something you read. You don’t just fade into the background. You seemingly are impossible to minimize, impossible to shove into a box.

Aemond sighs, wishing he was stronger. How could he be a loyal and brave son of House Targaryen if the first pretty girl to give him attention made his head spin like this? What would his mother say? What would Grandfather say?

He continues to read, burying his head deep into the book until the only thing he can think about is the Shells - the Shells and the complete and total destruction of their House. He focuses on the story of Dywen Shell, about how the Andal warlords roasted him inside his own longhall. He focuses until he can hear the screams and wails of the Shell family as they watched their patriarch burn, until he can almost feel the flames licking up his sleeves.

He scratches down his notes, pretending that he doesn’t notice you similarly keyed in on your book.

What part is she at?

If you had stopped at the Night’s King and his corpse queen… next up was the Rat King. After that was Symeon Star-Eyes. They were both popular stories, ones that people told to their children without ever having touched Watches on the Wall. The book went into slightly more detail, particularly with Symeon. The songs liked to say he was blind and that he had placed sapphires in his eyes to show his devotion to chivalry.

The maester who wrote the book had a starkly different opinion. Symeon Star-Eyes was, more likely than not according to Maester Lewys, a sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, renowned for both his skill in combat and his abnormally bright blue eyes. Chivalry, the maester postulated, would not be introduced into Westeros until after the coming of the Andals, well after the death of Symeon.

You hadn’t been wrong when you had said that the truth was remarkably less interesting than what the singers liked to peddle out.

Far off in the distance, Aemond hears the belltower ring, indicating the turn of the hour. For the first time in his life, he feels a flash of relief that he has to meet up with his brother and nephews in the yards for sword training. While their words could be cruel, they at least were easier to understand than you were.

“I have to go,” he says, gathering up his books and notes as quickly as he can.

You hum, rising to your feet. “I should also probably go and meet up with Princess Helaena. Our septa can be awfully strict about punctuality.”

“It’s a virtue,” he replies, more out of instinct and a desire to fill the air with something than truly believing his words.

He regrets it immediately when you snort in laughter. “Perhaps you could teach us instead of her. You might be less inclined to rapping me on my knuckles when I slip up on a proverb.”

The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You can come to the library at this same time tomorrow if you want to avoid her. I wouldn’t mind.”

He would mind. He would mind very much if you showed up tomorrow with your easy smile and your bright eyes.

You don’t notice this internal conflict, though. You blink owlishly up at him, as if stunned by the offer. The silence drags on and Aemond feels that all-too-familiar sensation of humiliation and shame creeping up his neck and he opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back, but then you grin broadly at him. It lights you up entirely, brightening even this dark corner of the library.

“Thank you for the offer, my prince,” you quietly reply. “I think I might just take you up on it.”

You bow your head, dropping into a slight curtsey. Your manners are impeccable. Everything about you is designed to endear, to paint the picture of a perfect lady, one gracious and honest and kind.

He knows it's a lie. He knows that you’re hiding something fierce, something mean within you. He wishes he didn’t know that you were. He wishes he didn’t remember that snarl on your face when he had scared you, the way you had seemed ready to claw out his eyes.

He wishes you had never left the Rock.

Aemond doesn’t say any of it, doesn’t poke and prod until he can see that flash of rage that you had shown. He simply nods and prays that you don’t take him up on his offer.

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # two

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho! magicless au!

opening the door slowly, as to not make an extra amount of noise, idia hauls his tired body into the house. augh, if he's so rich, how hasn't he already hired a driver to take him to and from school? his parents said something about the importance of exercise but in his heat? unbearable. well, it wasn't as hot as it was earlier... which made idia slightly thankful for the fact he had to stay after school extra late. whatever.

the blue-haired man kicked his shoes off by the door and sighed, walking into the kitchen to see his dear brother nagging his mother while she cooked. idia made a face - when was the last time he ate something his mom made? it was usually the housekeeper... oh yeah, she's gone. "idia, you're home late..." his father merely whispers, attention stuck to his laptop. "yeah, i thought i texted you guys that i have club business to attend... oh well." idia shrugged and walked up to ortho, messing with his already messy hair. "how was it?" idia asked lowly, soon making his way back to the staircase and hoped ortho would take the hint to follow him.

