#outside of english lessons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gracieheartspedro · 5 days ago

Text

Lessons in Art History

my main masterlist - eddie munson masterlist

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 10.5k (tehe sorry not sorry)

description: eddie needs to graduate. a stupid summer art class is getting in his way. luckily for him, his neighbor and childhood crush is an art history major. and you're ready to make a deal.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no use of y/n, reader is in college, both parties are 18+, mention of abusive parents, drug use, consumption of alcohol, mentions of relying on alcohol, mentions of body mutilation, eddie is a doesn't understand art and you really do, smut, lots of tension, no mention of specific body type, dubcon (both are under the influence, they are tipsy/high), oral (f recieving) unprotected p in v, body worship, dirty talk, eddie cums 'quickly', eddie finishes inside. eddie just really loves your body. aftercare.

authors note: this has been sitting in my docs forever. i finally finished it on a whim. enjoy me combining two things i really love! art history and eddie munson <3 if you guys want to see more of these two, pls don't hesitate to pop in my asks. also thank you to my beta's aka @pedgito and @amanitacowboy! kisses to the both of you! MUAHHH!!

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

Eddie did not understand art.

The fact that he even had to take the stupid art history course in summer school aggravated him. When the teacher would blab on and on about different mediums and their importance to history, he found himself almost dozing off. Sure some of the paintings they were studying were cool, but it seemed very… pretentious.

But he’s failing and he can not be failing.

As soon as he saw your old Chevy pull into the driveway across from his, he knew he was in for a treat this summer. Seeing you again would only send his heart racing, he knew that for sure. When he sees you in passing, mainly when he’s heading to the school in the morning, you always offered a passive wave and pleasant smile. You had only gotten more beautiful since you left for college.

Luckily for him, his childhood crush and next door neighbor was in college studying Fine Arts and she was home for the summer. Finally.

You had just concluded your freshman year at Indiana State University. It had been a dream of yours since you were a kid to go to school for art. Saving all your money made from the diner downtown helped with a good chunk of your first semester and your second semester was proudly sponsored by your rich aunt. Lucky you.

You had plans to spend your summer working on some art pieces to build your resume. Your preferred medium was watercolors and oil paints, so your small bedroom was littered with canvases and cold-pressed sheets. You have lived in this trailer your entire life and it was by far the messiest it’s ever been. Not just from you, but from your mom and younger sister. You spent most mornings picking up after them, and you soon realize that’s all you have ever done your entire life. The reason the house was this bad was because you were now gone and not slaving to keep the base boards dusted.

You needed to get out of the house.

So you started spending time outside, occupying some lawn chairs on your back porch. The shade was limited to one corner of the broken down rotted wood, so you positioned the chair there and set up your easel.

There had been a couple occasions in the time you have been home where you had seen your neighbors and had very basic conversations with them. You said hello to Max Mayfield when she skateboarded past your driveway, but you do not believe she actually heard you. Wayne Munson had waved to you one day when he was leaving for work. And then of course the moments you saw Eddie.

He had not changed one bit, that boy. You had a sneaky small crush on him when you two shared a couple classes together your senior year. You had lived right across from him for practically your whole life, yet when he sat next to you in English class, you felt yourself stealing glances and sharing hushed jokes together. You were not sure if the crush was loosely based because you two were always in close proximity to each other, but he was cute.

One particularly hot afternoon, you hear the crunching of your dying grass on the side of the house. You glance up from your canvas only to see him.

Eddie was supposed to graduate alongside you but between all his absences, bad grades, and mischievous behaviors, he failed. Twice.

You put your paint down on a rusted out table, wiping the excess colors on your shirt with your elementary school mascot on it.

“Hey,” You say lightly, shooting him a gentle smile. You could not lie that your stomach did a bit of a flip when his eyes locked with yours. And just like that, Eddie is reminded why he used to like you so damn much.

Your smile was enough to make a man halt in place, and that’s exactly what he did.

You seemed disheveled, which Eddie found oddly attractive. Your shirt was covered in dry and wet paint, looking like you just wipe whatever paint you’re not using on yourself. It was an array of colors, but mainly different hues of blues and yellows.

He quickly starts to regret his initial plan. Originally he was going to catch you leaving your house one day, asking how college was going, and see if you were interested in helping him study for his next test. But you never left your house at the same time, and he could not just casually hang out outside 24/7 waiting for you. That would be weird. Stalkerish.

So after one particularly bad quiz, he worked up enough courage to walk straight up to you while you sat and worked magic. Problem was, he did not plan what to say, only thinking of it as he approached you. And of course, when you say ‘hello’, he quickly realizes you stole his voice with your gaze.

You just look at him, sensing he must be lost or something.

He finally finds his voice after clearing away some phlegm, “I need your help.”

Your eyes flicker to your canvas, inspecting your work from another angle as you hop off the edge of your deck. Eddie starts to get nervous as you approach him, your eyes still firmly planted on your art.

Eddie used to ask you for the dumbest favors when you two were kids. He used to knock on your door and ask for random ingredients, to walk with him to the mini mart down the street, just anything to get you out of your house and talking to him.

Looking back now, it was kind of sweet he even thought to invite you, but you were not interested in helping with housework or walking along the back roads of Hawkins with him.

You finally look at him, pursing your lips in faux contemplation, “Eddie… I’m not helping you mow the grass-” He waves his hands in the air, halting you from talking. “No… it’s not that. I am in summer school-”

It was your turn to cut him off, planting your hands on your hips, “Again!?”

He exhales, bringing his ringed fingers over his face and dragging his lower lids down in frustration.

Eddie was a lot of things, but he was not stupid. You knew he was smart if he applied himself. Problem was that he was bad about caring about school. You remember the days of sitting behind him in 10th grade Algebra and you almost failed with how much he interrupted class to laugh with some friends in the last row. He was the very opposite of yourself.

He crosses his arms over his Metallica shirt that he’s been wearing for two years, using his fingers to fold his lower lip as you stand like a scolding mother.

“I need to pass this Art History class and I failed the first quiz already. I need it to finish out my credits. Please-” You roll your eyes, matching his stance by crossing your arms. Art History was the easiest subject to you and you adored learning more about it. And Eddie knew that, too. You realize you’ll have wet paint all over your arms as soon as your arm sticks to the front of your shirt.

“What’s in it for me?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise, surprised that you are open to tutoring him so quickly. You watch him nod his head, dreaming up how he can repay you. “I’ll smoke you up whenever you want. And… whatever else you want, I guess.”

“Smoking me up whenever I want?”

You like the sound of that. You were just like every other art student at your college. Using substances to get you through each day. Lately, it’s been wine you get from the gas station down the road. But drunk painting is not as productive, so you mainly use it to numb all the other depressing things in your life at night.

You missed smoking weed, but you have not had the budget to buy.

But if tutoring Eddie Munson in your favorite subject would get you free weed, you could not say no.

Eddie nods quickly at your response, desperate to pass. And if it meant hanging out with you, too, it was a win-win-win all around. “Yeah, I just need to pass this class-” You cut him off again, “Okay, fine. But we have to do it at your house.”

You did not need him seeing your hoard of paintings and messy house. And now you had an actual excuse to leave your house.

Eddie shakes his head, blinking at you curiously.

“Yeah, no problem,” He claps his hands in front of his body, twisting his foot a bit like a child would, “When can we start?” The wind picks up, and you watch his hair fly across his face. You giggle, watching him brush his locks away from his mouth. You could not deny how cute and endearing he could be occasionally. “What days do you have class?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

This would be a breeze, you think to yourself. You assume immediately that you would only need to see him two days a week. No big deal.

You head back up to your deck, taking your canvas off the easel, “Then I’ll see you on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” You stop in movements as he simply states, “Today is Tuesday, sweetheart.”

Your head shoots around, seeing the cheeky smirk playing on his lips. The nickname he called you sends a slight shiver down your spine. It sounded nice coming from him.

You roll your eyes, though, assuming he means you had to start today.

“Let me grab my notes and change,” His face brightens up at your words. “I’ll be over in 15 minutes.”

You soon realize two days a week was not going to help Eddie. You added Monday evenings to the equation pretty quickly when you realized he did not even have the proper textbook.

“Emerson gave it to me! He told me it was the one he used last year!”

You just rolled your eyes and read his syllables to him, out loud, obnoxiously. He giggled the entire time, commenting about how you should have been a school teacher.

You two would sit in his bedroom from five in the evening until 8 at night, mainly on his unmade bed, going over different texts and art pieces. Around 7, he would offer you to smoke, which you always agreed to. By 8:30, you were high as a kite and ready to go home. He would send you off with a ‘goodnight, sweetheart’ and watch you walk back over to your front door.

You notice pretty quickly he was always fiddling with his hands, tapping his pencils, biting his fingernails. He could not sit still and it drove you insane. You gave him one of your stress balls one day, hoping the silent squishing would ease his jitters, but instead he started throwing it up and the air. You took it from him soon after, scolding him.

He was virtually impossible to teach.

You finally get him on track when they start studying Van Gogh. You would simply help Eddie interpret the art, as well as give him the basics information on the artist.

He thinks it’s funny when you explain how Van Gogh cut off his ear, laughing hysterically when you show him the self portrait.

“Look at his goofy little hat! And the bandage around his head?”

You could not help yourself today. You roll your eyes and sit back against the edge of his bed, trying to redeem your resting easygoing expression. It was becoming too hard, but you distort your smile back on and pivot to him. His face is twisted in amusement, knowing his comment has you reeling.

It was only Monday and you had two more evenings explaining art to him. You could not get him to love the subject, but you try to place the ideas into his day to day life. It seems to stick better when you put it in those terms. It’s hard to do with Van Gogh, sadly, so you just listen to him cracking jokes until it’s time to smoke.

He hands you the joint, his lips pursed in contemplation as you take the hit. You are sitting back against his wall, crossing your legs vertically across his bed. You look more relaxed on his bed than he does.

You exhale, handing him back back the roll. You really needed this high to bring the tension away from your shoulders.

“So, what did you learn today?” You probe, seeing if he actually learned anything. You would not be surprised if he said something about Van Gogh’s ear again. Instead, he just smirks at you, tilting his head back on his wooden headboard.

He takes a drag of the joint, his jaw ticking as he blows out the smoke. “That you’re very patient with me.”

You bite your cheek, preventing yourself for smiling. He could see right through you, no matter how hard you tried to disguise your annoyance with him.

“You’re giving me free weed and all I have to do is explain basic concepts to you,” you explain, reaching over to him, brushing your arm across his knee and thigh. The physical touch leaves goosebumps all over your arm.

“Like 40 times, over and over again.”

You smirk at that, “Again. Free weed.”

“And the company, of course,” He says as he leans forward, poking your thigh with his pointer finger.

The comment makes your stomach flip, butterflies sprouting as you watch his smile get wider.

You honestly would not have done this if it was any other guy from Hawkins High. You hated most of the people you graduated with, knowing they were all assholes or weird. Or both.

And while Eddie was an oddball, he had manners and knew where to draw the line with you. He never made you feel unsafe or awkward. He was just so shamelessly himself and somehow that meshed well with your personality.

“Yeah, you’re alright I guess,” You sneer, trying to act as coy as possible. You could feel the heat burning your cheeks and Eddie noticed it, too. He would not say anything though, just trying to rid his mind of the feeling of your arm brushing across his leg earlier.

“I just don’t get the point of big red squares on big black canvas.”

Week 4 proved to be the week where they throw high school summer school students into the deep end. You curse the teacher as soon as Eddie comes home with print outs of Mark Rothko’s abstract paintings.

You really enjoyed Rothko’s work, having seen it in person in Chicago on a school trip. You almost felt protective over his art.

So when Eddie goes on his normal rambles about how silly art really is, you cannot help yourself.

You grab the print out of the unnamed yellow orange piece, “There’s nothing to get Eddie, it’s just…”

“You said this Rothko guy was this infamous artist and all he does is paint shapes,” He looks at the paper over your shoulder. He’s currently sprawled across his bed, while you sit on his floor with all the dust bunnies. His head is right next to yours and you can feel his curls laying on your bare shoulder.

Why did you wear a tank top today?

You huff, sitting forward a bit, “Eddie, it’s not about what he wanted it to be, it’s what you interpret it as.” “Well it’s squares. That’s all I interpret, sweetheart.”

You inhale a deep breath, the anger rising within you turning quickly into how you could break down the kind-of pretentious pieces. You had to admit that Rothko’s ideas were pretty out there. You also knew that they seemed very grandiose to an average person, but he had his intentions in the right place.

“Can I explain it to you,” You look up at him, your faces inches away. It causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “Cause you’re just… so wrong.”

A smile crosses his face, waiting for you to go into detail. “Go on, princess.”

You look back at the print, cocking your head to the side. You had explained his art to other people before but you knew you would have to phase it down a bit for Eddie.

“Rothko is not telling you to feel one way or another,” You point at the orange part of the pieces, “You may see those squares, but it’s more about the colors. The paint strokes. You see them in person and they are like… all consuming. His point was not to make something for himself, it was so that observer could reflect inward and use his art to their advantage. To grieve. To be happy. To reminisce. So it’s not about the squares. It’s about what the colors evoke.”

His finger points right beside where yours sits on the page, “What does this one say to you?”

You smile as you reflect on the painting. It’s not exactly where it needs to be. Rothko does not need to be a printed flimsy piece of paper, it needs a huge canvas, but it still evokes something in you. With Eddie over your shoulder, the ideas flowing within you sends goosebumps across your neck and back. His closeness only adds to the slowing of your heart rate.

“The yellow and salmon color make me hopeful. Like I can actually get somewhere and be something. It reminds me of some beautiful sunrises I’ve had the privilege of watching. Makes me feel like I’ll be alright.”

