#there are so many of these scenes I want to SEE

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

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WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

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Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. ��Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[clockwork-whoreange]

This is why anyone and everyone should carry Narcan!

I'll say it again:

ANYONE AND EVERYONE SHOULD CARRY NARCAN

yes, that includes you.

I know I hang out with punks so my social scene is probably has way more of a prevalence than most and this may be feeding a fed horse to those of us who see this type of messaging constantly

BUT

even if you are not in a scene where this happens, even if you think all your friends are clean and your area does not have drugs in it- you are wrong and you should carry Narcan. Situations like this are becoming wayyy too common no matter your demographic, area, or social circle. I recently moved to a more affluent area and see it MORE often than before!!!!!

The nasal spray is so incredibly easy to use and even if you carry, you don't even have to administer it if you don't want!! Someone else can do it!!! I've always had others administer it for me and I just walked them through how to do it or I gave it away for others to use!! It's SO easy and COMPLETELY SAFE!!!

Even if you misjudge the situatiuon and they are not OD'ing IT WILL NOT HURT THEM!!!

Sure overdoses are scary, but what's scarier is the silence that follows in a crowd when someone is begging for Narcan and no one can help.

Something as easy as dropping them (always carry at least two doses) in your bag/backpack is something so so stupidly simple that you can do to help keep your friends and community safe. Narcan is also free to obtain in many areas through community outreach (I have never paid and have been carrying Narcan for over six years) or if it is not free many pharmacies carry it with a small fee and no script needed.

Carrying Narcan costs you absolutely NOTHING and could save someone's life.

something scary happened yesterday, when I was walking home. on the other side of the street, I saw two women standing around a slumped figure, so I jay-walked over to see if I could help.

it turned out to be a lady who had overdosed. one woman already had a paramedic on the phone, and he wanted us to turn the woman over (she'd fallen in an odd, crumpled way that left her facedown on the sidewalk), but the THIRD WOMAN kept going "Noononono stop, don't do it like that, STOP, maybe we shouldn't touch her!" every time I attempted to follow the paramedics instructions to get her into a position where she could breath better. and then, when I decided to ignore the protesting lady and just do it on my own, the unconscious woman WOKE UP shouting! I don't know why that scared us all so much, but we were like 😐 😐 😐

at that point, the sirens could already be heard, so I switched my task to standing on the street waving and pointing so that they could see us better (bc the woman on the phone hadn't given them our intersection).

one thing that made me so sad was that, when the paramedics arrived, the woman on the ground started apologizing to them. as in, "sorry for making you all be here". we all just wanted to help her, nobody had any mixed feelings about it!

I hope she's doing better today. once it was clear that they didn't need me for a statement, I just awkwardly excused myself and continued home.

[obxanon]

Addressing the OBX drama and the speculations:

Was JJ’s Death planned?

No, Rudy asked to leave the show. It wasn’t something the writers planned. He didn’t want to renew, the writers were rightfully upset and then decided to kill JJ off.

Did the writers/producers create an uncomfortable set?

No, they didn’t. This post is not true. The brothers were never inappropriate.

Was Madison a bully on set?

I’ve seen a post going around of someone saying Madison was a bully, controlling the set, and bluntly treating Rudy and crew members like crap. That is NOT true. 

Was Rudy’s decision sudden?

Yes and No. No as in he let the Pates know ahead of time he didn’t want to continue (some time during the strike, so they had time to change what was already written). Yes, as in they were shocked by it.

Was there on set drama between Rudy and the Pates?

Yes, there was many disagreements/personal problems during s4. Yes, Elaine was involved and so was Lilah Pate. They are civil now.

Why did every ship but Jiara get a still?

The jiara still does exist but idk why it was not released. My source doesn’t know either and I don’t want to spread something not true. Rudy and Madison took pictures just like everybody else did.

Why did the cast chemistry seem off in part 2?

They shot episodes 1-5 first, THEN 10, then 6-9. The cast didn’t know rudy asked to leave until they received the script for episode 10. You can tell there was a drastic change between JJ and Kiara in part 2 because after the cast found out, Madison was upset with Rudy and his decision, so she didn’t put in as much effort into the scenes with him. She was upset because she knew that would mean the near end of obx and her character… in a way.

Was there alternate endings?

Yes, but that was only because they wanted to see if rudy would change his mind. There was even scenes where a funeral was shot (obviously they didn’t air it so I’m assuming they’re saving it for s5). From March-June of 2024, they spent the entire time doing reshoots of some scenes. That is why some things don’t make sense.

Did Rudy and Madison talk on set?

Yes, but not closely or anything. They’re not friends, they just did the scenes they had to do and that was it. All those people saying they’re hiding their friendship from the cameras or whatever… that is not true sorry. The pates can’t force them to act like best friends as long as they were doing their scenes.

Why did Jiara have “less” than everybody else?

It’s true that Jiara scenes were toned down. Part of it was Rudy asking for it. Madison didn’t care as much. Another part was just Rudy and Madison not doing more than what the script asked.

Was Elaine uncomfortable with Jiara scenes?

Yes, and she has been since s2. It got worse during s3 and obviously s4. That was part of the conflict.

What is the Rudy and Madison Drama?

Obviously what happened between them is private. It wasn’t the fans. The fans were more so the catalyst to something that had been brewing. 

It is true that the girlfriends are involved and that they weren’t happy. Madison hurt Rudy, but not by being a bully. It was emotionally. The feeling was then returned on his end and it just got worse from there. It didn’t help when the girlfriends and fans were involved. It is true that it’s not a coincidence this happened when they both got involved with relationships. Most of you have speculated correctly, that is all I will say. I think you know by now what I’m trying to say.

Also when I say fans, I don’t mean the “shipping.” They never cared about that. What I do mean is that all this drama happened when Jiara fans were at their peak. Them wanting to see those characters together put Rudy and Madison in a problematic situation because they knew they couldn’t avoid each other on screen. Instead they just did so off screen.

Should the Writers/ Directors/ Producers stepped in?

Yes, but what I need you guys to understand is that these writers were basically father figures to those actors. They watched them grow their careers, supported them, made them who they are now. It’s hard when you spent so much time with each other and became a genuine family. Even their conflict with Elaine was hard because Jonas knew her family, his wife treated her like a daughter, and lilah treated her like a sister. They had every right to be bitter because from their POV, it’s basically like “hey I trusted you to bring my project to life and now I’m being forced to go in a direction I never wanted to go in.”

What’s going on behind the scenes right now?

A mess. They knew it would be bad but infact it is worse and they know that.

Am I reliable?

Honestly I don’t care if you believe me or not. You didn’t before and I got attacked (literal death threats in my inbox). I’m just a messenger. I’ve given you info before and clearly I didn’t lie about it. It’s up to you to decide.

[inkonparchment]

Class of '95

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

The tie rests in his pocket, feeling his throat constrict enough by the memories from a lifetime ago as Leon stands in his old high-school gymnasium. His breathing exercises carry him through the evening until his breath knocks out of him when he sees you again.

warnings/tags: older Leon. allusions to alcoholism. fluff. high school sweethearts.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i dont know if anyone has seen '10 Years' but this heavily inspired from that especially the song 'Never Had'. that and 'From Eden by Hozier'. also i know thats infinite darkness Leon in the banner but i had more death island Leon in mind. anyways, happy reading! this may be lame but its all i have to offer

Leon is glad he decided to forgo the tie, a last-minute decision he made sitting in the shadows of his car, staring blankly at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. The silence had been too loud without the car in ignition, occupied by a sudden itch to grip the steering wheel and drive off, daunted too much by the expanse of his old high-school. He feels like a fraud returning, no longer finding any specks of the person who used to wander down the halls, sit in the classes and occupy the benches in the cafeteria, his carefree demeanour carrying him through the days. 

He could hear the muted drawl of music bleeding from the doors, the balloons and décor scattered across the entrance with a banner reading ‘Welcome Back Class of ‘95’ in greeting. God, that made him feel old, the constant ache in his back a constant reminder of the toll the years had taken on him. 

The walk in isn’t so terrible, wiping the sweat from his hand as he comes across the registration desk, a kindly looking face asking for his name. He nearly laughs at the ‘hello my name is’ sticker, the marker squeaking as he scribbles on his name and pastes it on his jacket right above his heart. 

Leon feels his fingers twitch when someone shouts his name in disbelief, turning around to blink in the face of two men who were previously occupied with their own conversation. He recognizes them in an instant, his teammates from the football team. Youthful faces drowned by wrinkles, grey sprinklings in their hair and torsos full of muscle now replaced with a softening belly; but their smiles are still the same. He walks over to them, gripping their hands firmly in handshakes, disbelief on their faces when they register that it is Leon. 

Where have you been, man? We thought you were dead! Wow, it’s been so long. 

It’s all the same set of questions and remarks he gets when he tours the gymnasium floor. Yes, he can’t believe it’s been so long. No, he’s just been busy with work so no time for a missus or kids. Ah, what about work? He doesn’t want to bore anyone with the boring mumbo jumbo. Yeah, he’s disappointed the police thing didn’t work out but what can you do? 

His words soon start to feel rehearsed, like an actor on scene waiting for his cue, a smile plastered on his face to dazzle the audience. Leon does a fine job of it, relaxing when he realizes that it’s easy with these people who are more eager to talk about their wives, husbands and kids. He feels envy grow within him as his eyes get stuck on their greying features, the softness of their added age and the glittering bands of their rings. 

It feels disorienting almost seeing his classmates living the life he had pictured for himself long ago, a life he didn’t realize he wanted so much now. Maybe there was something about coming stunningly close to death as of late, not that it wasn’t usual for him. Perhaps the one too many knocks against his head had finally straightened out his disarrayed thoughts into linearity.  

The praises that are aimed his way are quickly dismissed by Leon, shrugging all the ‘you look really fit’s and ‘your hair is in great condition, between the kids and job I don’t have the time to dye it’ like bullets clattering to the ground, puncturing him in the aftermath. He has nothing to show for his life save for the scar marks and the unhealed bullet wounds littering his body. Their voices would not carry a tone of wistfulness if they truly knew his reality. 

Leon needs a breather. And like a dog to a bone, he retreats to the bar in the corner. 

It’s mostly empty, smiling politely at the couple that walks away with their beverages. He leans against the bar, grateful for the coolness underneath his palm as he orders his drink. Whiskey on the rocks with a twist. 

Leon struggled with the concept of autonomy for the majority of his 20s and 30s, anger rippling through his system with his teeth grit whenever he would be dispatched at a moment's notice. Every reverberation of his trusty Matilda was doused in casual rage of the irony of his helplessness in deciding his fate as he ensured the normalcy of those back home. Mission success after success that Leon paid for with his freedom, his aching body and greying years, mourning the naive version of himself that saw the world with a gleaming lense. 

He accepted his fate soon enough, made peace with the life he knew he was too much of a coward to leave, courtesy of his survivor's guilt or hero complex, he doesn't know. He really doesn't want to find out. Perhaps it’s the shift in his reality, a peek into a life outside where he isn’t vital to the national or global security. It tugs at the strings of his heart when he realises there’s serenity here. This thought does little to alleviate the deep ache within his chest as he watches his old classmates. 

This is difficult for the reasons Leon never prepared himself for, bitterness flooding him as he mulls over the possibility of the life he could have had. Would he be like everyone else here? Would smiling come easy, a wedding ring on his finger and pictures of his kids ready on his phone, proudly brandishing it out on a moment’s notice? What does he have to show for himself apart from the scars and wounds that litter his body? 

The bartender slides Leon’s drink in front of him, parting with a polite smile. He stares at the amber liquid, ice floating on its surface and the itch in the back of his head that he had tried hard to bury returned. Leon grabs the glass, swirling it for good measure and brings it up to his lips. The whiskey barely grazes his lips when a familiar sounding laugh freezes him in place. His pulse flutters, a statue in poise, back turned to the crowd when the sweet noise filters through again to his ear. 

And suddenly Leon feels himself thrown back to the year 1995 on his own personal time machine, bubbling up memories that he had long forgotten, evoking emotions he thought he didn’t know how to feel anymore. The laugh is light and airy, so gentle and delicate, encompassing his entire being, intoxicating him once again like it did when he heard it for the first time during chemistry class. 

He remembers the softness of your skin when you two had accidentally bumped hands reaching for the popcorn, blushing bright in the darkened theatre before he gathered the courage to hold your hand firmly, never letting go again. 

Leon swears he can taste the butter on your lips when you had bravely kissed him on the doorstep of your home, a grin permanently latching onto his face. His ears ring with the sound of your cheers from the stands, louder than anyone, wildly waving your homemade posters for his games, always present come rain or hail.   

Leon is almost afraid to turn, not wanting to disturb the way his mind has painted you in beautiful strokes, conjuring up a picture so vivid that he feels he can touch if he reaches out. But curiosity gets the better of him, lowering the untouched drink down with a thunk and slowly turning around. Leon forgets how to breathe for a moment. Is it in, in? Out in? No, it’s in and out. He tries to catch up to missed breaths, eyes hung onto you. 

You look just as beautiful as the day he last remembers seeing you. It overwhelms him. Time clearly passed you by but not in the same way it had him; brutish, barbaric and aggressively tossing him on the hard concrete. No, time had been gentle with you, tenderly caressing you in its palm, nuzzling you softly as it swept you with it. 

Your smile is still the same Leon fell in love with, proud at having being the receiving end of it quite often, adoring the way you still throw your head back a little when you laugh. There is an air of elegance about you, evidence of the years that you had culminated, experiences under your belt that had transformed you into the person that was standing just a little distance away from him.    

Leon watches you intently as your eyes flicker over to where he’s standing, words fumbling from your lips as you jerk your head back up and do a double take. Your eyes blink furiously, widening in surprise as though you never expected to see him in a million years. You stumble off an excuse to the people you were talking to, eyes not daring to stray away from him. 

His drink is long forgotten, hands both nestled in his pockets, heart thrumming in his chest as he waits for you to make your way to him. There’s a certain peculiarity in how you do; a strange mix of shyness and disbelief. Your steps are light and airy, features softening as Leon grows more vivid in your line of sight. There’s something familiar in the way you walk to him, something akin to how he watched you descend the stairs of your house as he had waited at the bottom, staring at you in awe with a corsage gripped tight in his hands. Even in the picture your mom had snapped, Leon was still looking at you.  

Warmth floods him when you come to a stop in front of him, glee on both his and Leon’s face, hidden beneath timidness. He takes the first leap.  

“Hey,” Leon smiles. 

You laugh and it is oh so sweet, stronger than a shot of espresso. “Hi.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

What do you say anyways to the most important person in your youth who you thought would be a constant? The breakup had been difficult but inevitable with the two very different paths you and Leon had picked out for yourselves. It was terribly heart aching with fingers gripping each other’s tightly, silent tears running down your face as you tried to inscribe every forehead kiss from Leon to memory with the sun setting in the far-off distance. Come morning he would be long gone, both of you deciding that it would be unbearable to start a new day without the sun shining on them both.  

What do you say after all these years have passed shaping you into different versions of the same person you once knew so long ago?  

“It’s really good to see you Leon.” Well you could say that for starters. 

A small puff of air leaves Leon’s throat, glancing down at the floor momentarily before looking back into your eager eyes. His heart clenches as he notices they still glow. “It’s good to see you too.” An understatement truly, it’s magical to see you again. He thought he never would again, his mind drifting to you in his moments of darkness, clinging on to the memories as they would rejuvenate him. His sentiment is a lot more loaded than yours, he realises, his guardian angel now materialised in front of his eyes.  

You flit about, mess with your hair, pull it behind your ears, trying to look at him whole with little glances. “I uh...I thought you didn’t attend these things.”  

“I didn’t know there were these things to attend,” He shrugged. Its true, it’s quite hard to reach him when none of his old contact numbers or emails work. Leon’s a hard man to reach. It was a surprise to him when Hunnigan had all but slammed the plane ticket and the print out of his old high-school reunion on his desk. He didn’t even bother asking how she got the information, feeling scrutinised under her hard gaze and her You need a break too, Leon. He’ll buy her favourite bottle of wine first thing back.  

“Well you know it is hard to reach you.” You tilt your head to the side, teasing glinting in your eyes. “No phone number, no address, no email either. Its almost like you vanished off the face of the earth.” 

Leon feels the tips of his ears grow hot, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed. You continue on with a casual shrug of your shoulders, “Every text or email I sent you bounced back so I just thought you didn’t want to catch up.”  

That turns him into a statue. What? “You tried to contact me?”  

A streak of blush colours your cheeks. “I mean not that frequently. Just like a couple of years back I guess? I don’t know I just did it on a whim. The text didn’t go through and neither did the email so...you know I thought you didn’t want to be contacted.” 

He didn’t know what to do with the information that you thought of him while he thought of you. He never imagined that you would actually try to reach out to him, why would you? Leon assumed you’d be well settled in your life now; husband, kids, the white picket fence. Isn’t that what the two of you would fantasise about, sharing whispered giggles huddled under the sheets?  

But there’s curiosity gnawing at his bones. He’s noticed the empty ring finger on your left hand about how you’ve spent ten minutes chatting with him here and no man has slipped his hand against your waist. You’re here, talking to him, in no rush to meet anyone else. Leon feels his fingers twitch, he would never let you out of his sight. 

He blinks, an easy smile settling on his lips, gazing at you softly at your confession. “I thought about you a lot too.” He wants to thread his fingers through your hair, tucking away the strands. “I’m sorry I went so far away.”  

You shudder, pursing your lips and looking away. You see to be shrugging your shoulders again. Cute. “It’s fine. Life gets in the way sometimes. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

The music doesn’t bother Leon anymore. He likes it, foot tapping with the beat, letting the soft tune wash over him. The silence is nice albeit heavy, he imagines there’s a barrage of questions on the tip of your tongue. A gentle giggle pulls his attention to you, “What?” 

“Nothing. Its just,” You shake your head, “I don’t know if I should be concerned or not over how little the gymnasium has changed since we went here.”  

“Oh,” His eyes sweep the entire place, amused at your remark. “You’re right. I don’t imagine they’ve been very enthusiastic about interior decoration .”  

“They really have not,” You marvel. You seem to get lost in your thoughts, pulling your back straighter. “You think they changed the bleachers outside in the field?”  

Leon locks eyes with you, unrelenting stare as he grapples with the meaning behind your words. He spent a lot of time with you on them; shyly running to you after practice, talking with you there for hours, glancing at you cheering him on during games, the summer day you two had spent there laughing and kissing before Leon had scratched the two of yours initial on its surface, sweetly outlining it with a heart. It’s not cheesy sweetheart if you’re blushing into my neck this hard.  

Leon quirks his eyebrow, matching your smile. “Let’s find out.”  

The night is cool with clear skies and a soft breeze blowing through. Leon feels ridiculous, not in the stupid sense but in the makes-him-feel-young sense. Your hand is wrapped in his instinctively, your soft palm resting against his with a practiced ease as he tugs you along with him towards the football field. The music thrums away into the background until there’s only the sound of your shared footsteps and your soft laughs echoing in the air. He can’t help but glance at you time and again, marvelling at the soft wrinkles dusting the corner of your eyes.  

He doesn’t like it when he has to let your hand go, standing between the stands as the two of you  unspokenly begin the search for the same heart shaped mark left years ago in the dim light. 

“So uh,” You say standing a little above from him in the bleachers, attention focused on the seats as you try to sound casual, “Did you come alone?”  

“Yeah,” He’s quick to reply. “My pet goldfish gets really motion sick on planes.” He pretends to search for a while. “You?”  

You hum in reply. “I don’t think ex-husbands are too big on attending their ex-wife’s high-school reunion.”  

Leon turns towards you to see you staring at him already, fiddling with your ring-less finger. “Dead?” 

“Divorced.” 

“When?” 

“Few years ago.”  

“Why?” 

“He got his secretary pregnant.”  

Leon blinks, scoffing and surprised at the spark of anger that ignites in him. “What an absolute piece of shit.”  

You laugh. “Yeah.”  

The two of you go back to searching, a lightness on your shoulders now. He relaxes too, the stiffness disappearing from his back. “I thought a lot about you. Thought you’d have your white picket fence house by now. It’s...why I never reached out to you.”  

You bite your lip, smiling at the memory. “It’s okay Leon, really. The white picket fence seems like a lifetime ago now. Seems a bit silly honestly.”  

“It’s not what you want?”  

“I don’t know. A lot’s changed since we last spoke. I’ve learnt it’s better to let things happen as they are.”  

“Not taking chances anymore?”  

You look up at him, a sweet smile as you share a knowing look. “No, I’m taking them as they present themselves.”  

Leon’s stomach does that flipping motion again, sweat collecting on the back of his neck. He mentally notes to buy Hunnigan the snack she likes so much too. They resume their search, beckoning the other to their spot as they find something funny or worthy to see. It’s fun, his worries melting away as he laughs away the night with you. But that heart is nowhere to be found, tired of squinting.  