"oh, it was so fun!" ortho beamed, following closely behind idia with a huge smile. "okay so firstly, we laughed at you when you left. then, we played until we both took a nap! then it was lunch..." ortho's rambles trailed off in idia's mind. as much as he loved his brother, idia couldn't really pay attention to the retelling of ortho's day. he had other things on his mind - like video games.. and the exam. opening the door to his room, idia was immediately hit with a blast of cool air from his super cool fans - he put them together himself. throwing his bag on the already messy ground and tearing off his hoodie, idia flopped on his bed as ortho continued with recounting his day. "it was so awesome! their collection was so big - it could rival yours one day, big brother!" ortho giggled.

"yeah?" is all idia could reply with, smiling just a bit. he reached his hand out to high-five ortho. "i'm glad to hear it wasn't a total snooze-fest..." ortho laughed at idia's wording. "yeah! hey - i'll be back, okay? i need to go help mom cook! she asked just for my help!" ortho gleamed and ran off back downstairs. idia rolled to his stomach and shoved his face into a pillow. she probably needed ortho's help because he has more of a clue about cooking than she does.. sad considering he's but a little baby.. a small guy, you may even say. idia pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked through the notifications. his favorite streamer went live during his mock exam - ugh... a few messages from his online friend group chat... a reminder to log in to receive 300 gems... azul's message.

it was sent a little bit ago, weird how he didn't get the notification. clicking on it, idia remained on his stomach.

azul [ 4:50 PM ]

Hey, guess what I found out? We have a fairly new student who doesn't even come to class. They were enrolled just a few months ago... does that make you feel any better about not coming to school?

idia [ 5:15 PM ]

lol who said i felt bad about it ... i prefer staying home anyway ahaha

idia quirked an eyebrow as if he was looking azul in the face.

idia [ 5:16 PM ]

anywayz why did u tell me this?? r u gonna scam them like you do to all the other newbies?

azul [ 5:17 PM ]

Scam? Everything I do is fair and clear; I don't see what you mean. I told you incase you happened to know who it was? Maybe you knew them because you also attend school online for the most part?

idia [ 5:20 PM ]

nah i dont know who they are. if u want to know them, i am NOT your guy lol ask that freak with the blond bob... hes like a professional stalker.

azul [ 5:22 PM ]

I'll pass. Floyd and Jade won't step foot near him so why would I? And no. I'm not scared of him. Just unsettled.

idia let out a heavy sigh through his nose and chortled. well, that conversation isn't going anywhere anyways. idia turned his 'do not disturb' on, turning his phone horizontally and got onto his favorite mobile game. time to grind until the sun shines!

idia felt two small hands on his side and a gentle whisper. "iddiaaaa! wake upppp! we're going to be lateeee!" the voice told him. opening one eye groggily, idia clutched his pillow harder as if the small hands would rip him from his bed at any moment. "what is it, ortho?"

ortho sighed and shook his head, clearly an act to get idia up. "we're gonna be late! you slept in and you have to take me to the babysitter! but you also have part two of your mock exams!" he said. idia sat up slowly. he couldn't smell the coffee or the poorly made breakfast his mother probably tried to make herself. ah, they must've left for work already. looking ortho up and down, it was clear to idia that his little brother wasn't lying. he was fully dressed and ready, while idia was still in bed. he really did game until the shine shone. idia threw off his blanket. "alright, alright. i'll meet you downstairs."

idia rushed to get ready and eventually made his way to meet ortho downstairs. his hoodie was half on, a mouthful of chips he had stashed in his room, and looking half dead. that was today's look. ortho made a comically dramatic frown at his brother before handing him a white envelope. "this is for the babysitter, mom said she wanted to pay them early..." idia nodded and finished getting himself together. slinging his bag on and nearly stomping his shoes on, he walked past ortho to the front door. "let's get a move on, okay?"