Eddie’s eyes search your face, watching your lips twitch as you observe the piece. It kind of spilled out of you. You try not to get too into your perceptions of art with him, simply just giving him information and making him write and conclude his own opinions. But art is the only thing in the world you felt held by and on rare occasions, you had to bare your soul. Eddie was just the unlucky bastard to hear about it.

The gentle way you describe things, every word sounding so precious, made Eddie’s whole head explode with adoration. He spent so many evenings watching you, quietly admiring the way you moved, the way you spoke, and while he knew the crush he harbored was major, it only got worse spending these last few weeks with you. He got to see your little unique quirks up close and he was hopelessly in love with you.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his voice a bit strained. You glance up at him, completely whiplashed by his response.

The way he’s looking at you makes you believe he does not even realize he said that out loud. His eyes soften, as you scan his face. Your gaze falls to his lips before you finally speak up, your heartbeat in your ears.

“What?”

His eyes widened, realizing his mistake. He sits back and snaps his gaze away from you. Your cheeks heat up as you come to realize you had read the situation correctly. He rubs his hand over his face in embarrassment, trying to gain his bearings.

“I’m.. I didn’t mean to… say that out loud.”

He’s fumbling over his words, which makes a smile creep across your face. You knew what it was to blunder like this, having done it one too many times with guys you liked. You wanted to reassure him without making it seem like too big of a deal. But boy, was it a big deal.

“It’s okay,” You manage to say, trying not to giggle. You cannot help yourself, though. As soon as the breath leaves your mouth, he groans.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He is standing up now, rolling off his bed. His tall frame starts to pace his bedroom, his hands never leaving his face. He could not bear to look at you.

You pull your knees into your chest, trying to ease his nerves with a simple, “Don’t be sorry, it’s completely okay.”

He stops in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips. You cannot help but find him charming, his face all red, his hair untidy, his shirt twisted from the way he was laying. You had to admit, in a not-out-loud-way, that he was beautiful, too.

“You just got on that whole tangent and the passion you had for the art put me in a trance and…” He starts to pace again when he sees your lips curve up, “I just… yeah.”

You giggle, his words sending your heart racing even more, “I put you in a trance, huh?”

He slaps his hand over his forehead, realizing he can not stop saying stupid things. “Studying session over. ‘M rolling a joint.”

It was final day.

The last couple weeks with Eddie consisted of a lot of him really diving in head first into the topics they were discussing in class. While he still needed your guidance on dissecting certain pieces and how they related back to the artists, he was coming home with quizzes that had red scribbled ‘B’s’ on the top of the paper. That’s all he needed to pass.

You had settled with the fact that Eddie was never going to bring up what he said to you again. After that evening, he was hesitant to even sit a foot away from you, always residing on the opposite side of the room.

It hurt a bit. You do not know if he actually meant it or not, and the mystery of it all was eating you alive. When you would let your eyes linger on him for longer than usual, you wanted to crawl out of your skin when he would intentionally look away from you. He was avoiding it, and you knew it.

But Eddie was not avoiding it. God, he wanted to. You were consuming every thought in his head. When he was in class he was thinking about you, because you were teaching him even more than the teacher was. When he was driving home, a song would play and he would somehow relate it to the way your eyes twinkled at him or how your smooth voice would send tingles down his spine. When he was home, trying to have some down time, he would catch himself staring out his bedroom window, wondering what you were doing in your room across the street.

He was officially losing it.

On final day, he got in his car, his fingers nervously tapping his steering wheel, hoping to the heavens and angels that he would pass so he could race over to your front door and leap into your arms in excitement. He just wanted to be near you, always.

When he gets the bubble sheet back and sees a 89/100, he jumps up out of his chair and hoots like a banshee. He could not believe his eyes as he gripped the paper with an iron fist, waving it around to all 4 of his classmates. “I’m graduating, fuckers!”

He could not get home fast enough. With the paper sitting on his dash, he flew over curbs, unable to maintain his excitement at passing the stupid class.

When he pulls into Forest Hills and fails to see your car in your driveway, his heart skips.

Had you left to go back to school early? Without saying goodbye? Were you just out? Maybe you had just gone to the grocery store?

As he parks the van, he snatches the sheet up and takes his time getting in the house. He glances back at your place a couple times, failing to see any signs of life through the slightly drawn open windows. His mind was spinning with all the possibilities, all of them equally making him spiral. He places his test down his record player, swipes up his rolling tray and starts to get as high as he possibly could. He would check your driveway practically every fice seconds, willing you to appear, but after an hour, he ashes out a joint and lays back on his bed, defeated.

You pulled into your driveway, noticing Eddie’s van haphazardly parked in his driveway. You were tempted to pull in front of his house and knock on his front door to ask how the test went, but you were up all night getting drunk and wallowing. A fight with your mother really took everything out of you and you had next-to-no energy.

You waste no time getting inside and throwing on your comfiest pajamas. You cuddle up in your bed, soaking up the quietness of your trailer as you have it completely to yourself tonight. Sleep eventually finds you after a bit, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. You take your time getting up, wandering through the house to the front door. On your way there, you stop and grab the half drunk wine glass on the counter. You had left your current self a little gift last night, it seems.

You get to the front door, slamming the wine before you turn the handle. As you open it, you see his curls first. You wipe the dribble of red liquid away from the side of your mouth, puckering your lips.

“Hey,” You say simply, trying to hide the wine glass behind your back. He knew you drank, but you did not want to look completely disheveled in his presence. You already had bed head. “Hey, uh… I passed,” Eddie mutters, his hands gripping onto his test sheet. He holds it up, a small smile expanding across his face, “I got a B on my final, so… I’m on track to graduate this year.”

He looks nervous, but your heart jumps in excitement for him. This is the best news you have heard all day. You put the wine glass down on the wooden entry table and fly out the door. You wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up and down as you congratulate him. “That’s awesome, Eddie!”

His hand gently graces your waist, shifting your oversized t-shirt up a bit, revealing that there are shorts underneath. You hear a small chuckle escape his throat, almost reflecting some sort of relief.

You really knew how to make him feel special, practically throwing yourself at him. “All thanks to you,” He whispers as you pull away from his grasp. You still have your hand on his neck, pressing your fingers into the collar of his jean vest. “Oh please…” You shift back, dropping your arm to your side. You giggle, watching him crumble the test paper and stuff it into his pocket. You move back a step, “I’m happy though. Truly. You earned it.”

There’s a pause between you two, both just staring at one another. You want him to say something back, unsure if your celebration was a bit too much. His face drops as if he’s remembering something. He digs in his jean’s pocket, hissing as he searches for something. He pulls out a small joint, the rings on his fingers sparkling in the sun’s rays. The sun is finally going down, shadowing a golden hue over Forest Lawn. “I uh.. Have a celebratory joint.. Do you want to smoke?”

Your smile gives away your answer. You push your elbow into the door, opening it wider for Eddie. Having the whole place to yourself would serve you some good tonight, but Eddie was not much of a bother. Plus, free weed.

“Yeah, I actually have the house to myself, if you want to hang here?”

His eyes light up, surprised that you are allowing him in your space, “Are you sure?”

You nod, gesturing him to join you inside, “Yeah, it’s cool. Mom’s working overnight, sister’s at Max’s.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Initially you decide to just hangout in the living room, but then you realize your mother would somehow smell the remnants of marijuana, so you offer Eddie the space of your room. He nods timidly, walking behind you through the kitchen. On your way through, you grab the already half drank wine bottle and walk to the end of the hallway. You push open your door, showing off your messy and cluttered room to Eddie.

“My room’s a mess, just a warning.”

You crack open the nearest window, before settling on your bed. Eddie stands there, taking in your room and art pieces. Stacked canvases take up most of the floor space, as well as a peeling easel. You pat your unmade bed, trying to get him to sit. He toes off his sneakers and plops down on your full-sized bed.

He places the joint between his lips, something you hyperfixate on for a moment. Watching his mouth wrap around something so small makes you pause. His perfectly symmetrical pink lips were something that caught your attention often.

You uncork your wine as he flicks his lighter and pulls some smoke.

“You are gonna smoke, too, right,” He asks, handing over the rolled weed. You take a swig of the bottle, letting the cheap alcohol slide down your throat.

You gesture him the bottle, offering him some of your own vice. He’s a guest, after all. “Yeah, I am. Want some?”

He shakes his head, scrunching his nose at the idea of drinking. “Not a wine guy. Thanks, though.”

You two sit there in a comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth. When you feel enough of a buzz throughout your body, you stand up and decide to show off your newest pieces.

You had never been one to show off your work. You did not mind if people looked or admired, but you’d rather not be in the room when it was happening. You were more afraid of failure, which to you, was someone not liking your work. Criticism. Such a scary thought.

You grab a painting you created of the woods at the entrance of Forest Hills, a densely packed row of trees with the sun only slightly beaming through some breaks in the leaves. It took you a week to complete it, having spent most of your free time in the evenings with Eddie.

You turn the canvas over with one hand as you grip your wine bottle at the same time. Eddie shifts on your bed, laying on his side and propping his body weight up on his elbow.

The moment his eyes find the canvas, his jaw drops.

“Holy shit, sweetheart. That is incredible,” He sits up on his butt, his dark curls shifting around his shoulders as he does. “You could fill an entire museum with the amount of canvases in here.”

You beam at his words, a sense of unnerving weight that you carry around, suddenly lifting off your shoulders. You felt pride swirl in your stomach, watching him stand and approach one older stack of paintings.

You place the piece of art down, feeling the tackiness of the clear coat on your fingertips.

“That’s the dream, one day.”

He shifts some watercolors you did around, staring at them with the joint between his lips. He looks so focused and enamored with your work. It’s endearing seeing him able to admire art after dealing with him for weeks just poking fun at it. “Oh, you’ll get there,” he states with confidence, the bud wiggling between his teeth with his words. He takes it out of his mouth, finally looking back over to you. The rush of heat to your cheeks could be attributed to the alcohol, but he is sure it is because of his praise. “You’re incredible.”

And you can tell he means it. What you don’t know is he means it in every sense. Your artistic ability is just the tip of the iceberg.

He swallows, letting the tension rise a bit as you muster up the courage to step closer to him. The joint is burnt out, now just a roach between his fingers. You place the almost empty wine bottle on your desk, practically invading Eddie’s space as you step one foot closer.

The weed has loosened him up a bit. His body feels weightless and his mouth is one of the muscles that has relaxed with the rest of his limbs.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, looking down at you with a lopsided grin. The moment is reminiscent of the first time he told you that, but the energy in the room is more charged than last time.

The whites of his eyes are red, his lids drooping a bit more. You can feel the heat flush your cheeks as his gaze falls down over your face and to your lips.

“Thanks, Eds,” your voice not crawling over a whisper. This time when you acknowledge his compliment, he does not backpedal. His eyes don’t stray away, nervously finding a way to bring up a new conversation. No, this time, he’s confident and sure fire about telling you how he felt.

He had been holding onto it for so long, and soon, you would be back at school. He knew your mind would stray to other places, other things, other guys. And he knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did not express his feelings for you.

“Truly, I mean it,” He mutters, shifting on his other leg. You can tell by the way he’s fiddling with his rings, he is nervous. The only thing you can think of is his lips, especially when he licks them, “You are… probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

The statement catches you off guard at first. Maybe it’s the alcohol distorting your confidence, or maybe it’s the nerves of him getting an inch closer. You clear your throat, finally darting your eyes away from his mouth. “You are high.”

A smile spreads across his face which warms your skin, prickling tiny bumps scattering down your arms. “And right,” He emphasizes, placing the roach down by your wine bottle. Instead of putting his arm down, his hand inches towards the curve of your cheek. There’s a glint in his eye, something hinting at you to lean towards him. And you do. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

Your eyes flicker away, your vision falling onto your bedroom door. You had hung up a mirror there when you were 12 and became hyper aware of your appearance. Your mom was very good at making you feel inferior, so you would spend hours sitting on your bed and staring into your mirror with contempt. You had learned how to love yourself a bit more since you were not living at home, but coming back has only reminded you of all the things you hate about yourself. But the characteristics you did like about yourself seemed to shine a bit more as you stood next to Eddie.

“I think I have pretty traits,” You muster up, looking away from your own reflection. Eddie does not accept that. The moment your head snaps back in his direction, his fingers drifting down to your jawline, “No, baby, you are the whole package. Not just a couple things. You’re perfect.”

Perfect. You had never been appreciated by any guy like this. You did not know Eddie had it in him.

“Eddie, you’re just saying that-” He somehow forces you to look in his eyes. He levels with you, his eyes looking serious and bloodshot, “I’m truly not just saying it to say it. I… I have thought like this since like 8th grade, sweetheart.”

It feels like all the air has been pushed out of your chest. You choke out two words, “You what?”

And then Eddie cannot help himself. It’s like he had been gearing up his entire life for this moment. He just needed the push. And the way you are looking at him right now is enough for him.

“The moment I realized I was completely beside myself into you was when you pushed that girl on the school bus for saying I was a freak for having longer hair. You literally pushed her into the aisle and stepped over her to get off the bus with me. I knew then I was a goner. You were all I could see.”

The day is so vivid in your mind. You even remember the t-shirt you were wearing that day. It was a memory that stuck with you, too. You did not realize you had made such an impact on him. It’s endearing to know he thought about you in that way. Endearing and… reassuring?

You try to break the tension, clearing your throat, “Well, she was being a bitch.” But he does not laugh, he just stares down at you. The rise and fall of his chest insinuates that he’s on the verge of panicking if you do not respond positively. “Yeah, she was.”

The silence eats away at you. The last part of his statement bounces around in your brain.

“A goner?”

Your nose wiggles and Eddie cannot deny how much he just wants to lift you off your feet and ravish you in that moment. You did not know the effect you had on him just by changing your facial impression to something so disgustingly cute. But it was the way you shifted under his gaze, your hand trailing up to his side, toying with the hem of his raggedy band t-shirt.