“Ugh, this low lighting isn’t really helping,” You sigh, trailing back to where he’s stood.  

“Maybe some extra help then.” He pats the front of his jacket, digging into his inner pocket and then brandishing out his flip phone nonchalantly. You stare at it for a second, watch him as he flips it open and then burst into laughter.  

“What?” He asks in disbelief, watching you wheeze with amusement. 

“Wow,” You manage to choke out, “Well no wonder its so hard to reach you. Does your phone even have an email app?”  

“It works fine for me,” He grumbles, hoping you can’t see how scarlet he is under the night sky.  

“No, no,” You grin at him, pinching his cheeks. “It’s cute.”  

Leon almost jumps at your fingers connecting with his cheek, inadvertently leaning into your touch. You still, realisation hitting you of what you’re doing. But you don’t stop. Your fingers splay out, hesitantly cupping the side of his face. Leon watches you carefully, trying his best to control his breathing. You shudder as the bottom of your hand grazes against his stubble, thumb slowly caressing against his skin. Leon shuts his eyes under your soft touch, a sigh leaving his lips. 

He holds your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek, bringing you close to him by your waist. His eyes don’t stray from yours, keeping you in place. Your eyes glaze over, a sheen in them as they collect water.  

“Hi.” You whisper.  

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispers back. 

“You look old,” You laugh, the sound mixing with a sob. 

“So do you.” He hums back, fondly brushing your hair back from your face.  

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in. “Where were you? I waited for you for so long.”  

He pulls back to see you properly, tilting  your face up by a hand under your chin. He leans in, lips brushing over yours. You push yourself up on your toes, lips connecting with his. You feel so impossibly warm against him, lips slotting against his seamlessly. He breathes you in, tastes you deeply, gripping you against his body like he never plans on letting you go. You gasp against his lips as he steals your breath and noises.  

He pulls away just an inch, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, not daring to loosen his hold on you. “Not going anywhere now, sweetheart.” 

[planetkiimchi-rbs]

JUST KNOW YOU ATE THIS UPPP it was so good hold on i need to calm myself before i start talking about it

okay firstly !! i really love the characterisations, particularly jun’s + i loved the basketball court dialogue bc i could totally see wonwoo and jun talking to each other like that!

It’s at this point of his life that Jun realises he really isn’t used to people calling him by his proper first name. But the way you say it is different𑁋soft and warm, like an unexpected compliment.

i love how you included this part because i think it’s so cute !!! yk cuz jun is always referred to as jun so it’s so refreshing to see that other people would actually call him junhui upon their first meeting. also,, it’s so cute to me how y/n lowkey teases him by having his contact saved as “just jun” bc !! it’s like a little inside joke & the build-up to their feelings for each other is really good!

Jun observes as you draw a line down the sketch, clearly marking the brainstem. He’s listening, or at least trying to, but his mind keeps drifting back to how comfortable this whole situation feels.

i happened to really like this dialogue because i feel like you balanced it very well with the actually terminology for the tutoring + jun’s thoughts so it wasn’t like a huge chunk of talking on y/n’s part or a monologue on jun’s part. also loved your descriptions of jun spacing out & trying to focus (but failing) by repeating what y/n said

The way he only nods and gazes at you with pleading eyes almost resembling a cat stretching out for attention makes it almost impossible to resist.

well. this was great bc jun is 100% a cat. fight me. it’s really so cool how you managed to weave in little details about jun and made the fic very specific to him!!

secondly, i really loved your descriptions & portrayal of y/n while drunk! just them talking,, kinda rambling,, commenting on how “dreamy” is a silly word, trying to stay in control while clearly not being sober… wow. i also liked the scene where they were in the bus bc i reminds me of jun’s drama AND it’s just so cute how y/n is super stressed and jun tries to take care of them 🥺

You let your head fall slightly. “Thank you though.” He faces you curiously. “For what?” “Just…” For being here? For asking if I’m okay? “I don’t know. Thank you.”

THE ITALICS !!!! loved this soso much bc it’s soo cool how u show the many things y/n wanted to say but didn’t

thirdly, i loved their dynamic!

“Let’s see… Disinfect the table, take off your gloves and goggles, and then…” Your lips quirk up again. “Just stand there and look cute. I’ll handle the rest.” 

STAND THERE AND LOOK CUTE IM SOBBING the banter between them is so good! including the time when y/n made fun of jun for having too much perfume on lmao

“Sorry,” You both blurt out at the same time, voices mixing into one.

you perfectly portrayed the two awkward souls trying to manoeuvre around each other and it’s so adorable!!

pulse points | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. Being the TA for your anatomy class has always been really rewarding, especially stemming in your passion for the medical field. But as it’s approaching the peak of the school semester and labs have gotten more intense, you aren’t surprised to be dedicating your time to tutoring your strangely handsome, dorky, yet enigmatic classmate during after school hours — and reassuring him how to not be afraid of dissections. PAIRING. wen junhui x TA!reader (ft. performance unit as jun's roommates + mentions of wonwoo and jihoon) GENRE. fluff, classmates to lovers, humour WARNINGS/TAGS. unrealistic TA x student dynamics lmao, lots of medical sciency-anatomy talk, talks about dissections n cutting into things (they dissect a sheep brain), mentions of tools used for dissections, yn is wayyy too studious its a bit unhealthy perhaps, their love language is napping together n sharing food :(, alcohol and drinking (yn gets drunk 😣), they flirt in the middle of a damn dissection AHHAHA WORD COUNT. 15.9k

notes: this is my fic for the "back to school" collab hosted by @camandemstudios! i hope u all enjoy <3 was lowkey hating this fic as i wrote it but... i think it turned out fine?!?! thank you to all my moots, specifically @bananabubble @slytherinshua @etherealyoungk and the collab discord server for either helping me w ideas n brainrot or reading over the fic!! love u all to the stars and back <3

Three dollars is not enough for Jun to buy himself lunch. 

He could probably snag himself a stale, English muffin from the dining hall, but then he’d be walking around campus with a dry tongue until after his classes end. And unsurprisingly, he forgot his water bottle back in his apartment. Briefly, he considers texting Soonyoung or Minghao to perhaps drop by the apartment and grab his water bottle or even a quick snack that’ll last him, but the two of them were already knee deep enough of responsibilities of their own. 

Fucking capitalism. 

He’s already out of breath speed walking all the way from across campus and through four different hallways. The large windows of the science building bring in the natural sunlight at the peak of the afternoon, allowing it to cascade across the polished floors and right to the ends of his feet with every step that he takes. 

Jun purses his lips together tightly as he rounds one last corner before arriving in front of his current class: Anatomy. The quick glance at the time displayed on his phone shows that he’s around eight minutes late, which is way better than the fifteen minutes from last week. His shoulders slouch slightly with a bit of dread as he reaches for the doorknob and pulls it open.

Compared to the beginning of the year, there’s more empty seats in the lecture hall now. Honestly, Jun is surprised he hasn’t dropped out of the class yet, because his grade in all honesty isn’t… the best, to put it simply𑁋he’s passing, somehow, but just barely.

But he simply can’t afford to drop it and take on a new class like a snap of a finger, and he knows that if he bails now, he’ll only be prolonging his graduation date, a situation neither his parents nor his bank account would be happy about. He wasn’t even supposed to be in this class in the first place, but his horrible procrastination habits and the fact that the other classes he wanted filled up so quickly left him with no other choice.

Jun sits down in a seat near the back of the class, trying to blend in and hoping the professor won’t notice his tardiness. He swiftly pulls out his notebook and laptop and redirects his focus to the front of the classroom, where he sees Professor Lee already lecturing something about vascular anatomy and blood circulation, motioning towards the slideshow displayed on the screen. 

“…the brachiocephalic trunk branches off the aortic arch, which divides into the right subclavian artery and the right common carotid artery. These arteries supply blood to the arm and the brain, respectively…”

The words seem to flow through his brain like water. Even when he jots them down in his notes for him to study later, he reads the words like hieroglyphics. Perhaps it’s the hunger getting to him or just the mounting stress, but the lecture feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

By the time Professor Lee finishes with the lecture, he has five pages of notes that feel like a jumble of terms and diagrams.

However, just as he thought he might finally catch a break, the slideshow switches to the next slide. 

“Now, let’s discuss the final major lab that will be crucial for your grades,” Professor Lee explains, a determined look on his face. “Your dissections that you will be finishing the year off with. I’m letting you all know about these in advance so you would have plenty of time to prepare.”

Jun’s stomach drops. Dissections. Of course, he knew it was coming, as it was quite literally listed in eye-catching bold letters in the syllabus at the beginning of the term. Yet the thought of cutting into anything and seeing its insides makes him almost squeamish. 

“This will account for a significant portion of your final grade. I can’t stress enough how important it is to take this seriously. Remember that dissections aren’t just about retaining names and locations in the body. They’re about seeing the relationships between different structures and understanding how they function together in real life.”

Every fibre of his being is aching for him to raise his hand and stupidly refute. He imagines what he’d say𑁋“I’m not good with blood,” or “Is there another activity I could do because I’m absolutely scared shitless?”𑁋but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he slouches further in his seat, hoping to disappear. He weighs all of his options, but they’re all equally unappealing: he can’t drop the class, he can’t afford to fail, and he certainly can’t magically become proficient at dissections overnight.

“Since the class has an uneven amount of students and the limited amount of specimens we have, I’ve decided to pair you all up. Y/N, may you hand out the partner lists?”

Jun feels himself tense in his seat as his eyes scan the room and land on you. Not only are you the TA of the class, but your seemingly calm demeanour as you drift throughout the room handing each student paperwork makes you appear almost intimidating to his eyes. 

When you finally reach him, he swears he catches a glimpse of a slight curl to your lips as you silently hand him the slip of paper that contains his partner assignment, before walking down to the next person. 

At first, the paper essentially states the same information that was discussed earlier: the dissection assignment, guidelines, and a list of required materials. But then his gaze falls to the part that matters most: his partner's name.

Y/N L/N, it reads. You’re his partner. Shit.

Your calm, composed attitude and role as the TA have already set a high bar for expectations in his mind. You’re probably going to be hyperanalysing and dissecting every aspect of his class performance, knowing his poor little heart wouldn’t be able to handle all that. You probably already have this tarnished reputation of him in your mind, with his frequent tardiness and the amount of times he’s dozed off in class.

Jun glances around the lecture hall, noticing other students exchanging whispers and glances at their own partner assignments. Some seem relieved, while others look as apprehensive as he feels. His stomach churns with the thought of having to work closely with you.

Professor Lee clears his throat and speaks, “Now that you all know your partners, I request that you all sit next to each other. These will be your seats starting from today and until the lab finishes. I also strongly encourage you all to exchange contact information with each other. Your collaboration together will be vital to your success in this lab.”

As the students shuffle around, Jun finds himself stuck in an uncomfortable limbo, watching as everyone pairs up and settles into their new seats, naturally exchanging contact information with one another. Then he shuffles for his backpack that was leaning against his chair in order to go find where you sit, but as he’s about to stand up, he’s met with you taking a seat right next to him.

Your eyes meet. A faint smile crosses your features. His backpack slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor with a dramatic thump.

“Hi,” You greet him softly, before offering a hand to him. “Granola bar? Had an extra one.”

Jun just blinks, eyes flickering between your face and the hand you have extended out to him. Then he awkwardly clears his throat, tentatively reaching out to grab the granola bar from your grasp, and the warmth emitting from your hand seems to crawl up his neck. 

“Thanks,” he mutters sheepishly, shifting his gaze away to hide a small upturn to the corners of his lips. 

The rest of class passes by in a blur, mainly with Professor Lee going over proper attire to wear and safety protocols for the dissection labs. And when the clock strikes dismissal time, students begin to filter out of the lecture hall, chatting amongst themselves as Jun struggles to stuff his laptop inside his backpack. 

You’re already gone to the front to talk to Professor Lee when Jun looks over. He watches as you hand in what looks like a stack of paper, only to be given another one right back, probably of assignments that the class has done lately. The air of professionalism that surrounds you is quite admirable, he would say. 

You seem to exchange a few more words with Professor Lee before turning on your heel to leave the lecture hall, the stack of papers neatly held under your arm.

By the time Jun is already on his way to his next class, he pulls the granola bar that you had given him out from the pocket of his jeans, unwrapping it and taking a bite out of it, savouring the moment as it relieves his nerves and gnawing hunger. 

Then by the time finishes his last class for the day, reality hits him the second he steps out of the building. Figuratively, and maybe even literally, at this point. 

He forgot to get your number for this lab.

The click of your pen echoes throughout the vast lecture hall. Unintelligible mutters leave your lips as your eyes quickly scan over the papers in front of you with ease. Among the many tasks you have assigned as TA, grading assignments is one of them, and you find yourself marking and correcting each paper just as you’ve done many times before. 

There used to be rumours floating around that your grading style was particularly strict, even more so than Professor Lee. Though it was probably spread around with the intention to intimidate other students and establish your reputation as someone annoyingly meticulous, you hardly let it get to you. 

The truth is, you were fair in your grading, but thorough. You didn’t see the point in letting half-baked work slide, especially when you knew these assignments could determine someone’s future. Medicine has been your passion for as long as you could remember, and that dedication extended into almost everything you did. Being the TA for the class was just one factor of it. 

It’s much, much quieter after school hours when most classes have finished for the day, and it’s natural to bask in the peacefulness that drifts throughout the barren room. You sort out the papers in front of you in a neat stack before taking a moment to stretch your arms up above your head, a soft sigh leaving you at the tension dissipating away from your limbs. 

As you begin to shuffle through all the papers in front of you𑁋separating them into piles of graded assignments and unfinished ones that you’ll save for later on𑁋there’s a quiet knock at the door that makes you pause in place. You turn your head towards the door, anticipating for someone to come in. 

Then another knock.

You swear you see some sort of shadow in the door window. It appears then disappears, and you  roll your eyes, thinking it was just someone who was lost or purposely going around knocking on each door (which has happened way more than one could expect). 

The shadow appears again, and this time, you decide on heading to the door yourself. And as you twist the doorknob and pull the door open simultaneously, you find yourself coming face-to-face with Jun, who looks a bit sheepish as he’s caught mid-knock. His eyes widen upon seeing you right in front of him, and he brings his hand down to his side. 

You blink up at him, not expecting for him to be here at this moment of the day.

“Junhui?” 

It’s at this point of his life that Jun realises he really isn’t used to people calling him by his proper first name. But the way you say it is different𑁋soft and warm, like an unexpected compliment.

“Uh, hi,” he greets a tad bit awkwardly, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

“Oh, no, you’re not. Don’t worry,” You tell him reassuringly, catching the way his eyes seem to flicker everywhere but on you. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

Jun fidgets slightly, his gaze bouncing between the floor and your face. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Actually, I... um, forgot to get your number earlier today. For… for the lab, I mean. Professor Lee said we should exchange information so I thought I would ask. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. “Ah, I see. No problem. I’m glad you came by to get it. Here, let me just𑁋”

You shove into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

You shove a hand into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

“Here, you can come in. Let me just get my phone real quick.” You step to the side and open the door wider for him.

Jun visibly hesitates in the doorway, before muttering a quiet thank you and stepping inside the lecture hall. It’s certainly a sight to see the room so stripped of other students besides you and him, the sounds of his footsteps bouncing off the walls. He takes in the stacks of papers that you have spread across your desk, and he feels some nerves snake their way up his spine at the thought of you grading his work.

“Wow, that looks like a lot,” he comments gingerly. 

“Yeah, it’s quite the pile, right?” You agree with a light chuckle as you grab your phone and unlock it. “Always happens near the end of the sem.” 

Jun’s eyes wash over you with a look of concern. “That seems… stressful.”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, it keeps me busy.” 

“Well, you should get some good rest after this then,” he remarks coolly. 

“Wish I could, but I have some tutoring scheduled in about half an hour,” You say, tone warm but tinged with a hint of weariness as you glance at the time on your phone. “One of the students in the intro biology class needs help with some of the basics before their midterm. So… rest will have to wait.”

From that, Jun shifts awkwardly, his fingers playing with the strap of his backpack. His brain races as he considers his options. You’re clearly knowledgeable and dedicated, not to mention you seem approachable, but the thought of admitting how much he’s struggling makes his throat dry, plus the guilt of adding more to your busy plate. 

“Tutoring, huh?” Jun finally says, trying to sound casual. “Is that… something you do a lot?”

You nod, tapping away on your phone as you pull up your contact information. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice to help people out. Keeps me up with the material too. Usually I’m free most days at any time after classes.”

Jun continues to gaze at you wonderingly until after you pick up your head to look at him, to which he faces away immediately. He scratches the back of his neck bashfully, before fixing his posture and clearing his throat.

“Do you… have room for one more student?” Then he feels the immediate regret afterwards. “It’s okay if not. I know that you’re busy and all that𑁋”

“Junhui,” You interrupt gently, a calm smile on your face. “I have room. Don’t worry about it.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, the reassuring warmth on your face easing the knots in his stomach. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’d be more than happy to find a time that works for us both. Just let me know what you need, and we’ll figure a time out. We’re lab partners, after all,” You say gleefully. “Speaking of which, you can put your number in here.”

You extend an arm with your phone in-hand. Jun takes the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment, and types in his phone number and information. When he hands the phone back, he looks up to meet your eyes, trying to muster a more confident expression.

“Thank you so much, really, I…” His voice trails off for a moment, trying to regain his words. “I’ll owe you one for this, truly.” 

“There’s no need.”

Jun shakes his head. “Seriously, I’ll feel bad.”

You bite at your bottom lip in thought, an endearing look washing over your features as you consider his insistence. The pleading in his eyes is hard to ignore, and it makes your heart soften in your chest. You take a moment to think before offering a small, playful grin.

“Alright.” You cross your arms together. “We’ll see.” 

Perhaps… you aren’t as intimidating as he thinks.

Jun is staring at a sheep brain. 

Not a real one𑁋a picture of one, specifically. It’s apparently very similar to the human brain, and the specimen he’s expected to dissect for the upcoming lab. 

He stares at the image displayed on the large screen right before his eyes, feeling a strange mix of fascination and dread. The detailed structures and labels are overwhelming, each word swimming in and out of focus as he tries to absorb the information. It's not that he isn't interested𑁋on the contrary, there's a part of him that's genuinely curious about how it all works, and the other part of him is utterly disturbed. 

You’re sitting next to him again, just like everyone else is sitting next to their partners, taking notes and even drawing a very rushed outline of the brain on your paper. 

“We have to dissect that…?” Jun whispers under his breath, as if speaking any louder might bring the brain to life. 

“Yep,” You reply, glancing over at Jun. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Jun attempts to stifle a groan, eyes going between the image on the screen and down to his near-empty notes. He can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s going to get through this without completely embarrassing himself.

Letting your eyes roam over Jun for a moment, the visible discomfort in the way he crosses his arms together and the furrow in his brow doesn’t escape your notice. Casually, you scoot your chair towards him a little bit, along with your notebook so that it’s settled in the space between the two of you with the outline of the brain clearly visible on the page. Your shoulder almost brushes against his. 

“Here,” You say softly, tapping your pen on the page. “I’ve got the main structures labeled already. You can add them to your notes if you want. I can explain it to you in more detail when you come to tutoring tomorrow?”

Oh, that’s right. Tomorrow is the day you both were free and decided it was the day where Jun could stop by after classes end to have his first tutoring session with you. 

“Yeah, uh, that would be great,” Jun responds quietly, peeking over at how neat and organised your notes appeared to be. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You nod, before soundlessly shuffling inside your bag and extending it out to Jun. “Granola bar?” 

Jun glances at the granola bar being offered by you, its wrapper crinkling slightly as you hold it out to him. He smiles, a little lopsided but genuine, and takes the bar from you. The hesitation in his shoulders has deflated slightly than from the first time you proposed one to him. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Bro, are you going out on a date or what? You’re stinking up a storm here.” Soonyoung lets out a few dramatic coughs at the sudden sharp scent of Minghao’s perfume hitting his nose, followed by Chan behind him nearly gagging at the smell. Though obviously one would expect for the owner himself to be the one using it, he certainly didn’t expect for the culprit to be none other than Jun.

Okay, yes, he may have accidentally sprayed a shit ton of Minghao’s perfume on himself, which was a bit of an overkill. But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight after waking up from a nap between deciding to take a really quick shower or stealing his roommate’s expensive perfume. 

“You think this is too much?” Jun asks unsurely. 

Beside him, Chan rolls his eyes while clutching a bowl of ramen. “You smell like you’re trying to cover up a crime scene. It might suffocate someone. Where are you even going anyway?”

Jun clears his throat. “Tutoring𑁋”

“Tutoring?!” Soonyoung exclaims in surprise. “For which class?”