ortho nodded and followed. but he was right as well, idia was running late. the sun was higher in the sky then it usually is when he leaves... and it was hotter too. ortho had no problems with it, though. the walk to the babysitter's was like yesterday; hot as all hell and ortho was acting odd. idia looked down to ortho after noticing his silence. "are you... okay? you seemed so eager to get me to take you over to the babysitter's but now you're all quiet..."

ortho shook his head. "i'm just thinking. i wish i could keep this babysitter... they're so fun and they really remind me of you! actually... you two should meet!" ortho softly thought out loud. idia quirked an eyebrow. "eh? you want me to meet your TEMPORARY babysitter? that's definitely not.... necessary. plus, i'm busy..." idia replied as he shielded his face from the overbearing sun with his hand. ortho huffed. "but you two are so similar! you would really like them, i think... you know, we don't just play with toys all day... we talk too, and they are super cool and nice!"

idia didn't respond. he didn't doubt they were nice, don't babysitters have to be nice? unless they're a cliché babysitter... which is exactly what he thought. they were the hot babysitter in every media ever; so they could be mean too, just not to kids. idia shook his head to himself. maybe he's finding a reason to avoid them? he could just be scared of pretty people... but why would he even be scared of them? it's not like he HAS to talk to them daily, after his housekeeper gets back, everything will be back to normal. and why is he thinking so hard about this? why is he making up excuses not to take ortho's advice and get to know them? sure it was useless, since the two had no business together... but it would make ortho happy, right? idia fought the urge to instinctively ball his fist up... but he was holding the babysitter's pay.

speaking of which, he realized that he was suddenly at their doorstep. ortho knocked a few times and low and behold... they opened it with the same smile. "hey, ortho! hi, idia!" they greeted as ortho leaned in excitedly for a hug, which they gladly reciprocated. idia was just standing there again! he really has to stop being awkward! "u-uh, hey. my parents.. wanted me to give you... y-your pay." he said as he stuck the envelope out, a little quicker than expected and startled himself. the sweet babysitter took it. using their nail, they began to open it with a soft smile. "wow, that's way earlier than expected! thanks a ton, to your parents and you for delivering!"

idia stuttered out a reply of 'you're welcome' and managed to meet their eyes to get another good look. he made it in time to catch their reaction to seeing the money. "wha..! t-this... is mine?!" they gasped, clutching the envelope to their chest like idia would talk it back and run off, like a youtube prankster. "y-yes?" idia replied, nodding his head to which ortho laughed. strange how quiet he is when his brother and babysitter interact...

"t-this is so much, wahhh.." they trailed off. "but i'm thankful! i'll be able to raise enough money in no time~" idia tilted his head. "eh? are you... raising money for something?" he wondered out loud, making the babysitter shake their head. "well, not like.. charity, no. i'm saving up for something i want really badly, nothing important, and my parents told me i should work for it... that's all! o-oh, hey, you're on your way to school, no? you should check the time..."

idia nodded absentmindedly as he brought his phone to his face. he clicked on the display and seen the time - 7:55 - his eyes widened. "gahhh! i'm going to be late! i've gotta go!" idia's outburst startled the babysitter but all they did was smile and wave. "have fun!"

ortho brought a hand to his mouth as he giggled, just as he did the day before. "he was so definitely lost in your eyes~ that's why he's late! i thought long and hard about it ever since yesterday, i think he likes you!" ortho beamed, making their eyes widen.

"oh, you think? i don't know... but i also don't think he was looking at my eyes. if he was, i could've probably better read his emotions... he looked more scared and his stare was that of a dead fish rather than someone in love.." the babysitter laughed, making ortho shrug. "a dead fish in love."

authors note? this chapter was very... "aquz is just typing to add words" and i'm sorry about that! i wanted to make it longer and show what idia was thinking about instead of just his actions but i really do have a rambling habit,,, i hope this was up to expectations and thanks for the love on the first chapter!

[rindecisions]

Stranger Tales Part 25

Read the rest on AO3

Steve beamed a little brighter than he'd intended at Eddie's comment, feeling his cheeks warm a bit.

