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won4kiss · 1 month ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE.

SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon were close friends until high school changed things. when your best friend began dating him, you realized your feelings for sunghoon ran deeper than friendship—a letter you wrote a long time ago makes its way to park sunghoon, what will happen when he asks you to fake date him? could you ignore your past feelings or will this go horribly wrong.. INSPIRED BY TATBILB.

୨୧ PAiRING. ex-bestfriend’s ex boyfriend! park sunghoon x fem! reader, jock! sunghoon x academic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. highschool romance, fake dating, mostly fluff, very minimal angst. non!idol au. she fell first, he fell harder, happy ending!!

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, karina being annoying ngl.. yn being indecisive, overthinking, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,456 / 10.4K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ i like me better, lauv, goodnight n go, ariana grande, boyfriend, ariana grande, new romantics, taylor swift, somebody to you, the vamps, fine line, harry styles, japanese denim, daniel caesar.

NOTE. thank u guys sm for all the support on the teaser!! i’m not too happy with this but i hope u guys enjoy reading this ^^ i literally love the movies sm so i HAD to write smt for tatbilb ☝️🤓 i strongly recommend reading the teaser before this!!

IT’S JUST AN ORDINARY AFTERNOON, OR SO YOU THINK.

you’re in your room, organizing the clutter on your desk that’s been piling up for years—old notebooks, random receipts, ticket stubs from movies you don’t even remember watching.

a wave of nostalgia hits as you sift through bits and pieces of your past—buried beneath a pile of loose papers, you find it: the letter. that letter.

the one you wrote to park sunghoon all those years ago.

your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the crinkled envelope, your heart beating faster as memories rush back. you’d almost forgotten about it—almost.

with your hands trembling, you pick up the letter, reading the words scribbled across the front.

his name, written in your messy handwriting, brings back a flood of feelings you thought you’d buried for good.

this letter holds all the emotions you couldn’t say out loud. it’s a part of you—a vulnerable, painful part that you’ve kept locked away for years.

you’re tempted to rip it apart, to destroy it like you should have back then.

but before you can make a decision, your phone buzzes on the desk beside you.

a message notification from your younger sibling—who’s supposed to be helping with errands—pulls your attention away.

“hey, can you drop off the mail for me? i left a bunch of letters on the kitchen counter. thanks!”

you groan, glancing at the clock—you don’t really have the time to run errands right now, but you suppose it won’t take long.

tossing the letter back into the pile, you get up, grab the stack of letters from the kitchen, and head to the mailbox.

the evening air is cool, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

it’s just a letter, you remind yourself. it’s in the past—sunghoon is in the past. he and karina are in the past.

you drop the letters into the mailbox without a second thought.

it isn’t until much later—when you’re getting ready for bed—that the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

the letter—sunghoon’s letter.

panic floods your chest as you bolt upright, your heart pounding in your ears.

you scramble to your desk, frantically shuffling through the papers, looking for the envelope. but it’s not there. it’s gone.

you feel sick.

“no, no, no…” you whisper to yourself, your mind racing in denial.

you couldn’t have misplaced it could you?

you had placed it in the pile, the pile you just dropped into the mailbox. the letter—the one meant for no one—is on its way to park sunghoon.

the next morning, you’re a mess.

you hardly slept, your mind replaying every worst-case scenario over and over.

what’s going to happen when sunghoon reads the letter? will he think you’re some weirdo still pining after him? will he laugh at how pathetic you must seem?

you can’t stop the panic from rising, no matter how much you try to calm yourself down.

by the time you’re at school, you feel like a bundle of nerves, anxiety if it were a physical form.

you avoid everyone, keeping your head low as you rush to your first class, hoping to make it through the day unnoticed.

but fate doesn’t seem to care about your plans.

you’re at your locker, rifling through your books, when you feel someone approach you from behind.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. slowly, you turn around, and your stomach drops— park sunghoon is standing right there.

his tall figure leans casually against the lockers, his eyes locked on yours, unreadable.

you’ve seen that cool, calm expression a million times before, but now it makes your palms sweat.

“hey,” he says, his voice smooth and silky, just like always.

you blink, trying to keep your expression neutral. “oh…hey, sunghoon.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air thickens—you can tell he’s holding something back.

finally, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

“so—uh..i got this in the mail yesterday.”

your blood runs cold as your eyes lock onto the familiar envelope in his hand. the world feels like it’s tilting, and all you can think is, this isn’t happening. this can’t be happening.

“i wasn’t expecting something like this,” he says, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “you wanna explain?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out.

what are you even supposed to say? that it was a mistake? that you didn’t mean to send it? that the feelings you wrote about years ago were just a phase, long since forgotten?

sunghoon waits, watching you with that calm, intense gaze that makes your pulse race.

he’s not giving anything away, not yet. you can’t tell if he’s mad or confused or if he’s just messing with you.

but you know one thing: he’s not letting this go.

finally, you manage to speak. “i… i didn’t mean for you to see that.”

sunghoon tilts his head, looking intrigued. “no?”

“no,” you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it was a long time ago. i wrote it…a while back. i never meant to send it.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe?—but he doesn’t let it show for long. “so…you don’t feel this way anymore?”

you freeze.

how do you even answer that? the truth is…complicated—you hadn’t thought about those feelings for a long time, at least not consciously.

you thought you were over it—over him. but now, standing here with him holding your deepest secrets in his hands, all those old emotions are bubbling up to the surface, making you second-guess everything.

“i…” you start, but the words stick in your throat.

sunghoon watches you closely, his gaze sharp and focused. it’s the same look he used to give you when you were younger, the look that said he could see right through you.

he always knew when something was bothering you. he always knew you.

“you don’t have to answer right now,” he says, his voice softer than before. “but…we need to talk about this. you can’t just drop something like this on me and expect me to ignore it.”

you nod, feeling your stomach churn—you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you stay silent, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole.

but sunghoon doesn’t move. he just keeps standing there, holding the letter between his fingers, as if waiting for something.

then, as if sensing your discomfort, he sighs and folds the letter, tucking it back into his jacket.

“look, y/n,” he says, his tone more relaxed now, “i’m not mad or anything. it’s just…unexpected.”

you nod again, your throat dry.

sunghoon pushes off the lockers, taking a step closer, his presence is overwhelming, making your heart race.

“we’ll figure this out,” he says, his voice low and steady. “but for now, let’s just…talk later. after school?”

you swallow hard, nodding once more. “yeah. after school.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning and walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, dazed and overwhelmed.

your mind is spinning, replaying everything that just happened, and all you can think is: what now?

the day feels like a blur after your confrontation with sunghoon.

every class drags on as your mind races through every possible outcome of that letter being in his hands.

when you get called on during your calculus class, you barely manage a coherent answer, your usual sharpness dulled by the storm in your head.

normally, being the top student in your class—the one everyone goes to for homework help or notes—gives you some confidence.

but right now, nothing seems to calm your nerves—not even acing the quiz that’s handed back to you.

all you can think about is what sunghoon wants to “talk about” after school.

you’re already dreading it when the final bell rings.

as you head toward the meeting spot—outside the gym, where you know sunghoon will be after practice—you can’t stop the tight knot forming in your stomach.

the hallway buzzes with activity, people passing by in crowds—athletes are huddled in groups, chatting loudly about the upcoming game, and among them is sunghoon—blending in perfectly.

he’s talking to his friends, tall and confident in his varsity jacket, his hair slightly messy from practice.

the sight of him makes your chest tighten—he’s the type of guy who seems to have it all: popularity, athletic skill, and that natural charm that draws people in.

you, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—known for your academics rather than your social life.

the two of you haven’t even spoken in years, not since that rift grew between you after his breakup with karina.

and now, you’re about to dive into a conversation that could make things a hundred times more awkward.

you stand a few feet away, hesitating, until sunghoon notices you.

he gives you a small, almost secret smile, and breaks away from his group, leaving his teammates behind.

“hey,” he says casually, as if the two of you talk every day.

you manage a shaky smile. “hey.”

sunghoon gestures for you to follow him around the corner, where it’s quieter, away from the lingering crowd.

the tension between you is thick, and the air feels charged with unspoken things.

you hug your books closer to your chest, trying to find the right words, but it’s sunghoon who speaks first.

“i thought about what you said earlier,” he starts, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

his expression is serious, but not in an intimidating way—more like he’s trying to work through something in his head.

“and i get that the letter was from a long time ago, but…i think there’s something we could both get out of this.”

your brows knit in confusion. “what do you mean?” sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“look, ever since the breakup with karina, i’ve been getting a lot of…questions. people keep assuming things, especially with you being involved, since you were friends with her. it’s getting annoying.”

you frown, not liking where this is going. “what kind of things?”

he shrugs, but his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. “people think you’re the reason we broke up.”

your heart skips a beat. “what—me?”

“yeah,” he says, his tone casual, but you can see the weight behind his words. “there’s this rumor that i broke up with her because of you. that we had this…thing going on behind her back.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “that’s ridiculous. i barely even talked to you after you guys got together.”

“i know,” he says, his eyes softening. “but you know how high school is. people talk.”

you groan, rubbing your temple. this is exactly the kind of drama you’ve always tried to avoid, keeping your head down and focusing on school.

“so…what does this have to do with the letter?”

sunghoon straightens up, his gaze sharp. “i think we can use this to our advantage.”

“use…what?” you ask, your voice wary.

he gestures between the two of you. “the rumors. the letter. look, if people already think there was something between us, then why not just lean into it? we could pretend to date for a while. it’d shut people up, and i wouldn’t have to keep explaining myself to every person who asks about karina. and maybe it’ll get people off your back too.”

you blink at him, processing his words. “you want to pretend to date? like…fake dating?”

he nods like an excited puppy, as if it’s the most logical solution in the world. “exactly. it’d be easier for both of us. we’d keep it simple—just enough to make people believe it.”

your mind reels at the suggestion—you’ve seen this happen in movies, read about it in books, but this is real life.

and the idea of pretending to date sunghoon feels…absurd. sure, it might get people to stop talking about karina and his breakup, but what about you?

you’ve spent years keeping your feelings buried, and now he wants to parade around as if you’re together? that sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“sunghoon,” you start, your voice cautious, “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“because it’s…weird,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “we haven’t even been friends for years. what makes you think anyone would believe we’re suddenly dating?”

he smirks, leaning in slightly. “because we used to be close. people know that. it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”

you bite your lip, still unconvinced. “but…what’s the point? i mean, won’t it just make things worse when people find out it’s fake?”

he shrugs again, that easygoing confidence still radiating from him. “maybe. but by then, it won’t matter. they’ll have moved on to the next piece of gossip. besides, it’s not like we’d have to keep it up forever. just long enough for things to blow over.”

you hesitate, your mind spinning with possibilities.

on one hand, the thought of faking a relationship with sunghoon makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

but on the other hand…it could solve a lot of problems—maybe it would keep people from asking about karina.

maybe it would give you a chance to finally move past all the old feelings that have been resurfacing ever since the letter.

but it’s risky. too risky.

“i don’t know,” you say, your voice uncertain.

sunghoon watches you for a moment, then steps closer, lowering his voice.

“look, i know it’s a lot to ask, but think about it. this could be good for both of us. you wouldn’t have to keep dodging questions about karina, and i wouldn’t have to deal with everyone assuming things about us. plus,” he adds with a slight smirk, “it might even be fun.”

you give him a skeptical look as you scoff in disbelief. “fun?”

he grins, that playful glint in his eyes you remember so well from years ago.

“yeah. i mean, we used to be friends, right? it’s not like we don’t know how to get along. we can make it believable.”

there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, that spark of the old sunghoon—the boy who used to make you laugh, who used to confide in you late at night during sleepovers, before everything got complicated.

for a moment, you’re reminded of how easy things used to be between you two. how natural it felt.

maybe…just maybe, this could work.

you take a deep breath, weighing your options—it’s crazy. it’s beyond risky, but it might be the only way to fix this mess.

and if it’s just pretending, then what’s the harm? you’ll just have to keep your real feelings locked away—like you always have.

“okay,” you say finally, your voice steady. “let’s do it.”

sunghoon’s smile widens, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’ve made the right choice. he holds out his hand. “deal?”

you hesitate for just a second before shaking his hand. “deal.”

the next few days pass in a whirlwind of rumors, whispers, and carefully orchestrated moments.

word spreads fast that you and sunghoon are dating, and the school is buzzing with curiosity.

everyone seems to have their eyes on you—especially since you’re not exactly part of his social circle.

the jock and the ‘nerd’, the golden boy and the brainiac—it’s a combination that no one saw coming.

but you and sunghoon play the part well, you walk together in the hallways, sit next to each other during lunch, and even hang out after school for the occasional “study session.” to everyone else, it looks like the real deal.

you’re careful to keep things light and casual, just like sunghoon said.

no hand-holding or public displays of affection—just enough closeness to make it believable.

but as the days go by, you start to notice little things—the way sunghoon looks at you sometimes, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

the way he laughs at your jokes, even the ones that aren’t particularly funny. and the way your heart skips a beat whenever he smiles at you.

it’s all pretend, of course. it has to be—but sometimes…it feels too real.

as the days turn into weeks, the fake dating plan takes on a life of its own.

you and sunghoon settle into a routine of sorts—walking to class together, sharing lunch, and spending time after school.

it’s strange at first, pretending to be something you’re not, but soon it becomes almost second nature.

you’re surprised at how easy it is to fall into this rhythm with him, despite everything that’s happened between you, there’s a familiarity that lingers, reminding you of how things used to be when you were best friends.

sometimes, when you’re alone with him, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? it’s too easy. too comfortable. and that’s when the lines start to blur.

it starts with the small things. like how he goes out of his way to find you in the mornings before school.

at first, it’s just part of the plan—he says you need to be seen together—but then it becomes something more.

his texts in the evenings aren’t just about “keeping up appearances” anymore; they’re full of little comments about your day, things that make you smile when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at your phone.

and then there are the moments when he touches you.

it’s never anything big or obvious—just his hand brushing against yours as you walk, or his arm slung casually around your shoulder when you’re sitting together during lunch.

each touch sends sparks through your skin, leaving you wondering if he feels it too.

but the biggest change comes one afternoon after school.

you’re sitting in the library, books spread out in front of you as you try to focus on an upcoming exam.

you’ve always been good at studying—quiet places like this are your sanctuary—but today, your mind is elsewhere.

you’re thinking about sunghoon, about the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, and how it’s making it harder to remember that this is all just pretend.

the sound of footsteps approaching snaps you out of your thoughts.

you glance up to see sunghoon walking toward you, that familiar soft smile on his face.

“hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

you raise an eyebrow. “you do realize this is the library, right? i thought jocks weren’t allowed in here.”

