#i'm glad the semester is over though

[billowyy]

.

[izzyy-stuff]

heyy izzy! i don’t think ive ever sent in a request to you before but i absolutely love your work so i thought i’d send something in. could you please do a roommate!taehyun fic where he accidentally walks in on you while you’re in the shower but then decides to join you which then ends up in him fucking you while you’re pressed against the cold shower wall and one leg pulled over his shoulder so he can hit deep :)

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

roommate!taehyun x fem!reader

in which what originally was supposed to be just a quick shower to help him relax takes a different turn when he walks into the bathroom and sees you already in the shower, deciding to relieve his frustration differently than he originally intended to.

wc 2.5k

warnings shower sex, unprotected sex + creampie, vaginal fingering, tiny mention of nipple play, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, pet names, softdom!taehyun, biting/marking

↪ izzy speaks... I can't believe tae had zero works until now... like that's insane. I'm glad I can finally show it to you though. The writing process for this was for someone reason extremely SLOW. Everyone thank serene for being my life saver again and helping me get through whatever writing block I was feeling while writing this.

Kang Taehyun must have been the safest choice for a roommate ever. 

Unlike the other guys in your friend group, he was calm and knew when to shut up. Taehyun could cook, making your life a lot easier when he offered to make dinner as often as he could, and he was outside the dorm most of the time, too. If he wasn’t in the library studying after his lessons ended, you would find him in the gym, keeping in shape. 

He barely went straight to your dorm after school, so you had learned to get comfortable during your alone time. From using your living room for studying and making a mess with your papers and study books all over the floor, which he would have usually pointed out and told you to keep a system, to walking around the apartment with just your underwear.

So it wasn’t unusual when you sat on the couch in your living room in just panties and an oversized shirt you found at the bottom of your closet while cleaning up last week. You were surprised when you found it, confident you’ve never bought nor worn that shirt. But as you put it on, pushing your thoughts aside as there was no possible way of it being someone else’s if it was in your closet, you realized it was more comfortable than the garments you knew you owned. 

You have gone over the math formula hundreds of times and still feel like you see it for the first time every time your eyes land on it again. It doesn’t make sense. No matter how long you stare at it, the numbers and signs seem foreign. 

You sigh, slamming the math book shut and spreading out on the couch as a sign of giving up. You would have to ask Taehyun about it after dinner. But for now, you had other things on your to-do list for the day. 

Put your and Taehyun’s clothes into the washing machine (AND THANK HIM FOR DOING IT LAST TIME!!) 

Wash up 

Learn math 

Call your mom

You mentally cross out math, pretending it never existed. Still, you know you will have to come back to it. To this day, you weren’t sure why you decided to take another math semester when you didn’t have to. You were naive when you listened to your parents and signed up for “the only important class you will need in the future.” You had to scoff every time now when you remembered your mother’s words, knowing you wouldn’t ever need the formulas you were learning. 

Sighing, you get up from the couch and look around the living room. Looking at it now, you understand why Taehyun always wants you to have your work organized. It was a mess. 

Your fingers run through your hair before you pick up a few of your books and put them aside in the corner of the table so that other people can still use it. It also reminds you that you should clean around the house with Taehyun soon. 

But for now, there was the current to-do list you had to go through. 

You grab Taehyun’s clothes basket from his room, as you did many times before, kicking the door behind you so it would close before continuing towards your shared bathroom. 

Having a shared bathroom might have been the only disadvantage of living with Taehyun. You both tried to search for a bigger place so you could each get your own, but once you saw the prices, you both decided it was only a petite inconvenience. 

It doesn’t take you long to sort out all of his and your clothes by colors, leaving Tae’s underwear in the basket for him to do later on his own. You don't mind doing his laundry, just like he doesn't mind doing yours, but there are still limits to what you are willing to do for him. Even though those lines sometimes seem blurry in your eyes.

You aren't sure when or how it happened, but lately, you've found yourself wanting to step over some of the lines you had set for yourself when you first decided to room with Taehyun.

Maybe it was because of how comfortable you got with each other after half a year of living together. Perhaps it was because Tae had become your best friend over the years you knew him. Or, more likely, it was actually because of the amount of times you had seen him shirtless.

“We are friends, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant or something just because I am rooming with a guy. And you have met him many times. You know how Tae is.” You remember the call you had with your mom after you moved in, rethinking all your words. You were so sure back then that nothing could ever happen between the two of you, but a small part of you always wished for something else. 

You snap out of your thoughts, pressing the start button on your washing machine with a sigh. You step over the pile of white clothing you had prepared for the next wash, getting to the shower. You pull down your panties and shirt, hanging them on the empty peg beside your towel. 

♡⸝⸝ 

Taehyun was too exhausted to go to the gym tonight. He had enough. From missing lunch because he lost track of time while reviewing for his upcoming exam to completely forgetting about an assignment due last night. He just wanted to go home and relax for a bit before he would have to fall into the endless circle of studying again. 

So when he got through the door of your shared apartment, his first thought was to shower and go to sleep. He didn’t think much of what you were doing as he took down his shoes. Honestly, that was what he was the least worried about. 

Taehyun shakes his head as his eyes land on your books on the table, but then a smile creeps up his lips. You did listen when he scolded you about making a mess, after all. 

He looks around the apartment, trying to find you with his eyes. Eventually, his sight lands on your room, assuming you didn’t hear him coming in and were busy with your studies, so you didn’t come out to greet him. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He doesn’t even properly register the sound of the washing machine as he walks toward the bathroom. For the first time in a while, his mind is finally blank, making him relax as he opens the door. 

Neither of you really realizes what’s going on until you drop down your shampoo, your eyes wide as you quickly try to cover your naked body upon noticing your roommate in the room. 

Taehyun’s cheeks could be mistaken for a tomato as his eyes travel from the bottom of your body to your face, swallowing everything he wants to say before even opening his mouth, stuttering. “I– shit, fuck– uhm, sorry,” he blurts out quickly, turning around so he wouldn’t face you. He doesn’t leave, though. 

 You can’t hear your own breath, nor his, as you stare at his back, your mind, unlike Tae’s, clouded with thoughts. “I wanted to shower. I’m– I didn’t know you were in here,” he says, you think. You’re unsure if any of the words actually reach your ears or if it’s all just in your head. Maybe he is just a figment of your imagination, too. He isn’t real. He isn’t standing in the bathroom with his back turned to you. 

“I’ve been so out of it today I just– I’m not sure what I am saying, to be honest. I didn’t mean to, though–” 

You cut him off, your words echoing in his ears. Still, he doesn’t believe what he just heard. “What?” He asks, his boba eyes making you feel weak in the knees as he turns around to face you again. “You wanted to shower and relax your mind, right?” You repeat half your question, your hands slowly falling to your sides. Taehyun bites his bottom lip, fighting all his inner demons to keep his eyes on yours. “Want to join me then?” 

You’re not sure what happens next. It’s all blurry in your mind. But the next thing you know, Taehyun’s hands are all over your body, “helping you to wash up,” as he said, but you both know that’s not what it really is when his hand just so innocently squeezes your breast. 

Your breath shakes as you feel him groan against your shoulder, sending shivers through your body. You tilt your head to the side, biting your bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips as he kisses your collarbone, his cold fingers playing with your nipples as if he had touched them thousands of times before, as if he wasn’t afraid at all of the sudden intimacy. 

“Tae,” you breathe out, and he only hums in response, his lips on your neck. “Are you okay with this?” He asks carefully, making it almost impossible for you to tell him no. So you nod, whining when his fingers trace down from your chest to your legs, making their way to your clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles. 

“S-shut up,” your voice shakes as you try to grind against his fingers, muffling your moan when he removes his hand. Your pussy clenches around nothing when your name leaves his lips, his kisses moving lower on your back until you hear him kneel behind you. You swallow a lump in your throat when his hands wrap around your thighs, the water drops on your back sending shivers through your body. “Mind bending over for me, sweetheart?” 

It feels unreal. Your roommate’s head between your legs, eating you out as if you were supposed to be tonight’s dinner, was all a little too much. You weren’t sure how long you could last. “Wait– I’m–” you try to speak up but end up swallowing everything you wanted to say when his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You gasp, your hand slowly sliding down on the bathroom tiles as you begin to lose strength. You don’t think he notices, or at least he doesn’t do anything about it. His fingers pump into you so effortlessly, too. Somehow, it feels like he has been in your cunt many times before. 

Your first orgasm of the night is on Taehyun’s fingers, preparing you for himself. “Doing so well,” he coos, slowly standing up. It takes no time for his lips to find your neck again, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. “‘S too much,” you whine, turning your head around to see him. His boba eyes are soft, full of love even, you’d dare to say. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes out when his eyes land on yours, immediately kissing you. You fall into the kiss, turning around to face him. Taehyun takes a step forward, making you press your back against the wet tiles. The water dripping between the two of you doesn’t seem to bother him a bit as he wraps your leg around his waist. 

You are still kissing him when he aligns himself at your entrance, thrusting into you without a warning. You gasp, breaking the kiss. His lips chase after yours again, but you’re too busy trying to get used to him to kiss him back. “So good,” he praises you again, his mouth moving to your jaw and chin. You tilt your head to the side, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he thrusts into you again, starting slowly, with his eyes on yours to make sure you are okay. 

You nod to him instinctively, and he thrusts into you right away, this time faster, harsher. It doesn’t take long for him to set a comfortable speed, and you can feel all his stress in each thrust. “I needed this,” he mumbles. “Needed you.” 

It almost passes unnoticed by you, just some out-of-mind praises, but you catch onto it, and his words get stuck in your head. “N–Needed me?” Your question comes out as a broken moan, making him groan. “The whole day,” he agrees, only thrusting harder. “Everyone’s been getting on my nerves,” he explains. “Couldn’t wait to come home to you.” 

The ticklish feeling in your stomach makes you uneasy. You’re not sure if it’s another orgasm building up or just an after-effect of his words. Honestly, it might be both. But before you can think about it properly, another thrust comes in, with a few mumbles about how perfect you are before you feel his speed slowing down again, letting you know he is reaching his limit, too. 

It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts before he cums inside you, both of you too into the moment to realize he should pull out. Taehyun’s head falls onto your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop holding your leg up, assuring himself he still feels you on his body. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathes out, and before you can answer, you feel his teeth digging into the skin on your shoulder. 

You gasp, “What was that for?” He only hums in response, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. “A mark,” he finally mutters, making your eyes widen. “Wanted to mark you.” He says it so casually, while his hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit slowly again. You swallow a moan as his finger makes its way into your pussy again, feeling the mixture of his and your cum sliding down your thigh. You need another shower. 

You stay still for a bit, his head resting on your shoulder and your leg wrapped around his waist while your fingers play with his hair to assure him you are still there, not saying anything. 

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself immediately. You keep your eyes on his naked body, rethinking your next moves. “I need your help with math,” you proclaim quietly like you normally would. “I’ll gladly help you,” he nods with a smile. So happy, and for what? He was never rude about it when you asked for his help, but it wasn’t like he would be excited, either. This time, however, he makes you question what’s going on in his mind. 

“Here,” he says, the same smile still on his lips as he hands you your shirt and panties. “I didn’t know you were already wearing my stuff, but I can’t say I would complain,” he teases you, and it all finally clicks. Of course, that’s why you didn’t remember owning the shirt. It wasn’t yours in the first place. “Uhm–” you panic, trying to find a good excuse, but it’s already too late because all Taehyun can think about is the adorable blush on your cheeks.

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[bee-wg]

PROLOGUE:

Our family isn’t too big. Ever since my grandparents moved to their cottage by the lake, It's just been the three of us. I don't even bring my teammates or friends home. And all the peacefulness is about to change. 

“Ahh Shit- Sorry!” the fumbling buffoon said. 

“Language, sweetheart. David! Could you help him pick it up? I'm tidying up the kitchen,” My mom replied. 

“Coming!” My dad sprints down the stairs. 

“Oh, Pumpkin, you're all grown up! Are you prepared for the semester?” Dad gestured to the culinary tools scattered across the floor. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry about the mess,” he replied. The “Pumpkin” in question is my cousin, Theo. He's about to attend a college in the city to study culinary arts… or something. And, of course, he’s sharing the room with me. Not for long, though. I have a few buddies who have invited me to share a room with them. They reek, but it's a necessary evil. 

“Jay,” my dad asked, nudging me, “Remember when you guys used to play house together every summer?” 

“Yes, then he bit me and we never talked again,” I deadpanned. 

“Oh come on, he was just a kid,” Dad retorted. 

No, he wasn't. He was a little demon that stole my pretend credit card. My hand still itches thinking about that vicious attack. 

I put down Theo’s luggage and bit back the argument. “I'll go back to the car to see what’s left.” 

“Alright bud, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He could probably thank me by asking what happened at football camp, but what do I know? It's not like we haven't talked about football the entire summer. We could be doing that right now, on the deck with some ice-cold beer. But the twinky little “Pumpkin” needs help, and I have the muscle for it. 

God, I wish the summer was over already.

***

“Hahahaha Exactly! I have never seen Chloé like that before.” Dad laughed.

“Right? Who knew mom had sass in her.”

Mom's competitiveness was kicked off by Theo's presence. The kitchen has basically been a war zone for the past two weeks.

Looking down at my watch, the light flashes on.

6 kilometres down, 5 more to go.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good morning run with Dad like this one. The ocean breeze flowing past my hair and the faint rays of sunrise brought back some old memories. 

Regulating my breathing, we slowed down for a second.

“Damn, son - your stamina has gotten so much better this past year.”

“The football camp really made you put up 20 pounds of pure muscles too, I’m glad I recommended you there.” Dad beamed proudly at me.

“You’re not too bad yourself, for an aging old man.”

I still get the same rush every time he compliments me. It’s like a reassurance that I’m doing something right.

“Hahahaha, you won’t be saying that when you’re one foot in your 40s; it’s basically death by fossilization.”

Dad has always been modest with his body, but everyone who knows him either admires his body, wants him, or is jealous of him and I am the same. Ever since high school I’ve been inspired to be like him. Even with the 15 pounds of muscle I have over him, I’m still lacking in so many ways. He just has the confidence to own it.

“Want some water?”

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks.” I took over the ice-cold bottle.

“About that training camp, I should request the school board to have the team register next summer for the training course. High school kids these days don't care about sports as much no more.” Dad said

“Speaking of which, remember your friend Lancaster who got held back for two years?”

“Yeah, Avery. He used to scold me when I didn’t take the nutrition classes with him. Haven’t hung with him in a while though.”

“Well, he probably won’t scold anymore. The kid got too cocky after getting a full sports scholarship and gained 70 pounds of fat in the summer. The university probably revoked the funds. Hope he didn't take it too hard.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I didn’t expect it to be him out of anyone. He was a damn good receiver.”

We resumed the pace, avoiding some rogue cyclists on the way.

Crazy to think the weight could creep up on Avery Lancaster of all people. I should watch out for myself too. I have good genes from dad so it probably will never happen, but the new influx of delicious food from Theo and my mom’s little competition definitely doesn’t help. At least it keeps the brat out of my room.

“Dad, I think I’m not going to move in with Brad and the guys.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Well first of all, as much as I love them, the guys stinks. Second of all, Theo is not as much of a blood-sucking gremlin as he was before. And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you guys.”

“Plus, How can I leave when the thing with mom just got interesting.”

“Staying for the family drama, huh?” He chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you for as long as you want, Jay. Truth be told, your mom has been crying about it for weeks. We’re both not ready to say goodbye too.”

“Tell you what, Chloe and Theo probably have some fancy lasagnas waiting for us back home; let's cut through the forest and head back early to celebrate.” He said, practically drooling.

“Lasagnas for breakfast?”

“Wait, You just want the Lasagnas. Don’t you?”

“Hahaha, Maybe.”

“Well, don’t get too drawn in, or you’ll end up as Hansel in the candy house.” 

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

That would be funny to imagine though, cause Dad is anything but a glutton.

Chapter 1 ->

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[bodyswapmischief]

The Height of Holiday Magic: A Very Meyers Christmas

@thegreatstoryteller , it's my time to return the favor. Another annual body swap and another story I hope you enjoy!

Henry gripped the steering wheel tightly as the snow-covered road stretched endlessly ahead. The rhythmic hum of the car's engine was soothing, a stark contrast to the churning thoughts in his head. He was glad to be heading home after months of college. Winter break meant cozy evenings, his mom’s famous hot cocoa, and the familiar scent of pine and firewood filling the house.

But beneath the excitement, there was a nagging weight pressing on his chest. It always surfaced when he thought of his dad. Locke was everything Henry wasn’t. Compared to Henry’s 5’6" thin and frail frame. Locke was 6'4 and strong, with a natural confidence that drew people to him. Growing up, Henry had idolized his father. But as years passed, admiration turned into something more complicated.  

He glanced at his hands on the wheel. Dainty hands that were connected to an equally soft body. “Why couldn’t I have gotten his genes instead of Mom’s?” he sighed, his voice filled with quiet frustration. The thought made him clench his jaw. His mother, kind and petite, had passed down her smaller frame to him. He was constantly reminded of it every time he literally looked up at his father. “What’s wrong with me?” he whispered.  

Outside, the snowflakes danced in the wind, oblivious to the turmoil in the car. Henry pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching softly over the fresh layer of snow. The sight of the house, its windows glowing warmly against the winter night, brought a flicker of comfort. He parked the car and sat for a moment, staring at the front door. Inside were his parents, eager to see him. His mother’s hugs always felt like safety, but his father… 

He grabbed his duffel bag, stepped out into the icy air, and made his way to the door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and his mother’s beaming face greeted him.  “Henry!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. Her petite frame barely came up to his chest, but her embrace was as strong as ever.  “Hi, Mom,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Come in, come in. You’ll freeze out here!” she said, ushering him inside.  

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around him, the scent of baked goods and pine filling his senses. Locke appeared in the hallway, his imposing frame nearly filling the doorway.  “There’s my boy,” Locke said with a grin, his voice deep and hearty. He clapped a hand on Henry’s shoulder, and though the gesture was light, it felt like a small reminder of the difference in their builds.  “Hey, Dad,” Henry replied, forcing his smile to stay in place.  

They settled into the living room, Henry sinking into the couch while his parents took their usual spots. His mother peppered him with questions about school, friends, and the drive home, her voice warm and comforting. Locke chimed in occasionally, asking about his grades and plans for the future.  

“Now that I'm settled in college, I was thinking of joining the gym and maybe a sports club..” Henry rushly added. Locke looked at his son and sighed, “Henry you do know I'm proud of you. You’re a smart guy. You should stick to that. The whole academic route.” Those words stung Henry. Even though Locke meant then to praise his son's natural talent in academia, all Henry could hear was that his dad would never be proud of him.

“I got a 3.8 GPA this semester,” Henry said, trying to sound proud.  “That’s great, son,” Locke said sincerely, nodding. “You’ve been working hard.”  But even as Locke’s words carried genuine pride, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. There was a gap between them, one he didn’t know how to bridge. As a boy, Henry could recall his dad, hoping he would grow up to be a jock. But, no matter what, Henry showed an ineptitude for anything athletic. Puberty was the final nail on the coffin. He wanted to impress his dad, but it was like the universe made that dream impossible. 

Henry’s mother sensed the shift in his mood and quickly changed the subject to holiday plans, but the damage was done. Henry felt himself withdrawing, sinking deeper into the couch.  Locke watched his son quietly. He didn’t push further, in fear of making things worse. The conversation with his parents wound down, and Henry excused himself to head upstairs. The long drive had left him drained, and unpacking his things was enough to keep his mind occupied, at least for a while. Yet, as he folded clothes and placed books on the desk in his childhood bedroom, his thoughts lingered on the quiet tension he always felt when it came to his dad.  

After unpacking, Henry hadn’t realized how much time had passed. The muffled sound of voices and laughter drifted up from downstairs. Curious, he walked quietly to the staircase. His dad’s friends had come over, as they often did for their usual drink nights. Peeking, as he sat on the top step, Henry saw his dad seated in the living room with three other men. They spoke loud, half-empty beers in hand, their banter filled with the easy familiarity of lifelong friendships.  

“Ah, it’s good to have the kids back, huh?” one of the men said, grinning.  “Yeah,” another chimed in. “All our boys are home. You know what we should do? Get them together for some basketball. Just like the old days.”  The group erupted in laughter, but then one of them nudged Locke. “Well, except for your kid, Locke. Henry’s not exactly varsity material, is he?” The words were a gut punch, but Henry stayed frozen in place, listening.  

“Remember that one time we tried to play three-on-three, and Henry tripped over his own feet?” Another added with a chuckle. “Poor kid.”  Henry’s chest tightened as the laughter rang out. He felt rooted to the spot, caught between anger and humiliation.  Locke held up a hand, his laughter fading. “Hey,” he said firmly, his tone quiet but resolute. “My son might not be a jock, but he’s smart. Real smart. And that means more to me than any game ever could.”  

The room fell silent for a moment, the men shifting awkwardly in their seats. Locke’s expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes.  Henry swallowed hard and retreated quietly to his room. His father’s words should have been comforting, but all he could focus on was the hurt in Locke’s face when he said them.  

Henry sat on the edge of his bed, his mind replaying the scene downstairs. The laughter, the casual mockery, and even his father’s defense of him. It all twisted inside him. He stared at his reflection in the small mirror on his wall. His scrawny frame mocked him as much as the voices of his dad’s friends.  He clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. “Why can’t I just be different?” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t I make him proud?”  