That smile had Eddie entirely enchanted. It felt as if the universe herself had put a spotlight on Steve. He almost forgot he was holding his ice cream cone again and opted to put it in the tray with the others before he ended up dropping it for real.

With a slightly nervous lick of his lips, Steve cocked his grin unevenly. "If it's really not, not working..." He swallowed. "Do you think I could... possibly... get a number?"

Eddie was taken aback. Even if Steve had been messing around with flirting with a guy on a dare, making an actual move was unexpected. "Twenty-three," he said before he could reel in his shit-heel.

"What?" Steve squinted.

"You asked for a number, right? So, I gave you one." He shrugged. He'd already stuck his foot in his mouth. It'd be weirder if he tried to back down.

Steve scoffed a laugh and shook his head. "No. Your number," he clarified.

Eddie chewed on his lip. "That depends," he stated smoothly, meeting Steve's eyes with a little more confidence. "Do you plan on actually using it, or is it just proof that you managed your end of the deal?"

Strangely, Steve found it a little hard to look into Eddie's focused eyes. "I'm a little undecided, honestly," he answered with an awkward huff.

The slightly bashful expression on Steve's face made Eddie's heart thud. It almost felt like Steve was seriously considering it. "Can I think about it?" He picked up the tray of cones. "I need to get these to the guys before they melt."

"Yeah, no, of course," Steve replied quickly, and gestured for him to leave.

Eddie nodded and turned away.

A concern gripped Steve's chest, and he spoke before he could think it through. "Munson."

Eddie turned back around to look at him.

"You—you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

Deep pity and sympathy washed over Eddie, and he let out a small sigh. "No, Steve. I wouldn't dream of it," he stated sincerely, and gave him another nod before leaving.

Eddie knew it was too good to be true. There was no way that Steve would ever be okay with dating a guy. He'd almost considered giving him his number too, but maybe he should just let things slide.

He met the guys out front of the comic shop, and everyone took their respective cone.

"What took you so long?" Jeff asked.

"Harrington was talking my ear off," Eddie chuckled.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Steve spent the rest of Robin's break waiting to see if Eddie would come back, and when he didn't, he felt his heart sink.

"How'd it go?" Robin asked, hanging up her bag in the back.

"Well, I did it," Steve sighed.

"By the weight of that sigh, I'm assuming it didn't go well."

"I think it went great, actually," Steve chuckled weakly.

"Then why the long face?"

"I think I blew it at the end. I was fucking stupid and—"

"No surprise there," Robin interjected with a pursed grin.

Steve looked at her flatly, unamused. "As I was saying," he grumbled. "I asked him not to tell anyone that I was flirting with him as he left," he admitted.

"Yeah. Okay. That was stupid of you."

Steve gave her a bitchy glare and sneer. "No shit."

"But hey, at least you did it," she stated congratulatorily. "I'd call that a win all on its own."

"When I asked for his number, he said he needed to think about it."

"Was that before or after you dropped the insecurity bomb on him?"

Steve groaned. "Before."

"Ouch." Robin cringed.

He sighed and rested his forehead against the cool freezer door.

"Gonna try to concuss yourself again?"

"Maybe if I hit it hard enough, I can stop being so fucking stupid."

"Not likely, but it'd be funny to watch, so don't let me stop you."

He glared at her and flipped her off.

Don't forget to vote ^-^

[malarign]

a piece of brownie

(when you finally ask him out)

contains: stranger!Felix x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! none! | wc: 0,6k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: just sum little felix drabble for y’all 😼 enjoy!

Opening the door to your local bakery, the smell of freshly taken out-of-the-oven goods hit your nose. A smile crept on your lips as you waited in line in anticipation of buying once again a piece of brownie, the cake you adored especially from this specific place. Not only because of the delicious but balanced chocolate taste but also because of the cute guy who happened to work there. Ever since he appeared you started to visit the place even more often, but with your order remaining the same: one piece of brownie.

From the distance you already spotted him: he was currently serving an older lady with his usual beam. You didn’t even know his name, yet just looking at him made every day at least a tiny bit better than before seeing his radiant smile.