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “i’m full of surprises. besides, i thought you might need a break.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. “i’m studying, hoon. you know, that thing people do when they want to pass their classes?”

he shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “yeah, but you’re already the smartest person in school. you can afford to take a break.”

you sigh, closing your book. “i can’t believe i’m saying this, but fine. what do you want?”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. there’s something different in his eyes today—something softer.

“i was thinking we should go to the movies this weekend.”

you blink in surprise. “the movies?”

“yeah. you know, that place where people go to sit in the dark and pretend they’re not awkwardly sitting next to strangers?”

you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion. “why?”

he shrugs again, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “why not? we’re supposed to be dating, right? might as well go on an actual date.”

you hesitate, your heart racing. “sunghoon, this was supposed to be lowkey. we agreed we wouldn’t do anything that would make it seem… too real.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just a movie. we’re not getting married or anything.”

you bite your lip, feeling a strange feeling of excitement and anxiety building in your chest.

the idea of going on a date with sunghoon—even a fake one—makes your stomach do flips.

but you remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. it’s not real. it can’t be.

“okay,” you say finally. “but don’t expect me to share my popcorn.”

he grins, his smile lighting up his face. “deal.”

the weekend comes faster than you expected, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the movie theater, feeling more nervous than you’ve felt in a long time.

you can’t figure out why—this is just a fake date, after all.

but there’s something about the way sunghoon looks when he arrives, wearing a casual jacket and that effortless smile, that makes your heart skip a beat.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

you nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. “yeah. let’s get this over with.”

sunghoon laughs and leads you inside, where you buy tickets and snacks.

you’re still trying to act nonchalant when you sit down in the theater, but the darkness and the closeness between you make it harder to ignore the way your body reacts to his presence.

his arm brushes against yours as he settles into his seat, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

the movie starts, but you barely pay attention.

your mind is too busy racing through thoughts of sunghoon—how close he is, how easy it would be to just lean into him—your heart pounds in your chest, and you silently curse yourself for letting things get this far.

and then, halfway through the movie, it happens.

sunghoon shifts in his seat, and without thinking, his hand finds yours in the darkness.

his fingers curl around yours, gentle and warm, and for a moment, you freeze—your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

you glance at him, but his eyes are focused on the screen, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

as if holding your hand wasn’t something that would send your mind spiraling.

you tell yourself to pull away, to remind him that this is fake—that this can’t mean anything—but you don’t.

you let your hand stay in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and for the rest of the movie, you don’t move.

the walk home is quieter than usual, you and sunghoon walk side by side, but there’s a new kind of tension between you.

neither of you mention the hand-holding, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, or if you’re both too afraid to bring it up.

when you reach your house, you stop at the front door, turning to face him. “thanks for the movie,” you say, your voice soft.

sunghoon smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes—something you can’t quite read. “anytime.”

for a moment, you just stand there, unsure of what to do next—there’s a beat of silence, and then, before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“sunghoon…this is all still pretend, right?”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable. “of course.”

you nod, forcing a smile. “good. just wanted to make sure.”

but as you turn to go inside, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. something you might not be able to control.

the next week is filled with more of the same tension.

every time you and sunghoon are together, it feels like the air is charged with something you can’t quite define.

the lines between what’s real and what’s fake are starting to blur, and you can’t stop thinking about the way his hand felt in yours.

you know you shouldn’t be thinking like this.

this was all supposed to be an act—a way to get people off your backs—but now, with every passing day, it’s becoming harder to keep up the facade.

you’re starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something more going on here, maybe he feels the same way.

and then, one afternoon after school, everything changes.

you’re at your locker, packing up your things, when you hear footsteps approaching.

you glance up to see karina standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on you.

your heart sinks.

it’s the first time you’ve seen her in months, and the look on her face is anything but friendly.

“we need to talk,” she says, her voice cold.

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. “okay.”

karina steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “what the hell is going on between you and sunghoon?”

you freeze, your mind racing—you’ve been so caught up in your fake relationship that you haven’t even thought about how this might look to karina.

she’s your ex-best friend, after all—and sunghoon is her ex.

“i…i don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, but karina isn’t buying it.

“don’t play dumb,” she snaps. “i know something’s going on. you’re always together now. you’re even going on dates.”

you open your mouth to deny it, to explain that it’s all just pretend, but the words die in your throat.

how are you supposed to explain something like this? that you’re fake dating her ex to get people to stop talking about the breakup? that it’s all just a lie?

but before you can say anything, karina cuts you off.

“just…tell me the truth,” she says, her voice softer now. “are you in love with him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

the answer should be simple—no, it’s all fake. but as you stand there, looking into karina’s eyes, you realize that you don’t know the answer anymore.

and that terrifies you.

karina’s question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, the hallway suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around you.

your mind races, trying to figure out how to respond.

you’ve spent so long convincing yourself—and everyone else—that this relationship with sunghoon is fake, but now you’re not so sure.

you’re not in love with him… right? you can’t be. this is just pretend. it has to be.

but when you look at karina, her eyes full of hurt and suspicion, something twists in your chest.

you didn’t want to hurt her—yes, it was her who cut you off, but you still cared for her deeply.

you didn’t want to make things complicated, but now, everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“i…” your voice cracks, and you bite your lip, struggling to find the words. “karina, it’s not like that.”

she narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “then what is it like? because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around with sunghoon behind my back.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no. it’s not like that at all. we’re not—” you stop, realizing that you can’t just blurt out the truth.

that it’s all fake. it would make everything worse, wouldn’t it? how could karina understand that this whole thing started as a way to avoid drama? you know you need to tread carefully.

“we’re not sneaking around,” you say finally, choosing your words carefully. “it just kind of…happened. but it’s not what you think.”

karina’s expression softens for a moment, and she looks at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“then what is it? were you planning this while we were friends? i thought we were friends back then. best friends.”

you flinch at her words, the guilt hitting you hard—there was a time when you and karina were inseparable, when she was the one you confided in about everything—except your feelings for sunghoon.

and that’s what ruined everything, isn’t it? you never told her how you felt about him. you kept it buried, hoping it would disappear, but it didn’t.

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” you say quietly. “i never meant for any of this to happen. after you and sunghoon broke up, i thought… i thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“well, it does matter. and now i’m stuck watching my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend play house together like none of it ever meant anything.”

her words sting, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

part of you wants to explain everything—to tell her that this was all just fake, that none of it is real.

but there’s another part of you, a part that’s starting to realize that maybe, there’s more truth to this fake relationship than you want to admit.

before you can say anything else, karina steps back, her face hardening. “just…do me a favor, okay? be honest with yourself. if you’re in love with him, own it. don’t pretend it’s all some game. because it’s not.”

with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

you spend the rest of the day in a daze, karina’s words echoing in your mind.

be honest with yourself—how are you supposed to do that when you don’t even know what’s real anymore?

sunghoon hasn’t said anything about the way things have been between you lately, but you can feel it—the shift.

the way he looks at you differently, the way his touches linger just a little too long, the way he seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in your life.

it’s more than just pretending now—at least for you.

but the big question for you is: does he feel the same way? or is this all in your head?

later that evening, you’re sitting in your room, staring blankly at your textbooks, when your phone buzzes on the desk—it’s a message from sunghoon.

“wanna grab ice cream? need a break from all this studying.”

you hesitate, staring at the screen, the last thing you want is to spend time with him right now, not when everything feels so confusing.

but part of you knows that avoiding him won’t solve anything—if anything, you need to confront this head-on.

you need to figure out what’s going on between you, whether it’s real or not.

“sure,” you text back, your heart thudding in your chest.

the ice cream parlor is quiet when you arrive, the soft buzzing of the freezer and the scent of sugar filling the air.

sunghoon is already there, sitting at a booth in the corner with two cones in front of him.

he grins when he sees you, waving you over.

“i got your favorite,” he says, pushing a cone of double scooped strawberry ice-cream towards you.

you smile, sliding into the booth across from him. “thanks.”

for a moment, everything feels normal again. the two of you sit there, eating ice cream and talking about nothing in particular—school, classes, his upcoming game.

it’s easy, comfortable, just like it used to be—but underneath the surface, there’s something simmering, something that’s been building for weeks.

you decide to break the silence, you couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“sunghoon,” you say, setting your cone down. “we need to talk.”

he raises an eyebrow, but there’s no surprise in his eyes. it’s like he’s been expecting this.

“about what?” he asks, though you can tell he already knows what you’re going to say.

you take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in front of you. “about… us.”

sunghoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

his expression is unreadable, but there’s a stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before.

“what about us?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you hesitate, trying to find the right words. “this whole fake dating thing… it’s starting to feel like more than just a game.”

his eyes flicker with something—surprise? amusement? you can’t tell.

“go on,” he says, his voice softer now.

you bite your lip, the words catching in your throat. “i guess what i’m trying to say is… i don’t know if i can keep pretending. it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

there. you’ve said it. you’ve put everything out in the open, and now all you can do is wait for his response.

for a moment, sunghoon is silent, his eyes locked on yours—the tension between you is almost unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words.

finally, he lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward.

“i’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you think you’ve misheard him. “you have?”

he nods, his eyes searching yours. “yeah. at first, this was just supposed to be for show, but… i don’t know. it doesn’t feel fake anymore. not to me, at least.”

your breath catches in your throat. “so… what does that mean?”

sunghoon reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. his touch is warm, steady, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“i think it means that maybe we should stop pretending,” he says softly. “and figure out what this really is.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. is this really happening? is sunghoon—your fake boyfriend, your old best friend, karina’s ex—actually saying that he wants something real?

“are you sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiles, that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, pretty. i’m sure.”

the rest of the evening passes in a blur.—you and sunghoon talk—really talk—for the first time in weeks, peeling back the layers of your fake relationship and exposing the real feelings that have been hiding underneath.

it feels strange, scary even, to admit that you’ve both developed feelings for each other. but it also feels…right.

when he walks you home later that night, the air between you is light, free of the tension that’s been building for so long.

as you stand on your front porch, there’s a moment of hesitation—an awkward pause where neither of you knows what to do next.

but then, without saying a word, sunghoon steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft glint in his eyes.

your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers linger against your skin.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss is soft, hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer.

it’s like everything you’ve been holding back—the tension, the uncertainty, the feelings you’ve been too afraid to admit—finally breaks free.

when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“that didn’t feel fake,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you laugh softly, your hands still resting against his chest. “no. it didn’t.”

the next morning, you wake up with a strange sense of peace.

for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’re pretending—you don’t have to put on a show anymore, don’t have to act like your feelings for sunghoon are anything less than real.

but as you get ready for school, there’s still a small voice in the back of your mind—a nagging worry about what happens next.

how will people react when they find out that your “fake” relationship has turned real? and more importantly…how will karina take it?

you push those thoughts aside as you walk into school, determined not to let anything ruin the fragile happiness you’ve found with sunghoon.

but as soon as you step into the hallway, you realize that avoiding the truth isn’t going to be that easy.

because standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, is karina yet again.

the moment you see karina standing at your locker, your heart drops.

her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a way that tells you she knows.

she knows that whatever you had with sunghoon, fake or not, is no longer just a game.

there’s no avoiding this confrontation now—you’ve already crossed the line, and karina is here to make you deal with the fallout.

you brace yourself for what’s to come, walking toward her with your head held high.

inside, though, your stomach twists into knots—you’ve always hated confrontation, and this one feels worse than any argument you’ve ever had before.

“hi,” you say cautiously when you reach her, trying to sound calm.

but karina’s face is unreadable, her eyes cold as they lock onto yours.

“so are you two serious now?” she asks, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

you flinch, feeling the weight of her words hit you—you expected her to be angry, maybe even furious, but this—this quiet, detached version of karina—is worse.

it’s like she’s shutting down, not giving you a chance to explain or apologize.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “karina, i didn’t plan for any of this to happen. it just—”

“it just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising slightly. “it just happened? you didn’t plan on falling for him, but you did anyway?”

you bite your lip, unsure of what to say—she’s right. you didn’t plan for any of this, but that doesn’t make it any less painful for her.

and it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

“i really didn’t want to hurt you,” you say softly, but the words feel empty, even to you.

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.“you know, for a long time, i thought we could go back to how things used to be. that we could just…move past everything. but i guess i was wrong.”

she looks at you, her eyes filled with disappointment. “i thought you were my best friend. but you’ve been hiding this the whole time, you didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you saw him that way.”

your heart clenches painfully in your chest. “karina, i wasn’t lying. i didn’t know—”

“didn’t know what?” she snaps. “that you had feelings for sunghoon? that you were using him to make me jealous? or did you just not care about how i’d feel once you finally admitted the truth?”

tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to break down here, in the middle of the hallway.

“please—it wasn’t like that, i swear.”

karina stares at you for a long moment, her expression softening slightly. “maybe it wasn’t. but it doesn’t matter anymore. you made your choice.”

with that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

you want to run after her, to fix things, but you know deep down that this isn’t something that can be fixed with an apology.

you’ve lost her for good now—your best friend—and you don’t know if you’ll ever get her back.

later that day, you’re sitting with sunghoon at lunch, but the usual lightness between you is gone.

you’re distracted, your mind still replaying the conversation with karina over and over—you can’t stop thinking about what she said, about how badly you’ve hurt her.

sunghoon notices. he always does.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning closer to you, his voice low and concerned.

you nod, but it’s a lie. “yeah, i’m fine.”

he doesn’t believe you, of course. “come on, don’t lie to me. i can tell something’s bothering you.”

you let out a sigh, pushing your food around on your tray without eating. “i talked to karina this morning. she’s…not okay with us. with what’s happening.”

sunghoon frowns, his expression turning serious. “what did she say?”

you shake your head, trying to brush it off. “she’s just…hurt. i don’t blame her. i’d feel the same way if i were in her shoes.”

sunghoon is quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“so what does that mean? do you want to stop? end this?”

the question takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to answer.

do you want to stop? would that make things better with karina? or would it just make everything worse?

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “i just don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and you can see the tension building in his posture.

he’s frustrated, but he’s holding it back—for now. “so you want to throw everything away because karina’s upset? what about us?”

the words hang in the air, and you feel a lump form in your throat—he’s right. it’s not just about karina anymore.

it’s about you and him—and whatever this thing between you has become.

but how do you choose between someone you loved as a friend and someone you might be falling for?

“i don’t want to throw anything away,” you say quietly. “but i don’t know how to fix this.”

sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “look, i get that karina’s your friend, or at least she was, but we can’t keep pretending like we owe her something. we didn’t do anything wrong. she broke up with me, not the other way around.”

his words make sense, but they don’t take away the guilt gnawing at you. “i know, but—”

“but what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “are you going to let her decide how we live our lives? is that what this is about?”

you flinch at his tone, the sudden harshness in his voice catching you off guard. “no, of course not. i just…i didn’t think things would get this complicated.”

sunghoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “well, guess what? things are complicated. that’s life. but you can’t just run away every time something gets difficult.”

his words sting, and you feel a surge of defensiveness rise in your chest.