The thought bubbled up before he could stop it, slipping from his lips like a whispered prayer. “I wish I had the kind of body that would make anyone proud… the kind of body Dad could brag about.”  For a moment, nothing happened. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of the wind outside. Henry sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. In a sense of a familiar defeat, he went to sleep off his frustration. But the night would not play out like so many times before. The air in the room seemed to shimmer faintly as though responding to his words. A gift from an unseen force was being gifted. 

---------------------------------------------------

Henry woke with a stiff haze.. As he moved, he noticed an unfamiliar sensation of weight and strength in his limbs. The bed beneath him felt larger, firmer than he was used to, and the light streaming through the window hit walls he didn’t recognize. Confused, he sat up, his movements sluggish as though his body didn’t quite respond the way it should. He blinked, taking in his surroundings. He seemed to be in a hotel room and a nice one at that. 

“What…?” he muttered, his voice deeper, resonating in his chest.  A startle that made him grab his own throat. His hands felt strong, and his throat was thicker. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and as his feet hit the floor, sooner then they should. He realized they were larger, much larger. His hands, too, were broad and calloused, veins prominent across their surface.  

Heart pounding, he stumbled to the full-length mirror across the room. What stared back at him wasn’t his reflection. Instead, a towering, shirtless, muscular figure filled the 7’1" frame. Short blond hair, piercing eyes, and a physique that radiated athleticism, it was the body of Meyers Leonard, the professional basketball player. Henry’s breath caught in his throat as he raised his hands, watching the reflection do the same. He flexed experimentally, the muscles in his arms rippling with ease.  

“This… this can’t be real,” he whispered, his voice still unfamiliar.  Henry took a step back from the mirror, still reeling from the sight of his reflection. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath his fingertips. His pecs, broad and defined, moved subtly with even the smallest shift in his posture. He trailed his hands down to his abdomen, marveling at the ridged firmness of his abs.  

“Holy…,” he breathed, unable to finish the sentence.  He flexed his biceps experimentally, watching them swell. His fingers traced the veins that ran like rivers across his forearms, his skin taut over powerful muscles.  The height was another shock. He turned and walked to the door, each step heavy yet controlled. The ceiling felt closer, the furniture smaller. His perspective on the world had shifted dramatically. 

Standing near the bed, he glanced down at his legs. They were tree trunks of muscle, powerful and sturdy. The sheer size of them was astonishing. He bent down to touch his calves before sitting back on the edge of the bed.  He leaned forward, pulling one foot onto his knee. His jaw dropped.  

“Look at these things,” he muttered, holding his foot up for inspection. The size dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined. His feet were massive, the kind that filled shoes designed for giants. He set his foot down and spread his legs, resting his hands on his knees. His thighs were so large, making the usual posture of sitting feel entirely different.  

Henry’s heart raced as he tried to process it all. This body wasn’t just strong; it was a machine engineered for athleticism. He could feel the power in every movement, the effortless grace and control that came with it.  “This is insane,” he whispered. 

Henry’s startled reflection still stared back at him when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He turned to grab it, fumbling slightly with the device in his massive hands.

The screen lit up with a message:

Coach Johnson: Don’t be late. Practice starts at 11. Big game tonight. Let’s show them what you’re made of.

His stomach dropped. A game? Tonight? “Oh, no,” he muttered, pacing the room. “I can barely dribble a ball, let alone play in a professional game!” Panic surged through him as the implications hit. If this was really Meyers Leonard’s life, any misstep could cost him his career. Henry felt the weight of the responsibility pressing down on him. But, he couldn’t just stay in the room and do nothing. “Okay, okay. Start small,” he told himself, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Shower. Get cleaned up. Maybe I’ll figure out what to do after that.”

He made his way to the lavish hotel bathroom. The shower was enormous, with a rainfall showerhead and plenty of room for someone of Meyers’ stature. A shower that would have dwarfed his original body. As the warm water cascaded over him, washing away his anxiety bit by bit, something strange began to happen. Echos of familiarity crept into his mind. With eyes closed, he reached for the soap instinctively. It was as if he had already known the layout of the shower from a previous use. “Wait.” He questioned. His tested this feeling. His mind was thinking of what he'd wear when he got out. To his surprise, memories of clothes he packed entered his mind. 

Stepping out of the shower and drying himself,  Henry felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could figure this out. He dressed quickly, slipping into a classic white T-shirt and black dock shorts that felt strange yet familiar. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at how perfect the fit was. Each piece fitted perfectly, tailored to accommodate Meyers’ broad shoulders and long limbs. Without thought, he found the keys to Meyers’ car on the dresser.  

“This is all mine now,” he murmured, glancing at a mirror before heading out.It was all part of Meyers Leonard’s life, and now, somehow, his. He headed to the parking structure, his jaw dropping at the sight of the car parked where his memories told him he parked. A sleek, luxury SUV gleamed under the overhead lights, its chrome accents catching his eye. “Wow,” Henry whispered, running a hand over the smooth surface before climbing in.  The interior was just as impressive; leather seats, advanced tech displays, and a faint scent of cologne mixed with the smell of the new car.

As he adjusted the seat, he realized he couldn’t quite make himself comfortable. “Man, even this is a tight fit,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly to accommodate his long legs and broader shoulders. The steering wheel felt smaller in his hands, and he had to angle his knees just right to fit under the dash. Despite the snug space, the car started smoothly, its engine purring with power. As Henry pulled out of the garage, a sense of familiarity settled over him again. He hadn’t seen the practice facility before, yet he knew exactly where to go.  

He navigated the streets with ease, as though the route had been etched into his memory. The city around him felt both foreign and strangely recognizable, adding to the surrealness of the situation. “This is insane,” he said aloud, the deep resonance of Meyers’ voice still catching him off guard. By the time he pulled into the facility’s parking lot, Henry’s nerves were back. The sprawling building loomed ahead, and he knew he was about to face something completely out of his depth.  

Henry stepped out of the car, his nerves flaring as he saw a group of tall, athletic men gathered near the entrance. His coach and teammates were already there, chatting and stretching, their voices echoing in the cool morning air. One of them glanced his way. “About time, Leonard,” the man called out, grinning. Henry raised a hand awkwardly in response, forcing a casual smile. His heart pounded in his chest as he hurried inside. He had no idea what these people expected from him. He barely knew how to hold a basketball, let alone keep up with professionals.  

Inside the locker room, he found his assigned locker. His practice clothes were neatly folded, waiting for him. Henry fumbled a bit, pulling on the oversized jersey and shorts that fit his massive frame perfectly. The shoes were enormous, yet they slid on with ease, feeling like an extension of his body. “Alright, here goes nothing,” he muttered, stepping out of the locker room.  The gym was massive, the polished floor gleaming under the bright lights. The other players were already warming up, dribbling, shooting, and passing with an ease that made Henry’s stomach churn. He grabbed a ball from the rack and hesitated.  

As he dribbled experimentally, something happened. His hands moved instinctively, controlling the ball with precision. His feet adjusted to the rhythm, and his body shifted effortlessly into a stance that felt natural, even though it shouldn’t have been. “Leonard! Let’s go!” Coach Johnson barked, motioning for him to join a drill. Henry jogged onto the court, his steps fluid and confident despite his nerves. The drill started, and he found himself weaving through cones, making passes, and sinking shots with astonishing accuracy.  

His body moved on its own, each motion guided by muscle memory. He was faster, stronger, and more coordinated than he had ever imagined. As the practice continued, he found himself keeping and more. He was a part of the team. He executed plays with ease, his passes crisp and precise, his shots smooth. Henry grinned, breathing hard but exhilarated. The sheer athleticism of this body, the power and control. It was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt like he belonged.

Practice wrapped up with a final whistle, and Henry found himself drenched in sweat but riding a wave of confidence he hadn’t felt in years. He began to shower and change back into his clothes. And, for a moment, he forgot the strangeness of his situation. He wasn’t Henry anymore. He was Meyers Leonard, an athlete at the top of his game.

“Yo, Leonard!” one of the players called, slapping him on the back. “We’re hitting up Joey’s for lunch. You in?” Henry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Yeah, sure!” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. The group headed out to a local sports bar, laughing and joking as they piled into their cars. Henry followed. Noting how natural he belong with these other tall men. These were the kind of guys who would’ve made him feel invisible back in his old life. Now, he was one of them. 

At the bar, they claimed a large booth, ordering burgers, wings, and beers. Henry found himself laughing along with their stories, his deep voice blending seamlessly into the conversation. “Man, I hate these December games,” one of the guys grumbled, shaking his head. “Working this close to Christmas sucks.” 

“Tell me about it,” another chimed in. “At least we get a couple of days off after tonight. You heading home for the holiday, Leonard?” Henry froze for a split second, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh, yeah,” he said, keeping his tone even. “I’ve got a flight tomorrow morning. Gonna rush back to see the family.” The table nodded in approval, and someone added, “Good for you, man. Your wife must be thrilled. And the kid, how are they doing?”

Henry forced a smile, feeling a bead of sweat form on his temple. He hadn’t even thought about Meyers’ family until now. “Oh, uh… they’re great,” he said, scrambling internally for details. “Really looking forward to seeing them.” Thankfully, the conversation moved on quickly, and Henry relaxed. As they joked and shared stories, flashes of Meyers’ life surfaced in his mind again. He remembered a ticket confirmation, Meyers had indeed booked a flight home for tomorrow.

Henry left the bar with his teammates, his laughter and easy banter masking the swirl of emotions within him. The day had been a whirlwind of experiences, and as the game approached, he felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Back at the arena, Henry threw himself into Meyers’ pregame routine. He followed the warm-up drills with precision, leaned into the stretches, and even mirrored some of his teammates’ rituals. The muscle memory guided him effortlessly, and yet, a part of him couldn’t shake how surreal it all felt.

As he sat in the locker room before the game, Henry took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. The energy around him was electric, teammates hyping each other up, coaches delivering final strategies, and the hum of the crowd just outside. But for Henry, the moment felt still. He pulled out Meyers’ phone, thumbing through the gallery. Photos of Meyers’ wife, her warm smile lighting up the frame. Pictures of a baby boy  followed.

“This is my life now,” Henry whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe the sheer luck that had fallen on him. A loving family, a thriving career, a body built for greatness. But then, his thoughts turned to his own family. His real family. The ones who wouldn’t recognize him now, who had no idea what had happened to him. Did he still exist to them? Was the real Meyers in his body. The idea made his stomach churn. Was Meyers experiencing the same confusion and disorientation that Henry had? Dealing with the insecurities and struggles Henry had left behind?

Henry shook his head, trying to focus. “One step at a time,” he muttered, gripping the phone tightly. He needed to get through the game tonight. Everything else would have to wait. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Henry stepped onto the court. The bright lights, the energy in the air, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His nerves had melted away the moment the game began, replaced by a rush of adrenaline and focus. He moved with the flow of the game, his body responding instinctively. Every pass, every jump, every sprint felt natural, like he’d been doing this his entire life, at least, Meyers had.

The game was intense, a back-and-forth battle that kept everyone on edge. Henry found himself thriving in the competition, feeding off the energy of his teammates and the crowd. He loved the camaraderie, the unspoken communication on the court, the shared goal of victory. “Leonard!” a teammate shouted, and Henry snapped to attention, catching a pass and immediately spotting an opening. Without hesitation, he made a crisp, perfectly timed pass to the team’s star player. The crowd held its breath as the ball soared through the air. The player caught it, squared up, and shot just as the buzzer sounded. The ball sailed cleanly through the hoop.

Swish.

The stadium erupted in cheers. Henry stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding as he processed what had just happened. They’d won. His teammates swarmed the court. He was wrapped into the celebration. In the locker room, the celebration continued. Music blasted, players danced and laughed, and Henry found himself caught up in the revelry. He leaned back against his locker, a grin spreading across his face as he watched his teammates. He loved this feeling, the teamwork, the exhilaration of victory, the shared triumph. It was everything he’d dreamed of but never thought he’d have.

As he toweled off and joined the others, someone handed him a drink, and they raised a toast to the night’s win. Henry clinked glasses with the team, laughing and savoring the moment. For a brief time, all the questions and doubts faded away. He wasn’t just pretending to be Meyers Leonard. He was Meyers Leonard. With the locker room celebration wound down, one of the players clapped Henry on the back and grinned. “Hey, Leonard, we’re hitting up Revolution to celebrate. You in?”

Henry hesitated, feeling a strange, instinctive pull of reluctance in his chest. It was as though Meyers’ body itself was signaling that this wasn’t something he’d normally do. Maybe Meyers was more of a straight-laced family man. But Henry shook off the hesitation. This was his life now, his body. And for once, he wasn’t going to hold back. “Yeah, I’m in,” he said with a grin, his deep voice cutting through the noise.

The team piled into cars, and soon Henry found himself stepping into a pulsating nightclub. The atmosphere hit him like a wave, the flashing lights, the pounding bass, the press of bodies moving to the rhythm. It was chaotic and exhilarating. He followed his teammates to a VIP section, where drinks were already waiting. Henry grabbed a beer and took a swig, letting the alcohol amplify the buzz of victory still thrumming through him.

As the night wore on, the vibe became electric. People recognized the players, cheering and congratulating them. For the first time, Henry was at the center of attention, not as an awkward, unnoticed college kid, but as a confident, admired athlete. Girls approached, smiling and flirting, their eyes wide with excitement. Henry couldn’t believe it. These women weren’t just talking to him; they were drawn to him.

The chaotic energy of the club, the high from the win, the drinks, it all mixed into a heady concoction. Before he knew it, a woman with striking eyes and a bright smile was leaning close, her hand resting on his chest. They exchanged a few playful words, though Henry couldn’t quite hear her over the music. Then it happened. She tilted her head, her lips brushing against his. It was tentative at first, but Henry leaned in, letting the moment take over. Their kiss deepened, the crowd around them fading into a blur of lights and sound.

For a fleeting moment, Henry’s mind raced. Was this what Meyers would do? What about his wife and kid? But he pushed the thoughts aside. Right now, he wasn’t worried about Meyers or his responsibilities. This was his night, his life, and he was claiming it.

Henry was fully immersed in the moment, his confidence swelling as he bantered and flirted with the women who kept gravitating toward him. For the first time in his life, he felt like the charismatic, confident center of attention. The girl he’d been kissing leaned in, laughing at something he said, and he flashed her an easy smile. The flashing lights and pounding music made the entire night feel like a surreal dream, one he wasn’t ready to wake up from.

But then a voice cut through the haze. “Yo, Leonard!” one of his teammates called out, making his way through the crowd. “What the hell are you doing, man?” Henry froze, turning to see two of his teammates approaching. One of them looked serious, his brow furrowed in disbelief, while the other was grinning, clearly amused. “You’ve got a wife, dude,” the serious one said, crossing his arms. “You forget about her or something?”

Henry opened his mouth, scrambling for an explanation, but the grinning teammate cut in. “Relax, man,” he said, clapping Henry on the shoulder. “Let him have some fun. This is what being a star is all about!” The serious one shook his head. “That’s not the Leonard I know. You’re always talking about how much you love your wife and kids, and now you’re out here acting like ...  this?”

Henry felt a wave of shame and panic rise in his chest. He hadn’t considered how his behavior might look to the people who actually knew Meyers. But then the grinning teammate chimed in again. “C’mon, it’s one night. Let the guy enjoy himself. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s taking this seriously, right?” Henry forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “Yeah, yeah, just blowing off some steam after the game. No big deal.”

The serious teammate didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and turned back toward the bar. “Just… don’t do something you’ll regret, alright?” As the teammate walked away, the other one leaned in, still smirking. “You’re not usually like this, but honestly? Kinda refreshing. Feels like you’re finally loosening up. Keep it up, man.” Henry watched him leave, the girl at his side tugging at his arm, trying to pull him back into the moment. But his excitement was starting to wane. His teammates’ reactions had shaken him, reminding him that no matter how much fun he was having, this wasn’t really his life.

Henry gently pulled away from the girl, forcing a tight smile as he muttered something about needing a moment. He didn’t wait for her response. The swirling guilt in his chest was too heavy, too consuming, to stay in the noise and chaos of the club. Slipping past the throngs of people, he found his way outside. The cool night air hit his face, but it did little to calm the storm in his mind. He leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, his broad chest rising and falling as the weight of the evening bore down on him.

He wiped his face, only to realize his eyes were wet. Tears? He hadn’t even noticed. He turned away from the bouncer at the door, hiding his expression as he struggled to pull himself together. The memory of that kiss played over and over in his mind. He hadn’t thought twice about it at the time, but now it felt like a betrayal. Not just to Meyers’ wife, but to the life this man had built; a life Henry was intruding on.

“This isn’t fair,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the muffled bass of the club. He had everything he’d ever wanted: strength, confidence, popularity, respect. The type of body that commanded attention, the life of a successful athlete. And yet, standing there under the cold streetlights, he felt hollow. This wasn’t his body. This wasn’t his life. It was Meyers’ life, carefully constructed and full of relationships and responsibilities Henry didn’t know how to handle.

His thoughts drifted to his family; his real family. His own connection that he would never have anymore being trapped in this body. He missed his dad, even though he’d spent most of his life feeling like he wasn’t good enough for him. He could almost hear Locke’s voice, offering some kind of sage advice, grounding him in a way no one else could. But what would Locke say now that Henry was living someone else’s life? Being selfish in that body? Stealing a life that wasn't his?

The thought of Meyers being trapped in his old, weak, awkward body twisted the guilt even further. What was he going through? Was he struggling to find a way back to everything he lost?  Everyone he loved and cared about. Henry clenched his fists, staring down at the hands that weren’t his. Large, powerful hands that could grip a basketball like it was nothing. These hands should feel like a gift, but right now, they felt like a curse. “Do I even deserve this?” he whispered. 

The tears came freely now, streaking down his face as he stood there, alone and uncertain. The life he’d always wanted was right in front of him, but it wasn’t his to live. And the unfairness of it all ... the sheer impossibility of finding a way to make this right threatened to crush him. Henry wiped his face and took a steadying breath. The guilt and confusion swirled within him, but he made a decision: he needed to leave. There was no point in staying here, pretending to enjoy the night. He flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address to Meyers’ hotel.

The ride was quiet, the streets gliding by as Henry leaned his head against the window, his mind racing. He thought about the flight tomorrow and about meeting Meyers’ family; his wife and kid. He knew now this wasn’t his life. It never would be. But if he was going to be stuck in this body, he owed it to Meyers to keep things intact. He had to live the life Meyers would have wanted.

When he got back to the hotel room, he took a moment to absorb the space. It was luxurious. He undressed. Sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at his reflection in the darkened window, the man looking back at him was everything he’d dreamed of being: tall, strong, confident. Yet, it all felt wrong. Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the bed, his body sinking into the plush mattress. He set an alarm on Meyers’ phone for the early morning flight and let his eyes drift closed.

As the exhaustion of the day caught up with him, he found himself whispering into the stillness of the room. “I just want to go back,” he said, his voice cracking. “I wish… I wish everything would go back and be perfect.” The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, just as he drifted off, a faint, otherworldly sensation swept over him, like a ripple in the fabric of reality.

---------------------------------------------------

The next day, Henry stirred awake, blinking against the dim light filtering through his bedroom curtains. He yawned, stretching, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt normal. The familiar scent of his room, the creak of his old mattress, it was all unmistakably home.

A wave of relief washed over him. "I’m back." But as he shifted, something felt … different. His legs stuck out awkwardly over the edge of his bed, something that had never happened before. The covers felt tighter, almost constraining, as if they’d shrunk overnight. He looked down and saw his feet larger than he remembered, sticking out from beneath the blanket. “What the—?” he muttered, sitting up abruptly.

The movement felt strange, too. His body was heavier, stronger, and as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet thudded against the floor with a weight that startled him. Henry looked down at his hands. They were bigger, calloused in a way they hadn’t been before. He ran them over his arms, his chest, and his stomach. Everything was thicker and stronger. His heart raced as he stood, his head brushing the ceiling fan in a way it never had before.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. He stumbled to the mirror on his closet door, his larger feet making unfamiliar thuds against the wooden floor. When he saw his reflection, he froze. It was him, or at least, a version of him. His face was unmistakably his own, but his body… His body looked like it had been carved from stone, tall and muscular.. It was as if someone had taken his DNA and remixed it with an athlete’s.

“Is this… me?” he said aloud, his voice deeper and richer than it had been the day before. He turned, marveling at the size of his shoulders, the way his arms bulged as he moved. He lifted his shirt and saw abs that looked like they belonged in a fitness magazine. His once-oversized pajama pants were now clinging tightly to his legs, stretched to their limits. Despite the initial shock, a flicker of joy began to spark in his chest. He wasn’t Meyers Leonard anymore, but he wasn’t the old Henry either. Somehow, his wish had transformed him into a version of himself that seemed almost… perfect.

As Henry stood there, still grappling with the sight of his new body in the mirror, a knock sounded at his bedroom door. Before he could respond, his dad, Locke, stepped in with his usual confident stride. “Morning, kiddo,” Locke said, his tone warm and easy. He glanced around the room and then gestured at the bed. “Sorry about the setup. Your old bed was falling apart, and we couldn’t get a custom-sized one delivered in time for your visit. Guess it’s a little snug, huh?”

Henry froze. He stared at his dad, waiting for some kind of reaction, shock, confusion, anything about his now towering frame. But Locke didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, Locke walked up to him and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Hope you slept okay, though. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before the big game.”

“The game?” Henry croaked, his deeper voice startling even himself. Locke grinned. “Yeah, the basketball game! The other dads and sons don’t stand a chance now that you’re playing. I mean, come on, my son, a soon-to-be pro? They’re in for a rude awakening.” Henry’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at his dad’s face, the lines of pride and excitement so vivid it almost didn’t feel real.