His head turned your way and for a moment you thought you’d seen an unusual for him spark in the eye. But only for a moment.

“Hi, how can I help you?” he asked tilted his head, voice as low and warm as usual, making you weak in your knees.

“I’ll just have a piece of brownie,” you smiled and blushed slightly when you realized he said your last few words with you and nodded.

“Is it that good?” he asked and motioned you to the payment terminal for you to pay.

“Very good. I don’t know who’s in charge of making it but they never miss.”

“Then I guess I should try it too,” he said and handed you the little bag with a cake inside.

Taking it from him you hesitated for a moment. He noticed your expression and his smile dropped. You looked around and thankfully nobody was around, leaving just the two of you alone.

“Is everything alright?” he asked concerned.

“What’s your name?” you blurted out leaving him confused.

“I’m Felix, it’s nice to meet you…?”

“Y/n.”

His smile came back. “What a nice name. Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Felix,” you started and he nodded attentively. “I would love to know you more, would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

You were pretty shocked at your sudden wave of confidence and boldness but honestly, did you have anything to lose? You bit your lip in anticipation of his reply when he smiled shyly and blush tinted his cheeks.

“I would be more than happy to grab a coffee with you.” His reply made you breathe a sigh of relief you didn’t know were holding. He reached to the side of the cash register and handed you a piece of paper and a pen. “Can you write your number here? I’ll text you as soon as my shift ends.”

Taking both things from him you prayed he couldn’t see your shaking hands while you wrote down your number.

“Have a good day, Felix,” you said handing him your number.

“You too, Y/n.”

You walked out with a much lighter heart, still not quite believing you got your act together enough to ask him out, after months of just admiring him from the other side of the counter. Not being able to refrain from turning around to look at him you finally did. The sight made you not regret the single decision made today which was him looking fondly at the paper and hiding his face in his palms.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open)

[pan-kojiwa]

Note: The mysterious stranger following Nagi is on the move. —1 day left before the fateful encounter.

Additional details || Last part | Next part

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter V

—January 05 2025

Nagi turned his phone off after reading Y/N’s last text and got off bed, stretching his upper body.

Usually, for a game night he preferred the others coming to his place. He had more games and it was more convenient anyway. But tonight was different. He needed to see something for himself— something that’s been bothering him for a little while now.

He grabbed his phone putting it in back pocket and threw on a simple sweatshirt over a plain t-shirt, heading outside— not without saying goodbye to choki. Outside, winter’s cold wind cruelly slipped beneath his clothes biting at his skin.

However it was fine. He was used to it.

He shoved his hand in the pockets of his baggy pants sighing softly.

“- Mh.. I should’ve put on a scarf… Y/N definitely gonna nag me about that.”

Shrugging, unfazed he closed his front door heading toward Y/N place, which wasn’t to far from his.

One step at a time he lazily walked at a relaxed pace towards his destination, the wind softly blowing behind him, pushing his hair forward as the cold air invaded his lungs.

Tap. A barely perceptible noise broke the silence of the street as faint and stealthy footsteps tried to remain hidden in the calm of the night.

He’s been hearing that same sound whenever he was alone, and everywhere he went. On his way to the café to his way back at his apartment— someone was tailing him. He figured that much a while ago, and being sidelined on morning shift for an entire week only confirmed is suspicions. That was something Rin would never do unless the situation was serious or even critical— and Sae aware of it all. After all they couldn’t afford to lose the deal with the Mikage family— or it would lead to… serious repercussions with some very influential people.

A quiet sigh left his lips, his breath making little clouds in the freezing air around him. His cheeks were even slightly flushed from the cold— yet he kept walking, not minding the biting air to much.

Tap. The noise, there was it again. Subtle— almost imperceptible. However this time, the person following him seemed to slowly come out of the shadows while still attempting to be discreet.

This technique wasn’t unfamiliar to him.

It seemed like he had found him.

Tap. Seems to be a male… mid 30 maybe? Average height and around 68 kilos. That’ll do. He thought to himself.