“i’m not running away,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “i’m just trying to figure out how to do the right thing.”

“and what’s the right thing, huh?” sunghoon challenges, his eyes flashing with frustration.

“because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re more worried about what karina thinks than what we have.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

you don’t know how to explain it—how torn you feel between your loyalty to karina and your growing feelings for sunghoon.

it feels like no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

sunghoon’s expression hardens. “so what are you saying? you want to call it quits? pretend like none of this ever happened?”

you bite your lip, hating the way his words cut into you. “i don’t know, sunghoon. i just need time to think.”

there’s a long pause, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. finally, he stands up, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“take all the time you need,” he says coldly. “but don’t expect me to wait around forever.”

and with that, he walks away, leaving you sitting there alone, the ache in your chest growing deeper by the second.

the next few days are torture—sunghoon barely speaks to you, and when he does, it’s short and distant, like he’s putting up a wall between you.

it’s painful, watching the person you’ve grown so close to suddenly shut you out.

and as much as you want to talk to him, to apologize, you’re not sure if you even know how to fix things.

karina’s words still haunt you, and the guilt you feel for hurting her hasn’t gone away.

but now, there’s something else—something worse. the fear that you’ve lost sunghoon, too.

it’s late one evening, after another day of tense silences and awkward interactions, that you decide you can’t take it anymore.

you grab your phone, your fingers hovering over sunghoon’s contact—for a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest.

what if he doesn’t want to talk? what if he’s already decided that it’s over?

but you can’t keep avoiding this, you need to confront it head-on, like he said.

taking a deep breath, you type out a message.

“can we talk? please.”

you don’t expect him to respond right away, but to your surprise, your phone buzzes just a few seconds later.

“meet me at the park.”

your heart races as you grab your jacket and head out, the cool night air biting at your skin as you walk to the park where you and sunghoon used to hang out.

it’s quiet when you arrive, the dim streetlights casting long shadows across the grass.

and there, sitting on a bench near the playground, is sunghoon.

he looks up when he sees you, his expression unreadable. you walk over slowly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“hey,” you say softly, sitting down next to him.

“hey,” he replies, his voice flat.

for a moment, neither of you says anything—the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything that’s been left unsaid. finally, you break the tension.

“i’m really sorry, hoon,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

sunghoon lets out a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“it’s not about hurting me. it’s about whether or not you actually want this with me.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “i do. i really do.”

he looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—truth, maybe. “then what’s the problem? why are you so afraid of just…being with me?”

you bite your lip, struggling to put your feelings into words. “it’s not that i don’t want to be with you. it’s just…everything with karina, and the rumors, and—”

“forget the rumors,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “forget karina for a second. this is about you and me. no one else. so what do you want?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

what do you want? the answer is so simple, yet so terrifying at the same time.

“i want you,” you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

sunghoon’s eyes soften, and for the first time in days, his expression relaxes.

he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “then have me—stop pushing me away.”

tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you nod, squeezing his hand tightly.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do it again. i promise.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on you for days lifts, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

things aren’t perfect, and you still have a lot to work through, but for the first time, you feel like you’re on the same page.

like maybe, this thing between you is real—and worth fighting for.

in the days that follow, things between you and sunghoon slowly begin to settle back into place, but there’s still a lingering sense of tension, like the calm before a storm.

you’re relieved that the two of you have talked things through, but the issues with karina—and your own guilt—haven’t magically disappeared.

you and sunghoon are careful around each other, more hesitant than before.

there’s still that spark, that undeniable chemistry, but the shadow of karina’s disappointment and the strain from the confrontation hang over everything.

and although sunghoon seems more open, there’s a subtle distance between you—like he’s holding something back, unsure if you’re really committed this time—protecting himself from a possible heartbreak.

it’s not until the night of the big game that things come to a head.

sunghoon has been talking about this game for weeks.

it’s the biggest one of the season, and the entire school is buzzing with excitement—you’ve never been much for sports, but you know how important it is to him, and even though part of you is still unsure about everything that’s happened, you want to be there for him.

you arrive at the stadium just as the game is about to start, the stands packed with students, teachers, and parents.

the energy in the air is buzzing with excitement, and you feel your nerves start to buzz as you scan the field for sunghoon.

he’s already out there, warming up with his team, looking confident and focused, like the whole world revolves around him in that moment.

a part of you can’t help but admire him.

he’s always been effortlessly good at everything—popular, athletic, the guy everyone wants to be.

and yet, despite that, he’s always been more than just the “jock” to you, he’s sunghoon—your friend, your fake boyfriend, and now…something more. something real.

but as you sit down in the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling in your chest.

you haven’t spoken to karina since that day in the hallway, and the thought of her finding out about you and sunghoon—about how things between you have changed—makes your stomach churn.

you’re still deep in thought when the game starts, the crowd erupting into cheers as the teams take the field.

you try to focus, but your mind keeps wandering back to karina, back to the conversation you had with her, and back to the guilt that’s been gnawing at you ever since.

the game is intense, and sunghoon is in his element, moving across the field with a kind of grace and power that’s impossible to ignore.

every time he scores, the crowd erupts in cheers, and you find yourself clapping along with everyone else, despite the turmoil in your heart.

but then, with just a few minutes left in the game, something happens.

one of the opposing players slams into sunghoon hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

the crowd gasps, and your heart leaps into your throat as you watch him lie there, unmoving.

for a moment, everything around you goes silent, and all you can focus on is sunghoon, lying on the field in pain.

you don’t even realize you’ve stood up until someone grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“he’s fine,” a voice says from beside you. “he’ll get up.”

but you can’t relax—your mind races with fear and worry as you watch the coach and the team trainer rush out to help him.

sunghoon slowly sits up, wincing as he moves, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. he’s hurt, but he’s okay.

still, watching him in pain stirs something inside you—something more than just concern for ‘a crush’.

it’s the realization that you care about him more deeply than you’ve allowed yourself to admit.

you’ve been holding back, too scared to fully commit, but now, seeing him like this, you know that you don’t want to lose him—not over karina, not over anything.

after the game, you wait for sunghoon outside the locker rooms, pacing nervously.

you’re still shaken from watching him get hurt, but there’s something else weighing on you now—something more urgent.

when sunghoon finally emerges from the locker room, he looks tired and a little worse for wear, but when he sees you standing there, a smile breaks across his face.

“hey,” he says, walking over to you with a slight limp. “you waited.”

“of course i did,” you say, trying to smile, but the worry in your voice betrays you. “are you okay?”

he shrugs, trying to play it off. “i’ll be fine. just a bad hit.”

you bite your lip, your eyes searching his face. “sunghoon… i’ve been thinking.”

he raises an eyebrow, looking slightly confused. “about what?”

“about us. about…everything.” you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i know i’ve been all over the place lately, and i know i’ve hurt you by not being clear about what i want. but i’ve realized something tonight.”

sunghoon watches you closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “and what’s that?”

you step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“i don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t matter—you matter to me, sunghoon. i always have—more than i’ve let myself admit. and i know things are complicated with karina, and the rumors, and everything else, but… i want to be with you. for real.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said too much, that maybe you’ve pushed him away for good this time.

but then, slowly, a smile spreads across sunghoon’s face.

“you mean that?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod, your eyes locked on his. “yeah. i do.”

sunghoon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that for weeks now.”

before you can respond, he steps forward, pulling you into his arms—his hands are warm against your back, and you can feel his heart beating against your chest as he holds you tightly, like he’s afraid to let go.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair. “not unless you want me to.”

you close your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder as relief washes over you. “i don’t want you to.”

the next day, you wake up feeling lighter than a feather, light— the same lightness you’d feel after binge watching all the harry potter movies with sunghoon back in the day, the same lightness after you two swore to stay best friends forever—the same lightness you felt as sunghoon and you went back-to-school shopping together for the first day of highschool—the lightness of sitting in the ice-cream booth together—like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

for the first time in weeks, you’re not filled with anxiety or doubt.

you’ve made your decision, and now you’re ready to move forward—with sunghoon, with whatever this relationship might bring.

but that doesn’t mean everything is resolved.

later that afternoon, you receive a text from karina.

“we need to talk.”

your stomach tightens as you read the message—you knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

you’ve been dreading it, but at the same time, you know it’s necessary.

you can’t keep avoiding her, and you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.

you meet karina at a quiet café on the edge of town, your heart pounding as you walk through the door.

she’s already there, sitting at a table near the window, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

when she sees you, she gives you a small nod, but there’s no warmth in her eyes.

you sit down across from her, your nerves jangling. “hey.”

“hey,” she replies, her voice unreadable.

for a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable.

you can tell that karina is still hurt, and you don’t blame her.

you’ve been avoiding her, too afraid to face the truth of what’s happened between you.

finally, karina breaks the silence.

“i saw you and sunghoon together last night. after the game.”

your heart skips a beat. “karina, i—”

“i’m not mad,” she interrupts, surprising you. “at least, not anymore. i’ve had time to think about it, and i’ve realized that… i can’t control what happens between you and him. it sucks, and it hurts, but i can’t keep holding onto something that’s already gone.”

you blink, taken aback by her honesty. “you’re not mad?”

she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “i mean, yeah, it hurts seeing you two together, but… i can’t keep being angry. it’s not fair to either of us.”

you stare at her, unsure of what to say—you’ve been bracing yourself for an argument, for karina to lash out at you, but instead, she’s…letting go. she’s accepting it.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

karina gives you a small, sad smile. “i know. and i believe you.”

for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of relief.

maybe things between you and karina will never go back to how they were, but at least you’re not leaving things unresolved—at least now, there’s a chance to heal.

the days that follow feel like a fresh start.

you and sunghoon grow closer, your relationship deepening as you finally let go of the doubts and fears that have been holding you back.

there are no more rumors, no more pretending. it’s just the two of you, and for the first time, that’s enough.

you still see karina from time to time, and though things are awkward at first, there’s a sense of understanding between you now.

she’s moving on, too, in her own way, and while your friendship may never be the same, you two are still trying your best to make the most out of it—to forgive and heal together.

one afternoon, as you and sunghoon sit together on the bleachers, watching the sunset after his practice, he turns to you with a grin.

“so,” he says, nudging you playfully. “are you ready to stop pretending we’re just fake dating?”

you laugh, leaning against his shoulder. “i think we’ve been past that point for a while now, hoon.”

he smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you “good. because i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you rest your head against him.

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—no more pretending, no more doubts.

just you and sunghoon, and the future ahead of you.

a few days later, it’s the championship game, and the energy in the stadium is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

the stands are packed with students, parents, and teachers, all buzzing with excitement as they watch the final moments of the game unfold.

the score is tied, and there’s only one minute left on the clock.

you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, next to karina your heart pounding in your chest as you watch sunghoon move across the field with lightning speed.

his eyes are locked on the ball, his focus razor-sharp, and you know—this is his moment.

this is what he’s been working toward all season.

“come on, sunghoon,” you whisper under your breath, your hands clenched into fists as you lean forward.

the crowd is on their feet, everyone holding their breath as sunghoon makes his move.

he dodges one defender, then another, running through the opposing team with ease—and then, with just seconds to spare, he takes the shot.

the ball soars through the air, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

everyone watches in stunned silence as the ball flies toward the goal…and lands perfectly in the back of the net.

the crowd erupts into cheers, the sound so loud it shakes the stadium, and you jump to your feet, screaming in excitement.

sunghoon has done it—he’s won the game.

on the field, his teammates rush toward him, lifting him up onto their shoulders as they celebrate their victory.

sunghoon is laughing, his face lit up with pure joy as he’s carried around the field—but even in the middle of all the chaos, his eyes are searching for something—or someone.

then, you see it—his gaze locks onto yours from across the field, and in that moment, it’s like no one else exists.

the cheers, the noise, the celebration—it all fades away as sunghoon looks at you, a wide smile spreading across his face.

you felt a soft nudge beside you, making you turn to face the girl who you’d been spending time with recently.

“babe—what are you waiting for? go!” she shouts excitedly making you run down the stands to congratulate sunghoon.

without a second thought, he jumps down from his teammates’ shoulders, running toward you with a determination that makes your heart race.

before you can even process what’s happening, he’s in front of you, sweeping you into his arms and lifting you off the ground.

you let out a startled laugh as he spins you around, your feet dangling in the air. “sunghoon, what are you doing?”

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he pulls you close and kisses you, his lips warm and soft against yours.

the world around you melts away, and all you can feel is him—his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath mingling with yours, the sheer joy radiating from him.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re supposed to be celebrating with your team, you know.”

sunghoon grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “i’d rather celebrate with you.”

you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he teases, setting you back down on the ground.

you playfully slap his arm, shaking your head. “go celebrate with your teammates. you earned this.”

but sunghoon just shrugs, pulling you closer. “they can wait. right now, i just want to be with my girlfriend.”

your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by how much you care about him.

this is real—so much more than the fake relationship you started with.

you’re no longer the girl from the beginning of highschool, locked in her room writing letters heartbroken at night.

now, standing here in the middle of a roaring crowd with sunghoon holding you like you’re the only person in the world, you realize just how far you’ve come together.

you smile, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing softly against his. “okay,” you whisper against his mouth. “but you better go back to them soon, or they’re going to start wondering where their star player went.”

sunghoon laughs, the sound warm and full of happiness. “fine. but don’t go anywhere. i’m not done celebrating with you yet.”

you laugh too, your heart light as you watch him jog back toward his teammates, the smile on his face never fading.

the crowd is still cheering, the excitement still there, but all you can focus on is the way sunghoon keeps glancing back at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

and in that moment, you know—you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

no more pretending, no more doubts. just you, sunghoon, and the love you’ve both fought so hard to find.

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @shawnyle @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism @wonsprincess @rikibwn @niawonn @nineooooo @onlyjjong @isa942572 @jiryunie @ikeulove @bunnihhoon @lucycarlisleswife @whateverhoon @coqhee @rkivesfilm @aanniikkaa @moon3verland @moon368 @httpenhoon @mimismenu @enhastolemyheart @wrongbathroom : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

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chocum · 5 months ago

Note

yea tattoo artist choso but .. what abt tattoo artist geto

congrats on 1k btw!

eee thank youuuu 🙈🙈 i’m souuurrr happy you requested geto bc i’ve been wanting to write abt other characters. AND THISS got out of hand lollll ( 1.5k ) idk what came over me i just word vomited all over my phone… & it’s unedited

— tattooartist!geto x reader // mentions of smoking, m masterbation, fleshlight, cum eating, kinda pervy geto idk he tells reader to take her shirt off when she doesn’t need to so, nipple play, v in p, mentions of overstim, creampiee

suguru geto is one of the most, if not the most popular tattoo artists in your area— hell, probably even farther than that. just to book an appointment, there’s a waitlist not including the months and months he’s already booked for. so when you finally get that confirmation email after waiting for what felt like years, you physically jump up, rushing to get ready and go to the parlor

“i don’t have anyone today under that name, sorry”

suguru pushes a strand of silk black hair behind his pierced ears, the dragon tattoo on his hand moving as he does so almost like it’s taunting you.