For a moment, Henry felt like he was going to break down. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his emotions in check. This was what he’d always wanted. Not just his dad’s approval, but to feel like he deserved it. To feel proud of himself in return. “You okay, son?” Locke asked, his tone softening. Henry nodded quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah, Dad. Just… thinking about the game.”

Locke grinned again and pointed toward the closet. “Good. You’ve got your stuff ready, right? Let’s show them what we’re made of.” As Locke turned to leave, Henry couldn’t help but marvel at the surrealness of the moment. Here he was, taller than his dad, stronger, and finally feeling like he belonged.

Henry watched as his dad left the room, his heavy footsteps fading down the hall. Once the coast was clear, he grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom. He needed time to himself, to process everything. As he stepped into the bathroom, he couldn’t help but glance at the mirror again. His reflection drew his full attention. The tall, muscular figure staring back at him still felt surreal, but the more he looked, the more he felt a rush of pride and excitement.

He ran his hands over his broad shoulders, flexed his powerful arms, and twisted to admire the sculpted definition of his back. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, and even the way his abs tightened when he moved made him grin. “This is me now,” he whispered, his voice carrying a note of awe.

Henry stood there for a moment, taking it all in. He thought about Meyers, the man whose life he’d stepped into for a brief, chaotic day. A man with a family, a career, and a reputation Henry could have easily destroyed. But he hadn’t. The temptation had been there, but so had the guilt. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something strange on the counter. A small card, simple and plain, with elegant handwriting on the front: To Henry. He picked it up, curiosity prickling his skin, and opened it. The message inside made his heart skip:

"Henry,

You were given the opportunity to take what you wanted most. You could have claimed Meyers’ life and left him with nothing. But even when you stumbled, your remorse showed your true character. You’re a good person, Henry. And you’ve earned this second chance to become the man you always dreamed of being.

Merry Christmas,

Santa Claus"

Henry stared at the card, his emotions swirling with gratitude, relief, and a sense of validation he hadn’t known he needed. He looked back at his reflection in the mirror and saw himself smiling, a genuine, confident smile. For the first time, he was proud of himself.

Folding the card carefully, he tucked it into his pocket. As he finished getting ready, his mind raced with plans for the future. He would make the most of this second chance, and maybe one day, if the opportunity arose, he’d find Meyers and thank him in person.

For now, though, he had a game to play. A game where he could show his dad and himself what he was truly capable of. With a deep breath and a renewed sense of purpose, Henry headed downstairs to join his father, ready to step into his new life.

[sungbeam]

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a parasite about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @atzhouse @kflixnet

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 2)

summary: with the stakes of your relationship on the line, can rafe pull off the impossible to win you back?

word count: 6k 🫣

a/n: i love you all for the love on this lil' series!! ♡ toxic hockey rafe has me in a chokehold, so i promise this will not be the last you see of him!! apologies in advance, you will basically be attending a full hockey game here, i tried my best to explain all the lingo!

(part one)

The arena was packed even though you were there early, arriving alone because the other girlfriends and wives were always late, which simply wasn't in your DNA.

Your dad was a coach growing up, so you spent countless hours in empty rinks, arenas and stands; his rule for games was that you were in your seat early enough to see the starting lineup and the national anthem, no exceptions. Truth be told you liked being there when the lights went down, when the music amped up, you loved the anticipation of a new game.

You didn't mind sitting in the cold seat, hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that you got from the same concession stand every time. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious and by extension now you were too; just like they had their pregame rituals, so did you: same parking spot in the VIP lot, same hot chocolate from the same concession stand, same seat in section 106. You were in the lower bowl of the arena, a few rows back from the ice, facing the bench, nearly eye-level with the team.

You let your mind wander and tried not to think about Rafe but it was impossible, this place was Rafe to you; from the feeling of the cold air on your cheeks and fingers, to the damp and crisp smell of the ice and the sounds of the fans and ambient pregame music, all of it was a part of your love story, all of it was him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, rather it felt like coming home after a semester at college, foreign but familiar.

You swiped at your phone, a nervous tick, even though you knew there wouldn't be anything there, which was a good thing, Rafe needed to be focused on the game, so you slid your phone into the cupholder next to you and resorted to tapping your heeled foot nervously.

The seats around you filled quickly and sure enough the other girlfriends and wives arrived just as the lights were dimming, offering cheek kisses and sympathetic hugs, well aware of your situation. Your best friend Morgan slid in next to you, pulling you into her side.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're here" she said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the announcer as her brown eyes traced your face sympathetically.

"I'm fine" you lied with a forced smile. Totally fine you thought. Not the love of my life who broke my heart then skated over it trying to win me back in the middle of the semifinals.

You decided to keep all of that to yourself, because truthfully it was ridiculous. It was juvenile. And it was never going to happen. And you didn't want it to happen anyway, you reassured yourself. Right?

You shook your head as you turned your attention to the starting lineup as Rafe's name boomed over the loudspeaker, the cheering noticeably louder from the crowd. He was a fan favorite, beloved for his fast and aggressive style of play. He wasn't afraid to two-hand someone when the referee wasn't looking, to stand up for his team, to battle for the puck. He was chippy, gritty, and he's on the first line tonight you thought to yourself, a spot reserved for the very best players, putting them in the best scoring position. But surely that's not in any way related to our deal... you mused.

You stood on your tiptoes to see him over the crowd in front of you. He was standing at center ice under the spotlight, his helmet tucked under his arm as he shuffled side to side on his skates, face unsmiling, focused as he looked between his feet and the empty ice in front of him. Your heart leapt uncontrollably at the sight of him; God he's beautiful you thought as your body hummed in recognition and longing, completely betraying you.

The tension and animosity in the arena were thick. You had faced the opposing team a few times in the regular season and it did not end well.

As in, you'd lost every time.

As in, Rafe left the last game with a five-minute major penalty and a black eye after an all-out brawl.

Now the fans were itching for a rematch and you were simply hoping for everyone to leave in one piece. That was the difference between being a fan and being someone who cared deeply for the boys on the ice, it wasn't a spectacle to you anymore. You watched as Rafe's wingers Nick and Andrew stood beside him, followed by two defensemen and your goalie as the national anthem wrapped up.

Everyone took their seats as the lights came back on and the music came on again too, urging the fans around you to cheer, and for you to resume the incessant tapping of your foot as you leaned forward in your seat, laser focused on the guys lining up for the faceoff.

"Girl, you good?" Morgan asked, taking in your nervous energy.

"Hmm?" you responded distractedly, barely glancing at her. "Yeah, yeah m'fine" you said.

You were always more into the game than the other girls, but that didn't account for the clear tension and anxiety rolling off of you in waves, nor the way you were immaculately dressed, which didn't go unnoticed either.

Rafe skated to center ice, equally sized with the opponent at faceoff as the referee dropped the puck. It had barely clattered to the ice before Rafe had gained possession, shouldering his opponent out of the way and barreling towards the offensive zone with a burst of energy like a gunshot that had the crowd almost immediately back on their feet, pulling you along with them.

"OK, I'm sorry, what is happening here?" Morgan said as she watched him.

He was a man possessed, head down, focused, ignoring his teammates as they called for the puck to set up a play, like he was trying to do it all himself. Like he was trying to score. He flipped the puck towards the goalie, who blocked it and possession shifted as he skated backwards on defense, your heart settling in your chest.

Rafe always played with intensity, but with the way he was playing now, he wouldn't make it through the first period. You thought there would be a reprieve on defense, but he was diving for the puck, playing to steal rather than defending his zone. He looked like a maniac.

Until it worked.

The crowd was back on their feet as he and Nick had a breakaway two-on-one, both of them racing towards the net together with only one defender standing between them and the goalie, the rest of their teammates striding to catch up with them. Nick called for the puck, slapping his stick on the ice, but Rafe deked the defender, faking him out before approaching the goalie and tipping the puck into the small pocket over his shoulder, swishing it effortlessly into the net.

The arena erupted as the goal horn blared and you found yourself jumping up and down, overcome with excitement and emotion. You could physically feel your heart beating. This is totally normal you thought. It's totally fine to score a goal in the first two minutes of the game, on his first shift, against the toughest team in the league.

You watched players pile on him in celebration before they all skated back to the bench, bumping fists with their team before taking a seat on the bench. Your eyes were glued to him, and his were on the jumbotron above center ice, watching his own replay before the coach approached him, grasping his shoulder angrily, and you could imagine why. He had been reckless, he had been lucky. Rafe nodded, but ultimately shook him off and refocused on the resumed play. Players zoomed in front of you and your eyes zipped to follow them before you glanced ever so briefly back at Rafe, who was unmistakably looking at you and smiling.

You swallowed to hide the emotions on your face, not giving him a single inch as you focused on the play.

You loved watching hockey, but it felt different when Rafe was on the ice, like he was a magnet, the only thing you could focus on, and his next shift was no different. He was playing like a madman and within seconds you could hear the coach shouting. Rafe turned up emptyhanded this time and the coach was visibly angry as Rafe skated to the bench, going so far as to yell back at him, which had you holding your breath; you had never seen him do that before.

Nick reached for Rafe's shoulder to calm him down and then they started bickering back and forth. Your attention was now split between the two of them and the action on the ice when you saw Nick physically rear back at something Rafe had said, the motion grabbing your full focus. Nick covered his face with his gloved hands, looking back at Rafe and then repeating the motion before he glanced up at the stands, at you, and shook his head, resigned. Were they talking about you!?! you thought. Had Rafe just told him what's going on?

You were so caught up that you missed the play as the other team scored. The game was tied 1-1. The arena echoed with boos as their bench erupted in cheers. You looked up at the clock: 2 minutes left in the first period.

Rafe and Nick got onto the ice for their last shift and the second the puck dropped, they were off as a duo, Nick's intensity now matching Rafe's own; they were bodying guys, tag-teaming as they raced into the offensive zone. Nick had the puck and passed to Rafe, and almost immediately Rafe was cornered by two extremely large defensemen who pinned him to the boards as they tried to steal the puck. But he wouldn't relent, throwing his elbows and trying to wiggle free, desperate and angry as the buzzer sounded for the end of the period.

And yet they didn't let him go. The crowd started shouting and everyone was on their feet as Rafe dropped his stick, turned and grabbed them both by the front of their jerseys, shoving them as the benches emptied and other players joined in, piling on top of one another until you lost sight of Rafe in a mess of limbs, equipment and jerseys. You were craning to see over the ecstatic fans, egging on the fight as the referees raced to break it up, pulling bodies off of one another until they reached Rafe.

His helmet had come off and as the referees skated him towards the locker room, he was shouting at the opposing team who skated after him, riling each other up before he yanked himself out of the ref's grasp and marched off the ice through the tunnel.

Period 1: Game Tied. 1-1.

You let out a deep sigh before collapsing back in your seat. You took a shaky inhale before exhaling and you felt a set of eyes on you.

You turned to see Morgan looking at you with an eyebrow arched.

"You're really going to sit here and act like you don't know what's going on? I know that boy texts you his every thought."

You opened your mouth, an excuse, a lie ready before she interrupted you.

"-- And I KNOW you didn't block him like you said you were going to, so don't try me. What the hell is going on?"

You bit your lip at that, glancing between her and the ice where the zamboni was running clean lines across the cold surface.

You gave a halfhearted shrug, "You know how much he wants to win, how much this means to him."

She doubled down her glare.

You sighed, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her.

"I made a deal with him" you nearly whispered.

A few of the other girls snuck by you both, causing you to shift in your seats as she leaned in and whisper-shouted at you:

"I'm sorry what!"

"If he scores four goals tonight, I said I'd get back together with him."

"You're joking" she said flatly. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pursed your lips with a small shake of your head.

"The two of you" she said as she let out an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can't stay away from each other and yet you’re willing to bet the stakes of your relationship on a game. I can't" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

She paused, getting serious for a moment.

"Are you sure you even want to get back with him, is that really such a good idea hun?"

"Morgan, he's never going to score four goals, it's like, impossible."

"Are you watching the same game I am?" she said emphatically. "Cause your mans sure is gonna try and you better ask yourself what you're going to do if he does."

There was a whisper of truth to what she was saying. It was probably impossible, but not completely out of reach. And what would you do? Your heart trilled. You would be ecstatic the devil on your shoulder said. You would be screwed said the angel.

Your phone buzzed in the cupholder next to you and swiped it open.

You grasped at your phone. Rafe never had his phone between periods, none of the players did, it was basically sacrilegious. They had just enough time to get treatment, catch their breath, hydrate and listen to their coach and he was on his phone!? You put yours down and tried to rearrange the smile creeping onto your face as you saw the teams rejoining the ice for the second period.

Just like before, Rafe was off like a rocket, but the other team was on to him this time, doubling his defensive coverage, making it nearly impossible for him to skate, let alone make a play. He had put a target on his back with the fight at the end of the first period, so even when he didn't have the puck, you could see the other players go after him, a stick in his skates, a slash at his side, heads turning to chirp at him as they lined up for faceoffs. But he didn't slow down for a moment, battling twice as hard now, coming back to the bench after each shift uncharacteristically exhausted, heaving with his elbows on his knees.

You watched him and felt overcome with emotions as the realization hit you: Rafe wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't a 'feelings' person, he didn't always know what to say, which is why sometimes words came better to him over texts when he had more time to think about it. But hockey? Hockey was his language. He couldn't tell you how sorry he was, how much he wanted to fight for this, but he could show you. He could play for you, he was playing for you, putting his body on the line, trying his all-out hardest, not a single person in the arena could deny that as they watched him tonight. He wanted this. Badly. Which meant he wanted you, badly. You felt a flush of warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with your lukewarm hot chocolate as you watched him slide up the bench for his next shift.

You looked up at the jumbotron. There were only 12 minutes left in the second period, and the game was still tied at 1-1.

What were you going to do if he scored four goals?

What were you going to do if he didn't? felt like the more pressing question. He was running out of time. If something didn't happen now, he would have one period left to score 3 goals, and that was simply not going to happen. I shouldn't have made the number so high you thought guiltily.

Your eyes glanced back to the ice as he clambered over the boards in the midst of a shift change. He was skating methodically, not slower, but maybe more strategically and you were sure his energy was waning even if it didn't look like it.

Suddenly, Nick picked the puck off an opponent and Rafe raced to skate with him, crossing into the offensive zone with several of their teammates. Nick had a wide open shot, and he brought his stick back for a slapshot before turning at the very last moment and passing to Rafe who had positioned himself near the goalie. The puck banked off his stick and ricocheted into the goal.

You were on your feet again, jumping up and down in Morgan's arms as the boys piled onto each other. The crowd was alive again as the team took a 2-1 lead, 5 minutes left now in the second period.

Morgan looked at you, shaking her head before shouting something you couldn't hear over the crowd. You shook your head back before she leaned in closer.

"Is Nick in on this shit?" she yelled.

You looked at her, confused.

"Why else wouldn't he take that shot? It was wide open."

The idea of Rafe recruiting his best friend and linemate into this made you lightheaded and giddy. As you looked back at the bench, the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, looking right at you and Nick waved, a goofy little smile on his face for the briefest of seconds before his attention returned to the game.

Period 2: Eagles winning. 2-1.

The period ended and you spent the last intermission glued to your seat as everyone around you got up to get food and drinks, your mind spinning.

One period. Twenty minutes left for Rafe to score 2 goals. It was still nearly impossible, but didn't feel as insurmountable as before and you still weren't sure what you wanted the outcome to be. You were staring into middle space, questioning your entire relationship when your phone buzzed again in your cupholder. You swiped it open.

Two hearts.

Two goals.

You smiled widely, rolling your eyes before giggling like a little girl. You wanted to respond, and your fingers lingered over your screen, but he still had no business being on his phone, and what could you possibly say anyway?? "Nevermind!! Let's get back together despite all the shit you put me through!"

Ugh.

The third period was simultaneously the slowest and quickest 20 minutes of your life.

Rafe was battling, and the other team battled back, getting chippier and chippier as the teams exchanged penalties and breakaways, but the score stayed the same. You could feel the crowd's excitement at the prospect of scraping through this game with a one-goal lead; a good enough result to make them happy, but you couldn't deny the disappointment you felt as you were playing an entirely different game.

As time whittled down you felt yourself getting emotional as the odds were stacked against Rafe, stacked against both of you. Ten minutes. Eight. Five. Three. You could feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes as your foot continued to tap, eyes glancing anxiously between Rafe, the bench, the players and the jumbotron that counted down the time unceasingly.

Morgan reached for you, winding her arm around yours and grabbing your hand, a sad smile on her lips. You both knew this wasn't going to happen. There was just no way. You could sense that Rafe could feel it too, he was getting more and more desperate, scrambling after the puck, making sloppy mistakes that made you feel guilty, the most so when the other team scored… tying the game.

And then what felt like the final twist of the knife: with less than 1 minute left, they scored again, capitalizing on the dashed morale of the Eagles to take the lead 3-2. It was like someone sucked the air out of the arena. Rafe was on the ice, on his knees and all of the players looked so defeated.

Fuck fuck fuck was all you could think as they regrouped with their coach to come up with their last play, their last chance to tie the game. You leaned forward, desperately trying to read lips as if you could somehow decipher the plan. The ref blew the whistle and the coach sent guys on the ice, leaving Rafe behind, and your stomach dropped: he wasn't even going to get a chance.

Rafe argued and you could see him yelling and gesturing wildly as the coach yelled back. The ref blew the whistle again and you knew they were dangerously close to getting a delay of game penalty. A ripple of confusion went through the crowd as they watched the argument unfold and you wished you could sink into your seat and disappear.

The coach shouted something that seemed final before Rafe took one look at him, ignored him and skated onto the ice, swapping with Nick who slid onto the bench, head bowed, ashamed, as the coach berated him.

At this point, Rafe had been on the ice way longer than he should have, he was making mistakes, and now he was putting his career, his contract on the line as he stepped up to take the faceoff.

The puck dropped and the battle ensued as the teams fought back and forth. Their team took a shot on goal that had you holding your breath as the time ticked down.

There were less than 20 seconds left as the puck rebounded towards Rafe and he guided it with his stick, taking off down the ice faster than you'd ever seen him skate; in just three strides he had nearly covered the length of the rink, leaving all of the other players trailing behind him as he squared off with the goalie.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd shouted.

You were on your feet, grasping Morgan's arm for dear life, certain you were leaving a mark as you continued to hold your breath.

Rafe shot the puck and it hit the goalie's leg pad, but bounded right back to him.

"Three! Two!"

He shot again and the goalie fell forward, but the crowd behind the goalie erupted and the official lit the lamp behind the goal - he had scored.

The puck had slid between the goalie's legs and Rafe exploded with energy, ripping down the ice and jumping into the glass in front of you as his team piled on top of him and the crowd went ballistic as fans threw their hats onto the ice to celebrate his hat trick - three goals scored.

You were jumping and screaming with the other girls, a few tears escaping your eyes in relief and excitement, overwhelmed at the entire situation.

Three goals.

He'd scored three damn goals, a new career record for him. And now they were in overtime.

Period 3: Game tied 3-3. End of regulation play.

"Wait! Wait! What the hell happens now!?" Morgan asked breathless, looking to you as the only girl that knew a thing about the rules.

"Overtime" you huffed, trying to calm yourself. "Another 20 minutes, first team to score wins."

"Was that part of the deal?" she asked.

"It wasn't not part of the deal?" you said. "We didn't really get into specifics" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

You glanced at the bench as both teams hydrated and listened to the coaches. Rafe's teammates were still all over him, smacking his helmet, arms slung around him. The coach said something to him and he put his hands up in surrender as he sat on the bench and his teammates took the ice.

Your eyes were glued to Rafe but unlike before his didn't meet yours and for a second, you didn't know how to take that. You craved that acknowledgement from him, but you also recognized the look on his face; he was totally 100% focused, eyes fixed on the action on the ice. He wants to win you thought. Or maybe his focus was for something else.

Within a few minutes, his line was up and they jumped on the ice. He was playing smart now, conservative, concentrated and gathered, a stark difference from before. He was strong on defense, backing his team up as they played perfectly off of each other, which paid off when Nick stole the puck and shouted as he passed the puck up the boards to Rafe who sprinted after it, just a stride in front of a defender.

"Oh my god" you heard Morgan mutter as everyone stood to their feet and even though the roar of the crowd was deafening, you swore you could hear every scrape of Rafe's skate against the ice, the clatter of the puck as the play moved in slow motion to the beat of your heart.

Another stride and Rafe was alone in the offensive zone, the defender just a hair behind him.

Was this really happening? Was he about to end the game, to score a fourth goal?

Another stride and he was eyeing the goalie, lining up his shot.

He maneuvered his stick and just as he was about to shoot, the defender dove, thrusting his stick in Rafe's path, causing them both to tumble onto the ice and into the goalie, the puck sliding away, abandoned as the refs blew their whistles. No goal.

Rafe was down for only a second before he stood up, grabbed his stick and swung it with full force, snapping it in half over the boards in front of him in rage and frustration, causing the fans behind the glass to jump and spill their beer on each other.

Two of the refs were frantically skating towards him, waving their arms and blowing their whistles, but your eyes drifted to the head referee who was standing next to the officials box, watching a small computer screen, a replay. Almost immediately he nodded, handed back the screen and raised his fisted hands over his head and crossed them and you let out an uncontrollable shout of excitement as you grabbed for Morgan.

"What! Oh my god! What is going on!!?" she shouted back, and all you could do was laugh and shout as you jumped up and down and pointed to the referee.

"You are the ONLY ONE HERE who knows what that means!" she shouted. "What does it mean!!!?"

"A PENALTY SHOT!" you shouted back.