“Anatomy𑁋”

“Hell no,” Soonyoung crinkles his nose at the mention of anatomy. “You're telling me you’re getting all dolled up for a tutoring session on dissecting brains and guts? Are you trying to seduce the organs or something?” 

Jun groans at his roommate’s words, shaking his head. But before he can say anything in response, Chan seems to beat him to it.

“Don’t you have this really strict TA in your class too? I’ve heard that they don’t even offer partial credit or crack a smile during lectures. Like, they’re just a machine, dude,” the youngest adds in.

It’s quite literally insane to hear that kind of description about you leave Chan’s mouth when all of his interactions with you have been nothing but short and sweet, to put it simply. Though he won’t deny he’s heard all those rumours spread around about you𑁋that you’re strict, and perhaps a bit intimidating. He’s had his fair share of moments where he felt overwhelmed by your grading and meticulous nature. Yet from what he’s seen of you so far, you’re passionate, friendly if anything, and your smile is… cute. 

Jun only shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, they’re in my class, but I’m just trying to get my grade up before the year ends. I think I can handle them.” 

Soonyoung huffs a breath, stepping up to Jun and giving him some sort of comforting pat on the back, almost like he feels bad for him. 

“Well, good luck, dude,” he reassures him, though it hardly eases Jun’s nerves at all. “Don’t get crucified in there.” 

As Jun wanders down the familiar hallway to the classroom, he finds his thoughts beginning to second-guess everything. What if he ultimately fails meeting your expectation at the end of the session? What if he struggles to fully grasp the material and ends up looking like an absolute fool in front of you by the time the real dissections roll around? 

However, those thoughts are pushed away when the door to the classroom swings open before he has the opportunity to knock, with you standing on the other side. Your face seems to light up at the sight of him, and it makes Jun briefly think about what Soonyoung said earlier about you. Like… was he talking about the same person?

“Hey, you made it,” You greet him, stepping aside so he could walk in. “Let me just finish organising some things and we can start.” 

Jun’s eyelashes bat together in curiosity as he watches you rummage through some papers, before deciding it's worth sitting down to wait for you. He places himself down an empty desk, fishing out his notebook and laptop and whatever he may need, though he doesn’t really know. By the time you’re making your way over to him, you set your stuff right next to his. 

“Okay.” You let out a relieved breath, peering at him. “Where do you want to start?” 

Oh, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet.

“Uh,” Jun stammers, fumbling for a moment, his mind suddenly drawing blanks. He quickly opens his notebook to the page where he had jotted down some half-baked notes during class and is staring back at him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Maybe… maybe we can start with what we’re going over in class right now? And just go down from there?”

“We can do that,” You agree without hesitation, leaning in more so that you were able to see his notes. Jun draws himself slightly back. “So, as you know, we’re going to have to be familiar with the parts and functions of the brain since it’s also part of the dissections. What I like to do is break it down into smaller sections and tackle each one individually. It might make the whole thing less overwhelming.”

Jun just nods, appreciating the way you’re making things more approachable. 

You grab a blank sheet of paper and draw a quick, simple outline of the brain, labeling the major parts with clear, concise notes. “Let’s go over the basics𑁋the cerebrum, cerebellum, and brainstem. These are the main regions we need to understand before diving into all the nitty-gritty details. Is that okay?”

He nods again, moving back slightly closer so he can see what you’re drawing. 

“The cerebrum is the largest part of the brain and is responsible for higher brain functions like thinking, reasoning, and sensory processing,” You continue, pointing to the relevant part of your drawing. “It’s divided into the left and right hemispheres, and each one controls the opposite side of the body.”

Jun watches as you explain, occasionally nodding to show he’s following along. There’s something calming about the way you speak𑁋gentle, but confident, filled with poise. He tries to shake off the thought, reminding himself that he’s here to study, not to admire the way your eyes light up when you speak so passionately about a topic as ridiculous and complex as the damn brain. 

You’re so different from what people say. There’s no sign of the strict, no-nonsense TA everyone talks about. 

“...and that’s why the frontal lobe is so important for decision-making and problem-solving. I like comparing it to, let’s say, a CEO,” You explain. “It’s where a lot of our executive functions happen. Think of it as the brain’s ‘boss’ making the big decisions and planning.”

Jun blinks for a moment, snapping back to attention, quickly jotting down a note to make it seem like he was paying attention. He actually was, sort of. Somehow he’s lucky enough for you to not notice him being distracted (or you do, and he’s the one who didn’t notice). 

“Frontal lobe, right,” he mutters lowly, under his breath.

“The cerebellum is our little assistant to the CEO. It’s responsible for our movement, coordination, and balance,” You say, pointing to a spot on the sketch at the very back of the brain and above the brainstem. “Think of it as the brain’s quality control. It just makes sure that whatever movements we do are smooth and precise, so…” 

Nope. He still can’t detect those rumours that paint you as some sort of cold, calculated, and harsh TA. He spots not a single one of those in your demeanour. Briefly, he wonders whether or not those rumours bother you, if they’ve ever bothered you or made you feel misunderstood. Swiftly, though, he brushes those thoughts away𑁋he’s more focused on you than the material at hand. 

It’s hard not to look at you, in all honesty. 

“Junhui?” Your voice pulls him back to reality.

“Huh?” he responds, a little too quickly.

You tilt your head slightly, a small, knowing smile on your lips. “I asked if you’re ready to move on to the brainstem, or do you want to go over the cerebellum again?”

“Oh, um… no, I’m good,” he says, feeling his face heat up slightly. He hopes you don’t notice how flustered he is. “Let’s move on.”

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and continue your explanation, turning your attention to the next section of the brain. 

“The brainstem,” You begin, pointing to an area at the bottom of the brain with the pencil. “is like the brain's relay station. It connects the brain to the spinal cord and controls many of the body’s automatic functions, like breathing, heart rate, and digestion. Without it, our bodies wouldn't be able to function properly…”

Jun observes as you draw a line down the sketch, clearly marking the brainstem. He’s listening, or at least trying to, but his mind keeps drifting back to how comfortable this whole situation feels. He expected to be a nervous wreck, fumbling through explanations and possibly embarrassing himself in front of you. But instead, he finds himself oddly at ease, more focused on how you’re able to break down the complex information into something so much more digestible.

“Still with me?” You ask suddenly, looking up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Jun answers unsurely, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. He offers a small smile, hoping it masks his earlier distraction.

A flicker of amusement flashes in your eyes, and there’s a warmth in your expression that puts Jun further at ease. “Okay, great. We can continue then.”

The rest of the session goes by surprisingly rather quickly. You guide Jun through the material, your explanations helping Jun absorb the information more effectively than the regular in-class lectures. It makes him think about how great you would be as a professor, or anything in the medical field. Everything just seems to flow out of you seamlessly as you discuss various brain functions and their relevance to anatomy and dissections.

As Jun is finishing up the last of some notes, you ask, “Would you mind if I write you a little sticky note? To tell you what to look over when you’re reviewing on your own?” 

Jun looks up, a bit surprised but grateful. “That would be good, thank you.” 

You stand up to retrieve a sticky note from Professor’s Lee desk, before returning back to Jun and writing down: 

Review over neuroanatomy and its functions! •ᴗ•  

Finally, you plaster the sticky note at the corner of the page in his notebook. 

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as you both gather your belongings. It feels like a small victory for Jun𑁋he not only survived the session but actually, in a way, enjoyed it.

As you both stand up, ready to leave, you glance over at him.

“By the way, I don’t think you need all that perfume on,” You say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jun’s eyes widen, caught off-guard. Shit. “Oh, uh𑁋yeah, that…”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just… a little overwhelming. Maybe tone it down next time?”

Jun’s face flushes as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I uh… was rushing and just grabbed what I could find. I didn’t mean to overdo it.”

“You’re all good,” You reassure him, still smiling as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Just a little heads-up. So, anyway, for the next session…”

Next session? His jaw nearly drops to the floor at your casual mention of a next session. 

“...I think I’ll try and set up a little lesson plan we can reference off of… probably review over the cardiovascular system…”

“You… You don’t have to do all that,” Jun interjects. “It sounds like a lot of work.” 

You dismiss him off with a reassuring wave. “It’s no trouble. I think it’ll help to have a structured plan for us to follow. It’ll make sure we cover everything orderly.” 

Jun zips his mouth shut and just nods in agreement, unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, biting it back when he hangs his head down to the ground. When he perks back up, he finds you over at Professor Lee’s desk, sorting through some papers before organising the stack and preparing to finally leave. He opens his mouth, but the words he wanted to say stick to his tongue.

“I’ll see you later?” Jun calls out to you instead, his voice bouncing off the walls of the lecture hall. 

You glance up at him in acknowledgment. “I’ll see you later, Junhui.”

He takes a visible gulp.

“Jun,” he suddenly says, saying it as if he were correcting you, which in a way, he is, but it comes out a bit awkwardly. “You can call me just Jun, if you’d like.” 

A wave of surprise washes over your features, before ultimately fading into a pleasant smile.

“Alright, Just Jun,” You reply, tilting your head slightly. “I’ll see you later.” 

One could probably say you’re a party pooper. Not necessarily intentionally, but instead of filling up your college experience with going to parties and social events, you find yourself buried within pages of textbooks. Your weekends aren’t filled with the chaoticness of drinking and loosening up; rather, they consist of quiet study sessions in your room and creating new lecture material.

You’re not avoiding fun𑁋at least, that’s what you always tell yourself𑁋you’re just focused on achieving your academic goals.

It’s a routine carved ever since you were younger, your parents constantly instilling that education is the key to success, and you’ve taken that message to heart. From an early age, you learned to prioritise your studies over everything else. As you grew older, you carried that mindset with you, where you’ve become known among your peers as the diligent, dependable student and TA who always has their priorities straight.

Your schedule is precise, your assignments are always turned in on time, always prepared for every quiz and exam, and your grades reflect the countless hours you’ve spent studying. It’s a reputation you’re proud of, but it also comes with a certain level of pressure𑁋pressure to maintain those high standards, to never let yourself slip.

You sit back in the seat, satisfied after crafting a proper lesson plan and organising your materials for your next tutoring session. When you glance over at your planner to see who was coming in today, the name that you spot is𑁋

Knock. 

You glance up from your planner and over to the door. “Come in!”

It takes a few moments for the door to swing in, and the tall figure that steps through is unmistakable𑁋light brown hair slightly fluffed out, a half-opened black backpack hanging on his shoulders, and an oversized hoodie that appeared way more comfortable than it needed to be.

“Jun?” You look at the time on your phone. “You’re here early.” 

“Oh, yeah…” Jun runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I thought showing up early could give us some extra time, maybe. Unless… unless you’re still busy?” 

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Just give me a few minutes and then we can start?”

“Yeah. Take all the time that you need.” 

Once again, it’s only the two of you in the lecture hall. He ponders if you’ve tutored any students before him today, hovering near you as he watches you sort through some papers and adjust your notes. The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of papers and the soft hum of the air conditioning. Jun can sense his curiosity growing within him, making him fidget with the strap of his backpack. 

“So, uh… how long have you been a TA for Professor Lee?” 

You pick your head up from your papers, fingers resting at the edge of the desk. 

“Since the beginning of the year,” You reply. “I got recommended to him by some previous professors, and I guess I couldn’t say no to the opportunity.”

Jun nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you like it? Being a TA, I mean.”

You consider his question for a moment, feeling a bit reflective as you answer, “I do, actually. It’s hard but rewarding, you know? I get to help students understand the material better, and I learn a lot in the process too. It’s a good balance between teaching and learning, I would say.”

Jun takes in your words attentively, peeking his eyes toward you with an almost shy smile. There’s a quiet admiration in the way he looks at you that you don’t notice, as if he’s trying to understand how you manage to keep everything together so well. Then a moment of silence fills the space between you two, not uncomfortable, maybe a bit awkward on his end, but more contemplative.

Jun shifts this abominable weight pressing down on him from one foot to the other. He’s not used to being in situations like this𑁋alone with someone who seems so put together, so sure of themselves. It’s both inspiring and a little intimidating. The silence seems to stretch, and you can see the gears turning in his head, like he’s on the verge of saying something but can’t quite find the right words.

“I guess I wonder how you manage it all so well,” he remarks timidly. “You’re always so organised and… on top of things. I’m curious how you do it.”

You purse your lips together into a thin line and simply shrug your shoulders. “I’ve always had high expectations for myself growing up and I guess it’s carried into everything I do now. It’s become second nature, really.” 

As Jun takes in your words, that sense of admiration seems to soften into a bit of worry. It’s amazing that you could handle so many responsibilities at once, but the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like a lot of stress and pressure to manage. He wonders if you ever feel overwhelmed or if it ever gets too much to handle at times. 

You probably do𑁋you’re human, after all𑁋and a twinge of concern snakes up his spine as he thinks about.

“Anyway, hm… I was thinking about going over the cardiovascular system for this session. What do you say?” You ask him.

Jun snaps out of his thoughts, walking briskly over towards the desk to take a seat. “Oh, yeah. That sounds good.” 

The session is just similar to last time: you begin by outlining the cardiovascular system, breaking it down into different sections just as you did with the brain, and using relatable analogies with associating each part with their functions.

“...so the heart has four chambers: the left and right atria plus the left and right ventricles,” You explain, pointing down to the drawing you made with the tip of your pencil. “The right side deals with deoxygenated blood, while the left side handles oxygenated blood. The heart’s valves make sure that blood flows in the correct direction. Think of it like… traffic signals.”

“Traffic signals…” Jun mutters to himself as he writes down notes. Knowing that this is all going on within his own body wraps around his mind uncomfortably.

As you continue explaining, there’s that light again that Jun detects in your eyes, as well as the subtle lift to your lips that makes your voice just a step higher. His gaze also follows your hands that you unknowingly maneuver when you talk, the movements graceful and expressive, like you’re bringing the material to life.

“Are you familiar with where all your pulse points are?” 

Jun lifts a brow, thinking for a second, before taking a finger down to his wrist. “I think so. There’s one here… on the wrist…”

“The radial artery.”

“Radial artery. Yeah.” Then he drags the tip of his finger up to his inner elbow. “There’s also one here. The brachial artery, right?”

“You got it.” 

He grins bashfully at that, though it’s quick to fade when he focuses again, pointing down to his leg. “There’s also two here. Femoral and… pop… Popliteal?”

“You’re right,” You confirm wholeheartedly, and Jun’s heart flutters in small victory. 

Jun then brings his hand back up, using two fingers to point to a spot on his neck. 

“And, uh… The one here on the neck. It’s…” He continues pressing down into his skin to find where he can feel his pulse, but your eyes on him is causing him to feel a bit self-conscious. “Uh…”

“The carotid artery. Right here.”

Before Jun has a chance to correct himself, you’re suddenly scooting closer to him in your chair, leaning in and extending an arm out towards him. The sudden contact of your fingers on the side of his neck makes his eyes widen and his breath to hitch. 

Your fingers rest gently on the side of his neck, just below his jawline, and for a brief moment, the world outside of the lecture hall seems to disappear. The visible swallow of his Adam’s apple isn’t hard to miss as he tries to focus on anything but the sensation of your hand on his neck.

Heat washes over his face, and he swears to himself that you could most definitely feel the way his pulse is running marathons under your touch. All of a sudden his tongue goes dry, his limbs go numb, and the way you’re so close to him makes it hard for him to properly think straight, let alone form any sort of coherent response.

Your eyes meet for a singular millisecond, too quick that Jun could have possibly been imagining it.

Pulling your hand away, you clear your throat soundly. “Try it.”

It takes Jun a moment to register you were talking to him, and he tentatively replaces the spot where your fingers were at with his own.

“Right here?” he asks.

“Mhm.” Your gaze roams over his concentrated face. “Apply a bit of pressure. That’s the carotid artery doing its work.” 

His pulse is certainly fast. The thought has him sinking into a pit of embarrassment. 

But he only nods, keeping his voice steady as he says, “Yeah, I feel it.”

“So whenever you want to count your heart rate, this is one of the places you can check,” You instruct. “You can just press down on that spot and count the number of beats you feel in 15 seconds. Then, multiply that number by four, and you’ll have your heart rate in beats per minute.”

Jun attempts to listen to his heart rate, but the attentive look you have on your face as you watch him makes it really hard to properly count. So he chooses to let his hand fall back down. He wouldn’t be able to calculate it with you here with him anyway. 

When the two of you meet eyes for the nth time, there’s a fleeting, almost electric moment of mutual awareness. None of you acknowledge it, yet it awkwardly lingers in the air. Warmth spreads across Jun’s chest, coupled with a nervous energy that makes his heart beat soar just a little faster.

You break the tension with an airy chuckle. “Are you ready to move on?” 

Jun blinks a few times, shaking off whatever awkwardness swirling around him, and nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

By the time he gets back to his apartment later that evening and begins to unpack his things from his backpack, a small piece of pink paper flutters down to the floor like a feather, landing by his foot. It’s a sticky note, reading:

Good sesh today •ᴗ• Don’t forget to review!

“There’s no way I’m touching a brain.”

“Jun, you have to! You’ll be wearing gloves anyway𑁋”

“I cannot cut into a brain. That is gross,” Jun rebukes defensively, face scrunching up with stubborn refusal. 

“Jun, dissections are really important for anatomy,” You clarify calmly. “It’s part of the learning process.”

“Yeah, I… I know,” he mumbles defeatedly, almost shameful to admit. “I’m not that good with, uh… dead things. Like, couldn’t we look at diagrams or pictures instead? They’re less… squishy.” 

You smile amusedly at that, finding his squeamishness a bit endearing. But you straighten your posture and plaster on a reassuring look to your face. 

“I understand that it’s not for everyone,” You respond, a comforting tone to your voice. “But getting hands-on experience is really valuable. It’s one thing to see it in a book, but actually being able to identify the structures in real life makes a big difference in how you understand the material.”

Jun still looks apprehensive, but your words bring a sparkle of determination to his eyes. The idea of cutting into something that used to be alive still makes his stomach turn and the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, but he knows that you’re right. When are you not right?

“It just feels illegal,” Jun admits uneasily, a shudder running through him at the thought. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“That’s what I’m here for, remember?” You lightly nudge him in the arm with your elbow, attempting to lighten the mood. “We’re partners, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” There’s some hesitation, his gaze dropping down to his shoes. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “I want to show you that I’m capable of doing something…”

“Then we’ll start off slow, make you become familiar with everything,” You reason gently. “I know you’re not the only one who feels queasy by it, but you’ll have to face it. Facing your fears can help in conquering them, you know.” 

The corners of Jun’s lips tug up at that, mainly from the fact that you’re able to reassure him this effortlessly. He can’t tell if it’s exactly your words that eases up his nerves or if it’s simply your presence here with him right now thawing away the ice of his fears. Whatever it is, all he can really say is he likes knowing that you genuinely care.

And he likes knowing that you’re right next to him too.

“If I freak out,” he starts. “You’ll promise to help me out?”

Your lips draw into a thin line, a certain playfulness softening the features of your face. 

“No promises, but𑁋”

“Hey!”

“Study what we discussed today and then I’ll consider it.” There’s still a twinge of tease to your words, but the edges are roughened with a touch of sincerity. 

Jun just grins. How could anyone ever make up ridiculous rumours about you?

“Good game, man. Same time again next Saturday?”

Jun huffs out a winded breath, dabbing at the sweat that clings to his forehead with the edge of his shirt before taking a long chug out of the water bottle that Wonwoo tosses over to him. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you then,” he replies exhaustedly, taking another tip of water, feeling his muscles aching from the game. 

As his friends leave the basketball court, he starts to retrieve his own belongings, slinging his backpack and hoodie over his shoulder and starting his walk towards the bus stop so he could go back home. The sun has completely set at this point, the night sky now blanketing the city in a cool, comfortable darkness. The breeze that floats through the air relieves some of the tension in his body, cooling his skin after the intense game. Jun walks slowly, taking his time on the way to the bus stop, simply savouring the peacefulness of the evening.

He considers getting food for himself𑁋there’s a small convenience store that he spots at the corner of his eye, and his stomach rumbles at the thought. 

He changes direction and heads toward the store, the faint jingling of the door chime greeting him as he steps inside. The store is a cozy, cluttered space with a mix of snacks, drinks, and other essentials. He decides on grabbing a cold drink and some instant ramen that he can heat up when he gets home. And after purchasing, he heads back outside and continues his way to the bus stop.

Tapping his bus card on the scanner, Jun makes his way toward the back of the bus and settles into a seat closest to the window, the seat right next to him vacant. The bus was mostly empty, but everyone else was spread out in their own seats either dozing off, listening to music, or staring out the window. It’s quite nice, he must say.

The sounds of him crumpling his bag fills the still air of the bus as he waits for the bus to move, but the hissing of the doors opening perks his attention up. 