“what? i got an email today i just-” your hand reaches into your purse slacked over your shoulder to pull out your phone and prove your appointment was today, but when you go back to check, heat spreads across your cheeks faster than ever.

the date said next month

“ya had the right day i’ll give you that” and he’s laughing. not at you but because you’re cute, he thinks. pouting, growing hot from embarrassment. “i’ll tell you what..”

he leans in and you can smell the smoke that lingers on his breath mixing like some sort of love potion with his musky cologne, his pierced eyebrow quirking, browned eyes staring into yours with puffy lips wet from licking, “i can squeeze you in tomorrow. was supposed to have an off day but ill help a pretty girl like you out, how’s that sound?”

and you’ve never nodded faster. smile pulling at your glossed lips, drawing his to get trapped underneath his teeth.

“here i’ll give you my number, i’ll text you the time ‘n stuff later”

with that, you leave his parlor, your number scribbled on the back of some old receipt next to your name and a heart.

geto’s no better than a man. no better. he goes home that night and texts you as soon as he’s tucked into bed.

hey this is suguru btw.

your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and you smile at the notification. it almost felt unreal, someone who felt so unreachable, someone like geto in your phone, texting you first.

hey!

he catches himself smiling at the message too, his mind trailing back to seeing your pretty face when you walked into the parlor. the way you looked around doe-eyed like a little deer in headlights. looked innocent, and he liked that. maybe a little too much, his dick twitching against the fabric of his boxers.

he only talked to you for a few minutes. barely even held a conversation, but god did you look good. can’t blame him for getting like this.

what time is good for you? like i said, im supposed to be off but had no plans so any time is fine.

your thumbs dance across your keyboard as you think of what to say in response. you’re nervous. and if you knew he was jerking his cock, you’d be even more. his hand slowly .. very slowly rubbing his leaky tip, his head full, overflowing and bubbling with thoughts of you. what are you doing right now? are you in bed too? squeezing his warm balls, cupping them, teasing himself, imagining it’s your sweet little hands.

is 6 pm okay?

the little buzz drags him from his thoughts.

yea. see you then, pretty.

the simple little pet name makes you feel like you’re going to explode. so warm all over your body, and you wish you could just time travel to the next day and see him already.

geto brings the palm of his large hand to his face, lolling his tongue out to lick long stripes on it, shivering at the feeling of his own piercing before wrapping around the base of his thick cock, stroking himself only two times. this won’t do.

he reached for the pocket pussy he keeps nested deep in his drawer. leaning over to let spit fall and dribble into the clear toy before rubbing it on his tip.

groaning, “shiiiiittt” his hips bucking up as he slowly lets it sink down— body twitching at the feeling of all the little bumps and ridges massaging his sensitive cock.

“fu- fuck juuuust like that, mhhhm”

imagining he’s inside your tight little walls, squishing him like he’s meant for you, snug and tight like a puzzle piece.

his chest heaved with every snap of his wrist, spit sinking out and ringing out the base of his cock leaking down to his heavy balls, “feel so fucking good baby”

so fast he’s already shooting into the toy, whining because it’s not you. wishing it was you, your warm walls probably feel so much better. probably sound so cute taking him from behind or from the front, your eyes locked onto his.

he came so much it’s leaking all over himself. so messy and dirty and he brings the toy up and licks it all out, shoving his tongue inside the rubbery walls to flick and clean it up.

“shit”

the next day came too slowly. to you but especially to suguru. he went to the parlor an hour earlier to open and tidy up, pulling his raven locs into a ponytail, letting a few stray strands fall and frame his face, counting each and every second.

and then he hears it. the little ding as the door opens, you push it open smiling up at him as you walk through and you look even better than he remembered. and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure.

he nods at you, giving you a small smile, “so what did you want to get, and where?”

at your reply he freezes, his hands almost crumbling up the paperwork he reached for you to fill out — “my chest”

“your chest?”

he parrots you. then he repeats it in his head a few more times. picturing you pull your little top up.

he can tell you’re not wearing a bra with how your nipples perk up and poke through the flimsy, almost see-through fabric.

you nod your head, mhm sounding and bubbling past your lips.

god, you’re going to be the death of him.

after you finish with all the paperwork, he pulls you into the back making small talk asking about your day. and you indulge, asking back, finding comfort in the normality of your conversation. he’s different from what people painted him out to be and you felt relaxed in his presence.

even more when he offers you a seat, cleaning it off before slipping on some black gloves. his hands almost bulge out, his knuckles poking through the latex.

“can i see the design?”

you pull up the picture on your phone and he hums, “and you said your chest, right?”

again he repeats it, almost as if it’s a mantra he’s using to calm his nerves. calm his dick.

you just nod, “do i need to take my shirt off?”

and well no you don’t, not yet at least, but he says yes, reaching forward to do it for you because he’s just so sweet, right? so nice and caring, and welcoming.

and he only wraps his lips around your tits to soothe you, right? sucking, letting his teeth sink into the buds, the silver ball tracing over them. his other glove-clad hand cupping them.

sinks his cock into you just cause he wants to take care of you, right? he could tell you wanted it soo bad. your thighs pressing together so tightly when he pressed his lips against your chest with a soft, “suguru please”

“mhm let me take care of you, pretty girl, spread em, hold yourself open f��me— uh huh, juuust like that.”

your little arms shake and tremble, hooking around the back of your knees as he pushes into your tight cunt. and fuck, he was right. feels so much better than his toy.

“fuuuckk found your spot, baby, ‘s right there? yeah feel good right there?” he rolls his hips up, brushing against that spot, his thick tip kissing it, making your body twitch.

“yes— fuck yes feels so good”

right about you sounding so fucking good too— his cock twitching inside the solitude of your pretty slimy walls. shivering at how you suck and milk him so well, so tight and warm. so fucking warm. feels so good he’s already close, but he wants to keep making you feel good, keep hearing you, and if he was to fuck his cum into you, overstimulating his needy cock to do that, then so be it.

“inside” you whine out at how he twitches, his stokes sputtering and faltering as he languidly pushing into your sopping pussy, leaking all over him, so wet.

“ohh — fuck ohfuck” and it pushes him over the edge, bottoming out to overfill you, make you nice and creamy ‘cause you deserve it. deserve it for being so good, making him feel so good.

letting his head fall onto your shoulder sweat sprinkling his forehead as he empties himself for you. for your pretty pussy, all for you.

#ᝰ.ᐟ — so’s diary #geto suguru #jjk suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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love-belle · 1 year ago

Text

i'm glad whenever i can share her laughter !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they finally get their picture perfect ending that everyone was hoping for.

for when you have everything you ever wished for. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - this series is now officially done!!!! im soooo happy about how this turned out and i hope u enjoyed it as much as i did <33 thank u sm for reading, i love you <33

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 2,751,876 others

yourusername julianne marie leclerc-y/l/n 🤍

tagged charles_leclerc

15,628 comments

username OMG SHE'S HEREEEE

username GOING CRAZY RN WDYM THE BABY IS HERE

username JULIANNE 😭 MARIE 😭 LECLERC-Y/L/N 😭

lewishamilton missing baby j ❤️

-> yourusername she misses her uncle lew and brother roscoe ❤️

username SO ADORABLE ARE U KIDDING ME

lilymhe i'm kidnapping her idc

-> alex_albon yes please i miss her already

-> yourusername no bc im pretty sure she loves u both more than her actual PARENTS

landonorris can i come over

-> yourusername u JUST left

-> landonorris CAN I COME OVER

-> yourusername ok

charles_leclerc mon ange 😘 ( my angel )

-> yourusername ❤️

charles_leclerc thank you for everything mon amour ( my love )

-> yourusername thank YOU for everything i love u sooooosososo bad

username i feel like such a proud parent it's INSANE

username IM CRYING OMG

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,699,896 others

charles_leclerc it should be noted that she asked for her "mamamamama" a few thousand times and now i'm taking her with me to where ever

tagged yourusername

14,885 comments

username MAMAMAMAMA PLEASE

username she's a mama's girl fr

username JULIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

danielricciardo baby julie owns my heart

-> heidiberger_ mine too 🤍

-> charles_leclerc where was this heart owning when she was screaming her head off in the middle of the night and you both suddenly had a "fever"

-> username PLEASE HE PULLED OUT THE RECEIPTS

-> username he's really done with everyone

maxverstappen1 p wants to meet her best friend. again. please.

-> charles_leclerc can we exchange?

-> maxverstappen1 yes

-> kellypiquet no (you are more than welcome to leave baby j with us anytime ☺️)

-> yourusername no (I MISS P PLEASE COME OVER)

-> charles_leclerc ONE CHILD IS ENOUGH

-> maxverstappen1 exactly what he said

username i love watching charles realise that having a baby is SO much more than js buying cute clothes and playing with toys

-> yourusername i know he's so shocked

yourusername MY BABY 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

-> charles_leclerc she's coming with me

yourusername bring her back asap i wanna hug her

-> charles_leclerc oh so suddenly i'm not enough?

yourusername u didn't hear this from me but she couldn't sleep without her red ferrari plushie last week when u were in maranello

-> charles_leclerc so now you're making me cry. great.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,657,246 others

charles_leclerc i'm glad whenever i can share her laughter

tagged yourusername

15,172 comments

username WHY IS SHE GROWING UP SO FAST

username oh please no im not ready to see baby j grow up

leclerc_pascale bébé ❤️❤️❤️ ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc she misses her grand-mère❤️ ( grandmother )

carlossainz55 please stop blasting slipping through my fingers. it's 3am.

-> charles_leclerc she pulled herself up today YOU DON'T GET IT

-> username oh this man's gonna be in shambles when she starts walking

landonorris time needs to stay still, thank you.

-> charles_leclerc exactly 💯

yourusername babe she's literally 10 months old

-> charles_leclerc soon she'll be 10 years old and going to school and not wanting to hang out with me 🙁

yourusername STOP CRYING I CAN HEAR YOU FROM NEXT DOOR

-> charles_leclerc I'M NOT IT'S LANDO

-> landonorris I MISS BABY J

yourusername she misses her papa, come back

-> charles_leclerc yes ❤️❤️❤️ let me just console lando and we'll join you

username lando is so me

3K notes · View notes

eunoiaastralwings · 11 months ago

Text

The Marriage Certificate

featuring bucky x wife!reader with their son

fandom mcu- tfatws era

a/n read alone - follow the James Bucky Jr / James 'Jay' Steven Barnes tag if you like more : mini series masterlist

warnings crack fluff but I blame @incorrectmarvelquotesss for this - at is all am saying XD - and dont try this at home kids ;D Baby Jay being a cutie to melt your hearts is a warning too

You were currently organizing all your documents in order – it was something you were putting off for so long, but now you finally pulled out all of them to organize them into files and statements.

They were piled across yours and Bucky’s bed. There was every thing there – except for your marriage certificate.

“Bucky?”

You called for your husband – who was in the living room or out in the back yard with your 2-month son.

You got up looking for your husband and baby.

“Bucky, honey? Have you seen. . .our. . .marriage. . . certificate. . .?”

Your eyes widened and bewildered – seeing Bucky just casually burning their marriage certificate on the barbeque outside as their 2-month laid on the play mat.

“BUCKY!”

Bucky flinches at your sudden exclamation – and looks up with frown.

He looks at his wife and the baby, then looks back at the barbecue, then back to his wife.

“What? – What’s the big deal? A piece of paper?”

Bucky shrugs.

“THAT’S OUR MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE YOU DUMBO!”

“So? – It means nothing. It’s just a piece of paper saying that I’m ‘yours’ or whatever.”

Bucky looks up at you again – a bit amused now.

Your jaw dropped as you looked from Bucky to your 2-month son who was blissfully unaware of what was happening, as he just laid on the play mate cooing, seemingly happy for the time being.

You had named your son James Steven Barnes together, after Bucky’s first name of James and of course Steve, or Cap’s name for his middle name– but you took the liberty of nicknaming your son Jay – while you were at it too.

“And how are you doing to prove to others we are married!?"

You asked incredulously.

“Why do we need to prove it to other people?”

Bucky looks at his wife again, utterly mystified.

“Does it matter? We know that we’re married. What do other people have to do with it?”

He said to you.

You facepalmed.

“Good Lord. . .”

You said but then tries to grab the reminder of the certificate.

“Either you’re incredibly dumb or I married a child!”

You said – even though technically speaking he was about 106 years old.

Bucky steps closer to you and taking the smoking remnants of the marriage certificate out of your hands, throwing it into the flames.

“We know we’re married, that’s enough. And if it matters that much – we can go get another copy at the courthouse or something. But let’s face it. . .you’d never divorce me, so good luck trying to return me without the receipt.”

He shrugged – as if were that casual.

“I wasn’t trying to divorce you.”

You rolled her eyes

“We have a child.”

You added – going over to Jay, who started to cry for attention and picked the tiny 2-month baby up into her arms.

Bucky follows you – watching you hold his and your son, and smiles for a moment. The baby seems so tiny and happy your arms.

“And that means we need to keep this stupid piece of paper?”

You roll your eyes.

“It’s not a stupid piece of paper Bucky and yes we need.”

Well, whatever was left of it...

Bucky wanted to respond but he got soon was in just awe watching his son and wife interact.

He watches with a soft smile as she cooed and kissed Jay’s tiny little nose.

Bucky gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You giggled smiled up at your husband and pecked his lips – then giggling more as Jay coos and chortles a few giggles, as he tried to kiss your cheek.

Bucky laughs at Jay's cuteness.

“He’s trying to kiss you, doll.”

He says – gently scooping Jay into his arms then leaned his little face closer to your cheek.

“Hey is my baby trying to kiss mommy?”

You cooed to your little 2-month baby leaning your cheek towards him.

They baby cooed chortling a few giggles, his mouth pressed to your cheek, not quite learned how to pucker his lips for a kiss yet but it was more than enough.

“Oh, I love you – you little munchkin!”

You cooed and kisses Jay’s cheek.

Bucky smiles – watching them interact happily.

“Isn'’t he just the sweetest little boy you’ve ever seen? No wonder we named him after the best man in the world.”

Bucky smirks; at the mention of Jay’s namesake, Bucky gives his wife a more passionate kiss, trying to catch his wife off guard.

You let out a quiet surprised yelp – giggling as you kiss your husband back. Jay did the same – his face and lips pressed to your cheek – but as if trying to eat you more like it.

Bucky wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him.