Your eyes shot back to Rafe who had clocked the same thing and was skating back to the bench. The equipment manager handed him a new stick and now the arena was abuzz with the same information as the announcer explained that Rafe would have the chance to score one on one against the goalie, with all of the other players off the ice. A golden opportunity.

The fans were ballistic. You could barely hear yourself think, could barely process your emotions as you struggled onto your tiptoes again to see over the raised hands and jumping fans as Rafe skated methodically to center ice, alone.

He skated back and forth, side to side with crisp turns like a predatory shark before he stopped at center ice, hands on his stick on his knees, eyeing the goalie before his head turned slowly and he looked right at you. Even amidst the chaos, you could see his signature smirk before he refocused and gathered the puck in his stick.

He was going to score.

You just knew it. You knew by the look on his face, by the stride of his skates, by the confidence in his gait.

"He's going to score" you said out loud, quietly, to yourself, a revelation before you turned to Morgan who was solely focused on the scene unfolding on the ice. You tugged on her sleeve, desperate for her to understand the weight of what you had just said.

"He's going to score, Morgan" you said, louder, matter-of-factly.

"Well SHIT I hope so!!!!" she shouted back without looking at you, now completely wrapped up in the game.

She didn't understand.

He was going to score.

And that meant he was going to be yours again.

Your eyes found the ice and you watched as he approached the goalie, goading him out of the goal, faking him out before wrapping the puck around his leg and tipping it upward.

The goalie dove backwards at the last minute and 15,000 fans held their breath as his gloved hand extended, brushing the edge of the puck, causing it to wobble, but without enough force to change the course of fate as the puck swooshed into the net.

The goal lamp lit up.

The goal horn sounded.

And if you thought the arena was loud before, it reached a new level as fans screamed, shouted, jumped up and down and embraced each other.

You felt realization ripple over you, your gaze stuck on the ice. Stuck on the image of the goalie flat on his back, defeated. Stuck to Rafe who had ripped his helmet off, discarded as he let out a roar of victory before getting bombarded by his teammates who piled on him in celebration.

End of OT. Eagles win 4-3.

Morgan yanked you into her by your shoulders, hugging you and jumping up and down, but an unexplainable calm had settled over you, gluing your feet to the ground.

You should be excited, you were, but instead you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience. What the hell had just happened? Rafe had scored four goals, had led his team to the finals. Had he done it for himself? Of course. But wasn't a part of it for you too?

You turned and looked back at the ice, desperate to catch his eye, to talk to him, to figure this out as chaos rained around you. The players skated to center ice with their sticks raised to salute the fans before skating away, Rafe leading them quickly into the tunnel without so much as a look at you. Not even a cheeky smile or a blown kiss, which you used to get after every game. What the fuck.

Morgan shook your shoulder.

"Babes, now what?!" she asked, excited, curious, anxious.

You looked at her, lost. You had no idea. Did you text him? Were you just back together again? How did this work?

The lights dimmed as the announcer drew the crowd back in to introduce the three stars of the game - recognizing the three standout players of the night. The third star was your goalie, who stopped an unimaginable number of shots and you cheered for him as he skated solo onto the ice in a spotlight, taking a spin around the ice before tossing a t-shirt into the crowd to an excited fan.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your mind incapable of thinking of anything but Rafe. You grabbed your phone. No new texts. The players were all in the locker room by now. Sure, they were partying and celebrating, but if he had time to text you in the middle of the game, couldn't he text you now??

Nick was the second star of the game and you glanced up from your phone to see him doing the familiar skate around the ice, waving to Morgan who blew him a kiss back, but you glanced back at your phone, willing a text to appear, opening and closing your texts, refreshing the app, messing with your wifi. Surely it was the internet connection you thought, now desperate to hear from him.

"Come on Cameron" you murmured to yourself.

"Okay, what is he doing?" you heard Morgan laugh and you looked down to the ice to see Nick still circling around, backwards, forwards, pumping up the crowd who roared around him as he gathered a t-shirt to throw. You were thrilled for him, really, but you resumed your focus on your phone. Should I turn it off and turn it back on again? you thought.

The lights dimmed further and the deep voice of the announcer reverberated, "Ladies and gentlemen, your first star of the game, with an unprecedented four goals, including your game winner--"

"Uhhh YN" you heard Morgan say.

But you were too distracted, too afraid to look away from your phone in case you missed a text coming through.

"--Rafe Cameron!!!" the announcer said, the spotlight shining on the tunnel, and your eyes shot up at the sound of his name, only to find the ice empty.

You felt Morgan tug harshly on your sleeve and when you finally looked back to her your stomach barrel-rolled and your heart shot into your throat.

Standing unmistakably next to her in the aisle was Rafe, still fully suited in his gear and pads, towering over everyone like a giant, his skates traded for his training shoes. Pieces of his hair were clinging to his forehead and his face was rosy with exertion, sweat dripping down his temple in rivulets.

He was smiling confidently at you, and unlike the last time you had seen him in your car, his eyes were unwavering and transfixed on yours, even when the fans around you turned around and noticed he was there, even when phones were whipped out and shouts and cheers went up, he ignored them; he only had eyes for you.

"How--" you started to say, your phone completely forgotten as he started to nudge his way past the people at the end of your row to walk fully into the seats next to you.

"Ohmygod, ohymgod" Morgan was saying as she clambered out of the way of his bulky frame and suddenly he was towering in front of you.

He was breathing heavily; with how quickly he made it up here it was no wonder he had been sprinting off the ice and into the tunnel. His face searched yours, eyes twinkling, flitting over your lips, searching for a sign, a signal, a hint of how you were feeling. And you weren't sure you could have expressed it even if you could form words.

He leaned down next to your ear and you could feel the sweat and the heat radiating off of him.

"That was four" he said, breathless and husky before pulling back, but not as far as before, his nose brushing yours.

The spotlight was sweeping the empty ice, looking for him as the announcer tried awkwardly to fill the air time, wondering where he was.

All you could do was meet his gaze, staring into his crystal blue eyes.

And all you could see was your Rafe.

Sure, he had his issues, but you knew he was sincere, you knew he was trying and you acknowledged that despite everything he was probably the love of your life.

"We didn't agree on overtime goals" you said loudly back at him to be heard over the crowd.

For a moment you could see fear, panic and a hint of hurt cross his face; if you didn't know him as well as you did you wouldn't have seen it, it was nearly indetectable. But he took one look at your sly smile, your blushing cheeks, your eyes rimmed with tears.

"C'mere" he said roughly, ignoring you as his warm and sweaty hands that smelled unmistakably like his gloves grabbed your face and pulled you towards him as his lips enveloped yours, engulfing you, bold, brazen and completely unabashed as he full on made out with you, chaotically, his tongue slipping into your mouth, even when you tried to wiggle away, more out of a sense of decorum than anything as a feeling seeped through every inch of you like he was mending every wound in your body.

He was sweating all over you at this point, but you didn't care. You could feel it dripping on you. You could taste it in his kiss, mixed with the tang of yellow gatorade and your fingers grasped for purchase on his jersey as you tried to balance yourself against the force of him pressing into you.

The crowd around you erupted, as the flash of pictures being taken lit the two of you. He was unrelenting and you could feel yourself flushing as much from his attention as from the heat radiating off of him. It definitely went on longer than it should have, longer than any right-minded couple would have made out in front of thousands of fans before he paused just long enough, his lips still hovering on yours and said through a growl, "You're mine, baby."

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444, @rafescurtainbangz, @romiiq, @dkjndfnmdfmdmnd, @warriorblu, @ietss, @tiaamberxx, @zyafics, @maybankslover, @saintchxx4, @akirkland, @cameronspecial, @f4ll-for-you, @diduzzula, @user123453226780536, @zizuras, @imabigback, @rowans-posts, @mymultiveres, @drewsphswife, @fangirlwithlou

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[herrscherofinsanity]

Drop-dead Gorgeous

When the new friend you made in college is pretty weird and very obviously hiding something... what is one supposed to do?

Fluff probably.

Twice Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Hi! I'm back and very inspired

____________________

y/n hurried across the bustling college campus, dodging groups of students chatting and laughing. It was the first day of the new semester, and she was determined to make a good impression in her biology class. She finally reached the lecture hall, slightly out of breath, and pushed open the heavy door.

Inside, the room was already filling up with students. y/n scanned the rows of seats, looking for an empty spot. Her eyes landed on a girl sitting alone near the middle of the room. She had long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders and a pale, almost ethereal complexion. Despite the girl's reserved demeanor, something about her intrigued y/n.

y/n made her way over and smiled warmly. "Hi, is this seat taken?"

The girl looked up, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp and observant. "No, go ahead."

"Thanks," y/n said, settling into the seat next to her. She set her notebook on the desk and turned to the girl. "I’m y/n, by the way."

"Nayeon," the girl replied, her voice soft but clear.

y/n noticed that Nayeon’s skin had an unusual pallor, almost ashen, and when their hands brushed as she adjusted her notebook, y/n was surprised by how cold her touch was. She filed these observations away, curious but not wanting to pry.

As the professor began outlining the semester’s project, y/n couldn’t help but steal glances at Nayeon. There was something captivating about her new partner, something that made y/n want to know more.

After the lecture, as students began to pack up and leave, y/n decided to break the ice. "So, Nayeon, what did you think of the professor's project idea?"

Nayeon shrugged slightly. "It seems interesting. A lot of work, but interesting."

y/n smiled. "Yeah, I agree. Do you want to maybe grab a coffee and discuss it? It’s always easier to brainstorm over caffeine."

Nayeon hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not."

They made their way to a nearby campus café, the conversation flowing more easily than y/n had expected. Nayeon was reserved but polite, and y/n’s bubbly personality seemed to draw her out of her shell little by little.

As they sat down with their drinks, y/n couldn’t help but ask, "So, where are you from? Your accent is a bit different."

Nayeon took a sip of her coffee before answering. "I’ve moved around a lot. My family is a bit... unconventional."

y/n laughed lightly. "Unconventional how?"

Nayeon looked down at her coffee, her expression unreadable. "It’s complicated."

y/n sensed that this was a sensitive topic and decided to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Well, I’m glad we ended up as partners. I think we’ll make a great team."

Nayeon looked up and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Yeah, me too."

They spent the next hour discussing their project, sharing ideas and getting to know each other a bit more. By the time they parted ways, y/n felt a genuine connection with Nayeon, even if there was still an air of mystery around her.

As she walked back to her dorm, y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about Nayeon. But rather than being put off, she found herself even more intrigued.

---------

Over the next few weeks, y/n and Nayeon’s partnership blossomed into a genuine friendship. They spent hours together in the library, coffee shops, and their favorite study spots on campus. Despite Nayeon’s reserved nature, she found herself opening up more to y/n’s sunny disposition.

One afternoon, they were in the library working on their project. y/n noticed that Nayeon was wearing gloves, even though it wasn’t particularly cold.

"Are you cold?" y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nayeon glanced at her gloved hands and shrugged. "I just like wearing them."

y/n chuckled. "Okay, Michael Jackson."

Nayeon smirked. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

As they continued to work, y/n couldn’t help but notice other peculiarities. Nayeon never ate in front of her, always claiming she wasn’t hungry. When they touched hands accidentally, Nayeon's skin was always unusually cold. y/n found these quirks endearing but puzzling.

One evening, they were in y/n’s dorm room, working late. y/n’s roommate had gone out, leaving them alone.

y/n stretched and yawned. "Do you want anything to eat? I have some snacks."

Nayeon shook her head. "No, thanks. I’m good."

y/n shrugged and grabbed a bag of chips for herself. "More for me, then."

As y/n munched on the chips, she noticed Nayeon looking a bit uncomfortable. "Hey, are you okay?"

Nayeon forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

y/n nodded and continued eating. "You know, Nayeon, you’re a bit of an enigma."

Nayeon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, you never eat in front of me, you wear gloves all the time, and you’re always so cold. Are you a vampire or something?" y/n joked, laughing.

Nayeon stiffened for a moment before laughing it off. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m just really mysterious."

y/n laughed. "Well, I’ll figure you out eventually."

As they continued working, y/n’s roommate suddenly burst into the room. "Hey, y/n! Oh, hey Nayeon!"

Nayeon turned around, startled. "Hi."

y/n’s roommate, Jennie, looked at them curiously. "What are you guys up to?"

"Just working on our project," y/n said, smiling.

Jennie nodded and plopped down on her bed. "Cool. Hey, y/n, can you pass me that soda?"

y/n reached for the soda can but accidentally knocked it over, spilling it on the floor. "Oops!"

Nayeon jumped up quickly, her reflexes almost unnaturally fast, and grabbed some tissues to clean it up. Jennie stared, wide-eyed. "Whoa, that was fast."

y/n laughed. "Yeah, Nayeon’s like some sort of ninja."

Nayeon smiled awkwardly. "Just quick reflexes, I guess."

As the weeks went by, y/n noticed more oddities. Nayeon always seemed to know when someone was coming before they arrived, her movements were often too smooth and precise, and she never seemed to get sick or tired like everyone else.

One day, they were walking across campus when y/n tripped over a loose brick on the path. Before she could hit the ground, Nayeon had caught her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Wow, you’re like my personal superhero," y/n said, grinning.

Nayeon helped her up, looking slightly embarrassed. "Just lucky timing."

y/n laughed. "Well, thanks for saving me."

-----------

(One evening, as they were working in y/n’s dorm room, y/n accidentally knocked over a stack of papers. As she bent down to pick them up, she noticed a small vial rolling out of Nayeon’s bag; it was labeled “Embalming Fluid.”

“Nayeon, what’s this?” y/n asked, holding up the vial.

Nayeon’s eyes widened, and she quickly snatched it back. “Oh, just... a family thing.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “A family thing?”

“Yeah, we’re... in the funeral business,” Nayeon said, clearly uncomfortable.

y/n decided not to push further, but her curiosity was piqued.)

-----------

Despite all the strange occurrences, y/n found herself growing more attached to Nayeon. They spent more time together, their friendship deepening. y/n’s natural curiosity and Nayeon’s guarded demeanor created an intriguing dynamic, filled with moments of laughter and genuine connection.

One evening, they were sitting on the roof of y/n’s dorm, watching the sunset. y/n turned to Nayeon, her expression thoughtful.

"You know, I don’t really care if you’re hiding something," y/n said softly. "I like you just the way you are."

Nayeon looked at her, her eyes softening. "Thanks, y/n. That means a lot."

y/n grinned. "Besides, everyone has their quirks. Yours just make you more interesting."

Nayeon laughed, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. "You’re something else, y/n."

Their friendship continued to grow, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and a bond that seemed unbreakable. Despite the quirks and the mysteries, y/n and Nayeon found a connection that went beyond the ordinary, creating a friendship that would eventually lead to something even deeper.

____________________

Despite Nayeon’s claims of being a very mysterious person, she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets. On various occasions Nayeon was almost caught by y/n.

The ice cream incident

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and y/n had convinced Nayeon to join her at the campus ice cream parlor. The place was bustling with students, and y/n was excited to try the new flavors they offered.

"Come on, Nayeon! You have to try this!" y/n exclaimed, holding out a cone of mint chocolate chip.

Nayeon hesitated, glancing around nervously. "I’m not really a fan of ice cream," she said, trying to deflect.

y/n pouted. "Oh, come on. Just one bite."

Nayeon sighed and took the cone from y/n, her mind racing. She brought the ice cream to her lips but pretended to lick it without actually eating any. "Mmm, delicious," she said, forcing a smile.

y/n narrowed her eyes. "You didn’t even take a real bite!"

Nayeon chuckled awkwardly. "Guess I’m just not in the mood."

y/n laughed and took a big bite herself. "More for me, then!"

---------

2. The mystery bruise

One day, while working on their project in the library, y/n noticed a large bruise on Nayeon's arm. It was a deep purple and looked painful.

"Nayeon, what happened to your arm?" y/n asked, concerned.

Nayeon glanced at the bruise and quickly pulled her sleeve down. "Oh, it's nothing. Just bumped into something."

y/n frowned. "That looks serious. Are you sure you're okay?"

Nayeon nodded. "Yeah, I heal quickly. It'll be gone in no time."

y/n didn't seem convinced but let it go, deciding not to push Nayeon further.

---------

3. The night walk

One evening, y/n and Nayeon decided to take a walk around campus. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow on everything.

As they walked, y/n started talking about her family. "You know, my mom always told me stories about supernatural creatures. Like zombies, vampires, and werewolves."

Nayeon tensed slightly but kept her expression neutral. "Really? Do you believe in that stuff?"

y/n shrugged. "Not really. But it's fun to think about. Like, what if one of our classmates was a vampire or something?"

Nayeon forced a laugh. "Yeah, that would be... interesting."

Suddenly, they heard rustling in the bushes nearby. y/n jumped and grabbed Nayeon's arm. "Did you hear that?"

Nayeon, sensing it was just a small animal, smiled reassuringly. "Probably just a squirrel or something."

y/n sighed in relief. "You’re probably right. I’ve got an overactive imagination."

----------

4. The temperature check

One chilly day, y/n and Nayeon were studying in the library. y/n noticed that despite the cold, Nayeon wasn't wearing a coat.

"Aren't you freezing?" y/n asked, shivering slightly.

Nayeon shook her head. "I'm fine. I don’t really feel the cold."

y/n, puzzled, reached out and touched Nayeon's hand. As always, it was cold. "You're always so cold, though. Are you sure you're okay?"

Nayeon pulled her hand back gently. "Yeah, I'm just one of those people who has cold hands. No big deal."

y/n frowned but didn’t press further. She made a mental note to keep an eye on Nayeon.

--------

5. The running race

One day, y/n challenged Nayeon to a race across the quad. Nayeon tried to decline, but y/n insisted.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" y/n urged.

Nayeon reluctantly agreed. They lined up, and y/n shouted, "Go!"

To y/n's surprise, Nayeon sped ahead, running faster than anyone she'd ever seen. She reached the finish line in seconds, barely out of breath.

y/n, panting, caught up. "Whoa, are you like an Olympic runner or something?"

Nayeon laughed nervously. "I used to run track in high school."

y/n grinned. "Well, remind me not to race you again."

--------

6. The mysterious sickness

y/n came down with a nasty cold one week, and Nayeon decided to visit her dorm to check on her. She brought a care package and stayed to keep y/n company.

As y/n lay in bed, she noticed something strange. "You know, Nayeon, you’re always around sick people, but you never get sick yourself."

Nayeon smiled. "I guess I just have a strong immune system."

y/n nodded, her eyes drooping. "You’re like... superhuman."

Nayeon chuckled softly. "Something like that."

-------

7. The accidental exposure

One night, during a late study session, y/n accidentally spilled coffee on Nayeon's hand. Nayeon flinched but quickly wiped it off.

"Sorry!" y/n exclaimed, grabbing tissues to help clean up.

Nayeon smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. No harm done."

y/n noticed, however, that the hot coffee hadn’t left a mark on Nayeon's skin. "Wow, that was hot coffee. Doesn't it hurt?"

Nayeon shook her head. "I have a high pain tolerance."

y/n looked at her friend, a mix of curiosity and admiration in her eyes. "You’re really something, Nayeon."

Nayeon smiled, hoping her secret would remain safe for a little longer. "So are you, y/n."

____________________

Even with the countless weird moments exchanged between the two girls, y/n couldn’t exactly figure out what Nayeon was hiding. The younger girl made sure to keep an eye out on her friend, but she really had no idea how to connect these dots. Maybe it’s a problem for the future.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Nayeon and y/n were lounging in the younger’s dorm room. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. They had just finished watching a movie, and the atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable.

y/n turned to Nayeon with a playful grin. "You know, if you keep being this amazing, I might just have to make a move on you."

Nayeon’s heart skipped a beat. She had been trying to keep her feelings in check, but y/n's words brought everything to the surface. She knew she couldn't start anything with y/n without revealing her true nature. It wasn't fair to her, and Nayeon valued their friendship too much to hide anymore.

Nayeon took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "y/n, there's something I need to tell you."

y/n's playful smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "What is it, Nayeon? You look serious."

Nayeon struggled to find the right words. "This isn't easy for me to say, but I need to be honest with you. I'm... I'm not like other people."

y/n frowned, confused. "Okay…? What exactly do you mean?"

Nayeon looked down at her hands, taking another deep breath. "I'm not human, y/n. I'm a zombie."

There was a moment of stunned silence. y/n blinked, trying to process what she had just heard. "A zombie? Like, the living dead?"

Nayeon nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. I've been dead for a long time, but I'm still here, living a different kind of life."

y/n's mind raced, recalling all the strange quirks and incidents that now made sense. The cold skin, the incredible strength, the odd behaviors. "But... how? Why?"

Nayeon explained, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "I don't know honestly. I just… I’ve always been this way? I very honestly don’t know how this works, I just know I’m dead. I've been trying to live as normally as possible, hiding what I am. But I couldn't keep it from you, not anymore."

y/n stared at her, a mix of disbelief and shock on her face. She didn't know what to say or how to feel. Part of her wanted to comfort Nayeon, but another part of her was overwhelmed by the revelation.

Nayeon continued, her eyes pleading. "I understand if you need time. If you don't want to see me again, I'll understand, but I couldn't keep lying to you, y/n. You mean too much to me."

y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "I... I need some time to process this, Nayeon. It's a lot to take in."

Nayeon felt a pang of sadness but nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here if you have any questions or if you just want to talk."

y/n nodded slowly, her mind still reeling. "Thanks. I just... I need to think."

Nayeon gave her a small, understanding smile. "I get it. I'm sorry to spring this on you."

y/n shook her head. "No, you did the right thing. I just... need some space right now."