Out of all things, he certainly never expected to see the sight of you breathlessly climbing onto the bus, muttering apologies towards the bus driver as you scramble for your bus card in your wallet. Your backpack is about to slip off your shoulder, cheeks flushed from assuming all the running you did to get here, and a mask of tiredness that you wear on your face that isn’t hard to notice. Were you at campus? It’s almost ten at night. 

And out of all things, he didn’t expect for you to come over to him among the many empty seats in the bus. 

“Hey,” You greet him breathlessly, glancing down at the empty seat next to him. “Are you fine with me sitting here?” 

Jun blinks, before speedily adjusting himself, forcing his body more into the seat so you would have all the room that you wanted. He gives you a nod. 

Smiling faintly, you sit down right next to him, shoulder brushing against his. You settle your backpack on your lap and lean back a bit, finally allowing yourself to relax. The bus lurches, beginning to move forward. Jun lets his eyes wash over you.

“Did… you just come from campus?” he asks. 

You laugh awkwardly at that. “Yeah, I… I was studying.”

“You study this late at night on campus?”

“I do.” It’s a bit funny admitting that, you don’t know why. “Sorta lost track of time, I guess.” 

Jun keeps a fixed look on you, as if there was some anomaly within your words, but he knows you’re telling the truth. He just can’t believe that anyone would stay on campus so late, plus you look way too tired, like you could pass out any second. Some worry flows down his body. 

“That sounds… exhausting,” he says, concern edging his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You glance at him, eyes softening slightly. There’s something about him asking that tugs at your heart. “I’m fine. It’s not unusual for me to be up late studying. I’m used to it.”

Jun feels his fingers twitch around the bag in his grasp. “I see.”

You let your head fall slightly. “Thank you though.”

He faces you curiously. “For what?”

“Just…” For being here? For asking if I’m okay? “I don’t know. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know why you’re thanking him; if anything he should be the one thanking you.

“Oh.” A small smile appears on his lips. “You’re welcome.”

He feels weird. Not in a bad sense𑁋far from that, actually. It’s basically his first time ever interacting with you that isn’t on school grounds, and in a way right now, he isn’t the student and you’re not the TA. He’s simply Jun, and you are… well, you. You’re just two people sharing a late bus ride, and Jun is oddly grateful for the chance to see this side of you𑁋tired, a little vulnerable, but still yourself nonetheless.

The bus rumbles lightly. Silence swirling the air around the two of you. Jun glances at your profile, noticing how your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before snapping open again. His fingers twitch again, wanting to do something more𑁋maybe offer you his jacket, or ask if you need anything𑁋but he holds himself back.

The thought of pushing himself to exhaustion like that feels foreign. But he knows you well enough𑁋or at least, he’s seen you enough𑁋to know you’re driven, always working hard, sometimes too hard. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s okay to slow down.

“Y/N?” he calls out quietly.

You face him with a cute, sleepy look. “Hm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

You giggle lazily at that, the sound unguarded and relaxed. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You can close your eyes. When’s your stop?”

Gazing at the window for a few moments, you take note of the familiar surroundings that the bus passes by. “It should be the next one.” 

Before you can settle back into the seat, Jun quickly adds, suddenly feeling brave, “You can… lean on my shoulder if you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, then give him a drowsy, grateful smile. “I think I’d like that.”

With a sigh, you allow your head to rest against his shoulder, and Jun could only imagine how uncomfortable his own shoulder might be compared to a pillow, but he doesn’t mind, and neither do you as well𑁋at least he thinks you don’t.

Your eyes are closed when Jun leans down to sneak a glance at your face, your features softened with exhaustion. There’s the faintest sight of a smile to your lips, and it makes his own curve up slightly too. His heart stirs in his chest, all while attempting to fully compose himself so you wouldn’t be disturbed. 

As his eyes drift back outside, he leans his own head on the window, watching the cityscape pass by. There’s fatigue crawling up his body too, but he forces himself to stay awake so that he knows when your stop is approaching. He casts glimpses down to you to make sure you’re still comfortable, but every time he looks at you, his heart seems to do a little jump, a little flutter in his chest. 

Jun knows he shouldn’t hope for anything more than this moment, knows he shouldn’t let himself fall into dreams of what-ifs, but he can’t help it. Admitting to himself that he likes you is bizarre, almost too bold for him to fully accept. Yet here you are, leaning against him, breathing softly in your dazed state as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

And maybe, just maybe, he thinks, it could be.

You could tell there was something off about Jun today, and it seems to bother you a little more than you expect. 

He just didn’t seem to be… paying attention. You would explain something to him, and he’d reply with a small hum of acknowledgment before drifting off into a bit of a daydreaming state. Perhaps his mind was clouded and it wasn’t your place to ask, or maybe he was just tired. Regardless, you knew that it wouldn’t get either of you progress through this tutoring session, especially when you’re trying to instruct him about what to expect for the dissections.

“Jun?” You snap your finger in front of his face, and he immediately perks up. “You got all that down?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, the probe…” He trails off, looking a bit lost. “Uh, can you repeat it?”

“The probe is used to explore and identify different anatomical structures,” You explain slowly. “But remember to be careful with it. Tissues are very delicate, so one wrong move could cause damage.” 

You watch quietly as he writes down the notes, his head resting on his as if he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I saw you fall asleep today in class.”

Jun looks back up at you, eyes widening as if what he had done was some sort of crime. He suddenly appears more awake than ever.

“Crap, I… I’m sorry,” he mutters in apology, face flushing with embarrassment. “I knew you were lecturing since Professor Lee wasn’t here today, but I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t keep my eyes open that well. I’m really sorry.”

He could only assume the worst𑁋that you’re mad at him for falling asleep, when in reality he had stayed up late the night before to review over the material the two of you have covered so far during your sessions. But when your face softens into a look of understanding, he seems to relax. Just slightly. 

“Jun, it’s fine, really. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” You reassure him gently. “Trust me, you’re not in trouble and I’m not mad.”

He swallows down the lump in your throat. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Like really sure?”

“One thousand percent.”

“I’m not convinced.” A sly grin spreads across Jun’s face. What a dork.

“Unfunny,” You huff, before taking a seat right next to him and flipping through the pages in your lesson plan. 

Once again, Jun props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his hand, a playful smirk lingering on his face as he watches you. You feel his eyes on you. 

“It sort of gave me a little glimpse into your life, you know.” 

You glance up, intrigued. “Yeah? And what did you take from that?”

“That… I really cannot and will never be on your level of studying,” Jun admits sheepishly. He seems to crawl into himself a bit more as he continues hesitantly, “and, uh, made me admire you a little bit more too.”

You freeze at that, pausing mid-flipping through a page in your planner as his words float through the air. Admire… you? It wasn’t something you ever anticipated hearing from him𑁋ever anticipated to see him this forward𑁋especially not today when he seemed so out of it.

You clear your throat softly, trying to act nonchalant. “You admire me?”

Jun chuckles softly, the sound a little awkward as he tries to ease the tension. “Well, who wouldn’t?”

He’s probably digging himself into a bit of a hole right now, perhaps overstepping a small boundary of what was supposed to be just a casual tutoring session. But really, despite these sessions honestly really helping with understanding the material, he’s mainly here because… well… he gets to spend time with you. 

“Sorry, I-I mean… I made this weird, didn’t I?” Jun swiftly corrects himself, face flushing deeper with each word that leaves him. “I guess I just want to thank you for pushing me to do better. I’ve always… kind of admired that about you for a while now.”

Even you momentarily forget what you wanted to discuss with him for the session, a surge of warmth shooting through your body. The only sounds you could hear right now are the branches outside hitting the window from the wind and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The room was quiet, filled with an awkward, yet comfortable tension that neither of you seemed to know how to break.

“I’m glad to hear that,” You tell him. “It means a lot that you feel that way.” 

Relief and apprehension hugs around Jun, as if unsure whether he should say anything more or go back to tutoring. But he thinks he’s already said enough𑁋at this point his tired brain nearly made him confess his feelings, and that would be utterly stupid of him. 

“But you should really learn how to rest,” he suddenly says firmly.

You laugh that off way too easily. “You know that I can’t𑁋”

“I know, but… come on, just rest for a little bit,” Jun insists. “At least for a few minutes.”

“You’re seriously telling me to rest while I’m here to tutor you?” You lift a brow, almost teasingly.

The way he only nods and gazes at you with pleading eyes almost resembling a cat stretching out for attention makes it almost impossible to resist. And you would hate to admit that yeah, maybe you do push yourself way too much, that all the strenuous effort you put into studying is now starting to take a noticeable toll on you. At the moment, rest does sound really nice.

“My friends and I are planning a hangout this weekend at my place, if you’d like to join us. You… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, or if you’re not into that kind of stuff,” Jun informs you sheepishly. “It’s not a lot of us too, but if you ever want to just… unwind, you know, you could stop by. We aren’t doing anything too wild, just a chill get-together. They’re all cool, I swear.”

You consider his offer. Again, you were never much of a party person nor ever gave a crap about that sort of stuff, but the thought of taking a break from your routine is a bit... enticing, to say the least.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you,” You say with a grateful smile, finally giving in. “Give me a few minutes to tidy up?”

Jun watches for a few moments as you quickly organise through your notes and gather up the loose papers that have accumulated on the table, standing up and heading to the front of the lecture hall to put away the rest of the materials that you won’t need for the session. 

As he waits for you to finish, Jun sets aside his own stuff, folds his arms and places them on the table, slowly guiding his head to rest on top. He closes his eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest as much as his body craves.

By the time you get back, you catch a glimpse of Jun’s relaxed form in his seat, and your heart does a little flip in your chest. The corners of your lips tug up unknowingly into a soft smile as you settle into the seat cautiously next to him, feeling a wave of exhaustion hitting you all at once.

It’s rare that you let yourself go these days, but with Jun here, it seems easier to let your guard down, even for just a few minutes. 

Without much thought you let your head rest gently on your own arms, finding yourself staring at the front lecture hall, before ultimately, moving your head so that you were facing Jun. You’ve never seen him this close before, drawn into his features for a moment or two𑁋over his closed eyes and the small moles that pepper his cheek and one particular spot above his lips, which were curled up slightly. Contentment warms you like a blanket as you let your eyes drift to a close.

Unbeknownst to you, Jun slowly peeks his eyes open, being met with the sight of you resting so peacefully and comfortably beside him. A sense of calm takes over the vast lecture hall as he simply watches you, even feeling brave enough to lightly brush a strand of hair away from your face with his finger, before quickly pulling back when he catches your nose scrunching a little in your sleep. His heart swells even more.

He decides on settling back into his own arms, taking one last glance at you before drifting back into light sleep. 

“You’re way too smiley to be going to a tutoring session,” Chan points out as he catches Jun about to leave. “Isn’t it like your third time alone this week? Last week you went twice…”

Jun snorts annoyedly at that. “Yeah, and?”

“We’re just saying you’re way too happy to be going to tutoring, man,” Soonyoung continues on, an edge of suspicion to his words. “Did you find out the meaning of life? Figure out why our bodies cause us to shit and piss or why the earth goes around the sun?”

“I’d be happy to answer that question if you’re curious,” Jun states wryly. 

Soonyoung scrunches his face and shakes his head. “Please don’t.” 

His roommate only observes as Jun stuffs his feet into his Converse, which looked to be at the end of its life. Minghao comes out moments later, toothbrush in his mouth with bits of foam to the corners of his lips. Along with Soonyoung and Chan, the three of them watch as Jun finishes lacing up his shoes, his good mood unwavering.

“I think I have an answer to that question,” Minghao says, voice somewhat muffled.

Soonyoung faces the younger boy. “The piss or the earth one?”

“He has a crush,” Minghao states flatly, a subtle smirk creeping onto his face despite the toothbrush still dangling from his lips.

“A crush?” Soonyoung’s eyes widen as he exchanges a glance with Chan, the two of them looking like they were about to combust any second. “A crush on that scary TA?”

“They’re not scary!” Jun protests, face reddening hearing his own loud voice, secretly hoping to make some sort of quick escape before his friends could pry any further into his dry love life, but he knows he won’t be able to get them off his ass. “So what if I have a crush on them?”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops to the floor at that, before bursting into laughter. “‘So what’? You’re totally into them!” He starts bouncing on his toes, a grin stretching across his face. “You’re in loooove with the scary TA! This is gold.”

Jun could seriously strangle all of his roommates right now. He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the door, regretting opening his mouth. Was he seriously that obvious? “You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.” 

“Bro, you’re blushing so hard right now,” Chan chimes in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Minghao chuckles, finally pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. “It’s obvious. You don’t study like that for just anyone.”

Jun’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I𑁋okay, fine! Maybe I like them a little bit, but it’s not a big deal! I’m just trying to do well in class. Now, can I leave?” 

It takes one last torturous minute of teasing before Jun shoots his roommates with annoyed looks and heads out of the apartment.

Normally at nine o’clock, you would most likely be in the campus library studying until your eyes go dry, or in your own place with textbooks sprawled over your bed. But this time, you find yourself right in front of the address Jun sent you𑁋his address, specifically.

You’d spent the past few days thinking about his invitation, and despite some initial hesitation, you may be looking forward to this little break from your routine. Because according to Jun from a text he sent you the night before along with the address: it’s what you deserve.

Your heart still does a little jump when you think about it still.

[09:08 | y/n] Hey Jun! I’m here by the way

Your phone vibrates right away.

[09:09 | just jun] WHAT omg

[09:09 | just jun] sorry i’m coming out right now!!!

There’s a figure that emerges from a door, waving to you from above. You give out a small wave as you start to make yourself comfortable on the front steps of the building. Jun hurries down the stairs, looking both relieved and a bit flustered as he reaches you.

“Hey, I…” His eyes roam over you from head-to-toe. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” 

You offer a tentative smile. “Well, I figured, you know? Thought it would be nice to stop by for a little bit. Plus you live closer than I thought.”

Jun’s face brightens, the relief in his own grin oozing its way into your heart, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his place.

Just as he promised, the gathering was quite small. Jun introduces you to his roommates𑁋Minghao, Soonyoung, and Chan are their names (Soonyoung and Chan look oddly more excited to see you, for some reason)𑁋and two others in his year. You recognise Wonwoo, who is a TA from the English department, and the other is Jihoon, whose name had been tossed around quite frequently during your time in university.

Overall, the vibes have been quite laid-back, and the apartment has been warm and inviting so far.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jun asks as he leads you towards the kitchen, where some food and snacks were sprawled across the counter. “There’s water, soda, and um… some alcohol too.”

Your eyes roam over the assortment on the counter, gaze lingering on the bottles of alcohol. For some reason the idea of relaxing and letting loose feels particularly appealing tonight, and you can hardly remember the last time you had a proper drink of… anything. 

“I’ll take some alcohol,” You answer, suddenly feeling a bit adventurous; it even surprises Jun. 

Jun pulls one of the bottles and pours you a generous amount before handing it to you, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours as you find yourself settling down in a seat near Wonwoo and Jihoon. 

Soonyoung and Chan come into view a few minutes later, and they’re still looking at you as if you’ve come in with a second head.

“You’re not scary,” Chan claims randomly, scanning you up and down with his eyes closely.

You lift a brow and look behind you, thinking he was talking to someone, before turning back to him. 

“Me?” You point to yourself. “Scary?” 

Soonyoung takes a sip of his own drink before saying, “Yeah, dude, I mean… There used to be a lot of rumours spread about you being like, mean and stuff, you know? I’m talking about people saying you were super strict, always serious, and that if anyone messed up in class, you’d roast them alive.”

You almost want to laugh at that. Sure, you’ve heard plenty of those rumours before and never really let it get to you, or had the time to straight up dismiss them, but you didn’t think people were still clinging onto those thoughts nowadays. 

“Did you expect me to show up with devil horns and a pitchfork?" You joke, finally allowing yourself to laugh, shaking your cup in amusement. “Wow, I didn’t realise I was so terrifying. Maybe I should start living up to it now.”

Soonyoung lets out a hearty laugh, almost choking on his drink. “Please, no! We’re all just barely surviving as it is.”

“Nah, you’re good as you are. If anything I’m glad to see that the stuff people have said aren’t true,” Chan adds in.

An exaggerated gasp leaves Soonyoung. “Oh my, God, wait! Does this mean we’re friends now?” His excitement is so over-the-top that you can’t help but laugh too. 

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You tease with a faint smirk, shrugging. “If you behave.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Soonyoung declares, grinning ear to ear as Chan gives him an enthusiastic high five. His face is already turning the slightest bit of red from the alcohol. “Jun, you’re in good hands!”

In the kitchen, you catch Jun gazing over his shoulder and towards his friends. And when his eyes land on you, he shoots you a brief smile before quickly taking his eyes away, but the tips of his ears being red doesn’t go unnoticed when he turns away.

As the night continues, you find yourself letting loose, more than you’ve ever done recently. You find yourself easily getting along with the lively atmosphere of Jun and all of his friends. You don’t really know how many drinks you’ve taken at this point in time, how many refills you’ve been offered, but the buzz you feel is pleasant and warm, your inhibitions slowly but surely melting away. Laughter tumbles out of you as if it was the most natural thing in the world, almost to the point you feel your chest physically ache.

Occasionally, from the side, Jun quietly watches you. He can feel his own mood lifting with every smile that finds its way on your face. It’s almost as if he’s looking at a completely different person𑁋someone entirely the opposite from the studious TA he’s been used to this entire time.

But the second he sees you stumble slightly when you come out from a bathroom break, a pang of worry hits him.

“You okay?” he asks you when you nearly run into him, making him circle his arms around you out of habit in case you might fall. However, you���re somehow so close to him that he can feel the warmth of you through his clothes. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re grinning lazily up at him, the effects of the alcohol clearly taking their toll.

“Oh, doing lovely, um…” You assure him, voice wobbly as you clear your throat. “The alcohol was awesome. I haven’t… I haven’t drank like this in such a long time. It feels sooooo nice.” 

You nearly stumble into him again as you attempt to move past him, and he’s quick as the Flash to grab you by the shoulders, his hands squeezing tightly around your forearm. 

“I think you should sit down, Y/N.” 

“Bu-But I don’t want to!” 

A playful pout spreads across your face as he carefully leads you back to the quiet kitchen, away from whatever version of charades the others have put on in the middle of the living room.

“You’ve drank too much,” Jun points out worriedly. “Do you want me to take you home? I can walk𑁋”

“What are you? My… my boss or something? I’m supposed to be the one in control here! I’m… I’m the one making the decisions, not you!” You protest, a weak, half-hearted attempt at establishing your authority as you knead the fabric of his shirt into your fists. 

Did you have to be so cute when you’re drunk? Though Jun is fast to shake those thoughts away and focus more on making sure you’re okay, having to bite the bottom of his lip to conceal an incoming, endearing grin at your silly antics. 

“Come on, let me get you some water and then I’ll take you home, okay?” Jun offers, and you give him a tight-lipped smile. 

“But I am home,” You slur lowly, circling a finger in front of his face, close enough you may jab him in the eye. “I’m home here… with you…”

Jun seriously doesn’t know how he would be able to dismiss those words that left your mouth, even in your inebriated state. It doesn’t help that you’re also looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, like the world is spinning and yet he’s the only one keeping you steady. 

“Let’s go. I’m taking you home,” Jun says as he snatches up a bottle of water and slowly coaxes you towards the door, not before announcing to his friends as well, who all seem too drunk to even care anyway.

The second the cool air meets your skin and the cold water flows down your throat, you seem a little more lucid, but not entirely. You still clung an arm around Jun’s own arm, which was hanging loosely and awkwardly to the side, your steps a bit uneven as you walk down the street together.

Jun holds his breath every time your body knocks into his side, afraid you might lose balance, but you somehow manage to stay upright𑁋barely. The warmth of your arm wrapped around his doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, Y/N𑁋”

“Shhhhh,” You suddenly hiss, making Jun shut his mouth. “You’re too loud.”

Jun hangs his head down in slight guilt. “Sorry.”

“Hmm, isokay,” You mutter, tightening a grip on his and nearly causing Jun himself to stumble. “You know, you’re always so… nice. It’s kinda weird.” 

Jun tilts his head, somewhat confused by your drunken logic. He glances at you, catching the way your cheeks are shaded with a rosy hue and the warmness to your hazy eyes. 

“Weird?” he repeats curiously.

“Yeah…” You draw out the word clumsily, shifting your eyes towards him, gaze lingering on him a little longer than usual. “It’s like you’re not real sometimes.”

“You’re holding onto me.” Jun shakes his arm, and you still carry a tight grip on his arm, fingers digging lightly into the material of his sleeve. “I think I’m very real.”

“I know,” You mumble, scrunching your nose endearingly, as if you still don't believe him. “But you barely know me.” 

There’s a few moments of contemplation that passes by between the two of you. Your steps have somehow managed to sync with each other, the streetlights above casting down a soft glow on the pavement below, and the quiet night feels oddly… intimate. 

“Maybe.” Jun shrugs, voice low and soft. “But I like what I know so far.” 