He gives Jay a little kiss on the head before turning his attention back to his wife – letting out a happy laughter and playfully biting her bottom lip.

“Did I finally manage to catch you off guard, love?”

“Bucky!”

You giggle blushing shaking her head and swatting his shoulder.

Bucky chuckles as he gets swatted.

“Worth a shot!”

He says to you with a smile – then looks over at Jay, who had stopped trying to kiss you and had gone back to babbling and squealing like a typical 2-month-old baby.

“Looks like someone is distracted from our romantic moment.”

Bucky says to you with a grin.

You smile at your baby.

Before soon, Jay tries to grab your hair and eat it.

“Oh no, you don't! Mommy’s hair is not for eating!”

You gently chide him.

Bucky laughs. He looks at Jay’s tiny little fingers wrapped around your hair.

“He sure likes that hair of yours, doll.”

He teases you.

“Can’t even leave you alone for one second. Just like me!”

Bucky smirks winking at his wife as you roll your eyes with a smile and gently tries to take your hair off his tiny hand.

Bucky let out a soft content sigh and presses another kiss Jay’s tiny head.

459 notes · View notes

thedensworld · 2 months ago

Text

Skinny Dipping | C. Hs

Genre: angst, fluff, exes au!

Summary: it'll be so nice if you and Hansol could have a little chat about both of your life, forgetting things that had hurted. Right?

Author note: i hurt myself mentally while writing this *cry cry*

Hansol is doing his routine check-up at the café he opened last month, the newest addition to his chain. He greets everyone at the counter with a friendly smile, his familiar energy filling the space before he heads toward the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asks the cook, his tone light and teasing. The cook hums in agreement, adding that it’s quickly becoming the café’s top seller.

Hansol grins—it’s someone’s favorite too, someone who used to occupy his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. He hasn’t thought about her in a while. Until now.

He approaches his barista, Seungkwan, who’s busy wiping down the counter. “How’s everything going?” Hansol asks casually.

Seungkwan lets out an exaggerated groan, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s been chaos since lunch. I swear, I’ve barely had a minute to sit down.”

Hansol chuckles, reaching for an apron. “Let me jump in and help.”

Seungkwan glances at him with a raised brow. “Finished all your other work already? You know, the important boss stuff?”

Hansol nods, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here—besides, I’ve got a meeting with a client at four, so I’ve got time.”

He moves behind the counter just as the system dings with a new order. Hansol instinctively grabs the ticket, scanning it. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...”

His voice falters, his heart stuttering when he reads the name on the receipt. He blinks, staring at it as if it’s mocking him. It’s a name he knows all too well, a name that sends a flood of memories rushing back to him all at once.

“For Y/N.”

His head snaps up, scanning the café as if to confirm it’s really happening. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, looking up from your phone just as your name is called. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him, the same recognition flashing across your face.

It’s been years, but it feels like no time at all. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. Hansol’s heart races as his thoughts spiral—out of all the cafés in the city, you’ve walked into his. Fate had a funny way of playing games, didn’t it?

You slowly stand, making your way to the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. “Hi...” you greet softly, your voice like a distant echo of the past.

Hansol hadn’t expected you to speak first. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool despite the way his chest tightens. “Hey... nice to see you here,” he replies, though his voice betrays the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He forces a smile, but it’s impossible to ignore the awkwardness hovering between you.

“How have you been? Do you... work here?” you ask, your gaze flicking to the café, and then back to him.

Before you can reach for your order, Hansol swiftly pulls the tray toward him. “I’ll bring it to your table,” he says, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Please, sit.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his insistence, but you offer a small nod before returning to your seat. Hansol busies himself with preparing your latte, though his hands feel unsteady, the sudden rush of old feelings catching him off guard. He carries the tray to your table and sets your order down carefully, just like he used to when you’d meet him after class back in college.

You mumble a quiet “thank you,” already refocusing on your laptop, just like the old days. The sight of you so focused and serene tugs at something deep within him.

“Working from here?” Hansol asks, lingering by your table, unable to walk away just yet.

You nod, glancing up. “Yeah, just finishing up some papers before class… at four.”

Hansol bites his lip, trying to find his footing in this strange but familiar reunion. “I’m doing great, by the way. You asked,” he says with a small smile, gesturing around the café. “Just opened this place last month.”

Your eyes wander around, taking in the cozy space, the warm light filtering through the windows. “It’s really nice,” you reply with a genuine smile, a hint of admiration in your voice. “Congratulations.”

Hansol feels his heart flutter at your smile—one he had missed more than he’d realized. You glance at the seat across from you and, after a beat, gesture to it. “Do you want to sit?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding into the chair across from you, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickens.

“How have you been? And Mingyu? Last I heard he moved…” Hansol’s voice trails off, leaving space for you to fill in the details.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve been good. Just busy with work and school. Mingyu? He’s married now, actually. Living in Hawaii with his family.”

Hansol’s eyes widen at the mention of your brother. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Married and in Hawaii... I always figured he’d end up somewhere sunny and laid back.”

You smile fondly at the memory of your brother. “Yeah, he’s always been like that.”

The conversation flows easily, as if the years hadn’t separated you at all. You talk about the little things—work, school, mutual friends—and for a brief moment, it’s like no time has passed. But there’s still something lingering between you, unspoken yet unmistakably present.

Just as you’re settling into the rhythm of catching up, Seungkwan calls out from behind the counter. “Boss… you’re needed!”

Hansol glances back, sighing softly. “Duty calls,” he mutters, standing from the table.

You gather your things as well, closing your laptop. “Yeah, I should get going too. I’ve got class soon.”

For a moment, there’s an awkward pause, like neither of you wants to let go of this unexpected reunion. Hansol hesitates, then glances back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “It was really nice meeting you again. We should do this again. On purpose, sometimes.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time in years, there’s a spark—small but unmistakable. “Sure,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

Hansol feels a surge of excitement rush through him, and he can’t help but smile back. With a quick goodbye, he heads back to the counter, his heart still pounding in his chest. But even as he walks away, there’s a warmth blooming inside him, a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end of your story.

As he ties his apron back on, he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. After all these years, fate had brought you back into his life. And Hansol couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning.

You stepped into the garage-turned-studio, the familiar hum of instruments that usually calmed you now replaced by an unnerving silence. The tension in the air was palpable. Hansol stood there, his bass hanging loosely from his hands, while Chan hovered near his drum kit, avoiding eye contact. The moment you walked in, all eyes shifted to you, and you immediately knew—you’d come at the worst possible time.

“Let’s call it a day,” Seungcheol, the band’s guitarist and leader, muttered under his breath. He put his guitar down gently, though the gesture felt heavy with finality. Without a word, the rest of the band followed suit, leaving the studio one by one. You watched as they filed out, and your stomach twisted when you realized you and Hansol were now alone.

You had come here to release some of your own stress—an exhausting day of exams had left you drained, and you had hoped Hansol might distract you. But as soon as you met his eyes, dark with frustration, you knew something was terribly wrong.

“Did you say something to Chan about me leaving the band?” Hansol asked, his voice low but sharp, every word cutting through the silence. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting to you with a mix of disbelief and anger.

You froze, caught off guard by the accusation. “What? No, I didn’t—” you started, but then paused, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest as you remembered. “Wait, I... I did mention to Jinah that you might have to leave the music scene eventually... you know, because of the family business and all. But it wasn’t serious, Hansol. I didn’t think it would turn into... this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into something more pained than amused. “Well, it did. It’s not just some hobby, Y/N. Music is everything to me. It’s how I breathe, how I escape... And now they think I’m bailing. They’re replacing me.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Replacing you? Without even talking to you first?”

Hansol ripped the jack from his bass, the sound jarring in the tense space. He threw it to the ground, the clatter echoing through the empty studio. “Yeah, because they heard I was leaving—from a certain someone.”

His words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’re blaming me?” Your voice shook, a mixture of hurt and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “All I did was make an offhand comment. You’re not actually leaving the band, Hansol. Just tell them that, and this will blow over.”

But Hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get it. They’ve already made up their minds. They’ve moved on. I’ve been replaced, and it’s because of you.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his words hit you. “Hansol, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was just—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “This is what you always do. You think you know what’s best for me, that you can speak for me, but you don’t know shit. You’ve never understood what music means to me. You only care about my studies, my future in the family business. That’s what matters to you, right?”

His words pierced through you, the sting of them so deep that you struggled to breathe. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you. I’ve always supported you.”

Hansol laughed, but there was no joy in it—just bitterness. “Supported me? All you’ve ever done is try to push me into the future you want for me. You’ve never believed in my music. You’ve never believed in me.”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Hansol, that’s not true. I—”

“Spare me,” he snapped, his voice hard. “You don’t get it. They’ve already replaced me. I’m out. And it’s all because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Because you had to go running off to Jinah, acting like you know everything about me.”

Tears burned your eyes now, and this time you couldn’t stop them from falling. “Hansol, I didn’t mean to cause this,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I just... I didn’t think it would get this far.”

“Well, it did,” he shot back, his eyes cold. “And now I’ve lost everything. The band was all I had, and now I’m nothing. Thanks to you.”

Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as you wiped at your eyes, but it was no use. His words cut too deep, tearing through everything you thought you understood about your relationship. “You’re really blaming me for all of this?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You think this is my fault?”

Hansol stepped closer, his face hard and unyielding. “Yeah, I do. Because you always think you can fix everything, like you’re in control. But you’re not. And now I’m paying the price.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, the boy you once knew now feeling like a stranger. His words had shattered something inside you, and the pain was almost unbearable. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

But Hansol just turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” he muttered. “All I know is I’m done. Done with the band, done with everything...”

His voice trailed off, and you felt the last thread of hope between you unravel. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold yourself together, but it was no use. “Go fuck yourself, Hansol,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the hurt and anger you’d been holding back.

And then you turned and walked out of the studio, the door slamming shut behind you. But even as you left, the ache of his words stayed with you, cutting deeper than any argument you’d ever had. The boy who once felt like your world was now a stranger, and you weren’t sure if you could ever find your way back to him.

Hansol was doing his routine check-up at the café he had opened last month. He greeted everyone at the counter with his usual friendly smile before making his way to the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asked the cook. They hummed in agreement, mentioning that it was quickly becoming everyone’s favorite.

Hansol grinned—it had always been someone’s favorite too, someone he hadn’t thought about in a while.

He approached his barista, Seungkwan, and asked, “How are things going?”

“It’s been chaotic since lunch. I swear, I just want to sit down,” Seungkwan groaned dramatically, wiping his forehead.

Hansol chuckled, grabbing an extra apron. “I’ll jump in and help.”

“Finished all your work?” Seungkwan asked, referring to Hansol’s duties managing his chain of cafés. Opening one in such a busy area had been a smart move, and Hansol knew it.

“Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here,” Hansol replied, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with a client at four.”

Just then, an order popped up on the screen. Hansol moved behind the counter to take a look. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...” His voice trailed off, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at the name on the receipt, feeling a rush of memories flooding back.

It was a familiar name. The perfect order.

“For Y/N.”

His gaze lifted from the screen to the café, and there you were, looking up from your phone toward the counter. Your eyes widened slightly in recognition, and Hansol’s mind raced—of all the cafés in this city, you had walked into his.

You stood from your table and slowly approached the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. Hansol felt frozen, unsure of what to say or how to act. Years had passed, but in that moment, it felt like no time had gone by at all.

“Thanks,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact as you took your order from the counter.

Hansol’s chest tightened as he watched you walk back to your table, quickly gathering your things. You were already clearing your desk before he could muster the courage to say anything more. The moment had slipped through his fingers, just like that.

As you walked out of the café, Hansol’s heart sank. There had been so much left unsaid, so many things he wanted to ask, but now, all he could do was watch as the door closed behind you.

The weight of lost time and missed chances hung in the air, and as he stood behind the counter, Hansol couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter had reopened old wounds—wounds he had thought had healed long ago. But seeing you again, even for just a fleeting moment, reminded him that some things could never be forgotten. Some people left marks too deep to erase.

We've been swimming on the edge of a cliff

I'm resistant, but going down with the ship

It'd be so nice, right? Right?

If we could take it all off and just exist

And skinny dip in water under the bridge

Skinny Dipping - Sabrina Carpenter

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #densworld🌼#seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #vernon fanfic #vernon angst #vernon fluff #seventeen hansol #hansol fluff #hansol angst #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #hansol imagines

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hellfirenacht · 7 months ago

Text

Meet Me At 4:20

Summary: It’s hard to be the new kid in a small town during senior year, and there’s only one person you actually want to be friends with. So you do the only logical thing, and set up a drug deal.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, SFW, drug deals, meet cute, one shot

Notes: Thank you, @jo-harrington for helping me title this <3 If you read the original version I posted last fall, no you didn't.

Word Count: 2.3k words

Master List

You sat at the old picnic table, far away from the school. It was a quiet and mild autumn day, leaves were clinging to the trees and there was a satisfying crunch to the ground when you made your way through the woods.

You counted each breath in and out in counts of four. It wasn’t the drugs that you were planning on buying that made you nervous, but the man selling them. It felt so stupid, this whole plan was completely ridiculous but at this time you didn’t have any better idea to go off of.

You didn’t even like weed.

Your eyes closed and you played a cassette tape at a low volume, muffled sounds of music pulsating through your ears. If you could focus on this, then you could relax. You could talk to Eddie. You were sure that you could do it this time. You hoped you could do it.

The faint crackling of leaves crunching under footsteps alerted you to his presence. You kept your eyes closed and your breathing steady, not daring to open your eyes yet. The last thing you wanted was for Eddie to see you a shaking mess, anxious and stuttering and probably tweaking.

“Hello?”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking up at the man in front of you. Eddie watched you with a look of mild confusion, his hand dropping to his side as if he had been waving it in an attempt to get your attention. You removed your headphones and gave a small smile.

“Hey, sorry. Long day.” you said, only stumbling over your words a little.

“I get it.” Eddie said, taking a seat across from you on the table. His black lunchbox thumped down in front of him, and he looked at you expectantly.

“So… how does this work here?” you asked. looking between him and the lunchbox. This was the most you had dared look at him since you moved to Hawkins a few weeks ago.. Having his attention, his eyes on yours, almost felt like too much. You couldn’t stop the nervous smile from spreading across your face, and you wished that you could just keep yourself normal for two minutes.

“The same way any normal transaction goes.” Eddie shrugged. “Except cash only, no returns, and for obvious reasons… no receipts.”

“I guess that means no demanding to speak to the manager then?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. To your surprise, Eddie gave a small laugh and seemed to relax just a bit.

“Demand all you want, he’ll tell you all sales are final.” He opened the box and pulled out a bag. “I got a half ounce here. $25. Should last you a while.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” You said, pulling out your wallet and pulling out some cash to hand over.