Nayeon stood up, her heart heavy. "I'll go. But remember, I'm here whenever you're ready."

y/n watched as Nayeon left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She sat there in silence, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. She had so much to process, so many questions to answer. One thing was clear though: her feelings for Nayeon were still there, complicated now by this new revelation.

____________________

y/n paced around her dorm room, her mind still reeling from Nayeon's revelation. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could help her make sense of everything. Her eyes landed on her roommate, Jennie, who was lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Jennie," y/n began, her voice a mix of uncertainty and urgency.

Jennie looked up, immediately sensing that something was off. "What's up, y/n? You look like you've seen a ghost."

y/n gave a shaky laugh. "I think I just did. Can we talk?"

Jennie sat up, putting her phone aside. "Of course. Spill it."

y/n took a deep breath and sat down on her bed, facing Jennie. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but... Nayeon just told me she's a zombie."

Jennie's eyes widened, and for a moment, she was speechless. Then, she burst into laughter. "A zombie? Like, 'brains' and 'undead' zombie? ‘Like The Walking Dead’?"

y/n nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. "Yeah, that kind. And she's been hiding it all this time."

Jennie stopped laughing, realizing y/n was serious. "Wait, you're not joking?"

y/n shook her head. "Nope. Dead serious. Literally."

Jennie sat back, processing this new information. "Wow. That's... a lot to take in."

y/n nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me about it. I don't know what to think or how to feel. I mean, she's still the same Nayeon, but now there's this whole 'undead' thing. Although, she’s been like that this whole time, right? Oh, what even…"

Jennie gave her a sympathetic look. "I get it. It's a lot to wrap your head around, but you know, Nayeon's a good person... or zombie. Whatever. She's always been there for you."

y/n sighed. "I know, and that's what makes it so hard. I care about her, but this is just... so out of the blue."

Jennie smiled gently. "Well, look at it this way. You now have a friend who'll never be late for class because they 'overslept.'"

y/n couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess there's that."

Jennie continued, her tone more serious. "But honestly, y/n, if anyone can handle this, it's you. You're one of the most understanding people I know, and Nayeon clearly trusts you a lot to reveal something this huge."

y/n nodded, feeling a bit more grounded. "Thanks, Jennie. I needed to hear that."

Jennie grinned. "Anytime. And hey, if she ever tries to eat your brains, just remind her I’ll kick her ass."

y/n laughed again, feeling a bit lighter. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jennie stood up and gave y/n a supportive hug. "You got this, y/n. And if you need any more zombie jokes to lighten the mood, you know where to find me."

y/n hugged her back, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Jennie. You're the best."

Jennie winked. "I know. Now, go get some rest. You've had quite the day."

y/n nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. She still had a lot to process, but with Jennie's support, she felt more ready to face whatever came next.

--------

(“She doesn’t look like those from ‘The Walking Dead’ though… maybe she’s like those from that one Disney movie?”

“Jennie, be so for real…”)

--------

A few days had passed since Nayeon’s revelation. y/n had spent those days reflecting on their friendship, Nayeon’s secret, and her own feelings. Jennie’s constant stream of zombie jokes had kept things light-hearted, but y/n knew she needed to talk to Nayeon.

On a sunny afternoon, y/n decided it was time. She made her way to Nayeon’s dorm, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. She knocked on the door, and moments later, Nayeon opened it, looking surprised and a bit apprehensive.

“y/n,” Nayeon greeted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Hi.”

“Hi, Nayeon,” y/n replied, giving her a small smile. “Can we talk?”

Nayeon stepped aside, letting the younger girl in. “Of course. Come in.”

They sat down on Nayeon’s bed, a palpable tension hanging in the air. y/n took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

“So,” y/n began, trying to keep her tone light, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything. And I have to say, Jennie has made it her mission to educate me on every zombie joke ever made.”

Nayeon chuckled, a bit of the tension easing from her shoulders. “I can only imagine.”

y/n grinned. “Yeah, it’s been... interesting. But seriously, Nayeon, I’ve thought a lot about what you told me. And I realized something.”

Nayeon looked at her, a mix of hope and fear in her eyes. “What’s that?”

y/n reached out, taking Nayeon’s hand in hers. “I realized that I like you, Nayeon. A lot. And zombie or not, that doesn’t change.”

Nayeon’s eyes widened, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “Really?”

y/n nodded. “Really. Besides, having a zombie girlfriend could be pretty cool. I mean, I’ll never have to worry about you getting sick or anything.”

Nayeon laughed, the sound filled with relief and happiness. “True. And I’ll always be around, no matter what.”

y/n grinned. “Exactly. And you know what else? I’ve decided that having a zombie girlfriend gives me a lot of material for teasing.”

Nayeon raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yep,” y/n replied, leaning in closer. “For example, did you know that you’re drop-dead gorgeous?”

Nayeon groaned, playfully swatting at y/n. “That’s terrible!”

y/n laughed, enjoying the light-hearted banter. “I know, but you’re stuck with me now.”

Nayeon smiled, her eyes softening. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

y/n’s expression turned more serious, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “But in all seriousness, Nayeon, I’m really glad you told me. I know it must have been hard, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. Always.”

Nayeon’s eyes filled with emotion, and she squeezed y/n’s hand. “Thank you, that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

y/n leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft kiss to Nayeon’s lips. It was gentle and sweet, filled with all the emotions they had kept hidden.

When they pulled back, Nayeon looked at y/n with a smile. “You know, I was really worried about how you’d react.”

y/n smiled back, her eyes filled with affection. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’m pretty sure Jennie herself would be heartbroken. Either way, I’m staying, deal?”

Nayeon laughed, pulling y/n into a hug. “Deal.”

As they held each other, the weight of the past few days lifted, leaving only the warmth of their connection. y/n knew that their relationship wouldn’t always be easy, but with Nayeon by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came their way.

And maybe, just maybe, having a zombie girlfriend wasn’t so bad after all.

--------

(“Does she eat brains though? Should I be ready? Get a wired bat or something?”

“I’ll make her eat your brain if you don’t stop asking questions.”

“I need to know!”

“It’s 3am!”)

____________________

A few weeks had passed since y/n and Nayeon had their heartfelt conversation, and their relationship had blossomed beautifully. y/n, true to her promise, continued to keep things light-hearted and fun. Nayeon, on the other hand, enjoyed every moment, grateful for the love and acceptance she had found.

One sunny afternoon, y/n, Nayeon, and Jennie were lounging in y/n and Jennie’s dorm room, enjoying a lazy weekend together. Jennie, ever the unserious woman, was in the middle of telling another one of her infamous zombie jokes.

“Okay, okay, here’s a good one,” Jennie began, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why did the zombie break up with his girlfriend?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Because she wanted something more ‘alive’ in the relationship!” Jennie delivered the punchline with a dramatic flourish, bursting into laughter.

y/n groaned, shaking her head. “Jennie, that’s terrible.”

Jennie grinned. “I know, but I live to make you two laugh.”

Nayeon playfully swatted at Jennie. “You’re impossible.”

y/n leaned over and kissed Nayeon’s cheek. “But we love you anyway.”

Jennie feigned wiping away a tear. “Aw, thanks, guys. I feel so loved.”

Nayeon smirked. “Keep this up and I’ll have your brain for dessert.”

Jennie snickered. “I don’t think y/n would appreciate that. Right y/n?”

y/n laughed, wrapping an arm around Nayeon’s shoulders. “Definitely not, but I like my girlfriend just the way she is, so I might just let her do it.”

Nayeon beamed, leaning into y/n’s embrace. “And I like you just the way you are, too.”

Jennie grinned, watching her two friends with a fond expression despite the threat. “You guys are really cute, you know that?”

y/n and Nayeon exchanged a glance, both smiling. “Thanks, Jennie,” y/n said. “But don’t think that means you’re off the hook for all those zombie jokes.”

Nayeon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got plenty of teasing material now.”

Jennie raised her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to be good.”

y/n snorted. “Sure you will.”

They all laughed, the room filled with warmth and joy. As they settled into a comfortable silence, y/n looked at Nayeon, her heart full. She knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, with love and laughter.

And maybe, just maybe, a few more terrible zombie jokes along the way.

--------

(“Do you think Nayeon could hook me up with a vampire or something?”

“That’s it, I’m moving out…”

“This is important! My wattpad life!”

"Stop asking me questions at this godforsaken hour!")

____________________

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm finally free from being married to the hospital, and I'll have a bit more free time for about a month. I'll try to update as much as I can during this period of time. I have some requests lined up and I'll finally get to them. This is in honor to Nayeon's first comeback as a solo artist, I hope you enjoy it. If you want to request something or simply chat feel free to do so.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hi Sarah (or Sara? I remember you discussing the h but don't remember which way it's spelled). I hope you're doing well on your break and enjoying September. I have a question - how much schooling did you have to do to become a nurse? I'm considering becoming an elementary school teacher in Norway, which would require me to go back to school for 5 (additional) years. Seems like a long fucking time and i didnt do great the first run tbh. It would be free though. Investment in the future seems like it could pay off, so i guess im looking for inspiration from other ppl who have perhaps made a similar plunge

Hi, anon! I wish I could give you some straight up inspo. Instead, I navel-gazed for a while. Schooling-wise, I already had a (completely unrelated) bachelor's degree so I was able to do an accelerated nursing program after two semesters of community college doing the prereqs. I did struggle in nursing school. College has always been brutal on my mental health and nursing is a hard pivot from my original degree (double major history and english w a concentration in creative writing) (you cannot imagine how many books I read and essays I wrote). It took a little over two years in total.

You don't have to don't have to worry about student debt which is so so wonderful. I didn't have to either, and that's let me be way more adventurous with my life choices. The cost of your education would just ("just") be your time, energy, and the potential money that you could earn by focusing on work instead. I had to stick around in my hometown instead of going traveling with Cyrus. I worked a lot fewer hours than I would if I'd not been in school. I had to miss the live airing of the Jesus Christ Superstar on NBC in order to study for an anatomy test which was genuinely so distressing to me. 2018 was a hell of a year for me. (I aced that test btw. It was such an improvement over my previous test my teacher emailed me a congratulations note with twelve exclamation points.)

All of this while people were constantly talking about how shitty it is to be a nurse and how so many of them leave the field within six months. (Similar to teaching in that way, at least in America.) I was doing work I didn't enjoy for a job I might not stick with. There were a lot of times I resented nursing school for interfering with my life.

I'm still very glad I did it. My degree gave me a lot. On the very practical side, my degree has given me more financial freedom and a much higher earning potential. On the idealistic level, my degree has enabled me to do work that I find meaningful. The work touches a lot of things that I find interesting. My nursing degree has benefited my life, regardless of if I stay in nursing for the rest of my career or move on to something new. I didn't like getting my degree, but I don't regret that I got it.

Maybe it'll go way easier for you, maybe it won't be worth it. When I thought about becoming a nurse, it felt like my life plan clicked into place because it ticked every single need I had for a job. I didn't know if it would work out, but the rewards outweighed the risks. More than that, it was the first plan I had for my future that made me excited. I liked the life I pictured if I was a nurse. I've found that excitement to be rare and precious. If teaching gives you that, I'd strongly consider pursuing it.

Besides, you can always use my last-line defense against school despair: being like "fuck it I'm gonna drop out after this semester" and then keep not doing that. You can bail on stuff! It's rad.

[celandeline]

Okay this is my first time asking for a one shot so I hope this makes sense. Okay how about Farleigh and reader aren’t close friends but they are close like behind closed door (if you know what I mean) and like reader is sensitive. So one day Farleigh makes a joke about her without noticing she is there and like hurts her feelings. Like does that make sense obviously you can ignore this if you want. But you if you could write about the part where he is apologizing to her (smut will be great honestly), but you do whatever you want.

sorry this took so long - i promise i'm working through all the lovely asks you guys sent me, it's just taking a minute (school and shit, you know)

anyways!

I'm Sorry (In Not So Many Words)

Farleigh Start is a lot of things. At first glance, a stuck up bitch, but that’s only the first of many layers. He’s wicked smart when it comes to literary analysis, can write an argumentative essay like nobody’s business, and breezes through books faster than anybody else you know. He’s funny in a bitchy kind of way that’s distinctly American and not to everyone's taste, but definitely to yours. He’s fashionable to a fault - a bit of a diva, truly - but on more than one occasion has held your hair back so you can vomit vodka into the toilet. He always has enough weed or coke or acid tabs to share and always has extra room in his dorm for you to crash if you’re too high to get home. He’s mean and nice at the same time, and to most people, it’s confusing. But not to you. 

To anyone else, you’re friends. Barely friends, even, connected only by the fact that Felix and Annabel are kind-of-sort-of a thing. You would have never have even met him if Annabel hadn’t dragged you into Felix’s circle, but you’re glad that you did. It’s fun, finding excuses to get each other alone, patting concealer over hickeys you’re not ‘supposed’ to have. And he’s nicer behind closed doors, when he’s not putting on a show for his cousin. You might even go as far as to say that he’s sweet, when it's the two of you alone. Of course, you’d never tell anyone - not that anyone would believe you, either. 

So when you overhear Felix ask Farleigh if he’d ever consider going out with you to double date with him and Annabel and he laughs, an icicle shoots through your heart. It’s condescending, his laugh; it’s you’re kidding and I would never and you can’t be serious all at the same time, and it shoots through you like a bullet. 

You don’t show up to Kings Arms even though Annabel texts you that that’s where everyone is, instead holing up in your room, the sound of Farleigh’s laughter banging around in your head. You don’t know what the truth is. Has he just been leading you on this whole time? Pretending to like you for… what? It can’t be sex, he can get that with other people, it can’t be drugs, he always supplies them, it can’t be money either… but the way he laughed, like it was so ludicrous that he would ever consider going on an actual date - a double date, even, which is really only half a date - with you. And to think that you liked him. Even just as a friend. Maybe you were wrong to think that his bitchiness was a front - maybe that’s just who he is. Maybe you were wrong to think that he was anything else. Maybe-

A gentle knock at your dorm door interrupts your spiraling, and you get up from your bed, padding across the room to look out the peephole, and find a familiar puff of curls. You’re opening the door before you can really think about if you want to see him right now, just out of habit. 

Farleigh smiles at you, and breezes into your room like nothing’s wrong. “Did I leave my grinder in here?”

“I don’t know.” You say, closing the door and retreating back to your bed, watching him sort through the things on your desk, looking for the little blue grinder he keeps with the rest of his weed supplies. He sorts through your things like they’re his - and if you’re being honest, some of them are. Over the course of the semester, the line between what’s yours and what’s his has blurred significantly. 

He turns around at the sound of your voice, peering down at you. “What’s wrong with you?” It’s teasing and sympathetic at the same time. 

“Nothing.” You shrug. “I’m just not feeling well.”

He squints, moving from the desk to sit down on the bed next to you. “Uh huh.”

You’re really not in the mood for him right now. “Fuck off.” Why should you give him the time of day when he was so rude behind your back? You don’t really want to tell him off to his face - he’s quick as a whip in an argument, you’ve seen it firsthand - but you really, really, don’t want to see him right now. 

He laughs, sharp and surprised. “Wow.” He says. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “What, what?” You mock him. You know you’re being childish, but you don’t really care - it was childish of him to laugh. 

He rolls his eyes back at you. “What’s your problem?” He asks. “You were perfectly fine earlier, did I say something?”

“Obviously.” You say.

He waits for you to keep going, but you don’t. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“I heard you and Felix.” You snap. “Is the idea of actually going on a date with me in public, with other people, that fucking funny?”

His face shifts into something you don’t recognize. “I-”

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, you should just say so.” You keep going. “I thought that we were actually, I don’t know, friends, at least. Call me crazy but I felt like I actually knew you, and actually liked you.” You laugh. “I just-” You pause. “Nevermind. I guess I was stupid for thinking that it went both ways. I guess I shouldn’t have, I mean, I was watching you do this same shit to other people, I don’t know why I thought I would be different-”

“I wasn’t laughing at the idea of going out with you, I was laughing because there’s no way in hell I would ever go on a double date with Felix and Annabel. They’re fucking insufferable as is.” He interrupts you, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “Did you really think I was laughing at you?”

“I wouldn’t have been so pissed off if I didn’t think you were.” You say, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. “But-”

“I’ll take you out.” He says it casually, thumbing over your cheekbone. “Just us. We can go get dinner at that new place by the pubs. If you want.”

All of the anger and doubt that had been piling up on your chest is suddenly lifted. “That sounds great.”

“Cool.” He says, grinning, his hand still caressing the side of your face. His fingers trail down the side of your neck and then he’s cradling your head, pulling you closer to press his lips to yours - softly, gently. It’s an ‘I’m sorry’ in fewer words, but you know him well enough to read it as an apology. 

You kiss him back, pouring your sorry back into him. You shouldn’t have been so quick to assume that he was laughing at you, you should have had more faith in the fact that companionship is a two way street - he seeks you out as much as you do him. It’s mutual, and in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten that. Sweeping your tongue into his mouth, you smile against his lips when he sighs into the kiss. 

He pulls away so that his lips are just brushing yours. “Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You say, leaning back as he gently pushes you down on the mattress. “It was really my fault, I misunderstood-” 

He noses down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as your back hits the mattress. His curls tickle your skin as he works down your collarbone, rucking up your shirt so that he can kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes as he does. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as he kisses over the skin. “Farleigh-”

“What?” It’s teasing and playful as he sits back on his heels to thumb at the waistband of your pants. He drops his voice slightly. “Can I?”

You nod, and he dips his fingers below your waistband, gently pulling your pants down to your ankles. You kick them off the rest of the way as he leans back down over you, holding your eyes with his as he noses between your thighs. You suck in a breath as his tongue makes contact with your skin, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your tip your head back against the mattress as he starts to work his mouth over you. He knows how to use his tongue - there’s a reason there’s a rumor about him sucking teachers off - and he puts it to work right away, diving in like he’s hungry for it. 

“Oh fuck-” You wind your fingers into his curls, tugging at the root. He moans into your skin, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. It’s good - it’s always good with him. That’s another thing about Farleigh - you can always trust him to actually get you off. Unlike most of the other guys you’ve been with.

But you feel a little guilty that he thinks he has to make it up to you, when you were the one who didn’t bother to ask him what he meant. If anything, you should be sucking him off. Tugging more insistently at his hair, you pull him up to latch your lips together in a kiss, licking yourself off his skin. He pants against your lips. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You say. That way it’s even, that way, you’re both getting to enjoy yourselves. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He shucks his trousers and boxers down in one motion, kicking them down the bed. He’s already hard - but he usually is, after burying his head between your thighs - and you don’t hesitate to reach out and stroke him a few times, watching his face change into that almost pained look he gets when you fuck him.

You line him up, brushing his skin against yours, and watch as his eyelids drop to half mast as he pushes in. The stretch just borders on the edge of too much, but the groan he lets out distracts you from the sting. He always sounds so pretty when you’re like this, tangled up in the sheets of your too-small dorm room bed. You wind a hand into his hair and pull him down into the crook of your neck so that you can nip at his earlobe as he starts that slow, delicious grind you’ve come to associate with him. 

He sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, gently biting over a hickey that he left only a couple days before, refreshing the mark as he muffles a groan. You trail your lips down the shell of his ear until you find his neck again, doing the same. His hips stutter into yours as you suck at the tender skin of his neck, and you smile. Even though he’s on top, he’s still putty in your hands - or mouth, really.

“Farleigh.” You whisper against the mark you just left.

“Mm, what?” He nips at your collarbone.

“Switch with me.” You say. “Let me on top.”

He laughs, a breathy thing that borders on a whine. “I’m supposed to be making it up to you-”

“Which is why you should let me on top.” You say. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you-”

“Please?”

His hips stutter against yours again, and that's how you know you’ve got him. He pulls you tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and rolls across the mattress until he’s flat on his back and you’re straddling him without ever pulling out. Sitting up, you take in the sight of him, pupils blown wide, lips still slick with spit, a blooming mark peeking out from behind his ear, and plant your hands on his chest for leverage as you start to bounce. 

He grins, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the moan that forces its way out of his chest as you work yourself up and down his cock, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. You purposefully scratch your fingernails down his chest to watch him squirm, and he uses his grip on your hips to fuck up into you, to watch you falter. It’s a fun game that you play, who can make the other keen and whine more, made even more fun by the fact that more often than not, you win. 

“Fuck, fuck-” Farleigh rasps, his grip tightening as he takes over your bouncing for you. You let him move you at his own pace, able to tell just by the way he whines that he’s close. He throws his head back and you watch his stomach tighten as he lets out a long groan. His whole body tenses, and then stills. You wait for his eyes to flutter open before you start bouncing again. 

He gasps, a high pitched laugh leaving his lips. “Shit-”

“I’m almost there.” You say, watching his face as the coil tightens in your gut. 

“Take your time.” He says, panting. “I’m good.”

He always says that, but you know it’s only a matter of time before it’s too much and he starts to grit his teeth. You know what it’s like - you’ve been on the other end before, already came but Farleigh’s still fucking, the drag growing more overstimulating the longer it goes on. So you bounce faster, focusing on the way he looks underneath you, debauched and panting, eyes half lidded as he watches you go up and down, sweat gathering in the hollow of his neck. God, he’s so beautiful. 

“Ah-” 

You shake apart on top of him, and he catches you as you slump down onto his chest, arms wrapping around your middle. You nose into the crook of his neck with a sigh, contentment washing over you. “‘M sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being stupid. Thinking you were laughing at me. Sulking about it.” You say, pressing a kiss to the warmth of his skin. 

“‘M sorry for making you think I was laughing at you.” He says. 

You sigh. “We’re good?”