Judging by the footsteps he knew he wouldn’t have any issue overpowering de man.

Nagi kept walking, pretending not to noticed the him, while still wearing the same nonchalant expression. Moreover, turning around now would do nothing but let the guy know he was caught, and that could be a bad thing for Sae if he was on the case. So he just waited.

Tap tap... Tap tap...

Adrenaline slowly started to flow inside his veins, sharpening his senses— his hearing becoming even more acute. The footsteps were clearer and faster as the man no longer tried to stay hidden. He was about to make his move, closing the distance between them.

Focused, Nagi began to calculate the distance between him and the man, aiming for the exact moment he’d need to react and fight back.

Tap tap tap tap!

“- YOOO Nagi, buddy! Fancy seeing you here.”

Shidou appeared in the middle of the road seemingly out nowhere running towards him and nearly crashing into him. Then, he casually threw an arm around Nagi’s neck, a wide grin beaming on his face.

Glancing at Shidou with a look of visible confusion flicking into his eyes, Nagi frowned, until the sudden realization hit him. Oh. He’s probably been here since the beginning.

Turning around he finally noticed that the man behind him was no longer there.

“- The rat took off in that alley the moment he saw me show up.”

Shidou laughed sharply, nodding toward the alleyway nearby as he removed his arm from Nagi’s shoulder.

“- I guess you’re here on Sae’s order?”

“- Yep. Shidou put his hands in his pockets a crooked smile on his face. And I guess you already knew you were being tailed?”

“- Yeah. I was trained for that after all.”

“- Handy.”

Shidou eventually took notice of how lightly Nagi was dressed in this freezing weather, but didn’t comment on it. He always do that anyway.

“- I wasn’t gonna step in since he was just following you as usual, but… He grinned as he dragged out his sentence, clearly amused by the situation. He saw everything that just happened, watching from a distance as usual—well, this time, the usual had changed a bit. Because for the first time, the “rat” tried to make a move. He had a syringe in his hand.”

Nagi lowered his head and huffed, knowing exactly what that meant. And he could already tell that it was going to be a hassle.

“- Father is dead set on getting me back huh?”

Shidou cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what Nagi meant. When he finally got it, his usual neutral smile switched into a mischievous one.

“- Oh really now? Sounds like the perfect excuse to fuck some shit up then!”

Shidou’s POV

Tag list -> @levihanmyotp @captainshindo @dontmindtheevie @choppedballoondetective

Waffle’s note: I wasn’t supposed to share this much info yet (lmao I only gave one tiny new info tho) but since I’m a bit busy rn and sae’s coming soon I thought I’d tease y’all a little bit >:3

[lolipoptheclown]

- THE RETURN OF CECIL SYPHER -

A short story about my Spooky Month OC!

Warning for gore! Also, I don't write very often, so I'm sorry if this isn't very good <:)

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A groundskeeper strolled through the graveyard in the middle of the night, checking between the rows of headstones, and behind the trees, to make sure nobody was attempting to stay after dark. He was getting closer to the far side of the fenced-in area, near the resting places of people who had passed a long time ago. This wasn’t a scary place for the man, but one thing that always made him feel uneasy was the name etched into the third headstone in this particular row. 

Cecil Sypher, 1921-1953. 

He didn’t know a lot about this guy, but he did know that Cecil was a serial killer when he was alive, his most famous killing being the time he hung a human torso from the monkey bars at the local playground, making the police go on a wild goose chase to find the rest of the body. What a sick fuck. 

The man sighed and illuminated the row of headstones with his flashlight, telling himself that there is nothing to be afraid of anymore. This asshole has been dead for… what, 60 years now? He wasn’t even alive when people had to witness those murders! He needs to stop being so paranoid and just do his job. 

As he shone the light around, the beam from his flashlight hit the grass by the killer’s grave, and he noticed something… weird. The ground was disturbed. He would’ve assumed that someone had tried to rob the grave, but it looked very recent. And he hadn’t seen anyone else around here so far tonight. He shone the light around again, his paranoia starting to get to him.