“Want to smell it first?” Eddie looked at you with a head tilt. Fuck, had you already blown it? Was that something you were supposed to do? You froze, and Eddie let out a snort. “You’ve never done this have you?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not even once.” You admitted. There was no use in pretending otherwise. The only reason you had even set this meeting up was just an elaborate (and expensive) way to meet the only person in Hawkins you had any interest in talking to.

Ever since moving here, you weren’t a fan of the town or the people around you. You were sure that your new school would be the same and you had planned on fading into the background for the few months that you had to be here for your senior year. Who was going to want to make friends with the new girl during senior year in a small town? Cliques had been formed and no one would be wanting to add to their numbers this late in the game. Not when everyone else was going to be leaving after high school.

But Eddie had captured your attention the very first day when he’d been running around his lunch table and laughing with his friends.

“It’s not a normal thing, it’s a me thing.” Eddie tossed you the bag, not taking the money yet. “Give it a smell.”

You didn’t want to smell the bag. You really did not want to, but Eddie’s was looking at you, and his eyes were so big and round and he ASKED you to do something so…

Your face scrunched up involuntarily and you pulled your head back at the stench. “Ah. Yes. That is certainly weed. Glad to have that established.” you deadpanned.

“It’s not oregano.” Eddie confirmed, looking amused at your reaction.

“The fuck you mean it’s not?” You laughed. “Here I was thinking that I was going to be buying the best Italian seasoning on the market and here I am with a bag of weed. I feel ripped off!”

Satisfied, Eddie took the money that you had left on the table and pocketed it. “Sorry, like I said, no refunds.”

You followed suit and stuffed the bag into another bag, which was then shoved into yet another bag that had your gym clothes. Can’t be too careful.

You assumed that Eddie would turn tail and leave but instead he picked up a lighter and a cigarette from his lunchbox.

“You sit at my table at lunch.” It wasn’t a question, but a truth. Eddie had noticed you sitting there. Then again, after the roach incident…

“It’s easier to sit in the same place every day.” You said as you nervously picked at the wood on the table. “You learn what to expect.”

“And what do you expect from our table?” Eddie took a drag and offered you the cigarette. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head in a polite no. “A freakshow?”

“More bugs, but less people bugging me.” you shrugged.

Eddie snorted. “We still give Jeff shit about that.”

“Yeah well, I’d still rather sit there than anywhere else.” You swallowed. “This may come as a surprise to you, Eddie, but people here kind of suck and aren’t the most friendly.”

“So, you’d rather be seen near the freaks than associating with any other group? That’s brave.” Eddie looked you over. “I’m surprised someone like you eats in the cafeteria. I’ve never seen you talk to anyone else. Most people find a classroom to eat in if they don’t have friends.”

You stared blankly at him. “Gee. Thanks for the reminder.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as he realized what he just said. “Wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re not wrong.” you sighed, now wishing that you could have a drag of his cigarette. Maybe then you’d look interesting and mysterious instead of how you actually felt, which was awkward and annoyed. You knew you didn’t have friends here, but that didn’t mean he needed to point that out.

By a technicality, the Freak was more popular than you, and now you had spent $25 in an attempt to be his friend and he might not even be interested. You were starting to regret this whole stupid plan.

“You know you…. if you wanted to. You don’t have to sit near us.” Eddie looked up, and saw you deflate instantly. Eddie sat up straighter “No, not like that, I mean. You could sit with us instead. We can make room, and I swear we won’t throw anymore bugs at you.”

Eddie took another drag of the cigarette, shifting so that the second hand smoke didn’t hit you in the face. It was appreciated.

“Really? I mean, are you sure? Would the others be alright with that…?” You asked, perking up more excitedly than you meant to.

“They learned to live with Mike and Dustin, they’ll learn to like you.” Eddie gave a grin. “Besides, Hellfire needs more members if they’re gonna beat my campaign.”

“The Cult of Vecna.” You said and Eddie narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. “Don’t give me that look, Eddie, you guys are loud. It’s not eavesdropping when you’re standing on the table with your shoes right next to my sandwich yelling about your game.”

“So you’ll join us then?” Eddie’s grin widened.

“How much for a shirt?” You shivered as the wind blew around you. “I… I might need help character creating as well. It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

Eddie slammed his hands on the table, laughing. “I knew it! I knew you were one of us. Gareth owes me $5.”

“You made a bet about this??”

“I’ve only known two other girls that play. Sinclair’s sister who’s still in middle school and Ronnie Ecker who graduated 2 years ago.” Eddie said. He was so energized now and his eyes were bright, the late afternoon sun reflecting warm caramel and gold back at you. “I saw you with that D&D book yesterday but they didn’t believe me.”

You looked at him, sighed and reached into your bag and pulled out the book that had given you away. You really had never meant to be seen with it, you’d just needed a refresher. You had played at your old school, but hadn’t had a chance to in about a year.

Eddie reached for the old module and flipped through the adventure. “Tomb of Horrors.” he said approvingly. “We played this one last year with a few tweaks, of course. What’s your level?”

“I… don’t really have much of one.” You admitted. “Back with my old group we would just make characters for whatever suited the campaign. I usually went with some flavor of half-elf bard or ranger though.”

“The others would call that cheating. Most everyone has played with the same character from level 1 for the past few years.” Eddie said. “You’d have to work to keep up with us.”

“So I’d have to start at level 1?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Damn, you are a sadistic DM aren’t you?”

“I’m the mean and scary freak of Hawkins High,” Eddie took a final drag of his cigarette. “It’s my job.”

“You’ve been nicer to me than anyone here so far, Eddie.” You admitted

Eddie looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You swallowed, unable to look away and wondering if you had said something wrong.

“What?” You finally said.

“You’ve never bought drugs before.” Eddie said.

“….Yes. We established this.” You replied.

“Have you ever even smoked before?”

You frowned. “….Hm, no comment. I don’t think I want to answer that.”

“So that’s a no.” Eddie looked at the bag where you had stored your goods. “So why are you buying?”

You had two reasons for buying, the main reason was to give yourself a reason- any reason- to talk to him. There was a second reason though, one that you hadn’t wanted to get into but…

“I… haven’t been doing a great job of adjusting here.” You said picking at the grain of the wood of the table. “I won’t bore you with the details but… I’ve been having trouble sleeping and everything I eat just tastes like sawdust and I can’t get hungry. I was hoping this would help.”

“Do you know how to roll?”

You slumped slightly, looking down. “Eddie, I’ve never even smoked a cigarette.”

“You’re really coming in blind, huh?” there was a laughter in his voice though that made you feel less judged. “You live in Happy Forest Trailer Park. Yeah, I’ve seen you down the street circling your trailer late at night.”

“Ah. Lovely. Nice to know my night walks have been witnessed.” You groaned.

“Don’t worry, you’re still the least sketchy person there.” Eddie waived his hand. “I don’t normally do this, but you clearly need help. If you want, I’ll come over and roll for you and teach you how to smoke.”

“I feel like if you were anyone else I’d tell you to fuck off.” You said. “But, like I said, you’re the only person who’s been actively nice to me and I really can’t afford to say no. I’m… too damn tired.”

“Tonight?” Eddie offered. “We can help you put together a character.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest now. He wanted to come over to your house tonight? This plan was already going wildly off the rails but there was no stopping it.

“Okay.”

Eddie handed over his cigarette to you and you stared at it. “Just take a drag and show me where you’re at.”

You flinched, holding the cigarette in your fingers. You’d seen people smoke your whole life and the smell of it filled your memories with car rides, and heavy talks and… screaming.

“I can’t.” You said after a moment handing it back. “Sorry. I know it’s stupid. Weed is one thing but-”

“Hey, no need to explain.” Eddie said, snuffing it out. “I don’t know what just happened but don’t worry about it.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

Eddie looked at his watch. “I have to meet up with someone else. Go home, I’ll be there tonight.” He closed his lunchbox and stood up and you followed suit.

“I’ll be home all night.” You said. “Thank you, by the way. For all of this. I hope it helps.”

Eddie chuckled. “Not many people stick around and talk to me after, let alone thank me. They usually take what they bought and run.”

“Sit with us on Monday.” Eddie said. “I’ll come over tonight.” He was sparing you from saying what you wanted to say; that you wanted so badly to be friends with them.

“I wanted to talk to you.” You admitted, and Eddie looked surprised. “I mean, I don’t have anyone here in Hawkins. Like anyone. And, I don’t know, I like hearing you and your friends talk at lunch and you all seem to actually like each other so… I…”

“Tonight.” You nodded.

The two of you parted ways, Eddie taking a separate way out of the woods while you headed towards the parking lot.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

Text

epilogue. she might just be my everything and beyond

javier peña x f!reader | epilogue of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: here's the epilogue. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. mention of olivia (steve's and connie's child) ✨ wordcount: 2.7k.

an: at the end.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

you keep flirting with me and ill drive myself over

Oh will you now?

use my key and everything

You have had very little reason to use it lately.

thats cause youre so desperate youre already at the door

Desperate or welcoming?

both

I can be less desperate next time, if you prefer.

dont you fucking dare baby

So when you coming over?

already putting my shoes on

It flies by, time.

One minute, he’s clutching your hands until your fingers slide from his. A promise in the air, one he knows you’ll keep because it's all temporary. Knowing that you’ll be right back, suitcase—and possessions following behind—as you move across the country.

Within a blink, Javi is asking you where you want things to go, in the little place you chose with so much ease. Spotting you unpack a photo frame, the photo strip from Houston front and centre, sitting on a bed of receipts.

The next, he’s sweating for reasons he’d rather not be.

His back twinging, protesting as he carries another box to the van. Your smile rises at the sight of him approaching, gesturing to pass it to you—still standing on the edge of the truck.

“Cariño. You’ve lived here six months. How have you amassed so much sh–tuff?”

Narrowing your eyes, taking the box and placing it on top of another, “Nice save.”

Sending you a sink, he smiles as you slide your hand in his to get down. Knowing he doesn’t ever need to feel them slide from his again—hopefully, no emotional goodbyes at the airport. Not ones that don’t involve you visiting someone for a long weekend here or there.

“Are you forgetting that I packed an entire suitcase the first time I saw you? Because knowing that information, I am surprised you’re confused that I’ve doubled my possessions since living here?”

Pulling you close, he focuses on how you feel warm against him—fitting against him perfectly. A feeling he’s had plenty of time to grow used to but finds he never does. How you slot with him, face turned upwards, looking at him like he moves mountains and walks across fire.

If you asked him, he would.

But you never do. You just look at him as though you know he would. Knowing he does.

He supposes it’s why you’re all set to move in with him. Into his home. His room.

This place—as lovely as it has been—will no longer be yours. The little home in the centre of town is tucked away above a video store that you’ve become a frequent customer of, whether he has plans with you or not.

From tomorrow morning, though, you’ll be waking up with him officially. The two of you have had months of it, where you’re there but not entirely with him. Even if, over time, your things have been left amongst his, some even finding themselves hanging alongside his. To the point a drawer was needed—and hangers. Still, for a while, when you said home, you had meant yours.

That was until the last few weeks. Your eyes shimmering, twinkling with the stars in the night sky, curled into his side. His green jacket, the one with the brown collar, wrapped around your shoulders, no longer smelled of old cigarette smoke and desperation but rather sweetness and hope. Your hand entwined with his:

Can we go home, baby?

Yeah, I can take you now.

No, to yours.

You poke him. Light, but purposeful. A little jab to bring him back, and the way you’re smiling at him—fuck. He can’t imagine a look that could make his heart double in size quicker. His thumb strokes alongside your cheek. His pink shirt—the one you had commandeered as your own—rolled up at the sleeves and tied at your waist.

Javi’s noticed you steal his clothes a lot. Fashion them into something that suits you better. He doesn’t moan. If anything, he makes it a purposeful thing to show you how much it means to him—how much he likes it, craves it.

“C’mon, only a few more boxes...”

Groaning, he buries his lips against yours, feeling your smile widen, grinning widely against him as you hold him close.

Your teeth pull at his bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, a twinkle to your eyes. “… think of it like this: once the van is packed, we get more time to say goodbye before I have to return the keys.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, keeping you in place with two fingers under your chin. “And how do you plan on us saying goodbye, baby?”

Sliding your nose against his cheek. “Loudly. I plan on saying it loud, baby.”

You packed me a note in my lunch?

I did

It wasn’t very safe for work.

you said you eat your lunch at your desk

Yes but I’m not a loner, Javi. I do eat lunch with people.

lesson learned then baby

But yes.

yeah?

I don’t think the porch table will cope though, may have to think of a more stable surface.

I think I can think of something

No wood! I am not having you pick splinters out of my ass again, baby.

that was on you

I think it was on you and your speech about how beautiful I looked being a ranch-hand.

Do you fancy coming to my office Halloween party?

do I have to dress up

Yes. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be dressed up too.

before I decide what are you dressing up as

That’s the incentive to come, if you say yes I’ll tell you.

do you want me there

Yes! Want to show you off

then ill be there baby

Because you like being showed off?

yes. but also because you want me there

While outwardly, he’d protested the trip to Miami from the moment you booked it off work up until he was sat beside you on the plane, he does see the beauty in it.

Although, Javi primarily suspects that it is down to you. You with your legs out, you in a bikini on the beach, robbing his shades until he buys you your own—a matching pair, something that makes Steve chuckle and Connie aww.

The lazy mornings that remind him of Houston are nice, too. The ones where neither of you are woken by an alarm or his Pop’s awful singing. The backdrop of the airy hotel room and a warm, gentle breeze blowing the sheer curtains as his thumbs dig into the back of your thighs and make you chant, is a bonus.

Because Javi can make your skin glisten, and your body sing, whenever and wherever he gets the chance.

What he can’t have at home with you is the sight of you fitting in so easily with the two people who have become a second family. The ones who have seen him go to lengths he hadn't known was possible, him and his old partner seeing things that only appear in occasional nightmares now.

Connie and Steve welcomed you in with ease and with them, you smiled so effortlessly. Blending in like you were always there—laughter bursting out of you when you’re playing with Olivia.

It's there, ever-present on the beach, as you chase Olivia around in the sand. The castles the two of you had been making long since trodden on, as the little girl squeals and squeals until she’s caught.

“You should marry her.”

Turning his head, Steve nods towards the three of you. Connie snapping photos as you roll in the sand. The yellow tinge from his aviators adds an additional glow to the world as he eyes up his former partner-turned-friend—a friend who apparently now gives unwarranted marriage advice.

Scratching his chin, he rolls his jaw. “You giving me permission, Murph?”

“C’mon, Jav. She’s nice, good to you. Clearly makes you very fuckin’ happy.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’m already planning it.”

“Yeah? Fuck. Can’t wait to tell Connie. She told me I needed to convince you.”

Javi shrugs, pushing the glasses up his nose. “It so hard to believe I’d have come to that conclusion on my own?”