Now it’s your turn to grow silent, a wave of realisation cutting through your inebriated thoughts. Your grip goes from loose to tight on Jun’s arm, your chest and heart feeling heavier than it did moments ago, and it certainly was not because of the alcohol.

Your mind is practically aching with all these thoughts, aching with the urge to do something about it, and the way Jun’s side profile is illuminated under the streetlight doesn’t help the situation at all.

“It’s funny, because I… I would see you come into class. And…” You let out a giggle. “I don’t know. My first thought was always that you were cute. Hmm, maybe dreamy too? Yeah, dreamy… That’s a silly word.” 

Before Jun can say anything to that, the words seem to tumble out of you. 

“...I’d see you fall asleep in the back of the class, or come late to lecture, and I’d think you were cute seeing you so panicked… And when you asked me to tutor you, I was so happy. It’s just𑁋I-I don’t know.” A brief pause, before you continue, “Is this what liking someone is?” 

Jun doesn’t notice how much his steps have faltered, his voice and own words getting caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. There’s a mix of panic, disbelief, and excitement flowing through him, almost too much he can’t quite process going from emotion to the other. However, how the hell does he respond when the person he’s been developing feelings for says something like that so openly?

“Shit, I’ve… I’ve made this weird, haven’t I?” You give yourself a light facepalm, before carding a hand through your hair. A yawn starts to leave you. “I’m just all over the place right now, I’m sorry…”

Jun wants to say something, needs to say something, but he stumbles over his words. “I… Y/N, I𑁋”

Before he can finish his sentence, you trip slightly, and he instinctively pulls you closer, catching you with both hands. A wholehearted round of laughter tumbles out of you, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, and for a split second, everything feels still. His heart races faster than ever.

He lets you take the lead on the way back to your apartment complex, feeling as if he had been walking on eggshells the entire time. The buzz of the alcohol running its laps through you has seemed to soften, and if anything, you’re more than ready to sink into your bed for the night. Although there’s comfortable quietness in the air now, Jun can’t stop replaying all the words you’ve said to him tonight alone.

Before he can fully process everything, you come to an abrupt stop just outside your building, turning to look at him.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his face as if you’re trying to commit everything to memory. Then, without thinking, you step up to him and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, fleeting, the gesture so unexpected it sends a rush of heat flooding up his neck and straight to the tips of his ears. He’s practically on fire, at this point. 

When you pull back, there’s a bashful smile playing at your lips. “Goodnight, Jun.”

You don’t think you can ever look at Jun in the eyes without wanting to sink into the ground, because each time he comes into view, it reminds you of the absolute idiot you put on show for him last weekend. It’s harder to pay attention when your hands seem to touch every given opportunity. You just have to make it through one last tutoring session before the big dissections later that week.

“So, um, we’ll use the forceps to clamp and separate through the tissues,” Jun explains, pointing towards the dissection guide displayed on the table, still feeling a tad bit queasy at the thought of it, even if the dissection pan was empty. “Then the scalpel will be used to cut on the incision lines we marked.”

“That’s right. You got it,” You say with a small smile, briefly casting a glance towards him, watching the way he adjusts the goggles on his face. 

The two of you decided on running through the dissection for practice, focusing instead on the procedural steps and techniques. It’s been smooth-sailing so far𑁋Jun looks more confident and comfortable as he walks through each step𑁋and you’re positive that the actual lab will go well.

On the other hand, you both can’t deny the awkwardness thickening through the room, drifting within the crevices of even the most subtle interactions. 

“Alright, so once we’ve done that, we’ll… uh, we’ll…” Jun’s voice trails off as he fumbles slightly with the scalpel, trying to decide between placing it on the tray or handing it to you, his gloved fingers brushing against yours again as you grab it from him.

“Sorry,” You both blurt out at the same time, voices mixing into one.

As you both share an embarrassed laugh, a few moments of silence follows. It seems to dissipate the tension in the air. Some of it, at least.

Jun clears his throat. “Y/N, I𑁋”

“It’s fine,” You assure calmly. “Let’s just keep going.” 

“I… Okay.” His shoulders slump in a pit of defeat as he fixes his attention back down towards the task at hand. “Can you, uh… pass me the probe?”

You nod and hand it over to him, trying to attentively listen as he explains the function of the tool and how it would be used for the lab, adding any feedback along the way. You’re surprised at how easily you fall back into a comfortable rhythm, as if the moments from earlier had ceased to exist, as if that night and your stupidity didn’t happen, but only you both know about the unacknowledged elephant in the room.

The rest of the practice goes by without any more mishaps. The next thing you know, you’re pulling off your gloves and taking off your safety goggles as Jun sets the dissection tray away. By the time he returns, he’s surprised to see you already grabbing your belongings like you’re ready to leave.

Jun swallows down the nervous lump lodged in his throat. “Y/N, wait.”

You pause in the middle of stuffing some notebooks inside your backpack, already feeling the apprehension snaking up your spine as you face him.

“Can… Can we talk?” Jun asks hesitantly.

A sigh leaves you. “Look, that was really dumb of me, I get it. I shouldn’t have… kissed you on the cheek like that and said all those weird things. It was impulsive and I was drunk. I’m sorry, I should’ve known my limits, or maybe just have not come at all𑁋”

“I was really happy that you came,” Jun interrupts, a voice almost too loud in the quiet, empty lab room. He rubs his gloved hands together nervously. “And, um, the kiss... I liked it. It was, well… kind of nice.”

You really can’t tell if his words are making you feel any better or worse, if the hesitation on his side makes you want to sink more into the ground or feel a bit of hope. Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the warmth growing in your face as your fingers tighten around the strap of your backpack. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you too, and I wanted to finally tell you that before you left my place. But then things got a little messy and it was a bit overwhelming, so I wanted to take you home because you looked like you were about to𑁋”

“Jun, just…” You chime in ruefully, clearly not wanting to relive your stupidity. “Go back a little. You like me too?”

Jun takes in a deep, slow breath.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I said that.” 

The laughs that leave you two sound more freeing in a way, more effortless, like the thick, heavy fog that settled around the room has been lifted, and for the first time in days, everything is more clearer. 

The carefree grin that Jun catches to your features nearly forces him to step up towards you, but he holds back. Instead, he thinks the sight of you looking so naturally happy is something he could cherish for a very, very long time.

“So, uh…” he starts, shooting a sheepish glance down at his shoes before meeting your gaze once more. “We’re okay?”

You only nod.

“We’re okay,” You confirm softly. “Maybe more than that.” 

As you finish getting ready to leave, you turn back to Jun, who nearly drops the dissection pan in his hands. 

“I have a meeting to go to right now,” You tell him. “But afterwards, I could… text you?” 

His face brightens expectantly, attempting to keep the excitement coursing through him at bay.  “Yeah, yeah, of course. Um… have a good meeting.” 

He’s cute. And silly. And weird. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Before you finally leave the lab room, you take a leap of faith and turn back around, heading straight towards Jun. He’s in the middle of taking off his goggles when you find yourself standing back in front of him, and a mischievous grin etches across your face. Jun takes a few steps back, his ass nearly stumbling into the table behind him.

“One more thing.” You reach up and to gently tug the goggles off his face, and the contact of your fingers to his hair has Jun bracing himself for doomsday. Your breath fans against his skin for a moment, and when you pull away, you’re holding up the goggles towards him. “You were wearing these upside down the entire time.”

Jun chokes on air, and you let out a giggle.

Shit.

Jun cannot focus right now.

The goggles feel uncomfortable on his face, the gloves make his skin feel clammy, the uncomfortable, pungent smell of formaldehyde fills the lab room and his nostrils. Not to mention that there’s a goddamn sheep brain sitting on the metal pan in front of him. 

Perhaps he can call it quits now𑁋take the zero for the lab and run for the hills, drop out of university, become a nomad in the countryside and never have to touch any sort of assignment again. In his mind right before the dissection starts, it really doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all…

“Jun?”

He snaps his eyes back at you. You’re wearing your own pair of gloves and goggles, positioning the dissection tools on the table, eyebrows raised in worry. 

“Are you good? We’re about to start,” You tell him. “You look a little pale.”

He blinks a few times, trying to compose and mentally ready himself, acting like he hasn’t just spent the last few minutes imagining an escape plan abandoning all forms of education. “Yeah, I… I’m good.”

“You good to start?” You ask, and the concern he senses in your voice makes his heart soften. “Or do you want me to take over first?’ 

There’s that offer again, the one he knows he should probably accept for the sake of his sanity, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t want to back out now. Not when he’s finally managed to clear the air between the two of you, when things are more comfortable than they’ve been in weeks. 

Jun exhales, shaking the tenseness out of his body. This is it. Glancing around the room, he notices that other students have already started their dissections with ease. He looks down at the sheep brain again, feeling that queasiness rising, but just your presence right next to him seems to settle down his nerves way more than it should.

He steels himself, trying to cling to that feeling instead of the growing discomfort in his stomach. He can do this. It’s just a brain. A sheep brain, he reminds himself, as if that makes it any better.

Letting out one last breath for good measure, he reaches for the scalpel. 

“I’m good,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Let’s do this.” 

His hand quivers as he leans in towards the sheep brain, its colour slightly pinkish and grey. His nose crinkles the closer he gets to it, and the second he lightly grazes the scalpel along the surface of the brain, he can’t help but wince. At his side, he feels your shoulder make contact with his, and helps ground him a little more. 

Narrowing his eyes, he focuses on making a precise incision straight down the middle of the brain𑁋the medial longitudinal fissure, he recalls𑁋his hand trembling slightly as he draws the scalpel down. The smell of formaldehyde grows stronger as he slices through the tissue, and the somewhat gelatinous texture that the brain has is incredibly off-putting. 

When he finally finishes, you help part the brain in half, and Jun’s eyes widen in awe at how visible the structures are. 

“You did pretty well.” You send an encouraging smile Jun’s way, taking the probe in your hand and motioning towards the exposed structures. “See? Look at that. You can see all the parts clearly.”

Jun takes a leap of faith and points to a particular part. “That’s… the thalamus there, right? And the hypothalamus is right below it.” 

You nod proudly. “You got it. And this section right here?”

“The… pons? And then, uh… Oh! The medulla oblongata. Then the spinal cord starts beneath it.”

“Yep. Here?”

“The cerebellum!” 

Your own heart seems to swell with every step up his confidence goes, whatever discomfort he was initially feeling begins to be melted away under the warmth of your praise. You bring your eyes up from the brain, letting it roam over his side profile, taking in the way the goggles make his hair stick out in odd angles, the curve of his jaw as he tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in concentration.

As Jun pinpoints another structure on the brain, he faces toward you for confirmation, only to be met with your eyes already on him. He opens his mouth to say something, before slowly shutting it, and for a split second, he forgets about the question he was about to ask, the lab, everything else.

“Did I get it right?” Jun questions, feeling the confidence flowing through him falter under your thoughtful expression. “This is the sulcus? And the gyrus…”

You lower your attention back down to the sheep brain, realising he was pointing to a spot with the probe. 

“Hm, just…” You start, leaning in a bit closer to examine where he’s pointing to. With a sly smirk, you reach over to grasp his wrist lightly, slowly guiding his hand more accurately with the probe. Your warmth slips teasingly under his skin. “The sulcus is the little groove right here, and the gyrus is the ridge surrounding it. See it?”

Jun swears you’re doing this on purpose, and whatever it is, it’s working.

“Got it,” he mumbles, hoping you won’t be able to see the flush to his cheeks under the goggles. His eyes flicker between the brain and your face, noting the playful glint in your pupils that certainly isn’t from the fluorescent lighting of the lab room. “I see it now. Thanks.”

You let go of his wrist, still wearing that mischievous look at your lips, though it fades into something more genuine now. “You’re doing good, you know.”

Relief hits him from your words. He does feel way more comfortable, the entire lab becoming less daunting all because you were simply right here next to him. His mind momentarily flashes back to all what you’ve done for him𑁋from the tutoring, to the way you’ve been nothing but supportive and patient with him, before it all circles back to the mutual fondness blooming its way within the crevices of your hearts together.

He likes you, and you like him back. Jun still has no idea how this came to be, because he used to think he had no such chance with you. Yet now, he has the freedom to think about where he wants to take you on your first date.

The rest of the dissection goes by with ease. Slowly but surely, other students begin to clean up their workspace and submit their lab reports to Professor Lee, their tasks winding down as the lab session comes to a close. The lab starts to empty out as the minutes tick by, and it isn’t long until there’s just a few more students left𑁋you and Jun included.

“Here, I’ll finish up here,” You tell him, taking the brain into your hands without hesitation and placing it into a sealed bag for disposal later on. Then you take the dissection tools into your hands and walk off towards the sink to wash them, leaving Jun hanging in a bit of a daze. 

“I… What can I do then?” he asks, wanting to contribute still.

You turn back to him, humming in contemplation. 

“Let’s see… Disinfect the table, take off your gloves and goggles, and then…” Your lips quirk up again. “Just stand there and look cute. I’ll handle the rest.” 

The tips of his ears flush with heat as you casually sidle away from him and towards the sink. Jun shakes away the flutters in his stomach, though the corners of his lips tugs upwards as he works on cleaning up the table. 

Jun is already waiting by the door with his backpack on his shoulders as you finish up some tasks with Professor Lee. Once you get the signal that you’re free to leave, Jun feels the excitement pool down to his feet, a sense of accomplishment knowing that he was able to get through the one lab he dreaded most, and finished the class with a passing grade.

As you both exit the building, Jun pauses in his place, watching you continue to walk a bit without him.

“I owe you a date, you know,” he calls out to you with determination, though a pinch of nervousness still lingers.

You turn back to him curiously, and the way the sun catches on your face makes you appear more radiant above anything else. “A date, you say?” 

“Yeah, I…” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Before all of this, I told you I would owe you something for helping me, and well…” He lets his shoulder relax. “I want to take you on a date.” 

Jun watches the way a bunch of emotions seem to morph among your face. Even with knowing how you feel for him, he still braces himself for a different kind of response. 

Biting at the bottom of your lip, you step back up to him, and before he could fully process what’s happening, you answer him with a quick, affectionate kiss to his cheek. Right at the corner of his lips, to be specific. Then you reach down and grip his wrist, tugging him gently towards you.

“You’re on,” You challenge, a playful sparkle to your eyes. “Let’s get going.”

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[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frayed | Theodore Nott ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smoking, not proofread, characters are 18+, toxicity, violence

Summary: Anst/Fluff | Theo is trapped in a toxic relationship until a breaking point ignites a bond long overdue.

Word count: 6974

author's note: I wrote this after a dream I had the other night. My dreams have been so wild lately.

Sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, you tried to focus on your breakfast, though your eyes kept drifting to the scene unfolding across from you. Theodore was there, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, with his girlfriend firmly planted on his lap, practically wrapped around him. She was all over him, laughing too loud and tossing her hair as if her every move needed an audience.

You felt the familiar pang of irritation as she cut into yet another conversation Theo had been trying to have with Blaise. She leaned in, whispering something into his ear while casting a territorial glance at the others as if daring anyone to interrupt. Theo’s posture was painfully awkward, his shoulders tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate. He gave a few non-committal nods, visibly uncomfortable but too withdrawn to say anything about it. That spark of easygoing confidence you’d always known him for was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach twisted. This was the same Theo who used to laugh with you at the silliest things, who’d always save a seat beside you at breakfast and swap notes with you during potions. Now, it was like he’d become a stranger. He barely spoke to you anymore, all because his girlfriend had made it clear she didn’t want you, or any other girl, around him.

Across the table, Pansy caught your eye, a look of pure annoyance mirrored on her face. She rolled her eyes, tilting her head toward Theo in silent solidarity. You returned a tight smile, but your grip on your fork tightened. You hated watching this happen—watching Theo become a ghost of himself, isolated even while surrounded by friends.

Just then, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours. A flicker of something softened his features for a brief moment—a hint of the Theo you knew was still there, just beneath the surface. But before either of you could acknowledge it, his girlfriend’s hand was on his jaw, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment was gone.

Blaise’s expression turned sour as he glared at Theo’s girlfriend, his jaw clenching in visible frustration. She had interrupted their conversation just as he’d been getting to the important part, and from the look on his face, he was done holding back his irritation.

He leaned over to Draco, muttering low enough for only him to hear. "How many times has she done this now? Theo might as well be in Azkaban with the way she’s got him trapped."

Draco gave a dry, humourless chuckle, casting a sidelong glance at Theo, who was looking down at his lap, his girlfriend chattering away like nothing was amiss. "It’s getting ridiculous." Draco replied in a whisper. "She won’t let him breathe. Remember last week’s boys’ night? He couldn’t even stay an hour before she was dragging him off."

Blaise nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. "She’s poison,. he muttered. "And Theo just… lets her. Doesn’t even fight it."

They exchanged a look filled with shared frustration, helpless to watch their friend slowly shrinking under the weight of a relationship that seemed to drain the life out of him. Their annoyance was only half-hidden, and you could see the resentment simmering in both of them, like the beginning of a storm.

Mattheo leaned in, his tone dripping with annoyance as he joined Blaise and Draco’s quiet complaints. "You know what gets me? She just has to be there every single time. Boys’ nights, Quidditch practices—even when we’re just hanging out talking about girls. She practically makes Theo sit in silence while she listens in, like we’re some kind of circus act performing just for her."

Blaise snorted, a bitter edge in his laugh. "It’s maddening. We can’t even relax around him anymore without her hanging on his every move, demanding all his attention like it’s some kind of test."

Draco gave a small, wry nod. "And Merlin forbid we talk about anything she doesn’t approve of. It’s like she’s scared we’re going to lead Theo astray if she’s not there to monitor every conversation."

Mattheo rolled his eyes, casting a glance at Theo, who was currently enduring his girlfriend’s over-the-top attention, looking exhausted and defeated. "She’s sucked all the life out of him." Mattheo muttered, shaking his head. "He doesn’t joke around with us anymore, doesn’t even talk about anything unless she’s ‘approved’ the conversation first."

You could hear the exasperation in Mattheo’s voice, echoing everything you felt yourself. They were right; it was like Theo was a shell of his former self, bound to her by nothing more than her relentless possessiveness. The boys’ irritation was boiling over, their whispers growing just loud enough that you feared she might hear. But they didn’t seem to care anymore.

You did, though, and shot them a pleading look to try and keep the peace. Tensions were already stretched thin, and if something snapped now, you worried it would be impossible to fix. You only hoped Theo could see through it all before everything went too far.

As you glanced over at Theo, the change in him was painfully clear. He looked smaller, somehow. The easy smile he used to flash during breakfast was gone, replaced with a weary, distracted look. He’d gone from being the witty, lively one in your group to barely speaking, keeping his eyes cast down, his shoulders perpetually slumped. It was like watching a light slowly dim.

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your own frustration from showing. It had become your role, somehow, to hold things together—to keep the peace. If Theo noticed the tension brewing among his friends, he said nothing, perhaps too worn down to add another battle to his day. But with every passing moment, it felt like something had to give.

Yet here you all were, trapped in the stalemate of your seventh year, a tense silence settling over the table as his girlfriend continued to laugh, completely oblivious to the waves of irritation rolling off everyone around her.

Pansy moved seats, sliding onto the bench beside you, her expression a mix of frustration and worry as she leaned in, her voice just a whisper. "Caught him smoking again." she murmured, glancing sideways to make sure Theo’s girlfriend wasn’t listening. "Poor guy’s practically hiding in the shadows just to get a moment to himself."

You sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. It had become all too familiar—Theo sneaking off more frequently, finding solitary corners of the castle to light a cigarette in peace. He’d always been a social smoker, only indulging on rare occasions or during particularly stressful times. But lately, you’d noticed the lingering scent of smoke around him more often, his fingers sometimes stained with ash from hasty, hidden smokes.

"He’s getting worse, isn’t he?" you murmured back, glancing at Theo. He looked pale and worn, a shadow of the friend you’d known since first year. And the worst part? The very person causing his stress was also the one berating him for it.

Pansy nodded, her gaze softening as she watched Theo from across the table. "It’s like a vicious cycle. She’s the reason he’s turning to it, yet she’s the one who’ll tear him apart if she catches him again."

Your heart ached for him, watching the way he seemed to fade a little more every day. He’d once been the friend you could laugh with about anything, the one who always had a clever quip ready or some sarcastic remark that would have everyone cracking up. Now he barely laughed, barely even smiled, constantly stuck in a web of someone else’s making.

As everyone started getting up to head to class, Draco leaned over toward Theo, his voice casual but with a note of genuine invitation. "Oi, Theo, you up for hanging out before the party?"

Theo’s face lit up, a glimpse of his old self emerging as he looked up and started to nod. "Yeah, I—"

But before he could finish, his girlfriend’s hand was already on his arm, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Draco. “Actually, we have plans. So, you can move along, Draco.” she cut in, her tone laced with barely hidden disdain.