“We’re good.” He says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

[onequeerhuman]

Ah, the opportunities (and the tension) Pt.1

larissa weems x oc!reader, fluff with tension

light descriptions of body

no major warnings

1.7k words

"Ah, Professor," she says softly, beckoning you to come closer, gesturing to one of the chairs. "What can I do for you today?"

« Good afternoon, Principal weems…. i was hoping we could have that meeting you booked for tomorrow today/right now, if possible? » you say, standing near the door to her office.

She glances down at her calendar, raising a brow as a small smile stretches across her face, nodding in response as she sets down the pen in her hand. “Ah, of course, Professor. Please, have a seat, we can start the meeting right away."

She gestures to one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, her eyes watching you as she waits for you to take a seat, crossing her arms.

« wonderful, thank you. » you smile lightly at her, sitting down carefully and smoothing out your skirt.

She gives you a small nod as she leans back in her chair, her piercing eyes watching you intently as you sit down, studying you for a moment before her red lips curve into a smile once more.

"I trust you've been settling in nicely at Nevermore, Professor? If I may ask, how have your classes been going so far?"

« quite well, i think. the students have been quite engaged so far— and no offence to whoever was maintaining the greenhouse prior to mg arrival, but i’ve managed to revive all of the plants and have properly organized them by species, variant, requirements and aesthetics» You tell her, playing with one of my many necklaces.

A small chuckle leaves her lips as she leans forewords in her seat, resting her chin on her folded hands as she listens intently with genuine interest. She nods in agreement, tapping her long nails against the table.

"Ah, excellent. The greenhouse has sorely needed a good overhaul - I'm glad to hear you're taking care of it. Your talents in botany are highly valued here at Nevermore."

You smile warmly at her praise “why thank you, Ms. weems”

She smiles back at you, her eyes slightly flickering away from you for a moment as she reaches out and grabs a file out of a drawer, sliding it across the table towards you.

"You're welcome, Professor. As for the purpose of this meeting," she takes a deep breath, folding her hands in front of her. "I was hoping we could go over a few things; how you're adjusting to life here, any issues or concerns you may have, and discussing the upcoming Rave'N event."

“of course, yes” you pick up the file, a flicker of a frown passing over your face for a split second though not going unnoticed by the principal before you begin reading the file, which seems to mostly contain information on curriculum, past experience with the botany professors, a few progress report questions, as well as a bit of information on the raven.

She watches you intently as you scan through the information in your file, taking a moment to take note of the flicker of disdain that crossed your features. Yet, she continues on with a small nod as she waits for you to finish reading.

"Of course. As a new faculty member, there are certain expectations and responsibilities that come with the territory." Her voice is smooth and calm, yet laced with discipline. "I would like to hear your thoughts on the curriculum, and if there are any improvements you would like to make to better suit our students' needs."

« mmn, well, as i can see here, most if the past professors has a less.. hands-on approach than i would usually enact in a class setting, especially with the students attending this school…. »

She nods in understanding, her eyes flickering across the page once more.

"Ah, I see. Yes, the previous professors had a more traditional approach to teaching, but I believe a more hands-on approach might be more appealing to our students."

She looks up at you, tilting her head slightly. "What kind of approach would you envision for the coming semester, Professor?"

a light sigh escapes your lips as you think, biting your lip as you look up to the roof for a moment, « well, » you say, « i’d probably adjust the curriculum so in the warmer months i could take the students to participate in a much more involved way, with the colder months being dedicated to the more clinical and dangerous aspect of the work… and although the education on these dangerous plants are quite important, i feel there needs to be an equal amount of focus on the positive, helpful plants for different species and just in general »

The principal's demeanor shifts ever so slightly as your eyes flick to the ceiling, watching as you bite your lip. As you continue to speak, she nods in agreement with your assessment, her eyes watching you intently.

"I see," she says, her voice filled with a faint sense of warmth. “That is an excellent approach, Professor. It's important to give attention to both sides of the spectrum - not just the dangerous plants, but the helpful ones as well. And being able to get out in the warmer months will certainly enrich the students' learning experience."

You nod « yes, i hope so » You respond, adjusting your position on the seat, secretly sitting with crossed legs underneath the large skirt you’re sporting.

Her eyes flicker down for a brief moment, before returning back up to your face. She gives you a small nod of approval, leaning back in her chair once more.

"Excellent. We will definitely take your suggestions into consideration for the upcoming semester." She pauses for a moment, letting out a small chuckle. “I must say, Professor, I'm quite impressed with your dedication to your craft. It's refreshing to see someone so passionate about their work."

« why thank you, ma’am. it’s quite a huge part of my life even outside of teaching, so i feel it’s important to encorperate my joy and wisdom on the subject into every aspect of my work »

She smiles earnestly, nodding in agreement once more. “Of course, Professor. It's always wonderful to see someone so dedicated to their passion. I think our students will appreciate your enthusiasm and expertise."

As she speaks, her eyes flicker over you once more, her slender fingers tapping the table. “You certainly have a lot to offer Nevermore with your botanical knowledge."

smiling back at her, you throw a part of your

hair over your shoulder, « thank you, i certainly hope so»

The principal's eyes widen slightly as she sees your blouse, her eyes trailing over the revealing cut of the top as she lets out a small chuckle. She takes a deep breath, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"And it seems you have impeccable fashion sense as well," she retorts with a smirk, tilting her head to the side as her eyes rake over the top once more.

« hmmn? oh, why thank you ..i quite enjoy the style of the 70s/90s, this happens to be one of my favourite casual tops » you tell her, shrugging.

*The principal's eyes don't leave your body as you speak, her gaze fixated on your chest as her breath hitches for a moment. She clears her throat, sitting up in her chair and crossing one leg over another.*

"I must say, you wear it so well, Professor, especially in comparison to your usual clothing choices."

snorting lightly, your lips curving up in a half smile « thank you, principal, I do love my fashion, but i prefer to remain modest while teaching.. »

The principal nods in agreement,

"Modesty is a virtue, Professor," she remarks, her eyes twinkling with a subtle playfulness. “But I must admit, it's quite lovely to see this side of you - more casual ..and revealing."

smirking at that you chuckle, saying « oh, if you’re thinking *this* is casual, you should see me outside of school sometime, you’d be surprised at my state.. » as you run your tongue over your lips/teeth.

“Oh, is that so, Professor? I must admit, I'm quite intrigued," she purrs, her voice lowered to a seductive whisper. "Perhaps you could give me a private demonstration of this 'state' of yours."

A nearly unnoticeable flush is added to your cheeks at that, but you continue on.. “hmmmn, i certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that.. maybe you’d like to join me tomorrow- i’d had plans to go out into the forest for lunch anyways, and i certainly wouldn’t mind your company” you utter with a light smile, eyes a bit darker than before.

A mischievous smile spreads across the principal's lips, her eyes sparking excitedly at your offer. She leans back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the table once more as she nods eagerly.

"Why, I'd be honored, Professor. A picnic in the forest sounds like a delightful idea. And the chance to experience you outside of work is certainly an intriguing prospect," she says with a chuckle. "Tomorrow it is, then. I look forward to our little adventure."

“Wonderful, Principal weems, I will see you tomorrow near the edge of the woods at noon then… until then” You smile, voice more gravelly as you stand up and sway your hips a bit for emphasis whilst leaving her office, a smile playing on your lips.

As you leave the office, Principal Weems watches you, her eyes trailing slowly over your body. The principal's heart quickens at the sight of your swaying hips, a faint pink blush spreading across her cheeks as she imagines the picnic tomorrow.

“Until tomorrow, Professor," she whispers softly as you exit the room, her mind already filled with delightful thoughts of your upcoming rendezvous in the forest…

want more? lmk :) -bug

[midnight-mourning]

Better Strangers. (Unless?)

Well it took a bit more time than I expected, wonder why THAT is (side eyes the wizard that put a curse on me, currently tied up in the corner) but it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! She's long, and I had to cut some stuff because it wasn't working, but such is life

If you've never read Confused Spirit, this will make a lot less since to you lol, so I recommend reading it first (though it's not a requirement). Again, this bad boy is canon to the story, but will never be directly mentioned in it

Word count: 7500

Song rec: Tommy's Party - Peach Pit (ignore the lyrics, it's the vibes that matter here)

Also posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading that way.

Content warning: Mentions of self-depreciation, self-gaslighting, depression, bits of yelling, etc. Small bits of using alcohol as a coping mechanism. Additionally, if you've never experienced what it's like to be anxious-drunk, you're in for it. Reader discretion is advised

☀️���☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

"Okay, money's on the counter, Lisa needs to do her math homework before cartoons, and if you could do some flashcard practice with Gabe that would be super great but no worries if not, okay bye!" You say in a rush before opening and closing the front door. 

You lean back against it briefly, take a deep breath, and force yourself to march over to your car. 

It's your least favorite day of the quarter, second only to your least favorite day of the semester.

Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Comparable to Report-Review day at work, or tax season. The reason it was your second least favorite was because the other Parent-Teacher Conference day usually landed on a Friday, meaning you had one more night of the week you had to go out. 

This one was just a bit more bearable in that yeah, you had work afterward, but at least you could use all of tomorrow evening to recharge. And you certainly intended to. 

The school parking lot is filled with parents coming and going, chatting with those they know. You briefly greet anyone who says hello, but keep on your way, you want this to be quick, you've only got an hour or so before your late shift.

The meeting goes about how you'd expect, Lisa's the perfect little angel at school, it's just with you that she's a complete and utter menace. You'd considered the evening to likely being end on a high note based on this, but you'd be wrong. 

Very wrong. 

It's as you're walking out that you run into what would be your catalyst. 

"Oh, funny seeing you here, dear!" Helen says as she approaches. 

Inside you're saying every swear you can think of, outwardly you smile, "Hi Helen. It's parent-teacher night, of course I'd be here."

"I know, I know, merely joking." 

You stand there, awkward, head nodding once, "Well if that's all then I'll be on my way then-"

"Well it's just, how do I put this," She tutters, shaking her head, "I can't imagine what your meeting must've been like. And I won't speculate of course, I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you, is all."

Your brows furrow briefly, but you try to remain neutral. Chill, you're chill. You can kick Helen's ass in a fight if you wanted, it's fine. 

"The meeting went well, actually. Lisa's a good kid, I only stopped by because Mrs. Isley's been wanting brag on her in person."

This doesn't deter Helen, which you'd been, actually you can never tell what to expect with her. Doesn't matter, she keeps that sad look on her face, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "Well, I wasn't sure if she was aware of the tumultuous situation with your family is all. It sounds like something that would greatly be affecting Lisa's performance. But I'm so glad to hear that's not the case."

"What, what do you mean?"

"Well, I ran into your aunt, Hannah's her name, right?" Helen tsks, "She told me all about your situation. Just awful to listen to, you know."

It occurs to you to glance over to where Helen came from, her typical group of parents she gossiped with. They're looking at you now, that same, bullshit look on their face. And you can just catch some of the things they say. 

"To think someone like that's taking care of Lisa."

"I know, could you imagine, being so cruel to your family?"

"Typical twenty something, has no regard for anyone but themself."

"It is selfish, isn't it? Their parents would be ashamed."

You freeze then, something in you shutting down. You don't know what to say, how to react, how to even, think, for a moment. 

This is possibly one of the worst case scenarios you could ever imagine. Helen knows an exceeding amount of information about you that you've done your best to hide for the sake of your siblings. Stuff that would otherwise be harmless, where you work, where Lisa goes to school, what daycare you use, etc. But could be incredibly dangerous when the wrong person find out about it. And at this point, you have no idea one way or the other if they have. 

Has Rick's family tried shit in the past? Of course. Have they ever taken it that far? Debatable. You'd done your best to keep your personal life unknown to them for a reason however. But did you really know what their limits were? You had absolutely no clue.

And that terrifies you.

And it's your fault in the first place.

"Are you alright?" Helen asks, in a tone that is so fake you swear you can taste plastic. 

You snap out of it. Not here, not now. Instead, you beam, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

This throws her for a loop finally, "I, well I-"

"I appreciate all the concern, Helen, really, I do. But we're doing just fine," Your hand pats the one of your shoulder and she flinches back. Ironic, you know. 

You laugh, it's loud and fake as hell but it does what you need it to, "I don't know what you've been told, but let me assure you, there's a reason we're not on great terms. Didn't file that police report for nothing!"

At this, people start to turn towards you both, muttering quietly. Usually, such a thing would embarrass you. But you're channeling your rage to smother your panic. Your shame.

Hannah and the rest of Rick's family lives on the complete other side of the city. Helen would have had to go out of her way to manage to run into any one of them. And it sounds like she had. 

If you had to guess, it was probably incidental, you have no social media, they all do. All it would take is a bit of profile browsing to find the connection and if she ever came across any of them, could easily strike up a conversation. Still crazy, but slightly less crazy than other options.

"Is everything okay over here?" Looking to your side you see Mrs. Isley, glare on her face, pointed toward Helen, before sharing a concerned look briefly with you. 

You nod, "We're just fine, but I do have to get going now. Thanks for the, words of encouragement, Helen."

Her face has grown red, and can't even muster a response. Satisfied, you lean in as you pass her by, voice low, but still loud enough for the teacher behind you to overhear, "Hope you got what you wanted from that. Because next time, I won't be so nice and just say outright how the PTA president goes out of her way to find someone's toxic family members and delve into their personal life for no damn good reason."

You give her a rough pat on the back, and march out of there. Behind you, you can hear Mrs. Isley start to lay into the soccer mom who had so much free time on her hands to try and upset the 23 year old who, apparently, must be doing a better job at parenting than she was, as that what the only explanation you could come up with for her vendetta against you.

Once you make it out of the building is when you allow the facade to start to break down. You're panicked, you're freaking out. You're trying to determine if you're going to have to switch school districts now or what. You really don't want to uproot Lisa because of a mistake you made, which was believing that Helen Chase would mind her own damn business and-

Someone is calling after you. You look up from unlocking your car to see it's Mrs. Isley. 

You raise a hand as she makes it over to you, out of breath, "It's fine, Aubrey. Just the typical bs. I'm okay."

"I'm sure you are," She says, pointing back to the school and shaking her head, "But that, was unacceptable behavior on her part and I am not going to let it fly by, rest assured. She's the head of the PTA, she's well aware of the school's 'no-contact list'."

"I-"

She raises her hand now, "No. Not this time. I get it, you don't want to make waves. But this was too far, and it's not fair to you in any which way to just leave it lie. She will be reprimanded, and if anything happens because of it," She shakes her head, "Well, I'm not going to let it."

"Thanks," You manage to choke out. The stress and relief both getting to you in that moment, due in large part to her firmness on the matter. 

The teacher hugs you then, squeezing tight, "We have rules in place for this kind of stuff. And I'm sure once her husband hears wind of this he'll do his best to make sure nothing comes of it," She pulls back, hands on your cheeks, "Okay?"

You nod, hoping she can't see the tears pricking your eyes, "Okay."

Aubrey lets you go, "You're sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," You shake your head, "Just the words of someone who doesn't know how to mind their own business. I've had worse."

She nods, "Alright. Have a good night, and be safe."

You say goodbye and she walks off. You have to grip your wrist with your free hand to keep the one that's shaking steady enough to grab the door handle. 

You drive in silence to the Plex, both hands tight on the wheel. 

You're not going to let it get to you, you're not going to let it get to you, you know she's wrong, she's always wrong, she's just an asshole and you know that you're doing your best, you're doing great! Lisa's proof of that, Gabe's proof of that. You're fighting and you're trying, you're trying, you're trying-

The doors to the Daycare shut behind you, interrupting your thoughts. 

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you look around for your beanbag, finding it absent. 

"What are you doing here?"

You turn, finding Sun cleaning up art supplies across the room. 

You shake your head, "Not in the mood for this tonight, Sun. If you didn't want me around you could've just said so."

His rays flick back and forth, "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, my beanbag?" You nod to the empty spot, not ignoring the confusion he also displays, "Not the end of the world, really, but still."

He just stares over at you. 

Then, "Bright Eyes, it's Friday."

Shit. It is Friday. You'd lost two days. Too caught up in work and stress and so on, to the point you'd hired Clara for the night and hadn't even realized. Not that it was her fault, she had no reason to question your foolishness. Your fault. Your mistake. Your fuck up. 

Like always.

"I, right, yeah."

"Now, as much as I'd be thrilled to continue to entertain you, I have a preparations to be making," He walks over and starts to guide you, not gently, towards the door, "You understand I'm sure."

You shrug him off, embarrassed, not helping your already growing negative feelings and thoughts, "Yeah, I got it. Night."

You walk out, a bit aimless now. You're frustrated, you're upset, and you really, really, are feeling a bit shitty. There's tears pricking your eyes again, and honestly, you don't know what you need right now to fix it.

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

You turn, "Pete? It's eight o' clock on a Friday, why aren't you home?"

He puts both hands on his chest, "I'm here for my best buddy Jacob's birthday. See the hat," He points to his head, where indeed, he's wearing a party hat, "Did you want to join?"

"I, you know what? Yeah. I would."

"Great! Come on," He slings an arm around your shoulder, changing your direction to the West Arcade, "Some of the gang's upstairs. Savannah was busy, and Jesse's out of town, like a loser, but you'll know most everyone I think."

"You're not going to question me anymore?" You ask. 

He shrugs, "Well no, not my business what you get up to. Unless you want it to be?"

You shake your head instantly, you didn't need to embarrass yourself by telling your coworker you let a middle-aged woman's words make you cry.

He nods, looking forward again, "Besides, you looked like you needed a distraction. For a bit anyway."

"Thanks, Petey," You sigh, "I do."

The atmosphere inside the West Arcade hits you instantly as you walk inside. 

People are chatting, dancing, drinking and making fools of themselves, what you'd typically expect from a Plex party. Or really, any party with a bunch of burnt out twenty-somethings. 

You meet up with Liv and Tyler, and are given a party hat and a drink shortly thereafter. 

You stare down at it for a moment, briefly, and check the time, you have Clara until 11:30, you can have one and sober up in time. 

You say the same thing after the second, and after the third argue that you can just, pick up your car tomorrow, grab an Uber. 

After, drink four, you take the time to sober up for just a moment, which ends up being a mistake. Because now you're alone with your thoughts, and after the night you've had, that's the worst place for you to be. 

The words said to you by a bunch of women in their 40s should not upset you like this, they're the ones choosing to pick on someone half their age. Sure, maybe they weren't wrong but that didn't, that didn't give them the right to talk like that, right? 

You weren't just thinking about yourself, right?

They wouldn't be disappointed in you for not trying to make ammends.

Right?

Fuck, you really should sober up, sober up and go home. 

"Hey, you alright?"

Liv's sitting next to you now. You give a practiced smile, "Just need a little more water. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" She waves over the bartender to get you another water and order another drink for herself.

You nod, "Positive. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here."

Lying through your teeth is somehow so much easier when you're drunk. 

You drink another water, and don't feel any better. You just feel more, aware. Aware of how you don't fit in, how you're here because Pete took pity on you, how awful of a friend, a sibling, a daughter, a partner- No, not that last one, we're not getting into that mess tonight. 

Has it really been that long since the last time you drank this much? You check the time, it's been an hour or two. You still had time. Fuck it, have another drink and try to have some fun. Something's gotta distract you from this feeling eventually, right? 

When you check the clock again and realize it's 10:40, and it'll take at least twenty for an Uber to get here, you fumble for your phone and call Clara.

"Hey, I'm uh, gonna be home a bit later, is that okay?" You ask against the loudness of the room. You should have went outside instead of going to the quietest corner you could find, but you're kind of losing your logic. 

You have to strain to hear her response, "Yeah, not an issue, I'm mid breath of the wild playthrough so time has no meaning to me."

"You've got breath of the wild? Jealous," Focus, you need to focus so you don't sound stupid, "Anyway, I'm guessing another hour or so, and if it gets too late you can stay over so you're not driving home so late."

"As long as you don't mind me gaming in the living room into the late hours of the night that's cool with me. What are you up to out of curiosity?"

You swallow, "Birthday party."

"Oh, Jacob's yeah? Savannah told me about it but since I was busy I couldn't swing by."

"Oh?" Why does that make you feel bad? Why do you feel so excluded now? That your coworker's sister got an invite and you didn't? Or did you get an invite and you forgot? Why do you care? You're not friends with Jacob. You’re not friends with these people out of work, really. Right?

"-speaking class."

You don't know what she just said, "Gotcha, gotcha. Well, I'll see you later tonight then."

"You got a ride?" You can just make out her button-mashing, followed by a sigh, "Sorry, if you've been drinking I mean."

"Yeah, I'll be good. Thanks."

After hanging up, you just stare down at your drink, then out to the dancefloor. You see everyone having such a great time, so why can't you? Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just let yourself be happy? What does it take to make you relax and just, chill the hell out? 

You haven't relaxed in months you realize. Not after what happened that night. Ironically, at the last Plex party you attended. If anything, you think being here, doing this, has just made everything that much worse. 

You need to get out of here. You need to go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. 

Too bad you can't make that last one happen.

You finish your drink, and after a small head rush, walk over to where your friends? coworkers? are and say your goodbyes over the music. 

"Hey, it was really good seeing you tonight!" Pete says, then nods to where Jacob's at on the dancefloor, "Jacob appreciated it for sure."

He's lying. He's just being nice because you're his boss. 

Liv gives you a quick hug, "We should hang out outside of work more often. Maybe somewhere a bit more quiet."

She doesn't mean that. She's pitying you. 

"Yeah, that'd be great!" You smile. 

Tyler raises his fist and you bump it, "See you Monday, broski. Stay safe out there."

"Can do, have a good night guys."

"See you!" And "Be safe!" are shouted out behind you.