“Before you met her? Yeah. Since her? No. Could tell you were smitten—”

Snorting, Javi runs his hand across his chin. “I was not fucking smitten.”

“Yeah, you fucking was. No shame in that, Jav. No shame in enjoying one good woman.”

Groaning, he turns back to the laughter. The corner of his lips twitched, wishing to slide into his cheeks as he watches you throw your head back, neck exposed, as Olivia tries to do a handstand.

“I got the ring last month.”

“Shit.”

Turning his head, he narrows his eyes, watching Steve put his hands up in defence.

“You just said—“

“Yeah, well. Forgot how determined y’can be about things. Surprised me. S’not a bad thing,” Steve says. “Just, y’know. Years ago, I knew you as the man who fucked his way through—“

Elbowing him, Javi smirks as he hears Steve splutter. A sharp look added as Steve holds his hand up.

“I’m not that person anymore, Murphy.”

His friend nods, apology falling. The evidence that he means it stitching into his expression—that he was just joking, teasing. An explanation coming, that he knows how he’s changed—all words he would have once craved hearing. But since meeting you, he’d found even the teasing didn’t upset him as much.

Clapping his hand on his shoulder, Javi looks over his shades. “I know. Alright. Just, I don’t like the reminder, that's all. Feels like… feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Y’telling me.”

Snorting, Javi slides his hand off. Moving his eyes back to the sight of Olivia grinning at the two of them. Her small hand trying to cover her mouth as she whispers something to you, something which Javi suspects involves him from the way she’s running full speed towards him.

“She’s grown up so quickly.”

He’s about to reply, but Olivia interrupts—skidding to a stop in the sand, kicking it across his feet. Swiftly, her hand—all small and delicate—wraps around and tugs on his hand.

“Uncle Javi, can you come play?”

Over the top of her, he spots you. Leaning your weight on one side, hand covering your brows to watch his expression.

And fuck, how can he say no to either of you.

hows pops?

He’s good. In fact, enough to be getting your Mom’s cookbooks down from the shelf for me.

I hope you know thats him saying he loves you

He has told me how much it means to him that I wanted these. Also keeps telling me that he’s happy they’ll be staying in the family.

bet that made you cry didn’t it

Yes! Obviously.

youre so cute baby

In my defence he caught me off guard with the comment, I was busy staring and deciphering the handwritten notes.

not gonna be able to read them now if youve cried all over them

As always, you’re hilarious. I obviously didn’t cry into the book! I cried in the bathroom.

you turn the tap on to try and hide it again

Shut up, Javi.

i should be back soon, just grabbing the parts now

Don’t rush, he’s fine. Promise. He even says his back is barely giving him any problems since I told him I’d cook from the book.

what you cooking?

Come home safe and find out.

youre such a tease

Learned it from you baby.

At one stage, Javi had been good with people.

Persuasive.

Now, he’s unsure if he even knows how to ask for a favour without giving something up or flirting.

He’s still charismatic, or so you tell him. But, he's pretty sure his tact has gone, impatience bubbling as he tries to pretend to give enough of a shit to be able to ask for the favour he wants.

For you, he decides to push through. To not walk back through the door he came through. He does stuff his hands into his jacket, the man staring at him, still wearing the same confused expression he had when Javi first stepped through the door.

Because even if he’s explained three fucking times, the man still doesn’t understand why he asked him to create the crossword he’s got clutched in his hands.

The one that would never even go to print—just a single request. A favour. All personal, just for him. Not to be published in every newspaper, but just one.

The one for him, and him alone.

It didn't matter how many ways he explained it, the man remained confused. Only reluctantly accepting, he's sure, to get him to leave.

That had been days ago. Now, you're ahead of him. Your fingers brushing over the tops of long stands, occasionally looking over your shoulder at him, making him feel like he's stepped into one of the movies you've made him watch.

Even when you look ahead, he can tell you’re grinning from behind—taking the view in. It's 'one of your favourites', something you’d told him the first time he brought you here.

It’s why he brought you here, now.

Second to you, of course, baby.

You stop some distance ahead, beginning to place down a blanket, all chequered and soft, as he comes to join you. Placing the basket in his hand down on the edge of it, before your fingers are swatting at him and undoing the ties before you grasp the bottle, food and other bits.

Not that he can eat, needing more than what the wine you’d grabbed would do.

Nerves bubbling, dancing and fluttering like the flies further down the hill. You don't notice. You're focused on the newspaper, the crossword he's not let you see for the last few hours, taunting you, making you wait.

He almost wishes he hadn't when it adds to the knot in his stomach, it tightening more when you become irritated at his coyness as he's reading out the clues—

Javi, what are you up to? You always do down, across, down. Always.

You’d have made a good detective or DEA agent.

Likely given him and Murphy a run for their money—something Steve had even said to you both when the two of you were in Miami. Sand in your toes, sea air in your hair—grin brighter than the sun.

“Give it here,” you say, not sharply, but not playfully either.

His hand wipes his lower mouth, hiding his smirk, having wanted you to do that for the past fifteen minutes.

When you take the crossword, you’re chewing.

Distracted, barely able to spot him sliding the remainder of your punnet from reach. Because Javi remembers how you feel about being asked any critical questions when you are eating.

He supposes it's the one benefit of you making him watch so many romcoms. It allowed him to do market research and ask questions without raising your suspicion, such as where wouldn't you like to be asked and if you want him down on one knee.

Mainly, I don’t want to have food in my teeth when I’m being asked. Don't want to spit any leftovers at you in my shock.

“Hey,” he whispers, stealing your attention—watching you smile, glancing at your clean teeth. “Eres preciosa.”

Your lips slide, curling up into your cheek. “You’re such a flirt, Peña.”

Kissing your cheek, he keeps his arm around you. Fingers playing with the fabric on your hip—balling it up before smoothing it out. Thumb and index brushing, calming, soothing him as your eyes glance over the page.

Occasionally, asking him things, avoiding the clues he desperately wants you to solve.

Until.

Fuck, until.

“Javi.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, pretending indifference, head tilted down, resting his chin on your shoulder—knowing from the high-pitched way you said this name that you’ve already cracked it.

Your fingers slide over the paper, smothering the white and black boxes from view. “Javi?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I think that’s my reply, isn’t it?”

Lips curling, he wraps his fingers around your chin, turning you to face him. Watching it happen in slow motion, how you smile before you grin—tears all but filling your eyes as you clearly try not to get ahead of yourself.

“You wanna make me less lonely, cariño?”

Swallowing, you drop the paper. Let it fall to the blanket, twisting your body until your knees are between his thighs as you take both sides of his cheeks.

“Sí.”

“Sí?”

Nodding, a tear falls. It's one shimmering with joy and happiness, his thumb swiping it, spreading it across your skin.

“I don’t know… I don’t know the translation,” you laugh, it spluttering, fingers stroking his skin. “But I’ll marry you. I love you. Yes, Javi.”

And he whispers it.

The translation. Pressing it, as well as I love you, to your lips as his arms snake further around your waist. Hearing you, all quiet, it almost buried in kisses, repeating the translation back.

Before he falls backwards into the grass, with you on top of him—his fiancé. His world.

you fancy coming to laredo in autumn

Any particular reason?

been told I need a best man and I only know you

an: gosh, here we are. i began writing late night texts one night after a chaotic chat with @guyfieriii because i was manic/sad/anxious all at once and it was the only logical thing i could focus on. as much as javi and reader saved one another, they saved me too. thank you to you lovely lot. not only did you welcome this in with open arms, but you cheered me on every single week (also, btw, how cool is it we didn't miss a single week omg). i owe you so much, and i cannot believe we made it here together. to the old followers, i see you. to the new ones who just discovered me, hey, welcome. to all of the friends I've harrassed over the last few months, i love you. to the new ones I've made, i also love you omg. i'm already missing this pair so much, and i cannot wait until we get to hang out with them sporadically. i'm going to go cry in a corner, but just know my heart is so full and so happy and it's all down to you all 🩷

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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thepixelelf · 8 months ago

Note

mingyu slice if life domestic fluff ! 💳💳💳 (im bribing you)

teehee

note: reader took mingyu's last name in the divorce marriage! also, there is slight mention of the pair's sexual relationship, but nothing graphic

[goodnight, mr kim] Sometimes, even when Mingyu's day has been unendingly long and unbearably busy, he still buzzes around the house like a bee at the end of the night. He doesn't know why this happens, but you have your guesses-- things in motion want to stay in motion, after all.

"Have you seen my reading glasses?" he asks you, his silhouette appearing and disappearing in the bedroom doorway as he scurries past it.

"They're on the nightstand, babe," you semi-shout to wherever he is in the house, not even looking at the side of the bed, where you know his glasses are. That's where they always are. You skim back a couple sentences in your book.

From (maybe) the kitchen, Mingyu asks, "Do you want a glass of water?"

You flip the page. "I have my water bottle. Aren't you tired?"

Suddenly, Mingyu's back in the doorway, arm extended and holding onto the jamb like it's the only thing keeping him upright. "Exhausted," he whines with a pout.

Sliding an old receipt into your book, you close it and place it on your nightstand with a smile. "I have an easy solution to that."

Mingyu's face is as cute as ever. "What?"

You pull back the covers in invitation and hold your arms out. "A little thing called a good night's rest. And you'll only get one if we start right now."

A short series of thoughts spin behind Mingyu's eyes before a smile spreads over his lips. Without warning, he breaks into a practical sprint and launches himself onto the bed.

And, onto you.

"Oof--" you grunt as you're squished into the not-so-comfy-as-two-seconds-ago mattress. His face snuggles into your neck, and you smack his shoulder. "Kim, you're suffocating me."

A breath huffs against your skin. You used to call him "Kim" before you got together all those years ago, when you and him were "strictly professional", and you only use it now when you're playfully upset with him.

Now, though, he has the privilege of getting you back.

He raises his head so he can meet your eyes and caress his thumb on your cheek. "Kim," he calls you, loving that little reminder of your togetherness. "I thought you liked a little suffo--"

"Mingyu!" You shove your hand in his face.

Chuckling, he rolls off you and lands on his side of the bed.

"Go to sleep," you say, laughing with him now. "Don't you have another busy day tomorrow?"

He shifts onto his side, elbow bent and head resting on his closed fist. "What if I just quit? Spend the day with you."

"Don't tempt me, Kim." You waggle a finger at him with a smirk. "You know how weak I am for romantic gestures."

He pulls you closer to lie beside him and moves so his head and yours share a pillow. A quick kiss gets pressed to your lips, then Mingyu pulls back with stars in his eyes. "I know. But that only makes me want to do them more."

"Kim," you try to say seriously, but a laugh slips through. You tap your finger on his lips. "Go to sleep."

He beams. "Okay, Kim. But only if you join me."

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #.100 #.200 #.300

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murdockparker · 7 months ago

Text

Promises, Promises

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Five years is a long time to be together, Peter knew that. Peter also knew that everything was expensive—but he had an idea. A little juvenile, sure, but it was an idea regardless.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), reader is a nerd, Star Wars hot take?

A/N: I haven't written for Peter in a hot second, but I'm glad to get back into the swing of things ;) i'll see myself out now

An old pop song blasted through the small shop, possibly from the eighties or nineties, it was hard to decipher, given that the boombox playing the song was probably older than she was.

“Do you need more toilet paper?” She asked across the aisle, hoping someone would answer back—a certain someone in particular.

“Nah,” she could see a mop of brown shake from over the packages, “I just bought some last week.”

“Peter, if you’re lying to me and you’re out of toilet paper again I swear on all that is holy—”

“Babe,” Peter said softly, peaking around the corner, “trust me. It’s not gonna be like last time.”

“Oh? You mean the time I was stranded on your toilet while you ran out to buy some more?” She nearly had laughed at the memory, but decided against it, having far more fun antagonizing her boyfriend. “That last time?”

He went positively crimson, from his neck to his ears. He always looked good in red, she thought, but she liked this red the best. “I am one thousand percent positive—I think I still have the receipt in my back pocket.”

“You said you bought some last week though? You haven’t washed those jeans yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t worn these that many times since last week…”

She laughed at that, pulling a bag of chips off of the shelf. Changing her mind, she pulled another as well—her favorite and his favorite. “Okay pretty boy, I believe you. I also believe we’ll be making a stop to the laundromat tonight, too.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Peter groaned, grabbing the snacks from her and holding them close. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Obviously you haven’t been in the mood for a week,” she rolled her eyes. “But sure, we can go tomorrow. Tonight, we feast like twelve year olds and binge our favorite movies.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Peter sighed, leaning up against the shelf, eyes locked on her. “A pretty girl willing to watch Star Wars, eat cheese puffs and date me?”

“Don’t forget the hot, hot sex you’ll have with the pretty girl after,” she winked, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of—”

“Restocked those too,” Peter said proudly. “Bought them with the toilet paper—could show you the receipt if you want. Bet you’re glad I held onto it, right?”

She pushed him away, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I take the offer of sex back, I’m still not over those dirty jeans.”

“I’ll shower!”

“Just buy the snacks,” she laughed, shoving him towards the cashier. “I’ll rethink my offer in the meantime.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Peter saluted, turning hot on his heels to the front. She couldn’t help but smile, watching him laugh with the bodega owner, pulling crumpled bills out of his pockets and pressing them against the counter. There was hardly anything that Peter Parker could do that she didn’t find endearing—find something to smile about.

“Local news tonight, late last night in Manhattan, our favorite web slinger was seen assisting with directing traffic during the power surge,” a reporter on the T.V. in the corner of the store announced, the screen showed Spider-Man waving traffic along, webbing a car to stop before it crashed into another oncoming vehicle. “Local authorities showed up minutes later to take over, sans-webs.”

“Huh,” she clicked, feeling her smile grow wider. “He's been spending time in Manhattan?”

“Spider-Man gets around town,” Peter shrugged, finally returning beside his girlfriend, their purchases in white plastic bags. “Can’t always stay in Queens, can he?”

“Helps if Spider-Man goes to school in Manhattan, no?” She teased quietly, elbowing Peter lovingly.

“He had time after class,” his voice matched her own, low and slow, opening the door and finally walking out onto the street. “What? Was he expected to let everyone crash their cars while the stoplights went out?”

“No,” she hummed, noticing quickly how Peter took the outside of their strides, closest to the street. He always did that. The notion warmed her heart, the feeling flooding to her toes. “Good thing he was there to help out. I’m sure the police were thankful.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay,” she conceded, head falling onto his shoulder. “Yeah, that was dumb to say.”

The rest of the walk was silent, as silent as it could get in New York City, anyhow. Comfortable, the beats of the city passing by with every step towards Peter’s apartment, hands intertwined with the other. Occasionally, he’d tug her back and stop her from stepping into the street, clearly knowing she’s not paying attention to the changing pedestrian signs. She’d squeeze his hand back in thanks.