He returns the touch, his other hand propping up on your waist. The warmth moves around to your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

“Yes, princess. A goner.”

His eyes droop and his mouth stays ajar as you too creep closer and closer together. The energy is surging off the ways, striking you in the back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hand trails down to your neck, the coldness of his rings shocking your system further the moment they touch your collarbones.

You lick your lips, slowly. It’s enough to make Eddie groan.

“You still feel that way?”

He shakes his head, almost to say ‘duh’. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. You sticking by me all summer and puttin’ up with me only confirmed that I am practically in love with you.”

Your heart could hammer out of your chest at any moment. You feel the chills only further drive your nerves. You shake your head, your hand now balling up his shirt. It’s almost like a threat. “I don’t believe you-” He cuts you off before you can continue. “Let me prove it to you.”

You watch his hands carefully drift down your chest, his fingers resting right on your breast bone. Your breath hitches and you slowly release the fabric between your fingers. You cannot help but trail your eyes back up to his lips, watching him teasingly lick them before leaning in further to you.

His pupils are huge and you are almost positive it’s because of the weed.

But it is not just that. Your scent alone is enough to make his cock swell in his tight black jeans. You have yet to notice, but once you do, Eddie knows his cheeks will go bright red.

The smell of weed is slowly being pulled out of your room by the crisp evening air pouring in from your window. It brings in a chill that has you shifting closer to feel his hot breath on your face. He is suddenly your heat source.

His head cowers down, his wet lips pressing hesitantly against your jaw. Your voice quivers as he drags his lips all the way to your chin. Your lips are so close, he could just press them together. But somehow that seems more intimate.

“Is this okay?” He ponders, millimeters from your mouth. You swallow back a hasty hum.

“Mhm.”

You were never shy of making the first move in situations like this, but your body has completely locked up. You are at his mercy and you are almost positive you would let him do anything to you right now.

His hands move quickly, sliding down your curves and committing them to memory.

You just close your eyes and wait. You feel it coming and seeing him get closer is going to send your heart beating out of your chest. When his lips finally grace yours, you two move slowly. Dragging out each movement, tongues slowly slipping past teeth.

Your brain draws a blank for a beat, not fully digesting the fact that you are kissing him. After weeks of getting high with him, teaching him about a subject you're passionate about, and that slight tension in the air. Especially after he first called you beautiful. That night you went home and tossed and turned in your bed.

Now he’s gently backing you up to the edge of the mattress, causing you to drop onto your bed with a bounce. He does not waste any time, connecting lips again and giggling as you lay on your back.

Eddie cannot believe you are below him, so willing to do something like this with him. The moment he starts to get in his head about it, he slowly pulls away from you, almost not to alarm you in any way.

But the way you look at him. He feels this pull in his chest, like a gravitational drift back to you. He hovers above you, eyes searching your face.

“God, you couldn’t get any more perfect.”

The heat returns to your entire body. “Stop.”

“Never, sweetheart.”

It seems like he’s going back in for another kiss, but instead he’s pressing his lips against your cheeks. You cannot help the smile that takes over your face. Your hands find a good spot, raking your nails gently through his scalp. The groans that escape him send pulsating need to your core.

The moment you wrap your leg around his, it’s like a signal for him to further his exploration. His mouth drags across your skin, leaving his saliva in its wake. When he stops at the base of your throat, your hips jolt forward. You feel his jeans straining to keep his cock in one spot.

“More,” You mewl, your shorts riding up with your t-shirt, revealing your thighs and hips to him. He cannot help the strangled chuckling that comes out when you start to beg for him. As if he could not get any harder.

“More, huh?” His digits spread out, dragging up your oversized shirt and kneading your flesh. The motion has you grinding against his leg even more. He’s dragging it out and it’s so painful. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off and completely unravel you.

He spares you the pleading and pushes up the fabric to reveal your bare chest. You had not planned to have guests and to be quite frank, you completely forgot you had no bra on. You thought he would have to fumble around to get the full display. He puts his weight on his one knee, admiring you for a moment. You get a bit nervous when he pulls away, only to quickly realize he’s brushing his hair up into a bun.

It gives you a better look at the beautiful smile on his face and his lust blown brown eyes.

“Can’t let the hair get in the way of all the things I’m about to do to you,” He admits, pecking you over and over again until you are laughing. “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

“I can,” You quip up, watching him unhinge his jaw right above your right nipple, “I see the way you look at me.”

Eddie shakes his head, his stubble brushing your flesh. His giggles subsiding the moment his lips wrap around your areola. You knew you were sensitive but you never felt so overstimulated in your life. The way his hands feel scooping your flesh. The way he is practically trying to fit your entire tit in his mouth. His guttural groans bouncing off your walls and canvases.

He consumes every one of your senses.

“Been dying to see you like this. You have the prettiest titties I’ve ever seen,” His voice is so gravelly and dripping with desire. Eddie needs to break the tension in his jeans, so while you are slipping your shirt off entirely, he pops the button on his pants. The zipper practically unfastens itself when he presses into you again, ravishing every inch of your chest. One hand on your waist, the other kneading your boob, all the while your hips are gyrating against his thigh.

“Need more of you, Eds,” You plead, hoping to whatever god existed that he would litter your floor with all of his clothes. You watch him free his hand from fondling you to pull his t-shirt off from the collar, only briefly coming up for air from feasting on your chest. “Take off my shorts.”

The moment you say that, his eyes bore into yours. “You sure?”

“Eddie,” You press, pushing stray hairs away from his face, “I need you so bad, I may explode.”

“Jesus, say that again.”

You cannot help but scoff, your reaction making your boobs jiggle in front of his face. You lean up to his level, pressing a long drawn out kiss to his neck before bringing your lips to his earlobe, “I need you. So bad.”

The animalistic groan that leaves his throat even takes him by surprise. He stands up, grabbing the waistband of your shorts and practically ripping them in half. You squeak, adjusting how your panties sit on your hips.

“Listen here, pretty girl, I am going to eat your pussy until you cum at least two times. And I’m gonna take my time. Then, if I don’t cum from doing that alone, I’m filling you up and fucking you exactly how I’ve wanted to for the last… I don’t know how many years.”

His game plan makes your stomach do gymnastics. His confidence in his words is simply derived from his primal need to please you.

Sure, he wants to get his rocks off, but he could live the rest of his days with blue balls, if it meant seeing you cum all over his mouth over and over again.

The creak of the bed makes Eddie giggle. You have had this bed since you were 11, it has seen better days.

He positions himself on his stomach, throwing your legs over his shoulder. Your panties were perfectly disguising the wetness that’s been pooling since Eddie started touching you. It was the only article of clothing left on your body. You want to feel insecure, but all of Eddie’s reassuring words wash over you. He sucks in a deep inhale, taking in your essence.

“Can I take these off?” He tuts, pressing his fingers perfectly between your fabric-covered folds. The pressure is almost enough to send you over the edge. The craving you have for him is borderline embarrassing.

“Please,” You whimper, shifting your hips a bit trying to feel any friction you can. He pulls his fingers away, lacing them around the hem of your blue panties. Instead of locking his eyes on your glistening core, his gaze follows the panties being pulled from your legs. Once they are discarded, he presses wet kisses against the inner part of your legs.

“You look like a dream, all spread out for me,” He admits, his face now hovering over your core, “You know I dreamt this before?”

He had. Countless times. Last summer when he watched you pack up your car for college, you were wearing these dangerously short daisy dukes and he stroked his cock about it for two months straight. Late at night, when he needed a release, he thought of you. He did not get much actual action in his day-to-day life, so his mind was consumed by his soul shattering crush on you.

“Eddie, I need you to do something.”

He ignores your pleas, dragging his lips across the skin right above your slit. He slowly drifts down, running his tongue through your folds, tasting every bit of you.

“Just me having my face buried between your thighs,” He slaps them gently before digging his nails into the meat of your thighs. “God, these thighs… just so perfect.”

You jut your hips down, practically forcing his mouth on you. As much as you loved his dirty talk, you needed action. “Eddie.”

He chuckles, pulling his arm from underneath you. He takes his own fingers in his mouth, lacing his own spit between his digits, “You are so pretty when you say my name, baby. You want me to touch this beautiful pussy, hm? She’s just leaking for me, huh?”

You grit your teeth, watching him spread your pussy lips apart and drag his fingers all along your weeping hole. “I swear to God-” “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue, don’t worry baby,” He pushes your thighs open wider, “Just painting my own little picture first.”

Truth be told, he was trying to drag this out so he could commit everything to memory. You would be leaving for school again soon, so who knows if this will ever happen again?

In your head, with the way he’s treating your body like a canvas in the finest art museum in New York City, he would be packed in your suitcase and dragged back to school with you. You needed this, always.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when his mouth returns to your pussy, his tongue vibrating against your swollen clit. His fingers make work at fucking your hole, all the while his loose-lips occupy themselves making you feel good. Sure, you got head by guys before, but Eddie creates a whole different category in your brain. Maybe it is because you liked him so much and your body moved in sync with his. You were consumed by his very being.

His hips grind against his underwear and your bed sheets with every movement of his mouth. As he’s dragging your first orgasm out of you, he completely halts his lower body before he’s cumming in his jeans watching your body jolt forward and thighs clench around his ears. The sounds that pour out of you is music to his ears. Just enough to send him so close to the edge.

The mixture of your cum and his saliva on his lips is something you wish to harness in a painting one day. His loose curls falling around his profile as his tongue sweeps across his lips to gather everything onto his taste buds.

“God, this pussy is heaven. Fuckin’ divine.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit, giving it a quick swat before he peppers some kitten licks across your already sensitive clit.

“You are so good at that, my God,” You breathe out, your hands raking down the sides of your body, meeting his right hand on your thigh.

“Yeah?” he giggles, shifting up onto his elbows to get a better view of your body from above, “I really want to make you cum again.”

You don’t hide how desperate you are, “Can you just fuck me already?”

He laughs even harder, crawling up onto your lower stomach. He kisses right below your belly button, “Can I be honest?”

“No, I want you to lie to me,” You joke, your nails drifting around his forearm. His eyebrows raise, questioning your response silently. You roll your eyes, swatting him, “Yes, of course.”

“If I fuck you right now, I will cum almost immediately,” He admits, his voice gravelly.

“Well, we can go another round if you do.”

It’s like all the air leaves his lungs when you say that. He did not expect you to want to do this again. As much as he wanted to, he did not truly know where your mind was. You just drove the nail right into the coffin.

He pulls himself further up your body, his hand shifting to cup your mound as his mouth latched on your nipple. Your body instantly reacts to him, practically holding onto him for dear life, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew.

“Fine, I’ll fuck you now,” He mocks, dragging his lower lip up to your neck, “Since you’re just begging.”

You scoff, your hands finally reaching the waist of his jeans and yanking them down with his boxers. You would ignore the fact that he’s wearing Batman boxers. It was fitting, but also hilarious. You are more focused on the fact that he was huge.

Definitely the biggest you’ve ever held in your hand.

He looks between your bodies, smiling at the way your hand cradles his length. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming right now?”

This only happened in his dreams. It was about to consume your dreams, too, when you were done.

“All real,” You say, languidly pumping him, “I’m not sure how you’re gonna make it fit.”

You are feeding his ego. You knew that.

You are one of the prettiest girls to come out of Hawkins and you are saying he’s too big. He’s never going to shut up to Gareth and the guys about it. With your permission of course.

“Don’t you worry about that, princess. I’ll make sure it fits.”

He shifts onto his knees, propping your knees up on his waist. You gawk at it for a moment longer. His tip is glistening with precum, which only adds to the silkiness of it's appearance. You also have the perfect angle to feel up his chest, touching each of his tattoos with your pointer finger, as if to map each of them out. You offer a cheeky grin as he appreciates the swell of your breasts.

“Do you need me to get a condom?” He whispers, his cock probing at your inner thigh.

“I’m on the pill. And I’m… I haven’t slept with any guys without one.”

His jaw drops a bit, “And you are okay with me going in raw?”

You are not sure why you are so sure about Eddie, but you just are. All of this felt just right.

“Yeah. Only if you want to.”

Air escapes his nose dramatically as he uses his thumb to press down his shaft closer to your weeping hole. “Have I mentioned that you are perfect?”

“A million times now.”

“Gonna make it a hundred million by the end of this,” He sinks closer to you, his dripping tip diving between your lips, “And a trillion more times after.”

He drags himself over you, propping himself up right beside your head. The stretch starts to get more intense the more he slides into you. It is not a bad feeling, just something you would have to adjust to.

And he would have to adjust, too. The way your spongy walls squeeze him is so overwhelming, before he’s half way in, he twitches. “You’re squeezing me so good.”

“I’ll try to relax,” You manage, the quick snap forward he does taking you off guard, “Fuck, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry! I-” He tries to explain, but you shut him up by propping yourself up to meet his lips. He stills inside you, filling you to the brim but not moving. You were eager to shut him up before he made things awkward, because they simply did not need to be. He felt incredible. And with his lips slotted between yours, you feel as if you may have died and gone to heaven. You take his bottom lip between your teeth playfully as you pull away, eyes locked onto his, “Do it again.”

He experimentally pulls back, the lack of resistance as he fucks into you only possible because of how soaked you are. He repositions himself so he’s back on his knees, eyes locked on the way your pussy just sucks him in.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last,” He reminds you, pushing himself in deeper. He throws his head back, staring at the ceiling for a bit. You cannot help but smirk at him, looking down as his hips snap to yours sluggishly.

“Yeah? Pussy’s too good for you?” You pose, trying your very best to drive him even more insane. There was something about his eyes when he got all worked up. They become this deeper shade of brown that causes chills to spread over your arms. When he finally looks back at you, a cheshire grin spreading across his face, you knew you were in for it.