You believe the genuity of that. You may know that they hate you, but they're nice people. 

Your feet walk you in the direction you don't want to be heading. Split between this impulse decision and just going home. But you can't make yourself go home, you can't go home, home just remind you of everything, and everything you're not-

The Daycare doors feel heavier than usual, which makes sense considering how much you've had tonight. Inside, you find it's, pretty much the same as usual, you don't know what all the fuss was over on Sun's part. 

Speaking of, where is he? 

You shuffle in, taking note of the small plastic tea cups and saucers sitting on a table that's been moved to the center of the space. Along with... snacks? Right, Chica's supposed to be here. Seems she hasn't shown up just yet.

You're trying to remind yourself why you came here as opposed to calling for a ride, when you hear the doors open again. 

"Oh. You're back."

You turn, Sun is holding a tray with a teapot, and there is indeed, steam coming out of it. Now you know. 

"Did you want something or are you just here to bother me?" He swiftly walks past you, setting the pot and tray down with pointed showmanship.

Something about his tone sets you off. Not unusual. But because you're not sober, you speak your mind in a way you otherwise wouldn’t. Unfortunately unusual. 

"You know, starting to wonder that myself."

"Really now?" He speaks with a bored enthusiasm that grates on you.

"Yeah, really. You know, I don't sleep at night because of you," You shake your head, "My dreams are just, filled, with nothing but that night. Over and over again, it plays in my head. And you see, the worst part is that it's not even the idea of seeing him in that stupid machine. You know what keeps me up? You. And what you did to me," You take a deep breath, looking back to him, "And what I did to you." 

Sun's rays tick a few times. 

Then, "You're intoxicated."

"Yeah, no shit, glad you finally got up to speed."

"I'm just rather surprised you'd be interested in taking such risks again considering what happened to you last time."

You scoff, "Don't even try to pull that, I wasn't wasted, I had a concussion."

"I was referring to being at the Plex so late alone, Starshine," His gaze narrows, "But rest assured, you're increasing my concern the more you speak."

"Concern for what? Because we both know it isn't for me. And that's fine, shouldn't expect, don't deserve it. Even if I-" You stop yourself, you're not out of it enough for that, "I'll just give it to you straight; you have no reason to be concerned. For my siblings? They don't need me, Clara sees more of them than I do and she does a hell of a lot better job. My work? Someone else would fill the gap when I'm gone, my team's more than competent without me. My friends? They've got each other, or, or partners. And our little investigation? You," You slow down for a moment, "Well, I'm sure with that charming personality of yours you could trick another sorry sucker into helping you with ease."

You throw up your hands, laughing, "So, no need for concern here, Sunny. If something happens to me no one will notice!" Your face feels wet, "No one's going to fucking care. So, you can take your concern and shove it."

You bring a hand up to your face, confirming that you are crying, "Fuck, exactly what I needed to top off the night."

You sniff once, and then turn around, you seemed to get everything you'd wanted to say out of your system, maybe you can go home and be happy now. Or something. 

"Why did you come here tonight?"

You pause, then laugh quietly, hand coming up to run through your hair, "Hell if I know."

A hand is set on your shoulder, one that makes you spin around. The motion slightly jogs you.

Sun's gaze is down at you, rays spinning once or twice but otherwise motionless. 

"Stop that. I don't like being analyzed," You mutter, averting your eyes. 

His other hand comes up to guide your focus back to him, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Not right now."

You manage a half-hearted chuckle, "Give me some credit, Sun. I'm calling an uber as soon as I'm out of here."

You think if he could frown he would, instead, his eyes narrow and grip tightens just a tad, "Not wise. Not if you're alone. I suppose there's other options. Hold still. And don't look down."

"What are you-hey hey hey, what are you doing?" You argue, anger flaring momentarily as he takes hold of you, your feet coming out from under you as he lifts you into his arms. 

Before you know it, you're up in the air, having to squeeze your eyes shut so you don't get dizzy from the change. You feel Sun land on solid ground again several seconds later.

"You say a word about anything and I'm putting you in the theater instead," A brief pause, "Or on a naptime mat down below."

You open your eye, "Wha-Oh."

"I mean it. Not. A. Word."

You put your hands up, "Okay, okay."

He didn't say anything about making private observations to yourself. 

The Attendant's room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all. Your first thought is organized. Your second thought is empty. 

Clean also comes to mind, there's not a speck of dust in sight. You take note of the different standout features. An old, Hollywood style dresser with matching mirror and lights, string lights hang from the ceiling among the rafters. There's a set of cubbies containing spare toys, and some seemingly ongoing craft projects. 

You spy your bean bag in a corner with a few others. There's also a large pile of blankets and stuffed animals, almost like a bed. Lying nearby you see a charging port. 

The most interesting thing to you, however, is the green tube in the left wall, leading obviously to somewhere, you just don't know where exactly. 

You don't get to find out, Sun sets you down on the blanket pile, and if you weren't so hypervigilant you'd sink right in, exhaustion is starting to hit you after the combination of drinking, yelling, and crying. 

You hear a click and realize he's left the room. It's the perfect opportunity to snoop, but the desire for rest outweighs this urge. Besides, it's rude. And you're not that rude.

You feel like all you did was blink and he's back again. You rub your face and pat it a few times to try and wake up, glancing over to the bot.

"I've already taken the liberties of informing your babysitter that you will be home after several hours of sleep. And agreed upon compensation." Sun answers your look of concerned confusion by raising his hand with your phone, "You dropped it when I picked you up, she had asked about your well-being. You can check to confirm I did nothing else if that eases you."

The fact you can't recall that happening proves it's probably for the best he did that.

"God she's going to hate me," You groan, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Sun sets your phone down beside you, and sits down in front of you, glass of water in one hand, "She does not. Drink."

You eye the glass with suspicion.

"Are you seriously debating whether I've tampered with it?"

"Should I not?"

A scoff, "It's a glass of water, I've done nothing to it."

"Sound like something someone who did something to it would say," You muse.

Another scoff, and he leans down, rays clicking, "If I was going to do something, Bright Eyes, it would have already been done. And need I remind you, I can't cause harm even if I wanted to."

"Fine," You huff, taking the cup and muttering as you sip, "I'm surprised they let you have glass."

No answer. You look over, eyebrows raised. 

Then it clicks, "Ah. Contraband. Noted," You finish the glass and wipe your mouth, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

No words for a bit, your head hurts, but this helps. That might be a good thing to bring up, you're not a fan of this kind of silence.

"Why did you help me? Or I guess, why are you actively, helping me?"

Sun shrugs, hands clasped in his lap. You expected a snarked out comment that you're strangely not receiving.

Then, "I'll get you another glass. You should rest in the meantime." He stands up, and in your current state the action panics you. 

"Wait," You reach out, grabbing his arm, "Don't go. I'm, I don't want to be alone. Please." God, you sound pathetic.

You also realize what it is you're doing, and to whom, and you let go, "I, shit, sorry. Just, yeah just go get the water. I'll be fine."

You pull your knees up to your chest, controlling your breathing. You didn't need to start crying again. You're fine, you know you'll be fine.

A soft jingling sound interrupts your thoughts, and looking up you see Sun unwrapping one of the ribbons from his forearm, then his wrist. Once he's finished, the ribbon and bells piled in one hand, he holds it out to you. 

You furrow your brow, but take the offering. 

"It's the best way I can think of to assure you I'll be back. I'd look rather silly if I went around like this, right?" He waves both hands up by his face. 

You sniff, "Yeah."

"And if you're truly, concerned, just ring, and I'll be here," He stands straight again, taking the glass, "I'll just be a moment."

"Ok."

He leaves the room, and you're alone.

Having nothing better to do, you lean back against the numerous pillows and stuffed animals behind you, hands clasping and resting on your chest. 

You take note that the ceiling has a few glow in the dark stickers you recognize from the Daycare proper. Someone must've snatched the extras when they had the chance. The thought makes you laugh softly. 

It also occurs to you then that Moon is additionally assisting in this, mess, you've created, given that the theater is probably dark, and you don't believe that door leads anywhere else. 

You close your eyes, shame welling up in you. This is pathetic on your part. Truly and utterly. You're an adult, and you can't take care of yourself after a night of drinking? You can't manage to drink responsibly, avoid the typical stereotype and make a fool out of yourself saying shit you shouldn't? God, you're so-

You're being gently jostled awake, "You can't sleep like that, friend. You'll regret it." More quietly, "And he won't shut up about it, for that matter."

You open your eyes, they feel a tad heavy from the short nap you got. Your senses perk up however, when you smell something greasy yet heavenly. Pizza, currently in Sun's hand, soon to be in your stomach if you have anything to do with it.

"Thought you were just getting water," You say, as if you're not two seconds away from devouring that pizza whole. 

He scoffs lightly, setting the pizza in front of you and handing you the water, "I had a feeling if I told you what I was doing it would only make things worse."

"You'd be right," You take a brief drink of water, then open the pizza box and grab a slice. It's divine. And you don't say that lightly when it came to Fazbear pizza. 

You groan mid-bite, leaning back against the plushes behind you, "God, I wish you could taste how good this is right now. Like," You take another bite, "So frickin' good."

You're too focused on eating to overhear Sun laughing quietly at your antics. You managed to scoff down three slices before he takes it away from you. 

He places it over on the dresser, "You'll get sick. And preferably, I'd rather not be cleaning up vomit at 1 am, if it's all the same to you."

"Just one more! Come on," You whine, then pause, eyebrows shooting up, "Oh I am not sober, that's for sure."

You realize Sun's staring at you, and your face heats up.

"Don't look at me like that, it just makes it worse," Your hands come up and cover your face.

At that Sun laughs. And maybe you're a bit out of it, but it doesn't sound mocking, or pretentious. It's genuine. 

You feel a compulsion to right your wrongs from earlier, or at the very least, try to.

"I'm, I'm sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't accept." Sun states. 

You cringe, and nod, "Fair."

He chuckles, "I don't accept, because it wasn't directed at me. You may have said those words at me, but I think we both know their true target."

You think for a moment, nodding solemnly, "Helen."

"Who? I-" He shakes his head, "Starlight, I meant yourself."

"Oh. That makes a bit more sense." You decide to give him a bit more context to save some trouble, "She runs the PTA. My third worst enemy, behind you, and Grab Ass. You got a Katie Chase in that little directory of yours?"

"Yes? But-oh. That one." 

Your brows raise for a moment, "Wow, I've never heard you speak with that much disdain before."

"We all have limits, friend," His tone shifts, like he's about to boil over with rage, "We all have limits..."

You yawn, and his attention shifts. He motions for you to take off your shoes and the likes, and you get the hint. You lay back into the bed-you're pretty sure there's a mattress buried under here somewhere, feels like it-letting loose another yawn.

Sun takes one of the blankets and tosses out over you, it falls slowly down on top of you. Then, he bends down and presses his smile to your forehead, pulling back after a moment and patting your head.

"What was that for?"

His rays spin, eyes widening a fraction. Seems he's just now realizing what he did, "An unfortunate matter of programming. One I'm hoping you'll forget by morning."

You scoff, smile on your lips, "That's not how being drunk works, you know. Only if you've drank a lot."

That seems to relax him.

"So explain it to me then," He sits at the end of the blanket pile, "I'm curious."

You sit up slightly to make eye contact with him, "Really? All the stuff you could learn about and that's what piques your interest?"

He nods.

You stare at him a moment, then lay back down, "I mean, alright. Do my best here."

You explain. Sun asks you a question every now and then. You just, talk. You talk to each other for, awhile it feels like. You talk until your throat starts to get sore. You, you haven't spoken with someone like this in a long time. Long enough you can't remember when the last time you did was. 

You start to get tired and Sun notices immediately. He mutters a brief goodnight to you, and the lights are shut off soon thereafter.

You roll over to your side to watch Moon appear. 

"Thank you. Both of you," You say, as he walks back over to you, "You didn't have to do all this, it's, appreciated."

He nods, "You are welcome."

A sudden realization hits you as sleep begins to take over. 

"My stuff..." You mutter, "I, left my stuff back in the West Arcade, if it's not stolen already."

Moon stands, "I'll retrieve it for you. Will you be alright?"

You sleepily raise your hand, bells jingling in your grasp, "Got these. And I'm a bit more sober now. I'll be okay."

Moon nods, "Then I'll return shortly."

"I might be asleep by then," You yawn, "So I'll preemptively say thank you, and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diana. Sweet Dreams."

You huff lightly, "What, no goodnight kiss?"

It takes you all of 0.5 seconds to realize what you just said.

"Oh goddammit-"

Moon leans down, and presses a kiss to your forehead, his tone cheeky as he pulls away again, "Is that satisfactory, your highness?"

Your face is hot with embarrassment but you refuse to lose. 

"'Twas," You turn over and away so he can't see your wide-eyed 'holy shit' stare, "But I'll have you know that I'm not that demanding when I drink. This was a one-time thing. Won't happen again."

"Of course not."

You snuggle further under the blanket, mumbling, "It won't. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake. One that's going to haunt me for a while."

Quiet. You feel him sit down beside you, "Everyone makes mistakes, Icarus. It's how we learn from them that matters."

"Trust me, I know."

A hand on your shoulder presses down and makes you lay back on your back. You stare up into red eyes, narrowed with concern down at you. The gaze makes you uncomfortable. You try to brush it off.

"I don't need a pity party, Moon. I gave myself enough of one earlier."

He tilts his head, "It's funny how you always assume care to be pity. I wonder why that is?"

You're about to say it, and play it off as a joke, but he beats you to the punch. 

"Well, it's not fair to speculate. So I'll just tell you, you don't have to suspicious of such with me. Or either of us for that matter," His focus goes back on you, "We mean what we say."

You raise a brow questioningly.

"For the most part, I should say."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

"Your friends mean what they say too, you know. They care about you. As does your family. It's obvious to anyone that sees it. You just simply need to allow yourself to." He pokes your forehead. 

You sigh, looking up to the ceiling briefly, "Oh, that's a lot harder than it sounds, Moon-man."

"I never suggested otherwise. I merely intended to remind you."

"I've been reminded," You smile slightly, "And I'll do my best to continue to do so."

"You'll have assistance." You can't tell if that's a tease, a threat, or a promise. You'll just be on the safe side and assume all three. 

You smirk, "Goodnight, Moon. For real this time."

"Goodnight, Andromeda. For real." He rises from the bed, giving a quick two-finger salute.

You snicker, shake your head, and close your eyes. 

A few moments later you hear the jingle of bells fade out into the Daycare itself.

Your hand clutches the bells and ribbon in your hand a tad tighter, and you feel yourself start to drift off into sleep.

You find yourself awake some time, you're guessing, much later. Your head isn't nearly as heavy, and you feel as if you slept for at least a decent amount of time. 

Groggily, you fumble for your phone, finding that it's been about three hours since you fell asleep. 

You become keenly aware of someone staring at you, and scanning the room find Moon staring down at you from the rafters. 

Normally, this would be an alarming sight at 4 in the morning, for you and your half-asleep mind, it arouses mild surprise. 

"Why are you awake?" He asks. 

You sit up, fumbling for the glass beside you, "I become very awake in the hours after drinking," You gulp down the glass, "For a very short period of time. I'll probably start feeling tired again in a few minutes."

You wipe your mouth and look up to the Attendant, "Why were you watching me?"

Moon shrugs, "Bored."

"Yeah right," You scoff, "Not with the amount of shit you get into on the regular. What's your real reason, sport?"

"Sport?" He asks.

You wave your hand, "It's a combination of sleepiness and leftover drunkenness, just ignore it and save me some embarrassment."

"Noted."

"You didn't answer the question. Don't think I didn't notice," Your arm moves jankily as you point your finger at him. 

His faceplate spins, "We simply wanted to ensure you were alright."

"We? That's a shocker. I'm surprised he isn't having a hissy fit about you making such an implication."

There's a bout of binary before Moon answers with a sigh, "He is now."

You giggle, "Sorry."

Quiet for a few moments.

"Your belongings are located beside you," Moon points to where your bag sits on the floor not too far from the bed, "They appeared to be in order, though I can't say for certain."

Your eyes widen for a moment before you nod your head slowly, "Oh yeah, forgot about that. Thanks."

Moon nods.

"Sorry if I um, ruined your evening plans."

The Naptime Attendant chuckles, "Plans? What is it that you think we get up to, Pandora?"

"You know what I mean, I know you don't just sit and stare at the wall for hours until open," You shrug, "You explore, fuck around with your mechanics, which I don't approve of still," You send him a scolding glare, then continue, "Sun has gossip night with Chica, seems to be a bit crafty as well."

Moon whistles, or plays the sound, at least, "Impressive."

"Yeah, yeah," You wave him off, yawning.

"Seems you've expended your remaining energy."

You settle back into bed, "Getting there."

"Anything I can do to help?" He asks, shifting position to hang upside down from the beam, feet hooked over the other side. 

You scoff lightly, "You, aiding those in desperate need of rest? I don't buy it."

"It's my specialty." He insists, and you both quietly laugh.

"Want me back to bed that bad, huh?" You ask, hands clasping on your chest while you stare up at him, thinking.

"Have any good bedtime stories?"

His faceplate spins, "More than you'd imagine."

"Pick one for me then, and I think that'll do the trick," You nod once, affirmingly.

"Very well."

He starts, voice smooth, soft. Really, perfect for storytelling if you're being honest. It helps your mind to settle again, and well before the end, you're asleep again.

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself face to, back? with a yellow animatronic. 

Sitting up, you see Sun is slouched beside the bed, facing away from you. Examining him more closely you see there's a charging cord plug into the back of his head. 

Curiously, you reach out to poke him. 

"I'd appreciate the ability to recharge in peace, friend."

You jump back, cursing under your breath. 

Then, you huff, "There's no way you could tell what I was going to do."

"No, but a bot can have his suspicions," He turns to look back at you, "And plenty of mine have been right about you."

"'Plenty of mine have been right about you.'" You mock quietly. 

"How are you feeling?"

You sigh, shrugging, "Fine. Maybe a little hungover. I'll live, if you were worried."

"I wasn't," He retorts as you snicker, "But good to know."

You nod to the charging cable, "Thought the two of you switching kept you from using that too often."

At this, Sun flusters. Taking a moment to articulate himself.

"Typically. However, Moon felt-" A bit of binary, before doubling down, "Moon felt it would be unfair to have the lights on in any manner of speaking while you slept. So they remained off throughout the night."

You muse on the words for a minute, nodding thoughtfully. Inside, part of you is overjoyed, and the other is a mixture of shocked and maybe touched? You're not going to think on it further. Point is, Sun gave up his hours-willingly or unwillingly-to give you the chance to sleep. 

"Well, it's appreciated," You reach up and flick his forehead, narrowly dodging around him to grab your phone as he shoos you away. 

He grumbles a response you don't catch. 

Checking the time, it's around 8 am. Looking at your messages, Sun told Clara you'd be home by 10. Yikes. Good to know how little faith he had in you. Well, best not waste it. 

You stretch, giving a final yawn, "This place have a breakfast special? Feel like I swear I've heard about it at least once."

"It does, but I'll inform you it's not one that's served in bed."

"Relax. I can take care of myself just fine now," You throw off the blanket and stand up, "I'll be back. Hold down the fort in the meantime, yeah?"

Sun sputters, a "What?" As you pat him briefly on the back and march out of the room, on the prowl for food to satisfy your hunger. 

Once you find it, you sneak your way back into the Daycare. The Plex is still pretty much abandoned at this point in the morning, but you don't want to have to explain yourself if you don't have to. 

Walking in, you plop down on the bed beside Sun and dig into your breakfast sandwich. Either you're much more hungover than you thought, or this is delicious. Potentially, both. 

"Sorry you missed out on your shit talking session," You say between bites, "As a fellow disgruntled employee I know how important those can be."

Sun scoffs.

You turn to look at him, "And thanks for taking care of me. It's appreciated."

This appears to surprise him, rays ticking to one side, "You're welcome."

"You're not the worst person I've ever met, you know," You take another bite, "Up there, but you have your good qualities."

"That means the world coming from you," He says, hand on his chest and voice syrupy sweet.

You nod, "I know."

He huffs, it turns into a laugh after a moment.

"You're not the worst person I've met, either," His gaze meets yours, "Not as much as you believe yourself to be."

You pause, surprised. Then, you swallow, coughing, "T-thanks."

He turns away again. You continue to eat. 

A thought crosses your mind. 

"You know, if you were really worried about the light, you could've just closed the curtains."

Sun freezes. Then, he sighs, heavily. Hand coming up to run down his face before falling into his lap. 

"Yes. I suppose that would have, been an option."

You burst out laughing, which only grows as the two attendants seem to argue back and forth with each other. 

As you bask in the moment, you find yourself thinking back. 

Yeah, you weren't perfect, but you cared. A lot. And you think that says a lot. Means a lot.

To someone, at least.

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

Well, you can probably see now why this bad boy was scrapped as a chapter. Believe me I had the full intentions of saving it, but I'll admit once I saw an out by using it as a one-shot I jumped on it lol 

I don't know if it's everything that I wanted, but I think I hit the main points I'd originally set out to. 

To those who wanted affection with the CS boys, you got it! Just maybe not how you were expecting :) Ah, who am I kidding, you knew it was going to come at the price of angst

Sorry that I went awol for a bit, the antibiotics DID knock me on my ass and it was, rough, to put it plainly and I'm still going to have to get a scan lmao

idk man, I just want to be better already, I gotta propose (MY THESIS, I MEAN MY THESIS, I AM SINGLE) in a few weeks I don't have time for this >_< (she says, as if this hasn't been a 3 month saga)

Gahhh, anyway, hope you enjoyed! Have no idea how I'll feel from one day so you may or may not see me but know I'll be writing in the meantime (and enjoying it i promise, it's my hobby afterall) thanks for reading!