The room seemed to hold its breath, Draco’s jaw tightening as he held her gaze. He was clearly trying to keep his temper in check, but his patience was hanging by a thread. With an exasperated sigh, he shot Theo a look that spoke volumes—both an apology and a warning—before reluctantly turning back and leaving the Grand Hall with the group.

Theo slumped back, his expression defeated, all the excitement drained out of him in an instant. He didn’t even bother to argue. You could see the exhaustion etched into his face as he sank lower in his chair, as though he’d expected this outcome all along.

As you walked to D.A.D.A class, you caught Draco’s eye, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, his own frustration mirroring your own. There was a tension in the air that was impossible to ignore, and it was only a matter of time before something would break.

~~~

The usual Friday night Slytherin party was in full swing, the common room lit with a warm, flickering glow as laughter and conversation filled the air. You were all seated in your usual spots on the couches, drinks in hand, enjoying the rare moment of camaraderie that Fridays always promised.

For a while, things felt normal again—comfortable, even. But then, of course, Theo’s girlfriend wedged herself into the group, shifting the entire energy of the evening. The lively conversation dulled as she took over, barely concealing her disdain as she joined in. You could feel the collective irritation settle in, an unspoken understanding among friends that her presence was, as always, unwelcome.

It wasn’t as if the group had a problem with partners joining them; quite the opposite. Each of them had dated at some point, and their significant others were always welcomed with open arms. There was a quiet understanding that relationships brought new energy into their tight-knit circle, and everyone usually made an effort to include them. Some of the best nights had been spent with the laughter of new faces blending seamlessly with their own, adding stories and jokes to the mix without disrupting the balance.

But this girl was different.

She was the first one who seemed determined to force herself in, to overshadow conversations and steal away Theo whenever it suited her. There was no laughter, no blending of energy—just her cutting remarks and possessive glances, her presence casting a shadow over their usual ease. No one could relax when she was around, knowing that any moment of fun or camaraderie could be snuffed out by her biting comments.

It was as if she thrived on control, slipping her influence over Theo like a chain, pulling him away piece by piece from the friends he’d known for years. The group had tried, at first, to welcome her in, to treat her like they would anyone else. But it became painfully clear over time that she wasn’t interested in being part of their lives; she was only interested in controlling Theo’s.

As you looked around at your friends, each of them casting uneasy glances her way, it was obvious that everyone felt it. The tension that lingered whenever she was near, the way the entire room seemed to lose its warmth when she entered. She wasn’t just an outsider. She was the first partner to truly ruin things for them.

Mattheo, who had been rudely interrupted tonight, had less patience than the rest of you. He was midway through a particularly animated story about his latest near-miss with Professor Snape when she interrupted, rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. Mattheo glared at her, barely holding back his annoyance. "Do you mind? Some of us actually want to hear my story."

She scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning back with an air of superiority. "Oh, please. Nobody cares about your stupid stories, Riddle."

A tense silence settled over the group, but Pansy wasted no time in stepping in, her tone sharp. "Actually, everyone but you cares. Maybe if you didn’t make it your mission to ruin every conversation, you’d know that."

Theo shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his girlfriend as if he wanted to step in but was too tired to argue. Meanwhile, you could see the smirk forming on Mattheo’s face, his gaze locked onto her with barely contained satisfaction.

"Yeah." Mattheo added, raising his drink in mock salute. "Cheers to that, Pans. At least some of us know how to have a good time."

His girlfriend flushed, anger flashing in her eyes, but she stayed silent, perhaps finally realizing that the rest of the group had no intention of backing down. It was a rare victory, but it didn’t feel as sweet as it should have—not when Theo was sitting there, staring down at his drink, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Draco let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back on the couch, grumbling just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Well, that’s one way to ruin a perfectly good night."

The comment was sharper than usual, carrying the unmistakable weight of weeks—months, even—of suppressed irritation. He didn’t bother to look at Theo’s girlfriend, who was already glaring daggers at him, her face reddening as her patience finally snapped.

Turning on Theo, she crossed her arms, her voice icy and accusing. "Are you really just going to sit there and let them disrespect me like this? Unbelievable." She looked around the room as if daring someone to disagree, but no one moved or spoke. It was clear where everyone’s loyalties lay, and that only seemed to inflame her further.

Theo’s shoulders slumped, his expression somewhere between exhaustion and quiet resignation. He opened his mouth, as if to offer a half-hearted defence, but no words came. The effort it would take to argue—yet again—was too much for him tonight.

With a huff, she whipped around, storming away from the couches, her heels clicking loudly against the stone floor as she disappeared through the crowds in the common room.Her exit was followed by a heavy silence as everyone’s gaze shifted to Theo.

He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t been able to say. The group was quiet, each of you trying to process what had just happened, but it was obvious that no one wanted to break the silence. 

Theo ran a hand over his face, looking down at his drink, and muttered, "I… I’m sorry, everyone."

Blaise cleared his throat, attempting a small smile to break the tension. "It’s all good, mate." he said, giving Theo’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Honestly. No harm done." His tone was light, casual, like he was brushing it all off as if it hadn’t mattered at all. Blaise had always been the type to keep the peace when he could, trying to nudge things back toward their usual warmth.

But Mattheo’s face was another story, his jaw clenched tight as he glared at the door through which Theo’s girlfriend had just exited. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "I’m getting real tired of this." his voice laced with barely controlled anger. His gaze flicked to Theo, and for a second, it looked like he might say something else, but he bit back his words, stewing silently.

The group sat there in uneasy silence, the usual lively atmosphere muted, everyone nursing their own thoughts. Theo’s shoulders stayed slumped, and you could sense the regret and frustration rolling off him in waves.

Just as the quiet began to settle, Pansy’s entire body tensed beside you. Her gaze was fixed on the far side of the room, her eyes wide. Following Pansy’s wide-eyed stare, your gaze landed on the far side of the common room where Theo’s girlfriend had reappeared, but she wasn’t alone.

Your stomach dropped as you saw her pressed up against another student from your house, their faces close, her hands running through his hair as she leaned in, kissing him with a brazen, shameless fervour. She didn’t seem to care who might see them, her actions loud and clear as if she were making a statement for everyone in the room.

A stunned silence fell over the group, each of you frozen in shock and disbelief. Blaise’s hand slipped off Theo’s shoulder as his jaw tightened, his earlier attempt at easing the mood now rendered meaningless. Mattheo muttered something under his breath, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

But Theo—Theo just stared, his face going pale as he watched her with that other guy, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger, mingled with a strange, hollow acceptance. It was as if he’d suspected something like this all along, yet seeing it unfold was a wound far deeper than anything he could have anticipated.

The tension in the room had reached a breaking point, each of you waiting for someone to say or do something, the air thick with disbelief and fury.

Theo didn’t say a word as he got up, his face blank, and headed toward the exit. You could see the tremor in his hands as he reached into his pocket, likely going for a cigarette to calm his fraying nerves. Without a glance back, he slipped out the door, leaving a heavy tension in his wake.

The second he was gone, you felt something snap inside you. Your fists clenched, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, ignoring the surprised looks from your friends as you made a straight line across the room, heading directly toward her.

She was still laughing with the guy she’d been kissing, completely unbothered, until she caught sight of you storming toward her. Her eyes narrowed, a look of feigned innocence crossing her face as she crossed her arms, almost daring you to confront her.

“What’s your problem?” she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What’s my problem?” you spat, the words tumbling out like fire. “What’s your problem, throwing yourself at some random guy in front of everyone when Theo’s just… just sitting there?” You could barely contain the anger shaking through you. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Oh, please. Like it matters. Theo’s been a miserable bore for months. And who are you to talk to me about what I can or can’t do? Jealous, are we?”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you. “Jealous? No. I’m furious. Furious that you’ve taken someone who used to be happy and turned him into whatever you think he should be for your own ego.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“Oh, I know enough.” you shot back. “Enough to see you don’t care about him. He deserves better than to be treated like your possession, like some accessory you can throw away the second you get bored.”

The argument escalated, voices rising as the tension boiled over. Each accusation only fueled her anger, and she stepped closer, her voice venomous. “You think you’re so noble, don’t you? Acting like you know what’s best for him. Maybe he’s miserable because you all can’t let go of him.”

The room erupted as you snapped, the anger in you boiling over as you shot back, “You know what? You’re nothing but a manipulative bitch.” The words were barely out of your mouth before her face twisted with rage, and without warning, she shoved you hard, almost knocking you backward.

That was it.

Without a second thought, you lunged forward, colliding with her as the two of you stumbled, grabbing at each other in a flurry of fury. The next moments were a blur of shouts, hands, and the sharp sting of pulled hair and clawing nails as you both fought, neither one willing to back down.

Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Pansy were on you in seconds, surrounding the chaos, but looking caught between trying to pull you apart and staying out of the way. Blaise’s eyes widened, flicking between you and the girl as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Draco stepped forward, arms out, calling your name, but the intensity of the fight kept him at bay.

“Bloody hell!” Mattheo shouted, looking between you and Draco, unsure whether to jump in or let you have it out. “Someone pull them off each other!”

Pansy, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. She moved in closer, her voice sharp and commanding as she tried to grab your arm. “Enough! You’re going to get us all into trouble—stop!”

But the damned bitch was relentless, snarling as she tried to push you away, her eyes alight with rage. “Stay out of our business, you’re nothing to him! Just some desperate hanger-on!”

Fueled by her words, you managed to break free from Pansy’s grasp for a moment, lunging again, but this time, Draco and Mattheo grabbed you by the shoulders, dragging you back as Pansy stepped in between, raising her voice. “Stop it, both of you!”

The door creaked open, and Theo appeared in the doorway, cigarette in hand, eyes wide as he took in the scene unfolding before him. The shock on his face was unmistakable as he realized what had happened, confusion turning to something darker as he looked between you and his girlfriend, who was now dishevelled, panting, and glaring at you with venom in her eyes.

You stood there, chest heaving, adrenaline still surging through you as you tried to regain control. The room was dead silent, everyone too stunned to move, but your gaze was locked on her—bruised, bloodied and dishevelled, glaring up at you with a twisted smirk on her face.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “The only reason why Theo even stays close to you is because he pities you… and your pathetic dead parents.”

The words struck a nerve deep within, unleashing a storm of anger that washed over you like a tidal wave. Before you knew it, you’d pulled out your wand, rage blinding you, the incantation forming on your lips as the words seethed out, “Cruc—”

But before you could finish, a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the curse in an instant. Theo had rushed behind you, his grip firm yet desperate, his wide eyes filled with panic, fear, and something else—something pleading.

“Enough.” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. His hand stayed pressed over your mouth, holding you back, while his other hand gently grasped your wrist, lowering your wand.

You blinked, the anger slowly dissolving into a mess of emotions, the weight of what you’d nearly done settling over you. Theo didn’t move, keeping his steady hold on you.Theo glanced around at the group, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, and protectiveness. Without another word, he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle, and led you out of the common room, past the stunned silence of your friends. Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Pansy watched, exchanging concerned looks but staying silent, knowing this was something only Theo could handle.

He guided you through the dimly lit corridor, never loosening his hold on your hand as he made his way to his dorm room. You followed in a daze, your heart still pounding as the adrenaline began to ebb, replaced by a confusing whirl of emotions—anger, shame, relief, all tangled up together.

Once you were inside his dormitory, he shut the door behind you both, locking it with a quick flick of his wand. The room was quiet, a soft glow from the lamps casting a warm light over his belongings, the familiar scent of his cologne faintly lingering in the air. Theo turned to face you, his hand still holding yours as he took a deep breath, his expression softened, though his eyes remained filled with a quiet intensity.

“You… you almost used Crucio.” he murmured, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you, as he searched your face, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

You looked down, feeling a wave of guilt rise up, the weight of what you’d nearly done settling heavily on your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… she went too far. She’s hurt you way too much, Theo.”

Theo exhaled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, and took a step closer, his gaze softening further. “I know.” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while now. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

He let go of your hand only to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek, grounding you, as he whispered, “But you… you can’t let her make you into something you’re not.”

~~~

Theo never officially ended things with his girlfriend. There was no formal breakup, no final argument, but it didn’t matter—everyone could see that it was over. She didn’t come around anymore, didn’t dare try to force her way back into the friend group after the scene you’d caused. The bruises you’d left had faded, but the message had been loud and clear, and it seemed she’d finally accepted it.

You’d earned yourself a month of detention for the fight, and though the professors had given you disappointed looks and stern lectures, none of it fazed you. You took the punishment with a sense of pride, wearing it like a badge of honour. If you had to do it all over again, you would. Theo’s well-being, his freedom, had been worth every second spent scrubbing cauldrons and rewriting parchments under Filch’s glare. You weren’t ashamed for putting her in her place; she’d deserved it and more.

The only lingering regret was that split-second decision to pull your wand, to nearly utter the curse that could have changed everything. That was the one thing that weighed on you, the reminder that, in your anger, you’d almost let her bring out the darkest part of yourself. But Theo had stopped you, pulled you back from the edge. And in the quiet moments of your detentions, it was that thought that lingered, his hand on yours, his voice steadying you when you’d needed it most.

Since then, Theo had been… different. Freer, lighter, as though the weight he’d been carrying had finally lifted. He didn’t say much about what had happened, but he was around you constantly, seeking you out, sitting beside you in classes and at meals, sharing quiet moments without needing to speak.

He never said it directly, but in the way he looked at you, the way he stayed close, it was clear. You’d been there for him when he’d needed it most, and he wasn’t about to forget it.

As the weeks passed, the group’s dynamic began to shift back to normal, the heaviness that had hung over everything finally starting to lift. The familiar laughter and banter returned, the camaraderie that had once been the foundation of your friendship rekindled. It felt like everyone could breathe again, like the unspoken tension had finally evaporated, taking with it the gloom of Theo’s toxic relationship.

The others hadn’t let you off easily, though. Ever since that night, they’d given you a new nickname, a playful jab that seemed to stick—“The Hitman.” Whenever you entered a room, Mattheo or Blaise would grin and say something like, “Look out, the Hitman’s here. Better watch what we say.” Draco would give you a mock salute, pretending to be wary of your next move, and Pansy would pat you on the shoulder, shaking her head with a smile and muttering, “Our very own bodyguard.”

They teased you relentlessly, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it filled you with a quiet pride. You’d earned it, and knowing they’d all be just as protective over you, had the situation been reversed, only strengthened the bond between you all.

Theo, meanwhile, seemed to have thrown himself back into Quidditch with renewed energy. Every practice was more intense, every play sharper. He channelled all his frustration, all the months of suppressed anger, into the pitch, his focus like a laser. Theo was back to being the friend you remembered—driven, concentrated, locked in on his own priorities, and finally unburdened. Watching him fly across the field with that fierce determination, you knew he was ready to leave the past behind.