He picks up his pace a bit, holding your upper thighs down. If he looks down at what’s happening below the waist, he will surely lose it. So instead, his almost carbon-black eyes bore into yours. With every moan and jolt against the bed, you are inching towards your own climax. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.”

His smile droops a bit, his teeth clenching as the pace he’s at is causing the headboard to slam against your wall, “Yeah? I want to hear you. Tell me how good it feels, sweetheart. You know how much I love hearing you talk.”

The words send you babbling. Your pussy is practically gushing around him, but your body has yet to explode. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Eddie. Why didn’t we do this sooner? Knew you’d treat me good. So fuckin’ good.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, baby. Gonna fuck you every day just to make it up to you. I promise,” He accidentally steals a glance at your messy cunt and his dick twitches, “Ah shit, fuck.”

He knows he’s a goner. The way you squeeze him when he says that makes him take action to put you out of your pleasurable misery. He presses his thumb against your practically pulsating clit. The mixture of his pistoning hips and his frantic fingers makes your orgasm slam into you like a freight train. You grab onto whatever is close and curl your fingers around it. It just happens to be his t-shirt and your bed comforter.

With your mouth wide open, you keen endless curse words, trying your best not to alarm the nearby neighbors.

As your come down starts to soothe your buzzing nerves, Eddie’s hips still completely inside you.

You had never seen him so ethereal. His curls wild, his brow furrowed in concentration, his pale stomach muscles tense, jaw slack. He was surely your next muse.

“My god, princess,” He sighs, his body practically going limp over yours.

His hair falls around your mouth and nose as his head rests perfectly between your boobs. The curls tickle your nostrils, causing you to blow out aggressively.

“I love you, but please get your little hairs out of my nose,” You joke, pushing his hair down. The bun he put at the base of his head is practically completely undone, leaving his dark locks pooling all around you.

While you are too focused on his hair, Eddie’s ears are ringing at the first half of the sentence. His head slowly shifts to look up at you, his eyes now that beautiful warm hue. “You love me?”

His voice is shaking, nervous over the possibility you did not mean to say that. But it was one of those things. Instinctual. You knew you did love Eddie, so those words leaving your mouth seemed natural. You felt no need to retract them.

You nod, pushing some bangs away from his view, “Is that surprising? I don’t spend my precious summers with people I hate. I especially do not let them into my bedroom and let them look at all my paintings.”

The revelation is enough to make Eddie crawl up to your lips, pressing a chaste, eager kiss. His hand cradles your cheek as he pulls away, “I’m just that special.”

“You could say that.”

He laughs softly, “For the record, and I know we are keeping one, I love you, too.”

The goodbye always sucks.

You did not love being home, but this trailer was truly all you knew. You secretly did not despise Hawkins. It was home.

And now it was even more like home because it’s where Eddie was. So this goodbye is even worse than it was before.

He pulls your last suitcase into your Ford, closing the hitch for you as you hug your sister goodbye at the door. You walk down your creaking steps, eyes glued to the way Eddie stands at the back of your car. You practically fall into his arms, squeezing him so tight that you swear he may just mold to your body.

His hands do not want to leave your waist as his nose tucks into your neck.

“I’ll come visit you in a few weeks, I promise,” He hums, kissing the spot right below your ear. A slight chill runs up your spine. You will never get sick of his kisses. You have gotten very familiar with them lately.

“And I’ll come to visit in October for that Battle of the Bands,” You say as you pull away to get a good look at his face. His sweet, blushing face. “I’ll join your hoard of groupies.”

He scoffs, shifting back as if he’s appalled, “Hoard? That’s a bit dramatic. We have like… maybe 2.”

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. “Yeah, me and that girl Jeff drags around.”

“Jennifer is his cousin.”

You shake your head, completely dumbfounded, “Even worse.”

He laughs dryly in his throat, “I think she has a crush on Gareth or something.”

From the few times you have hung out with his group of friends in the last two weeks of your summer vacation, you did not get that impression from the girl. She seems very into her cousin.

“Right on,” You laugh, pulling him towards the driver’s side so you can get in, “Give me a grand kiss in front of the neighbors and let me go on my merry way.”

His hands lace around your back, groping your ass, “I’ll give ‘em an even better show if you want.”

You bring him down to your height, pressing a longing kiss to his lips. He deepens it, his groping now turning into him kneading your ass cheeks. You pull away the moment he does that, knowing your mom is probably watching from the kitchen window.

“You are a devious one, Munson,” You snicker, weaving your way out of his arms and into your driver’s seat. You start the car, letting it warm up as Eddie leans his hands on the very top of the car doorframe. His entire body blocks out the blistering sunlight, his shadow casting over your eyes.

“Yeah, maybe, but you love me.”

Your eyes flicker back up to him. God, you really did love him.

He slants more towards you, placing one more kiss on your mouth. Your stomach starts to roll when it hits you that you will not get to see him for the next few weeks. It makes your chest tighten the more you thought about it.

“I sure do.”

His nose crinkles, his eyes getting weepy, “I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, get on the road and call me sometime tonight? Let me know you made it safely?”

You lift your hand in a salute, “Of course, my art apprentice.”

np tags (love u guys and i gotta tag some of my fav eddie/steve writers): @mediocredreams @hockeyhughes @votel4dybird @minamoomoo @disabilitymissunderstood @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #gracieheartspedro #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

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dear-ao3 · 3 months ago

Note

You can't hide the bit about starting a cult in the tags. We demand the story.

once upon a time i was a menace of a 15 year old taking high school chemistry. and this was not a particularly advanced chemistry class. we had ancient bunsen burners, occasionally we lit things on fire, sometimes there were chemicals involved, but for the most part, it was standard run of the mill shit.

the class was divided into two groups of people:

The Trouble Makers and the People Who Didnt Cause (many) Problems

as a mostly straight a and usually honors (when it wasnt science) student, i fell into the second category.

this class was 8th period, last period of the day, and the teacher was new that year. we will call him mr a.

mr a was on the younger side and seemed like a dude who wanted to have fun with us (essential for a science class). unfortunately he was teaching a batch of idiots (myself included).

its been several years so i dont remember the exact politics of this class, but i do know that it was populated by the two guys who stuck a pop tart still in the foil in the band room microwave and nearly lit the entire building on fire, a few class clowns, some very stereotypical football players, two guys who were positively dumb as bricks and constantly acted like they were on the verge or breaking up or getting back together (they were not dating at all. they were both and still are very straight), and then there was me and a few other girls who mostly just minded our business and watched the chaos unfold.

mr a's mistake was that he engaged with the insanity caused by The Trouble Makers. which resulted in even more insanity. he only lasted one year. he hated all of us but he might have hated himself more.

he did like me and my friends tho because again, we did not cause problems.

you might be wondering what kind of problems could be caused in a high school chemistry class. well lots. for starters one of the outlets in the room was taped over with NO JUSTIN! BAD JUSTIN! written on it because one kid thought it would be funny to stick scissors in the outlet in a different class (true story). there were broken beakers, smashed glass, general insanity. again, not an honors class so most of us didnt really care about it as long as we passed. there was one time he told us (jokingly) that we should only drink pepsi because his wife worked for the company and it would help fund his kids college career or something. two days later five guys came in with coke bottles. that was the kind of class this was.

but we still learned chemistry. probably. i dont actually know.

this guy taught lessons like he was reading a tumblr text post. like full on "so the guy hated that guy cause xyz and smited him in the science journals for this that and the other thing" it was entertaining.

i remember learning two things in this class. one was that salt is NaCl. which mr a called "our good friend nackle" the second we will get to in a minute.

one of the things we had to do in class relatively early on was decorate a periodic table that we would be allowed to use for tests. like color code and all that. we were allowed to use it for tests because there was a Giant periodic table hanging in the room and mr a was "too short to cover that up"

well, that periodic table proved to become his worst nightmare.

now. remember that i am 15. i am a sophomore in high school. i have not yet had to consider the horrors of college. i am at peace. aside from this chemistry class i am also taking a dance class (that i didnt like), ap english language (which was terrifying because im really bad at deeper meaning in texts), honors algebra 2 (which i Barely passed), latin III (another class i was pretty shit at, but it was fun), crafts 2 (which was wonderful), gym (thats a totally Other story) and honors united states history (which i loved). i was also dancing about 20 hours a week outside of school. but most of my schedule required me to be a good little honors student and mind my business. i was also, by all accounts, an absolute loser and a nobody and had very few friends and was totally unknown to most popular kids. however, you all know me on this blog and know im a little shit and it was only a matter of time before i caused problems Somewhere.

and that somewhere came one blissful day during 8th period chemistry when mr a asked me something about the number of electrons on carbon.

and i (to my credit) was entirely zoned out because again it was 8th period. but i gave him an answer. it was the right answer. what the answer is now i have no idea because i went on to get a ba degree in history and my eyes have not graced the periodic table since this class.

and then he asked me "how do you know thats the right answer"

and i said, in all my zoned out, infinite wisdom "it says so on the periodic chart"

isnt a periodic table? you might be asking.

well you are correct.

but you see. the giant periodic table above the front of the board at the front of the room was from the 70s. and it didnt say periodic table. it said "periodic chart of the elements"

and i, being zoned out, just read the damn name off of the thing because what the fuck else is a girl to do.

and mr a says "its a table. the periodic table."

and i, who have now zoned back in and realized my mistake, refuse to admit that i was just zoned out in class so i say, like any reasonable person, "then why does it say periodic chart up there?"

and mr a said "i dont know, its old."

and i said "well it says chart. so why cant we call it chart?"

and mr a said "because its a table."

and me, because im a little shit and also 15 and there were probably also 10 minutes left in the school day said "i think we should be allowed to call it a chart. it says so right there."

and well. that was all the go ahead the trouble makers in the class needed to hear.

from then on, it was the periodic chart. we all called it that. all of 8th period. and mr a HATED it. if you wrote chart on your test you got points taken off (which i never did because i wasnt an idiot but i would put little smiley faces next to my answer and he would draw a frown face when he graded my paper next to it). if you said it when you answered a question he would pretend he hadn't heard you.

it was such a phenomenon that it spread to his other classes. everyone called it the periodic chart. the scissors in the outlet kid. the pop tart kids. the football players. everyone. it was a chart. not a table. to this day i still call it a chart.

though, i think he was just mad that my cult (which he did call a cult, the periodic chart cult) was more successful than his stoichiometry cult. which was basically that we all had to repeat stoichiometry back to him every time he said it. that is the second thing i learned in this class. dont ask me what it is though, i just remember the name.

at the end of the year we parted ways, mr a silently glaring at me for my chart crimes, never to return to our school (probably because he got fired, unrelated to my chart crimes). despite this, he did still like me as a student, and i did get an a in his class, though it probably pained him to give it to me.

the following year i had physics in the same classroom, periodic chart overlooking me.

i used my iPhone 5c to take a photo of a white board and accidentally dropped it six inches onto the lab bench. the screen grayed out and it never turned on again.

the chart had cursed me for my hubris.

#not a tag #from saph #the periodic chart #if you went to high school with me and you remember this no you do not #somewhere in my room at my parents house i still have the chart and the tests he wrote frown faces on if i remember ill pull them out #when im next home

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hrts4nagi · 4 months ago

Text

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay here all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

#☆⌒(ゝ。∂)#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock oneshots #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi sae #blue lock fluff #blue lock drabbles #sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n

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rose24207 · 4 months ago

Text

How my dad does it

Summary: Ji-Woo imitates her father’s Ddakji game at school, offering chocolate for wins and punches for losses, believing it’s what he would do, forcing her parents to reevaluate the lessons she’s learning from him.

Genre: Dad!Salesman, Husband!Salesman, angst, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: This idea popped up in my head while I was unloading the dishwasher btw. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Your husband had always been a man of contradictions. On the surface, he was charming, calm, and unassuming—a perfect husband and an attentive father. But beneath the polished smile was a man who thrived in the shadows, orchestrating games that could change lives in an instant. You knew his work wasn’t conventional—far from it.

Still, you’d chosen this life, complications and all. You loved him, even if his job often walked a fine line between thrilling and terrifying. He never brought it home, though. His line of work stayed outside your front door, and for that, you were grateful.

Or so you thought.

The phone call came just after lunch, interrupting what had been a rare moment of peace. The principal’s voice was calm but laced with tension, a tone you recognized immediately as bad news.

“Mrs. y/l/n, this is Principal Kim from Ji-Woo‘s school. We need you to come in immediately. There’s been… an incident.”

Your stomach dropped. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. But we need to discuss her behavior. It’s… unusual.”

The office was small, with beige walls and a wooden desk that felt far too large for the space. Ji-Woo sat in a chair across from the principal, her legs swinging as she hummed softly to herself. She looked perfectly content, which only made you more uneasy.

“Mrs. y/l/n,” Principal Kim greeted you, gesturing to the chair beside your daughter. “Thank you for coming.”

“What happened?” you asked, glancing between her and Ji-Woo.

The principal folded her hands on the desk, her expression unreadable. “Ji-Woo has been… conducting a game at recess.”

“A game?”

“Yes. She’s been playing Ddakji with her classmates. Do you know what that is?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Of course, you knew what it was. You’d seen your husband play it countless times—slapping paper squares against the ground, his movements quick and precise, his smile sharp and dangerous.

“It’s… a game her father likes,” you said carefully.

The principal nodded. “She’s been challenging other children to play. The winner gets a piece of chocolate.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you said cautiously.

Principal Kim raised an eyebrow. “The loser, however, gets punched.”

You stared at her, stunned. “What?”