Tag list (hope I did this right, if you did not want tagged simply let me know and I'll remove you!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @eternal-soup (IT WON'T LET ME @ YOU I'M SORRY)

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse

If you want to be added to the tag list, or check out my other stuff, see this post here for more information, bye!

[possibilistfanfiction]

arcane: new years? (and hny irl too!!!)

[something small but on time, so that's a win at this point lol. just jinx & vi, we love sisters! & hny!!!]

//

you take powd—jinx to the mountains. at first, your sister had pouted, claiming she wanted to go to a party, that she'd missed out on it last year, but when you'd shown her the small cabin you'd rented, the snow and the fireplace, she'd softened. 'next year, then,' she'd said, 'promise we'll go to a party.'

you had; you're still getting used to making promises that don't feel like ones that you're inevitably going to break, that you spent years breaking, ones that cracked both of your whole worlds open. the ground shifts beneath you still, hard to trust, when you say, 'we can even host, if you want,' but it's worth it when her soft smile turns into a mischievous grin, one you recognize from when you were small, when you both hadn't hurt so much yet.

it's beautiful here, though, the grey granite stretching up to the sky, imposing and almost out of nowhere, plates shifting with such force eons ago, the shale and slate still here today. there are lakes dotted everywhere, clear teal and turquoise and blue, a different blue from the depthless sky, bluer still. the air, thin and freezing, is clearer than you'd probably ever breathed in your life; although it's biting cold, you bundle up and drag an air mattress out of the cabin so you can put it on the snowy deck outside. jinx follows, arms bundled with sleeping bags and blankets, her ski mittens on, her cheeks rosy and her eyes clear. she sets up your little nest while you go inside and get the two hot toddies you'd made in nice travel mugs vander had gotten you both for christmas, part of a growing pile of nice gear you'd accumulated over the past year you'd both gotten into climbing.

when you come out, mugs warm in hand, jinx is staring up at the sky. 'there are so many stars,' she says, her breath frosting a trail of ghosts up toward them.

you settle down next to her; she takes her mug. 'not as exciting as a party, i know, but i thought it'd be nice.'

she smiles at you, real and kind and here, a profound gift. 'yeah, vi. it is.' she ruffles your hair, grown back to how you actually like it, choppy and messy, with one side buzzed, instead of the neat crew cut you'd kept for the first few months of the year after you'd fully started at your fire station, trying so hard to look professional and respectful until your lieutenant had casually mentioned that no one cared, about your past or your tattoos or your hair — that you were one hell of a firefighter and that's all that mattered. you roll your eyes, understanding what she's saying — i'm glad you have people who care for you; i'm glad you get to be who you are — and pull a warm beanie on.

you lean back against the pile of pillows jinx has set up. 'you've had quite a year too.'

this time last year jinx was still in the hospital, in and out of episodes with periods of lucidity that brought equal parts hope and deep, profound grief, while her care team worked to figure the right combination and dosages of medications; this time last year, sitting in the cold under a sky full of stars with your sister, knowing who you are and speaking only to you, was beyond what you'd dared to hope for.

jinx blows out a breath, her cheeks fuller than the were a year ago too, her body still small and slim but healthy and strong, warm beneath a nice winter down jacket she's worn without any complaint. her first semester at university had just finished up, and she'd sailed through it, enjoying her classes and doing well in them, managing her medications and their side effects without an unmanageable or overwhelming amount of help from you.

'first one in a while i don't mind remembering.'

it's quiet, the way she says it, and you know you were right to bring her her, to come here with here, to sit with her in this beautiful place that knows nothing of the grief and the terror and the hurt; this place that can hold it all the same.

'well, cheers to that.' you hold your mug up.

'to many more years we want to remember,' she agrees. you see more and more of your little sister every good day that happens, shining through in moments like this.

you toast and it all feels lighter as you wait for midnight. you tease jinx about all the time she's been spending with ekko, which makes her grump and blush at the same time, and she teases you for having no girlfriend. you don't push the issue, that between picking up shifts at the last drop while you finished at the academy and then your job, plus helping to manage all of jinx's appointments and medication, you haven't had a whole lot of time to even think about dating, let alone emotional capacity to care deeply for another person. there's room opening up in your heart, though, just maybe.

'well, my resolution for the new year is to find you a hot girlfriend for me to annoy.'

you laugh, and she laces your fingers together and rests her head on your shoulder, snuggling into your side like she used to do when she was little. 'can't wait.'

eventually, as time does, it passes and the year is about to turn. jinx perks up, shaking off the sleepiness from the night and the splash of whiskey in her tea, and grabs a little remote from her pocket, grinning.

'there's no way you're about to set off fireworks in the middle of the mountains.'

'ew, no. i hate wildfires and disrupting the delicate flora and fauna. that's so lame and uninventive.'

she's so serious, rolling her eyes at the mere thought of it so hard that her head moves, that you have to laugh, happy. just, happy.

'but,' jinx continues, and your watch ticks down the seconds, 'happy new year, vi.' she pushes the red button on the remote and there are some small poofs from the snow. tiny machines fly up and scatter glitter everywhere. it's really beautiful, and it makes you a little breathless, suddenly like you're about to cry.

you tug her to you, kiss the top of her head. 'happy new year, little sister.'

'it's biodegradable glitter, obviously, by the way. i manufactured and tested it for months.'

your laugh is wet with tears but she joins in anyway. there's rainbows of glitter on the snow; jinx had planned this for a long time — faith in the passage of time, and the resolution of pain, and celebration, just for the two of you.

'it's gonna be a good year,' she says. 'i can feel it already.'

'yeah,' you agree. 'me too.'

[monstercampus]

Harpy Professor - First Meeting

(cws: slight alcohol mention, brief lewd references)

wc: 3.5k

Last night was a mess. Priam had been out all night partying with his friends, while Antón had been rage-cleaning the apartment in a frenzy in order to have everything spotless before the first day of term. The two of them you've gotten used to, of course, but their habits still tick you off when you're not in the mood to deal with them. Priam's drunken stumble back into the dorm at 4 AM didn't help either, as your vampiric roommate got into an argument with him over leaving the living room a mess. Exams have been over for weeks, and yet the two of them still find stupid things to fight about in the heat of the moment.

And you were left to endure it as best you could, your pillow clamped over your ears for half the night and your blanket pulled down over your feet by your shadow friend–who also seemed to be quite frustrated by your other tenants and their noise, trying vainly to block out the light and seal your door in his mist to try and muffle the ruckus. Either way you weren't going to sleep, not well, so now you've stepped into your first class of the new semester with bags under your eyes and half your school supplies forgotten. Just get through it today. Tomorrow will be better.

First on the roster this morning is Monster-Human Relations–a class you knew would be small, but not this small, with barely ten or so seats filled so far in the mid-sized lecture room. There's only about five rows of staggered desks on a slope anyways, with a curved, connected desk to separate the section from the front of the class and the podium. And you're a few minutes early, so you anticipate there'll be more students filing in as they wake up from their respective hangovers or hangovers-by-association, like yourself. Being an advanced class, though, it's not going to be much bigger than this. The only reason you're even taking this class was because the professor made a request for your attendance, and gave you special permissions to attend based on your unique species allocation. And lo and behold, even so, there's a face you recognize right as you walk in the door, his piercing eyes perking up as he lifts his head at the sound of your footsteps. It's Nick. Gods you are glad to see him. He peers at you through a few loose strands of dark hair, and at the sight of you a smile flashes across his face.

"Hey," He brightens up, pulling on the back of the chair beside him to offer you a seat. "Didn't know you were in this class too." He chuckles, though your look of relief doesn't seem to entertain him enough not to notice the weight of weariness you carry in your slumped shoulders. You're quick and eager to drop your bag on the table and slide into the chair, but Nick's worry stops you in your tracks. "What's up, buttercup? You look exhausted. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Roommates kept me up," You sigh, flipping open the lip of your bag to pull out your laptop. "But I'm okay. Can't miss the first class, anyways."

"Of course you can." Nicky's grin returns as you hoped it would, but it's gentler this time. "Besides, Wellwright's a big puffball. You can pretty much do whatever you want in his classes."

"I don't wanna be rude."

"You don't have a rude bone in your body." He's not flippant about it, but he does avert his eyes as he makes his comment–although it could just be because he's scribbling the date and the course number down in his thick notebook. "Wellwright's a super sweet guy, he was my mentor in Commonspeak class. He'll love you."

"You took Commonspeak?"

"Sure did." Those pearly teeth make an appearance as he chuckles, pride swelling his chest. "Barely spoke a word when I got here. Now I'm the most voracious person you probably know."

"Voracious?" You laugh, and he joins you, though as uplifting as it is it doesn't last for very long. You're grateful for it even so, your chuckling devolving as more people filter in and drawing to a close as the door to the classroom nearly slams off the hinges.

One moment of peace turns into chaos like the flip of a light switch, a pair of huge, strong wings entering the room with a scraggly, rough-looking man stumbling in alongside them. A tornado of feathers seems to cascade over the front of the room, flying off and whipping up with the breeze as those enormous wings flap and fold in an attempt to keep their host on his feet. Both you and Nick have to grab hold of your notebook and laptop respectively just so they don't fly off the table.

"My apologies!" He squawks, arms full of books and papers that also seem to be flying everywhere as he makes his way to his desk. You spare a glance over Nick's shoulder as he checks his watch, to which he taps and mouths "late" to you to elicit another giggle.

Raven Wellwright, a harpy of considerable acclaim, is definitely a name you've heard beyond the professor hastily scribbling it up on the whiteboard. Not only is he one of very, very few male harpies known to the world, but he's also very conveniently one of a handful of experts on the field of monster and human cooperation. He's penned a library of papers, articles, and books on the subject, won awards for his aid in developmental projects and awareness campaigns, and he's even been the first monster to be welcomed into a previously human-exclusive collegiate of considerable prestige. He's a rarity in all senses of the word…a rarity that's molting his feathers all over his desk, sweat gathering at his collar as his short waves of strawberry-blond locks falling haphazardly back into place while he shuffles around.

"Right!" He bellows out to the three-quarters-empty classroom, the tak tak of his papers hitting the podium echoing off the walls like glass marbles. "What was I saying?"

"You haven't started yet, professor." Nick calls out, and although it's certainly an awkward air in the room the harpy seems somewhat relieved that he hasn't already forgotten what just came out of his mouth.

"Right, thank you Nicholas. Nicholas!" He suddenly bursts into a frenzy, a smile plastered over his glowing face and his eyes sparkling with grateful familiarity. "Nicholas will be our note-taker this term, as well as your TA! Take a bow, Nick!"

Funny enough, even confident-and-cool Nick boasts a spot of shyness and a dark flush to his ears as he's encouraged to stand, turning around to wave at your fellow students who eye him up with varying degrees of interest, all while Raven claps with an eagerness to him that lasts until your friend reclaims his seat. Whispers dominate the classroom while Raven's head is turned, though it doesn't seem like they're just regarding the scatterbrained professor and his handsome assistant–especially not when he turns back and his square glasses-framed eyes land directly on you.

"Oh," That soft puff of air could just as well be a gunshot with how loud it feels to you, Raven's lithe fingers trembling slightly as he pushes his lenses higher up on his nose. For a split second, even with Nick's comforting words in the back of your brain, a tense knot of worry tightens in your stomach as you wonder whether your presence will be met with disdain.

"H-Hello! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," And yet that concern evaporates the instant he skirts around the podium, features bright and his wings rustling excitedly as he hustles towards your desk and thrusts his hand out to yours. You barely have to hold his at all with how violently nervous his grip is, fingers clamped down so tight you can just barely feel the itch of his filed claws for nails against your skin. "Raven Wellwright, P.H.D! I'd like to welcome you to our university–it is a joy and an honour to have you here!"

With one last tight squeeze of his unusually cool hand, he pats your arm and releases you from that iron grip to scurry back to his podium. As luck would have it, all he's got prepared for today is a review of the syllabus, which soon flies by despite being peppered with occasional comments and brief anecdotes to supplement it, courtesy of a now hyper-focused prof who clearly knows what he's talking about. It's almost a little intimidating to watch him switch so quickly from anxiety to decisiveness, the nervous shakes vanishing as he briefly divulges the core topics of the material you'll be going over. It actually helps to stir you a bit from your exhaustion, though the half-smushed granola bar in the bottom of your bag also helps once he reiterates that eating in his class isn't a faux pas.

"I'm sure you're all readily familiar with the plagiarism policy and academic conduct sections as well, yes? Any questions?"

A revolution of head-nodding round the room seems to suffice, and with a quick glance at the clock by the door Wellwright rolls out his shoulders and drops his papers against the podium with a refreshed sigh.

"Well, that's good enough for me! Take an early lunch and enjoy the rest of your day, we'll start with our introductory lecture next class–oh, and could you two come to my office for a spell?" As he passes by your joint desks he gives them a tap, making eye contact with both you and Nick with a reassuring smile as the rest of the class shuffles their bookbags and lets their chair legs squeak as they get up from their seats. Your heart kicks up with a nervous thump, thump, thump, but whether Nick can smell it or hear it or is completely oblivious to it he pats your thigh under the table and nudges your shoulder playfully.

"No worries. He probably just wants to gush over you." He whispers into your ear, and with a half-smile conjured up from your dwindling pool of strength you gather your things in kind and follow alongside the werewolf as you both make your way to Wellwright's office, the path known well enough to him that he can chat your ear off the whole way there, and still make it in time to watch the professor hustle along down the corridor with his bag in tow as the two of you wait for him to unlock the door.

"Come in, come in! Take a seat–anywhere is fine–and have a snack! I've got tea…uh, somewhere! Just give me a moment.."

It's most certainly more haphazard being around him in the cramped office than it was in the lecture hall–as Wellwright hurries in and you two follow behind, Nick has to bring his hand down firmly on your head for you both to duck, just barely missing the professor's wing as it swings around and nearly collides with both of you. And with the size and strength of those muscles and that coat of healthy tawn-coloured feathers, you don't even wanna know how hard it would hurt to get smacked with one of those things.

But, oblivious to your plight, the avian totters around his office chirping up a storm while the werewolf at your side leads you–with your heads appropriately bowed under his wing line this time–to take your seats in the two plush chairs across from his spacious corner desk. Raven busies himself by the window with what looks to be a teapot on a portable burner for a minute or two, before the spout starts to whistle a familiar tune and he expertly tips it out to pour three steaming cups of fresh tea. Ginger-flavoured by the smell of it, the scent pervading your nostrils in an oddly relaxing way as he lays out each cup in front of all three of you. Curious, you watch as he takes his own seat, and notice that the arms of his chair dip towards the back for each wing to settle comfortably in the empty slots. Monster creativity truly knows no bounds, no matter how benign the design.

"-Anyways, that's quite enough about me! I'd like to know more about you." His bangs flutter over each brow as he turns to meet your eyes, not an ounce of enthusiasm missing from his gaze as he takes a sip from his cup–and proceeds to splutter and cough with a napkin pulled up to cover his mouth, mumbling in a half-lisp about burning his tongue. When you follow his lead with a giggle you make sure to at least blow on yours, and it's actually rather sweet despite the strength of the ginger threatening to overwhelm you. "I–we–are well and truly excited to have you here! I can't tell you how integral your presence will be in the pursuit of monster-human cooperation–you are sincerely a gift to this establishment, and I cannot thank you enough for taking the plunge and attending despite the odd circumstances."

Somehow–perhaps it's an effect of the tea–the mouthful of praises the professor drops are free from his usual stutters and vocal stumbling, as if the topic of you is yet another subject he can't help but be eloquently passionate about. You, on the other hand? You're not even sure what to say to that...such high praise feels uncalled for, not that it's unpleasant in nature, but that it should be reserved for someone that's actually done something to deserve it. All you really did was go with the flow and refrain from kicking up a fuss.

"I, uh…th-thank you, professor, but I really didn't do much…" You shrug shyly, suddenly wishing you could disappear from the awkwardness and hide inside Nick's jacket for comfort. But the silent moment passes not in a hollow, nerve-wracking way, because it's filled by Raven's easy smile growing into something a little more intimate, his feathers settling to lay flat as he reaches over the desk and gently clasps both hands over yours.

"You took a risk, my dear. Unsure of what lies on the horizon, you chose a path seldom travelled yet long overdue for progress. That in itself is worth a world of praise."

You knew he could be eloquent, but that…that was poetry. And could that warmth tipping his pointed ears be a blush, coincidental with how his fingers retract from touching you? Worried his touches may come off as something more the longer they linger? Or are you simply reading into things?

"Maybe I should go," Nick teases, and that thankfully eases the tension enough for you to snap back into the reality at hand–and for Raven's feathers to ruffle in embarrassment as he leans away from you just to bump his head painfully on his overhanging lamp.

"Sweet Chaos–ah, I'm fine, I'm fine!" He waves away your worry while Nick erupts into a cheeky laugh beside you, the professor's unyielding clumsiness proving too much for him to keep it all sealed in. Especially hearing a string of curses fly from such a sweet, kind-hearted man's mouth, who wouldn't hurt a beetle even if it bit him. "Before I injure myself further, perhaps I should just get to the point." He sighs with a palm pressed to the back of his head, rubbing the soreness off the fortunately very minor bump there.

"It's the MHC thing, right?" Nick pipes up, sobered from the giggle fit but still grinning from ear to ear.

"Just so." Raven nods, those cotton candy-pink eyes shifting back to you. "My dear, I have a favour to ask of you. Would you consider being a human ambassador on my behalf?"

"...Ambassador? As in..?"

"Oh, i-it's nothing too taxing! Allow me to explain: being an ambassador simply means you would be willing to speak as an individual of your species for MHC conferences. It would really just involve me calling on your opinion and presenting it to the Monster-Human Commission–most of it will just be in writing, no more than a sentence or few."

"You mean 'sentence or two', professor." Nick cuts in, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. If you weren't mistaken, you could swear there's a glint of something fierce in the harpy's eyes as his gaze flits over to his protégé–but it's there and gone in a moment, and you try not to let the thought linger for fear of how it might make you wonder.

"Goodness! Surpassing your mentor already, eh? Maybe you should be the one teaching commonspeak, Mr. Wolf." He soon returns to the comfort of your gaze on him. "By no means is it a necessity, but it would be of brilliant use to my colleagues in the commission. Take some time to think about it, okay? There's no rush. You can start and stop whenever you please."

"I, uh…yes, thank you, professor. I'll give it some thought." Wellwright nods with a happy grin, and allows you to finish the rest of your tea with a few occasional spurts of scatterbrained conversation peppered in between. He's so courteous and well-spoken, gentle and kind…there's no wonder you've heard giggling from the harpy girls on campus when he's brought up, his dreaminess a total diamond in the rough for any self-respecting monster. An absolute gem. A-

"Hey, professor, I can't quite remember–are we reviewing interbreeding this term?"

As if burning his tongue and bumping his head wasn't enough, Wellwright balks at Nick's unforeseen question and nearly chokes on the dregs of his tea, the liquid splattering his chin with a cough that he's quick to wipe with the back of his hand. If it crossed your mind in time, and if you weren't so tired, you'd have half a mind to give Nick a pinch under the desk for torturing the poor man.

"C-Cross-species mating? Uh, ye…yes, we are.."

"Mmh. Gotcha. We've got a human this year, so maybe we can do our independent study on it? That'd be pretty helpful for your research, huh?"

What hits you right away is that he doesn't say no. Not that it's not his first reaction, but that the word doesn't even cross his lips. The slightest twinge of his brow has the harpy narrowing his eyes at the werewolf, and for a brief spell you think the professor might be humouring the exact same reaction as you were.

"Th-That would depend on the human's decision, Nick–and that is certainly not the full extent of my research, I might add!"

"Y-You, um…you study interbreeding, Dr. Wellwright?"

Your query flits out like the most timid of butterflies, curious and interested in equal measure. It must be so easy for both of them to pick up, but you can't really help it–the idea of such a sweet professor pursuing such a lewd scholarly topic is…fascinating, to say the least.

"He does. In great detail." Nick leans over to whisper into your ear, and the air in the room seems to change as Raven squirms anxiously in his seat.

"I-It's a necessary component of my research…" He mumbles, suddenly unable to meet your eyes as the heat in his face stretches to reach the tips of his pointed ears.

"So necessary." Nick adds with a shit-eating grin.

"Nicholas!” Raven finally huffs, brow furrowed and eyes dimmed of their sparkle. Oh, now he's mad. And yet, with a glance over at your companion, Nick couldn't look more enthused about the prospect. They certainly seem to be on familiar terms with how much teasing your friend knows he can get away with. Ripples start to part Wellwright's feathers like shudders, and almost under his breath, he quietly asks if you would give him a moment with his T.A–and you have never been more quick to oblige, setting down your teacup at an earnest pace before your bag is slung over your shoulder and you're soon closing the office door firmly behind you. The click of the lock echoes in the otherwise empty corridor, and though you'd like to wait for Nick out of courtesy, the hushed whispering that ensues followed by the flap of your professor's wings clues you in that perhaps it would be better to give them some…privacy.

Although, at the very least your phone buzzes before you've even left the wing, a glance down at the messages revealing that Nick's gonna be tied up for awhile, but he's alright. His words echo in your head, “Wellwright's just a big puffball”, and it loosens a pleasant sigh from your throat as you let your shoulders relax. The last thing you want is to get anyone in trouble, which you seem to do quite easily by your very nature of being human.

This class may end up being a different story though, if your professor's…enthusiasm towards the human race is anything to go by.