And as he trained, you couldn’t help but notice the small glances he’d send your way after a particularly successful practice. When he’d make an impressive play, his gaze would drift toward the stands, where he knew you were watching, his grin just a bit wider when he caught your eye. It was as if he was finally himself again—fierce, focused, and free.

~~~

The final match of the season had the entire school buzzing, and you and Pansy stood shoulder to shoulder in the stands, bundled against the brisk wind, your hearts pounding with excitement. The atmosphere was electric, green and silver flags waving wildly in the air, cheers rising like waves as the players took their positions on the field. The Slytherin team was locked in, each player’s gaze fierce, and at the centre of it all was Theo—focused, determined, every bit the player you’d always believed he could be.

From the first whistle, the match was intense, a flurry of movement as players darted back and forth, Quaffles flying, Bludgers smashing through the air. Every play had you and Pansy gasping or shouting, barely able to stay still as the score climbed steadily, each team battling for dominance. Gryffindor’s Chasers were relentless, pressing the Slytherin defence with an intensity that sent chills through the stands.

As Gryffindor advanced toward the goal, weaving past Slytherin players with almost frightening speed, your heart raced. Theo was there, hovering near the posts, watching, waiting. The Gryffindor Chaser drew closer, feinting left before taking a sharp turn to the right, raising his arm to shoot. You held your breath, fingers digging into the railing as the Quaffle hurtled toward the left hoop, aimed with deadly precision.

But Theo was faster. With a sudden, powerful lunge, he darted across the goal, stretching his arm out just in time to deflect the Quaffle. The impact echoed across the pitch, and for a split second, everything was still. Then, the Slytherin section of the stands erupted in cheers, and you and Pansy screamed, jumping up and down, adrenaline surging through you.

“Yes! Did you see that?” Pansy shrieked, grabbing your arm as she laughed in pure exhilaration. “He saved it! He actually saved it!”

Your eyes were locked on Theo, who was grinning, his face flushed with triumph as he exchanged a brief look with Draco, who had already positioned himself higher above the pitch. The save had disrupted Gryffindor’s formation, and in the split second of chaos, Draco seized his chance, his eyes fixed on a flash of gold darting across the field.

“Go, Draco!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the crowd’s roar. Your hands were clenched, and Pansy was beside herself, both of you leaning so far over the railing that you might as well have been on brooms yourselves.

Draco was a blur as he sped after the Snitch, his eyes narrowed, his entire body angled forward with singular purpose. Gryffindor’s Seeker was close behind him, pushing hard to catch up, but Draco had the lead, his broom slicing through the air as he reached out, his fingers grazing the Snitch’s fluttering wings.

“Come on, come on…” Pansy muttered, clutching your arm as you both watched, barely daring to breathe.

With a final lunge, Draco’s hand closed around the Snitch, raising it triumphantly in the air. The crowd erupted, the Slytherin side a sea of celebration as students cheered, shouted, and hugged. You and Pansy screamed, the exhilaration almost overwhelming, watching as Theo and the other Slytherin players surrounded Draco, lifting him onto their shoulders, their faces bright with victory.

Before you knew it, the entire house was rushing down to the pitch, flooding onto the field in a wave of green and silver. You and Pansy exchanged a breathless look before joining the charge, weaving through the ecstatic crowd, eager to congratulate the team.

The players were already on the ground, grinning, shouting, their faces flushed with victory as they clapped each other on the back. Theo, Blaise, Mattheo, and Draco stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by the crowd, practically lifted off their feet by their housemates’ enthusiasm.

You and Pansy finally pushed through, laughing as you spotted Theo first, his hair messy and his cheeks pink, looking more alive than you’d ever seen him. Without a second thought, you wrapped him in a hug, feeling his arms come around you tightly, the two of you sharing a moment of pure celebration, all the weight of the past weeks forgotten in the euphoria.

“You were amazing, Theo!” you shouted over the noise, pulling back to meet his eyes. His grin was wide and genuine, the happiness in his expression infectious.

“Only because I had the best fans cheering me on.” he replied with a wink, his voice filled with excitement.

Pansy immediately pulled Draco into a hug, shouting something about how he’d almost given her a heart attack with that final dive for the Snitch. Draco laughed, hugging her back before turning to you, and you threw your arms around him, congratulating him on the catch.

One by one, you and Pansy made your way through the group, hugging each of the boys, feeling the thrill of victory in every laugh, every smile. Mattheo picked you up briefly, spinning you around before setting you down, both of you laughing as he ruffled your hair. Blaise gave you a quick hug, still beaming as he clapped Theo on the shoulder, their shared pride shining through.

The air buzzed with joy and triumph as the celebration continued on the field, the Slytherin house united in victory, the players and friends all caught up in the moment, letting the adrenaline and happiness wash over them. This was the kind of memory that would stay with you forever—the kind of joy that felt limitless, boundless, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

As the crowd began to move off the pitch, heading back to the Slytherin common room with laughter and celebration echoing through the night, you felt a gentle tug on your arm. Turning, you found Theo beside you, his hand lingering on your wrist as he subtly pulled you back from the group. His expression was warm, his eyes softened with something quieter than the exhilaration of the victory, and your heart skipped a beat as you slowed to match his pace.

The others drifted ahead, too wrapped up in their own excitement to notice the two of you hanging back. Theo glanced around, making sure no one was watching, before he looked at you with a faint smile.

“I wanted to thank you.” he said, his voice low, barely audible over the lingering noise of celebration. “For everything. Not just for tonight.”

You felt a warmth spread through you as he spoke, his words carrying a weight that went beyond the game, beyond the victory. It was about everything that had happened—the support, the fight, the loyalty you’d shown him through the toughest moments.

“You don’t have to thank me,. you replied softly, smiling up at him. “I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

Theo’s eyes held yours, something unspoken passing between you. Then, without another word, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and familiarity that felt like home. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away.

As he pulled back, his face close to yours, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest of seconds before he looked away, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he grinned, the moment of vulnerability passing as he nodded toward the path ahead.

For a brief second, a tense, awkward silence settled between you, each of you unsure of what to do, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the cool night air. You could feel your pulse racing, your heart hammering with the anticipation that had been building for what felt like ages.Theo cleared his throat, looking away for a moment as if to collect himself, but when he glanced back at you, his eyes lingered, conflicted yet intent. As if deciding all at once, he leaned in, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek, and before either of you could think twice, his lips brushed softly against yours.

The kiss was brief but electric, a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through you, leaving you breathless. But just as you began to process what was happening, he pulled back, his hand falling to his side as he looked down, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and guilt.

“I… I’m sorry.” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to—”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he seemed to be bracing himself for your reaction, almost ashamed. He looked ready to pull away, to distance himself again. You felt a surge of determination rise within you. You couldn’t let him pull away, not when the moment felt so right. As he started to step back, you reached out, your fingers brushing gently against his hand, grounding him before he could retreat.

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you, and kissed him—slowly, deeply, allowing the tension and emotions that had built up to flow freely. This time, there was no awkwardness, no hesitation, only the warmth of his lips against yours, the steady beat of his heart echoing through the touch.

Theo stilled for a moment, his surprise quickly melting into something softer, more certain, as he responded, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The world around you faded, the distant sounds of laughter and celebration from the common room dimming as you both gave in to the kiss, the barriers that had held you apart finally breaking down. The kiss deepened, a magnetic pull drawing you closer until the world outside that moment ceased to exist. Theo’s hands traced a path up your back, sending a warmth through you that made everything else fade. His lips moved with a gentleness, a passion that left you breathless, a release of everything the two of you had held back for so long.

Somehow, amid the intensity, his Quidditch shirt slipped off, discarded in the haze of your closeness. When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he paused, his eyes dark with a mixture of affection and amusement as he looked down at the shirt in his hands. Without a word, he lifted it, slipping it gently over your shoulders, letting the familiar, slightly worn fabric settle around you.

The warmth of his hands lingered as he adjusted the shirt on you, his gaze softening as he took in the sight. You looked down, cheeks blazing when you caught a glimpse of his toned chest, the result of years of Quidditch training, each muscle defined and yet somehow perfectly understated. His eyes sparkled as he noticed your blush, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on.” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached for your hand. He squeezed it, grounding you back to the moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. With a gentle tug, he pulled you back toward the Slytherin common room, the warmth of his presence steady beside you as the night’s quiet secrets lingered in the air around you.

As you and Theo stepped into the common room, the lively energy of the celebration settled into a curious, knowing silence. Every eye flicked between the two of you—his shirt draped around you, cheeks flushed, Theo’s hair slightly tousled. It didn’t take much for your friends to put the pieces together, but no one dared to say a word, their smiles a mix of amusement and silent approval.

Draco raised an eyebrow, shooting a smirk in Theo’s direction, while Mattheo gave you a subtle thumbs-up, as though finally, after everything, a balance had been restored. Blaise’s grin was unmistakable, though he kept his comments to himself for once, nodding at you in quiet acknowledgment.

Across the room, Pansy caught your eye, her own gaze softened with pride and understanding. She gave you a small, satisfied smile, as if she’d known this was inevitable all along. You returned her glance, feeling the warmth of friendship and relief wash over you, grounding you in the moment.

Without a word, Theo’s hand found yours again, squeezing it gently. In that simple touch, everything felt right, all the struggles and tension finally giving way to a peace you’d both waited so long for. You looked around, surrounded by friends who had stood by you both, and for the first time in months, everything felt exactly as it should be.

And as you settled down into the couch beside Theo, your fingers still intertwined, a quiet contentment settled over the room, the unspoken promise of new beginnings hanging in the air.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[dorabellingham]

La Liga

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you're celebrating the la liga trophy, but he's really drunk and keeps asking you to marry him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a party night at the stadium, and Real Madrid had just won the La Liga championship. The team, the fans, everyone was cheering, but no one seemed happier and more relaxed than Jude. He was completely overcome with euphoria, hugging everyone who passed by —players, journalists, staff, it didn't matter who it was, he just wanted to share his happiness.

With a bottle of whisky in one hand and the La Liga trophy in the other, Jude danced and sang as if the world was watching (and it was). His smile was so wide it seemed permanent, and his laugh was contagious. When the background music changed to a lively funk, he wasted no time in starting to dance, with exaggerated steps and movements with the clumsy and fun touch of someone who was clearly a few glasses too many. In the midst of all this joy, he suddenly spotted you, who were there backstage, waiting for the right moment to congratulate him. Jude's eyes shone even brighter when he saw you, and he practically dropped the trophy, walking towards you with a passionate smile.

—BABE!

He shouted from the other side of the field, running towards you and, in the middle of the path, almost tripping over his own legs.

Arriving at your side, he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong smell of whisky in the air. Without letting go of you, he began to speak, the words coming out in a slurred and exaggerated way.

—Y/n, you are... you are the most incredible woman in the world! —He declared, his hands cupping your face adoringly. —Marry me? Please! I love you, I'm crazy about you!

You laughed, trying to keep your composure in front of your clearly drunk husband and the cameras that recorded every second of that moment.

—Jude, we're already married!

You reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to hide your amused smile.

But that didn't seem to make a difference to him. Jude continued with the scene, his eyes shining and his tone of voice rising even higher.

—No, no, babe! I want to marry you again! I need to hear you say ‘yes’!

He pulled one of your hands and, on his knees, began to make a dramatic marriage proposal right there, in the middle of the field, while the reporters around filmed and laughed.

—Y/n, my love! Marry me again, will you? Please?

He begged, reaching out to you, as if it were the first time.

You tried to contain your laughter, shaking your head in denial.

—Honey, no. Come on, get up. We’re already married!

You looked around, noticing that the reporters were absolutely amused by the situation, and gently patted his hand, trying to get him to stand up.

It was then that, to everyone’s shock and surprise, Bellingham, with the expression of a devastated man, began to cry. Yes, cry! He put one hand to his face, covering his eyes, and grabbed the microphone from a reporter standing next to him, his voice cracking.

—I WAS REJECTED! —He announced dramatically, as if he were on stage. —She doesn’t want to marry me! Everyone saw it… she doesn’t love me anymore! —He looked at the microphone and repeated it, so there would be no doubt. —Are you seeing this? My wife doesn’t want to marry me again!

The reporters tried to hide their laughter, some barely able to keep the cameras focused. You, in turn, had your hands on your face, laughing and in disbelief at the show your drunk husband was putting on. You bent down to him, trying to whisper:

—Jude, honey, everyone’s watching! Get up, go…

He ignored you completely, turning to the camera with a martyr’s expression.

—She doesn’t love me, guys. Here I am, winning La Liga, and my wife… rejects me.

He sighed theatrically as the camera focused on his face.

The crowd in the stands, who were already laughing and applauding the scene, began to scream, encouraging Jude. And he, of course, loved the encouragement, raising his fist in the air, as if he were ready to fight for that love right there.

You, still laughing, pulled him by the arm, finally managing to lift him up.

—Come on, you dramatic! Let's go home.

But he seemed unable to let the moment pass. Hugging you tightly, he lifted you in the air, spinning you around as he continued to speak towards the microphone he was still holding.

—I love this woman! She is everything to me. My wife... and the most beautiful of all!

The crowd applauded, and Jude, finally satisfied with the show he had put on, gave you a loud kiss on the cheek and finally handed the microphone back to the reporter, laughing at his own situation.

As they left the field, with his arms around her and his eyes shining, Jude whispered:

—But you’ll marry me again one day, right?

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

—We’re already married, love. Come on, let’s go home before you even ask the trophy to marry you.

[spxdyr]

im going to try to be nice because bucktommy's are going to inevitably see this and im not trying to start shit.

i'm seeing a lot of confused bucktommy's about the breakup. claiming it was a last minute decision, it was because lou didn't want to keep dealing with it (wtv that means), that it makes no since because of 8x05, and a lot of other spiraling bs.

i even saw someone say that buddie is never going to happen because oliver said eddie is straight...

i'm going to break this down as clearly as i can, because i've historically had issues with bt's and comprehension skills.

1. the bucktommy breakup was inevitable from the moment they got together. if for no other reason than tommy himself. from the beginning of their relationship, tommy has decided if buck was ready. not buck. tommy left buck standing on the side of the road aftet their first date because tommy decided he wasn't ready. because buck was nervous to come out to his best friend in public. tommy decided that buck would break his heart and that he wouldn't be buck's last. tommy came into that relationship assuming it would end. not buck, and not the audience. we were just picking up on what tommy was telling us. especially, given the fact that buck was fully ready and able to move past the abby clark of it all. tommy was a bad partner to buck, that's why they broke up.

2. i said this after 8x05, it wouldn't have made since to give us an on screen breakup if the only thing we saw of tommy was the thirty second birthday scene in 8x01. 9-1-1 loves a three ep arc and buck's side of whatever realization he might have started on 8x05. we needed to see more of tommy so it made sense when he broke up with buck. throughout all of 8x05, we saw the seeds of doubt being sowed in tommy. from the hospital scene after denny, to the closing one, tommy realized he didn't fit or at least wouldn't for long. because he never got that built-in family. he doesn't trust/believe that anyone would have his back like that. and he made that choice all on his own.

3. lfj is fine. he's a mulit-million dollar nepo baby. one whose been callled out for negative past behaviors and some people consider that bullying. lfj knew how long he was going to be on the show when he signed the contract to come back. the networks choice not to renew that contract had nothing to do with buddie stans. his storyline was over.

4. i can't even be confident that he's gone. there was a lot of stuff left unsaid or moved past too quickly. now 9-1-1 has a history of bad writing in that regard but they also have a habit of dropping things to only come back to them episodes or even seasons later. if he's really gone well thank god, but if he's not im not totally shocked.

5. i don't know how many times i have to say this. if eddie is gay or bi or demi or wtv, the cast wouldn't be able to say so because it would be a MAJOR spoiler. does no one remember andrew garfield and tom holland lying their asses off about spiderman ffh??? actors are liars, its like the whole bit. buck was straight until he wasn't. let's stop being dense and accept that maybe they aren't telling us everything because that would the defeat the purpose of the show.

look at this point im not just in this for buddie. im in this for an eddie that gets to be unapologetically himself. and im going to emphasize one more time how dangerous and disrespectful it is to force eddie back into the proverbial closet because it doesn't fit your ship.

[arc-misadventures]

Super Powers

Sun, Neptune, Jaune, and Ren, are hanging out, just chilling on a bench on the school grounds.

Sun: Hey guys...?

Jaune: Yeah...?

Sun: Say if we got superpowers, what do you think we would do...?

Neptune: Whoa... that's one hell of a question dude...

Ren: Like... comic book superpowers, or... anime superpowers?

Neptune: Anime...

Jaune: Totally anime... comic book super powers are lame...

Sun: Cool... So.. what would we do?

Jaune: Well... we would do one of two things if you ask me...

Sun: What...?

Jaune: We'd fight... not because we hate each other, but because we want to...

Ren: Just fight for the heck of it...?

Sun: Yeah... we're just testing out all are awesome moves on one another, and seeing what we could do...

Neptune: That sounds awesome...

Jaune: We would have such an epic fight... like... like an animated stickman fight...!

Sun: Dude...!

Neptune: Duuuude...!

Ren: That sounds AMAZING...!

Neptune: I can totally imagine the whole fight in my head... it looks amazing...

Sun: Ren could pull off so many cool ninja moves... dude I want to see it...!

Ren: What the second thing we would do...?

Jaune: i don't know... probably something stupid...

SNR: ...

Sun: Yeah... I'd buy that...

Neptune: We would make absolute fool out of ourselves...

Ren: Ha-hahaha... I can totally see, Jaune flying, and he starts throwing up...!

Jaune: I end up doing a vomit bombing run all over people...!

SNJR: Hahahahaaaaaaaa...!

~~~

Weiss: Are they okay?

Yang: Are... Are they high?

Nora: Oh no... they've been drinking, Ren's green smoothies...

Ruby: Ren's smoothies can do that to people...?

Nora: Yeah... Pyrrha's semblances when crazy when she got high from, Ren's green smoothies...

Pyrrha: I'm sorry!

Weiss: Is there anything we can do...?

Nora: No, we just have to wait until it wears...?!

SNJR:

RWBYNP: ...?!

Weiss: The hell?! When did they...?!

Yang: Shhh!

Ruby: It's just getting good!

Weiss: Uhhh...? B-Blake...?

Blake: Fuck, that's so hot...

Weiss: Okay... But, who are all those...?

Nora: Shut up, Weiss.

Weiss: Excuse me?!

Pyrrha: This is so awesome...!

Weiss: ...?!

Weiss: ...

Weiss: This is pretty cool to watch.

///

There's... There's just something oddly enthralling about stickmen fight scenes... Don't you think so?

[madlori]

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

OR

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

[electronicdancingghost]

Once again. All those scenes just remind me how much passion and emotion MCU has drained out of me. Sometimes I even hate those characters who are completely innocent, for their story has been torturing me for so many years. Then I feel guilty. I feel guilty and I still hate everyone. There will never be another ship I love and hate so much. All I want is to see them being happy. I just want them to be happy.

[drei-mrssvechii]

cookie time! | andrei svechnikov

join my taglist!

pairing: dad!andrei svechnikov x reader

warnings: mentions of andrei's injury, the canes doing not so well, kids.

word count: 690 words

a/n: ok so i wrote this around last year when svech got injured for playoffs and i'm just posting it now lololol. but anyway! i felt like this was such a cute concept and needed to write it, so here it is! hope you enjoy it, i'm always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.

“how much time till you can return to skating, dada?” your little girl, sofiya, asked as andrei tucked her into bed.

“that’s quite a long time, sunshine,” he replied. she pouted; there was nothing she loved more than going to games and supporting her daddy in her little svech jersey.

though andrei’s injury kept him off the ice, there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him from visiting the rink, and sofiya would gladly follow him everywhere—she was such a daddy’s girl, after all.

so you’d still attend some games, but ever since svech was out, losing had become a constant, and frustration was clearly building within the team. especially for andrei, who couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being able to play.

the mood wasn’t the best, but when it came to sofiya, he would always put on a smile. it wasn’t often that they got to spend so much time together, so she loved having him home to attend her tea parties, tuck her into bed, and take her to school. as much as she adored it, though, she knew her dad missed being on the ice, and sofiya didn’t like seeing him hurt and sad. so one morning, just as she heard andrei leaving for therapy, she went downstairs with what she thought was the perfect plan to cheer him up.

you were in the kitchen, tidying up from breakfast. it was still early, so you planned to get a bit more sleep, assuming your little girl wouldn’t be up until later—or so you thought, until you heard her quick footsteps on the stairs.

“morning, love. what are you doing up so early?” you asked, watching as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a stool to stand next to you.

“can we make chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

“cookies? it’s too early for those, baby,” you said, though knowing chocolate chip cookies were her all-time favorite.

“i know, mom, but cookies make me happy. i bet they’ll make dada happy, too!” she said, explaining her plan with such conviction that you couldn’t help but smile.

it was so sweet how she was thinking of ways to cheer up her dad. so, you quickly gave in, gathered all the ingredients, and handed her a small apron.

she started by cracking the eggs (with a tiny bit of shell making it into the bowl), then you helped her measure the flour, and sofiya poured in what seemed like way too many chocolate chips. the kitchen turned into a delightful mess: flour dusted the counters, little chocolate fingerprints decorated the cabinets, and sofiya sneaked a few chocolate chips every chance she got.

“daddy’s gonna love this!” she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

but just as the first batch of cookies went into the oven, you heard the door open earlier than expected, and sofiya’s face fell.

“oh no, mom! he’s here too soon. it’s all ruined,” she muttered, disappointed.

andrei stepped into the kitchen, chuckling as he took in the scene—flour everywhere, cookie dough on the counters, and sofiya’s pouty face.

“sunshine, what’s all this?” he asked, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

“i wanted to surprise you,” she murmured. “make you happy like you make me happy.”

his face brightened, and he pulled her into a warm hug. “well, you sure did, kiddo. this is the best surprise i could ask for.”

sofiya smiled brightly, inviting him to join her. together, the three of you continued baking. as andrei helped sofiya clean up the counters, you caught his eye, sharing a warm smile. moments like these were rare but so precious.

as the cookies finished baking, andrei had an idea. “hey, sweetheart, how about we take these cookies to practice and share them with the team?”

sofiya’s eyes lit up in excitement. “yes! they’ll be so happy. i miss uncle jarvy,” she said with a little pout.

“he sure misses you too, baby.”

and with a plate of freshly baked cookies in hand, the three of you headed to the rink, just as morning skate wrapped up.

-

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[sunglassesmish]

I think OS and TM might come to regret what they just did. Starting to believe now OS is mostly responsible for this mess. I gave the show a second chance because I thought we were getting a thoughtful queer storyline only to get slap in face. The fact OS felt he needed to address his comments the already shows there is backlash coming hard and fast even if he deleted it. All I want to do now is give LF a hug and tell him how much his role meant to me. Also wondering if Tim didn’t lied to him about his role to get him to come back.

i hope to god the show gets a massive dip in viewership because good god there were so many things wrong in this episode??? the bucktommy stuff was crazy all throughout and it felt weird and i guess now we know why. not to mention the call from last season where the mustache was cgi’d on and buck’s hair was completely different than this season. the best thing was madney (imo)

and yeah, i definitely see a lot of backlash for this. the show has had queer characters all throughout, beautiful ones with loving relationships. but for them to do all this for bucktommy only for a breakup? FOR WHAT. surely lou isn’t so busy he can’t show up for a scene or two every few episodes.

it was an insane decision to break them up and i’ll never understand it.

[rueclfer]

acquainted with the drummer // sero hanta

a/n: writing this as im getting ready for a function rn and super indulgent but idgaf i think u guys needed this too!!! we all needed this!! sero nation hi ily!! also maybeeee wanna do more with this idea another day when i have time

the double tequila shot doesn't feel like a good idea anymore now that it's fighting its way back up your throat.

"chaser?" mina offers, holding out a clear glass with a sip's worth of soda sitting at the bottom of the cup. her eyebrows furrowed into a grimace as the alcohol settled in her own stomach.

you wave her off with a cough, bringing the back of your hand up to your mouth, as if that'll hold back your vomit.

it somehow does.

the burning sensation dissipates with a new feeling- euphoria.

it's a loud and rowdy bar, and you're not used to this scene like mina is, but it's a saturday night and she knew you had nothing more to do than waste the weekend away.

mina has her arm slung over you, essentially forcing your shoulders down to headbang in rhythm with her. you two are laughing at each other in a drunken haze- slightly off beat, hair thrown around and getting caught in the corners of your mouth, and your eye meeting the drummer's every now and then.

you don't formally meet him until you're pressed up against the grimy bathroom stall- the door is as cool on your back as he is hot on your front.

"hanta." he says in between whiskey coaxed kisses "sero hanta."

"hi." you mutter against his lips. "it's nice to meet you, hanta. you were incredible up there."

the light praise sends a chill up his spine. he pulls away for a moment, taking in the sight of your swollen kissed lips, tipsy lidded eyes, and knotted hair.

god, you're so pretty.

he's known about you for a while- mina's quiet roommate. he sees you in passing whenever the group goes over to your apartment for band practice or to just lounge around, but you'd always stay hidden in your room.

sero has a habit of wanting to meet and say hello to everyone. jirou says he's easy kidnap bait, but he thinks everyone's worth knowing.

he should actually be out there in the main bar watching the next band's set and hanging out with the rest of his friends who came out to see them perform, but here he was getting acquainted with you.

"it's nice to meet you." he chuckles, bringing his hand up from your waist to the nape of your neck, as he crashes his lips back into yours, simultaneously pulling you deeper into him as he presses you back against the door.

he wants to devour you at this moment. show you how a real drummer does it. not many get to experience it, but there's a secret plus to the endless stamina after all these years of practice and bar shows.

"ow, hanta." you pull your head forward away from his grasp.

"oh fuck." he brings his hands back to your shoulders, lighting rubbing his thumb over the bare skin in silent apology.

you look down and eye the spiked bands snapped onto each wrist before meeting his gaze again.

he awkwardly huffs out a laugh, connecting his forehead to yours.

"i'm so fucking dumb." he cringes at himself. "sorry."

you run your hand up his chest and to the side of his jaw, brushing your fingers against the slight stubble.

"we should get back to the others, anyways." your cheeks grow hot, suddenly aware of the situation you've gotten yourselves into.

"right." the corner of his lips quirk up, leaning into your touch.

sero suddenly grows nervous, his feet shifting under him.

"raincheck?" he eyes darted away from yours. "you know, maybe you can stop by for practice? or a private show?"

"minus the spikes?"

his eyes widened with a wicked grin.

he leans in and presses one last gentle kiss to your lips before reaching for the doorknob, letting yourselves out and reunited with your friends.

"no promises."

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“I have many names”: Halbrand, the Repentant Mairon in “Rings of Power”

The themes of redemption, second chances and forgiveness are major in Tolkien legendarium. This is due to Tolkien’s Catholic faith, and the belief that no one is irredeemable in the eyes of God, no matter how low they might have fallen.