The principal nodded grimly. “Ji-Woo has been telling her classmates that they have to accept the rules. Win, and they get chocolate. Lose, and they get hit. According to the children, she said, and I quote, ‘That’s how my dad does it.’”

You turned to Ji-Woo, who was now examining her shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Ji-Woo,” you said slowly, “is that true?”

She shrugged. “It’s just a game.”

“A game where you hit people?”

“Well, Daddy does it,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

The room went silent.

The principal cleared her throat. “Mrs. y/l/n, while I understand children often mimic their parents, this behavior is concerning. We’ve spoken to the other children and their parents, and they’re understandably upset.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your mind racing. How much had Ji-Woo seen? Your husband had always been careful about keeping his work separate from your family life. But clearly, something had slipped through the cracks.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said firmly. “This won’t happen again.”

The car ride home was awkwardly quiet. Ji-Woo sat in the back seat, her arms crossed, her expression stubborn. You didn’t say anything until you were both inside the house.

“Go to your room,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“But—”

“Now.”

She stomped off, muttering under her breath.

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the counter. You didn’t have long to gather your thoughts before the front door opened, and your husband walked in, a bag of groceries in one hand.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile. “How was—”

“Your daughter got in trouble at school today,” you cut him off.

He frowned, setting the bag down. “What happened?”

“She was playing Ddakji,” you said, your voice sharp.

His confusion was obvious. “Okay…?”

“And when her classmates lost, she punched them. Because, and I quote, ‘That’s how my dad does it.’”

His face froze, his usual composure slipping for a moment. “She said that?”

“Yes,” you snapped. “Apparently, she’s been watching you more closely than we thought.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Where is she now?”

“In her room. And you’re going to talk to her.”

You stood in the hallway, listening as he knocked softly on Ji-Woo’s door.

“Come in,” she said, her voice muffled.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. You waited, your heart pounding, as their conversation began.

“Ji-Woo,” he started, his tone gentle but firm. “Your mom told me what happened today.”

She didn’t respond.

“Why did you do it?” he asked.

“It’s just a game,” she mumbled.

“A game where you hurt people?”

She hesitated. “They agreed to the rules.”

He sighed, sitting down beside her. “Ji-Woo, listen to me. I know you’ve seen me play Ddakji before. But what I do… it’s not something you should copy.”

“Why not?” she asked, her voice small. “You always say I’m like you. I just wanted to be like you.”

His heart twisted. “Ji-Woo, being like me doesn’t mean you have to do everything I do. What I do isn’t always right.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. “But you’re my dad. You’re supposed to be right.”

He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes, adults make mistakes too. And I made a mistake by letting you see that side of me. But from now on, I want you to focus on being kind, okay? You’re smart and strong, Ji-Woo. You don’t need to hurt people to show them that.”

She nodded slowly, her lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled her into a hug, holding her close. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m proud of you for being honest. But no more hitting, okay?”

“Okay.”

Later that night, after Ji-Woo had gone to bed, you found him sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

“I messed up,” he said quietly as you sat beside him.

“She’s six,” you reminded him. “She doesn’t fully understand what she’s doing yet. But she looks up to you, and that’s not a bad thing.”

“It is if I’m setting the wrong example,” he muttered.

You placed a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “You’re not perfect. None of us are. But you’re a good father, and Ji-Woo knows you love her. That’s what matters most.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping us grounded,” he said. “I’ll do better. For her. For you.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. “We’ll do better,” you corrected.

Because no matter how complicated life got, you were in it together.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

#squidgame 2 #squid game thanos #squid game s2 #squidgame x reader #squid game imagine #squid game #squid game spoilers #the salesman x you #the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #the salesman #netflix #dad!salesman #husband!salesman #school #south korea

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bread-toast · 5 months ago

Text

pt1 pt2

thinking about…

teacher!gojo who hasn’t talked to you since he was a teenager

teacher!gojo who spends all of his time alone on missions, lesson planning, and training his students

teacher!gojo who despite his goofy demeanor is strangely repulsed whenever shoko teases and jokes about setting up a blind date for him; who only ever considered you when it came to romance

teacher!gojo who knows it would be crazy for you to give him a second chance after your high school fall-out

teacher!gojo who’s busy schedule leaves him longing for rest but can hardly get his three hours of sleep when you consume his thoughts

teacher!gojo who gives in after so many restless nights and realizes he needs to get over you

teacher!gojo who coincidentally sees you on the arm of another man on his way to his blind date and goes absolutely berserk

teacher!gojo who knows he has no right to be jealous over what could have been (it was his fault that nothing happened between you two after all!)

teacher!gojo who can no longer stand the ache in his chest when you transfer to Jujustu Tech as a new teacher and you greet him oh-so formally in the dingy break room

teacher!gojo who’s balls his fists but stays silent every time you leave work eying his figure, regret so obviously present in your eyes

teacher!gojo who finally decides to talk to you again, your constant presence overwhelming him with guilt

teacher!gojo who swore he would be collected but spills out apologies resisting voice cracks and tears when he notices your glassy eyes and quivering lips

teacher!gojo who embraces you with a longing saved over a decade of isolation

teacher!gojo who lets down his infinity for you to weep in his arms and punch his chest for being so difficult all those years ago

teacher!gojo who listens while you recall his actions between sobs

teacher!gojo who only holds you tighter, closer to him as if to never let you go again

teacher!gojo who starts visiting your classroom with snacks between breaks and making up for lost time

teacher!gojo who arrives to school early for the first time ever, standing outside Jujustu Tech’s gate waiting in the snow with a bouquet blushing like a schoolboy

teacher!gojo who knows he’s rushing it, but he just can’t wait to be yours anymore than he has!

teacher!gojo who gives his first genuine smile in years when you meet him gasping in delight at his out of the ordinary demeanor and gifts

teacher!gojo who confesses to you, the memories of years prior so bittersweet and he’s trying not to cry when he senses hesitation in your eyes

teacher!gojo who’s the happiest he’s ever been when he realizes that you, the untouchable kind amazing you has given him another chance to be yours

teacher!gojo who lets you wrap your arms around his neck dragging you into a well deserved strawberry-lollipop-flavored-kiss spinning you around in joy

teacher!gojo who’s heart drops when he notices that the bushes and trees behind you start to fade, dreading the truth he had known from the start when he sees your face get more and more blurry

teacher!gojo who only wants to deny what his six-eyes tell him for as long as he can

teacher!gojo who wakes up alone in bed, blindfold soaked in salty tears when he realizes he had dreamt of you again.

teacher!gojo who forces himself out of bed, not bothering to put on a coat as he makes his way out of his apartment

teacher!gojo who’s found the next morning by shoko, puffy eyed and unmoving by your grave

teacher!gojo who knows deep down that if he had acted sooner, confessed sooner, finished off that curse sooner, done anything sooner you might have, no, you would have still been with him happily together

teacher!gojo who knows that no matter how hard he tries, he is always too late.

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

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed! English isn’t my first language and it’s one of my first times trying writing but I really enjoyed these hcs! I wanted to give this a happy ending to satisfy everyone who read pt1, but I just couldn’t find a way to do so while writing. I want to work on a few one-shots soon, so I’ll definitely have a happy ending for gojo on a more fine tuned piece! Please let me know if you have any recommendations on improving writing and any requests for fics in the future!

#gojo satoru #gojo sensei #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #jjk

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stove-top96 · 3 months ago

Text

Wicked Game

Ch. 00

Y Batfam x GN Reader

featuring: platonic Tim Drake.

1.3k words

It’s been a hot minute. I broke my hand snowboarding, then had tests. The writing for this one is significantly better, I’m taking a creative writing class for extra credits and decided to try something new with how I formate my chapters. I’ll be posting a chapter to both my story and my concept soon. This idea has just been in my head and the story I have planned out is exciting.

Prologue -> Ch. 01

Class Schedule

1st period: Art

2nd period: Maths

12:00 - 13:00: Lunch

3rd period: biology

4th period: English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00: Basketball practice

(Friday 5:00 -> Basketball game)

You twirl your pencil between your fingers, lazily watching as everyone else scribbles notes, following the math equation Mr. Snyder is rambling on about. It’s been ten minutes on the same question, and you’ve checked out about thirty minutes ago. Not that it’s Mr. Snyder’s fault—Gotham Prep has the best teachers. It’s just maths has never been your thing. It’s 2 weeks into the new semester and you're already falling behind. Probably not a great start.

You glance up at the clock—11:53. Ugh. Lunch can’t come soon enough. Mr. Snyder’s voice makes time drag on and on. You dash out of the classroom the moment the bell rings and head straight to Brandi’s locker.

“Girl, I’m literally gonna lose it. I can’t handle these people, they’re insane,” you spill out, frustration pouring from you. Rants like these have become more frequent.

“Tell me about it,” Brandi shoots back, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I’ve never met people so out of touch with reality. These pretentious assholes.” She grits her teeth. “How are they even real?”

You nod, walking together towards the cafeteria. Brandi continues her rant, but it’s nice—almost comforting—to know someone else feels the same way. She’s the only other Scholarship student in the grade—your only friend.

Lunch is its own endeavour. Students give weird looks as you two eat your packed food. The two of you learned very quickly that these kids were in a league of their own, and didn’t take too kindly to outsiders.

As you and Brandi talk mindless gossip, lunch flies by. biology’s next it’s your favourite. There’s nothing better than Mrs. Young’s lectures. She’s able to bring life to the lessons, and the material has a way of sticking.

Heading to class a little early you grab a seat near the back. It’s the only table without another person there. Mrs. Young tends to be late to class, so what better way to pass time than to scroll on your phone. Engrossed in TikTok a voice snaps you back into reality.

“Mind if I sit here”

Glancing up from your phone, you recognize the face almost instantly— you’d be stupid not to— Tim drake. Dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a ‘pretty boy’ face. He’s practically the ‘it boy’ of the school, popular, friendly, and stupid rich. There’s still plenty of other open seats around the class. Probably beside people he’s better acquainted with. But he wants to sit with you? “Sure” you shrug, not like you were gonna talk to the guy.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, Mrs. Young still hasn’t shown up. The silence between you two is suffocating, even inside the room filled with mindless chatter.

“I’m Tim by the way” his introduction was meant to ease the awkwardness. He knew that you knew who he was. “y/n” you answer, praying the teacher will walk in, anything to get you out of this conversation.

”you’re on the basketball team right? You got in on an athletic scholarship?” He asked, ignoring the way you slump into your seat. “Yep” you mumble. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for students to recognize who’s on scholarship and who isn’t—especially athletes. But for him to know you're on the Basketball team 2 weeks into the school year— Kinda weird. But questioning him would mean talking to him, and you weren’t gonna engage.

Before the silence could get too awkward Mrs. Young walks in, and begins the lesson. The lymphatic system. It wasn’t your weakest subject but definitely not your strongest. Today is especially hard. Mrs. Young is unusually keen on racing through as much of the topic as possible.

You rush to write notes and keep up with the teacher but before you’ve even finished 1 sentence she’s erasing the board. Sighing in defeat, you slump back into your chair. Maybe if you just listen to the teacher you’ll be able to grasp most concepts? you’ll just scan through the textbook after practice.

Tim must’ve noticed your defeat, because a moment later he slides over his notebook. God, even his handwriting is perfect. Copying down the rest of his notes.

“thanks.” You mumble, he nods with a subtle smirk on his face.

The next 45 minutes follow the same pattern—you write down as much as, then copy the rest from Tim, and repeat.

It's only until Mrs. Young claps her hands together. The loud sound grabbed everybody’s attention “We finally get to start our first group project of the semester!” Her excitement is met with groans from the class. “because I don’t want you guys to get too comfortable I took the liberty of choosing your partners”. Your stomach drops. Not that you knew anyone here it was still obvious who would make a good partner and who wouldn’t.

As Mrs Young lists off names you don’t recognize “y/n l/n” your head perks up. “And Tim Drake”. Fuck. Your stomach twists. You really didn’t want to go with him. Sure, he’s nice enough to share his notes for sure but he’s still Tim Drake, it’d be much less drama to avoid him.

Tim didn’t even bother hiding his smirk. “The project must be a poster of any negative or positive feedback loop. Be sure to discuss details with your partners. I won’t be giving much class time, so plan accordingly”

The bell rang signaling the end of class, and you were quick to pack up and get out. The sooner you’re gone the better.

“So how do you want to do this?” Tim asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t really care. you pick”

gym’s next, so you should leave as soon as you can. “Let’s work on it tomorrow after your basketball game. We can choose our topic together,” he answered.

Great, now you’re gonna have to spend your evening with the guy. “My game will probably take 2 hours,” you said. That should probably be enough to get him to back off.

“I’ll watch, I like basketball” you raise a brow. “I guess” you shrug.

The rest of the day blurred together— same mind numbing stories in English, same repetitive drills in practice. By the time it’s all over you’re already on the subway heading home. A wave of exhaustion falls over you.

Unlocking the Door to the empty apartment, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and doom scroll for the rest of the night. Still you figure you should eat something and take a quick shower first.

Scanning the fridge and cupboards like expected there isn’t much. With a sigh you grabbed a box of cereal and poured a bowl before heading to the bathroom to shower.

The evening passed uneventfully. You weren’t expecting your mother to be back anytime soon, so it was just the quiet hum of the apartment.

A buzz from your phone snapped you back to reality.

Hey y/n it’s Tim Brandi gave me your number for the project.

You roll your eyes. Why would Brandi do that? It's totally unlike her. Tim must’ve been persistent. Hovering over the message you debated answering or not. After a beat you typed back.

<Y/N>

Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Short and simple, Tim probably won’t send another message. With a sigh you put your phone on silent, and roll over to finally get some sleep. Once you get through this project you’ll never have to talk to him again.

little did you know the project will be the least of your worries.