There was the crunching of dead leaves a few feet behind him, something walking at an uneven pace. He quickly whirled around to face the potential threat, shining his light directly at them.

His flashlight illuminated a pale, thin man, with dark hair and sunken eyes. He sort of wobbled as he stood, pausing his approach to shield his eyes from the bright light with one hand. 

“Woah, calm down sweetheart. I’m just taking a late-night walk.” He fixed the collar of his dirty tuxedo with his free hand, letting out a friendly chuckle. But there was something wrong with this situation. The groundskeeper knew it.

The groundskeeper lowered his flashlight from the man’s face. “I’m sorry, but you can’t be out here right now… I uh… I-I have to lock up soon.” He replied, trying to keep his tone firm and authoritative, but failing miserably. The stranger seemed to smile a little wider as he noticed the shakiness in his voice, a strange look in his eyes.

“Oh, my apologies. I haven’t been in this town for quite a while” The strange man tried to straighten up a bit, brushed off his clothes, and continued his approach. His steps were a little uneven for a few seconds, but he quickly got the hang of it and stood in front of the groundskeeper. One of the man’s eyes was partially closed and glazed over, giving the groundskeeper bad vibes.

“Well, y-you need to leave." The groundskeeper argued, praying that he wouldn’t have to escort this guy. “I need to lock up. Like… right now.” He repeated.

“Awh, why don’t you let me wander around a little more?” The stranger tilted his head, folding his bony hands together. “I could help you lock up if you need it.” He offered, adjusting his footing again so he wouldn’t fall on his face. The groundskeeper was starting to get a little frustrated. He just wanted to lock up and get the fuck away from the other man.

“No. You need to leave, right now.” The groundskeeper grabbed the stranger’s arm to lead him out of the cemetery, but was met with a kick to the stomach. He fell back, hitting his head on a nearby tombstone. He sat up to rub the back of his head, but was kicked down again. 

The stranger looked down at the groundskeeper with a disapproving frown. “You just had to be so difficult…” He muttered before stomping on the other man’s face, hard, making his head hit the tombstone again. The groundskeeper’s vision went black, and he’d never be given the chance to wake up again.

————————————————————————

Early in the morning, the authorities were called to a gory crime scene. Someone had broken off the local groundskeeper’s head, leaving it stuck on top of the cemetery’s fence, where the gates had been left unlocked. The rest of the body was currently missing, and people were trying to get the head down. Two officers were off to the side, looking for evidence and possibly more body parts.

The police found a trail of blood going through the cemetery, and followed it. The crimson path led to a headstone that was covered in more blood, bits of flesh, and small chips of bone. They didn’t find anything else except for a flashlight, and a bloody shard of porcelain from a shattered pot nearby. The pot had been next to another tombstone, previously holding a few wilted flowers, planted there by mourning loved ones. The ground next to the grave of a serial killer was disturbed, causing one officer on the scene to assume this might’ve all been caused by a grave robber being caught.

Once the head was retrieved from where it was impaled on the fence, the police started to question what they thought happened here. There was morse code carved into the face, so this kill had definitely been more than just a last-minute solution for someone who wanted to avoid the cops. 

The head was brought to the morgue, and the code on the face translated to the name of the town’s grocery store, which was thankfully closed that day. They investigated the area, and found a leg in the freezer, with two more codes carved into it. The two codes led to the old butcher shop and the park, so they continued their search. It looked like this investigation would take a while. And they still couldn’t find the murderer, who was silently watching them scramble around town and solve the puzzle that he put together for them.

————————————————————————

[a-french-coconut]

Snippet #3

A hard day of work, stealing whatever goodies they find in people's pockets, is always rewarded by a visit to Laura's bakery.

"Look what I got." Connor shows Travis all the things he managed to take, and amongst them, a watch he took off from a man's wrist. "It looks valuable, don't you think ?"

Travis takes it and grins. "Yeah, we gotta take it to the pawn shop, I'm sure we can get a great price out if it. Great job Connie !" His brother beams at him.

As always, Laura greets them with a smile, beckoning them to sit and bring them hot, home-made, sandwiches and sodas.