And we see “Rings of Power” exploring these themes with Sauron’s character in Season 1. Or better yet, with Halbrand, which is the name the show chose for “Repentant Mairon” (Sauron’s original name) of Tolkien lore.

Nothing is Evil in the Beginning

This is the first quote in “Rings of Power”, narrated by Galadriel. This is a reference to Elrond’s quote in “Fellowship of the Ring” book: “For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so.”

In the beginning of time, in the Days before Days, Mairon (the admirable) was created by Eru (God) as a Maia of Aulë, and he was one of the most powerful Maiar (demigods or angels). He was a Maia of smithing, perfection, order and beauty, with qualities like goodness, purity of heart and loyalty, and a dislike for wastefulness. He helped shape Eä (the material universe) alongside the Valar and the other Maiar, during the Ainulindalë (the music of the Ainur), and these qualities (smithing, perfection, order and beauty) were, most likely, his contributions.

Due to his power, he was targeted by the Dark Lord Melkor/Morgoth (the most powerful of the Valar), who seduced him, with promises of greater power. Morgoth is the Satan of Tolkien lore; he was envious of Eru’s capacity of creation, and wanted it for himself. Unable to have it, he devoted himself to corrupt it (which included the corruption of several Maiar), and destroy it.

Becoming Sauron

Mairon, being an idealist, betrayed the Valar and joined Melkor, seeing in him the opportunity to make his ideas a reality. He went on to become Morgoth’s most devoted servant and chief lieutenant, in charge of Angband fortress, in Middle-earth, during the First Age.

Mairon was corrupted by Morgoth, and reshaped into darkness, and all of his qualities reversed: his love became obsession; of order and perfection into dominion and tyranny; beauty into ugliness and monstrosity (by the breeding of the Orcs), goodness into evil, and his loyalty and purity of heart into treachery and deception, becoming the “great deceiver”. The Elves created the name “Sauron” (the abhorrent), as a mockery of his own.

Eventually, Mairon started to resent Melkor, because their goals turned out to be opposite: while Melkor is chaos and destruction, Mairon is order and perfection. Melkor is brute force, Mairon is the brain. What Melkor wanted to destroy, Mairon wished to perfect. Melkor is chaotic evil, while Mairon is lawful evil.

Mairon’s whereabouts are unknown during several periods of time, especially after his defeat at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, the Hound of Valinor (so it’s uncertain if he was hiding from Morgoth, or if Morgoth locked him up somewhere).

Season 2 of “Rings of Power” has already began shedding some light on this, in 2x07:

Sauron: Be not afraid. This too shall pass. I promise you, when Middle-earth is healed, and its people see what you and I did here… all our sufferings will be worth it. Celebrimbor: “Our sufferings”?

Do you know what it is to be tortured at the hands of a god?

Sauron mentioning Morgoth next and how he treated him, seems to indicate that’s what he meant by “all our sufferings will be worth it”. And this idea goes on in this dialogue:

Sauron: Sometimes, the pain almost became a reward. Became a game. A contest, to see whose will was the mightier. Celebrimbor: And after all that, you would still choose to inflict the same pain upon me? Sauron: No. You chose it. Not I. Celebrimbor: What?

I already analyzed this scene from Tolkien theological views of this dynamic, but we can also talk about the wild amount of projection Sauron is doing here. Because the core theme of this scene is Morgoth’s treatment of Sauron, and how he’s replicating that with Celebrimbor. Which might indicate these were things Sauron himself heard from Morgoth in the past: the pain is a reward; you chose it; you [are] the true author of your own torment.

And Celebrimbor saw through this, which explains his reply to Sauron’s nonsense:

And his advise to Galadriel, in the same episode:

We also see Sauron crying while hearing Adar’s tale, in 2x01: “I was in your place once. In the eldest of the Elder Days. Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth. I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left.”

There are many interpretations on why Sauron cries, but I think it’s because he’s recalling his own experience of being “blessed by Morgoth’s hand”, which might have been somewhat similar, but far worse, because Mairon is truly immortal, meaning he can be subjected to every sort of torture imaginable, without truly dying, because he can always re-embody.

And even before any explicit mention of torture, this was already clear when we saw Sauron being resistant to extreme physical pain, hinting it’s something he’s very familiar with: not only he was tortured by Morgoth, but his previous physical form got stabbed into oblivion by the Orcs, without him making a sound.

@love-and-doom asked me why didn’t the Valar or other Maiar intervene when Mairon was being corrupted/tortured by Morgoth? Or why didn’t Aulë tried to get Mairon back? Sauron himself answered to that: because he “chose it”, and he’s the true author of [his] own torment.

Free will is another major theme in Tolkien lore. And neither the Valar, and less alone any Maia, could do anything without Eru’s permission. And the moment a character sides with evil in Tolkien lore, it’s stuck with the consequences. And this goes for Marion, Adar and Celebrimbor. Because all of these characters are both victims and accomplices of Morgoth (the original source of evil), directly (Mairon and Adar), or indirectly (Celebrimbor).

Which also explains why Sauron hates and resents the Gods so much; he probably feels they have forsaken him, like they did with Middle-earth after the War of Wrath, hence him stepping in to rebuild and heal it (because no other Vala would); symbolizing his own desire of healing himself from Morgoth’s corruption.

Sauron in Truth Repented

In 2x01, we saw Sauron getting taught some humility by Adar and the Orcs unionizing against him, when he gets his physical form destroyed, by the means of Morgoth’s crown. Afterwards, Sauron is trapped in a cave for centuries, until he’s able to get out.

He, eventually, re-embodies and is able to recover his physical “fair form”, after centuries as a slimy dark substance.

When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven... That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin. Sauron tells Galadriel, 1x08

Soon, we see him brought low, depressed and unsure on what path to take; having a identity crisis. Some centuries trapped in a cave being goo will do that, even to a demigod (Maia).

We see him lingering on Middle-earth, and by the visual clues (wardrobe and sword) it can indicate that he might have dwelled among humans for a unknown period of time, and even found himself work as smith (sword).

The passage of time is not only hinted by his clothes, but when we, the audience, last saw him he was at Forodwaith (Northern Waste), and when he meets Diarmid, he’s in the Southlands; which means, he traveled all the way from the north to the southeast of Middle-earth.

The Trials of Mairon: Diarmid

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgment of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-Earth. The Silmarillion

There is a theory that Diarmid might have been Eönwë in disguise, sent by Manwë, and his mission was to test Mairon and bring him home to Aman. I subscribe to this theory, because not only it’s aligned with what Tolkien wrote, but because Amazon has limited rights to “The Silmarillion”, and needs to adapt and work around it.

And there’s some clues towards this in the dialogue itself:

That way lies death, friend. […] I know you’ve suffered. I can see it in your eyes. There’s another life waiting for you. You just have to turn toward it. […] A sure path may crumble, but there’s always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there’s places across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life. Come with us, if you like. Or, walk on. And keep chasing death. Choice is yours, friend.

Diarmid also wears the pouch of the King of the Southlands, which might be another clue; “A symbol of kings, long-dead […] My family served them.”

This is also connected with what Mairon tells Galadriel in 1x03: Be careful, Elf. The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility. For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. I am not the hero you seek. For it was my family that lost the war.

In "Rings of Power"; this pouch is symbolical of Mairon's blowing up his redemption, and falling back into evil.

The connection between the Southlanders and Morgoth was also a major theme throughout Season 1. This was, after all, the reason why the Elves kept watch over them for centuries: It has changed much, Watch warden. But the Men who live here have not. The blood of those who stood with Morgoth still darkens their veins. (Revion to Arondir; 1x01).

You were right to watch us. Because we are destined for the darkness. It's how we survive. Perhaps it's who we are. Who we will always be. Bronwyn to Arondir, 1x05

What we see here is that Southlanders were kept watch by the Elves to make sure they were fulfilling their penitence for siding with Morgoth, and obtaining their pardon from the Valar.

Hence Diarmid/Eönwë wearing the pouch of the King of the Southlands, as a test for Mairon: will you choose good and redemption (save Diarmid)? Or will you choose evil and Morgoth (the pouch)?

Diarmid: Nightmares again? What haunts you so? Mairon: I've done evil. Diarmid: All of us have done things that we care not to admit. Mairon: Not like I have. Diarmid: Find forgiveness. You are alive because you have chosen good. Mairon: But what of tomorrow? Diarmid: You have to choose it again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes a part of your nature.

And this makes even more sense with the sea serpent destroying the ship Diarmid and Mairon were traveling on, in the Sundering Seas, near Valinor. A sea creature, most likely, sent by Ulmo, the Vala of the sea. Or even Ossë, the Maia of Inner Seas, himself.

We have the Gods uniting to test Mairon and killing a bunch of humans in the process. Why I’m telling you this? Because the “Rings of Power” fandom has not yet grasped the concept of “being a God” and how Gods are d*cks, overall, who don’t care about individual lives, they look at the full picture and see reality in 5D. Like Sauron himself. And if they need to kill a bunch of people to accomplish their goals, they will. Even Eru sinks an entire island to punish its people, and He’s the ultimate good (and authority) in Tolkien lore.

And Mairon failed the test, because he chose Morgoth (the pouch), and left Diarmid to die.

The Trials of Mairon: Galadriel and Númenor

Sauron was of course not 'evil' in origin. He was a 'spirit' corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth. He was given an opportunity of repentance, when Morgoth was overcome, but could not face the humiliation of recantation, and suing for pardon; and so his temporary turn to good and 'benevolence' ended in a greater relapse. Tolkien Letter 153

Having failed one test, the Valar didn’t give up on Mairon, for they send him another: Galadriel. Who also turned her back on Heaven, by choosing to remain in Middle-earth due to her pride, and desire of hunting down Sauron. And, so, this time, they were both getting tested by the Gods. And even Mairon sees through her, in 1x02: At last, a little honesty. If you want to murder Orcs and settle a score, that's your affair. Don't dress it up as heroism.

When Mairon arrives at Númenor, he sees it as “the place across the sea” Diarmid told him about. Where he can find another path, another life. A island gifted by the Valar themselves to Men, and where they are ever watchful. And so, he believes this is where he can prove his good faith to the Valar and sought their forgiveness for his past sins and crimes under Morgoth.

However, Mairon recognizes that Galadriel can be a liability on his plan of staying at Númenor, not only due to her antagonistic atitude towards the Númenóreans, but also the bad blood between them and the Elves. And that explains his advises to her, in 1x03: “I suggest we set history aside for the moment and show some restraint. Let's try not to antagonize these people.”

When things turn sour in their meeting with Tar-Míriel, we see him employing his charming ways, and acting the diplomat: “It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications. Perhaps it'd be better if we stayed... […] Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request. A few days, perhaps?”

Of course, Mairon’s intention is not to stay in Númenor for just a “few days”. He wants to stay there in servitude, and prove his good will to the Valar: “I have been searching for my peace for longer than you know. Please, for both our sakes, let me keep it.”

to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his [Sauron] good faith; The Silmarillion

When the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall, according to Queen-regent Míriel, the Faithful see in them the tears of the Valar, “a living reminder that their eyes and judgment are ever upon us.”

Which explains Mairon's next actions: after the meeting, he goes straight to Númenor forge, to find himself work there:

There is not another man on this isle that knows this craft better than I. I will shovel coal if needs be, I’ll splinter wood, I’ll shape a sea anchor for you, free of charge, sturdier than anything you have ever seen. How’s that? I’m here to start anew. Lend me that chance. Please. And I won’t forget it. Halbrand/Mairon asks for work at Númenor forge, 1x03

Mairon is told he needs a guild crest in order to be a smith in Númenor, and he’ll do just about anything to get it. And this is when his bounds to Morgoth and his old ways come to the surface: not only does he steal the crest from one of the smiths (and gets into a bloody street fight), but he also tells Ar-Pharazôn of Galadriel’s plans. And this was confirmed by Galadriel herself in 1x05: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest.

And we see Mairon working at the forge, and he’s happy. It’s not random that the times we see Mairon truly happy in Season 1 is when he’s smithing; both in Númenor, and at Eregion, alongside Celebrimbor. This was what he was created to do and to be, by Eru himself. This is his purpose, and what’s he’s meant to be doing. Not getting high on power trips (Morgoth).

And this is a great contrast with Season 2: as Mairon goes deeper into evil, he embraces the sorcerer and neglects the smith. We barely saw him doing any actual smithing in Eregion, in Season 2, while in Season 1, he was involved in the entire process.

And, as Galadriel leaves, the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall. The Valar “cry”: my theory it’s in approval of Mairon’s decision of staying in Númenor, in servitude. He has proven his good will (“in truth repented”) and needs to stay on his current path (redemption is a process). But Míriel looks at it, all wrong (like her father will warn her about), and thinks it’s a warning to follow Galadriel, when it’s actually the other way around.

And 1x05, we see Galadriel acting behind his back and involving Míriel, Queen regent of Númenor, in her plans of getting herself an army to fight “Sauron” in the Southlands (the army she claims Sauron promised her, in 2x06).

And Mairon is vexed. He doesn’t want any part in this; he wants his redemption. And this is very clear in this scene:

Míriel: My thanks, Lord Halbrand. I'm certain your fellowship will prove just as invaluable once we make landfall. Mairon: "Landfall?" Míriel: Galadriel informed us of your aspiration to unite your people. Mairon: Did she now? Galadriel: I trust she was not speaking in haste? Mairon: As a matter of fact, it was my intention... [to stay in Númenor] Galadriel: My companion is merely feeling the weight of his task. I have no doubt, come time, he will do his part. Míriel: Given that I've staked my name upon it, I should hope so. Edda: Queen Regent, your father has requested your presence in the tower. Mairon: "Galadriel informed us." Galadriel: I wondered how the queen knew to waylay me at her father's bedside. It never occurred to me you'd hand me over for a guild crest. Mairon: You used me. After I all but begged you to let me be. Galadriel: I have just convinced Númenor to send five ships and 500 men to aid your people and place a crown upon your head. Many might assume you used me. Mairon: Find another head to crown.

This is Mairon symbolically rejecting Morgoth. And this is the “good” he should have chosen. This is him passing the test, and a step closer to his redemption.

But Morgoth/Galadriel won’t give up, and she goes to the forge to persuade him into taking up the role of King of the Southlands.

I already talked about this on several posts; in Season 1, we see Galadriel being the “Morgoth” to Mairon’s “Sauron” on several occasions, by tempting him with promises of power. And this Númenor forge scene is a direct parallel with Morgoth tempting Mairon with promises of power in Aulë forge.

This idea is also present in Míriel's scene with her father, the king of Númenor, on the same episode, when Tar-Palantir warns her against going to Middle-earth and follow Galadriel:

Tar-Palantir: The kingdom! The kingdom is in danger. I must... Míriel: The danger has passed, Father. We are doing now what you always believed we must. We're restoring our connection with the Elves. I'm going to Middle-earth. Tar-Palantir: Míriel? Míriel: Yes, Father. It's me. Tar-Palantir: Don't go to Middle-earth. All that awaits you there is... Míriel: What, Father? What awaits me? Tar-Palantir: Darkness.

And this is true to both Míriel and Mairon, because darkness is what awaits for them there, should they follow Galadriel. Because, just like Adar tells her, in 1x06: It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror.

And we see this dynamic with Galadriel and Mairon in the forge scene, where the pouch (Morgoth) is used as a plot device; while Galadriel wants him to take it, Mairon rejects it.

Galadriel: I was wrong to use you. For that, I'm sorry. Tomorrow, the queen will call you to audience. Your voice at that meeting may well decide whether this mission stands or falls. Help me. Mairon: I think I've helped you quite enough. Galadriel: Then help yourself. Stop fighting me, and together, let us fight them.

And this is when Galadriel tells him about her brother's death (although Mairon was already aware of this). But that's not what makes him reconsider, and essentially ruin his redemption. It’s when Galadriel says this:

The company I led mutinied against me. My closest friend conspired with the king to exile me. And each of them acted as they did… Because I believe they could no longer distinguish me… from the evil I was fighting.

And this is personal to Mairon. Because of what happened with Adar and Orcs; not only they mutinied against him, but they could no longer distinguish him from Morgoth.

And this is related with what Adar himself tells Galadriel in 1x06: After Morgoth's defeat, the one you call Sauron… Devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh… But over flesh. A power of the Unseen World. He bid as many as he could to follow him far north. But try as he might… Something was missing […] For my part… I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.

Your sorrow cannot ease my pain. And nor will a hammer and tongs ease yours. There is no peace to be found for you here. And nor for me. No lasting peace in any path, but that which lies across the sea. I have fought for centuries, seeking to earn mine. This is how you earn yours.

Find Forgiveness

And this is when everything collapses, and changes for Mairon. He now believes his redemption is connected to Galadriel and her forgiveness. But he’s deeply mistaken, because by following Galadriel and going to Middle-earth, all that awaits him there is darkness, like Tar-Palantir prophesied.

And that’s why Galadriel is connected to the Fall of Númenor visions: she's the “Morgoth” who brings "Sauron" back, like Gil-galad foresaw, in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

By following Galadriel, Mairon chooses deception over redemption. And it’s like Elrond says to Galadriel in 2x02: “It was entirely of your choosing. Sauron looked inside you, plucked the very song of your soul, note by note, making himself out to be exactly what you needed. "The Lost King" who could ride you to victory.”

And this is exactly what Mairon does, hoping to earn Galadriel’s forgiveness, and redeem himself. And he makes his choice. And he chooses wrong. He fails the test; and he chooses Morgoth (the pouch), all over again.

And in 1x06, we see Mairon helping people, and guiding them to safety. And he thinks it’s because of Galadriel’s influence on him, and not of his own doing. Because he’s a Maia, he was created as a servant, and he needs to serve someone, otherwise he’s lost.

Galadriel: Whatever it was he did to you, and whatever it was you did... Be free of it. Mairon: I never believed I could be... Until today. Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...

And when Galadriel tells him “I’ve felt it too”; it’s the confirmation and validation Mairon needed. He thinks she’ll be willing to bind herself to him, and keep him in the light, and he'll achieve the redemption he so desperately wants.

But Galadriel’s light is merely aesthetic; it’s the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, who shines on every Elf who was born during the Years of the Trees. But in her case it’s more perceptible, because of her legendary golden, shot with silver, hair. And it’s her beauty that blinds Mairon; the Maia who loves beautiful things.

Forgiveness takes an Age

Forgiveness doesn't come to folk like me. Sooner or later, they'll cast me out, you know they will. Estrid to Isildur, 2x03

In Tolkien legendarium “forgiveness” is not just “earned”, it’s given, as well. And we see this with Frodo and Gollum in “Lord of the Rings”: it’s Frodo’s mercy and pity that ultimately allow Gollum to “redeem” himself, because he's the one who destroys the Ring, by falling down the volcano with it. Frodo, in “Fellowship of the Ring” believed Gollum deserved death and that Bilbo should have killed him when he got the chance, but Gandalf shares some wisdom with him on that topic. However, after he meets Gollum, he pities him and takes mercy on him.

And when Galadriel rejects his offer, Mairon sees it as a rejection of her forgiveness. She tells him: No penance could ever erase the evil you have done; and he sees this as confirmation of his worse fears, on a subconscious level (because he’ll try to redeem himself through the “rings of power” masterplan, still); he’s not worthy of redemption, and others will always cast him out. This is the turning point for him.

Because this is also a theme morally gray or villainous characters face in Tolkien lore (especially in The Silmarillion): they are always seen as irredeemable by others, and must die. But these characters are wrong, due to Tolkien’s ideas of redemption, rooted in Catholic faith (and this is what is called “unreliable narrators”, because “The Silmarillion” is written by the Eldar POV, and is a collection of facts, myths and gossip, essentially).

In Tolkien lore, “redemption” is a process, and a nuanced and complex idea. It’s broader than just one villain turning good overnight, because in the legendarium this process is not instantaneous. It’s pretty much like Diarmid tells Mairon in 2x01: it’s a process where the character has to progress towards good by conscious choice and free will: “you have to chose it again, until it becomes part of your nature”.

But Mairon never chooses this. And in Season 1 of “Rings of Power”, it’s exactly what Tolkien wrote: he in truth repents, temporarily turns to good and benevolence, but doesn’t see his redemption through as a result of his own choices. And the “pride” Tolkien talks about is personified in Galadriel, and him choosing to follow her, instead of staying in Númenor in servitude. But he means well throughout Season 1 and Season 2, too; when he embraces the next plot of his character arc, “Annatar the reformer”.

And this is Halbrand. And he was very much real, and not one of “Sauron’s illusions” or deceptions. He was Mairon seeking redemption and pardon from the Valar due to his crimes under Morgoth.

I'm planning on doing meta on "Annatar the Reformer" of Tolkien lore, too. But I got a feeling "he" is not over in "Rings of Power", just yet. I think that plot will continue in Season 3.