#batfam x reader #gn reader #platonic batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere #platonic #x reader

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habken · 18 days ago

Note

Habs I want your 36 hour long YouTube analysis on bnha including thoughts on the new info from the fan book SO bad the toga stuff has me biting holes into the walls

Okay, it’s long:

First, stuff I liked:

Deku:

Good to see deku stocks rise, they doubted my nephew but he always comes out on top 🙏🙏

Circling back to 431, I don’t think it was all bad and I don’t hate it like some people do. I like that it shows us how passionate he is as a teacher and that he was able to carve out a path for himself outside of hero work. I think people were quick to judge him and make assumptions about him after declining Katsuki’s sidekick proposal, and it was Rough having to see Deku get bashed for it for months. I’m so happy that the new info shows that he didn’t give up on those heroic dreams, he just had to find the balance between teaching and being a pro.

I’m over the moon that he’s #4 and that Katsuki’s ranking bounced back too to #5 as a reaction to Deku being back on the hero scene, this is what I wanted so much from the ending, the two of them fighting neck-in-neck, competing for forever, teasing each other and being in each other’s lives… it’s perfect :’))

I think it’s so cool that apparently Deku was still placing in the top 100 despite being retired because of the extended requirements on the hero ranking, but I think that info should have come up in 430. The epilogue suggested that hero charts were going to be restructured or done away with entirely, and I think it’s silly that it’s only vaguely touched on in an art book lol. That should’ve been part of the main ending.

Streets are saying Deku did not get a degree before he started his teaching career… I’m electing to ignore that because I really want to imagine him in uni. I think it’s fair that UA wouldn’t have traditional standards for teachers… but let my boy get some certification before putting him in charge of a class c’mon.. But also this could be a bit of a misinterpretation considering there’s no official english translations out yet.

Also I’m so glad that it’s confirmed the suit mimics the ofa quirks !! I was worried that wasn’t gonna be the case and I was gonna end up disappointed but I can rest easy!

Bakugou:

I talked about him already kind of but the thing I’m happy to learn the most about from the art book is that supposedly older pro heroes have a soft spot for him. I think there’s something really endearing about that, and I feel like despite having a “bad attitude” he’s such a sentimental and sweet character and he’s grown so much from the middle school punk from chapter 1. He’s got this blunt but genuine quality to him and I think that’s what older characters would latch onto.

I am such a big fan of his friendship with todorok and love what they said about it in the book under todoroki’s section. Also a big fan of the tidbit that monoma tried to get close to him after the war, the guy saw him die right, and there’s something very touching about him trying to reach out and check up of katsuki and worm his way into his life because of that trauma idk. I want to make something about their friendship maybe.

Eri:

IThe information that jirou helped eri with guitar lessons fills my heart with so much joy :’)) I love that Eri has so many older siblings who all love her and want to teach her stuff and be part of her life and cheer her on

I really like that she’s pursuing music! I know some people wanted her to go down the hero path too, but I think it’s really nice that she was able to carve out a path that makes her happiest. It’s what first brought a smile to her face! When class A performed! And seeing her be able to live that dream is so nice :’))

Deku and mirio being her biggest cheerleaders also makes me so happyy. Those are her older brothers frfr.

I’m really glad the one shot was focused on her, very great thag we get to see her relationship with aizawa and the teachers, and learn about her life now. I was so worried about what the extra pages were gonna be about and it was such a pleasant surprise lol

Things I’m… less of a fan of:

Uraraka:

It’s genuinely criminal that the art book doesn’t touch on her reformed quirk counselling programs at all. To me, this was one of the most interesting tidbits of info we got from class 1-A in 430, and something I really wish we’d been able to learn more about.

It’s very clear that her character’s potential was tossed aside the entire story, and honestly her relationship with deku was too. I’m not really a fan of izuocha, but I am a lover of character relationships and the lack of growth the two had together throughout the series was very disappointing to me. I think the idea of romance between them and horikoshi’s aversion to writing it got in the way of their actual relationship and it stayed stagnant for too long — which is why 431 feels so disappointing in that regard — because they should have gotten closer in the actual story instead of in an add-on epilogue chapter.

All that to say, from what I’ve seen from the artbook, her info section is taken up mostly by things that relate to izuku, all we really learn is her parents don’t use the money she sends them LMAO. It’s just so strange for her to be both disregarded as a character and labelled the “Love Interest” when it comes to talking about her as her own person, but yet not have really any development alongside the character she’s supposedly going to end up with in the actual story.

She’s apparently there to cheer deku on, that’s the role they want her to have. They don’t care about who she is outside of that even though her entire character is a separate person with a life and a story beyond having a crush on a boy. It’s misogyny lol.

Toga and the LOV:

Speaking of misogyny… Toga’s death :( Learning that there were other options for her is upsetting. The artbook has really reopened my feelings about all the endings for the LoV members.

In my mind toga had the most satisfying ending, but that’s really not saying much. I don’t think she should’ve died, I don’t think her “facing responsibility/taking accountability” had to mean the only ending for her was death. She was a kid, she was mentally ill, she wanted love and to be loved and to me, her death being off-screened and used as canon-fodder for uraraka’s feelings and to be pushed towards izuku was so upsetting.

Idk it just feels like a habit for the female characters to be sidelined and for their sacrifices and deaths to be pushed to the side, it’s aggravating.

With the lov in general, it just seems like the overall message is there’s no real path to redemption, that the only way they could find it is to die. For a story that seems to want to highlight the fact that everyone can be saved, and that things aren’t so black and white, and that it’s the fault in society that drove these “villains” to where they are, it really does treat them as if they’re completely and utterly irredeemable and there was never any hope for them. That they are a product of their nature/nurture and cannot escape it any way but through dying. It’s not even tragic, it feels lazy and unsatisfying and feels like it goes against whatever the message of the story was supposed to be.

Idk I’ve defended mha a lot, and I think there’s a lot of positives in it. I think it does have strong messages that no one person can fix issues that are societal in nature, and that real change comes with forming community and being there for those around us. Etc etc. But I’m disappointed that a lot of the themes of mha fell flat and don’t go deeper than surface level.

I’m upset that horikoshi has made these compelling and very human villains, and shown us their stories and that they’re not all evil at the core, and then decided that their arcs all had to end in pain and suffering.

The one who upsets me the most is Tomura. He’s been one of my favourite characters since the beginning, and I think his ending hit me the worst. To me it felt like he was right on the cusp of something and then afo came in and told him his whole life was a lie, that he was groomed to be an angry man with half a quirk that could only destroy, and every choice he’d ever made was directly under afo’s influence. That he never had any free will, he was always meant to go down this path. I thought for sure the final battle with deku and afo would have shigaraki fighting back against the possession, and I was disappointed that his final moments were barely anything at all.

Learning about his original quirk and the original plans for his ending, it’s made me angry about his arc all over again. Thinking about how things could’ve been, and that there were other options for his final moments, I’m frustrated.

I hate that the villain’s are used as emotional canon fodder, to serve as character development for the heroic main characters, when horikoshi made us so invested in their stories as well. You just end up wanting to root for them, not in a “I want them taking over the world” way, but in a way where they find some sort of happiness. And we kind of maybe get that from toga, but to me all their endings just don’t hit the mark. They feel cheap and unsatisfying, and this art book drives a lot of that home for me.

Anyways yeah. I’m gonna stop myself here before I go crazy lol. Hope this made sense

#ask #mha manga spoilers #this is like 1600+ words waow #I didn’t mention dabi but look at whatever beybuniki’s said on that cause I agree

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w1w2 · 3 months ago

Text

Still Yours

Ningning x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7k

Synopsis: Y/N and Ningning once found solace in their shared world, a quiet sanctuary away from the chaos. But as Ningning’s dreams take flight, the space between them begins to widen. Now, in the stillness of their home, Y/N wonders if it is all still worth it.

Notes: It had been rotting in my docs for so long… Since I couldn't sleep last night, I finally finished it. I didn't even try to be happy today lmao. Here you go babes! Enjoy!

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The apartment felt different these days. It was the same space they had moved into together a little over a year ago—modern, tucked away in a quiet part of Seoul, safe from prying eyes. It was supposed to be their escape, their little sanctuary away from the world. But now, it felt more like a waiting room.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, law books spread open on the coffee table, but she wasn’t reading. Her pen rested idly in her hand, poised over the highlighted pages, though she hadn’t written anything in over twenty minutes. Instead, her gaze kept flickering toward the front door, waiting for the sound of keys jingling, of footsteps breaking the quiet stillness of the apartment.

11:42 PM.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She shouldn’t be surprised. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She should be used to this by now.

It wasn’t always like this.

Y/N could still remember the early days, when Ningning was still a trainee, full of dreams and boundless energy, always running from one practice to another, trying to prove herself. She lived in the trainee dorms back then, surrounded by strict rules and constant supervision. Their time together was scarce, stolen in between Ningning’s vocal lessons and dance practices.

But somehow, it had been enough.

They would meet in secret, tucked away in quiet cafés where no one would recognize them, sharing whispered conversations over half-finished drinks. Late at night, when the dorm lights were out, Ningning would send voice notes instead of texts, her sleepy voice slurring slightly as she mumbled, "I wish I could be with you right now."

There were nights when Y/N would wait outside the company building, just for a few minutes with her. Ningning would run out with her hair still damp from sweat, out of breath but grinning like Y/N was the only thing keeping her going.

“Five minutes,” Ningning would say, grabbing Y/N’s hands despite how cold they were. “I only have five minutes before they yell at me.”

And those five minutes had always felt like forever.

Back then, even if they had to keep their relationship hidden, even if their moments together were fleeting, it still felt like they were fighting for something real.

Now, Y/N wasn’t so sure anymore.

The moment Ningning debuted, everything changed. Her schedule became unpredictable, packed with rehearsals, photoshoots, music shows, and fan events. At first, Y/N had been patient. She understood that this was Ningning’s dream, and she supported her unconditionally. She had promised herself that she would never be the kind of person who resented their partner’s success.

But patience could only stretch so far.

A soft ding broke the silence. Y/N grabbed her phone off the table.

Ningning (11:45 PM): Almost home.

That was it. No apology, no heart emoji, no “I miss you”. Just two words.

Y/N’s grip on her phone tightened.

Once upon a time, Ningning would have texted her throughout the day. Little things, like “Just finished rehearsal. I’m dead.” or “This song reminds me of you.” or “I miss you so much I’m gonna die, why do I have a schedule and not you in my arms?”

But now, all she got was “Almost home.”

Y/N stared at the message for a few seconds before setting her phone down. She knew she was being unfair. Ningning was exhausted, she was busy. But no matter how many times she reminded herself of that, the loneliness in her chest never seemed to fade.

The minutes dragged on.

Finally, the sound of the front door unlocking broke the stillness.

Ningning stepped inside, head lowered as she nudged the door shut behind her. She was still in her stage makeup, though it had smudged slightly from the long hours. The hoodie she had thrown over her head couldn’t quite hide the exhaustion on her face. Her bag slid off her shoulder, landing unceremoniously on the floor.

She barely looked up before murmuring, “Hey.”

Y/N closed her book, watching her carefully. “You’re late.”

“I had rehearsals,” Ningning said, her voice tired.

“You always have rehearsals.”

The words slipped out before Y/N could stop them. Her voice was calm, but the sharp edge beneath it was unmistakable.

Ningning sighed, finally meeting Y/N’s gaze. “What do you want me to do about it? Skip work?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Ningning exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Because every time I come home, you have that look on your face like I did something wrong.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want this to be another night spent going in circles, another night of meaningless arguments that left them both exhausted. But it was getting harder and harder to swallow everything down, to pretend like she wasn’t breaking under the weight of always coming second.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” Y/N said finally.

“See what?”

“How much things have changed.”

Ningning frowned. “Y/N—”

“You don’t text me anymore. You barely call. You’re never home,” Y/N continued, her voice rising. “And when you are here, you’re too tired to even look at me. Do you even want to be with me anymore?”

The words came out before she could stop them.

Ningning’s face shifted from frustration to something softer, something like hurt. “How can you even say that?”

“Because it feels like I’m the only one holding onto this.” Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. “And I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing that.”

Silence.

Ningning took a step forward, voice quieter now. “I love you, Y/N. I never stopped loving you.”

“Then show me,” Y/N whispered.

Another long pause. Ningning looked down, hands tightening into fists at her sides. Y/N could see the exhaustion in her body, the weight of too many schedules, too many expectations pressing against her shoulders.

But she was tired too.

Tired of feeling invisible, tired of pretending that love alone was enough, tired of waiting for something to change.

For the first time in a long time, neither of them knew what to say. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, and Y/N had never felt further away from the girl standing right in front of her.

She wished Ningning would reach for her. Say something. Do something to make her believe they could fix this.

But instead, Ningning let out a long, tired sigh. She rubbed a hand over her face, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. “I have an early schedule tomorrow. We should sleep.”

That was it. That was all she said.

Y/N felt something deep inside her crack, but she didn’t argue. She just nodded stiffly, watching as Ningning stood up from the couch, stretching her arms before quietly walking toward their bedroom.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t move. She stayed there, curled up on the couch, staring at the space Ningning had just left. The warmth of her presence still lingered in the room, but it already felt like she was gone.

After a few minutes, Y/N forced herself to get up and follow.

By the time she entered their bedroom, Ningning was already under the covers, her back turned. The soft glow of her phone screen flickered against the darkness, illuminating her face in brief flashes as she scrolled through messages, probably work-related. Probably nothing to do with her.

Y/N hesitated. She wanted to say something. To reach out, shake Ningning’s shoulder, demand that she look at her and promise that they were going to be okay.

But the exhaustion weighing on her body, on her heart, was too much. So instead, she just climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over herself.

A few seconds later, she felt Ningning shift beside her.

Then, slowly, a familiar warmth pressed against her back. Ningning’s arms wrapped around her waist, her chin resting against Y/N’s shoulder.