When they first entered the bakery a year ago, after fleeing foster care for trying to put them in different families and deciding that leaving on the streets together would be better, Laura offered them a meal, despite her business not going well at the time.

Oddly enough, it all changed one day to another, and suddenly, her shop was overflowing with customers. She decided that they were the cause of her luck and insisted on offering them meals every day.

"You know, I can offer you jobs here." Laura says when she sees their bag of stolen goods. "It would be illegal but better than relying on what you steal."

"Thanks Laura, but we like stealing things." Connor replies between munches of his food. "And we don't wanna be trouble for you."

"Yeah." Travis adds. "You already feed us, it's more than enough."

"I don't like knowing you two are alone on the streets." Laura sighs, looking at them fondly. "I would take you both under my roof but..."

"You don't have the money to do so." Travis completes, since Laura had already proposed them but they had refused. "We're fine on our own, don't worry."

And because Travis has a knack for charming people, for disarming them with a beaming smile, Laura drops the subject and leave to attend the customer entering the shop.

It's a big man, large and tall, with a hat obscuring his face.

For a reason Connor doesn't understand, he screams danger. He searches reassurance in Travis, only to find his brother looking at the same man with unease.

He's getting closer to Laura, who waits behind the counter with a pleasant smile.

"Hello sir, what can I get you ?" The man mumbles something Connor doesn't hear. "Right away sir." She disappears at the back, leaving them alone with the stranger.

"Just ignore him." Travis whispers to him. "Eat your food quickly though, he creeps me out."

The man is behind Connor, which means he has to rely on Travis to know what's happening. His brother's breath hitches. "He's looking at us."

Connor looks back and indeed, the guy is looking right at them, with...

"Travis." He whispers with a shaky voice. "He only has one eye."

But Connor blinks and suddenly, there are two eyes on the man's face.

"Connie, not the time to joke, he's seriously creeping me out."

The guy, mumbles something Connor doesn't understand.

"I'm not, I could have swore he had one eye."

"Food." This time, Connor understands.

He turns back to Travis.

Laura's voice. "Here you go sir."

It's Travis' widening eyes that make him duck, and a giant arm flies above him, hitting his brother right in the chest and sending him flying by the window.

"Connor, move !" Laura screams and his body acts on his own, dodging another hit.

All that happens next is a blur.

Travis laying on the concrete outside. Laura taking him by the arm and dragging him in the kitchens.

"No, Laura, wait, Travis is outside, we need to get him !" He whispers furiously as she drags him behind a counter. "What if the thing goes after him-" Laura puts her hand on his mouth, silencing him as the door opens.

Heavy breathing, heavy footsteps.

Stupidly, Connor thinks it's his brother.

"Travis ?" He asks, his voice muffled by Laura who's looking very white.

It's not his brother that entered the kitchens. It's a giant, with one big eye on the middle of his forehead.

"Food." The giant says, looking at them, looking at him.

With horror, Connor realises he is the food of this guy and Laura does too because she pushes him towards a door.

"Go, go, go, go." She urges him towards the exit. "Come on, Connor, let's go !"

He's at the door when the giant grabs Laura.

He's at the door when she screams in terror, when the giant looks at her and bite her.

The screams stop and Laura's body fall on the ground, intestines spilling from where the giant just ate her.

The monster licks the blood around his mouth before staring at him greedily. When he takes a step forward, Connor's body acts once again on his own behalf.

He runs out of the door, everything turns blurry, and he's in a street, one he knows but he can't be there.

It's a thirty minutes walk from the bakery, where he was a second ago.

He's dizzy.

His legs give in and he collapses on the pavement.

No, no, no, he needs to get up.

The monster is going to kill Travis if he doesn't, like he killed Laura.

He's too weak, too exhausted to move.

Travis is going to die.

He's going to be left alone, he realises, there's nobody left.

Tears silently rolls on his cheeks and he thinks he can hear Travis' distorted screams as the monster eats him.

All of this becasue of an Apple Watch 🥲, wrong thing to steal Connor.