“Have you thought more about moving in?” Peter asked, trying his best to unlock the door to his apartment, wrists heavy from the bags. “Y’know, I’m sure I can get you added to the lease if I asked.”

“Thought about it,” she hummed, gently taking the bags from him. “I just… your place is a bit small.”

“What?” He scoffed, finally pushing the door open and allowing her to enter. “You’re saying this luxurious suite is too small?”

It was comical, the timing of his statement. She could hardly turn her neck and she’d get a full view of Peter’s apartment—minus the bathroom. He could only afford a studio, and even then it was bursting at the seams, with all of his school work, his work work and his ‘unofficial’ work work, the place was a mess. He tried his best to keep it tidy, he really did. It was never filthy, just overrun by stuff.

“Babe, you’re growing out of your own space,” she laughed, double checking she locked the door behind them—it had a habit of sticking. “How’d you think I’d fit in here?”

“Preferably on my lap, or in my bed,” he smirked. “But… yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little cramped.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, or love spending time here,” (Y/N) clarified. “Hell, you’d think after all these years I’d have moved on if that was the case.”

“Has it been that long?” He asked rhetorically, opening the bags in the kitchen—if you could call it that.

“I won’t even pretend to act insulted you’ve forgotten how long we’ve been together, Parker.”

“Time flies when you’re in love,” Peter nearly sings. “Five years is a long time, feels like just yesterday I was nervously asking you out.”

“I asked you out,” she corrected. “I know, I know, five years and a hell of a lot of brain damage from crime fighting can make you misremember—”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I distinctly remember sliding a note in your locker between classes. Super cute, very sappy, I might add.”

She hopped up on his counter, with what little space he had free, anyway. “Did you? You seem to be forgetting how I pulled you aside after science class and, very confidently, I might add, asked you out for milkshakes after school.”

“That was the day I left you the note,” Peter blinked. “I just assumed you read it and were moving the process along.”

“Wait,” she barked a laugh. “I thought you left the note after I asked you out?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “Left it for you that morning, chemistry wasn’t until after lunch.”

“Huh,” she breathed, shoulders deflating. “I guess we both asked each other out on the same day.”

“Can’t believe it took us five years to figure that out,” Peter laughed, patting her thigh.

“Knowing us? I’m surprised it didn’t take us ten.”

Ten years.

Ten years with her.

The thought alone made Peter buzz with happiness.

“We’re both pretty smart people,” Peter squeaked out, fighting his own body, hoping and praying a childish blush won’t give him away. “We would’ve figured it out before then.”

“I dunno, seems unlikely,” she opened a bag of chips, impatient to start their evening. “What are we starting with tonight? Phantom Menace?”

“We started with Phantom Menace last time, chronological order,” he scrunched his nose. “I think we should go by release order this weekend, just to shake things up.”

“Okay, nerd,” she said, her voice filled with affection. Hopping off the counter, she walked towards his couch. “I’ll go get A New Hope set up, then. You plate the snacks.”

“I’ll pull out my finest china,” Peter said. He opened the cabinets to find two bowls, one for each of the bags of chips. They were mismatched and two totally different sizes, but they were free from the old neighbors, so he made do.

“Y’know, I don’t think the debate between release order versus chronological order is all that great,” (Y/N) said, mostly to herself. “I mean, there’s a thousand other things Star Wars fans can get caught up in arms in, but the order in which to watch the movies? Oh no, someone man the Reddit boards! What a crock of shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re all good movies.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by his girlfriend’s rant. “All of them? That’s a controversial opinion.”

“If I had a good time watching it, it was a good movie,” (Y/N) said simply. “Not everyone’s a critic.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I agreed the last time we had this conversation,” Peter droned, though not bored in the slightest. “Though, I will admit, I was perhaps a bit distracted, on account of your nakedness.”

“Our pillow talk gets heated,” she said, no hint of shame in her voice. “Only intellectual conversations afterwards, to ground us and all after… everything.”

“Because the sex is that good?”

“Because the sex is that good,” she agreed.

“Maybe I should plan that shower soon,” he grinned, walking over to his loving girlfriend. “Delay our marathon…”

“I didn’t walk all the way here just for sex, you know,” (Y/N) hummed, the couch shifting at Peter’s added weight. “An added bonus, for sure, but I came here to pig out and watch silly little movies set in space with my pretty boyfriend.”

“Pretty boyfriend?”

“The prettiest,” she giggled, slipping a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s not her fault he has such a kissable face—lips, cheeks, nose, wherever. “Big doe eyes, loads of freckles, smoochy cheeks—”

“Which ones?”

A pillow—one she had bought him months ago—met his face with a quick thump. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly smoochable,” Peter giggled, feeling lighter than air. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice all thick and lovey, “I know.”

Peter looked at her like she held the world in her hands, sitting beside him on his old couch—one that they had both moved up the stairs together two years ago—he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything was right in the world, everything was right in his heart.

“Are you gonna press play?”

He shook his head a bit, dumping his lovesick thoughts out of his ears. “Oh! Yeah, right. The movie.”

She pulled a blanket up on them, snuggling closer to Peter as the opening fanfare begun to play. With the text scrolling on the screen, one he hardly needed to read to know what it said given his near-memorization of the film, he felt at peace.

—

Mindlessly scrolling on his phone, it was usually how he spent his mornings, to wake himself up. He knew about the studies with blue light and stimulation of that sort of activity and wakefulness—having heard it enough from the party beside him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Apartment listings.

She was right, his studio was too small for the both of them, and it was only fitting if they were going to start a life together—living with one another—that they had ample space. Besides, they were graduating within the year anyhow, so location wasn’t terribly important. In the city would be nice, given his… other occupation, but he could get used to living outside of Manhattan again. It was quieter, usually, and only by a small percent. Cheaper, too. Thank God for his scholarships, he wouldn’t have made it very far without them.

She stirred next to him, pulling his comforter mostly off of him. He didn’t need it right now, anyway. Not when she was sleeping so soundly. He craved these weekends, when they both had a break from school and work—most of the time anyway. Peter Parker knew in his heart of hearts that he needed this every day. Perhaps forever.

Forever.

That seemed so out of reach five years ago, but now? Peter simply couldn’t see a life without her in it. With their hectic schedules, his being all-encompassing, marriage was out of the question, at least for a few years. That’s why the apartment was so important to him, a piece of forever within their grasp.

“Maybe…” Peter sighed, clicking his phone off, afraid to breathe louder than necessary.

She didn’t seem to wake, anyhow.

—

“Why do weekends here go by so fast?”

“At the laundromat?”

(Y/N) gave him a knowing glance. “Yes, Pete, weekends fly by here at the laundromat.”

“Come on,” Peter laughed, stacking his jeans—fresh out of the dryer. “It’s not so bad. They have those magazines you like.”

“Magazines from years ago—”

“There was that one from the eighties you found two months ago,” Peter pointed. “Stuck under one of the dryers?”

She smiled at the memory. “True. That was kinda fun. Seeing all the dated hairstyles and outfits was a treat. But you knew what I meant, use that big brain of yours.”

“It probably has something to do with the fact we like spending time with one another,” Peter began, patting the top of his laundry pile. “Y’know, makes the time go by faster.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I mean, logically, that’s probably the answer.”

“Logically? As opposed to illogically?”

“I could shove a sock down your throat right now, Parker,” she said seriously, holding up a balled up blue sock of his. “No one here would stop me. So cut it out with the smart ass-ness.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Such a scary girlfriend I have, threatening me with socks.”

“Maybe instead of kryptonite like Superman, your weakness is socks? I need to capitalize on that venture before anyone else does,” she said, throwing the sock into the laundry basket. “Once I crack that code, I can sell it to all the big baddies of New York.”

“And maybe with all of the money you make, we could invest in a place for us,” Peter said.

“A house on the water,” she said dreamily. “Four bedrooms, an office—maybe one for both of us? Oh! An open kitchen sounds nice too, one with stone counters and fancy wood cabinets—real wood, not particle board. One of those farmhouse sinks?”

“If you share Spider-Man’s one weakness to all the big baddies of New York, don’t you think you’d have a hard time sharing a life with him after?” Peter asked, the sounds of the machines drowning out their conversation well enough. They practically had the whole place to themselves anyway, it seemed safe enough to talk about. “You know, considering that the spider is likely dead?”

“Hm…” she tapped her chin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“We could start with an apartment, first,” Peter chuckled, throwing bits of his laundry basket into the washer. “I was looking at listings—”

“I thought you wanted me to move into your place?”

“We need a place of our own,” Peter said. “You were right, my studio isn’t going to cut it, and I want to spend more time together. Our weekends are the best time of the week, and any night I spend with you is a night where I actually get some semblance of sleep—for the most part, anyway.”

The entire laundromat lit up, Peter was certain her smile was the culprit.

“You were looking at listings?” She asked shyly, digging through the basket to help Peter load the washer.

“Most of it was out of our budget,” he admitted, “but it was a start.”

She hummed in agreement. “We’ll look together tonight, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” Peter grinned. “Oh! Could you double check my pockets? I keep forgetting change and stuff in them.”

“What about old receipts?” (Y/N) giggled, obliging to his request. She pulled a pair of khakis out of the basket, gingerly fishing her hand in the pockets. “I think I’m entitled to any change I find, Parker.”

“You can have whatever you find,” Peter agreed, his voice a little shaky.

Turning the back pockets inside out, she found nothing in the first pair, throwing it unceremoniously into the washer. With a bit more haste, she rifled through the second pair—the pair she had bought him a while back. Her fingers came across something round and cool. Change, it had to be.

“I think I just became twenty five cents richer,” she laughed, pulling the item out of the pocket, expecting a quarter. Instead, it was a smooth ring, delicate and without any stones, but still elegant. “What…?”

“It’s not a house on the water,” Peter started, looking down at the ring in her hands. “It’s also not a new apartment, but it’s a start, right?”

“Peter Parker, if you’re proposing to me in a laundromat—”

“It’s also not a proposal,” he corrected, “I’m gonna get you a better ring for that, I promise. Besides, it’s not very romantic here, is it?”

She looked up at him, his eyes staring into her own. Big and beautiful, that’s what she always thought of his eyes. Like they held the answer to every question in the universe, and in a way, they did. “It’s a promise ring?”

He shrugged, his ears growing a bit pink. “When you say it like that it sounds a little… middle school, but in a way, yeah, it is a promise ring.”

“Girls my age are expecting engagement rings,” she said, looking back down at the ring in her hand. It was her size, she didn’t even need to try it on to know it. How did he figure out her ring size?

“I promise baby,” Peter stepped towards her, grabbing her hand, closing her fingers around the ring. “I’m gonna get you that ring. I just thought it’d be nice to have something to wear on your finger in the meantime—before we do real adult things like move in together. A-and this way, you can help me pick out your real engagement ring! I have a really good idea of what you like, but I don’t ever want you to look down at your hand and thing ‘man, I wish Peter chose this instead of this’, you know?”

“Honey,” (Y/N) said, looking back up at him. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

She chuckled. “How do you expect yourself to actually propose if you can hardly give me a promise ring?”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Peter shook his head. “But it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

He meant that.

She knew he meant that.

“Am I supposed to put it on myself?”

Peter quickly scrambled to open her hand to grab the ring from her, nearly dropping the thing. “You want to wear it?”

“My boyfriend got me a pre-engagement ring,” she nearly rolled her eyes. “You expect me not to wear it?”

He pushed the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger. Peter gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly. “I promise, you’ll get a better ring from me one day. S-soon! Like, as soon as I have the money, I swear to it, honestly.”

“Pete,” she placed her now-ring-clad hand on his face.

“Right,” his shoulders deflated, “rambling. Sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. “It’s all very sweet and very you, Peter Parker. I love it.”

A dryer alarm buzzed, startling the both of them. “You do?”

“Well, I love you, and that’s enough,” (Y/N) smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of wearing a ring you got me—and the idea of helping you pick out the real thing? That basically sold the idea for me.”

“You’d say yes if I asked?”

“I agreed to your pre-engagement engagement ring, did I not? You’re not losing me that easily, Peter. I’m gonna hold out for the real thing.”

“We’ll go ring shopping as soon as we find a place,” Peter said seriously. “Move in, graduate, all that.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“A lot,” Peter agreed. “Sometimes it helps to fill the time when I’m swinging around town. I usually am thinking about you, anyway, anytime of day.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Because I’m usually thinking about you, too.”

“Pretty crazy,” he smiled, pulling her into him. With careful hands, he lifted her face towards his, a silent invitation. One she was more than happy to respond to.

Kissing Peter Parker was one of life’s greatest pleasures, she was sure of it. Granted, she had really never kissed anyone else, high school sweethearts and all of that, but she knew it really couldn’t get better than this. The slightly chapped kisses, the way he would lick his lips when they parted, how he would nip at her bottom lip in protest if she thought about stopping the kiss too soon—it was all perfect. Of course, kissing in a slightly shady laundromat was a bit of a turn off.

“Pete,” she said, pulling back.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He nearly begged, holding her against him a bit tighter.

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she said seriously. “I mean, not with this flashy new ring and all—seems a bit juvenile with that title, no?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Partners,” she shrugged, feeling him pepper kisses against her cheek, her nose. “It seems more grown up, anyway. Now, when I go into class or work and they comment on my ring I can say, ‘oh, my partner got me that’.”

“Babe, I’m your partner in anything,” he laughed, pressing his forehead against her own. “If you’d like to change our terms of endearment—I’m all aboard.”

“It’d only be for a short while, anyway,” (Y/N) said, smirking against his lips, capturing them in another kiss. “Then I can call you my fiancé…”

“Romantic.”

“Then my husband,” she teased.

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” Peter nodded. “(Y/N) Parker has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What about Peter (Y/L/N)?” (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow. “You could be progressive.”

“We could hyphenate?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Parker is a fine last name. A little basic, but perfectly suitable.”

“We’re kinda basic people, are we not?” Peter chuckled.

“Let me just go and ask your friend Spider-Man that,” she said seriously. “I’m sure he’d disagree?”

“Oh, speaking of!” Peter stepped away from her. “I need to wash… well, y’know—”

“It’s already soaking in the sink back at your place,” she said simply. “Trying to get all the dried blood off of it and all.”

Peter’s eyes nearly melted in affection. “What would I ever do without you?”

She smiled back in kind, a lovesick sort of way. “Not your laundry, that’s for sure. Come on, Parker, we’ve gotta finish this load. Sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go home.”

A rogue ray of sunlight hit her new ring just right, making the band shine brightly against her hand as she continued to throw his dirty clothing into the washing machine. “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #spider-man #marvel x reader #spider-man imagines #it works for any peter I promise!!#mcu peter parker #tasm peter parker

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