For a moment, Y/N held her breath.

“I know things have been hard,” Ningning whispered against her skin. “But we’ll be okay, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed, blinking against the sudden sting in her eyes.

Ningning’s fingers traced absentminded patterns against her hip, her voice softer now. “I promise… after the tour, I’ll make it up to you.”

Y/N wanted to believe her. She really, really did. So she said nothing.

She just closed her eyes and let herself sink into the warmth of Ningning’s embrace, pretending for a little while longer that this was enough.

The morning came too quickly.

Y/N woke up to the sound of Ningning’s alarm blaring from across the room, vibrating loudly against the nightstand. The warmth from the night before was gone, Ningning had already slipped out of bed, her side cold and empty.

By the time Y/N dragged herself out from under the covers, Ningning was in the bathroom, door slightly ajar, steam from the shower spilling into the bedroom. The faint scent of her body wash filled the air.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at her tired eyes. She could hear Ningning humming softly, a song she had probably rehearsed a hundred times. It was such a simple sound, one that used to make Y/N smile. But this morning, it felt… distant.

By the time Ningning emerged, fresh-faced and dressed for the day, Y/N was already at her desk, flipping through her case files, pretending to be more focused than she really was.

They didn’t talk.

They didn’t fight, either.

They just moved around each other like strangers, like two people playing house, waiting for the moment when one of them would finally break the silence.

Ningning left for her schedule with a quick, distracted kiss to Y/N’s temple. She didn’t notice how Y/N barely reacted.

And by the time she returned that evening, exhaustion evident in the way she dropped onto the couch without a word, the weight of everything left unsaid pressed even heavier on Y/N’s chest.

The next few days passed the same way, conversations that never went beyond “How was your day?” and “Did you eat?”, lingering glances that neither of them acted on, nights spent lying next to each other but feeling miles apart.

The words Y/N had spoken that night still hung in the air between them, unanswered. And by the time Ningning started packing for the U.S. tour, the weight of everything unspoken had become unbearable.

The fight didn’t start with screaming.

It started with silence.

The kind of silence that stretched between them like an invisible wall, thick and suffocating, made heavier by everything left unsaid.

Ningning was sitting at the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone, the suitcase next to her was already zipped, ready to go. The U.S. leg of the tour was starting in less than forty-eight hours.

Y/N stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had been watching Ningning sitting there for the past ten minutes, waiting, hoping for her to say something, to acknowledge her.

But she didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

Because this had become their routine. Ningning coming home late, exhausted and distracted. Y/N pretending she wasn’t hurt. Avoiding the inevitable conversation, because what was the point? They both knew how it would end.

Except tonight, Y/N couldn’t swallow it down anymore.

“So that’s it, then?” she finally spoke, voice sharper than she intended. “You’re leaving.”

Ningning glanced up briefly before turning her attention back to her phone. “You know I have to.”

“I know, Ningning,” Y/N said, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I always know. That’s the problem.”

Ningning sighed, tossing her phone onto the couch. “Y/N, please. Not tonight.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “Not tonight? When, then? When you come back in a month? When you have another five minutes to spare between schedules?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is that I don’t even know the last time we acted like a couple,” Y/N snapped, taking a step closer. “I don’t even know the last time you kissed me without it feeling like an afterthought.”

Ningning’s expression twisted, her shoulders tensing. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Y/N’s voice cracked. “Because it feels like I’m dating a ghost, Ningning. You come and go, and I’m just supposed to wait around like I don’t exist outside of this apartment?”

Ningning clenched her jaw. “You know why things are like this.”

“Yes, I do,” Y/N whispered. “And I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

The words made Ningning freeze.

For a moment, the air between them was still.

Y/N could feel her own heart pounding in her chest, her fingers trembling slightly at her sides. She had been holding onto this for too long, months, maybe even years. She had ignored the way her heart ached when Ningning pulled away first, the way she hid them like a secret too dangerous to be spoken out loud. She had told herself it was okay. That it was worth it.

But what if it wasn’t?

“What are you saying?” Ningning’s voice was quieter now.

Y/N took a deep breath, then said the words she had been too afraid to say before.

“Maybe we should just call it the end.”

The moment the words left her lips, she saw the shift in Ningning’s expression.

Shock.

Then hurt.

Then something close to panic.

“No,” Ningning said immediately, shaking her head. “No, Y/N. You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know what I mean anymore,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just know I can’t keep doing this. Pretending like I’m okay with being hidden. Pretending like I don’t care that I barely see you. That I can’t even call you mine outside of these walls.”

Ningning took a step forward, reaching out, but Y/N stepped back.

That small movement made something flicker in Ningning’s eyes.

Desperation.

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. “I—”

A loud knock on the front door cut her off.

Ningning squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her whole body tensing. Y/N knew what that meant.

Her manager was here. It was time to go.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry.

Not this time.

Ningning turned back to her, panic creeping into her voice. “I have to leave, but we’re not done talking about this.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Another knock.

Louder this time.

Ningning hesitated for only a second before grabbing her bag and heading toward the door. But just as she reached for the handle, she stopped.

Slowly, she turned back.

Her eyes were glistening, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to stay.

But she didn’t, instead, her voice came out in a shaky whisper.

“We’ll talk about this after I come back. I love you.”

And then she was gone, the door clicked shut and the silence that followed was deafening.

The first few days after Ningning left were eerily quiet.

Y/N had expected it, prepared for it even. She told herself that this was what they needed. A space to think, to breathe, to figure out if this relationship was even worth saving.

Distance was supposed to bring clarity, but all it brought was an aching loneliness that settled deep in her chest.

She threw herself into her studies with an almost desperate intensity. Law school had always been demanding, but now she welcomed the relentless pace, using it as a shield against the thoughts clawing at the back of her mind. She stayed late in the library, let herself get lost in endless case studies, took on extra assignments she didn’t even need.

If she was busy enough, maybe she wouldn’t notice how empty the apartment felt without Ningning’s presence.

But no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, Ningning was everywhere.

Her name was trending on social media almost daily. A new performance, a backstage video, a candid video of her laughing with her members. Fans flooded the comments with admiration, calling her stunning, charismatic, unreal.

Y/N told herself not to look.

But she always did.

She would watch clips of Ningning on stage, radiant under the blinding lights, smiling so effortlessly like the weight of the world wasn’t crushing her. And each time, it felt like a knife twisting deeper into her chest.

Because how was it possible that someone who looked so happy could make her feel so miserable?

The messages started the day after Ningning left.

Ningning (9:14 AM): Landed safely. Ningning (12:07 PM): You forgot to put my charger in my bag. Ningning (1:33 AM): I miss you.

Y/N saw them all.

She would stare at her screen, rereading the words over and over, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

But she didn’t reply.

Because what was she supposed to say? “I miss you too?” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t enough. Missing Ningning didn’t erase the hurt. It didn’t erase the fact that their love had started to feel like a burden Ningning was too busy to carry.

Maybe it was petty, but Y/N didn’t know how to respond without breaking open the wound all over again.

So, she did nothing. She let the messages sit there, unanswered.

By the end of the week, Ningning had stopped texting.

Y/N told herself this was what she wanted.

She told herself that silence was easier than another fight, easier than another empty promise.

But then, in the quiet hours of the night, when she lay alone in their bed, staring at the ceiling, she wondered if Ningning was lying awake, too. If she was thinking about Y/N as much as Y/N was thinking about her.

Somewhere across the world, Ningning was stepping onto a stage, lights blinding, fans screaming her name.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t know if she still had a place in that world.

Ningning had been performing for as long as she could remember. The stage was supposed to be her second home, a place where she could lose herself in the music, in the cheers of fans, in the lights that made everything else disappear.

But this time, it felt different.

Hollow.

She went through the motions effortlessly, smiling at the cameras, hitting every note with practiced perfection, waving at fans as if she wasn’t falling apart inside.

But the moment the lights dimmed and she stepped off stage, reality came crashing back down on her.

Because when she looked at the crowd, she wasn’t searching for excited fans anymore. She was searching for her.

And she wasn’t there.

She kept checking her phone, even when she knew she shouldn’t.

Waiting.

Hoping.

But Y/N never replied.

At first, she told herself that Y/N was just busy with school. That she’d message her when she had time. That this wasn’t a big deal, that the distance was temporary, that the fight would pass like all the others before it.

But as the days stretched on, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered something else.

What if she’s done waiting?

What if this time, Y/N wasn’t just giving her the silent treatment?

What if this time, she was letting go?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Her members noticed something was off.

Ningning wasn’t as talkative during rehearsals. She spaced out during meals, pushing food around her plate instead of eating. She laughed when she was supposed to, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Even on stage, where she was supposed to feel the most alive, something felt missing.

Aeri was the first to say something. “Ning, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

Jimin caught her staring at her phone one too many times and nudged her playfully. “You waiting on a text or something?”

Ningning forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

She didn’t tell them that she wasn’t waiting for a text. She was waiting for a sign that she hadn’t completely ruined the best thing in her life.

But Y/N’s silence stretched on, suffocating.

And no matter how many times Ningning checked her phone, no matter how many ways she tried to convince herself that Y/N just needed time, the unanswered messages stayed the same.

By the time she stepped onto the stage that night, the ache in her chest had settled into something dull and constant, buried beneath layers of rehearsed smiles and adrenaline.

She told herself she could push through it. That performing, like always, would make her forget.

But the moment the lights dimmed and the final song ended, she realized she had been wrong.

It had been a long night.

The kind that clung to her skin like sweat, the kind that made her bones ache from exhaustion but left her mind wide awake, buzzing with leftover adrenaline. The stadium had been packed, the energy electric, her voice ringing through the speakers as thousands of fans sang along. It was the kind of night that should have made her feel alive.

Instead, she felt empty.

As soon as she stepped off stage, the weight of everything came crashing down again.

Ningning barely registered the murmured praises from the staff, the gentle pats on her shoulder as she walked down the long hallway to the dressing room. Her body was on autopilot, smiling, nodding, whispering a quiet thank you, but her mind was elsewhere. Stuck in a place far from the flashing cameras and screaming crowds.

Stuck on her.

The dressing room was quiet when she walked in, the distant hum of voices from outside muffled by the heavy door. The exhaustion settled over her all at once, making her limbs feel heavy as she dropped onto the couch. Her muscles ached, her throat was raw from singing, and all she wanted was to reach for her phone and see something from Y/N.

Just one message.

One missed call.

One sign that Y/N was still there, still waiting for her, still hers.

She unlocked her phone, her fingers swiping instinctively to their chat.

Nothing.

The last message was still from her. “I miss you.” Unread. Unanswered.

Ningning swallowed, her grip on the phone tightening as she stared at the screen. The tiny gray "delivered" text felt like a wall between them, an unspoken barrier that stretched across oceans and time zones.

She exhaled shakily, tilting her head back against the couch, blinking rapidly. She couldn’t do this right now.

But then, her fingers slipped.

The phone tumbled from her hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. The impact wasn’t hard, but it was enough to pop the case open slightly from the force.

Something fluttered out.

Ningning frowned, leaning forward. Her breath caught the moment her eyes landed on it.

A small, worn polaroid.

For a second, she didn’t move.

It lay face-up on the floor, the faded colors staring back at her like a ghost from the past. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hesitated, then slowly reached down, picking it up between trembling fingers.

She had forgotten it was even there.

Tucked inside her phone case, pressed against the device she carried with her everywhere. Close to her, always.

Her breath hitched as she stared at the image.

Y/N was sitting on the floor of Ningning’s old dorm room, grinning at the camera, holding up a peace sign. Ningning was behind her, chin resting on Y/N’s shoulder, her eyes crinkled with laughter. She remembered the exact moment it had been taken, one of those rare nights when they had managed to steal a few precious hours together.

She could still hear Y/N’s voice teasing her. “You always say you’re too busy to take photos, but one day you’re gonna wish you had more of them.”

Back then, Ningning had rolled her eyes, pretending it didn’t matter, but now, looking at this tiny, fraying piece of the past, she realized Y/N had been right.

The polaroid blurred as tears gathered in her eyes, her fingers tightening around it. It had been taken years ago, back when everything had felt easier.

Back when they thought they had all the time in the world.

A lump formed in her throat, and suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

She pressed the polaroid against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as the weight of everything she had been trying to ignore finally crashed over her.

She had been so caught up in her world, her schedules, her career, the relentless pace of being an idol, that she hadn’t even realized she was losing the most important thing in her life.

Her hands curled into fists. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw her phone against the wall.

She wanted to rewind time and tell Y/N before she left, “Don’t give up on me yet. I love you. I love you more than this.”

But she hadn’t.

And now, she wasn’t sure if Y/N was still listening.

Ningning sat frozen, the polaroid still pressed against her chest. Her breathing was uneven, the weight of everything she had been avoiding crushing her all at once.

The dressing room around her felt smaller, suffocating. The noise outside blurred into a distant hum, like she was underwater.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to take a shaky breath, but it didn’t help.

The realization hit her like a slow, sinking weight.

A movement to her left broke her from her thoughts.

Her members had been watching her, exchanging hesitant glances. Ningning knew they had noticed something was wrong, she had felt their concerned stares, heard their quiet murmurs when they thought she wasn’t listening.

But she had ignored it.

Until now.

Jimin finally spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Ning… are you okay?”

Ningning let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It trembled on the way out.

“No.”

The word barely made it past her lips, but admitting it made her feel like something inside her had finally cracked open.

Jimin frowned and sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. She didn’t say anything at first, just let the silence settle. Then, after a moment, she sighed.

“You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Ningning swallowed hard, her fingers ghosting over the edges of the polaroid, tracing its familiar shape like she was afraid it might disappear. She stared at it like it held all the answers, like if she looked at it long enough, she could go back to the moment it was taken.

“I think I messed everything up,” she whispered.

Jimin was quiet for a moment before she asked, gently, “With Y/N?”

Ningning didn’t have the strength to lie. She just nodded.

Aeri, who had been sitting across from them, shifted uncomfortably. “You guys… did you break up?”

The word made Ningning flinch.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her voice was hoarse, like saying it out loud made it real. “I said we’d talk when I got back. But…” Her throat tightened. “What if she doesn’t want to talk anymore?”

Jimin nudged her lightly. “You know, it’s not too late to fix things.”

Ningning let out a hollow laugh. “She won’t even text me back.”

Aeri leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “That doesn’t mean she stopped caring.”

Jimin nodded in agreement. “Sometimes, people need space to figure out what they really want.”

Ningning blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. She hated this, hated feeling this raw, this vulnerable. On stage, she was confident, untouchable. But here, sitting in a dimly lit dressing room with a polaroid clutched between her fingers, she just felt small.

“What if she decides she doesn’t want me anymore?” she whispered.

Jimin sighed, resting a comforting hand on her knee. “Then that’s something you’ll have to face.”

Ningning swallowed, throat tight.

Jimin squeezed her knee lightly. “But if you love her, really love her, don’t you think she deserves to know that?”

Ningning stared down at the polaroid in her hands, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

She already knew the answer, she just didn’t know if she had the courage to face it yet.

But one thing was clear.

She couldn’t keep pretending like she was okay without Y/N, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose her without a fight.

For the rest of the night, that thought refused to leave her.

Even as she went through the motions of winding down, changing into comfortable clothes, removing her stage makeup, slipping beneath the hotel sheets, her mind never quieted. Sleep didn’t come easily. She tossed and turned, her body exhausted but her thoughts relentless. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was Y/N. The way she used to smile at her. The way her voice softened whenever she said her name. The way she had looked at her that night before she left, something fragile and breaking just beneath the surface.

And Ningning had just walked away.

The weight of it settled deep in her chest.

Morning came too soon, the blaring of her alarm dragging her out of a restless sleep. Rehearsals, interviews, more travel, it all blurred together, an endless cycle she had memorized so well.

But for the first time in years, she felt disconnected from it all.

Like she was watching herself from the outside, going through the steps of a life that suddenly felt too far away.

Because the only thing she wanted, the only thing she needed, wasn’t here.

Ningning had spent the past few days pretending.

Pretending she was fine. Pretending the silence didn’t hurt. Pretending she wasn’t breaking apart in a way that no amount of rehearsals, flashing lights, or deafening cheers could fix.

But the thing about pretending was that it only worked if you convinced yourself, too.

And Ningning wasn’t convinced.

She could feel it, this ache, this unbearable weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe with each passing day. It settled in the quiet moments, when the stage lights dimmed, when the adrenaline faded, when the only sound left was the ringing in her ears and the distant hum of a city that wasn’t home.

Home.

The word itself made something in her stomach twist painfully, a longing so deep it almost made her sick. Because home wasn’t this hotel room, no matter how luxurious the suite was. It wasn’t the sprawling skyline outside her window, or the endless cities she traveled to, or the stages she poured her soul into night after night.

Home was her.

It was Y/N’s voice in the morning, still thick with sleep, mumbling complaints about how Ningning stole the blankets. It was the way she always left a cup of tea on the counter for Ningning, even when she knew she’d be too tired to drink it. It was the feeling of fingers threading through her hair absentmindedly while she studied lyrics on the couch, the way Y/N would hum songs under her breath without realizing it.

Home was an apartment in Seoul that was probably too quiet now.

Home was a person she wasn’t sure still wanted to be hers.

She exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to will away the burning sensation creeping in.

She should have texted again. Should have called. Should have done something. But fear kept her paralyzed, fear that Y/N wouldn’t pick up, that she would hear the indifference in her voice, or worse, nothing at all.

And yet, sitting here, thousands of miles away, knowing Y/N was slipping further and further out of reach, that fear paled in comparison to the thought of doing nothing.

The realization hit her like ice water down her spine.

She couldn’t keep going like this.

She couldn’t keep waiting, couldn’t keep convincing herself that silence was temporary, that if she just gave it more time, things would magically fall back into place.

Because they wouldn’t. Not unless she did something.

The decision was made before she even fully processed it.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, fingers trembling as she pulled up the one contact she needed right now.

Her manager answered on the second ring, voice groggy from sleep. “Ning? It’s late. What’s wrong?”

Ningning’s breath came out uneven, but her voice, for the first time in weeks, was steady. “I need to go back to Seoul.”

There was a long pause. “What?”

“Just for a few days,” she continued quickly, gripping the phone tighter. “We have a break before the next show. I’ll be back in time.”

Another silence. Then, a sigh.

“Ningning, that’s not how this works,” her manager said, tone laced with exhaustion. “We have security, logistics—”

“I don’t care.” The words came out sharper than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. “I need to go.”

She could hear the hesitation, the way her manager was already trying to think of ways to talk her out of this.

Ningning closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to be talked out of it. Not this time.

“Is this about Y/N?”

Her throat tightened. She didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

She could hear the shift in her manager’s breathing, could practically feel the reluctance on the other end of the line. There were rules, there were expectations, there was an entire machine built around the idea that her personal life came second, that emotions had to be buried beneath professionalism and image.

But she didn’t care about any of that.

Not when it came to Y/N.

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

Relief crashed over her so quickly that it almost made her dizzy. She whispered a quiet thank you, her grip on the phone loosening slightly as she exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

She set the phone down beside her, hands still shaking, staring blankly at the window. The city lights stretched endlessly before her, glowing against the deep blue of the night sky.

She had spent years chasing dreams, running toward something bigger, something extraordinary.

But in doing so, she had let go of the one thing that had ever truly made her feel whole.

Not anymore.

A little over twenty-four hours later, the knock at the door startled Y/N.

She blinked, her fingers frozen above the pages of her textbook, the soft hum of the desk lamp the only sound filling the apartment. She had been rereading the same paragraph for the past hour, unable to focus, her mind drifting in circles around memories she had sworn she wouldn’t revisit.

She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she pushed back her chair, moving toward the door with hesitant steps. Something about the knock, it wasn’t loud, wasn’t impatient. It was careful. Unsteady. Like the person on the other side wasn’t even sure they should be knocking at all.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, pausing for a split second.

And then, finally, she pulled it open.

The breath was stolen from her lungs.

Ningning stood there, looking like she had been through hell.

Her hoodie was wrinkled, slightly oversized, drowning her small frame. Her carry-on bag hung off her shoulder as if she had barely registered it was there. Her dark hair was messy, strands sticking out in uneven directions like she had been running her hands through it the entire flight.

But it was her eyes that broke Y/N.

Red-rimmed. Tired. Glassy with unshed tears.

She looked fragile in a way Y/N had never seen before, like a single word could shatter her completely.

For a moment, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke.

They just stared, the weight of days of silence pressing down on them, stretching between them like an invisible barrier neither of them knew how to cross.

Then, finally, Ningning let out a shaky breath. Her lips parted, her voice breaking as she whispered,

“I can’t stand the thought that you said we should end it.”

Y/N’s fingers curled into the doorframe, nails pressing into the wood.

Ningning swallowed hard, shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. “I—I thought I could give you space. I thought maybe if I waited, if I let things settle, we could talk when I got back. That maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and she let out a small, broken laugh, one that sounded nothing like her usual bright, carefree self.

“But it didn’t stop hurting.” She lifted a trembling hand, pressing it against her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. “It got worse. Every day. Every night. I kept reaching for my phone, waiting for something, anything. But you never texted. And I realized…”

Her breath hitched, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“I realized I was losing you.”

Y/N felt like she had forgotten how to breathe.

Ningning took a small step forward, hesitating, her voice nothing more than a whisper now. “You’re my one and only, Y/N. You always have been.”

Another tear.

“I can’t live with the thought of losing you,” she whispered, her hands shaking as she clenched them at her sides. “I wouldn’t survive if you left me.”

Her entire body trembled with the weight of the confession, like she had been holding it in for so long that it physically hurt to say it out loud.

Y/N’s throat tightened, emotion clawing its way up, threatening to spill over.

She wanted to be angry. Wanted to remind Ningning of the nights she had spent alone, the quiet heartbreak of watching someone she loved slip further and further away.

But standing here, watching her fall apart, all Y/N could see was the girl she had loved for years. The girl who had once promised her forever in hushed whispers beneath the stars. The girl who had just crossed oceans to stand on this doorstep, begging her without words to let her back in.

And suddenly, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed. It didn’t matter how many nights she had spent convincing herself that maybe she and Ningning weren’t meant to last.

Because none of that changed the fact that she loved her.

She had always loved her.

Before she could think, before she could even register what she was doing, she moved.

In one swift motion, she surged forward, arms wrapping around Ningning, pulling her in with a force that nearly knocked them both off balance.

Ningning let out a soft, broken sound, as if she hadn’t expected to be pulled in. As if she had been bracing herself for something far worse, like Y/N turning away, packing her things, deciding that this place, their home, was no longer theirs.

But instead, she was being held.

And as soon as she realized that, she collapsed.

Her fingers clutched at the back of Y/N’s shirt, her entire body shaking as the sobs finally broke free, loud and raw and desperate.

Y/N held her tighter.

One hand tangled in her hair, the other pressing against her back, grounding her, letting her know I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there, tangled together in the doorway, the cold air from outside creeping in around them.

Neither of them cared.

Because after everything, after weeks of silence, after nights spent apart, after all the pain and distance and mistakes, Ningning was here.

She had come back.

And Y/N was never letting her go again.

But they couldn’t stay in the doorway forever.

Ningning’s body was still trembling in Y/N’s arms, her breath uneven, ragged, as if she was barely holding herself together. Her hands clutched desperately at the fabric of Y/N’s shirt, her fingers curling tighter every time Y/N shifted, as if she was afraid that one wrong move would make her disappear.

“Y/N…” Ningning’s voice was small, fragile. “I was so scared.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to see her face, cupping her cheeks with gentle hands. Ningning’s skin was warm beneath her fingertips, flushed from crying, and her bottom lip trembled as she tried to hold back another sob.

Y/N’s heart ached.

Scared. Ningning had been scared.

And Y/N had been, too.

They had spent so long apart, drowning in their own pain, in their own stubbornness, in the belief that maybe distance would somehow make things hurt less. But standing here now, feeling Ningning's pulse racing beneath her fingertips, Y/N realized how wrong she had been.

Letting go would have hurt far worse.

“I love you, Yizhuo.” The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, slipping past her lips before she could stop them. “I love you so much it hurts.”

A choked sob left Ningning’s throat. She closed her eyes, more tears spilling over, and when she opened them again, there was something almost disbelieving in her gaze, like she had been bracing for a different answer entirely.

“Do you mean that?” Ningning whispered.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, resting her forehead against Ningning’s. “Of course I do.” She brushed a stray tear from Ningning’s cheek, voice softer now. “I’ve never stopped.”

Ningning let out a breath, part sob, part laughter, before burying herself against Y/N’s neck again, arms tightening around her waist. “Say it again.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to Ningning’s head.

“I love you.”

Ningning let out a small, breathy laugh, but it was different this time, softer, lighter, relieved.

The weight of the past few weeks, of all the fear, the silence, the uncertainty, began to crumble around them.

Y/N was about to say something else when Ningning suddenly pulled back, her brows furrowing slightly. “Wait.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Ningning pouted, a teasing glint flickering behind the lingering tears in her eyes. “You kissed my forehead and my temple, but—” She tapped her lips. “You missed the most important one.”

Y/N let out a soft, incredulous laugh. Even now, she’s still like this.

But she indulged her.

She reached up, cupping Ningning’s cheeks, and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was both deep and gentle, like an apology, a promise, and a homecoming all at once.

Ningning melted into it instantly, fingers curling into Y/N’s hoodie, holding her like she never wanted to let go. The warmth of her, the familiar softness, the way their lips fit together so perfectly, it was almost enough to erase the pain of the past few weeks.

Almost.

When they finally pulled apart, Ningning rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her breath shaky but steadying.

“I almost lost you,” she murmured, voice small but so full of emotion. “And I don’t ever want to feel that again.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the rawness in her voice hitting her straight in the chest.

Then, after a beat, Ningning let out a deep sigh and muttered, “I should make you sign a contract or something, just so you legally can’t break up with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m practical,” Ningning corrected. “You study law, so I figured you’d appreciate it.”

Y/N gave her a look, and Ningning laughed, nudging their noses together before growing more serious.

“But really,” she whispered, reaching for Y/N’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “Whatever happens next, we’ll figure it out together. I promise you, Y/N. I’ll be here. No more making you feel like you’re alone, no more making you wait, no more leaving you second-guessing where you stand in my life.”

Her voice softened even further, full of sincerity, full of love.

“You’re my love, my life, my one and only,” Ningning continued, squeezing Y/N’s hands. “Even when I’m busy, even when things are crazy, I’ll always make time for you. No more excuses. No more almosts. You come first. Always.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, warmth spreading through her entire body at the words she had been longing to hear for so long.

She knew promises weren’t magic, they wouldn’t erase everything that had happened. But the way Ningning looked at her now, the way her voice trembled with conviction, the way she held her like she never wanted to let go, it was enough to make Y/N believe.

She smiled, pressing another kiss to Ningning’s lips, slower this time, softer, filled with nothing but love.

“I believe you,” she whispered against her lips.

Ningning let out a soft, content sigh, pulling her in for another hug.

Y/N pressed another kiss against Ningning’s temple before tugging her inside their bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

The world outside didn’t matter right now.

The only thing that mattered was them.

And for the first time in weeks, Y/N let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #ningning x reader #ningning x fem reader

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